Garth of Tregillis (5 page)

She regarded me warily for a moment, then said smugly, ‘You won’t tell because I can make things very uncomfortable for you if you do. That’s why I let you know. Before I was sent to school I got rid of all the governesses Uncle Garth engaged. In the end they were glad to go, I can tell you,’ she added gleefully, ‘and you will be too if you sneak on me.’

‘But perhaps you won’t find it so easy to get rid of me,’ I said dryly. ‘After all, your uncle didn’t engage me to teach you.’

She regarded herself silently in the long mirror, then pirouetted slowly and frowned thoughtfully at her reflection. ‘No, that’s true,’ she conceded. ‘You’re for some horrid French boy who’s coming soon. But I’ve nothing much to do on my holidays, so I’ll have lessons with you —not that I mean to
learn
anything, of course—but I’ll teach him to say naughty words in English, like

“damn”.’ She giggled delightedly at the idea. ‘Of course if he’s a namby-pamby, I’ll get rid of him too,’ she added with conviction.

‘You’ll have me to deal with, remember!’ I said shortly.

‘But you won’t be with him all the time and I can think of all sorts of things I could do.’ Her eyes grew dreamy. ‘I’m a witch, you know. I shall lay a curse on him and he’ll probably wilt away bit by bit.’

I regarded her in silence. There was something strange and fey about the child and it wasn’t hard to credit Mrs. Kinnefer’s judgement that she was bewitched. However, I told myself dryly, the fact that I was in Cornwall mustn’t make me indulge in such fantasies. It was more probable, as Paul said, that the child was simply looking for notice. But what was wrong with her life that she should have this craving for attention?

‘So Mr. Seaton is your uncle.’

She nodded. ‘When Mummy and Daddy had to go to Africa they decided to leave me with Uncle Garth. I like him better than anyone else in the whole world.’ She frowned balefully. ‘I expect you think he’ll marry you. All the governesses who come here are crazy about him and want to marry him.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said crisply. ‘It’s obvious you suffer from too much imagination. Why on earth should all the governesses fall in love with your uncle? You’ve put him on a pedestal, obviously. I’m afraid there are few people in the world who inspire such devotion.’

She looked interested. ‘Then you think he’s got feet of clay?’

‘I said no such thing,’ I replied sharply. It was foolish to have spoken to the child as though she were an adult. I was uncomfortably aware she might make capital of my remark.

She giggled and changed the subject abruptly. ‘The maids got hysterics the other night. It was so funny to see them rushing out of their rooms screaming their heads off when I went around wailing horribly and clanking some rusty old chains I found in the stables. They told Mrs. Kinnefer the next day that they were all leaving and she was frightfully upset because she knew Uncle Garth would be furious when he came back and found the staff gone. And she can’t really prove anything, you know. She didn’t actually see me do it. In the end the servants agreed to stay, which was a pity, really. Do you mind if I finish off your pudding?’ she continued.

A little startled at the change in conversation, I said quickly,

‘No, of course not. Take it if you wish.’

She crossed to the tray and helped herself to the portion I had left, for Mrs. Kinnefer believed in giving gargantuan helpings and I had been unable to finish it.

She finished off the pudding in silence and then licked the spoon thoughtfully. ‘Don’t you like date pudding?’ Her pale eyes were inquisitive.

I hesitated and she said with the contempt that was habitual with her, ‘Oh, you needn’t be afraid I’ll tell Mrs. Kinnefer and hurt her precious feelings. I just wanted to know as a matter of interest.’

‘You sound like Rosa Dartle,’ I smiled.

She looked at me suspiciously. ‘Who’s Rosa Dartle?’

‘She’s a character in one of Dickens’ novels.’

‘Uncle Garth has some of his books in the library, but they’re boring and old-fashioned—the kind of thing Cousin Eunice reads.’

‘Cousin Eunice?’ I knew I shouldn’t have asked, of course, but I was anxious to know the set-up at Tregillis as soon as possible.

She looked at me coldly. ‘I shan’t tell you any more. You can find out for yourself, so there.’ She chased the last crumb of pudding round the dish and then replaced it on the tray. ‘I expect that when this French boy comes we’ll be having snails for lunch.’

