Виктория Холт - Menfreya in the Morning

“Green’s unlucky, though,” said Fanny grimly. “I’m surprised at Miss Gwennan choosing green.”

“I’m not,” I said.

That day was like many another. I rode with Bevil, Harry and Gwennan in the morning. Gwennan was a little absent-minded, and I guessed her thoughts were with the departing company. I had no chance of being alone with Bevil, for the four of us were together all that morning.

During the rest of the day Gwennan seemed to avoid me, and I guessed she wanted to be alone to think seriously of her future.

There was a card party at the Leverets that evening. We played whist rather solemnly and left at ten o’clock. I thought Gwennan looked remote; I spoke to her once or twice, and she did not answer me. I guessed she was picturing the company packing their belongings and moving on to the next town. Another little episode over. Thank goodness, I thought, that there is no time for any more before the wedding.

I slept well, and hi the morning Fanny came in as usual to draw my curtains and bring my hot water.

“Another lovely day,” she said, “a bit misty, though. Pengelly says it’s a heat haze. It was really thick first thing this morning!”

I went to the window and looked out at the sea.

Another week or so and I should be back in London, and Aunt Clarissa would descend upon me for the purpose of bringing me out.

I did not want the time to pass. I wanted to catch each moment and imprison it.

We would ride that morning—Bevil, Gwennan and I— leaving the stables together and riding over to Chough Towers, where Harry would be waiting impatiently for us.

I went down to breakfast. Sir Endelion and Lady Menfrey were at the table and greeted me affectionately.

Lady Menfrey said that Bevil had already breakfasted, but Gwennan had not been down yet We talked about the weather and the wedding and afterwards I strolled out to the stables.

It was an hour or so later when I saw Bevil. He said, “Are we riding this morning?”

“I hope so.”

“Well, where’s.Gwennan?”

“I haven’t seen her,”

“I don’t think she’s up yet Go up to her room and tell her to hurry.”

I went into the house and seeing Dinah said: “Miss Gwennan is late this morning.”

“She said she would ring when she wanted me.”

“When did she say that?”

“Last night”

“So you haven’t been up yet?” My voice had risen to a high pitch as it did when I was apprehensive.

“No, Miss, seeing as she told me not”

As I took the stairs two at a time, I kept seeing her face as it had been yesterday … resigned. She had run away. I knew it before I opened the door and saw the unslept-in bed, the envelopes propped on the dressing table. Trust Gwennan to do it in the melodramatic way.

I went to the dressing table. There were three letters. One for her parents, one for Harry, and one for me.

My fingers were shaking as I slit the envelope addressed to me and read:

“Dear Harriet, I’ve done it It was the only way. I just could not stay. I’ve gone with Benedict. We’re going to be married and I might go on the stage with him. Do try to make them understand. Particularly Harry. I couldn’t help it It was one of those things that had to be. This is different from anything else that ever happened to me. Harriet, we shall always be friends, no matter what happens. Don’t forget and try to make them understand. Gwennan.”

I felt too numb to move. I heard the sound of laughter from the kitchen. I heard Bevil shouting to one of the grooms. All around me for a few more minutes life was going on as usual, but soon that would be changed.

I picked up the other two letters and ran from the room.

“Bevil,” I called, as I ran out of the house into the sunshine. “Quickly. Come here.”

He came running. “What on earth …”

I held up the letters. “She’s gone, Bevil, There’s one for me. She’s run away with Benedict Bellairs.”

“What? Who?”

I had forgotten, of course. There was no one in this house but myself—and possibly Dinah—who knew of the existence of this man.

“Gwennan has run away with an actor.”

He snatched my letter from me and read it.

“She’s going to marry … But what of Harry? What does it mean?”

I just stared at him, and I saw the realization spread across his face and amazement fade to anger. “You knew of this,” he accused me.

I nodded.

“Then why didn’t you say? You’ve let her do this. Well have to get her back.”

He strode into the house, and as, hurt and guilty, I followed him, I heard him shouting to his father.

Sir Endelion, followed by Lady Menfrey, appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“Gwennan’s run away with an actor,” cried Bevil.

“What?”

Bevil turned to me. “Harriet will tell you. She knows all about it”

”Harriet” It was a piteous cry from Lady Menfrey.

“I didn’t know she was going to run away,” I said.

“But the wedding …” began Lady Menfrey piteously.

“I’ll bring her back,” declared Bevil. “I’d better get going right away. What is the name of this man? Here ... open your letter.”

“Letter?” said Sir End el ion.

“Oh yes,” said Bevil furiously. “She did it in style … leaving envelopes for the family … and Harriet.”

I was stung because he was turning the anger he felt against Gwennan on me.

Sir Endelion said in a shaking voice, and I realized that I had never seen him so distraught: “I’m afraid I haven’t got my spectacles.”

Bevil took the envelope from him and read the note aloud. The contents were much the same as in mine. She loved Benedict Bellairs; she was running away with him because she could not go through with her marriage to Harry. She hoped they would forgive her and understand.

“Understand!” cried Bevil. “Yes, we understand that she is a selfish little fool. Forgive her! Wait till we get her back.”

I said: “It is, of course, a terrible thing to marry for love rather than for mercenary reasons.”

