The Pool of St. Branok (19 page)

Morwenna and I were too excited to sleep. We lay in our beds and talked about the evening.

“I think Gervaise is very interested in you,” said Morwenna.

“Oh, it is just because he stayed at Cador once.”

“I think it is more than that.”

“He came down with Jonnie. They were digging together.”

“Yes. I know. By Branok Pool.”

Still the mention of the place made me feel as though I had been doused in cold water.

“That’s why he picked me out,” I explained. “He recognized me.”

“Well, he needn’t have attached himself to you for the whole evening. He liked you. He liked you a lot. I could see that.”

“And Philip liked you.”

“I don’t think so. He was just doing what he felt he had to. He told me Gervaise had given him a tip.”

“A tip?”

“Yes … advised him about some horse race and he won two hundred pounds. He said he was very grateful to Gervaise. I think that was why he was dancing with me because Gervaise wanted him to. Did you ask him to?”

“What nonsense!” I lied. “Really, Morwenna, you have to stop thinking like this. You get the notion that nobody wants you for yourself … and you make it so obvious that if you are not careful people will begin to think you are right.”

“You certainly don’t think like that.”

“No, my dear Morwenna, I never think about it. If people like me that’s fine … if they don’t … well, I won’t like them either. We always like people who like us. I think it will be fun riding tomorrow. Gervaise is amusing, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Morwenna.

“Are you sleepy? Good night.”

“Good night,” said Morwenna.

I could not sleep. It had been an exciting evening. I had loved the glitter, the ballroom, the splendid dresses, the flowers and meeting Gervaise. But over it all had been the shadow of the past. I could not think of Gervaise without seeing him digging at the pool and remembering the fears that had aroused in me.

I supposed it would always be like that.

My friendship with Gervaise grew apace. He had visited the house frequently. We met at parties and he always arranged that we should be together there. Philip Martin had dropped out. I supposed he felt he had repaid his obligations to Gervaise for the “tip.” So we were no longer a quartet. Poor Morwenna, she accepted her fate stoically. It was all working out just as she had expected it would.

I had made a pact with Gervaise that when we were at parties and dances, he would be sure that there was a partner for Morwenna. He always did and I was grateful to him. He was very kind and gentle to her and provided the partners in the most tactful way, so that Morwenna did not guess she was being asked because he insisted that they should.

There was a ball given by Aunt Helena and Uncle Matthew, but it was held at the house in the square as there was an adequate ballroom there. Uncle Peter was present and several celebrated politicians so it was quite an auspicious occasion.

It went off very well and by that time it seemed clear that the friendship between myself and Gervaise was progressing to something deeper.

Uncle Peter had, as he said, made discreet inquiries and discovered that Gervaise was the younger son of a rather illustrious family which claimed to have come over with the Conqueror, but could at least be traced to the fourteenth century. They had fallen on hard times, as had so many of the great families with mansions to keep up and a style of living from which it would be sacrilege to depart because it had been going on for centuries. Gervaise was by no means wealthy; there were two elder brothers and a sister. The estate was in Derbyshire. His father had married a rich heiress which had bolstered up the family fortunes for a few decades. Gervaise had charm, breeding, but a rather inadequate income.

My mother was not in the least perturbed about that. She said they were not fortune hunting for their daughter. She thought Gervaise charming and she could see that I was becoming very fond of him.

On the rare days when I did not see him time seemed long. I missed the laughter and the lighthearted way of looking at life.

“You’re lucky,” said Morwenna with ungrudging admiration. “He is so amusing … but what I like best about him is that he is so kind. Are you going to marry him?”

“I’ll have to wait to be asked.”

“I’m sure he will ask you.”

“Sometimes I am not sure. Has it struck you that, charming as he is, he is not really very serious?”

She was thoughtful. “He makes everything seem amusing, yes, but I think he could probably be serious about some things, and I think he is about you. He is always there. You see each other so frequently.”