As she saw my look of revulsion she said with interest, ‘Don’t you like snails?’

‘Not particularly,’ I admitted.

‘Well, I shouldn’t mind a bit,’ she said triumphantly, ‘but then I’m a witch, as I told you, and of course witches eat the most peculiar things.’ She frowned. ‘Why do you suppose Uncle Garth is bringing a French boy here?’ It was obvious she found the prospect genuinely distasteful.

I smiled. ‘How should I know?’

She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He won’t be here for long. I’ll get rid of him soon enough. I’m going now,’ she announced, and then added with incongruous politeness, ‘Shall I shut the panel before I go?’

‘Yes, I think you’d better,’ I said primly. ‘I imagine it would be rather draughty with it open.’

She giggled delightedly. ‘Actually, no, it isn’t. In fact it’s quite cosy in the passage. Would you like to try?’

I hesitated, then saw the sly look in the glassy eyes. What hideous tricks would the wretched child get up to should I avail myself on her invitation?’No, thanks,’ I declined. ‘I don’t imagine I should find it at all comfortable.’

She sighed. ‘Oh, very well, but I’ll show you how it works if you like.’

I was too curious to resist this invitation. I followed her across the room and watched as she pressed on the bevelled sides of the panelling. Silently the square of wood moved forward. ‘I oiled it so that it wouldn’t squeak,’ she informed me seriously. ‘Actually I’d go back that way again, only I heard one of the maids begin polishing the gallery.’

‘And does the gallery panel work on the same system?’ I asked her.

She appeared pleased at my interest. ‘Yes, it’s just the same. It’s under a portrait of a horrid, prissy-looking lady with two dogs, with bulgy eyes. So if ever you feel like coming along to your room that way, you may do so,’ she conceded graciously.

‘No, thanks,’ I said, ‘I think I’d prefer the more orthodox method.’

‘Oh, very well,’ she shrugged, but I got the impression that she was disappointed at my lack of enthusiasm.

As soon as she was gone I pulled the heavy Portuguese bridal chest along the floor and placed it firmly against the panel. Well, at least, I thought with satisfaction, that would put a stop to the wretched child’s tricks as far as I was concerned, for I knew it would take more strength than her stick-like arms had to push away the iron-bound chest.

That night, as I lay in the great four-poster with the windows open I could hear the sound of the sea as it dashed against the boulders in the cove. On the following day I must investigate my surroundings, I decided; if I was to have a few days free before taking up my duties I would spend them exploring Tregillis, getting myself acclimatised and trying to find out as much as possible concerning Giles Seaton, Tregillis’s new master.

ON the following day I got up early and restored the chest to its original position. The servants might discuss the fact that I, a newcomer, had rearranged the furniture.

Something had happened the previous night that had kept me wakeful and restless. It had happened soon after Melinda had departed, for after I had moved the chest into position I saw that my arms and hands were grimy from dust that had gathered in the wrought-iron binding. Evidently Mrs. Kinnefer’s eagle eye had missed these signs of neglect on the part of her staff. I had decided it was time for the belated freshen-up that Mrs. Kinnefer had spoken of and had taken my sponge-bag and gone into the corridor.

But as I had wandered along past what seemed to me a vast number of closed doors I had realized that I hadn’t the smallest idea where the nearest bathroom was, and the house appeared even larger than it did from outside. Deadly silence seemed to hover over the long deserted corridors so that I had felt as if I were alone in a vast, still world. What lay behind those closed doors? I had wondered. What ancient secrets did the old house harbour during its hundreds of years? It had seen generations come and go; balls and sieges, misery and joy. It was not hard to believe that it could be haunted.

It was as I was passing a narrow dark passage that lay off the main corridor that I had got the fright that made me sleepless and nervous for the rest of the night. It was a short narrow passage that I was to learn later led to an unused staircase. I had been almost past it when I felt a bony hand grasp my arm. I gave a loud scream of alarm, for a tall, angular woman stood in the shadows, grasping me in a vice-like grip.

