Legend of the Seventh Virgin (18 page)

“No,” I retorted, “I was thinking how far it must be from the kitchens to the dining room. Doesn’t the food get cold in transit?”

“Transit, eh? Who be ’e when he’s out? ’Tain’t going to worry ’ee, m’dear. You’ll never be eating in they dining rooms.” She gave a merry cackle. I caught Mellyora’s eye and read a warning and a plea. Don’t lose your temper, she was telling me. Give it a trial. It’s our only chance of being together.

I thought that I recognized some of the corridors through which I had run in panic on the night of the ball. At last we stopped at a door and Mrs. Rolt knocked.

When she was told to come in, she said in a voice very different from that which she had used for us: “My lady, the new companion and maid is come.”

“Bring them in, Mrs. Rolt.”

Mrs. Rolt jerked her head and we entered the room. It was large and lofty, with huge windows looking over the lawns; a fire burned in the enormous fireplace; the room seemed to me luxuriously furnished but my attention was focused on the woman who sat upright in a chair near the fire.

“Come here,” she said imperiously. Then, “That will do, Mrs. Rolt. Wait outside until you are summoned.”

As we advanced Mrs. Rolt retired.

“Pray sit down, Miss Martin,” commanded Lady St. Larnston. Mellyora sat while I remained standing because I was not invited to sit. “We did not discuss very fully what your duties would be, but that is something which you will, of course, discover as time goes on. I trust you read well. My eyes are not as good as they were and I shall need you to read to me each day. You will begin your duties without delay. Do you write a good hand? I shall need you to deal with my correspondence. These are matters which would ordinarily have been settled before you were engaged, but since we have been neighbors I felt a point could be stretched in your case. A pleasant room has been allotted to you. It is next to my bedroom so that you can be within call should I need you during the night. Has Mrs. Rolt told you where you are to have your meals?”

“Yes, Lady St. Larnston.”

“Well, that seems to have taken care of everything. You shall be shown your room and unpack your bag.”

She turned to me and lifted the lorgnette which hung from her waist and surveyed me coolly.

“And this is Carlee.”

“Kerensa Carlee,” I said as proudly as I had that day when I had stood in the wall.

“I have heard something of your history. I have taken you in because Miss Martin pleaded with me to do so. I trust you will not disappoint us. Mrs. Justin St. Larnston is not, I think, at home at the moment. You will be shown your room, and should wait there until she sends for you, which she will doubtless do on her return since she is aware that you are to arrive today. Now, tell Mrs. Rolt to come in.”

I opened the door promptly, as Mrs. Rolt was hastily stepping back, having, I guessed, been crouching forwards, ear to the keyhole.

“Mrs. Rolt,” ordered Lady St. Larnston, “show Miss Martin and Carlee to their rooms.”

“Yes, my lady.”

As we left, I was aware that Lady St. Larnston’s eyes were on me, and I felt depressed. This was more humiliating than I had imagined it would be. All the spirit seemed to have been drained out of Mellyora. It should not be so with me. I made myself feel defiant and angry.

Soon, I promised myself, I should know my way about this house. Every room and corridor would be familiar to me. I remembered the night I had fled from Johnny and the panic I had suffered then. I was certainly not going to allow Johnny to humiliate me if, for the time being, I had to submit to his mother’s insults.

“The family do have all their rooms in this part of the house,” explained Mrs. Rolt. “This be her ladyship’s and you’m next door, Miss Martin. Farther along the corridor, that be where Mr. Justin and his lady do have theirs.” She nodded to me. “You be there too.”

And so I was taken to my room — a maid’s room — but not an ordinary maid, I reminded myself. A lady’s maid. I was not like Doll or Daisy. I had special gifts and very soon I was going to make the kitchen staff aware of this.

In the meantime I must go slowly. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I did not look like myself at all. I was wearing a black cloak and black bonnet. Black didn’t suit me in any case, but the mourning bonnet hid my hair and was quite hideous.

Then I went to the window and looked out on the lawns and the Six Virgins.

That was when I said to myself, “You’re here. You live here.” And I couldn’t help but feel this triumph because it was where I wanted to be. My melancholy left me. I was exultant and excited. I was in the house as a servant, but that in itself was a challenge.

As I stood at the window, the door opened, and I knew at once who she was. She was tall and dark — though not as dark as I — she was graceful and dressed in a pearl-gray riding habit and her skin glowed, presumably with her recent exercise. She was beautiful and she did not look unkind. I knew her for my employer, Judith St. Larnston.

“You’re Carlee,” she said. “I was told you had arrived. I’m glad you’re here. My wardrobe is in a muddle. You’ll be able to put it in order.”

That staccato way of speaking immediately called to mind those panic-stricken moments in the cupboard.

“Yes … Madam.”

I had my back to the window so that I was in shadow; the light was full on her face; I noticed the restless topaz-colored eyes; the rather flaring nostrils, the full sensuous lips.

“Have you unpacked your bag?”

“No.” I wasn’t going to call her Madam any more than was absolutely necessary. I was already congratulating myself because I believed my employer was going to be more lenient and more considerate than Mellyora’s.

“Well, when you have done so, come to my room. Do you know where it is? No, of course not. How could you? I’ll show you.”

I followed her out of my room and a few steps along the corridor.

“This door leads to my bedroom and the dressing room. Knock when you’re ready.”

I nodded, and went back to my room. I felt better in her company than I had in Mrs. Rolt’s. I took off the hideous bonnet and felt better still. I tidied my hair which was dressed on top of my head, and the sight of those black gleaming coils reassured me. Beneath the black cloak I wore a black dress — one of Mellyora’s. I longed to put a touch of scarlet or emerald green at the neck, but I dared not, for I was supposed to be in mourning. However, I should wear a white collar as soon as possible, I promised myself.

