Gossamer Cord

Rescue on the Rocks

TWO DAYS LATER, MY mother and I traveled back home. My mother sat back in the carriage with a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Everything seems to be going well,” she said. “I can’t wait till November. If only we could get Nanny Crabtree there I think everything could be just perfect. Dermot is such a nice young man. I liked him more and more.” She frowned. “Gordon is somewhat…”

I waited while she paused, searching for the word she needed to describe him.

“Overpowering,” she said at length. “Although he says very little, he does behave as though he is the son of the house. Well, I suppose we shall be going down again soon. I think Dorabella would have liked you to stay.”

“Well, I daresay I shall be making the journey back there very soon,” I said.

When I was back at Caddington I saw things differently. My mother was right. Everything was going well.

I thought often of Jowan Jermyn. It would be amusing to see him again. I rather liked the fact that we had to meet…well, not exactly secretly…but to take certain precautions not to be seen too frequently at the same place.

I wondered if Mrs. Brodie had reported that we had called in twice at Smithy’s. It was very probable. It had been tactful of him to suggest the meeting at the Horned Stag.

My father was delighted to see us. He said that he wished Dorabella could come home for a while.

My mother said: “She is at her own home now, and you could hardly expect her to leave her husband. And her husband has an estate to look after.”

“Gordon does that very well,” replied my father. “I don’t think Dermot would be missed all that much.”

It was as near as he could get to a criticism and very unusual with him. It showed how much he wanted to see his daughter.

I missed her, too, but I was sure it would not be long before I went to Cornwall again. I wanted to be with her. Moreover, it was exciting, and a little mysterious in a way, which appealed to my penchant for intrigue. I could not rid myself of the idea that there was something strange about the household, and I felt it would be very interesting to discover what it was. And then, of course, there would be meetings with Jowan Jermyn.

My mother was overjoyed to hear from Nanny Crabtree. She would be free at the beginning of September and would take a short holiday to stay with her cousin in Northamptonshire. She would be ready to go to Cornwall at the beginning of October which would give her a few weeks to settle in before the baby arrived.

We heard from Edward that he and Gretchen would like to come and see us and perhaps stay a couple of weeks. They had a friend who would like to see Cornwall. Should we mind very much if they brought him with them?

“I am sure you will like Richard,” he said. “He is a lawyer and has been a great help to me.”

My mother was always delighted to see Edward and wrote back enthusiastically of her pleasure at the proposed visit.

Edward was now attached to a law firm in London. He and Gretchen were living in the Greenham family house in Westminster at the time but were looking for a house of their own. Edward wrote to my mother regularly so that she could keep in touch with everything he was doing. Although she was only about fifteen years older than he was, he looked upon her as a mother, which was not really surprising, as she was the one who had brought him out of Belgium when the Germans had been invading that country.

They arrived in the early afternoon. Gretchen looked very happy; so did Edward. We were introduced to the friend, Richard Dorrington, a tall, pleasant-looking young man who thanked my mother profusely for asking him.

I could see immediately that she liked him. She told him that Edward’s friends were always welcome.

It was an interesting visit. My father quite obviously liked Richard Dorrington, too—but then he liked most people—yet I did sense a rather special feeling for this young man.

Edward said he was going to show Richard some of the local sights, for Richard, who had lived most of his life in London, did not know this part of the country at all.

Over the first meal Edward talked about the places he had in mind.

“You’d like to see some of these spots again, wouldn’t you, Violetta?” said my mother.

I agreed that I would.

“Robert will be very cross when he hears you’ve been here,” said my mother to Richard. “Robert is my young son. He’s always annoyed because he is at school when we have visitors here. Well, the four of you must go together. You must take Richard to that old Chidam place for lunch. It is really rather fun. Ye Olde Reste House, pretending to date back to the days of Henry VIII when it was actually built about ten years ago. Ye olde Tudor beams—put in all of ten years ago! I expect they have a ghost. Anne Boleyn will appear one day.”

“I don’t think she ever went near the place,” said Edward.

“That’s of no account. They’ll find a way of fitting her in with ye olde Tudor beams. It is really quite amusing with the waitresses in Tudor costumes, complete with lipstick and permanently waved hair.”

“It sounds amusing,” said Richard.

“It is…just for once. You will take him, Edward?”

Then we talked about Edward’s househunting in London.

“I’d like to be near Chambers,” said Edward.

“Richard has a fine place in Kensington,” added Gretchen.

“I think,” said Edward smiling at her, “we shall have to go for something less grand.”

“Our place has been in the family for some years,” said Richard. “My grandfather bought it. Then it went to my father and now to me.”

“In a quiet square,” added Gretchen.

“One of those big family houses, built round a garden square for exclusive use of the residents who surround it,” explained Edward.

“There are some lovely houses in those squares,” said my mother.

“You need a family to fill them,” put in Gretchen.

“I have my widowed mother and sister Mary Grace living with me,” said Richard. “It has always been home to us.”

“Then you have old Mrs. what’s-her-name to keep everything in order,” said Edward.

“That’s the housekeeper,” Richard explained to us. “Yes, she is one of the old faithful kind. She makes everything run smoothly.”

“I know the type,” said my mother.

My father liked to hear what people thought of the political situation. He always felt that people from London would know more of what was going on than we did in the country.

“What do you think of the new Prime Minister?” asked Richard Dorrington.

“It’s early days yet. He’s only been in office just over a month. He did some good work in the past, and it was time Baldwin went, I suppose. Though he did very well over the Abdication. He probably needed a rest after that, hence his resignation. I would say that Neville Chamberlain has not had long enough to be judged.”

“I don’t like the situation on the Continent.”

Edward said: “It is certainly thought-provoking.”

“Mussolini is being closely watched,” went on Richard. “Europe is very uneasy about him, but they all stood by when he invaded Abyssinia. They were horrified, shocked, and disapproving, but they did just nothing. If the countries had stood together then, if they had imposed sanctions, he would have had to withdraw in a few weeks. But they stood by, saying how disgraceful it was, while he snapped his fingers at them and went on. I was, in Rome this time last year…no, a little earlier. It was May. It was in the Piazza Venezia; the crowd was great. I heard there were about 400,000 gathered there, and I could well believe that. Mussolini came out and announced to us all that after fourteen years of fascist rule Italy had an empire.”

“What sort of a man is he?” asked my father.

“Powerful, charismatic in the extreme, with a hypnotic quality. One sensed he had them all in his power. I think these forceful dictators must arouse a certain uneasiness in the minds of many people. They are too powerful, and their people do not seem to question their actions. They can’t, I suppose. They dare not. He is modeling himself on his ally, Adolf Hitler.”

I saw the change in Gretchen. She lowered her eyes, and I was taken back to those terrible moments in the inn parlor at the schloss.

“What about the Rome-Berlin Axis?” asked my father.

Richard Dorrington smiled grimly. “It means Germany and Italy are allies. I think Mussolini longs to be a Hitler.”

Edward glanced at Gretchen and said: “Well, we shall have to wait and see. I want to tell you about the places I plan for us to visit.”

The next day we went off in the car—the four of us together. It was most enjoyable. A few days later there was a picnic in the nearby woods. My mother and father came with us and it was a very jolly party. My mother was overjoyed by Edward’s visit. I would often see her looking at him reminiscently, and I knew she was thinking of the helpless little baby whose life she had saved. Of course, my grandmother had undertaken the main responsibility of bringing him up, but he would always remember that but for my mother, he would not be one of us now.