Bevil stared at me almost contemptuously, while Lady Menfrey moaned: “This is terrible … terrible …”

“Listen,” cut in Bevil curtly. “I’m going to Plymouth alone. Until I return, keep this dark. I’ll bring her back, and the affair need go no further. Keep it from the servants.”

“You won’t find the company at Plymouth,” I told him. They left yesterday.”

“What is the name of the company?”

I told Mm.

“I'll find where they’ve gone and I'll bring her back with me,” he said grimly.

“She won’t come.”

“We shall see about that”

He left for Plymouth, and I went with Sir Endelion and Lady Menfrey.to the library. They kept asking me questions. What did I know? What was this man like? They were reproachful. I had aided Gwennan in this deceit.

I felt wretched because of their disappointment in me, but most of all because of Bevil’s contempt. I had never seen him angry before, but I realized that he could be very angry indeed.

I told them about her visits to the theater; there was no point in holding anything back now.

“So you went with her when you were supposed to be visiting the dressmaker?”

I demanded angrily how they could have thought we need spend so much time with the dressmaker.

“Dinah should have warned us,” said Lady Menfrey.

“You know Gwennan. She forbade Dinah to.”

“Yes,” sighed Lady Menfrey. “We know Gwennan.”

Sir Endelion was surprisingly subdued, and I guessed he was thinking of the scandal in which he had been involved and which had resulted in his having to give up his seat in Parliament.

“And you, Harriet?”

“How could I tell tales about Gwennan?” I protested.

“But you see what has happened. When Bevil brings her back…”

“She won’t come.”

“He’ll make her. Bevil will get his way.”

“So will Gwennan.”

Lady Menfrey sighed, and I guessed that many times in her life she had been confronted by the wild, intractable natures of her family.

Harry Leveret came over because he wondered why Gwennan, Bevil and I had not ridden over to the Towers.

He had to be given the letter which Gwennan had written to him; even now I don’t like to think of his face as he read her words.

He was stricken. Poor Harry! He had loved Gwennan clearly.

That day was like a bad dream. Bevil came home alone, pale and angry. He had discovered that the company had moved to Paignton, whither he had been, and when he had unearthed them he had learned that Benedict Bellairs had left the company, his destination unknown.

There was nothing else to be done … just yet.

The Leverets had come over and Mrs. Leveret sat crying. I couldn’t bear to look at Harry, and every now and then one of them would fire questions at me. I couldn’t tell them any more than that I had been to the theater and that Gwennan had been friendly with an actor named Benedict Bellairs. I had to repeat it over and over again until I wanted to scream at them to let me go.

I felt wretched back in the London house. I had lost Gwennan, Bevil was furious with me, and before me stretched the dreary season through which Aunt Clarissa would guide me.

She sat in the drawing room facing Jenny, dressed in black, which was a reproach to Jenny that his sister had not yet cast off her mourning for her brother although his wife had seen fit to do so. She looked like a crow intimidating a little budgerigar.

Her voice was high and shrill. “Of course, this house would have been ideal. I remember the entertainments my brother used to give. I have seen these rooms decorated with exquisite flowers and even - a fishpond in the library.”

My stepmother fluttered her hands, but these helpless gestures, which had so enchanted my father, left Aunt Clarissa unmoved.

“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of using this house now ... a house which not so long ago suffered a bereavement!”

“AH houses must have had their bereavements at times,”

I put in, because I had to come to Jenny’s aid. “If no parties were ever given in houses where people had died, there would be few parties.”

“I was addressing your stepmother, Harriet.”

“Oh really, Aunt. I’m not a child to speak only when spoken to.”

“Until you are officially out, I look upon you as a child.”

“Then I shall be very pleased to have crossed the magical barrier.”

There is one thing I must talk to you about, Harriet. Your tongue is too tart.”

“I should only succeed in artificially sweetening it”

“This is absurd digression. I was saying that it is not possible to use this house, and I suggest that Harriet makes her home with me until the season is over.”

Jenny looked helplessly at me, I realized that it would have to be as Aunt Clarissa suggested.

Aunt Clarissa’s house was set back from the road; there were two gates at each end of a semicircular path which led to the front door. It was larger than our house in the London square, but much less elegant. Aunt Clarissa’s husband had not been as rich as my father—a fact which she had always resented and, I believe, continually pointed out to my poor uncle. He had died some five years ago after a long illness, and I had heard his death called “a happy release.” I could well believe it bad been.

Sylvia and Phyllis welcomed me into their home with contemptuous indulgence. I was no rival; in fact I would be a foil which would enhance their pink-and-white prettiness.

There was a whirl of activity in the house. Poor little Miss Glenister, the seamstress, was working in one of the attics, which was called the sewing room, from early morning until late at night I was sorry for her; she was harassed not only by my aunt but by my cousins; and it could be a major disaster if Miss Sylvia did not like the set of her sleeves, and Miss Phyllis, after deciding that she adored the coffee-colored lace on her blue velvet, suddenly decided that she hated it after all. Miss Glenister was the scapegoat, the whipping boy. Everything was blamed on her. Sometimes I wondered that she did not throw her pins and cottons at them and walk out of the house. But where to? To be employed by some other family who would exact the same duties and shower on her similar blame?

When she made something for me I always declared myself delighted with it, which wasn’t true; but I couldn’t bear to add to her troubles.

My cousins would put their hands to their lips to hide their smiles.