Mistress of Mellyn Page 5

  Connan TreMellyn looked in some amusement from her to me. It occurred to me that he probably found us equally unattractive. I was sure that neither of us was the least like the woman he would admire.

  “Let us say it is to be continued,” he said lightly. “I fancy, Miss Leigh, that you and I will have a great deal more to discuss, regarding my daugher.”

  I bowed my head and left them together.

  In the schoolroom tea was laid, ready for me. I felt too excited to eat, and when Alvean did not appear I guessed she was with her father.

  At five o’clock she still had not put in an appearance, so I summoned Daisy and sent her to find the child and to remind her that from five to six we had work to do.

  I waited. I was not surprised because I had expected Alvean to rebel. Her father had arrived and she preferred to be with him rather than come to me for the hour of our reading.

  I wondered what would happen when the child refused to come to the schoolroom. Could I go down to the punch room or the drawing room or wherever they were and demand that she return with me? Celestine was with them and she would take her stand on Alvean’s side against me.

  I heard footsteps on the stairs. The door of Alvean’s room which led into the schoolroom was opened, and there stood Connan TreMellyn holding Alvean by the arm.

  Alvean’s expression astonished me. She looked so unhappy that I found myself feeling sorry for her. Her father was smiling and I thought he looked like a satyr, as though the situation which caused pain to Alvean and embarrassment to me amused him—and perhaps for these reasons. In the background was Celestine.

  “Here she is,” announced Connan TreMellyn. “Duty is duty, my daughter,” he said to Alvean. “And when your governess summons you to your lessons, you must obey.”

  Alvean muttered and I could see that she was hard put to restrain her sobs: “But it is your first day, Papa.”

  “But Miss Leigh says there are lessons to be done, and she is in command.”

  “Thank you, Mr. TreMellyn,” I said. “Come and sit down, Alvean.”

  Alvean’s expression changed as she looked at me. All the wistfulness was replaced by anger and a fierce hatred.

  “Connan,” Celestine said quietly, “it is your first day back, you know, and Alvean so looked forward to your coming.”

  He smiled but I thought how grim his mouth was.

  “Discipline,” he murmured. “That, Celeste, is of the utmost importance. Come, we will leave Alvean with her governess.”

  He inclined his head in my direction, while Alvean threw a pleading glance at him which he quite obviously ignored.

  The door shut leaving me alone with my pupil.

  That incident had taught me a great deal. Alvean adored her father and he was indifferent to her. My anger against him increased as my pity for the child grew. Small wonder that she was a difficult child. What could one expect when she was such an unhappy one? I saw her … ignored by the father whom she loved, spoiled by Celestine Nansellock. Between them they were doing their best to ruin the girl.

  I would have liked Connan TreMellyn better, I told myself, if he had decided to forget discipline on his first day back, and devote a little time to his daughter’s company.

  Alvean was rebellious all that evening, but I insisted on her going to bed at her usual time. She told me she hated me, though there was no need for her to have mentioned a fact which was apparent.

  I felt so disturbed when she was in her bed that I slipped out of the house and went into the woods, where I sat on a fallen tree trunk, brooding.

  It had been a hot day and there was a deep stillness in the woods.

  I wondered whether I was going to keep this job. It was not easy to say at this stage, and I was not sure whether I wanted to go or stay.

  There were so many things to keep me. There was, for one thing, my interest in Gillyflower; there was my desire to wipe the rebellion from Alvean’s heart. But I felt less eagerness for these tasks now that I had seen the master.

  I was a little afraid of the man although I could not say why. I was certain that he would leave me alone, but there was something magnetic about him, some quality which made it difficult for me to put him out of my mind. I thought more of dead Alice than I had before, because I could not stop myself wondering what sort of person she could have been.

  I amused him in some way. Perhaps because I was so unattractive in his eyes; perhaps because he knew that I belonged to that army of women who are obliged to earn their living and so are dependent on the whim of people like himself. Was there a streak of sadism in his nature? I believed so. Perhaps poor Alice had found it intolerable. Perhaps she, like poor Gillyflower’s mother, had walked into the sea.

  As I sat there I heard the sound of footsteps coming through the wood and I hesitated, wondering whether to wait there or go back to the house.

  A man was coming toward me, and there was something familiar about him which made my heart beat faster.

  He started when he saw me; then he began to smile and I recognized him as the man I had met on the train.

  “So we meet,” he said. “I knew our reunion would not be long delayed. Why, you look as though you have seen a ghost. Has your stay at Mount Mellyn made you look for ghosts? I’ve heard some say that there is a ghostly atmosphere about the place.”

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “My name is Peter Nansellock. I have to confess to a little deception.”

  “You’re Miss Celestine’s brother?”

  He nodded. “I knew who you were when we met in the train. I deliberately bearded you in your carriage. I saw you sitting there, looking the part, and I guessed. Your name on the labels of your baggage confirmed my guess, for I knew that they were expecting Miss Martha Leigh at Mount Mellyn.”

  “I am comforted to learn that my looks conform with the part I have been called upon to play in life.”