There was something else. I detected a certain speculation in her eyes. I knew her well and could read her thoughts. She liked Richard; she was constantly talking of him to Edward. She wanted to know all about him. I thought, she is looking out for a suitable husband for her daughter. Dorabella is safely settled, now she thinks it is my turn.

I rather wished the thought had not struck me. It had an effect on my feelings for Richard, and I fancied I was a little more aloof than I might have been. Why did mothers always want to get their daughters married? They wanted to see them settled, and because they remembered them as babies, they thought they needed someone to look after them, I supposed.

I wanted to assure her that I was quite capable of looking after myself. And she must not, as so many mothers do, set out to find a husband for me.

The days were passing, and very pleasant they were. My father enjoyed discussing the state of affairs in Europe and was speculating with Edward and Richard whether Chamberlain would do well, and whether it was a pity that Baldwin had seen fit to resign at this time.

The visit was coming to an end. We were into July and that evening at dinner Richard said, looking at my mother, for he knew she would be the one to make the decision: “You must come to London. There is so much to do there. Everything won’t be so crowded at this time. Why not?”

“You must come as soon as we get our house,” began Edward, when Richard interposed:

“You must stay with us. Mary Grace loves having visitors. So does my mother. It would cheer her up a good deal.”

“Richard’s place is not very far from Kensington Gardens, and then there is the High Street with all the shops,” Edward added.

“Well, we should very much like to,” said my mother.

She came to my room that night when the household had retired.

“What do you think about this visit to London?” she asked.

“Well, perhaps sometime.”

“It sounds fun. I’d like to see that house and meet his people. Mary Grace sounds very charming.”

“Oh, yes…”

“I like Richard, don’t you?”

“Yes. Edward and he seem good friends, and I think he and Gretchen are happy.”

“I think so, too. It is a pity her people are so far away. I think we ought to pay that visit and we shouldn’t leave it too long, either.”

I smiled at her. I could read her thoughts so easily.

I did have a chance of a quiet talk with Gretchen. Although she was happy, and obviously cared deeply for Edward, I often saw anxiety in her eyes.

It was the day before they were due to leave when I found myself alone with her.

I said: “Gretchen, is everything all right?”

“You mean…my family…?”

“Yes.”

She did not speak for a while. Then she said: “They have not been molested. But I believe it is no better…perhaps getting worse.”

“You mean what we saw happen…is still going on?”

“Yes,” she said. “And more often. I wish…”

“What a pity they can’t get out.”

“It is difficult. I talk about it with Edward. I wish they could come to England. But it is not easy.”

“I can see that. They would have to leave the schloss, their home, everything.”

She said: “Some are getting out. Friends of ours have gone. They are in America. And some in Canada, South Africa, and other places.”

“If you and Edward get a house…perhaps…”

She shook her head. “My father would not go. Nor would Kurt. If they were rich, perhaps, as some have done.”

“It may all blow over…”

She lifted her shoulders. “There is such hatred for our race. My family is not important even to attract much notice, fortunately. It is the rich they attack first. But in time…”

I laid my hand on hers. “I am glad you are here.”

“I am the fortunate one. My family rejoice in my good fortune. But I suffer for them.”

“Dear Gretchen, I hope it all comes right soon.”

“One can hope,” she said, but I saw the hopelessness in her face.

My mother talked again of the proposed visit to London.

“It will be fun to go househunting for Edward,” she said.

The visitors left with the assurance that we should all meet again soon.

The next day I had a letter from Dorabella.

Dear Vee,

You said you were coming down. It will be August soon and ages since you’ve been. I am really huge now and looking forward to Nanny Crabtree’s arrival. There’ll be the usual talk. She’ll go on about what a “caution” I always was…the naughty one…not like good Miss Violetta. Such a good girl she was. I can’t get about much. I’m just stuck here. I have to lie down and rest. It’s boring and not very comfortable. I mustn’t do this and I mustn’t do that.

This is an S.O.S. Come please soon…

While I was reading the letter my mother came into the room. “About this trip to London,” she began. I waved the letter in my hand. “From Dorabella?” she asked. “Yes,” I replied. “I must go to Dorabella first.”

It was exciting to be traveling down to Cornwall. This time I was alone, as my mother could not leave just then.

Dorabella would be satisfied if one of us went, we had decided.

Dermot came to the station to meet me. He greeted me warmly.

“Dorabella is so delighted that you are coming,” he said. “And so are we all.”

“I am glad to be here. How is she?”

“The doctor says she is fine. She gets a little restless. She was always one for dashing around.”

“I know she doesn’t like this enforced inactivity.”

“Indeed. She does not like it at all.”

“It will be good to see her again.”

“It has been a long time, she says.”

“My mother has so many commitments at home, and there is my father who can’t always get away from the estate.”

“I know. However, here you are and it is good to see you.”

I was thinking: And I shall be able to see Jowan Jermyn. It will be time for the plant to have taken root. I can make another attempt to talk to Mrs. Pardell. I was drawn into an atmosphere of intrigue and mystery—which might be of my own creating, it was true—but interesting nevertheless.

Dorabella was waiting for me. She hugged me fiercely.

“You might have come before,” she said, scowling and then laughing. “But it’s wonderful that you are here now. I know it’s a long way to come…and there is that nice Richard Somebody our mother mentioned in her letter. You might have told me about him.”

“So Mummy has been writing to you about him?”

“Of course. And our father thinks highly of him. You know…that sort of thing. Well, she wouldn’t want my other half to be left on the shelf when I have been so perfectly disposed of.”

“What nonsense! I hardly know the man.”

“And you liked him?”

“Moderately.”

“I know you and your understatements.”

“More to be relied on than your wild enthusiasms.”

“Well, here I am, a married woman about to replenish the earth. Oh, Vee, thank goodness you’ve come. It’s lovely to have you here. Now I want a detailed account of everything you’ve been doing.”

“First,” I replied. “I have to have one from you. Mummy wants to hear all about you—a truthful account.”

“My life is full of action. You’ll never tell it all in one letter. I lie in bed until they bring my breakfast. I rise, bathe, and amble round the gardens. Lunch and rest. Doctor’s orders. I may go down, or have it in my room. Then I sit in the garden perhaps, discuss layettes and nursery furniture with Matilda, see the midwife if it is her day to call: Then dinner and bed. You see, it is a riotous existence.”

“Well, it won’t be very long now before the great day arrives.”

“It approaches inexorably and fills me with both longing and dread.”

“It will soon be over and then we shall have the marvelous child.”

“You mean I shall.”

“We’ve always shared.”

“You’ll be a doting aunt.”

“I daresay.”

“You must see that man again…the enemy in the feud.”

“Perhaps I shall.”

“What do you mean by perhaps you will? I shall insist. You have come down here to amuse me, remember.”

“I promise I will.”

“Amuse me and see him again?”

“I am determined to do that.”

“What? Amuse me? Or see him?”

“Both,” I replied.

“Oh, Vee, how wonderful that you have come.”

I was with her all that day.

During the next morning the doctor came to see her and said she was a little tired and must rest more.

She scowled but obeyed the rules, and that gave me an opportunity to be alone.

I wondered whether the news of my arrival had reached Jowan Jermyn, and I turned over in my mind whether I should take Starlight to the field and hope to see him there or walk to Cliff Cottage.

Dorabella’s talk about Richard Dorrington and Jowan Jermyn had made me feel a little uncomfortable about both men. It was rather disconcerting to contemplate that because one was growing up and unattached, people always wanted to link one with some prospective husband. It made plain friendship difficult.

I decided, however, that I would pay a call on Cliff Cottage. I remembered then that the last time I had been there I had met Gordon Lewyth on the dangerous part of the cliff path on the way back.

