Legend of the Seventh Virgin (45 page)

It was Kim, with Carlyon and Mellyora, who comforted me after the death of Granny Bee. They all did their best to rouse me from my melancholy; and I was comforted because during those days I became certain that Kim loved me; and I believed that he was waiting until I had recovered from the shock of the discovery of Johnny’s body and the death of Granny.

I would find him and Mellyora talking together about me, planning how to divert my thoughts from recent events. As a result we were often entertained at the Abbas and Kim was frequently at the Dower House. There was never a day when we did not meet.

Carlyon did his best, too. He had always been gentle, but during those days he was my constant companion; among the three of them I felt surrounded by love.

Autumn had set in with the usual southwest gales and the trees were being rapidly denuded of their leaves. Only the stubby firs bent and swayed in the wind and glistened as brightly green as ever; the hedges were draped with spiders’ webs and on the narrow threads the dewdrops glistened like crystal beads.

The wind dropped and the mist drifted in from the coast. It hung in patches that afternoon when I went along to Granny’s cottage.

I had promised her that I would go and find the formula which she had been so anxious for me to have; I would take it with the mantilla and comb and cherish them in memory of her. Joe had said that we ought not to allow the cottage to stand idle. We should put it in good order and let it. Why not? I thought. It was pleasant to own a little property, however small, and the cottage which had been built in a night by Grandfather Bee was of some sentimental value.

The cottage, being some little distance from the rest in the village and surrounded by its little copse of fir trees, had always seemed to stand apart. I was glad of that now.

I was steeling myself because I had not visited the cottage since Granny’s death and I knew it was going to be a painful experience.

I must try to remember her words. I must try to do what she would want. That was forget the past; not to brood; to live happily and wisely as she would have wanted me to.

Perhaps it was the stillness of the afternoon; perhaps it was my mission; but I suddenly had a feeling of uneasiness, a strange awareness that I was not alone; that somewhere, not far off someone was watching me … with evil intentions.

Perhaps I heard a sound in that still afternoon; perhaps I had been too deep in my thoughts to recognize it as a footfall; but nevertheless I had an uneasy feeling that I was being followed and my heart began to beat fast.

“Is anyone there?” I called.

I listened. Absolute stillness all about me.

I laughed at myself. I was forcing myself to visit the cottage which I did not want to do. I was afraid, not of something evil, but of my own memories.

I hurried on to the cottage and let myself in. Because of that sudden scare in the copse I drew the heavy bolt. I stood leaning against the door looking about me at those familiar cob walls. The talfat where I had spent so many nights! What a happy place that had seemed during my first days in the cottage when I had brought Joe to find a refuge with Granny.

The tears were blinding me. I should not have come so soon.

I would try to be sensible. I had always been impatient of sentiment and here was I weeping. Was this the girl who had forced her way from the cottage to the big house? Was this the girl who had refused Mellyora the man she loved?

But you are not crying for others, I told myself. You are crying for yourself.

I went into the storehouse and found the formula as Granny had said I would. The ceiling was damp. If the cottage were to be lived in, that would have to be repaired. No doubt there would have to be certain renovations. I had an idea of building on to it, making it a pleasant little house.

Then suddenly I stood very still because I was sure that the latch of the door was being tried … stealthily.

When you have lived in a house for many years you know all its sounds — the creak of the talfat with its own special creak, the floorboard which is loose, the peculiar sound of the latch being lifted, the creak of the door.

If someone was outside why did he … or she … not knock? Why did they try the door so stealthily?

I left the storehouse and came into the cottage room and went swiftly to the door and waited there for the latch to move. Nothing happened. And then suddenly the window was momentarily darkened. I, who knew that cottage so well, was instantly aware that someone was standing there looking in.

I did not move. I was terrified. My knees had begun to tremble and a cold sweat was on my skin, though I did not know why I should have been so frightened.

Why did I not run to the window and look for whoever was peering in? Why did I not shout as I had in the copse? Who is there?

I could not say then. I could only stand cowering against the door.

The room was suddenly light and I knew that whoever had been looking in at the window was there no longer.

I was very frightened. I did not know why, because I was not timid by nature. I must have stood there not daring to move for what seemed like ten minutes, but it could not have been more than two. I was clutching the formula, the comb and the mantilla as though they were a talisman which could protect me from evil.

“Granny,” I was whispering, “help me, Granny.”

It was almost as though her spirit was there in the cottage, as though she were telling me to pull myself together, to be my old brave self.

Who could have followed me here? I asked myself. Who could want to harm me?

Mellyora for ruining her life? As if Mellyora would ever harm anyone.

Johnny? Because he had married me when he need not have done. Hetty? Because he had married me when it was so important that he should marry her.

I was afraid of ghosts!

This was nonsensical. I opened the door of the cottage and stepped out. There was no one in sight.

I called: “Is anyone there? Does anyone want me?”

No answer. I locked the door hastily and ran through the copse to the road.

I did not feel safe until I came within sight of the Dower House; but as I crossed the lawn I saw that there was a fire in the drawing room and Kim had called.