  “You really are a most untruthful young lady. I remember I had reason to reprimand you for the same sort of thing at our first meeting. You are in fact quite discomfited to learn that you were taken for a governess.”

  I felt myself grow pink with indignation. “Because I am a governess, that is no reason why I should be forced to accept insults from strangers.”

  I rose from the tree trunk, but he laid a hand on my arm and said pleadingly: “Please let us talk awhile. There is much I have to say to you. There are things you should know.”

  My curiosity overcame my dignity and I sat down.

  “That’s better, Miss Leigh. You see I remember your name.”

  “Most courteous of you! And how extraordinary that you should first notice a mere governess’s name and then keep it in your memory.”

  “You are like a hedgehog,” he retorted. “One only has to mention the word ‘governess’ and up come your spines. You will have to learn resignation. Aren’t we taught that we must be content in that station of life to which we have been called?”

  “Since I resemble a hedgehog, at least I am not spineless.”

  He laughed and then was immediately sober. “I do not possess second sight, Miss Leigh,” he said quietly. “I know nothing of palmistry. I deceived you, Miss Leigh.”

  “Do you think I was deceived for a moment?”

  “For many moments. Until this one, in fact, you have thought of me with wonder.”

  “Indeed, I have not thought of you at all.”

  “More untruths! I wonder if a young lady with such little regard for veracity is worthy to teach our little Alvean.”

  “Since you are a friend of the family your best policy would be to warn them at once.”

  “But if Connan dismissed his daughter’s governess, how sad that would be! I should wander through these woods without hope of meeting her.”

  “I see you are a frivolous person.”

  “It’s true.” He looked grave. “My brother was frivolous. My sister is the only commendable member of the family.”

  “I have alre
ady met her.”

  “Naturally. She is a constant visitor to Mount Mellyn. She dotes on Alvean.”

  “Well, she is a very near neighbor.”

  “And we, Miss Leigh, shall in future be very near neighbors. How does that strike you?”

  “Without any great force.”

  “Miss Leigh, you are cruel as well as untruthful. I hoped you would be grateful for my interest. I was going to say, if ever things should become intolerable at Mount Mellyn you need only walk over to Mount Widden. There you would find me most willing to help. I feel sure that among my wide circle of acquaintances I could find someone who is in urgent need of a governess.”

  “Why should I find life intolerable at Mount Mellyn?”

  “It’s a tomb of a place, Connan is overbearing, Alvean is a menace to anyone’s peace, and the atmosphere since Alice’s death is not congenial.”

  I turned to him abruptly and said: “You told me to beware of Alice. What did you mean by that?”

  “So you did remember?”

  “It seemed such a strange thing to say.”

  “Alice is dead,” he said, “but somehow she remains. That’s what I always feel at Mount Mellyn. Nothing was the same after the day she … went.”

  “How did she die?”

  “You have not heard the story yet?”

  “No.”

  “I should have thought Mrs. Polgrey or one of those girls would have told you. But they haven’t, eh? They’re probably somewhat in awe of the governess.”

  “I should like to hear the story.”

  “It’s a very simple one. The sort of thing which must happen in many a home. A wife finds life with her husband intolerable. She walks out … with another man. It’s ordinary enough, you see. Only Alice’s story had a different ending.”

  He looked at the tips of his boots as he had when we were traveling in the train to Liskeard together. “The man in the case was my brother,” he went on.

  “Geoffry Nansellock!” I cried.

  “So you have heard of him!”

  I thought of Gillyflower, whose birth had so distressed her mother that she had walked into the sea.

  “Yes,” I said, “I’ve heard of Geoffry Nansellock. He was evidently a philanderer.”

  “It sounds a harsh word to apply to poor old Geoff. He had charm … all the charm of the family, some say.” He smiled at me. “Others may think he did not get it all. He was not a bad sort. I was fond of old Geoff. His great weakness was women. He loved women; he found them irresistible. And women love men who love them. How can they help it? I mean, it is such a compliment, is it not? One by one they fell victim to his charm.”

  “He did not hesitate to include other men’s wives among his victims.”

  “Spoken like a true governess! Alas, my dear Miss Leigh, it appeared he did not … since Alice was among them. It is true that all was not well at Mount Mellyn. Do you think Connan would be an easy man to live with?”

  “It is surely not becoming for a governess to discuss her employer in such a manner.”

  “What a contrary young lady you are, Miss Leigh. You make the most of your situation. You use the governess when you wish to, and then expect others to ignore her when you do not wish her to be recognized. I believe that anyone who is obliged to live in a house should know something of its secrets.”

  “What secrets?”

  He bent a little closer to me. “Alice was afraid of Connan. Before she married him she had known my brother. She and Geoffry were on the train … running away together.”

  “I see.” I drew myself away from him because I felt it was undignified to be talking of past scandals in this way, particularly as these scandals had nothing whatever to do with me.

  “They identified Geoffry although he was badly smashed up. There was a woman close to him. She was so badly burned that it was impossible to recognize her as Alice. But a locket she was wearing was recognized as one she was known to possess. That was how she was identified … and of course there was the fact that Alice had disappeared.”

  “How dreadful to die in such a way!”

