Legend of the Seventh Virgin (9 page)

Mellyora and I were together a great deal now that I was a fit companion for her. I imitated her in lots of ways — walking, speaking, remaining still when I spoke, keeping my voice low, holding in my temper, being cold instead of hot. It was a fascinating study. Mrs. Yeo had ceased to grumble; Bess and Kit had ceased to marvel; Belter and Billy Toms no longer called out when I passed; they even called me Miss. And even Miss Kellow was polite to me. I had no duties in the kitchen at all; my task was to look after Mellyora’s clothes, do her hair, walk with her, read with her and to her, talk to her. The life of a lady! I assured myself. And it was now two years since I had put myself up for hire at Trelinket Fair.

But I had much to achieve. I was always a little downcast when Mellyora received invitations and went off on visits. Sometimes Miss Kellow accompanied her, sometimes her father; I never did. None of those invitations, naturally, was extended to Mellyora’s maid, companion, whatever one liked to call her.

She often went to call at the doctor’s house with her father; on very rare occasions she went to the Abbas; she never went to the Dower House because, as she explained to me, Kim’s father was a sea captain and he was rarely at home, and during the vacation Kim wasn’t expected to entertain; but when she went to the Abbas she often found him there, because he was a friend of Justin’s.

After Mellyora returned from a visit to the Abbas she was always subdued and I guessed that the place meant something to her, too — either that or the people. I could see reason in this. It must be wonderful to go boldly into the Abbas as a guest. One day that would happen to me. I was sure of it.

One Easter Sunday I learned more about Mellyora than I had ever known before. Sundays were naturally busy days at the parsonage because of all the church services. The sound of bells went on for most of the day and since we were so near they appeared to be right in the house.

I always went to morning service which I enjoyed, chiefly I have to admit because I would be wearing one of Mellyora’s straw hats and one of her gowns; and sitting in the parsonage’s pew I felt grand and important. I loved the music, too, which always put me in a state of exultation and I liked to praise and give thanks to God who made dreams come true. The sermons I found dull for the Reverend Charles was not an inspired speaker and when, during them, I studied the congregation, my eyes invariably came to rest on the Abbas pews.

These were at the side of the church — set apart from the rest. There were usually quite a number of servants from the house in church. The front row where the family sat was almost always empty.

Immediately behind the Abbas pew were the lovely glass windows said to be some of the best in Cornwall — blue, red, green and mauve glinting in sunshine; they were exquisite and had been given to the church by a St. Larnston a hundred or more years before; on the two walls on either side of the pews were memorials dedicated to past St. Larnstons. Even in church one had the impression that the St. Larnstons owned it like everything else.

The whole family was in the pew this day. I suppose because it was Easter. There was Sir Justin, whose face seemed more purple — just as the parson’s seemed more yellow — every time I saw him; there was his wife, Lady St. Larnston, tall with a long, somewhat hooked nose, very imperious and arrogant-looking; and the two sons, Justin and Johnny, who hadn’t changed a great deal since that day I had encountered them in the walled garden. Justin looked cold and calm; he was more like his mother than Johnny was. Johnny was short compared with his brother, and lacked Justin’s dignity; his eyes kept roaming round the church as though he were looking for someone.

I loved the Easter service and the flowers which decorated the altar; I loved the joyous singing of “Hosanna.” I felt I knew what it must be like to be risen from the dead; while, during the sermon I studied the occupants of the Abbas pews, I was thinking of Sir Justin’s father fancying Granny and how she went to him in secret for Pedro’s sake. I wondered what I should have done in Granny’s place.

Then I was aware that beside me, Mellyora was also studying the Abbas pew; her expression was rapt and completely absorbed — and she was looking straight at Justin St. Larnston. There was a sheen of pleasure on her face and she looked prettier than I had ever seen her look before. She is fifteen, I said to myself, old enough to be in love, and she’s in love with young Justin St. Larnston.

There seemed to be no end to what I was discovering about Mellyora. I must find out more. I must make her talk about Justin.

I kept my eyes on the St. Larnston family and before the service was over I knew who Johnny was looking for. Hetty Pengaster! Mellyora and Justin — that was understandable. But Johnny and Hetty Pengaster!

That afternoon the sun shone warmly for the time of the year and Mellyora had a fancy to go out of doors. We put on big shady hats because Mellyora said we mustn’t let the sun spoil our complexions. Her fair one was very susceptible to sunshine and she freckled easily; my olive skin seemed indifferent; all the same I liked to put on a shady hat because it was what ladies did.

Mellyora stood in a solemn mood and I wondered whether it had anything to do with seeing Justin in church that morning. He must be twenty-two, I thought, which would be about seven years older than she is. To him she would seem only a child. I was becoming worldly wise and I wondered whether it would be considered fitting for a future Sir Justin St. Larnston to marry a parson’s daughter.

I thought she was going to confide in me when she said, “I want to tell you something this afternoon, Kerensa.”

She led the way on our walk as she often did; she had a way of reminding one now and then that she was the mistress, and I didn’t forget that I owed my present contentment to her.

I was surprised when she led the way across the parsonage lawn to a hedge which divided the garden from the churchyard. There was a gap in this hedge and we passed through it.

She turned to smile at me. “Oh, Kerensa,” she said, “it
is
good to be able to go out with you instead of Miss Kellow. She is rather prim, don’t you think?”

