Garth of Tregillis (13 page)

Reluctantly she sidled off, casting inimical glances at Emile as she departed.

Once she had gone Emile perked up. It was clear to me suddenly that he was accustomed to being always with grown-ups and that this accounted for his precise, old-world manners.

‘How on earth did Melinda get this fantastic idea into her head?’ wondered Mrs. Kinnefer. 'Now that she sees how it annoys him She’ll never let up until she’s driven the poor child quite frantic.’

‘It’s just as well they’ll be separated shortly,’ I murmured, my eyes on Emile, who had moved into the great room and was sliding on the polished floor.

As I turned my head I found myself fixed by an enquiring look from the housekeeper. ‘Melinda was telling me that the Comtesse is coming for a short holiday and is taking Emile home with her,’ I explained.

Mrs. Kinnefer shook her head doubtfully. ‘I wonder about that,’

she said quietly. ‘Of course that’s what Mr. Garth would be likely to tell the child. He’d hardly mention an engagement.’

‘Then they’re engaged!’ I exclaimed.

‘Oh, we don’t really know,’ Mrs. Kinnefer said hurriedly, lowering her voice. ‘This is only talk amongst the staff, you understand, and I wouldn’t have it repeated for the world.’ She threw me an appealing glance. It was only too clear that in the excitement engendered by the preparations for the Comtesse’s arrival she had let her tongue run away with her.

‘The ballroom will be wonderful when it’s ready,’ I said to change the subject.

‘Oh yes, you should see it when the chandeliers are lit,’ she agreed.

‘But I’m amazed at how quickly everything has happened,’ I confessed. ‘Yesterday none of this was even mooted and today—

well, it’s obvious that the house is going to be completely ready within a few days.’

‘That’s Mr. Garth!’ Mrs. Kinnefer said with a touch of pride.

‘Once he makes up his mind to do anything he has it put in hand right away. And there’s no use arguing with him, for he knows exactly what he wants and nothing will stop him getting it. He sets very high standards, but you know where you are with him—

though it’s hard on the staff,’ She admitted, ‘and sometimes I wish I were a few years younger. Such a change from Mr. Giles’s day!

He was so easy-going—at least he was until—’ She stopped abruptly, then hurried on, ‘With the Comtesse coming things will be more like they were in the days of Mrs. Giles Seaton. She loved to give parties and have crowds of gay people here at the week-ends. But even she liked to have things informal, and a ball will be something unusual. It’s clear that Mr. Garth is determined to give the Comtesse a really wonderful time. The cliff suite’s being redecorated and the furniture re-upholstered—and all within the space of a few days.’

She went on and on about the work that had been put in hand in preparation for Armanell’s arrival.

What had she been about to say concerning Giles Seaton, I wondered, when she had stopped abruptly? Then my thoughts turned to her reference to Diana’s mother, the last mistress of Tregillis, who loved gaiety and a happy informal crowd around her.

This was where Diana should have been, I was thinking resentfully. If Garth had treated Diana with consideration, would she not have been glad to return to Tregillis after her mother’s death? Had she been on the boat that fatal day would she have been able to save her father’s life? Perhaps Giles and his daughter should have been living at Tregillis at that moment—instead of the usurper, Garth. More and more I was beginning to believe what Diana had hinted in her diary—that Garth Seaton had no right to the life he enjoyed at Tregillis.

A FEW mornings later as I made my way to the schoolroom, I was reminded by the sounds of activity that came to me from lower in the house that Armanell was expected on the following day.

Earlier that morning, as I returned from a walk after breakfast, I had passed big conservatories full of exotic, unseasonable blooms; huge carnations, freesia and orchids. It was clear that there would be no lack of flowers for the house when Armanell made her appearance at the entertainment in her honour.

As I drew near to the schoolroom, the busy noises of the big house fell away behind me and when I went in and closed the door I found myself alone in the dreary, silent room: there were no curtains on the windows and a slight film of dust lay over the scarred table and uncomfortable wooden chairs. The black iron grate behind the brass fireguard looked ugly and bleak and the map of the world that hung on the wall had its glaze yellowed and cracked. The maids had neglected to dust this room during the previous few days: all their attention was being given to those parts of the house that Armanell would see.

I opened the door of one of the wide, green-painted cupboards.

Inside were the piles of ancient schoolbooks I had glimpsed on my last visit to the room. I took them out and placed them on the table and the first thing I came across was an arithmetic book with the name ‘Diana Seaton’ scrawled in childish writing. On the pages were drawings of matchstick men and inside the back cover a picture in crayon of a very green tree against a blue background.

At the bottom of the pile I came on a tattered atlas, the map of Europe showing the form of countries before the great wars had changed the outlines of national territories. The name on this was

‘Giles Seaton’. There were other names there too; a Beatrice, an Emily, an Edwin! How many generations were represented by that pile of dusty textbooks, I wondered, as I saw a reading book illustrated with drawings of little girls in pigtails bowling hoops.

In such an old house life was continuous from generation to generation : it was as though one could hear whispers and sighs and the faint laughter of those who had long departed.

I laid aside the last of the old textbooks and surveyed the dingy, forbidding room. This was where I should have to spend much of my time; also Emile, who was a fastidious little boy who loved cleanliness and order; and Melinda—because I had secretly decided to have her present at the lessons. If the room could be made attractive it might have a civilizing influence on that turbulent soul.

Suddenly my mind was made up. If, as it seemed, the schoolroom was to be neglected in the general furnishing of Tregillis, because Armanell’s eyes would never see it, then it behooved me to make it as attractive as possible— for my own sake and for the sake of the two children.

