Midsummer's Eve (38 page)

I couldn’t help laughing. “I don’t think it is going to be quite as simple as that.”

He looked at me earnestly. “But it will … if they make it so. You see what I’m getting at. Now this young man in Cornwall—you’ve known him all your life. I remember hearing that as a child you were his devoted slave. And then you grew up and were in love with him. Yes, you are. Don’t think you can deceive me. And you turn him down on some whim … just because, my dear, you are immersed in your tragedy and not making the effort to grow away from it. You allow yourself to suspect he is marrying you for your possessions. He wants Cador. So? He would be a foolish young man if he did not. Of course, he wants Cador; and for that very reason he will make a good thing of it. If he didn’t want Cador I should have a very poor opinion of him. How could he help you manage it satisfactorily if he didn’t feel delighted in having a share in it?”

“You have a certain way of reasoning …”

“I have a realistic way of reasoning. You want to feel that he would marry you if you were a little match seller. But you are not a match seller and if you were it is hardly likely that you would have met this young man. No. He wants to marry you. He loves you but that need not stop his loving Cador as well. Get rid of those romantic notions. Look at life as it really is … as I always have. And you see me as I am. I have ridden the storms, haven’t I? That is what you have to do in life, believe me.”

If it were only Cador that stood between us he might be right. But my thoughts went back to that Midsummer’s Eve.

I said: “When I was a child, I thought Rolf the most wonderful person on earth … at least one of them. He shared that honour with my father. Red-letter days were when he came to Cador which he did often with his father. Then something happened. It was Midsummer’s Eve in Cornwall. They celebrate it there with old customs going back to pre-Christian days. There was a woman who lived in the woods. People said she was a witch. On Midsummer’s Eve they burned down her house. There was one there … the leader in a kind of Druid’s robe. I believe it was Rolf because I had seen that robe in his house. It changed everything between us. It occurred to me that I did not know him at all. I felt I could not trust anyone any more, not even Rolf. And early in the morning of the day which was to have been our wedding day, I realized that it was Cador he wanted … and I just could not marry him.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“On the ship when we were coming home we had talked. He said he wasn’t there. He was in Bodmin.”

“Well?”

“I couldn’t quite believe him. Oh, I did at the time … but later I had so many doubts. And then I thought that he was marrying me for Cador.”

“And all because of that escapade.”

“Escapade! It was such cruelty as I had never seen before. If my father had been there he would have put a stop to it.”

“Let’s suppose the worst: that he lied about this. He was young. Young men have high spirits. Perhaps they drink a little too much. They do foolish things. They do things they regret afterwards. You must understand this. You have to forgive the sins of youth.”

“This was no ordinary little peccadillo. You should have seen that woman’s face … the terrible things they did to her.”

“People get carried away. He is a man now … and you are in love with him. The best thing you can do is marry him. I am sure the man who is looking after the place is good. He must be for your father was prepared to leave him in charge while he was away. But I daresay he had means of knowing what was going on and he would have been advised from afar and gone home if it had been necessary. The best manager in the country needs a guiding hand. You have to give that. It’s a great responsibility … all those tenants, people who depend on Cador. You’ve got to do your duty by the land; you have to make sure that all goes well with what your father and his forebears have built up. And Rolf is the man to help you. Go back and marry him if he’ll have you after what you did to him. He will … for Cador’s sake.”

“Uncle Peter,” I said, “you are the most amazing of men. I never thought I should be talking to
you
like this.”

“Sinners are far more lenient than saints. That’s another lesson you’ll have to learn. I know all the temptations, good people don’t. Therefore I understand how easy it is to fall into them. Take my advice. Go back. Talk to him. Tell him of your feelings … as you’ve talked to me. I’d like to see you settled. I tell you, I feel a responsibility towards you because I was fond of your mother. I’m fond of you, too.”

He smiled and lifted his glass.

“To the success of Annora. May everything that is good come to her. And let me tell you that if she makes up her mind to get it, she will. That’s a law of nature. Think about what we’ve said. And now I am going to take you back because I have a meeting to attend.”

