Menfreya in the Morning

7

We had been in Provence six weeks. It was a long honeymoon. November was with us and the rainy weather had set in. It fell in torrents, bouncing up and down on the balcony and flooding the bedroom; the clouds completely blotted out the mountains and the sea, and without the sun there was a decided chill in the air. It was time to leave for home.

It was good to be back in Menfreya. My spirits were lifted by my first glimpse of the house, and as we drove under the old clock tower I told myself that I was going to be happy in my new home. I was determined to be all that Bevil wanted in a wife.

It soon became clear that a ministerial crisis was brewing. Balfour had replaced Salisbury as Prime Minister not long after the new King’s coronation, and Chamberlain, with his following, was threatening to resign over Protectionist proposals. I must understand these problems thoroughly if I were going to be of any real help. The duty of a politician was to make laws which would improve the well-being of the country; it seemed to me that that was a noble ambition. I was fired with enthusiasm. When I told him this he kissed me and said I was going to be the ideal politician’s wife. He would grow enthusiastic over some wrong which in his view was a particular evil. He would discuss the problems with me, and I found myself caught up in his zeal.

He took his duties so seriously. In the town of Lamella he had chambers, and there, when be was in Cornwall, he spent two mornings a week so that those whom be represented in Parliament might come to see him with any problems they wished to discuss. I sometimes went there with him and, to my delight, found that I could be of use and that he realized It Then I forgot that honeymoon incident which had so disturbed me; I was even able to tell myself I had imagined the Whole thing.

Bevil’s career began to obsess me as it did him. I was delighted to find that, although he was ambitious—he dreamed of Cabinet office and the ultimate prize of the premiership— he really had the good of his constituents at heart and was determined to make himself as accessible as possible. This meant a great deal of hard work; there was a constant stream of people to see, a tremendous amount of correspondence; and although William Lister was very efficient, there were many ways in which I could make myself useful.

I was happier than I had ever been.

It has always astonished me how changes come into one’s life. The gradual change becomes acceptable, but sudden shock, presenting itself without warning to shatter the existence so completely that nothing will ever be the same again, makes me uneasily aware of the perpetual uncertainties of life.

That is what happened to me on that April morning. There were wild violets under the hedges and cowslips in the meadows, and I was waking every morning to find my room full of sunshine and the sound of the waves as they slowly advanced and retreated in a steady, soothing rhythm.

It was Bevil's day for receiving people in his Lansella chambers, and I was alone that morning as he had work to do there with William Lister. I went down to deviled kidneys and bacon which were in a chafing dish on the sideboard. Breakfast was from seven-thirty till nine at Menfreya, and this morning, as neither of my parents-in-law were down and Bevil had already left, I was alone. I was studying the papers carefully when one of the servants brought in the letters and laid them on the table.

I glanced at them, and the handwriting on one of them made me catch my breath.

Gwennan’s!

I slit open the envelope. There was a Plymouth address at the top of the letter. I read:

“Dear Harriet, This is like old times, isn’t it? I expect you’ve been wondering what has been happening to me all this time. I am about to satisfy your curiosity, if you still have it and want it satisfied. This is between us two. I want to see you first and in secret Will you come to this address either today or tomorrow. I shall be here. There is a condition. You must come alone and tell no one. I hope you will. I rely on you.

Gwennan.

P.S. It’s easy to find. When you come out of the station turn right, then turn left as far as you can go. Turn right again and you’ll see it. No. 20. I shall be waiting.”

She knew then that I was at Menfreya; she knew that I was married to Bevil, for the letter was addressed to Mrs. Menfrey. I was thankful that I had been alone when I received it.

As I walked through those streets, which grew more and more squalid with every step, I was being prepared for what I should find. Number 20 was a three-storied house in the final stages of decay. The front door was open, and as I stepped into a hall an old woman called out to me. She was sitting in a rocking chair in a room on the right, the door of which was wide open. I saw a line of washing in the room and several children in ragged garments.

“I want Mrs. Bellairs,” I told her.

“Right at the top,” she said.

I felt sickened as I mounted those rickety stairs; it wasn’t the smell; it wasn’t the obvious dirt and poverty; it was the fear of what I should find when I opened that door beyond which Gwennan was waiting for me.

I knocked. I heard her voice, with the lilt in it which was so like Bevil’s.

“Harriet So you came … you angel!”

“Gwennan.” I stood there staring at her. Where was my beautiful Gwennan with the scornful, flashing eyes, the springing, tawny hair, the Menfrey look? In her place was an emaciated woman, so gaunt that it took me some seconds to assure myself that it was Gwennan. Her body was wrapped in a dressing gown that might once have been gay. I noticed it was torn in places.

I could have wept at the change hi her since I had last seen her. I wanted to hide from her the horror in my face, so I drew her to me and held her fast.

“Oh, Harriet … you sentimental creature! You always were, I knew it”

“You had better tell me everything,” I said. “Where is Benedict Bellairs?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you’ve left him?”

She nodded. “It was the biggest mistake I ever made, Harriet, when I ran away with him.”

“So it went wrong?”

“Almost from the start. He thought that I had money of my own. He’d heard of the Menfreys … old family … traditions, and the rest. And then … I brought nothing.”