I had seen him briefly when I arrived, and I had thought his attitude had seemed a little warmer toward me than previously. During that walk down to the town he had unbent considerably. I was rather glad that we had made some advance—albeit small—in our relationship.

I had been with Dorabella all the morning and after lunch she had her rest. I set out for Cliff Cottage.

I had not told her where I was going. In fact, I was still uncertain as to her reaction to Dermot’s first marriage. I think it was one of those subjects which were vaguely unpleasant, to be thrust aside and not spoken of.

It was a warm day, but there was little sunshine. The sea was a dullish gray color, quiet but with a sullen look about it.

The gulls were noisy. When I came down the east cliff into Poldown and walked along the harbor I saw the fishermen there mending their nets. Some people were buying fish that had come in that morning and the gulls were screeching wildly, looking for tidbits which, for some reason, could not be sold and were flung back into the river, where they were immediately seized on by the swooping birds.

One or two people recognized me.

“Oh, ’ee be back then?”

“Not much sun about today.”

“Nice to see ’ee, Miss. Lady up house well, I hope?”

It was rather pleasant to be remembered.

I thought of what Jowan had said about the news service. I expected they were all well informed.

I crossed the ancient thirteenth-century bridge to the west side and started to climb up the cliff. It was steep and I paused every now and then, not so much to get my breath as to admire the weird formation of the black rocks with the waves gently swirling around them.

I came to Cliff Cottage. It looked as neat as ever. Boldly I opened the wooden gate and went up the short path. There was a porch on which were stone containers in which flowers grew. The front door had frosted glass panels.

I rang the bell and waited.

There was a short pause. I could see her through the glass peering at me. I wondered if she would recognize me. After a few seconds, when I feared I might not be let in, the door opened and Mrs. Pardell stood facing me.

“Oh,” she said. “It’s you. So you’re back, then.”

“Yes. How are you?”

“I’m all right, thanks.”

“And…er…the…”

Her face was illuminated by a smile. “It took,” she said. “It took a treat.”

“Oh, I am so relieved.”

She looked at me for a moment and I thought her Northern shrewdness would reject my enthusiasm for the gushing insincerity it was. But, like most people with obsessions, she could not believe that they were anything but marvelous in the eyes of all.

“You like to see it?” she asked.

“Oh, I should love to.”

“Come on, then.”

Proudly she took me to it. I was shown the spot. It was like a shrine. The plant looked bigger than when I had brought it. I thought to myself, Thank you, little plant. It is clever of you. Through you I have gone up in the estimation of this uncommunicative lady.

“It’s done wonders,” I said.

“I can tell you I’ve taken a bit of trouble. I saw where it was up at that place, and I reckoned I knew the spot to put it. Gets the sun—but not too much—and there’s shelter…”

“Oh, yes. This sturdy plant here…protects it in a way.”

“That’s so.”

“I am so glad.”

She nodded. “It was thoughtful of you to bring it. I was that pleased…”

“I could see how much you wanted it. And why shouldn’t you share it? I knew you would appreciate it.”

“Well, thank you.”

Was that to be all? I wondered. The end of the mission?

I felt deflated.

I said desperately: “If there is anything else you liked, I daresay I could get it for you.”

It was the right note. I could see the cupidity in her eyes. I had offered the irresistible.

“That’s gradely, that is. There might be one or two.”

“Well, you mustn’t hesitate to ask.”

“I take that as a real kind thought.”

I was glowing with confidence.

“Your garden is a picture,” I said. “This is the best time of the year, I suppose.”

“Spring is better,” she said. “Least I think so.”

“Yes, spring. We’re getting on in the year now.” I inhaled the air. “It’s gloomy today. It makes one thirsty.”

It was a hint and she hesitated for a moment. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.”

So once more I had effected an entrance and I was in the sitting room with the picture of Annette of the saucy smile and ample bosom smiling at me.

Then I thought, go carefully. I was not going to give up now, if I could help it. That offer of more plants had been a good one. It was irresistible to her, and it was becoming something of a passion with me to discover more of Annette, and her mother could surely tell me as much as anybody.

She came in with a tea tray on which were two cups, milk, sugar, and a teapot over which was a cosy of pink and beige wool, obviously homemade.

She was a knitter then. That might be a subject to embark on, but alas one of which I was abysmally ignorant, as I was of gardening.

She poured out the tea.

I said: “This is very pleasant.”

She did not comment, but she did not look displeased.

“What an interesting teacosy,” I went on.

That was the right approach.

“You have to make these things yourself if you’re going to get what you want.”

“So you knitted that?”

“It’s not knitted. It’s crocheted. I do knit a bit, though.”

“Are you knitting at the moment?”

“A jersey,” she said tersely.

“That sounds interesting.”

“Had trouble getting the wool. This place…”

“You’d probably get what you want in Plymouth.”

“It’s a long way to go for a bit of wool.”

“You are really very talented,” I said rather obsequiously. “Making these things…and the garden as well. That’s really a show place.”

I was going too far. My desire to get onto the subject of her daughter was getting the better of my common sense.

She said: “How is your sister?”

“She is quite well. She gets tired easily.”

“Reckon you’ll want to be with her when her time comes.”

“I shall probably go home before that. It is not until November. But, yes, I shall want to be here then.”

She twisted her lips in a slightly mocking way, and, to my surprise, she said: “My girl…she was going to have a baby.”

Here was triumph indeed. I could scarcely believe I was hearing correctly.

“Yes,” I said. “That was a great tragedy.”

“Brings it back,” she said. “This new wife…”

“It would, of course,” I said encouragingly.

She looked at me intently. “You want to be careful of her…that sister of yours. There was something fishy…”

“Oh?” I said, daring to say no more for fear of stopping this much-desired and unexpected turn of the conversation.

“Well,” she went on, “after that other one…”

“Which other one?”

“People here are full of fancies. It was a long time ago. It was the same time of year. That old story. Have you heard the talk about those two families quarreling, and the girl going into the sea and not coming back?”

“Yes, I have heard of it. And you mean your daughter…?”

“She went swimming. People said there was something that made her go then. They found her body. She wouldn’t have gone swimming. Hadn’t she been told not to?”

I was a little lost but afraid to stop the flow. I said tentatively: “Do you feel there was some connection between your daughter’s death and that girl long ago?”

“It was drowning for both of them. Happen that’s what got people talking. Two drowned, you see.”

“It may be that several people have been drowned off this coast.”

“Happen. But then these two were connected with the house. You know what these people here are like? They say some spirit beckoned her into the sea. It’s a lot of rot. But that’s what they say…and there were the two of them.”

“The girl in the legend killed herself because she was not allowed to marry the man she loved.”

“That’s the tale. My Annette would never have killed herself. She wanted that baby, she did. How could she have gone swimming of her own accord when she knew it was dangerous for the child? That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Then how…?”

“Who can say? All I know is that I don’t believe she would have risked that baby’s life. I wasn’t pleased about what happened. I never wanted her to do that sort of work. She liked it, though. She’d never been what you’d call a quiet, good girl. There was always men about her. She liked that. She was one to go her own way. Wouldn’t listen to advice.”

“She was very pretty,” I said.

“That’s what they all said. Turned her head a bit. I never thought a daughter of mine…”

She stopped and stared ahead of her. I could imagine the upbringing. There would have been few demonstrations of affection from her mother. I wondered what her father was like. I could imagine him—grim, dour as his wife, working hard, getting his compensation when he was unable to work any more, coming to the Cornish coast which the doctor had said would be better for his health than the harsher climate of the North.