  “The prim governess is shocked because poor Alice died in the act of forming a guilty partnership with my charming but erring brother.”

  “Was she so unhappy at Mount Mellyn?”

  “You have met Connan. Remember, he knew that she had once been in love with Geoffry, and Geoffry was still in the offing. I can imagine life was hell for Alice.”

  “Well, it was very tragic,” I said briskly. “But it is over. Why did you say, ‘Beware of Alice,’ as though she were still there?”

  “Are you fey, Miss Leigh? No, of course you are not. You are a governess with more than your fair share of common sense. You would not be influenced by fantastic tales.”

  “What fantastic tales?”

  He grinned at me, coming even closer, and I realized that in a very short time it would be dark. I was anxious to get back to the house, and my expression became a little impatient.

  “They recognized her locket, not her. There are some who think that it was not Alice who was killed on the train with Geoffry.”

  “Then if it was not, where is she?”

  “That is what some people ask themselves. That is why there are long shadows at Mount Mellyn.”

  I stood up. “I must get back. It will soon be dark.”

  He was standing beside me—a little taller than I—and our eyes met.

  “I thought you should know these things,” he said almost gently. “It seems only fair that you should know.”

  I began walking back in the direction from which I had come.

  “My duties are with the child,” I answered somewhat brusquely. “I am not here for any other purpose.”

  “But how can even a governess, overburdened with common sense though she may be, know to what purposes fate will put her?”

  “I think I know what is expected of me.” I was alarmed because he walked beside me; I wanted to escape from him that I might be alone with my thoughts. I felt this man impaired my precious dignity to which I was clinging with that determination only possible to those who are in constant fear of losing what little they possess. He had mocked me in the train. I felt he was waiting for an opportunity to do so again.

  “I am sure you do.”

  “There is no need for you to escort me back to the house.”

  “I am forced to contradict you. There is every reason.”

  “Do you think I am incapable of looking after myself?”

  “I think none more capable of doing that than yourself. But as it happens I was on my way to call, and this is the most direct way to the house.”

  I was silent until we came to Mount Mellyn.

  Connan TreMellyn was coming from the stables.

  “Hello there, Con!” cried Peter Nansellock.

  Connan TreMellyn looked at us in mild surprise, which I supposed was due to the fact that we were together.

  I hurried round to the back of the house.

  It was not easy to sleep that night. The events of the day crowded into my mind and I saw pictures of myself and Connan TreMellyn, pictures of Alvean, of Celestine, and of myself in the woods with Peter Nansellock.

  The wind was in a certain direction that night, and I could hear the waves thundering into Mellyn Cove.

  In my present mood it certainly seemed that there were whispering voices down there, and that the words they said to each other were: “Alice! Alice! Where is Alice? Alice, where are you?”

  THREE

  In the morning the fancies of the previous night seemed foolish. I asked myself why so many people—including myself—wanted to make a mystery of what had happened in this house. It was an ordinary enough story.

  I know what it is, I told myself. When people consider an ancient house like this, they make themselves believe it could tell some fantastic stories if it could only speak. They think of the generations who have lived and suffered within these walls, and they grow f
anciful. So that when the mistress of the house is tragically killed they imagine her ghost still walks and that, although she is dead, she is still here. Well, I am a sensible woman, I hope. Alice was killed on a train, and that was the end of Alice.

  I laughed at my folly in allowing myself to be caught up in such notions. Had not Daisy or Kitty explained that the whispering voices, which I thought I heard in the night, were merely the sound of waves thundering in the cove below?

  From now on I was entertaining no more such fantastic thoughts.

  My room was filled with sunshine and I felt different from the way I had felt on any other morning. I was exhilarated. I knew why. It was due to that man, Connan TreMellyn. Not that I liked him—quite the reverse; but it was as though he had issued a challenge. I was going to make a success of this job. I was going to make of Alvean not only a model pupil but a charming, unaffected uninhibited little girl.

  I felt so pleased that I began to hum softly under my breath.

  “Come into the garden, Maud” … That was a song Father used to like to play while Phillida sang, for in addition to her other qualities Phillida possessed a charming voice. Then I passed to “Sweet and Low,” and for a moment I forgot the house I was in and saw Father at the piano, his glasses slipping down his nose, his slippered feet making the most of the pedals.

  I was almost astonished to find that I had unconsciously slipped into the song I had heard Gilly singing in the woods. “Alice, where art thou …”

  Oh no, not that, I said sharply to myself.

  I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and I went to the window to look out. No one was visible. The lawns looked fresh and lovely with the early morning dew on them. What a beautiful sight, I thought; the palm trees gave the scene a tropical look and it was one of those mornings when there was every promise of a beautiful day.

  “One of the last we can expect this summer, I daresay,” I said aloud; and I threw open my window and leaned out, my thick coppery plaits, the ends tied with pieces of blue ribbon for bedtime, swinging out with me.

  I went back to “Sweet and Low” and was humming this when Connan TreMellyn emerged from the stables. He saw me before I was able to draw back, and I felt myself grow scarlet with embarrassment to be seen with my hair down and in my nightgown thus.