“So you found your marriage was a mistake and …”

“It wasn’t exactly a marriage. I thought it was, but he was married already. I was a simpleton, Harriet. It didn’t take much subtlety to deceive me. I went through a form of marriage … but he didn’t even commit bigamy for my sake. It was a friend of his who played the parson. Another actor, so he did it rather well.”

“Gwennan!”

“You look shocked. I read about you in the papers. ‘Daughter of Lansella’s late M.P. marries the present Member. Miss Harriet Delvaney, daughter of the late Sir Edward, was married to Mr. Bevil Menfrey, M.P. for Lamella and district. So, Harriet, you got your wish then. You always wanted Bevil, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

She smiled rather sadly. ‘Tell me what happened when I left?”

The same Gwennan I Her own affairs were always more interesting than those of others, and she made no attempt to hide this.

“Consternation,”

“III bet there was. And Harry?”

“He was heartbroken.”

“Poor Harry! He would have been a good husband to me.”

“What happened after this … mock marriage?”

“I became ‘with child', as they say.”

“You have a child?”

“It’s for that reason that I’ve asked you here really. Tm sinking my pride for him.”

“Where is he?”

She went to a door and opened it. In a small room was an old wicker basket, and in this a child lay asleep. He was pale-faced and not very clean, but he had the Menfrey tawny hair, and I recognized him as one of them.

“Benedict,” she said gently.

“Benedict Bellairs,” I added.

“Benedict Menfrey,” she corrected me.

“Of course.”

“It’s a difficult situation, Harriet”

I agreed, “Why did you ask me? Tell me everything, Gwennan.”

“I asked you because you’re one of the family now and I expect more help from you than the others. I want to come back to Menfreya, Harriet. I can’t stand this life any longer. And I want him brought up at Menfreya,”

“Well, of course you’ll come back.”

“And how explain … ?”

“It could be done. You’ve lost your husband, so you’ve come home. It’s a delicate situation but could be arranged.”

“I wouldn’t come unless they wanted me.”

“But, Gwennan, of course they’ll want you. You belong to them.”

“Dear old Harriet. You’ve got such nice thoughts. Harriet, we real Menfreys—not those by marriage—may not be so land. I want to come back. I want my baby to come back. But I don’t want any recriminations. I don’t want any grudging admittance.”

“You want them to kill the fatted calf for the prodigal daughter?”

“No. I want to come back … and I want you to arrange it And I want Benedict to be known as Menfrey. I want to forget there was ever such a person as Benedict Bellairs.”

“But the boy is named after him!”

“Well, we were together when he was born. It was only afterwards … when I didn’t get well again … that things really went wrong between us.”

“When you didn’t get well again? You’re ill, Gwennan. You don't look …”

“I’m no beauty now, you mean. I've been through hard times, Harriet”

“I can see it. Tell me what’s wrong, Gwennan.”

“Oh … nothing that the sea breezes can’t cure.”

“What are you doing now? How are you living?” ; fine shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, Gwennan, you must come back with me,” I cried in horror.

“We’d look well walking together, wouldn’t we? The M.P.’s wife, the lady of elegance, and what I’ve become.”

“I can’t leave you here.”

“I want you to go back and tell them that you’ve seen me. I want to be invited back to Menfreya. I hoped I would never have to do this, but I am doing it now.”

“Ill go back at once. But you should come with me Gwennan. I hate leaving you here.”

She shook her head.

“You’re coming back with me,” I insisted.

“When Bevil or my father comes to fetch me, Harriet”

“I shall go straight back, and they’ll be here today.”

“Will they, do you think?”

“Of course they will! I shall insist.”

“You, Harriet?”

She laughed.

I emptied my purse, leaving myself just a few shillings I might need on the return journey, and I was angry with myself because I had not brought more with me.

I kissed her and left her.

“Ill see you soon,” I said.

I ran to the station, and while I waited for the train I sat thinking of her hi a hundred different scenes. Gwennan on horseback riding through the lanes about Menfreya; at the Chough Towers ball; going into Plymouth to be fitted for her wedding dress. I could not bear to remember her as she bad been and think of her as she was now.

How long that journey seemed, and when I arrived at Liskeard, as I had not known what time I should return, I had to take the local train to Menfrey stow and then walk back to Menfreya.

I was about to run into the house when Bevil came riding into the courtyard.

“Bevil,” I cried. “I must speak to you at once.”

“I’ve something to tell you”

He was excited, but my thoughts were so full of Gwennan that I could think of nothing else. He called to one of the grooms to take his horse and he followed me into the house.

“Bevil… come up to our room. I want to talk to you.”

He took my arm. “You’ll never guess. It's incredible. What do you think, Harriet?”

“Bevil, I must tell you. I’ve been to Plymouth …”

“Harry Leveret. He’s standing against me. What do you think of it? Have you ever heard anything like it?”

“Bevil, I’ve …”

“Of course, I don’t think he’s got much of a chance. But it’s going to be more of a fight than I anticipated. A local man like this … !”

He did not notice how overwrought I was. He could think of nothing but the new situation created by Harry Leveret’s standing against him.

We reached our room. I shut the door and blurted out: “I’ve seen Gwennan.”

That shook him. He stared at me blankly for a few seconds; then he said sharply: “Where?”

“In a squalid room in Plymouth.”