Annette may have looked elsewhere for expressions of affection, for laughter and gaiety. I wondered if she had found what she sought with Dermot.

I could scarcely believe that Mrs. Pardell, who had been so reticent, should now be talking to me thus. I imagined it was because I was the sister of Dermot’s second wife, who had replaced her daughter. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that she was going to have a child. The position was similar. Annette had been going to have a child, too.

It suddenly occurred to me that she might feel it was her duty to warn me in some way. Mrs. Pardell was a woman who would do her duty, however she might wish not to.

She leaned toward me suddenly and said: “I don’t believe she went swimming of her own accord that day.”

“What?” I said, taken aback.

“She wouldn’t have done. I can’t tell you how much she wanted that child. It changed her. Mind you, we hadn’t been on the best of terms because of what she’d been up to. But she wouldn’t have gone. She knew it was putting the child in danger. I don’t because she would never have done that…and nobody could make me believe it.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I expect you know something about it. It gets round. It’s the sort of thing people talk about. You know she was working there at the Sailor’s Rest. There she was, every night, laughing and joking. They were pleased to have her. She brought the customers in. I used to lie in bed waiting for her to come home every night. I said, ‘I’d rather see you cleaning someone’s house than doing that sort of job.’ It wasn’t a lady’s job and we’d tried to bring her up right.”

“I understand,” I said soothingly.

“There’s no need for me to tell you. I expect you know already how these people talk. That young man and his new wife has brought it all up again. When he married for the second time everyone was talking about Annette. With her, it was a case of having to get married. I don’t think he would have asked her otherwise and she’d still be there at the Sailor’s Rest. She might have married that young farmer at Perringarth on the moor. He was mad about her. But there it was. That Dermot Tregarland had to do the right thing by her. He seemed a decent young fellow then, but you can imagine what it was like up at Tregarland’s.”

She paused for a while before she went on slowly: “You might wonder why I’m telling you all this. It’s not like me to talk of it, but I’m thinking of your sister. I think you ought to look out for her.”

“Look out for her? In what way?”

“I don’t rightly know. It happened to my girl. It was about this time of the year…”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“Well, I just thought…you see…Annette and me…we wasn’t on speaking terms for a long time. When I heard she was going to have a baby and no wedding ring, I was flabbergasted. I told her her father would have turned her out. She laughed at that. Annette laughed at everything. She was never a good girl, always wayward, but…”

“I think she sounds rather lovable.”

Mrs. Pardell nodded her head without speaking. Then she went on: “When she got married and went to the big house, there was a lot of talk. I was in a way proud of her. He must have thought a lot of her, because there was his father up there, and I know he wouldn’t have liked it…her being a barmaid. She came to see me once or twice. There was one time…I knew it would be the last for some time because she wouldn’t be able to do that walk till after the baby was born. She had her car and she drove into Poldown, but she’d have to do the climb up the west cliff on foot. I am glad I saw her three days before she died. After all, she wasn’t the first one by a long chalk who had had to get wed in a bit of a hurry. She was happy enough. Dermot was a good husband and she could make him go her way. She said to me: ‘I can’t wait for this baby to come.’ She’d talk frankly about it, which I can’t say I liked very much. Sort of immodest, but Annette was like that. She said: ‘I can’t do anything now, Mam. It’s no good fretting about that. I can’t go swimming.’ I said: ‘Of course you can’t, you silly girl, in your state.’ ”

She sighed and I, amazed by this flow of confidence, just sat back quietly, fearing that at any moment it might stop.

“She’d always loved the water. I remember when we first went to the seaside. She was about eight years old then. I took her down to the seaside. She held up her hand…wonderstruck like…and ran right into the sea. After that it was swimming at school. She took to it like a fish. Regular champion she was. Won prizes. I could show you.”

“I should like to see them some time.”

“ ‘Well,’ she said to me: ‘It’s awful, Mam. I can’t swim. The doctor said no…some time back. It could hurt the baby.’ ‘Well, who’d want to swim in your state?’ I said. ‘I’d like to, but I wouldn’t do a thing to harm this baby. Mam, I’ve never wanted anything more. I’m going to love that baby like no baby was ever loved before.’ That’s what she said.”

She looked at me, her eyes blazing.

“Are you going to tell me that she went swimming on that early morning?” she demanded.

“But…she was in the water…the cross-currents…”

“Cross-currents, my foot. She could have swum in the roughest sea, that one. But she didn’t go in that morning. You’re not going to tell me she went in of her own accord.”

“Are you suggesting that she was lured in…by some spirit…of that girl who died long ago?”

“That’s what people here said at the time. But I don’t hold with all that nonsense.”

“Then what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. But you’ve got a sister up there. She’s going to have a baby. They say there’s some curse put on Tregarland’s by them Jermyns. It’s all nonsense, but…Well, you look after that sister of yours. You wouldn’t want what happened to my girl to happen to her.”

She sat back in her chair, looking into her cup where the tea had grown cold. She looked exhausted.

She was like another person. The hard shrewdness was just a veneer. She was a woman mourning a daughter whom she had loved and lost.

I said: “I am sorry…”

She looked at me searchingly. “You really mean that, don’t you?” she said.

“Yes, I do.”

She nodded and we were silent again. I knew it was time for me to go.

I stood up and said: “If you will let me know what cuttings you would like, I am sure there would be no difficulty in getting them.”

She gave me a rare smile. I felt glad that she was not regretting her confidences. In fact, I had a notion that she felt better for talking to me.

It was almost as though we were friends.

When I left the cottage I felt bemused. She had so convinced me that Annette could not have gone swimming of her own accord. When? How? On those wild cliffs one could almost believe there was some foundation in the legends which abounded here.

I walked thoughtfully down the west cliff and into Poldown. I crossed the old bridge to the east side and made my way toward the sea.

On impulse, I decided I would go back right along the shore rather than take the cliff road. I set out, my thoughts still with Annette. I could picture her clearly, for the photograph told me a good deal. She was a girl who loved pleasure, and she was determined to get the most out of life; she was very attractive to the opposite sex and well aware of it. She was impulsive, living in the present; she was everything that her mother had taught her not to be.

A slight breeze was blowing in from the sea. I walked close to the frilly-edged waves and listened to their murmur.

A young couple with a small boy, carrying bucket and spade, came along. Holiday makers, I thought. We exchanged smiles as we passed.

Deep in thought, I went on. I came to a barrier of rock which went out into the sea. I scrambled over it and found that I was in a kind of cove. There was another rock barrier which shut it in. The high cliff protruding over it made it look rather cosy, shut in by the rocks on either side as it was.

I decided to sit down for a while and to go over my conversation with Mrs. Pardell. I settled with my back to the cliff, thinking how strange it was that she had suddenly begun to talk to me. I congratulated myself afresh as to the cleverness of my approach. Perhaps I had caught her at a moment when she felt the need to confide in someone. Poor Mrs. Pardell! How very sad to lose the daughter for whom, in spite of her disapproval, she had cared deeply.

I wondered what life had been like in that cottage when Annette became a barmaid at the Sailor’s Rest. I imagined her admirers, Dermot among them. He was perhaps rather susceptible. He had almost immediately fallen in love with Dorabella. It might have been the same with Annette. I could imagine the quick romance, the consequences, and when she knew she was going to have a baby, he was brave enough to fight the family opposition and marry her.

And then…she died.

I stared out to sea watching the waves advance and recede.

