Bride of Pendorric (28 page)

I had a notion that he was not impressed with the idea, and I shelved it for the time being, but I was determined not to give it up easily.

I often called on Jesse Pleydell, who always seemed delighted to see me apart from the tobacco I took him. Mrs. Penhalligan said I kept him supplied and he was grateful, though my visits meant as much to him as the tobacco.

I shall never forget that September day, because it brought the beginning of the real terror which came into my life, and it was at this time that I began to understand how the pleasant picture had changed piece by piece until I was confronted with the cruel lest of suspicions and horror.

The day began normally enough. In the morning I went down to Mrs.

Robinson’s and bought the tobacco. Knowing that I was going, Deborah asked me to buy some hairpins for her, and Morwenna asked me to bring some bass she needed for tying up plants. I met Rachel and the twins as I was setting out; they were going on a nature ramble, so they all three walked with me as far as the shop. When I came back I met Roe and Charles going off to the home farm together.

But I didn’t leave for the cottages until after tea, and when I arrived Jesse was sitting at his door catching the last of the sun. I sat beside him talking for a while, and because I thought it was getting a little chilly I went inside with him and he made me a cup of tea. It was something he enjoyed doing, and I knew better than to offer to help. While we sat drinking the thick brew, Jesse talked of the old days and how the Pendorric gardens had looked in his time. ” Ah, madam, you should have been here forty years ago … that was the time. I had four men working under me all the time, and the flowers in the cliff garden was a picture … a real picture.” He would go on and on in this strain, and because he enjoyed it I encouraged him to do so. I learned a good deal about life at Pendorric forty or fifty years ago when Jesse was in his prime. It was a more leisurely life, but even so the beginning of change bad set in.

” Now when I were a boy things were different.”

That would have been about eighty years ago. Very different indeed, I thought.

” There was no talk then of not being able to keep up like,” mused Jesse. ” There was no thought that things ‘ud ever be different from what they always had been. Polhorgan House wasn’t here then—nor thought of—and all Polhorgan meant to us was the little old cove down there.”

I listened dreamily, staying rather longer than I had intended, and it was six o’clock when I rose to go.

It was always gloomy in the cottage on account of the small latticed windows, so I hadn’t noticed how dark it had grown. The sea mist had been lurking in the air all day, but now it had thickened. It was warm and sea-scented and not by any means unpleasant; it hung in patches and in some spots was really thick. It was especially so near the church; and as I paused at the lych gate to look at the gravestones with the mist swirling about them, thinking how strangely picturesque everything was, I heard it; it seemed to be coming from inside the graveyard—singing in that strange, high voice, which was slightly out of tune.

” How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff And his sandal shoon.”

My heart began to beat fast; my hand on the lych gate trembled. I looked about me, but I seemed to be alone with the mist. Someone was in there singing, and I had to find out who, so I opened the lych gate and went into the graveyard. I was determined to know who it was who sang in that strange voice, and because I was sure that it was someone from the house, instinctively I made my way to the Pendorric vault. I was almost certain now that it must be Carrie. She brought wreaths for her beloved Barbarina and she would have heard her sing mat song; what more natural than that hearing it often she had learned it by heart?

It must be Carrie.

As I reached the Pendorric vault, I drew up short in astonishment because the door was open. I had never seen it open before, and was under the impression that it would never be opened except when it was prepared to receive those who had died.

I went closer and as I did so I heard the voice again. ” He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone;

At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. ” And it appeared to be coming from inside the vault. I went down the stone steps.

“Who’s there?” I called.

“Carrie. Are you in there?”

My voice sounded strange at the entrance of that dark vault.

“Carrie,” I called. ^ “Carrie.” I put my head inside and saw that four or five stone steps led down. I descended, calling: “Carrie! Carrie!

Are you there? “

There was silence. Because of the light from the open door I could see the ledges with the coffins on them; I could smell the dampness of the earth. Then suddenly I was in darkness, and for a few seconds I was so shocked and bewildered that I could not move. I could not even cry out in protest. It took me several seconds to understand that the door had closed on me and I was shut in me vault.