“Good God!”

“She’s got a child.”

“And this… actor?”

“She’s left him. She was never really married to him.”

He was bewildered. I could see him trying to imagine this terrible thing which had happened to proud Gwennan; and at the same time one thought would keep intruding into his concern for his sister. He was picturing her coming back to Menfreya with her child. There would be scandalized comments; his father’s indiscretions would be recalled. “These wild Menfreys,” they would say. “Are they the people we want to represent us in London?” And there was Harry Leveret, waiting, ready to slip into Bevil’s place.

“She’s ill. She wants the boy to be brought up here … as a Menfrey.”

“It can’t be, Harriet!” he said, and his voice was almost a whisper.

“When you’ve seen her, Bevil, you’ll realize it must be.”

“There must be some way out of this. Well take care of her, but if she comes here … with a child and no husband … and a possible election hi view.”

“I know it will be difficult,” I said. “But this is Gwennan.”

“You must leave this to me,” he replied firmly.

I looked at him intently, wondering how well I knew my husband. I was disappointed. I bad thought he would feel as I did, and that was that we must tell the family at once of Owennan’s plight, and we must bring her back to Menfreya Without delay.

“I will go and see her tomorrow,” he said. “In the meantime say nothing to the others.”

I had to be satisfied with that I was certain that when he saw Gwennan he would be as horrified and moved as I was, and I was sure that Gwennan would soon be home.

It was late the next day when Bevil returned from Plymouth. I was alarmed when he came alone.

I was waiting for him as he entered the house.

“Gwennan…” I began.

“She’s all right,” he said. “You needn’t worry.”

“All right? But…”

“She decided that she wouldn’t come back, after all.”

“Wouldn’t come back! But…”

“She saw what it would mean if she did. She didn’t want to make trouble. She says that she’s caused enough already. She’ll be well looked after.”

I was suddenly angry. He had been there, talking to her, making her see how her presence might influence bis career. He had made it impossible for her to come back.

“I’m going to see her,” I said. “I’m going to talk to her.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t you believe me, Harriet?” he asked coldly. He was tired, I could see—physically and emotionally. I understood that Gwennan’s return would not send up the family’s credit in the neighborhood, but it seemed to me that the only thing that mattered was that we should look after her.

“I don’t know what to believe,” I said.

“In that case, rest assured that I have done all I could for her.”

“All you could?” I demanded. “For whom? For Gwennan or the good name of the family, which is so important now with an election pending?”

“For heaven’s sake, Harriet, don’t be a fool! It hasn’t been very pleasant, I can tell you. Gwennan won’t come home. But she will be all right. She’ll have an allowance, and the child will be cared for. You didn’t mention this to my mother? She’d be most upset”

I shook my head.

I went up to our bedroom and sat at the window overlooking the sea. I thought: He was determined not to have her back. He thinks it’s enough to see that she has money. But it isn’t enough. She’s crying out for Menfreya. I thought of her mother—kindly, ineffectual. She had accepted the rule of the Menfrey men, as I would never do. I was one of them now, but I was determined always to be myself.

That was my house on the island there. If Gwennan couldn’t come to Menfreya she could come to the island house. From there she would see Menfreya, and she would be happier for it.

I had made up my mind. Tomorrow I was going to Plymouth to see Gwennan.

In the morning Bevil was like his old self. It seemed to me that in bis mind the affair of Gwennan was neatly marked off as finished. He would probably see bis solicitor and arrange for an allowance to be paid to her, and later he would look after the boy’s education. He might even visit her at regular intervals. But in my opinion that wasn’t the sort of attention Gwennan needed.

I said nothing of the affair, and this must have deceived him. He talked as usual while we breakfasted together.

“There’s going to be some pretty hard campaigning, and I want you to appear with me. We ought to make a tour of the villages and outlying districts. I think you might develop a flan- for that sort of thing, Harriet.”

I was pleased to be included. To be with bun, sharing his life, was what I wanted more than anything. I was interested in the lives of the people whom we represented. I loved the work I did when I went to Lamella. Very often we were able to help some of the old farm workers who were afraid of being turned out of their cottages. Bevil had very strong feelings about looking after the elderly. He said it was inherent hi the old landowning classes and had been bred over the generations. He wanted to modernize some of the fishermen’s cottages along the coast which had been standing for several hundred years and although highly picturesque were scarcely sanitary. There were all these matters to be dealt with; and Bevil was working indefatigably for the people. He would work for those people, I told myself, yet I suspected he would not allow his own sister to come back to her home, and all because he feared scandal. I understood his fears to a certain extent, The battle for his seat was going to be a fierce one, and danger had loomed up from an unexpected quarter. I knew very well what would be said by our opponents. The father was involved hi a scandal and as a result there was not a Menfrey in Parliament for several years. Now there’s Gwennan Menfrey who went off to Plymouth and comes back with a baby and no father for it! There are the Menfreys for you. Are they the sort of people you want to represent you in Parliament?

Radical strength was growing in the country. The influence of William Ewart Gladstone, though he had been dead for some years, was becoming a legend even in constituencies which had been notoriously Tory for generations.

Harry Leveret had a score to settle with the Menfreys, and he had the resources of a millionaire to put behind his campaign.