What had Mrs. Pardell said about Dorabella? She had warned me. Did she think that some supernatural being was going to lure Dorabella into the sea? She was a practical woman, priding herself on her down-to-earth approach to life, and her good Northern common sense would not allow her to believe that what had happened was what it seemed. And she had told me this because she had thought I needed to know.

The answer must be that Annette had believed she would be safe swimming because it was something she had always done expertly. It might be that she had been overcome by cramp. That was possible. There must be a simple, logical reason why she was drowned that morning.

It was time to go. I was not sure how long I had been sitting there, so completely absorbed had I been in my thoughts.

I rose and went to the barrier rock. I was about to scramble over when, to my dismay, I realized that while I had been sitting there, the tide had come right in. I had failed to notice that the cove was on much higher ground than the beach on either side of the rocks, and if I stepped over them I should be waist high in water.

I looked about me and saw that the sea had crept well into the cove itself while I had been sitting there. I must have been there for nearly half an hour.

I ran to the other side. The sea was splashing about the rocks. It had come in a considerable distance; and even in the cove now there was only a narrowing strip of dry sand.

I was panic-stricken. What could I do? I could not make my way along the beach. The tide was coming in rapidly. In a short time the cove would fill. I was not a good swimmer.

I looked up at the overhanging cliff. I could not climb that. It was unscalable. There were a few clumps of valerian to cling to, but how strong were they? And in any case they were too few and far between.

What a fool I had been! While I had been complimenting myself on my cleverness in extracting so much from Mrs. Pardell, I had stupidly walked into this trap.

I looked about me in dismay. The implacable sea was creeping in slowly but very surely. For some seconds I stood helpless…not knowing what to do. How long, I wondered, before the sea filled the cove? How long could I survive? Could I attempt to scale the cliff? I knew it would be impossible. I was going to be drowned like the lovelorn maiden of the legend and Annette. Could there possibly be some curse…?

I was getting hysterical. I must not do that. I had been foolish and brought this on myself. Oh, why had I made that foolish decision to forsake the cliff path for the beach? I was to blame. This was no mythical revenge.

But what was I to do?

The sea was creeping nearer. Soon it would be rushing into the cove. I must do something, but what? I was completely unprepared for such a situation—helpless, ignorant.

Then my heart seemed to stop beating, for I heard a voice.

“Hello…there!”

Relief swept over me. It was a voice I knew—that of Gordon Lewyth.

I gazed upwards. He was standing looking down on me from the cliff path.

He put his hands to his mouth and shouted: “What are you doing down there?”

“I seem…to be cut off by the tide,” I shouted back.

“You can’t stay there.” There was a moment’s silence. Then he cried: “The cove will be flooded in ten minutes.”

“What?” I cried.

He was gone.

I was filled with fear. Why had he disappeared? Why didn’t he try to help? He had gone and left me to my fate.

Panic rose in me. What did it mean? I remembered how he had followed me when I had paid another visit to Mrs. Pardell. He had watched me come out of her house. I recalled the uncanny feeling I had experienced when he had stood close to me near that fragile fence. He knew I was here and he had gone away and left me.

What could it mean? Why did I have this feeling about Gordon Lewyth? Was it some premonition? I was rambling on in my panic-stricken mind. What did it matter what his motives were now? I was here and he had left me to my fate.

“Violetta!” It was a shout to the right of me. I turned sharply.

He was on the cliff, more than halfway down, holding on to a piece of rock which projected slightly.

The relief was almost unbearable. He had not deserted me.

“Get hold of the rocks on the side there,” he shouted. “See if you can scramble up a little.”

Panting, I managed to take a few faltering steps upwards. Cautiously he descended a foot or two. He was coming close. He leaned down and stretched out his hand.

“Can you take my hand?” he asked.

I tried and failed.

“I’m coming down a little,” he said. “Look out. It’s tricky.”

Very slowly he descended a few feet. Our fingers almost touched.

“Just a minute,” he said. “I have to get a grip here. Now…”

He had grasped my hand and I almost cried out with relief.

He said: “You’ve got to try and edge your way up. There’s a ledge along here…just a few inches more.”

His grasp seemed to be crushing my fingers, but I rejoiced in it.

“Come on. Be careful. Make sure your foot is firm before you lift the other.”

I edged toward him.

“Now…watch it,” he cried.

I was on a level with him.

“Just let me lead,” he said. “Hold on to my coat. I need both hands. And for God’s sake, don’t let go.”

Slowly and very cautiously we moved upwards. The rocks were damp with seaspray and slippery.

“Hold tight,” he cautioned, and I clung to his coat with all my might.

It seemed a long time before we reached that spot where the rock had formed itself into a ledge which was like a narrow seat. It was just a freak in the formation. The rock must have been broken away there, and on the resulting ledge four or five people could have sat huddled together.

It was not very wide, but we were able to sit on it, not with any great comfort, it was true, but it was a haven of rest for me.

“Now, your hand,” he was saying. “Be careful. It’s safe to sit here but watch out all the time. It might have been cut out of the rocks for this purpose. Phew, what a climb!”

I felt my voice tremble. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We can’t climb up. Look at that rock.”

“You climbed down.”

“I know. It’s tricky. But I know these cliffs well. It’s not the first time I’ve been down here. When I was a boy there was a group of us. We used to dare each other to take risks. You don’t know fear when you’re young. I must have been ten at the time. I got right down and sat on this ledge.”

“I am so grateful to you.”

“You wouldn’t have stood much chance down there, you know. The tide comes slowly into the cove at first and then with a rush. It’s due to the formation of the cove. Are you all right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“It’s safe enough but it doesn’t allow for wriggling. You must keep alert. The least jerk and you could go hurtling down.”

“I realize that.”

I noticed that his thick dark hair was damp with spray and exertion.

“I think,” he said, “it would be safer if you held my arm.”

“Thank you. I’d feel safer, too.”

“What a boon this place is! Look down there and see the way you came up.”

“I didn’t think I should be able to. It looked so hopeless.”

“You were lucky to be at that particular spot. There is just one place where it can be possible. I discovered it long ago. Not that it was easy. You could have fallen and that would have been fatal. I had done it once or twice and that stood me in good stead.”

We were silent for a while, watching the tide slowly creeping in.

“It’s nearly high now,” he said. “Then it will start receding. When it has a little, we can pass along the shore. Then we have the job of getting down. It might be easier than coming up, but we shall have to be very careful.”

“I understand. I just don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve said that.”

“I shall be saying it again, and so will my parents and Dorabella when they hear.”

“We’re not yet safe and dry.”

“I feel sure we shall be now.”

“That’s the spirit. It’s no use undertaking things expecting failure. You have been to Mrs. Pardell’s again.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw you leave.”

“Oh…you did last time.”

“Yes,” he said. “I was not far behind you going down into the town. Then I lost sight of you. I had some business to do there which detained me for a time and then, coming along the cliff road, I looked down and saw you.”

“It was idiotic of me.”

“It was…very reckless. Didn’t you know the tide was coming in fast? It is especially high just now.”

“I never thought of it.”

“It is wise to remember such things where the sea is concerned. It can be very dangerous, you know.”

“I do know that now. If you hadn’t come along then, I could have drowned. What can I say…?”

“We’re coming dangerously near to that old theme,” he said.

We laughed and it occurred to me that I had not heard him laugh before.

I was wondering about him. He had been so capable, so knowledgeable. He had nobly come to my aid and nothing would convince me that he had not risked his life in doing so. It was not what I would have expected from him.

We sat silently side by side for a few moments. I felt slightly chilled, in spite of the fact that it was a warm day. Perhaps it was emotion which made me want to shiver. After all, I had come close to death.

