Виктория Холт - Bride of Pendorric

Polly laughed.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Sellick didn’t warn you, but she doesn’t care about telephoning the house, as you know.”

” I know,” said Roc. He turned to me. ” Are you ready to go?”

” Yes,” I said. ” Goodbye, Polly, and thank you for the coffee.”

” It’s been a pleasure,” said Polly.

She stood at the door smiling as we went out to the cars. Roc got into his, I into mine. I drove off and he followed me. Near that bridge where it was said Arthur fought his last fight against Sir Mordred, Roc drove ahead of me and pulled up. I heard the door of his car slam and he came to stand by mine. ” So you lied to me,” I said.

” And you saw fit to pry into matters which are no concern of yours.”

” Perhaps they are some concern of mine.”

” You are quite wrong if you think so.”

” Shouldn’t I be interested in my husband’s son?”

” I would never have believed you’d do anything so petty. I had no idea I’d married a spy.”

“And I can’t understand why you should have lied. I should have understood.”

” How good of you! You are of course extremely tolerant and forgiving, I’m sure.”

“Roc!”

He looked at me so coldly that I shrank from him. ” There’s really nothing more to be said, is there?”

” I think there is. There are things I want to know.”

” You’ll find out. Your spy system seems excellent.” He went to his car, and drove on towards Pendorric; and I followed him home.

Back at Pendorric, Roc only spoke to me when necessary. I knew that he was planning his trip to the north coast, but there was now no question of my going with him.

It was impossible to hide from the household that we had quarrelled, because neither of us was good enough at hiding our feelings; and I was sure they were all rather curious.

The next few days seemed unbearably long and I had not felt so wretched since the death of my father. Two days after that disastrous visit to Bedivere I went into the quadrangle and sat under the palm tree thinking ruefully that the summer was nearly over, and with it the happiness I had believed was mine. The sun was shining but I could see the spiders’ webs on the bushes, and beautiful as the Michaelmas daisies and chrysanthemums were they did underline the fact that winter was on the way. But because this was Cornwall, the roses were still blooming; and although the hydrangeas did not flower in such profusion, there were still some to brighten the quadrangle.

One of the twins must have seen me for she came out and began to walk unconcernedly towards the pond, humming as she came. ” Hallo,” she said. ” Mummy says we’re not to sit on the seats because they’re damp. We’ll catch our deaths if we do. So what about you?”

” I don’t think it’s really damp.”

” Everything’s damp. You might get pneumonia and die.” I knew this was Hyson, and it occurred to me that since our adventure in the vault her attitude towards me had changed; and perhaps not towards me only; it seemed that she herself had changed.

“It would be one way.. ” she said thoughtfully. ” One way of dying, you mean?”

Her face puckered suddenly. ” Don’t talk of dying,” she said. ” I don’t like it … much.”

” You’re becoming awfully sensitive. Hyson,” I commented. She looked thoughtfully up at the east windows as though watching for something.

“Are you expecting someone?” I asked.

She did not answer.

After a while she said: ” You must have been very glad that I was in the vault with you, Favel.”

” It was rather selfish of me, but I was.”

She came nearer to me and putting her hands on my knees, looked into my face. ” I was glad I was there too,” she said.

“Why? It wasn’t very pleasant and you were horribly scared.” She smiled her odd little smile. ” Yes, but there were two of us. That made a difference.”

She stepped back and put her lips in the position to suggest whistling.

” Can you whistle, Favel?”

” Not very well.”

” Nor can I. Lowella can.” She stopped, looking up at the east windows. ” There it is,” she said. It was the sound of the violin.

I stood up and caught Hyson’s wrist. ” Who is it?” I asked.

“You know, don’t you?”

” No, I don’t. But I’m going to find out.”

” It’s Barbarina.”

” You know Barbarina’s dead.”

” Oh Favel, don’t go in there. You know what it means. s> ” Hyson!

What do you know? Who is playing the violin? Who locked us in the vault? Do you know that? “

For the moment I thought I saw a madness in the child’s eyes, and it was not a pleasant sight. ” It’s Barbarina,” she whispered. ” Listen to her playing. She’s telling us she’s getting tired. She means she won’t wait much longer.”