“We’ve got a fight on our hands, Harriet,” said Bevil, “and you’re going to help me win it. This afternoon I’m going to take you into Lamella to meet the agents and some of the workers. I’ve told them my wife wants a part in the campaign.”

I was scarcely listening. I thought: I'll go to Plymouth as soon as he has left and I'll be back in time to go to Lamella with him. But I must see Gwennan. I must understand why she has changed her mind.

I loved Bevil, but I must retain my own personality. I should never become the kind of woman Lady Menfrey was —without a will of her own, a slave of her menfolk. If Bevil and I were going to build up a worthwhile relationship, he must understand that I was no shadow of another person— not even him. I must be myself.

As soon as Bevil had left I sent for the carriage and drove to Liskeard, where I caught the train to Plymouth. I would return by the midday train and the carriage was to meet me.

For the second tune I walked down the narrow street and opened the door into the squalid rooming house.

I went up the stairs to Gwennan’s room and knocked. There was no answer. I opened the door.

“Gwennan,” I called. “It’s Harriet.”

She was not there. No one was there. I went down the stairs. The door which had been open on my previous visit was still open. The woman was still in her rocking chair. I think she was the landlady, a sort of concierge.

“I’ve come to see Mrs. Bellairs,” I said.

“She’s left Went away with a gentleman who came for her.”

“Where’s she gone?”

“She didn’t leave an address.”

“She left with the baby?”

“With the baby and the gentleman. She owed me three weeks. He paid me right up to the end of the week … and only right, I say, after being kept waiting like that”

“But she must have left an address.”

“She did not. Hustled out quick she were. She just went off with him.”

So that was why Bevil was complacent. He had taken Gwennan to some place and was not going to let anyone at Menfreya know where.

I was shocked and very wretched. I went to the Hoe and sat there for a long time thinking about Gwennan and Bevil and was very unhappy.

I did not realize how long I remained there until I looked at my watch and saw that I had missed the train.

I did not reach Menfreya until late afternoon.

When Bevil came home that night I was in our room.

He was angry—reasonably so, I told myself.

“You made me look rather foolish,” he burst out.

“I'm sorry.”

“So you went to Plymouth. You didn’t believe what I’d told you. You went to see for yourself. On a fool’s errand.”

“It was meant to be an errand of mercy.”

“I had to make excuses for you at Lansella. I said you were not well. I’ve made arrangements for you to say a few words at a meeting next week.”

“What am I expected to say? What a kind husband I have, and I am sure they can put their trust in him because his conduct towards his sister …”

Bevil was really angry; I could see by the glint in his eyes.

“I told you that Gwennan would not come back and that I was arranging that she would be looked after. You’re telling me that you didn’t believe me. You wanted to see for yourself. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“How can you behave like this to your sister?”

“It was her wish.”

“It was your wish, Bevil. Do you think I understand nothing!”

He took my arm and shook me. “I’m tired of this, and I don’t like being made to look foolish.”

“I’m sure you prefer to look cruel in your wife’s eyes than foolish in your friends’.”

His grip on my arm was painful, and when I winced he said, “I must live up to your opinion of me.”

“I think we should have an understanding,” I said, wrenching myself free. He was beside me.

“An understanding certainly.”

“Because I married you it doesn’t mean I share your views. I won’t be brutal because you are. Gwennan wants to come back to Menfreya.”

“She does not.”

“She did until you saw her.”

“I have told you that she prefers things to be as they are now. Can’t you believe me?”

I did not answer, but turned away from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I think one of us should use the dressing room.”

“But I do not.”

“You don’t wish to use it … then I shall.”

“I don’t wish either of us to.”

Of course he was stronger than I. I had never thought that I should fight physically to resist him. But I did; and the more I struggled the more determined he became to subdue me.

He was cruel; he was brutal.

I said breathlessly: “Are you mad? I am not a village girl to be raped when the fancy takes you.”

I was useless against him. I was in his power. It was the most shattering experience of my life.

Fanny brought the breakfast tray to my bedside.

“You look tired,” she said.

“I didn’t have such a good night.”

“Mr. Menfrey was off early. Here, let me put something round your shoulders.” She picked up a bedjacket and, as I put my arm into it, the sleeve of my nightdress was pulled above the elbow. On my forearm was a long bruise.

“My patience me!” cried Fanny. “Where did you get that?”

I stared at it in dismay.

“I… I don’t know.”

“I’ve got some lotion that’s good for bruises. It takes them out hi no tune.”

It was when she was putting on the lotion that she discovered the bruise across my shoulders.

“You don’t remember how you got that either, I suppose,” she said.

Angry lights shot into her eyes. I knew what she was thinking. She had never liked Bevil, and I recalled how she had warned me against him.

Now she would dislike him more than ever. She had made up her mind that he ill-treated me physically.

I sat on the platform beside Bevil and looked down at the sea of faces. He appeared to be relaxed; he had just made an excellent speech and he had been most attentive to me; but he was afraid.

The relationship between us had undergone a change. We were polite to each other; I guessed he was a little ashamed of the force he had used, but he had not referred to it, and I knew it was meant to be symbolic of our relationship. He was the master, he was telling me. He expected obedience from me, and as long as I gave it I should be treated with respect; but if I had to be taught a lesson, he was ready to do the teaching, however unpleasant.

