The Pool of St. Branok (21 page)

“Well,” she said. “I don’t think it is going to be all that much of an ordeal, do you?”

“I am not sure of Lady Mandeville. She looked at me so piercingly that I thought she was seeing right through me.”

“Well, naturally she would want to get to know her prospective daughter-in-law.”

“I rather like Sir Horace.”

“Yes, he resembles Gervaise.”

“I saw that and it endeared him to me.”

“It’s going to be amusing. The daughter looks as if she could be fun. The brothers are rather serious. I imagine they take after their mother. I shall invite them to Cador, of course.”

“When?” I asked.

“It all depends when the wedding will be. I suppose that is something we shall decide while we are here.”

“I thought I was here on approval.”

“Then don’t. I have an idea that Gervaise is the sort of young man who will make up his own mind without seeking advice; and he has already done that.”

“What does Father think of him?”

“Much the same as I do. He’s interested in the second son … rather naturally because he is in the law … as your father was when he started out.”

“Well, we shall see how it goes.”

“Not nervous now?”

“No. Though I should like to make a good impression. I am sure Gervaise would be happy if I did.”

“All you have to do is be yourself … and you will.”

In the dining room the whole family were assembled. I was seated beside Sir Horace. Lady Mandeville was at the other end of the table with my father next to her. Conversation was mostly about the house, and when we described Cador to them, they were very interested.

They had arranged one or two dinner parties so that we could meet the family’s friends who lived in the neighborhood; and they were pleased to hear that I enjoyed riding.

Once or twice I caught Marian’s eye across the table. I could almost imagine that she winked at me. My father talked about some of the old customs of Cornwall and they were very interested in these.

“We are not so imaginative here in Derbyshire,” said Sir Horace. “I do not think we would accept the story of those little people finding gold in a tin mine.”

“I would say we were more realistic,” put in Lady Mandeville.

My mother told them the story of the Bells of St Branok to which they listened with the utmost skepticism, but which sent shivers through me; and I wished that subject had not been brought up.

“Cornwall must be quite different from the rest of England,” said Lady Mandeville.

“Oh, it is,” declared my mother. “I am only half Cornish … through my father, and Rolf … well, he is what is called a foreigner there. You are right when you say it is different. I hope you will visit it and see for yourselves.”

They all declared they would be delighted to do so.

“Tomorrow,” said Lady Mandeville, “I shall show you the house … if you wish to see it; and I will tell you some of the tales which have been handed down to us. We have had our adventures. The Wars of the Roses … the Great Rebellion … but all perfectly natural. As I say, we are a down-to-earth people here.”

“It will be most fascinating,” said my mother.

Then we chatted about the past and the eldest son, William, talked of the estate, and the young one in an aside to my father about the changes in law over the last few years; and the evening passed pleasantly.

I felt the worst of the ordeal was over.

I was right. After the first two days when I thought I was on trial, I began to enjoy the visit. I was falling more and more in love with Gervaise every day. I began to form a friendship with Marian; the fact that she was about a year younger than I was made me feel like an elder sister. And as I had always wanted to be a sister—preferably an elder one—I felt very contented.

I found the house very attractive but was secretly glad that Gervaise and I would not be living in it. Gervaise said he would like to live in London. He had never been exactly a country boy—unlike his brothers.

Henry would have a practice in law and might well go to London, possibly Derby or some big city; William would run the estate with his father; and Marian would have a season next year and then presumably marry.

We rode together; we attended the dinner parties which had been arranged, and the neighbors came and inspected me as Gervaise’s future wife. It was all according to convention. I had done just what was expected of a young girl, and had done it rather successfully. I had had my season and before it was over I was engaged to be married to the approval of both our families. All that had to follow now was the wedding.

My father and Sir Horace talked of settlements of which I did not want to hear for they seemed mercenary to me. Lady Mandeville and my mother talked about the wedding, which would, of course, take place at Cador.

The Mandevilles would travel to Cornwall then; they would not come before as it was such a long journey; but the two families had this excellent opportunity of exchanging views on the subject now.

Both sides agreed that there should be no undue delay. This meant that the Mandevilles had put their seal upon the matter.

Marian and I were a good deal together. We had quite a lot in common besides our age. I had just been presented; she soon would be; she wanted to hear all about it.

I told her of the dancing classes, the curtsies which had to be practiced endlessly, the brief moment with the Queen … and then the season.

“And the whole thing is arranged to get us married,” she said. “Well, it worked with you.”

“I had a good start. I knew Gervaise before, when he came down to Cornwall to dig. He was a friend of my cousin who was killed in the Crimea.”

“Yes, I know. I heard. The family thought Gervaise might take up archaeology then. He seemed really keen … but he dropped it, of course.”

“Why do you say ‘of course’ like that?”

“Well, he never wants to do anything for long … except racing. I reckon he’ll get his own stables, one day. It’s the thing he’s really keen on.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know.”

“The family don’t like it … not after what happened to great-great and probably a lot more greats grandfather Sir Elmore. He gambled the family estate away. You’ll see him in the gallery. I’ll show him to you. Ever since that happened the family have been terrified of the horses.”

“Ah,” I said, “skeletons in the cupboard?”

“We have a few. I expect most people have. You too …?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“It’s rather fun getting them out and having a look at them. We ought to do that more often. It can be a lesson to us all.”

“You must show me the reckless Sir Elmore, one day.”

“I will. I expect you like the horses too.”

“I like riding them.”

“I didn’t mean horses. I meant
the
horses … which means gambling on them.”

“I’ve never gambled. I don’t have the urge to.”