I gave a gasp of horror.

“Who’s there?” I cried.

“Who shut the door?”

Then I tried to find the steps, but my eyes were not yet adjusted to the darkness, and groping I stumbled and found myself sprawling up the cold stone stairs.

Frantically I picked myself up. I could make out the shape of the steps now, and I mounted them. I pushed the door but it was firmly shut and I could not move it.

For some moments, I’m afraid, I was hysterical. I hammered on the door with my fists. ” Let me out of here,” I screamed. ” Let me out of here.”

My voice sounded hollow and I knew that it would not be heard outside.

I lay against the door, trying to think. Someone had lured me into this dreadful place, someone who wanted to be rid of me. How long could I live here? But I should be missed. Roe would miss me. He would come to look for me.

” Roe!” I called. ” Oh … Roe … come quickly.”

I covered my face with my hands. I did not want to look about me. I was suddenly afraid of what I might see, shut in this vault with the Pendorric dead. How long before I became one of them? Then I thought I heard a movement near me. I listened. Was that the sound of breathing?

The horror was deepening. I did not believe in ghosts, I tried to tell myself. But it is easy to say that when you are above ground in some sunny spot, some well-lighted room. Very different, buried alive .

among the dead!

I had never known real fear until that moment. I was clammy with sweat, my hair was probably standing on end. I did not know, because there was no room in my mind for anything but fear, the knowledge that I was locked in with the dead.

But I was not alone. I knew it. Some breathing, living thing was in this tomb with me.

I had covered my face with my hands because I did not want to see it.

I dared not see.

Then a cold hand touched mine. I screamed, and I heard myself cry: ” Barbarina!” because in that moment I believed the legend of Pendorric.

I believed that Barbarina had lured me to my tomb so that I could haunt Pendorric and she might rest in peace.

” Favel!” It was a sharp whisper and the one who said it was as frightened as I was.

“Hyson!”

” Yes, Favel. It’s Hyson.”

Floods of relief! I was not alone. There was someone to share this horrible place with me. I felt ashamed of myself, but I couldn’t help it. I had never been so glad to hear a human voice in the whole of my life.

” Hyson … what are you doing here?”

She had come up the stairs and snuggled close beside me. ” It’s … frightening … with the door shut,” she said. ” Did you do this.

Hyson? “

“Do it … do what?”

” Lock me in.”

” But I’m locked in with you.”

” How did you come to be in here?”

” I knew something was going to happen.”

“What? How?”

” I knew. I came to meet you … to see if you were all right.”

” What do you mean? How could you know?”

” I do know things. Then I heard the singing … and the door was open so I came in.”

“Before I did?”

” Only a minute before. I was hiding down at the bottom of the steps when you came in.”

” I don’t understand what it means.”

” It means Barbarina’s lured you in. She didn’t know I was here too.”

“Barbarina’s dead.”

” She can’t rest, till you take her place.”

I was recovering my calm. It was amazing what the presence of one small human being could do.

” That’s nonsense. Hyson,” I said. ” Barbarina is dead and this story of her haunting the place is just an old legend.”

” She’s waiting for a new bride to die.”

” I don’t intend to die.”

” We’ll both die,” said Hyson, almost unconcernedly; and I thought:

She knows nothing of death; she has never seen death. She had looked at the television and seen people drop to the ground. Bang! You’re dead. In a child’s mind death is quick and neat, without suffering.

One forgot that she was only a child posing as a seer.

“That’s absurd,” I said.

“We shan’t. There must be a certain amount of air coming into this place. They’ll miss us and there’ll be search parties to find us.”

” Why should they think of looking in the vault?”

” They’ll look everywhere.”

” They’ll never look in the vault.”

I was silent for a while. I was trying to think who could have done this, who had been waiting for me to leave Jesse Pleydell’s cottage and lure me to the vault with singing, like some cruel siren of the sea.