I said: “Thank you, Uncle Peter. You have helped me quite a lot.”

He had. I felt my spirits rise. Had I attached too much importance to that Midsummer’s Eve? I tried to shut out the memory of the stricken face of that old woman and the flames rioting among the thatch of her cottage.

A youthful escapade? No, I could not think of it as that. It had been a cruel and vicious act and only a man who had cruelty in him could have taken part in such a deed. But he had not been there. I must believe him.

And Cador? Uncle Peter was right. Of course he loved Cador. He always had.

I was in love with Rolf. I always had been. Hadn’t I compared others with him? Joe. Gregory Donnelly. And always I had thought, But they are not Rolf. Yet I had turned my back on him. I thought of the last time I had seen him—cool, detached, almost as though he disliked me. It was natural that he should after what I had done.

Suppose I went back. Suppose I told him how I had felt. Suppose we talked—not just lightly but in detail about that Midsummer’s Eve and his love for Cador—talked frankly as, surprisingly, I had been able to talk to Uncle Peter.

Helena was growing towards some sort of contentment. I had gone with her and Aunt Amaryllis to see the little house in Westminster. It was charming and I could see that Helena liked it. There were plans in her mind as she talked quite animatedly for her about the aspect of the dining room and the drawing room, and how her eyes shone as she planned what should be the nursery.

“Jonnie would love to play in that,” said Aunt Amaryllis, beaming. It was all turning out as she would have wished, and her magnificent husband was going to buy this house for Helena and her husband. Moreover Uncle Peter was interested in Matthew’s prospects and that meant he was going to make a great career for his son-in-law.

It was only when she turned to me that Aunt Amaryllis’s eyes were clouded. She would be remembering my mother, my tragic loss, my desertion of my bridegroom almost at the altar.

And again I thought: Uncle Peter is right. I have allowed myself to brood, to become cynical, to look for a mercenary motive behind people’s actions. I remembered my mother’s saying that good things would always come to Amaryllis because she just simply failed to see what was not good.

I think there must have been some truth in that.

Now Aunt Amaryllis had both her children happily settled. The irritations which had beset them a short while ago when people who were jealous of Peter had tried to pull him down, were over. Nobody could ruin Peter however virulently they attacked him. Everyone must see what a magnificent man he was.

I thought of Peter choosing Amaryllis. He had said he might have married my mother. I doubted she would have had him, but if she had, Peter’s marriage would have been stormy. He had chosen Amaryllis because she was just the wife he needed. What husband wouldn’t want a wife who thought him perfect in every way? How rare such women would be. It was typical of Uncle Peter that he had one.

What he had said to me was true. Rolf and I belonged together. And Cador belonged to us.

While I was looking over the house with Helena and Aunt Amaryllis I said to myself: Go back. See Rolf. Ask his forgiveness for what I have done and talk … talk frankly. Tell him exactly what I feel.

The thought lifted my spirits considerably.

When I mentioned to Helena that I had decided to go back to Cornwall very soon, she was regretful, but she did not cling to me and beg me to stay as once she would have done. That was an indication of the change in her life. She was getting closer to Matthew. She was eager to get to the new house. She discussed how she would entertain there with her mother and was even drawing up lists of people who should be invited.

One morning, a few days after my luncheon with Uncle Peter I went downstairs and found two letters waiting for me. Both came from Cornwall. One was from Rolf; the other from Yorke, Tamblin and Company, the lawyers who had taken over the practice when Rolf’s father had given up.

I hesitated over them and deliberately picked up the lawyers’ letter first.

Dear Miss Cadorson,

A most extraordinary and alarming matter has arisen. It is difficult to explain by letter, but I think you should return to Cador immediately.

I assure you that it is of the utmost importance that you come without delay.

Your obedient servant,

James Tamblin

I was puzzled. To what could he be referring and why so mysterious.

I took up Rolf’s letter.

