The Landower Legacy (35 page)

Gwennie’s lips were pressed tightly together. I thought there was tension between them all. Both Jago and Paul hated to have her money saving them. They should have thought of that before they took it, I thought severely.

She turned to Cousin Mary and me with a smile and indicated where we were to sit. Paul was at one end of the table, she at the other. I was on Paul’s right and Jago was next to me. Cousin Mary faced us.

As the meal was served, Cousin Mary talked a great deal about estate matters with Paul. I listened with attention and was able to offer a remark now and then. I had already learned a little and was finding it
interesting. I was desperately seeking to divert my thoughts from all the unpleasantness I had discovered.

Jago leaned towards me and said
sotto voce:
“There’s a lot for us to catch up on. I was wildly excited when I heard that you were coming and desolate when you were whisked away. It was rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was. I hated going.”

“We were such friends in that little while, were we not? What good times we had. I hope we are going on from there.”

“Oh, I daresay you have a lot to occupy you and I’m learning something about the Tressidor estate. It’s very interesting.”

“I never allow business to interfere with pleasure.”

Paul overheard that remark and said: “I assure you that this at least is one occasion when Jago speaks with sincerity.”

“You see how they treat me,” said Jago, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

“You’re treated better than you deserve,” commented Gwennie.

“Hush! Caroline will think I’m a wastrel.”

“I daresay she knows that already,” said Gwennie. “If she doesn’t, she soon will.”

“You mustn’t believe half they say of me,” said Jago to me.

“I always make my own judgements,” I assured him.

“Remember rumour is a lying jade.”

“But it is true,” said Paul, “that the most convincing rumours are founded on truth.”

“The oracle has spoken,” said Jago. “But Caroline is going to consider me from the wisdom of her own experience.”

“I always believe in saying what I mean … right out,” Gwennie put in. “No beating about the hush. Some people would tell any tale to get out of saying something that might not be polite. It’s what my father used to call the perfidy of the southerner.”

“Compared with the sterling honesty of the northerners,” added Paul.

“There’s a lot to be said for honesty,” persisted Gwennie.

“Sometimes it can be very uncomfortable,” I reminded her.

“It often happens,” said Paul, “that people who are determined to say what they mean—however displeasing it may be to others—are not quite so happy when others are equally frank with them.”

“I’m all for the comfortable life,” said Jago. “I am sure that is the best way of getting along.”

There was a certain asperity creeping into the conversation. Cousin Mary threw me a glance and started to talk about the pictures in the house.

“There was such a fine collection.”

But this was just another outlet for Gwennie’s favourite theme.

“All going to rack and ruin,” she said sharply. “There wouldn’t have been anything left of them if Pa and I hadn’t got that artist in to do them all up. My goodness, the change in this place!”

“Miraculous,” said Jago. “We have learned the meaning of miracles since Gwennie took us in hand.”

I quickly asked a question about the Landower estate and how it compared with that of Tressidor. Paul talked at length about the different problems and Cousin Mary joined in enthusiastically. Jago was also involved in the management of Landower and added a remark or two, rather desultorily, while he made several attempts to engage me in asides. I did not encourage him. I wanted to hear what Paul and Cousin Mary were saying; and I believe Gwennie did too. She was clearly something of a businesswoman.

My feelings wavered between a deep perturbation and an exhilaration. I wanted to get away one moment and the next I was eager to remain. I was trying to assess my feelings for Paul. I had thought there was no doubt of them since I had discovered his mercenary act in marrying a woman for her money—an act similar to that which had made me so bitter against Jeremy Brandon; but for some reason I could not help feeling sorry for Paul. I had already seen that his life with Gwennie was not an easy one, and that he must be paying dearly for regaining his house. Perhaps he had hoped for a simple transaction. It was far from that.

When the meal was over Gwennie, determined to observe the conventions, said she would take us ladies into the drawing room and leave the men over their port. How absurd that was, I thought, and wondered wryly what Paul and Jago would have to say to each other alone at the dining table.

In the drawing room Cousin Mary exclaimed at the wonderful restoration of the ceiling which was beautifully moulded into delicate patterns, and Gwennie was off on what I had quickly learned was her favourite subject.

“The work we had to do on this house! You’ve no idea. But I was determined to do it absolutely right. So was Pa. The cost was more than he’d bargained for. I often wondered whether Pa would have taken it on
in the first place if he’d known. When you start on a house like this you make a lot of discoveries.”

“You must have completed all the restoration by now,” I said.

“There’s always something. I’m going to start on the attics one day. I haven’t touched them yet. There’s one room I’m very interested in. It’s off the long gallery. I think there’s something behind the walls.”

“A priest’s hole or something like that?” I asked. “Were the Landowers Catholics at one time?”

“The Landowers would be anything that was best for them,” said Gwennie, with a tinge of both contempt and admiration.

“I know they crossed from Cavalier to Roundhead and back during the Civil War,” said Cousin Mary. “But they saved the house, I believe.”

“Oh, the Landowers would do a great deal to save the house,” said Gwennie with an expression which hovered between triumph and bitterness.

We seemed to come back and back again to that unfortunate subject.

“I’ll tell you what,” she went on. “I’ll show you this room. See what you think of it. You’ve lived in Tressidor all your life, Miss Tressidor. You must know a great deal about old houses.”

“I know a great deal about Tressidor. All houses are different.”

“Well, come and look.”

“Won’t the men wonder where we have gone?”

“They’ll guess, I reckon. That room’s my favourite project just now. It’s off the long gallery. Come on.”