My love for him was unchanged. It had been with me ever since I was a child, and I did not believe it could ever fade. Whatever he was, I wanted him. I knew that the only thing I should not be able to endure would be his indifference. He knew this for although I had deeply resented the affront to my dignity by his display of force, my passionate need of him had betrayed me.

What did I want? I asked myself. Did I want a hero who did not exist? Bevil was the man for me—the wild Menfrey who knew what he wanted and how to take it.

But I hated what I was sure he had done to Gwennan, and if I could, I would have brought her back to Menfreya. I would have had to do so to satisfy myself, however much Bevil had hated me for it.

He had won this battle because he had been cleverer than I. Then he had behaved like the conqueror to the vanquished. Now he was showing me that he was prepared to forget my folly and take me back. So here I was sitting on the platform with him, and at any moment now I would be called upon to say those few words which would show the audience that I adored my husband, that I supported him in everything he did, that we were devoted to one another and that there would never be a scandal surrounding us like that which had forced his father to retire from politics.

And Bevil was uncertain. I could sense it. He knew that I had a will of my own and that Gwennan was between us. The moment came and I rose. I was aware of the bird hi the hat of a woman in the front row; all the curious eyes on me, the rows of faces. In my hand was the short speech which the agent had prepared for me and which I had memorized.

It was typical of a thousand such speeches.

I started to speak, and what I said was not what was written on the paper. I saw Bevil sit forward. He was alarmed. Then … he was smiling. I saw the faces changing; they became alert and interested.

I can’t remember what I said, but I was being natural; I was telling them why they must support my husband.

It was over hi three minutes, but there was loud applause and I sat down, trembling slightly. I had been a success.

That was a wonderful evening. Bevil said: “You’re a find, Harriet Menfrey.” And he was tender and loving, and I was almost happy going home with him, I should have been completely so if I could have forgotten Gwennan.

I did not mention her, and Bevil was not a man to sense the moods of others. To him everything was as it should be. He had married a woman who would be a good politician’s wife; she had brought money to bolster up the family fortune; she had too much spirit at times to be comfortable, but he knew how to subdue that, for he was the all-powerful male and she was, in spite of her sharp tongue, only a woman. Not a beautiful woman either, and therefore not spoilt.

Bevil was very satisfied with his marriage on that night.

During the weeks which followed I was constantly with Bevil. He took me everywhere with him, and gradually our relationship slipped back to what it had been in the days of our honeymoon. How glad I was that I had for some time steeped myself in politics so that I could talk intelligently of events. I was never happier than when I saw Bevil sit back, his arms folded, a look of gravity on his face, eyes lowered to hide the satisfaction in them, when I made some well-thought-out comment or my occasional platform speech.

For the first time in my life I was completely unconscious of my limp; I knew that no physically perfect woman could have delighted Bevil more than I did … at that time.

But life does not remain static.

It was about two months after I received that letter from Gwennan that the next arrived. This was short.

“Dear Harriet,

This is very urgent. I must see you. Please come to me here as soon as you receive this letter. Don’t let anything delay you. Please, Harriet.

Gwennan.”

On the top of the letter was a Plymouth address.

Bevil was in the dressing room when I opened the letter. I daren’t show it to him for I believed he would put everything possible hi the way of my going, and I was determined not to fail Gwennan this time.

I had hidden the letter when he came out and sat on the bed chatting about the day’s program. I was to be with him all morning in the Lansella chambers because one of the tasks I had been able to do particularly well was to listen to the women’s problems, record them and advise on them.

I could not say I was going to Plymouth. I pictured him struggling with me, finding the letter and perhaps going in my place.

We would return to luncheon at Menfreya, and hi the afternoon I should be free because he had an engagement which did not include me.

Never had a morning seemed so long; I was terrified that something would happen to prevent my leaving, but at last I was free.

It was about four o’clock when I arrived at the station and took a cab to the address Gwennan had given me.

We drew up before a small but respectable hotel, where I guessed Bevil had installed her.

When I asked for Mrs. Bellairs the receptionist opened her eyes wide and told me to wait a minute please. She went away, and in a few minutes the proprietress of the hotel came hurrying out.

“I’m so relieved,” she said. “Please come in here.”

She took me into a pleasant but modest reception room.

“You’re related?” she asked.

“I'm her sister-in-law.”

Her relief was obvious.

“She died early this morning.”

“Dead …” I repeated stupidly.

“It was inevitable. She was so weak and had evidently neglected her health for a long time. It was too late when she came here, and we knew the end couldn’t be far off. I’ve notified her brother.”

“When?”

“The letter was posted this morning.”

“And the child?”

“He is being looked after by one of my maids. I am grateful that you came. We naturally want instructions. You will be Mrs. Harriet Menfrey perhaps?”

“I am.”

“I have a letter for you. She asked that it should be delivered into your hands personally if that were possible. I will bring it to you.”

For a few seconds I could only stare at the familiar handwriting and think of Gwennan … dead.