Someone who wanted me out of the way had done this. Someone who had waited for me to enter the vault and descend the stone steps, and then glided out from some hiding place and locked the door on me. I was recovering rapidly from my fear and realising that I was not afraid of human scheming; I felt myself equal to deal with that. As soon as I could rid myself of the notion that I was being lured to death by someone who was dead, I felt my natural resilience returning. I was ready to match my wits with those of another human being. I could fight the living. I said: “Someone locked the door. Who could it be?”

” It was Barbarina,” whispered Hyson.

” That’s not reasonable. Barbarina’s dead.”

” She’s in here, Favel … in her coffin. It’s on the ledge with my grandfather’s beside it. She couldn’t rest, and she wants to…. That’s why she’s locked you in here.”

“Who opened the door?”

” Barbarina.”

“Who locked the door?”

” Barbarina.”

“Hyson, you’re getting hysterical.”

“Am I?”

” You mustn’t. We’ve got to think of how we can get out of here.”

” We never shall. Why did she lock me in too? It’s like Meddlesome Matty. Granny was always warning me. I shouldn’t have come.”

” You mean that then I should have been the only victim.” My voice was grim. I was ashamed of myself. It was a terrible experience for the child; and yet it was doing me such a lot of good not to be alone. ” We shall stay here,” said Hyson, ” for ever. It’ll be like ” The Mistletoe Bough. ” When they next open the vault there’ll only be our bones, for we shall be skeletons.”

” What nonsense!”

” Do you remember the night of the ball? We all talked about it.” I was silent with a new horror, because the idea flashed into my mind that on that night when we had sat drinking soup after the ball, one member of our party may have thought of the vault as a good substitute for the old oak chest.

I shivered. Could there be any other explanation than that someone wanted me out of the way?

I gripped Hyson’s shoulder. ” Listen,” I said. ” We’ve got to find a way out of this place. Perhaps the door isn’t really locked. Who could have locked it anyway?”

” Oh, nonsense.” I stood up cautiously. ” Hyson,” I said, ” we must see what we can do,” ” She won’t let us.” ^ ” Give me your hand and we’ll see what it’s like here.”

” We know. It’s all dead people in coffins.”

” I wish I had a torch. Let’s try the door again. It may have got jammed.”

We stood on the top step and beat against it. It did not budge. ” I wonder how long we’ve been in here,” I said.

“An hour.”

” I don’t think five minutes. Time goes slowly on occasions like this.

But they’ll miss us at dinner. They’ll start searching for us in the house and then they’ll be out, searching for us. I want to look round.

There might be a grating somewhere. We might shout through that. “

” There’ll be nobody in the churchyard to hear us.”

” There might be.

And if they come looking . “

I dragged her to her feet and she cowered close to me. Then together, keeping close, we cautiously descended the steps. Hyson was shivering. “It’s so cold,” she said.

I put my arm round her and we stepped gingerly forward into the darkness. I could see vague shapes about me and I knew these to be the coffins of dead Pendorrics.

Then suddenly I saw a faint light, and feeling my way towards it discovered that there was a grating at the side of the vault. I peered through it and fancied I saw the side of a narrow trench. I knew then that a certain amount of air was coming into the vault and I felt my spirits rising. I put my face close to the grating and shouted: “Help!

We’re in the vault. Help! “

My voice sounded muffled as though it were thrown back at me, and I realised that however loudly I shouted I should not be heard unless someone were standing very close to the vault. Nevertheless I went on shouting until I was hoarse, while Hyson stood shivering beside me.

” Let’s try the door again,” I said. And we made our way slowly back to the steps. Once again we forced our weights against it and still it remained fast shut. Hyson was sobbing and bitterly cold, so I took off

my coat and wrapped it round us both. We sat side by side on that top step, our arms about each other. I tried to comfort her and tell her that we should soon be rescued, that this was quite different from the old oak chest. We had seen the grating, hadn’t we? That meant that air was coming in. All we had to do was wait for them to come and find us. Perhaps we should hear their voices. Then we would shout together. Eventually she stopped trembling, and I think she slept. I could not sleep although I felt exhausted, bitterly cold, stiff and cramped; and I sat there holding the body of the child against me, peering into the darkness, asking myself over and over again: Who has done this?