She clicked her tongue. ‘Really, girl, must you kick up such a racket? Anyone would think you were being murdered, or at least had seen a ghost.’

‘I thought you were one,’ I had said at last, laughing shakily.

‘Then you’re a fool,’ she had replied shortly. ‘Although, if I did hold with such superstitious nonsense, I’d believe that poor Giles was wandering around Tregillis looking for justice.’ She had moved forward into the corridor still holding me firmly and I saw she was a tall, ungainly woman, her grey hair chopped roughly in an untidy bob. Her large-boned figure was draped in an unbecoming cardigan and tweed skirt. She was remarkably plain with features that seemed too big and irregular and she gave the impression of glorying in her ugliness and deliberately accentuating it by the drabness of her clothes.

‘You’re the new governess, aren’t you?’ she asked abruptly. ‘I saw you arriving: my room overlooks the front of the house.’

I had nodded. ‘I’m to be tutor to a French child.’

‘Tutor—governess! What odds does it make?’ she said irritably.

I had smiled shakily. ‘Well, governess sounds so dismal—don’t you agree?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I agree. You see, I was a governess myself for years. Then Giles offered me a home here. It was like heaven to get my freedom again.’

‘You must be Cousin Eunice,’ I had said with a feeling of discovery.

She nodded, and said with bitter derision, ‘Yes, I’m poor dear Cousin Eunice who’s a bit odd and lives in Tregillis like a mouse in the wainscoting. Although actually I’m not a cousin—just a far-out relation of poor Giles. But he was such a good, wonderful person. I owe him everything, for even now that he’s dead Garth won’t fling me out. He daren’t. I know too much,’ she had added, then stared frowningly ahead, and I had realized that for the moment she had forgotten my presence.

Gently I had eased my arm from her claw-like grasp.

Hastily she withdrew her hand. ‘Sorry,’ she said abruptly, ‘but at first I thought it was that little fiend Melinda. If I’d found her sneaking around I intended to box her ears. She’d play havoc with my work if she could lay hands on it.’

‘Your work?’

She nodded. ‘I’m writing a history of the Seaton family. It’s to be a sort of posthumous tribute to poor Giles.’ Then, almost wistfully, she had added, ‘You wouldn’t care to look at it, would you?’

I had hesitated, then as I saw her gaze fixed on me eagerly, nodded. There must be so few who would bear with her oddities.

‘Yes, I’d like to, thanks—’ I hesitated, not knowing what to call her.

‘You must call me Eunice,’ she had said. ‘Everyone else does,’

and she had led the way along the narrow passage and up a flight of twisting uncarpeted stairs.

The room she led me into had been a sort of attic which I saw she had converted into a makeshift study. Piles of books lay on the floor and at a small table at the window there was a bundle of manuscript. ‘I’m at the Civil War now,’ she had told me.

‘Oh yes, Paul Newsom was explaining to me how the S’s were reversed to show Stuart sympathy.’

‘Paul Newsom! A nice boy, but much deeper than he appears!

Don’t be deceived by that boyish air of his. I shouldn’t be surprised, if all were known, that there is not much love lost between himself and Garth. But perhaps I’m just being suspicious.’ While she spoke she crossed to the table at the window and I had gazed with admiration at the page she handed me: a delicate pen-and-ink drawing of the house and avenue was placed at the top. I turned over the pages, covered with her straight, incisive handwriting. Each chapter was headed by a marvellously well-executed drawing: one I guessed to be of the cove, each rock outlined and amazingly detailed; another with an equally detailed drawing of the St. Piran that stood on the piers of the entrance gate.

Although I didn’t know much about art I knew enough to realize that these were not the work of a mere dabbler. ‘Your drawings are beautiful,’ I said enthusiastically.

She flushed with pleasure. ‘You like them!’

‘Oh yes, very much, I think they’re wonderful.’

‘As a girl I studied art in France, but ours was the poor branch of the family and I had to give up before I had completed my studies.’

‘What a pity,’ I said. ‘You’d have been famous if you had been able to continue. I feel sure of that,’ I had added enthusiastically.