“My dear Harriet,

I am writing to you in case mere is no time for speaking. I’m dying, I’ve known it for months. I went through a terrible time after Benedict had gone. I was worried and there was no money. At one time I wanted to come back to Menfreya to die, but I saw that that wasn’t possible. When Bevil came to see me I realized it. It wasn’t anything he said; in fact he said I must come back to be looked after, but I could see that it wouldn’t be any good. You can’t go back and make things as they were. The moving finger writes and all that. I knew that I couldn’t face the explanations, having the child, the mess I’d made of everything. It would have been too humiliating, and I’m too proud. So in spite of Devil’s persuasion, I didn’t come. I’d made up my mind; he saw that, because we do understand each other. Well, now there’s Benny, and I’m writing this to you, Harriet, because you’re the one I want to look after him. I want him to go back to Menfreya, but I want you to be a mother to him. Hell be at a disadvantage, as you were when you were little, and you will understand that more than anyone else.

“I may be dead when you read this. I’m dying now, Harriet It was such a different sort of life after Menfreya. Late nights, crowded rooms, cheap theatrical lodgings—and then, of course, the wretched poverty. I suppose I couldn’t stand it Bevil has been good to me. He brought me here, and since then I’ve been able to see that Benny was fed and clothed. I longed to come back, but I couldn’t face it, Harriet. But when I’m not here, Benny must go to Menfreya.

“Now, Harriet, this is my dying wish .,. as they say. Take my boy and bring him up as yours. Don’t let anyone else have him, and think of me when he needs you. Remember it’s Gwennan who needs you, Harriet … then as now. He is Benedict Menfrey. Remember that Let him be known by his true name; and if you and Bevil should fail to have a child, then Menfreya will be his by right.

“I had hoped to see you before I died, but then I cannot be sure when my time will come. It might be suddenly and, like the foolish virgin (for the adjective certainly applies to me if not the noun), I should be caught without oil in my lamp, so that I should leave my boy stumbling on alone in the darkness.

“Harriet we were very close, weren’t we? I know you were always a better friend to me titan I to you. That is why I am asking you to do this for me now. And I am happy to go now that I have written this letter, for I trust you.

“My love to you, my dearest friend.

Gwennan.”

For a few moments I couldn’t speak. The proprietress of the hotel tiptoed out and left me alone. Gwennan was dead. I was terribly unhappy yet angry. It need not have happened, I kept telling myself. If she had married Harry she would be alive now. It was not as though there had been a grand passion between her and Benedict Bellairs. She had acted once too often in her wild irresponsible way, and now this lovely, vital girl was dead.

And Bevil? I had misjudged Bevil and felt sick with shame. How stupid I had been! Impetuous, foolish, suspicious. How he must have despised me for that I And yet I was glad because he had not been unkind. He had tried to bring her back, and it was she who had refused to come.

I folded the letter, put it into the pocket of my coat and went out into the hall. The proprietress, who had been waiting outside, brightened when she saw that I had pulled myself together.

“And the child,” I said, “where is he?”

“Ill take you to him.”

I nodded.

“First,” she said, “would you like to see her?”

I hesitated. How would she look hi death, my proud and lovely Gwennan? I thought of the shock I had received the last time I had seen her. I did not want to remember her like that.

“She looks at peace,” she murmured.

So I followed her up to the room in which Gwennan had lived since Bevil had taken her from her poor lodging. It was small, rather dark, but neat and clean. She lay on the bed, looking different, but her tawny hair was brilliant against the pallor of her skin. But what struck me so much was the serene expression on her face. I had never seen her look like that before. My eyes went to the blotter on the little table. The lid of the inkpot in the stand was open; the pen was lying across the blotter, and I pictured her sitting there writing the letter to me.

Gwennan, I thought, you can rely on me, no matter what happens.

I turned and we went out of the room.

“I had her laid out,” said the proprietress. “I suppose her family will see that everything is taken care of.”

“Yes,” I said. “Her brother—my husband—will come as soon as he receives the letter. I came in response to a letter from her. He does not know yet, but as soon as I return he will … besides he will soon have your letter.”

She nodded. ‘This sort of thing is so upsetting to the rest of the residents. I know you will understand.”

“I do.”

“And the child?” she asked anxiously.

“I will take him back with me.”

“I am sure that will be the best possible arrangement I'll take you to him now.”

He was sitting on a red hearthrug thoughtfully examining the toes of his little boots when I opened the door. A young girl was sitting in a chair watching him.

She smiled at me. “He’s been as good as gold,” she said.

I went over and knelt down on the hearthrug. There was no question about this one’s being a Menfrey. He had the same tawny hair and eyes; and the sparkle was there in his eyes. He couldn’t have been more than a year old, but he was bright for his age.

“Hello, Benny,” I said.

“Hello.”

“I’m Aunt Harriet.”

He nodded. “Aunt Harriet” He had no difficulty with the name, which told me that he had heard it before.

He gripped my arm to help himself up; then he came close to me and studied me intently. I looked at the smooth skin, the short nose, a replica of Gwennan’s with its flaring nostrils. I would never forget Gwennan while there was her son to remind me.

“Are you coming with me?” I asked.

He nodded, his eyes immediately sparkled with the spirit of adventure, which had been the characteristic and perhaps the ruin of his mother.

“We’re going to Menfreya,” I said.

His lips formed the name with ease, and I knew he had heard that before too.

“It’s time we were going,” I told him.