“My dear Annora.” I felt floods of relief sweep over me. At least he called me his dear Annora, so he could not hate and despise me as much as I had feared.

This is a most extraordinary matter. I really cannot believe it is true. James Tamblin, I know, is writing to you. I do think it is imperative that you should be here. It is a matter which will have to have thorough investigation, as you will agree …

How can I, I thought, when I don’t know what it is?

I am afraid I was a little bewildered at our last meeting and you did not find me very sympathetic. Annora, we have to forget that. It’s over. I still don’t understand it, but I am trying to put it behind me.

I want you to know that if you need my help over this I am here to be of assistance. Remember, I did study law to a certain extent. So you must call on me at any time you think I might be of use.

Don’t worry. We will go on as though nothing has happened. I am sure this ridiculous claim will be proved to be false.

I hope we can be, as we always were, good friends.

Yours,

Rolf

I read both letters again. They were maddeningly obscure. What could have happened? I must know. I would return to Cornwall without delay.

There was consternation throughout the household when I produced the solicitors’ letter. Everyone was mystified.

“You see,” I said, “that I must leave immediately.”

They all realized that. Uncle Peter said I should not travel alone. He would have come with me but for important business which he could not possibly fail to attend to. He was going to send Mrs. Eggham to travel with Eggham and me. Eggham was one of the grooms.

“It’s a pity they haven’t done better with the railways,” he said. “It’s about fifteen years since there was all that fuss about a train that went from Stockton to Darlington. Of course we were all sceptical then, and after that we began to expect wonders. And now if you go from London to Birmingham you have to break your journey and take the coach. The carriage will be comfortable and Mrs. Eggham is a pleasant woman. When do you propose to leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

So I said goodbye to them and this time, although Helena expressed her sorrow at my departure she did not beg to come with me.

I set out with the Egghams who were to stay a night or two at Cador and then return to London.

The journey was uneventful and in due course I arrived at Cador. It was always an emotional moment to catch sight of those towers—and perhaps particularly so now that they belonged to me.

It was early evening when we arrived. They had all been expecting me. Isaacs was in the hall with Mrs. Penlock and a number of the servants. Bob Carter was there also.

I was conscious of the suppressed excitement and I knew the cause. They were all aware that something momentous was happening.

“Mr. Tamblin told us you’d be coming,” said Mrs. Penlock. “We wasn’t quite sure which day but your bed is aired and everything’s ready.”

“I had a rather disturbing letter from Mr. Tamblin,” I said, looking from Isaacs to Mrs. Penlock. “Have you any idea what is wrong?”

They shook their heads. “We just know the lawyer wanted to see you, Miss Cadorson,” said Isaacs.

“I thought something was wrong with the house. The roof … or something like that.”

“The roof is in good order,” said Bob Carter. “I’d have seen to that.”

“So’s everything else as far as we do know,” added Mrs. Penlock.

“By the way, Mr. and Mrs. Eggham will want a room. They’ll want to eat, too.”

“We reckoned as you’d have someone with you, Miss Cadorson,” said Isaacs.

“And we’m prepared,” added Mrs. Penlock.

“They will probably stay for two nights.”

“I’ll have something on the table within the hour,” said Mrs. Penlock.

I retired early. Travelling was so exhausting. I decided to go along to the lawyer first thing in the morning.

I rose early, breakfasted and prepared to leave the house. I rode down to the town. I knew the Yorke, Tamblin offices well for they had once been Rolf’s father’s.

Mr. Tamblin was obviously relieved to see me.

“Come into the office, Miss Cadorson,” he said. “How glad I am that you are here. This is a most disturbing matter. Would you care for a glass of Madeira wine … or sherry?”

“No, thank you. I’d rather hear what is wrong.”

“Mind you, nothing is certain, but this woman could prove that she is right and that could mean you would be dispossessed of everything … or almost everything.”

“Please tell me the worst.”

“A woman has arrived here. She is now staying at the Anglers’ Inn. She is laying claim to Cador.”