The first thing was to get rid of every particle of dust and grime, and with this in mind I set to with a will with sweeping brush and duster, and when I had finished, already the room was wearing a more cheerful air. Now if only I had pretty curtains to hang at the windows, how much more welcoming the room would appear! And if I could beg, borrow or steal an attractive carpet to cover the worn dark-green linoleum on the floor!

I set off in search of Mrs. Kinnefer and found her in the drawing-room in the midst of an argument with a very persuasive young man who was displaying a selection of delicately coloured silk rugs. I looked at them covetously. If I could only have a few of those to bear away with me to the desolate region of the schoolroom! However, I dismissed the idea as altogether too fanciful and as soon as Mrs. Kinnefer had a free minute put my request to her.

‘Curtains—for the schoolroom?’ She sounded incredulous.

‘But there’s never been curtains on the windows there—not as long as I’ve been at Tregillis! After all, why should there be? No one ever sees it.’

Except me, I thought resentfully—and the children, of course!

‘None of the other governesses ever suggested such a thing, and I’m sure when you think about it you’ll see it would never do!’

‘But why?’ I inquired. ‘The children would be the better for some brightness and colour in the room where they spend so much of their time—and certainly I should appreciate it.’

At my insistence her mouth folded angrily. ‘And pray who is to make curtains for the schoolroom windows— at this time of all times when we’re in the midst of preparations for the Comtesse’s arrival?’

‘I shall make them,’ I said, firmly. ‘All I ask is some pretty material.’

‘Oh, in that case you may do as you please. I wash my hands of the whole business. And as to curtain material—I’m sure I don’t know where you’re to find it. At the moment everything is out of its usual place. However, if you care to look in the attics you may come across something, for I know several bolts of brown tapestry material were put away when the study was refurnished.’

Brown tapestry material was certainly not what I had had in mind when I thought of making the schoolroom more attractive.

However, I did not dare to try her patience any further and was about to ask her how I should find my way to the attics when she said dismissingly, ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me. They expect me to be in forty places at once.’ And she hurried off leaving me staring after her broad back.

For a moment I was tempted to abandon the whole project.

Then I thought of Eunice. She would surely be able to direct me to the attics Mrs. Kinnefer had spoken of.

I mounted to the upper storey in which she had her ‘study’ and knocked on the door.

There came the sound of a small tinny crash, a muttered exclamation and Eunice threw open the door and for a moment stood regarding me without recognition.

She blinked and seemed to ‘come to.’ ‘Ah, Judith, how nice of you to call,’ she greeted me formally. ‘Do come in.’ She gestured me into the room with a hand which held a small, very battered, blue-enamelled teapot. ‘I was just making myself a cup of tea.’

Hospitably she found a seat for me by clearing a chair of a pile of books with a single sweep of her arm.

Into the blue teapot she put three heaped spoonfuls of tea from a tin labelled, ‘Stomach mixture; instant relief from over-acidity’, then poured in boiling water from a kettle that bubbled over a small spirit stove. ‘You couldn’t have timed your visit better, Judith. I think I told you the last time you were here that I’d just finished my chapter on the Civil War years—which left me, naturally, slap up against the Restoration. And would you believe it, I simply couldn’t make up my mind how to tackle it. I was stuck, as it were.’

She wrenched the lid from a square box labelled, ‘Genuine Highland Fling Shortbread’ took out a large wedge of chocolate cake and cut it into two equal portions with a black-handled bread-saw.

‘Suddenly in the middle of the night it came to me how the chapter should go. I got up at three o’clock in the morning and wrote and wrote until it was finished. I’m just dying to have someone read it and tell me whether it’s come off or not.’

She thrust into my hand a small pile of handwritten sheets and held out a thick green mug of steaming tea. Her own tea was taken from a fragile china cup ornamented with pink roses, but lacking a handle. However, she did not seem to be at all put out by the heat of the tea which to me seemed to be near boiling point.

‘Only condensed milk, I’m sorry to say,’ she said, puncturing a small tin and pouring a generous portion into my mug. ‘But it’s too much to expect the maids to bring fresh milk up here to the top of the house each day, and milk gets sour so quickly in hot weather, doesn’t it?’

She watched my expression with eager attention while I read her account of the adventures of Bevil Seaton who had joined Charles the Second in exile and the happy ending of his adventures when his lands were restored to him when the king returned to England triumphant. Bevil lived to enjoy the fruits of his loyalty to his sovereign, for he died at the age of ninety.

When I had read the chapter and we had discussed it from every angle and I had given her work the praise she so obviously expected, I was able at long last to introduce the object of my visit.

‘Pretty curtains for the schoolroom,’ she murmured thoughtfully, when I had told her of my plans. ‘Not a bad idea.

Dingy old places, schoolrooms—and I should know, having been a governess myself. It’s hard to tell which is the worse—the old-fashioned type of classroom where you have to teach forty or fifty children at a time or the lonely life of the little well-to-do children in their dreary schoolrooms set away at the top of old houses and forgotten. You know, I tried to escape school teaching by taking on a job as a governess, and really it was out of the frying-pan into the fire. And it was while I was acting as governess that I wrote to Giles at last. I was at the end of my tether, you see. And wonderfully he came to my rescue, brought me here to Tregillis and gave me a home. That’s why I can never be grateful enough to him—or loyal enough. No matter what anyone may say of him, you’ll never hear a word of criticism from me, I can tell you that.’

I looked at her in surprise, What was it others could say about Giles? I wondered. I remembered Mrs. Kinnefer’s sudden reserve concerning him. ‘He was so easy-going, at least he was until—’

Until what? Verity too had spoken ambiguously of Paul’s attitude towards his former employer.

But before I could hit on a tactful way of trying to find out what she was hinting at she changed the subject abruptly by saying,