My return could not have been more dramatic. I had managed to get a fly at Menfrey stow station, but it was almost eight o’clock when I reached Menfreya and there was beginning to be great concern about my absence. I might have gone out during the afternoon without saying where, but I should most certainly be back in time for dinner.

Bevil had invited guests and dinner was about to be served—Lady Menfrey was there fortunately to play hostess, but of course they were expecting to see me.

I could sense the tension as I stumbled into the house, carrying the sleeping child in my arms.

I heard Pengelly’s startled exclamation; and suddenly it seemed that Bevil, my parents-in-law and their guests had all appeared on the staircase.

Often I recall that scene with a smile. It must have seemed like a nightmare. The truant returned—not alone but carrying a child in her arms.

I heard Bevil’s voice. “Harriet! What hi God’s name ...”

I said: “Gwennan is dead. I’ve brought her baby home.”

Lady Menfrey came running down the stairs. “Harriet… Harriet… what do you mean?”

Bevil was beside me; I was aware of strange faces; but I was so exhausted by the journey, by my emotions, by my fears for the child’s reception that I felt I could endure little more.

“You’ll be hearing tomorrow,” I said to Bevil. “There’s a letter from the hotel where she is. She died this morning. He’s to be called Benedict Menfrey. That is her wish.”

Lady Menfrey took the child from my arms; the tears were running down her cheeks, but I could see that she would love the child—already she had someone to fill Gwennan’s place in her heart It must have been what Gwennan had hoped for.

“You’re exhausted,” said Bevil sharply.

“It’s been an exhausting day …”

“We have guests,” he said, not sharply but in a bewildered way.

“I’m sorry,” I replied.

A woman whom I knew as the wife of one of the party workers took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you worry about us, Mrs. Menfrey. You need to rest … now.”

I smiled at her gratefully, and Bevil said: “You should go straight to bed, Harriet” He turned to the guests. “Please excuse me for a moment”

He followed me to our room. He shut the door and I waited for the storm to burst. What had I done? I had jeopardized his chances. The scandal Gwennan had brought on the family would now be publicly known—and it was all my fault.

I felt the stubborn lines forming about my mouth. I held my head high and limped painfully to the bed. I sat there looking at him.

“There was nothing else to be done,” I said hi a cold, angry voice. “I should never think of doing anything else.”

And then I thought of Gwennan lying on that bed, white and calm in death as she had never been in life, and I covered my face with my hands.

I felt him take them very gently in his. “Harriet,” he said; and his voice was tender.

“Dead!” I said. “Gwennan! She was always so full of life.”

He did not speak but looked at me sorrowfully.

“The child is going to stay here,” I went on, forcing anger into my voice to hide my grief. “I shall look after him. And if you won’t have him here, then … I shall take him away.”

“Harriet, what are you saying?”

I tried to draw my hands away from his grasp for I was afraid of my emotions. It was too much to endure. Gwennan dead … never to see her again … and Bevil hating me because I had gone against his wishes and brought the child to Menfreya.

He put his arm about me and held me against Mm. “Of course, the child will stay here. And so will you. Listen to me, Harriet Menfrey, you think you’ve married a brute … perhaps you have. And I’ll tell you this. There is one thing he won’t endure. That is life without you … so get that into your head.”

“Oh, Bevil, Bevil,” I said weakly.

He just held me and I felt comforted.

He was practical suddenly.

“I’m going to send Fanny to you,” he said. “My mother is looking after the boy. There’s nothing to worry about” He kissed me. “You must know that”

He left me and went back to our guests who, I was sure, would be agog with curiosity. I wondered what story he was telling them, but I was too tired to care.

Fanny came to me, and I let her help me to bed; when I was there I lay back on my pillows quietly, and although I was relieved because I had brought the child to Menfreya, thinking of Gwennan brought a sadness which was like a physical pain.

Benedict’s presence was easily explained at Menfreya. Gwennan had eloped with an actor, whom she had married against the family’s wishes; she had died, and now her son was at Menfreya, which was a perfectly natural state of affairs. The boy was known as Benedict Menfrey, which was just like the Menfreys. It wasn’t the first time the family name had been retained. There had been a daughter who bad inherited the estate, and when she married, her husband had to change his name.

It was a house of mourning, and when I humbly told Bevil how sorry I was for misjudging him, he said: “You were right in a way, Harriet. I should have insisted she come home.”

William Lister, that silent-footed and efficient young man, who had the great quality of seeming to remain unnoticed except when he was wanted, went to Plymouth with Bevil and between them they made arrangements for the funeral; and Gwennan was buried in the Menfrey vault in the churchyard on the hill just outside Menfrey stow.

The child made a difference to the household, and he was soon a great favorite with his grandparents and most of the servants. Lady Menfrey was happier than I had seen her for a long tune, and I realized how deeply she had felt the loss of her daughter.

Benny asked now and then for his mother, but we told him she had gone away and that was why he was staying with us. Sometimes he cried for her; then we would think up little treats to comfort him, and gradually we began to divert his thoughts from the past Menfreya was full of delights such as he had never known before. The house was a continual source of wonder; the suits of armor, the old pictures and tapestries. Benny had never seen anything like it He seemed to be everyone’s pet. He struck up an immediate friendship with his grandfather and Bevil; he was so obviously one of them.