“Yes,” I said slowly. And I knew I should be unhappy if he regarded our relationship as something with which to amuse himself for a short time.

We suited each other. It amazed me how, when I was in his company, I responded to him. I was lighthearted, as he was … and everything seemed to be such fun. I had never felt quite so carefree since that incident at the pool. In the first place he had reminded me of it because of the fact that he had dug there with Jonnie. He reminded me of Jonnie, being interested in the same things—and yet with him I felt lighthearted. It was miraculous.

He was a great favorite with the family. My mother had written to my father; she wanted him to come up to London and stay a while. I knew why. It was because she thought that my relationship with Gervaise was growing serious and she wanted him to inspect a possible son-in-law. They tried to be discreet but it was not difficult to see through their discretion.

The season progressed; more parties, more dinners, all of which I shared with Gervaise. We visited the opera; we shared a love of this; we heard the works of Donizetti and Bellini and a young composer, Giuseppe Verdi, whose music I enjoyed more than any. On one occasion the Queen was present. That was a gala event. I watched her, obviously enraptured by the music, now and then turning to the Prince beside her to make some comment.

This season, which I had anticipated with a certain amount of apprehension, was proving to be one of the most exciting and wonderful periods of my life. It was all due to Gervaise, of course.

He had been very interested to meet Grace again. He talked to her about Jonnie and how friendly they had been. Grace had said it had been wonderful to be able to talk about Jonnie; she feared that to do so upset his mother a great deal and so his name was hardly ever mentioned. She found some relief in talking of him. She wanted to hear the little anecdotes he had to tell of their friendship. He made them amusing and it was pleasant to hear them laughing together.

Grace told me that she thought he was one of the most charming men she had ever met and she was happy for me.

“How I wish,” she said, “that Morwenna could find the same happiness.”

“Morwenna will be glad when the season is over,” I replied. “But I don’t think it has been as bad as she expected.”

“The good Gervaise has tried to provide her with escorts. He is a very thoughtful young man.”

I was pleased as I always was when people praised him.

I was certain now that he was going to ask me to marry him and I was equally certain that I was going to say yes.

It happened one day when we were in Kensington Gardens. It was rarely that we were completely alone together. Grace often accompanied us on our walks but on this day Morwenna had had to pay an unexpected visit to her dressmaker and Grace went with her. Gervaise was now accepted as a friend of the family; and so, since Grace was with Morwenna, there was no objection to my going for a walk with him.

We walked to the Round Pond and watched the children playing with their boats, and we strolled down the avenue of trees and sat for a while under them.

He said: “I expect you know what I am going to say, Angelet. I think everyone knows I am going to say it sometime. I was just trying to let a reasonable time elapse … though I don’t see why I should. Why does one feel one must be conventional? If I ask you here I shan’t have to go down on my knees … but I ask you with heartfelt humility, being fully aware of the honor you do me.”

I laughed and said: “Oh, come to the point, Gervaise.”

“I hoped you’d say that. Will you?”

“I think you should be a little more explicit.”

“Marry me,” he said.

“But, of course,” I replied.

He took my hand and kissed it.

“You are unlike anyone else I have ever known. You are frank and honest. Almost any other girl would have hummed and hawed and said it was so sudden.”

“I could hardly say that. You have been a constant visitor to the house ever since the ball. We didn’t think you came to study the architecture.”

“Did you not? Oh dear, I have betrayed myself. Was it so obvious?”

“I think it was. I hoped it was.”

“Oh, Angelet, how wise they were when they named you. You are indeed an angel.”

“Please don’t endow me with saintly qualities. You will certainly be disappointed if you do.”

“Well, I never greatly cared for saints, but angels are another matter. This is wonderful. We shall make plans. An early wedding, don’t you think? You’ll have to meet the family. I’ve met yours so that’s something. We’ll go down soon. They’ll want to arrange things, I suppose. Let them. We’ll just think of ourselves. Contemplate it, my darling. We shall be together for ever and ever.”