“She has her job to do.” Strange, how I stood up for the woman when she wasn’t there.

“Oh, I know. Poor old Kelly! But, Kerensa, you serve as a chaperone. Don’t you think that’s amusing?”

I agreed.

“Now if you had been my sister I suppose we should have been plagued by a chaperone.”

We picked our way over the gravestones towards the church.

“What were you going to tell me?” I asked.

“I want to show you something first. How long have you been in St. Larnston, Kerensa?”

“I came when I was about eight years old.”

“You’re fifteen now, so it must have been seven years ago. You wouldn’t have heard. It’s ten years since it happened.”

She led me round to the side of the church where one or two more recent headstones rose from the ground, and standing before one as though reading the inscription she beckoned me over. “Read it,” she said.

“Mary Anna Martin,” I read, “thirty-eight years. In the midst of life we are in death.”

“That was my mother. She was buried here ten years ago. Now read the name below.”

“Kerensa Martin. Kerensa!”

She nodded, smiling at me with a satisfied expression.

“Kerensa! I love your name. I loved it the moment I heard it. Do you remember? You were in the wall. You said ‘It’s not an “it”. It’s Miss Kerensa Carlee.’ It’s strange how you can recall days and days in one little minute. I remembered when you said that. This Kerensa Martin was my sister. You see, it says ‘aged three weeks and two days’; and the date. It’s the same as the one above. Some of those gravestones have little stories to tell, don’t they, if you go round reading them.”

“So your mother died when Kerensa was born?”

Mellyora nodded. “I wanted a sister. I was five years old and it seemed as if I waited for her for years. When she was born I was so excited. I thought we could play together right away. Then they told me I had to wait until she was grown up. I remember how I kept running to my father and saying: ‘I’ve waited. Is she big enough to play yet?’ I made plans for Kerensa. I knew she was going to be Kerensa even before she was born. My father wanted a Cornish name for her and he said that was a beautiful name because it meant peace and love which, he said, were the best things in the world. My mother used to talk about her and she was certain she would have a girl. So we talked about Kerensa. It went wrong, you see. She died and my mother died, too; and everything was different then. Nurses, governesses, housekeepers … and what I had longed for was a sister. I wanted a sister more than anything in the world …”

“I see.”

“Well, that was why when I saw you standing there … and because your name was Kerensa. You see what I mean?”

“I thought it was because you were sorry for me.”

“I’m sorry for all the people on the hiring platform, but I couldn’t bring them home, could I? Papa is always worried about bills as it is.” She laughed. “I’m glad you came.”

I looked at the gravestone and thought of the chance which had given me all I wanted. It might have happened so differently. If that young Kerensa had lived … if her name hadn’t been Kerensa … where should I be now? I thought of Haggety’s little pig’s eyes, Mrs. Rolt’s thin mouth, Sir Justin’s purple complexion, and was overawed by this sequence of events called Chance.

We were closer than ever after our talk in the graveyard. Mellyora wanted to make believe that I was her sister. I was nothing loath. When I brushed her hair that night I started to talk about Justin St. Larnston.

“What do you think of him?” I said, and I saw the quick color in her cheeks.

“He’s handsome, I think.”

“More so than Johnny.”

“Oh … Johnny!” The tone was contemptuous.

“Does he talk to you much?”

“Who … Justin? He’s always kind when I go there, but he’s busy. He’s working. He’ll graduate this year and then he’ll be home all the time.”

She was smiling secretly, thinking of the future when Justin would be home all the time. Riding through the country one would encounter him; when she called with her father he would be there.

“You like him?” I said.

She nodded and smiled.

“Better than … Kim?” I ventured.

“Kim? Oh, he’s wild!” She wrinkled her nose. “I like Kim. But Justin, he’s like a … knight. Sir Galahad or Sir Launcelot. Kim is not like that.”

I thought of Kim’s carrying Joe through the woods and to our cottage that night. I did not believe Justin would have done that for me. I thought of Kim’s lying to Mellyora about the boy who had fallen off the tree.

Mellyora and I were like sisters; we were going to share secrets, adventures, our whole lives. She might prefer Justin St. Larnston. But Kim would be my knight.

Miss Kellow had one of her bouts of neuralgia, and Mellyora, who was always sympathetic towards the sick, insisted on her lying down. She herself drew the curtains and gave Mrs. Yeo orders that she was not to be disturbed until four o’clock when tea was to be taken to her.

Having looked after Miss Kellow, Mellyora sent for me and said that she fancied a ride. My eyes sparkled because naturally she could not go unaccompanied and I was sure she would prefer my company to Belter’s.

Mellyora mounted her pony and I was on Cherry who was used for the pony cart. I hoped I should be seen by some of the St. Larnston people as I rode through the village, particularly Hetty Pengaster whom I had noticed more since I was aware of Johnny St. Larnston’s interest in her.

However, we were only seen by a few children who stood aside as we passed; the boys pulled their forelocks and the girls curtsied — a fact which pleased me.

In a short time we were on the moor and the beauty of the scenery took my breath away. It was awe-inspiring. There was no sign of any dwelling, nothing but moor and sky and the tors which here and there rose up from the moorlands. The scene could, I knew, be somber in shadow; on this day it was sparkling, and as the sun caught the little rivulets, which here and there tumbled over the boulders, it turned them to silver; and we could see the moisture on the grass shining like diamonds.