I shook her a little because I could see that she was near hysteria. ” I’m going to find out who’s playing that violin. You come with me.

We’ll find this person together. “

She was unwilling but I dragged her to the east door. As I opened it I could distinctly hear the sound of a violin.

” Come on,” I said, and we started up the stairs. The violin had stopped playing, but we went on to Barbarina’s room; I threw open the door. The violin was lying on the chair; the music was still on the stand. The room was just as it had been when I had last seen it. I looked at Hyson, but she had lowered her eyes and was staring at the floor.

I was more frightened than I had ever been, because never before had I felt so utterly alone. First I had had my parents to care for me; then—as I thought—a husband; finally a grandfather. I had lost them all, for now I could no longer rely on Roc to protect me from the danger which I felt was close.

Roc left for his week-end trip.

Before he went he said to me, when we were in the bed room together:

“I don’t like this at all, Favel. We’ve got to get it sorted out. I wish you hadn’t gone snooping. It’s all at such an unfortunate time.”

He was almost his old self and I immediately swung round to meet him half-way. Eagerly I waited for what he would say next. ” There’s a simple explanation to all this,” he said. ” But I can’t tell you yet.

Will you wait a while and trust me? “

” But Roc …”

” All right,” he said. ” You can’t. But this isn’t going on. I’ll think about it while I’m away; but promise me this: You won’t think too badly of me, will you? I’m really not quite such a scoundrel as you believe I am.”

” Oh Roc,” I said, ” it’s all so unnecessary. There was no need to tell me lies. I just wish you hadn’t.”

” And you can’t trust someone who has once lied, can you?” He looked at me wistfully and I had the impression that he was trying to charm me as he had so many times before.

” Roc, tell me about it,” I pleaded. ” Tell me now. Then we can start being happy again.”

He hesitated.

“Not now, Favel.”

“But why not now?”

“It isn’t only my affair. I’ve got to discuss it with some one else.”

” Oh, I see.”

” But you don’t see. Listen, Favel. I love you. And you’ve got to love me too. You’ve got to trust me. Damn it, can’t you have a little faith in me?”

I couldn’t make myself say yes.

” All right.” He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a swift kiss on the lips with nothing warm or passionate about it. ” See you on Monday or Tuesday.”

Then he was gone, leaving me as baffled and unhappy as before—or almost.

But the fact that he was away did give me an opportunity to think; and several little incidents from the past kept recurring to me. I had been in danger of losing my life on two occasions since coming to Pendorric; which was strange because it was within a very short time, and it was something which had never happened to me before in the whole of my life. I was thinking of that time when someone had removed the danger signal on the cliffs. But then it had been Roc who had saved me. At that time I had not known I was Lord Polhorgan’s granddaughter. But Roc had, and if I had died then. Roc would have inherited nothing.

A horrible thought came to me. Was it meant to shift suspicion? Was the idea that, when later I had a fatal accident, people would remember how Roc had saved me then?

No, that was a hideous thought. I was suggesting that Roc had deliberately locked me in the vault and planned to leave me there! It was as though my personality had split into two; there was part of me which was determined to defend Roc and prove him innocent, and another equally as determined to prove him guilty.

Who else could have locked the door of the vault? Who else could have come along and unlocked it and then pretended that it was jammed? Who else had a motive for wanting to be rid of me? On my death Roc would inherit my grandfather’s fortune and be free to marry whomsoever he wished. Who would that be? Althea Grey?

Then I thought of what Polly had said that morning in Bedivere House: when Barbarina was dead. Roc’s father had wanted to marry Louisa.

While I was brooding on these things there was a knock on the door and Morwenna came in. For a moment I felt envious of her radiant happiness.

” Oh hallo, Favel. I hoped I’d find you here.” She looked at me anxiously. ” Roc seems to have gone off in a bit of a huff. Why don’t you make it up?”

I was silent and she shrugged her shoulders. ” It’s unlike him,” she went on. ” Usually with him it’s a big flare-up and then everything’s as it was before. Yet this thing of yours seems to have been going on for days.”

“You mustn’t let it bother you,” I said.