She took a lighted candle and led the way.

She turned to me. “May I call you Caroline? We’re much of an age. And two Miss Tressidors makes it a little awkward.”

“Please do.”

“And I’m Gwen … but everyone calls me Gwennie. Pa started it. He said even Gwen was not the name for a little scrap. Certainly not Gwendoline, which is what I am really. It’s friendly, in a way.”

“All right, Gwennie,” I said. “I shall be very excited to see this room. Won’t you be too, Cousin Mary?”

Cousin Mary said she would indeed, and we left the drawing room.

“The nurseries are at the top of the house. Not right at the top … that’s the attics … just below the attics. Julian is fast asleep now. Otherwise I’d show him to you. He’s a lovely boy.”

“Two years old, I believe,” I said.

“Coming up to it. He was born within the year after we married. I’ll tell you what. If you like, we’ll have a quick peep at him.”

She led us up several staircases and opened a door. The room was in darkness apart from a faint glow from a night light. A woman rose from a chair.

“It’s all right, Nanny. I’ve just brought the Misses Tressidor. To show them Julian.”

The woman stepped back and nodded as we advanced into the room. Gwennie held the candle high so that the light fell on the sleeping child.

He was a beautiful boy with thick dark hair. I looked at him and felt envy because he was not mine.

“He’s beautiful,” I whispered.

Gwennie nodded, as proud as she was over the restored ceilings and all the work she had done at Landower.

He doesn’t love her, I thought. It’s obvious. She’s a source of irritation to him. But she had that beautiful child and I had not envied her until I saw him.

She led us to the door.

“Couldn’t resist showing him to you,” she said. “He’s a pet, don’t you think?”

Cousin Mary said: “A lovely boy.” And I nodded in agreement.

“Well, come on, and I’ll show you my room.” She led us down a flight of stairs and eventually we stopped before a door. “Here it is.” She opened the door. “We need more light. Here’s another candle … I always keep plenty here. I don’t like to be caught in the dark. Funny thing. Nothing else frightens me. It’s just things that are not natural. I was always like that since I was a little one. In a place like this you’d expect to find ghosts, wouldn’t you? I don’t know why I’m so fond of it.” She turned to me, her eyes luminous in the candlelight. “You wouldn’t think I was the sort to have fancies, would you?”

I shook my head.

“Well, sometimes I get this zany idea that there are ghosts in that gallery and that they were making me come here … making me bring new life to the house.”

“An odd way of doing it,” said Cousin Mary practically, “to frighten you so much that you fell over the rail and hurt yourself.”

“Yes … but up to then I thought Pa was against it. He was saying what a lot of work there was to be done. He liked the idea of living here but there would be other places in the country which
wouldn’t be in such a bad state. But when I fell I hurt myself so badly I stayed here and Pa stayed with me … and that was when the house started to … I don’t know how to say it …”

I said: “Put its tentacles about you.”

“That’s right. And they held Pa fast. And then he had this idea about Paul and me … to make it right with everyone. He always cared more for my future than his own. He was, after all, right where he planned to be … except that he wasn’t the squire. But father of the squire’s lady was good enough for him.”

“So we come to the fairy tale ending,” I said ironically; but she did not notice the touch of asperity in my voice.

“Well … things have to be worked out,” she said rather sadly, “and life is never what you think it’s going to be. Look here.” She threw the light of the candle over the walls. There was a desk in the room and a cupboard—very little else. “I don’t think they ever used this room,” she went on. “I had that cupboard moved. You see, it was over there. You can see the slightly different colour of the wall … even in this light.” She tapped the wall. “There! Can you hear the hollow sound?”

“Yes,” said Cousin Mary. “There could be something behind that.”

“I’m going to get them working on it,” said Gwennie.

I heard a sound behind us. We all started and a voice said: “Boo!”

Jago was grinning at us and Paul was just behind him.

Jago said: “I told Paul you’d be inspecting Gwennie’s latest discovery.”

Jago stepped forward and tapped the wall.

“Is anyone there?” he enquired.

He turned to smile at Gwennie. “Dear sister-in-law,” he said, “I’m only teasing. There is only one thing in the world before which that stalwart northern spirit quails—and that is ghosts. As if any of them would want to hurt the one who has saved their habitation from crumbling into decay!”

Behind his banter there was a certain malice. I thought: Both of these brothers resent her, and she is determined to remind them at every moment of what she has done. There is more than resentment in this house. There is hatred.

“We shall soon see what is behind that wall,” said Paul.

“Did no one ever wonder about it before?” I asked.

“No one.”

“Until Gwennie came,” added Jago.

“Well, there is nothing to be seen here tonight,” went on Paul.

We came out into the gallery. Paul and Cousin Mary walked on ahead. Cousin Mary was talking about a similar experience at Tressidor. “We took down a wall … oh, that was long ago … in my grandfather’s day, and all that was behind it was a cupboard.”

Gwennie joined them and began asking eager questions.

“I can’t say much about it,” said Cousin Mary. “I only heard of it. I know the spot where it was done, of course.”

I paused to look at a picture which I thought was Paul.

“Our father as a young man,” said Jago.

“He is like your brother.”

“Oh yes. That was before his dissolute days. Let us hope that Paul doesn’t go the same way. Not much hope … or fear … of that.”

“I should think it is hardly likely.”

The others had passed out of the gallery.

“He could be driven to it.”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t you noticed the way it is? Never mind. I want to show you something. It’s the view from one of the towers. It’s just through here.”