I went along to the room as instructed, knocked discreetly and was bidden to enter. She was sitting at her mirror looking idly at her reflection, and she did not turn round. I noticed the big bed with the brocade hangings, the long tapestry-covered stool at its foot; the rich carpet and curtains, the dressing table at which she sat, with its wood carving and the huge candelabra on either side of the mirror held up by gilded cupids. And of course the cupboard which I remembered so well.

She had seen my reflection in the mirror and she turned to stare at me, her gaze resting on my hair. I knew that taking off my bonnet had transformed me and that because of it she was not so pleased with me as she had been before.

“How old are you, Carlee?”

“Nearly seventeen.”

“You are very young. Do you think you can do this work?”

“Oh yes. I know how to dress hair and enjoy caring for clothes.”

“I had no idea …” She bit her lip. “I thought you were older.” She came over to me, still looking at me. “I’d like you to go through my wardrobe. Make it tidy. I caught my heel in the lace of an evening gown. Can you mend lace?”

“Oh yes,” I assured her, although I had never done so.

“It is very delicate work.”

“I can do it.”

“I shall need you to lay out my things every evening at seven. You will bring up the water for my bath. You will help me dress.”

“Yes,” I said. “Which dress do you wish to wear tonight?”

She had challenged me and I was going to prove my efficiency.

“Oh … the gray satin.”

“Very well.”

I turned to the wardrobe. She sat down by the mirror and began playing nervously with the combs and brushes while I went to the wardrobe and took out the clothes. I marveled at the dresses. I had never seen anything so magnificent. I couldn’t resist stroking the velvets and satins. I found the gray satin, examined it, and was laying it out on the bed when the door opened and Justin St. Larnston came in.

“My darling!” It was like a whisper, but I heard the undertone of restless passion. She had risen and gone to him; in spite of my presence she would have embraced him had he given her some encouragement. “I wondered what had happened to you. I had expected you …”

“Judith!” His voice was cold, like a warning.

She laughed and said, “Oh, this is Carlee, the new maid.”

We looked at each other. He hadn’t really changed much from that very young man who had been present when they caught me in the wall. There was no recognition in his glance. He had forgotten that incident as soon as it was over, and the child from the cottages had made no impression on him.

He said: “Well, now you will have what you’ve been wanting.”

“I don’t want anything in the world but …”

He was almost willing her to silence. He said to me: “You can go now. Carlee, is it? Mrs. St. Larnston will ring when she needs you.”

I bowed my head slightly and as I walked across the room I could feel her watching me and watching him at the same time. I knew what she was thinking because of what I had overheard when I was hidden in the cupboard in this very room. She was a violently jealous woman; she adored her husband; she could not bear him to look at another woman — even her own maid.

I touched the coils of hair on the top of my head; I hoped that the complacency I felt did not show. I was thinking as I went back to my room that money, position didn’t necessarily make people happy. It was a good thing to remember when one was as proud as I was and found oneself suddenly in a humiliating position.

Those first days in the Abbas will stand out clearly forever in my mind. The house itself fascinated me even more than the people who lived in it. There was about it a brooding atmosphere of timelessness. It was so easy — when one was alone — to believe oneself to be in another age. Ever since I had heard the story of the Virgins my imagination had been captured; often I had pictured myself exploring the Abbas and this was one of those rare occasions when reality surpassed the imagination.

These lofty rooms with their carved and decorated ceilings — some painted, some inscribed in Latin or Cornish, were a delight to me. I loved to finger the rich stuff of curtains, to take off my shoes and feel the pile of carpet. I liked to sit on chairs and settees and imagine myself giving orders; and I sometimes talked to myself as though I were the mistress of the house. It became a game I enjoyed and I never lost an opportunity of playing it. But although I admired so much the luxuriously appointed apartments which were used by the family, I was drawn again and again to that wing of the house which was hardly ever used and which had obviously been part of the old convent. This was where Johnny had taken me on the night of the ball. There was about it an odor which both repelled and fascinated; a dank dark smell; a smell of the past. The staircases which seemed to appear suddenly and wind up for a few stairs and then stop at a door or a corridor; the stone which had been worn down by millions of steps; those strange little alcoves, with slit-like windows, which had been the nuns’ cells; and underground were the dungeons, for the place had had its prison. I discovered the chapel — dark and chill — with its ancient triptych, its wooden pews, stone-flagged floor, its altar on which stood candles as though in readiness for the inhabitants of the house to come and worship. But I knew it was never used now because the St. Larnstons worshiped at St. Larnston Church.

In this part of the house the seven virgins had lived; their feet had trod the same stone corridors; their hands had clasped the rope as they climbed the steep stairs.

I began to love the house; and since to love was to be happy, I was not unhappy, in spite of petty humiliations, during those days. I had asserted myself in the servants’ hall, and had rather enjoyed the battle which had had to be waged there, particularly as I assured myself I had been the victor. I was not beautiful with the finely chiseled features of Judith Derrise or with the delicate porcelain charm of Mellyora, but with my gleaming black hair, my big eyes which were very good at expressing scorn, and my pride, I was more startlingly attractive. I was tall and slender almost to thinness and possessed an indefinable foreign quality which, I was beginning to realize, could be used to my advantage.

Haggety was aware of it. He had put me at the table next to himself, a fact which I knew displeased Mrs. Rolt because I had heard her protesting. “Oh come now, m’dear,” he replied, “she’s after all the lady’s maid, you should know. A sight different from they maids of yours.”

“And where be she come from, I’d like to know.”

“That can’t be helped. ’Tis what she be that we have to take account on.”