Mellyora and Carlyon were with him; they were all talking animatedly.

I rapped on the window and they all looked towards me — pleasure apparent in their faces.

As I joined them by the fire I was able to tell myself that I had imagined the uncanny episode in the cottage.

The weeks began to pass. It was for me a time of waiting — and there were times when I believed Kim felt the same. Often I fancied he was on the point of speaking to me. Carlyon had become his friend, although no one could replace Joe in Carlyon’s affections and esteem. But he was allowed to make free with the Abbas stables and for him it was as though he still lived there. That was how Kim wanted it to be and this attitude gave me a great deal of pleasure because it seemed an indication of his intentions. Haggety had come back to his old position and Mrs. Salt and her daughter followed. It then seemed as though we had merely moved into the Dower House for convenience and that the Abbas was as much our home as ever.

We were like a cozy family — Kim and myself, Carlyon and Mellyora. And I was the center of it because they were concerned for me.

One morning Haggety brought me a note from Kim. He stood waiting while I read it because he told me there would be an answer.

My dear Kerensa,

I have something to say to you. I have been meaning to say it for some time but in the circumstances thought you would not yet be ready to make a decision. If it is too soon, you must forgive me and we will forget about it for a while. Where can we talk best? Here at the Abbas, or would you prefer me to come over to the Dower House? Would three this afternoon suit you?

Affectionately,

Kim.

I was jubilant. Now! I said to myself. This is the moment. And I knew that nothing in my life had ever been so important to me.

It should be at the Abbas, I decided — that place of destiny.

Haggety stood by me while I wrote:

Dear Kim,

Thank you for your note. I am most interested to hear what you have to say and should like to come to the Abbas at three o’clock this afternoon.

Kerensa.

As Haggety took the note and went out, I wondered if he, Mrs. Rolt, and the Salts were discussing me and Kim; I wondered whether they were laughing together, telling themselves that there would soon be a new mistress at the Abbas — the old mistress.

I went to my room and studied my reflection. I did not look like a woman who had recently heard that her husband had been murdered. My eyes were brilliant; there was the faintest color in my cheeks — rare with me, but how becoming as it went well with the shine in my eyes. It was now only eleven o’clock. In a short time Mellyora and Carlyon would come in from their walk. They must not guess how excited I was, so I should have to be careful during luncheon.

I decided what I would wear. A pity I was in mourning. One should not be in mourning when one received a proposal of marriage. Yet I should have to make a pretense of mourning for one year; the marriage could not take place before that was out. A year since Johnny’s death or discovery? What would be expected of me. Was I supposed to endure a year of widowhood? I would count from the night Johnny had disappeared.

What a gay widow I should be. But I must hide my happiness, as I had managed to do successfully so far. No one had guessed how joyful I was when they had found Johnny’s body.

A touch of white on my black dress? What about the lavender silk? It was half mourning; and if I covered it with a black coat and wore my black bonnet with the flowing widow’s weeds, I could remove cloak and bonnet while I took tea — for surely I should take tea. We would make our plans over the tea table. I would pour the tea as though I were already the mistress of the house.

The lavender, I decided. No one would see it. I would go across the meadow from the Dower House to the Abbas, past the Virgins and the old mine. Now that the mine was proved to be useless we would have all sign of it removed, I decided. It would be dangerous for our children.

At luncheon both Carlyon and Mellyora noticed the change in me.

“I have never seen you look so well,” Mellyora told me.

“You look as though you’ve been given something you wanted for a long time,” added Carlyon. “Have you, Mamma?”

“I haven’t received any presents this morning if that’s what you mean.”

“I thought perhaps you had,” he told me. “And I wondered what.”

“You’re settling in,” added Mellyora. “You’re coming to terms with life.”

“What terms?” asked Carlyon.

“It means that she likes things as they are.”

When I come back, they will know, I thought.

As soon as luncheon was over I put on the lavender silk and dressed my hair very carefully, using the Spanish comb. That added to my height and made me look regal — a worthy chatelaine of the Abbas. I wanted him to be proud of me. I couldn’t wear the bonnet because of the comb, so I put on my cloak which adequately covered my gown and was ready. I was early. I must wait, so I sat by the window and looked out to where I could just see the tower of the Abbas through the trees and I knew that it was where I wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world — there with Kim and the future.

Granny was right; I had learned my lesson. To be in love was the very meaning of existence. And I was in love — not with a house this time, but with a man. If Kim had said he wanted to wander round the world, if he had said that he wanted me to return with him to Australia, I should have done so … willingly. I should have felt a nostalgia for the Abbas all through my life, but I should not have wanted to return to it without my family.

But there was no need to think of that. Life was offering me perfection in Kim
and
the Abbas.

At last I could leave. It was a mild afternoon and an autumnal sun made the feathery branches of the firs glisten. Being in love heightened the senses, every one. Never had the earth seemed to offer so much — the rich scent of pines, grass and damp soil; the warmth of the sun was caressing, so was the faint southwest breeze which seemed to carry exotic smells from over the sea. I was in love with life that afternoon as I never had been before.