Death by drowning, I thought, like those others before me.

“We shall have to wait a bit for the tide to recede sufficiently to enable us to get along the beach,” he was saying. “Then, the descent. I wouldn’t want to risk your life trying to climb up to the cliff road. There’ll only be a narrow strip along the beach.”

I nodded, glad that he was in charge.

“We’ll make it all right. It’s the descent that will be tricky. Did you have a rewarding session with Mrs. Pardell?”

I was a little startled. “Rewarding?” I repeated.

“Well, I think you wanted to talk to her, didn’t you? The flower was a success, I believe, and she was grateful.”

“She was rather pleased.”

“And in return?”

“There was no question of reward.”

“I think you are rather interested in her.”

“Well, perhaps, in view of the family connection. What sort of girl was Annette? You must have known her.”

“She was rather…er…unsuitable. We were all astonished when Dermot married her.”

“In spite of…?”

“In spite of the circumstances? Particularly so, as it might not have been his responsibility.”

“He must have thought it was.”

“I imagine she was persuasive, and Dermot is somewhat impressionable.”

“She must have been very worried.”

“I daresay. Women usually are in such circumstances. Well, they married and a few months later she was foolish enough to go into the water in spite of her condition, and the fact that she had been warned against doing so.”

“People do foolish things sometimes.”

He looked at me and I saw the hint of a smile on his lips. He was surprising me very much. Now that I felt safe, I was beginning to find the adventure exhilarating. I refused to think of the climb down to the cove which had to come, for I was certain that, under his direction, it would be safely accomplished.

“Dermot must have cared for her,” I said.

“My mother did everything possible to make her comfortable. She was so good to her. She looked after her and helped her in every way.”

“And Mr. Tregarland?”

“You mean the old man…?”

“He’s not really so very old, is he?”

“He must be in his sixties. He married late, in his forties, I think. He has only become infirm during the last few years. His gout cripples him. One never really knows what he is thinking. I once knew a boy who liked putting spiders into a bowl from which they could not escape. He used to watch them for hours seeing what, captured as they were, they would do to each other. He reminds me of that boy, because it is as though he is watching us all in the same way.”

“I understand what you mean,” I said. “That is exactly how it seems to me. One gets the feeling he is watching everyone…in a rather mischievous way.”

“He has always been very good to my mother and me. It is many years ago that we came to Tregarland’s. I remember the time before that only vaguely. And suddenly we were at Tregarland’s…and we have been there ever since.”

“It is a wonderful old place.”

“It is.”

“And you are very interested in the estate.”

“Yes, but…” He did not continue, but stared out to sea. Then he said: “I think the tide is turning now.”

“They will be wondering where I am.”

“I’m afraid they will. Was your sister expecting you back?”

“I am usually with her when she has had her rest.”

“I hope she doesn’t get too anxious. Yes. I am sure it is on the turn.”

“How long do you think before we can attempt the journey down?”

“I am not quite sure. Some little time yet. I want to make certain that it is safe before we do so. It isn’t very comfortable sitting here, I’m afraid.”

“I am sure being submerged in the cove would have been far more uncomfortable. If you had not come along…”

“Shush,” he said.

“I was just going to say what a happy coincidence for me.”

We were silent for a while, then I said: “Tell me about your coming to Tregarland’s all those years ago.”

He paused and I had the impression that he was thinking he had said too much already. He was, I guessed, by nature reticent.

However, he went on: “It’s all rather vague to me. We were in a little house near dockland. When we arrived at Tregarland’s it was as though some genii had transplanted us to a castle. My mother told me that Mr. Tregarland was a distant connection. I’ve never found out what that connection was. I think it must be very remote. Anyway, Mr. Tregarland’s wife had died. There was a son, slightly younger than I, and she was going to keep house there. She was not to be treated quite like a housekeeper and she could take me with her to be brought up there. It seemed like an excellent arrangement for us at least, and I am sure for Mr. Tregarland. My mother is one of the most capable people I have ever known. Life became luxurious suddenly.”

“And has been ever since?”

“Well, people soon get used to comfort, particularly children.”

“And you have made the estate your mission in life.”

“I have worked hard at it.”

“And Dermot?”

“He is inclined to take everything for granted. The place will be his in due course.”

“But you will always be there.”

He did not answer for a moment. Then he said, as though talking to himself: “A place of one’s own could make one very contented. To stand in the fields and say, ‘This is mine.’ Do you see what I mean?”

“I do.”

“I am very interested in Tregarland’s. Proud of it, you might say, but…”

“My father, who knows a great deal about these things, says you manage it excellently.”

He looked pleased.

“He has his own estate.”

“Yes, it has been handed down from generation to generation, as I suppose Tregarland’s has. I have a brother, Robert, who is being trained to take over one day.”

“And Tregarland’s will go to Dermot and his sons.”

“But Dermot does not feel about it as you do.”

“No, but it will be his.” There was the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice.

“But you will always be there. How could they manage without you?”

“Oh, Dermot could find a manager.”

“And you?”

“I cannot say.”

“What you really want is a place of your own.”

“Yes, that is what I want.”

“Do you think…?”

“I shall ever have it? To use a well-worn phrase, that is in the lap of the gods.”

“You told me a little time ago that when something is important to you…like climbing the cliff…you are determined to do it. That must apply to wanting your own place. So you must not think of failure.”

He turned to me and I saw that smile again.

“I tell you this,” he said, and his jaw was firm. “I am going to do everything I can to get it.”

“I shall wish you luck—although at the same time I can see it would be a bitter blow for Tregarland’s.”

After that we fell silent and neither of us seemed eager to break it.

I watched the waves. I could see the cove from where I sat. The sea was gradually receding. It would soon be time to do the difficult descent.

The way down was hazardous. It took time and great care. Gordon Lewyth went ahead of me. Sometimes he held my hand, at others he made me cling to his coat.

I was full of thankfulness for his fortuitous appearance and admiration for the manner in which, through his childhood memories of the rocks, he had brought us to safety.

Eventually we stood side by side in the cove. It was wet and soggy and the sea was very close. A great joy swept over me. It was so good to be alive.

We looked at each other and, in those seconds, I thought he was going to kiss me, for he swayed toward me and then moved back.

I said tremulously: “I know I’m supposed not to, but I am going to say thank you. I have rarely felt so grateful to anyone in the whole of my life.”

He looked embarrassed.

“Come on,” he said. “We shall be very late. We’ll have to pick our way carefully across the sand. It will be slippery as the tide has just gone out. Mind the rocks.”

“I will,” I said, and we walked side by side along the beach.

There was a great deal of fuss when we reached the house. I had been expected back three hours earlier. They were all in the hall—Dorabella, Dermot, Matilda, and the old man. I could not fail to see the excitement in the latter’s eyes.

Dorabella came to me and hugged me while she scolded.

“Where have you been? We’ve been frantic.”

I explained while Gordon said nothing.

“He was absolutely wonderful,” I finished. “I could never have climbed the cliff alone.”

I saw Matilda’s lips twitch as she regarded her son with pride.

“I am so glad…so glad,” she said.

“Whatever made you walk along the beach?” demanded Dorabella. She had been really scared and wanted to go on blaming me.

“It was silly, but I didn’t think…”

“Well, you are back now,” said Matilda. “Both of you must be exhausted…and chilled.”

“I’m hot now actually,” I said.

“Nevertheless, I think you need a good strong drink. Brandy, don’t you think, Gordon?”

Gordon thought it would be a good idea.