There was great excitement when Lord Salisbury died and a crisis arose over Protectionist proposals. Bevil came home demanding to know where I was.

I was actually dressing for dinner, and he came bursting into the bedroom.

He told me what had happened.

“It may mean an election in the near future. Then we should have to go into battle in earnest”

“We shall win, of course.”

He sat down on the bed and taking my hands pulled me down beside him.

“You like a fight, don't you?” he said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Ah, but when a fight has to be fought you go into it In full cry.”

“Shouldn’t one?”

“Of course. You fight the good fight with all your might Twice armed is he who has his quarrel just Is that right?

You should know. Harriet, are you looking forward to our fight?”

“I’m determined to see you victorious.”

He laughed. “Spoken like a good and virtuous wife. You know, Harriet, my darling, a good wife is more valuable than rubies. It says so in the Bible.”

“The Menfreys had an opportunity to put that to the test”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m thinking of the table with the rubies missing from the top. I was told they were used one by one, and when they had disappeared, the Menfreys were obliged to seek rich wives.”

“Who told you that story?”

“Gwennan, I think.”

“Poor Gwennan! Still, the boy’s here.”

Tin so ashamed when I think of the conclusions I jumped to.”

He laughed at me. “Well, I didn’t behave very well either. And I’ll tell you something that came out of that Harriet. Beast that. I was, and even more loathsome beast that you believed me to be, you still love me.”

“Well, idiot that I was …”

“You’re right,” he said. “I still love you,”

He kissed me hard on the lips, and I said: “Please no bruises. Fanny noticed.”

He frowned. “That woman doesn’t like me, Harriet.”

“Oh, she’s only mildly disapproving. I’m her child, remember. She doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for me.”

“She may be right. And as long as I have your approval, what do others matter? I need it my darling. Now we have to fight an election together. My formidable Harriet. You’re going to be very busy hi the next few months, years perhaps. Too busy to spend your days entirely looking after young Benny.”

“His grandmother will be ready to step into the breach.”

“She’s not always well, and I was saying to her that I thought it was time we had a nursery governess.”

“She agreed with you, of course.”

He grinned at me. “It’s obvious, you know. I need you more than Benny does.”

I was so happy to be wanted that I couldn’t hide the fact.

After that there was talk about the governess we would get Both Sir Endelion and Lady Menfrey thought it was an excellent idea. They doted on the boy and were very anxious to have the best for him, but nothing was done about it, and I fancied Lady Menfrey was not very eager that we should get someone quite so soon.

“He’s young yet,” she said, for she enjoyed looking after him herself.

Sir Endelion went to London for a visit to friends, and it must have been two or three weeks after his return when he received a letter. He did not say anything about it immediately, but it was clear that something had happened which amused him. He kept chuckling to himself, and one evening at dinner he made an announcement.

“While you’ve been talking about what you’ll do, I have gone into action,” he said. “I’ve found you your nursery governess.”

We all looked at him, but he was intent on watching Pengelly pour the claret into his glass.

Bevil was smiling. I guessed he was pleased, because it had been his idea in the first place that Benedict should have a governess and leave me free to help him.

Sir Endelion waved a hand. “You’ll be surprised,” he said.

“You mean, Endelion, that you have engaged a governess?”

“That’s what I said, my dear.”

“But how could you know what qualifications and er …”

“I’ve no doubt that this one is going to give great satisfaction.”

“But really…”

“You wait. She’s coming at the end of the week.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“You will, my dear.”

Lady Menfrey looked uneasy. Bevil met my eye and grinned. “It’s what we want,” he said.

“But such an odd way …” began Lady Menfrey.

“She wanted the job; we had it Simple as that,” said Sir Endelion.

He kept laughing to himself.

“You wait and see,” he said.

Bevil and I rode over to Lansella; it was one way of exercising the horses, enjoying a ride and combining this with business.

It had been a busy morning, and as we rode home we discussed the queries which always seemed so amusing in retrospect.

Lady Menfrey called to us as we came into the house.

“She’s come. She’s here now. You’ll never guess. I was never more surprised.”

“A guest for luncheon?” I asked.

“Oh… no. The nursery governess.”

We hurried in and as we were about to mount the staircase she appeared at the top of it She was standing there above us, her beautiful oval face composed, dressed in dove gray; plain almost to severity, it only served to show her perfections. Her features were perfectly modeled, Grecian and classical; her dark hair waved loosely about her well-shaped head; her blue eyes were long, deep-lidded and blacklashed. She smiled, and it was her smile which alarmed me. It was so gentle and yet so full of wisdom . .. which later I thought of as cunning.

She said: “You look surprised. Sir Endelion came to the house where I was working, and I had an opportunity of speaking to him. I had heard about the little boy. One does hear these things. And when I knew you were looking for a nursery governess, I told him I should like the post”

I felt numb with apprehension, and as Jessica Trelarken slowly descended the stairs I felt my contentment fading away. I dared not look at Bevil for fear I should understand too much. I remembered how be had in the first place suggested we look for a nursery governess. Had he planned then to bring Jessica into the house? I remembered his attitude when Sir Endelion had made his announcement. Had he known then? Had he asked his father to invite Jessica to the house?

The future seemed very uneasy. I knew that life at Menfreya would change for me when Jessica Trelarken came into it.