“For as long as we both shall live. I love that phrase. There’s something so comforting about it.”

“It was rather miraculous, wasn’t it … coming across you at the ball. Though our paths would have crossed some time or other considering we were both in the same season.”

“And before I thought there was something rather unpleasant about these seasons. You know what I mean. Girls being paraded like that.”

He nodded. “But people have to be brought together, I suppose, and I shall never quarrel with any system that brought me my Angelet.”

“Nor I with one which gave me you.”

“I love you, Angelet.”

“I was waiting to hear you say that.”

“Did you really want me to state the obvious?”

“I couldn’t believe it until I heard it.”

“Now will
you
state what I
hope
is obvious?”

“I love you, Gervaise.”

“Then that is settled.”

“How strange that you should have come to Cador.”

“It was clearly fate.”

“But then we did not see each other for all those years.”

“That was because you hadn’t the sense to be older when we met. You had to grow up and when the time was ripe and Fate said, ‘Bring in the lovers …’ and there we were at the Bellington ball.”

“So you believe in fate.”

“I think we make our own.”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

He was silent.

“Confess,” I demanded.

“Must I?”

“Indeed you must. I must know the worst.”

“Well, when I was six years old I was in love with a little girl of eight. We used to go to dancing classes and she bullied me shamefully. My devotion was true and I was faithful to her for six weeks in spite of the brutal manner in which she treated me. She used to pinch my ears.”

“I mean seriously in love.”

“Never. Until now. And you?”

I hesitated.

“At one time I was very fond of Jonnie. And there was someone else.”

“Oh?”

“He was some sort of relation. He came down to Cador for a while to see if estate management would suit him as a career. His name was Benedict.”

“He sounds like a saint or a pope or at least a monk. Weren’t they the ones who made that delicious liqueur? Tell me more of your Benedict.”

“He seemed very handsome and magnificent. I was about ten. I suppose one’s judgment is not to be relied on at that age.”

“You sound as though this hero had feet of clay.”

“Oh no … no. I was ill and he went away and I never saw him again.”

“Then I can curb my jealousy regarding him. Were there others?”

I shook my head emphatically. He smiled at me and I thought: I am happy … happier than I ever thought I should be since …

We sat for a while on the seat watching the little boats on the water, discreetly holding hands.

“Shall we go back and tell them?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I feel I want to tell everybody.”

“So do I.”

As we came out of the gardens a woman approached us. She was carrying a tray of violets.

“A bunch of vi’lets for the lady,” she said wheedlingly. “Come on, young gentleman … I’ve got children at home and I’ve got to get rid of these ’ere before I go ’ome to them. Can’t go back to little ’uns with nothing in me pocket, can I?”

Gervaise selected the biggest bunch. They were wilting slightly and I was very sorry for the woman who had this basket full of violets, past their first freshness, to sell before she went home to her family.

Gervaise gave the violets to me. He noticed my pity for the woman and I was sure he shared it. He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He put them on the woman’s tray. She stared at them.

“Well, sir … well, me lord …” she began. “ ’Ere you are. You bought the blooming lot.”

“Keep them. Sell them.”

“Gawd bless yer.”

“This is our lucky day,” he said.

“Well, bless you sir, if it ain’t mine, too.”

He put his arm through mine. I smelt the violets. They seemed very beautiful to me.

“That was a lot of money you gave her.”

“I had to. I was sorry for her.”

“Because of all those children?”

“Because she’s not us. I am sorry for every man in London who is not engaged to marry Angelet.”

“You say the most delightful things.”

“They will become more delightful as the years pass.”

“I do hope so. Do you believe her story about going home to all those children?”

“No.”

“You didn’t?”

“I expect it is what they call sales patter.”

“But you must have believed her … just for a moment. You gave her all that money.”

“I daresay she needs it more than I do.”

“Gervaise, I believed in those children.”