I was briefly reminded of that other occasion when I had taken brandy with Jowan Jermyn in Smithy’s.

They all sat round while we drank, and I described exactly what had happened. Gordon had lapsed into his habitual reticent manner while I did the talking. Dorabella sat close to me, and every now and then she would touch my arm as though to reassure herself that I was still there. I found that very endearing.

I repeated how wonderful Gordon had been, how he had so cleverly hauled me up to him, how we had sat on the ledge in the cliffs which he remembered from his childhood days, waiting for the tide to recede before we scrambled down.

“I could never have done it alone,” I said. “I did not know which way to turn.”

“You could have been drowned,” whispered Dorabella.

“I think that is very likely. I have to thank Gordon.”

Gordon said: “Oh, you would have clambered up somehow.”

“Good old Gordon,” said Dermot.

“It was a miracle that he came along in time,” said Matilda. “And he is always so calm in any emergency. Most people would have panicked and dashed off to get help and, by the time that came, it could have been too late.”

“I was lucky to know the cliffs so well,” said Gordon.

“And I was lucky that you saved my life,” I added.

“Yes,” said Matilda firmly. “It was a wonderful rescue, and I’m proud of you, Gordon.”

I caught the old man’s eyes. I could not read the expression there. He said: “Well, my dear, we are all happy that we have not lost you. It will be a warning to you. Don’t take risks with the sea.”

“I shall be very careful in future, I assure you.”

Dorabella said: “I feel exhausted by all this. I shall have my meal in bed and Violetta must have hers with me. I want to get used to the idea that she is safe. Otherwise I shall have nightmares.”

Dorabella looked very pretty, sitting up in bed with her hair falling about her shoulders.

She demanded to know everything, for she was sure there was more than I had told the others.

“Fancy Gordon,” she said. “One doesn’t see him exactly in the role of gallant knight, does one?”

“He was very practical.”

“It’s so romantic.”

“You should have seen us climbing the cliff. Most inelegant, I am sure, and far from romantic.”

“Now, Vee, of course it was romantic. Damsel in distress, gallant young man rides by.”

“He was walking.”

“It was like Sir Lancelot.”

“I did not know he ever rescued anyone from drowning.”

“Well, one of them must have done. And what was he like? He must have been different. He’s always so aloof…what did he say?”

“We talked a bit.”

“What about?”

“Nothing very much really.”

“You can’t be all that time sitting on a ledge talking about nothing much. Come on, tell me, or I shall be very cross and that is bad for my condition.”

“He told me a little about his childhood before he came to Tregarland’s and how, when he was a boy, he explored the cliffs, which was a great help to us then, and how he would really like a place of his own.”

“A place of his own?”

“Well, he only works here, doesn’t he?”

“What does he want a place of his own for? He runs this one.”

“It will be Dermot’s in due course. A man such as he is, who cares about the land, would naturally want his own place.”

“He didn’t…er…make any approaches?”

“Approaches? Gordon? What do you mean?”

“Well, a man and woman in those circumstances…barriers come down and all that.”

“You are talking about Gordon Lewyth. Your mind runs on one thing. I am not the frail little piece of femininity that all men wish to protect. I am plain, no-nonsense, usually able to look after myself.”

“It did not seem like it this afternoon. He does like you, I’m sure. Even if he didn’t before, he will after this. People always like those whose life they save. Every time they look at them they are reminded how wonderful they were and how the saved one must be eternally grateful.”

I laughed.

“Where were you going anyway?”

“I was coming back to Tregarland’s.”

“Naturally. But where had you been?”

I hesitated. I did not want to tell her I had been with Mrs. Pardell. I was still not sure how she felt about Annette. Perhaps I would tell her later…choose my moment. To talk about the death of her predecessor might upset her in her present state.

“Oh, just for a walk,” I said.

“And what about this Jermyn man? You haven’t seen him yet.”

“No.”

“Well, you usually do when you come here.”

“Perhaps I will.”

“Do you know, Vee, you are a dark horse. Grim Gordon risks his life for you. Then there are secret meetings with the family’s enemy. That’s two of them. I believe you are a femme fatale.”

“Oh, no. That is your role.”

“We are really one. You know that. We are different, of course, but that is because we are one person. I used to think that the foolish side was myself and the sensible side you. But not after this afternoon. Who was silly enough to get caught by the tide? I shall taunt you with that throughout our lives, whenever you put on one of your superior acts. When did I ever do anything so foolish as that?”

“I’ll consider it. I am sure I shall be able to come up with something.”

She put out her tongue at me and laughed. She was so happy and I knew it was because I was safe and back with her.

She went on: “I am longing to hear more of the enemy.”

“You are thinking of that silly old feud. Jowan Jermyn is not an enemy.”

“He will have heard by now of your adventure. News travels fast here. We may be something of a backwater, but our communication service is superb. I have discovered that lots of people here are related to each other—many sisters and cousins are working for the various people around. So news is circulated quickly. Most things we do are recorded as soon as they take place. We are all living in glass houses, so that adventure of yours on the cliffs will be headline news, or would be if they had newspapers. Mr. Jermyn will know of it by now and gnashing his teeth because he was not the one to make the gallant rescue.”

“What nonsense!”

“Promise me you’ll go and see him tomorrow…when I am having this ridiculous rest of mine…you go to the meeting place and see if he is there. You must promise me. In my condition I have to be humored.”

We were laughing again.

“And when you come back, I want you here with me…to tell me every detail.”

I promised.

The next afternoon, true to my promise to Dorabella, I decided I would go to the field and see if Jowan Jermyn were there. I did not believe Dorabella was right in believing that he would already have heard of my adventure, but he might know that I had been in Cornwall for a few days. In any case, there was no harm in riding to the field. If he were not there, I would just ride around and tell Dorabella that I had kept my promise.

I went to the stables. Jack was not there. A young man was grooming one of the horses. I had seen him before and I knew he was Seth. He was about nineteen or twenty and had large gray eyes which seemed to be looking at something the rest of us could not see. I had heard that there was something strange about Seth. He was “piskymazed,” said some. “Something missing in the top story,” said others. He was always referred to as Poor Seth, but all admitted that he had a way with horses.

I said: “Good afternoon, Seth.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and went to Starlight’s stall. He was muttering something to her, patting her as he led her out. I noticed the loving way he touched her and I saw her response. Oh, yes, he had a way with horses.

He started to saddle her. Then suddenly, he looked at me with those strange eyes and said: “Be careful, Miss. What did happen yesterday…”

He had a slurred way of speaking, as though his tongue were too big for his mouth, and I had some difficulty in hearing him.

“Master Gordon…” he said. “If ’e ’adna been there…”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “He saved my life. There was no way I could have escaped from the cove if he hadn’t come to help me.

“ ’Twere ’er again, Miss.”

“Her?”

“Her from over Jermyn’s.”

I looked puzzled.

He went on dealing with Starlight, murmuring to her as he did so.

“ ’Tis the curse, Miss. ’Er drowned herself, didn’t ’un. ’Twere ’er. She be after folk at Tregarland’s. Women…’er wants ’un with her …so ’er comes back to get ’un.”

This sounded like garbled nonsense to me. He was “piskymazed.” Poor boy. But I wanted to know what was in his mind.

“Tell me, Seth,” I said. “What do you know about her…coming to get them?”

“ ’Er drowned, didn’t ’er? It was ’cos of Tregarland’s. ’Er’s doing to them what was done to ’er. There were Mr. Dermot’s first wife…her from the Sailor’s Rest.”

“What of her, Seth?”

“ ’Er went down to the sea…and that baby went with her. That’s what her wanted.”