“Then you will keep Gervaise on an even keel, as they say. Don’t give him any rein … that’s apt … or he’ll be galloping off which he can do rather recklessly. Papa has had to bail him out once or twice. Oh, I am sorry. I’m upsetting your rose-colored picture of him. Don’t take any notice. My brother Gervaise is the nicest person in the whole world. I love him dearly. If I wasn’t his sister and he weren’t engaged to you I’d want to marry him. He has the sweetest nature. I’m sure I shall never find anyone half as nice.”

“I know.”

“He’s much nicer than my other brothers. They are steady as rocks. … But Gervaise is the one for me.”

“I feel that too,” I told her.

“I’m glad you are going to marry him. We all think it is most suitable.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“And what is nice is your people like Gervaise, too.”

“They think he is charming.”

“So it is the ideal match. … I wonder what will happen to me when I come out.”

“For that,” I said, “we must wait and see.”

Marian showed me the picture of the reckless Sir Elmore.

“He gambled and gambled and in the end he wagered the house in the hope of recuperating all his losses.”

“And he won?”

“No, he did not. He lost.”

“But the house remained in the family’s possession?”

“Only because the eldest son married a rich woman … just in the nick of time. It was a great self-sacrifice. He did it for Mandeville Court. But then later he weakened and went back to his first love and he set her up in part of the house. He refused to give her up. One day she disappeared. They say the wife murdered her … pushed her out of a window and buried her late at night. She is supposed to haunt the place.”

“And that’s one of the skeletons. And a ghost! I thought your mother said that only
natural
things happened here.”

“Oh, she refuses to accept the story of the ghost. I do though. I think all old houses ought to have a ghost. Don’t you think Sir Elmore is handsome?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I always think he has a twinkle in his eyes … just like Gervaise has. You can imagine how, ever since, there has been a horror of anyone in the family ever falling into the clutches of ‘the horses.’ ”

“And Gervaise has?”

“I don’t know that it is necessarily horses, though I suppose they come into it. He just likes doing unusual things. My father wishes that he had taken up something like the law … something which would have a steadying influence. They weren’t very keen on archaeology, but it was better than nothing.”

“I thought he was very keen on that when he came to Cador.”

“He is keen … while it lasts. Someday he will find something he really wants to do and then he will do it better than anyone else ever has before.”

And after that I often went to the gallery to look at Sir Elmore.

One day Lady Mandeville came upon me there. I did not hear her arrive. I was standing before the portrait of the man who interested me so much and she was beside me before I realized it.

“A good portrait, is it not?” she said. “There is something quite lifelike about it.”

“Yes, one could imagine he is laughing at us.”

She nodded. “Do you know the story of him?”

“Marian told me.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she turned to me and said: “It’s a weakness in the family. They have no respect for money. I think you have been very sensibly brought up. That is why I feel I can talk to you.”

I felt flattered. I knew that she had accepted me, but I did not know she had any great opinion of my wisdom.

She looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “You will have to look after Gervaise,” she said. “I believe you can. That is why I am delighted by this marriage. William and Henry take after me. I have no qualms about them. Gervaise is a Mandeville through and through.”

“Oh yes …”

“Indeed yes. They are very charming. His father is just the same … but they have no respect for money. One has to keep a watch on them. I have with Sir Horace. I am telling you this, and then we will say no more about it. When I married into the family Sir Horace’s finances were in disorder. I brought a large fortune with me and ever since then I have managed the affairs of this household. That is the way I have brought the family back to prosperity. You may think I should not be talking thus, but I am doing it because you are a sensible girl. I am pleased that you are to marry Gervaise. He is a delightful young man in almost every way, but he is reckless where money is concerned. He is a member of a family which simply does not understand how to handle it. When he has it, it slips through his fingers. You must keep him away from the gaming tables. You’ll manage it, my dear, as I have with his father. There! I have said my say. And I think it is right that you should know this. You will be very happy with my son. He is a very good and kindly young man. He would be perfect but for this one weakness, and I think it is only right that you should be aware of it.”

She patted my cheek lightly and went on: “You are amazed that your future mother-in-law should talk to you thus. But I do so because I like you. I like your family; I trust you; and I know you are going to be to Gervaise what I have been to his father.”

After that encounter with Lady Mandeville there seemed to be a special friendship between us. She talked to me about the house and I understood that it meant a great deal to her. I realized that she loved it with a deeper passion than the rest of the family did, although she had only come to it through marriage. She was like a convert to a new faith who seems more deeply devoted than those who had been born to it.

Somehow the knowledge that Gervaise had some weaknesses only endeared him to me. After all, paragons of virtue are often rather dull and difficult to live up to.

No one saw any reason why the marriage should be delayed.

Two months would give us ample time, said my mother. As soon as we returned to London we would begin our preparations. The Mandevilles would come to Cornwall for the wedding.

My parents came to my room and I could see from their expressions that there was going to be a serious discussion.

“It’s the settlement,” said my father.

“Oh, I don’t want to hear about that.”

“You must be sensible, darling,” said my mother. “It’s the usual arrangement, that’s all.”

“But why does this have to be done? It’s like paying Gervaise to take me.”

“It’s just a guarantee that you are not going to your husband penniless.”

“I am sure Gervaise never thought of money.”

“I am sure he didn’t. But your mother and I want you to know that you are taking this money with you … and …”

My father bit his lip and my mother went on: “It’s in your name. It is something that’s there, you know … and it can’t be touched without a lot of negotiations with lawyers.”

“I don’t understand what this is all about.”

My father said: “On the advice of Sir Horace and Lady Mandeville I did it this way. They didn’t want you to have money which could be easily accessible …”

“They seem to think that Gervaise can be a little reckless with money and it was wise to … tie it up a bit” put in my mother.

“I wish you hadn’t done it,” I said.

“It’s all right Angelet,” insisted my mother. “It’s always done.”