“Her?” I repeated.

“ ’Er from Jermyn’s. ’Er ’ave it in for Tregarland women…well, ’er would, wouldn’t ’er?”

“But she is dead, Seth. How could it be?”

He looked at me in amazement. “ ’Er comes back, don’t ’er? I seen ’er.”

“You’ve seen her! But she’s dead.”

“She come back and ’er got the first Mrs. Tregarland, didn’t ’er? ’Er beckoned her into the sea. I seen ’er. Then…Miss…the sea nearly got you.”

“I’m not a Tregarland, Seth.”

“Aye…but your sister be. That’s close enough for ’er.”

Poor Seth. He was indeed crazy. But now he had saddled the horse and she was ready for me.

“Thank you, Seth,” I said, smiling.

“She be a good ’un,” he said. He patted Starlight lovingly. “You be a good ’un,” he said in her ear and she rubbed her nose into his hand.

I rode out of the stables, wondering what was going on in Seth’s muddled mind.

I made my way to the field. There was no one there and I felt deeply disappointed. I was about to ride away when I hesitated. After all, there had been no fixed arrangement. I looked at my watch. It was about five minutes earlier than last time.

I dismounted and, tethering Starlight to a tree, I sat down, leaning against a hedge. I was still thinking about Seth and how pleasant it would be to talk to Jowan Jermyn when I saw him riding toward me.

He pulled up sharply.

“Oh,” I said, “so you came.”

“Naturally. I came yesterday and the day before.”

“I am sorry. But it wasn’t a definite arrangement, was it?”

He shook his head. “Well, now you are here, it’s cider time once more. Let’s see, it was the Horned Stag last time. This time it shall be the Lion’s Head. That’s in another fishing village slightly smaller than Poldown, similar and yet different. I think you will like it. May I say how pleased I am to see you.”

“And I you.”

“That is nice to hear. Would you like to go now?”

I had risen to my feet and he helped me mount Starlight and soon we were riding out of the field.

“Did you have an interesting time in London?”

“Very interesting, thank you. And you…here?”

“Much as usual. We go westwards. It’s about four miles along the coast. Will that suit you?”

I said it sounded good.

He asked about Dorabella and we talked lightly as we rode along. Often we had to go in single file through narrow lanes so it was not possible to hold much of a conversation.

We climbed fairly high and then descended into the fishing village to the Lion’s Head on the sea front.

There were stables where we could leave the horses and we did this and went into the inn parlor.

There was a similarity between these hotels and it would be hard to distinguish one from another. There was the traditional inglenook and the cosy, intimate atmosphere.

We sat down and he ordered cider.

“You’ll find little difference in that, either,” he said. “I expect it all comes from the same source.”

When we were alone he went on: “Congratulations! I heard you have been snatched from the jaws of death.”

I laughed. “Dorabella was right…”

“In what way?”

“She said you would have heard of it through the local news service.”

“But of course. I was told at breakfast this morning by one of the servants. He has a dramatic touch. ‘That there Miss what’s-her-name, you do know, sir, the new one’s sister up at Tregarland’s, ’er had a near shave ’er did. Caught in that there cove. You do know how easy that can be, sir, the way that old tide do come in there…all of a rush like. And what was ’er doing down there? Didn’t know nothing about tides seemingly.’ ”

His reproduction of the accent was very good. I laughed and he sat back surveying me.

“The reporting is fairly accurate,” I said. “I was caught by the tide.”

His face was grave now. “It could have been dangerous,” he said.

“I know now. I just didn’t think of it.”

“Very remiss of you.”

“Well, it was an experience.”

“I believe someone said, ‘Experience is the name we give to our mistakes.’ ”

“It could only have been Oscar Wilde. It’s true, of course. But our mistakes do teach us not to repeat our follies.”

“Well, then, it was not in vain.”

“Gordon Lewyth was wonderful.”

“I am sure he was. Quite a feat, I imagine, on that cliff face.”

“It was a great good fortune for me that he happened to be passing and saw me.”

He looked at me intently and said: “That was his good luck. I wish it had been mine.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Poor Lewyth. He’s in an invidious position.”

“He is devoted to Tregarland’s.”

“Yes, but the place will never be his. A pity. He’s done more for it than anyone. James Tregarland…”

“That’s old Mr. Tregarland?”

“Yes. He was letting the place run to ruin. He was not meant for the land. He’s clever, they say. He used to be something of a wit, I believe. He spent hardly any time here. He was always in London. Something of a gambler. He married late in life…a charming lady, by all accounts, but he wasn’t the sort to settle down. He just married for the sake of the family—so I’ve heard. His wife provided the required son, Dermot, and after a year or so, she died. Then the Lewyths came. She was a good-looking woman…some vague family connection, it was said, and with her her young son. Things settled down for a while, but James Tregarland was never one for the land. It was lucky that when Gordon grew up he could take over. He saved the place from disaster…just in time. Such estates can stand one indifferent generation but no more, so it was like a miracle that Gordon could take over and so efficiently. Though it is all for Dermot’s benefit.”

“Dermot has the same indifference.”

“It seems so. They should thank Heaven for Gordon.”

“As I did yesterday. By the way, that boy in the stables. Do you know anything about him?”

He looked puzzled.

“I wondered if he would be an item of news. He seems a little mad. He said such a strange thing to me today just as I was coming out. He had evidently heard what happened on the cliffs yesterday, and he seemed to think that some evil force was at work to harm me.”

“Harm you?”

“Because of my connection with the Tregarlands…sister of the bride.”

“Oh? What did he say?”

“Something about the curse. That ancestor of yours who walked into the sea because of her blighted love affair is now taking her revenge on Tregarland women.”

“Poor old Seth, was it? He’s said to be a little addlepated.”

“Piskymazed, I have heard.”

“It’s the same thing. It means mental confusion. He must have heard about your adventure yesterday and he thought of the first Mrs. Tregarland who was drowned. He connected the two.”

“Has he always been like that?”

“Oh, no. Something happened to him when he was about ten. He is the son of one of the grooms. He has a way with horses. There was an incident in the stables one day. A wild horse which broke free. The boy was there. He was knocked down and the horse rode over him. It damaged his head, and he has been strange ever since.”

“That would account for it, I suppose.”

Then I told him about Mrs. Pardell and how she had talked to me.

“You did well,” he said. “She is not usually so forthcoming.”

“I was sorry for her. I think she really cared about her daughter.”

“She is one of those people who find it difficult to express their feelings. They always miss something, I think, don’t you?”

I said I thought they might.

“But I sensed when I was with her that she loved her daughter and grieved for her,” I said. “She talked a little about Annette. She seems to have been a very bright person.”

“Indeed, yes. She was very suited to her job. There would always be a crowd of admirers round her.”

“Dermot among them,” I said.

“You know how people talk. They said he was one of several and that she chose the right one to blame for her condition.”

“And he accepted it,” I said.

“Dermot is a kindly young man. He would do what he thought was right.”

“I daresay he was in love with her.”

“I don’t know. There is certain to be talk about that sort of situation in a place like Poldown. However, it is in the past. Let us drink to the present Mrs. Tregarland, and may she bring forth a healthy son and live happily ever after.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

He smiled at me across the tankards. “I should like to meet her.”

“And she would like to meet you.”

“You have mentioned me to her?”

“To her, but to no one else, in view of this ridiculous feud. When she is active again, she and I will put our heads together and see what we can do to break it.”

He lifted his tankard. “To your success,” he said.

I felt happy to be in his company. We rode back together and made arrangements to meet a few days later.