"Fond of some of us," said Alison significantly.
Evan Callum came down to stay at Giza House with the Traverses. I believe he was invited quite often to Keverall Court.
He called at the rectory to see me and we had a very interesting talk. He told me I had been his most promising pupil and it was a great shame that I had not been able to take up the subject in earnest.
Miss Graham found another post and left; and then lessons were over. It was quite clear that I was never going to be a musician; but I didn't need that excuse now to go to Giza House. I could go into the library there and select books and if they were not some of Sir Edward's precious ones, I could take them home.
I saw very little of Theodosia now. There were many parties at Keverall Court to which naturally I was not invited; and there was entertaining at Giza too which was quite different—although Tybalt and his father often went to Keverall and Sir Ralph and Lady Bodrean visited Giza —but I gathered from Tabitha that there were dinner parties when the conversation sparkled and of course it centered round the work of those guests—this fascinating absorption with the past.
Life was quite changed for me. I did some of the parish visiting with Dorcas and Alison. I took flowers from the garden to the sick; I read to those whose eyesight was failing; I took food to the bedridden and went off to the town to shop for them in the little trap we called the jingle —a two-wheeled vehicle drawn by our own Jorrocks, who was something between a horse and a pony.
I was settling down to becoming the typical rectory daughter. That Christmas Oliver and I brought in the yule log and I made the Christmas bush with Alison and Dorcas.
This consisted of two wooden hoops fastened one into the other at right angles and we decorated this framework with evergreens—an old Cornish custom which we continued to follow rather than have the Christmas tree which, said some of the old folk, was a foreign invention. I went carol singing and when we called at Keverall Court we were invited in for hot pasties and saffron cake and a sip from the great wassailing bowl. I saw Theodosia and Hadrian in the great hall and I felt a nostalgia for the old days.
Soon after that Christmas we had a frosty snap—rare with us. The branches of trees were white with hoar frost and the children could even skate on the ponds. The Reverend James caught a cold and this was followed by a heart attack; and although he recovered slightly, within a week he was dead.
Dorcas and Alison were heartbroken. To me he had been remote for a long time. He had spent so much time in his bedroom; and even when he was in a room with us he scarcely spoke so it was like not having him there at all.
Cook said it was a Happy Release, because the poor Reverend Gentleman would never have been himself again.
And so the rectory blinds were drawn down and the day came when bells tolled and we lowered the Reverend James Osmond into the grave which Mr. Pegger had dug for him and then we went back to the rectory to eat cold ham and mourn.
Fear of the future mingled with the grief of Alison and Dorcas; but they were expectant, looking to me and to Oliver to bring about the obvious solution.
I shut myself in my room and thought about it. They wanted me to marry Oliver, who would become the rector in the Reverend James Osmond's place and we could all go on living under this roof as before.
How could I marry Oliver? I couldn't marry anyone but Tybalt. How could I tell Dorcas and Alison that? Moreover it was only in my wild and improbable dreams that that happy state of affairs could come about. I wanted to explain to them: I like Oliver. I know he is a good man. But you don't understand. I only have to say Tybalt's name and my heart beats faster. I know that he is unaware of me ... in that way. I know that they will think marriage with Theodosia a good match—but I can't help it.
Oliver had changed since he had become rector. He was as kind as ever to us; but of course, as Dorcas said to Alison, unless something was arranged, they and I would have to move out.
Quite suddenly something was arranged. Poor Alison! Poor Dorcas!
It was Alison who broached the subject. I think Oliver had been trying to but was too kind to do so for fear it would appear that he was asking them to leave.
Alison said: "Now that we have a new rector it is time for us to go."
He looked very relieved, then he said: "I want to talk to you. I'm thinking of marrying."
Dorcas's eyes shone as though she were the bride-to-be.
"I could not of course ask the lady until I had something to offer her. And now I have . . . and I am indeed fortunate. She has accepted me as her future husband."
Alison was looking at me reproachfully. You might have told us! she was implying—so I couldn't have shown her how startled I was.
Oliver went on: "Miss Sabina Travers has promised to marry me."
We congratulated him—I wholeheartedly, Dorcas and Alison in a bewildered way.
As soon as I went to my room I knew they would come to me. They stood looking at me—dismay and anger on their faces.
"To think that all this time he was deceiving us."
"You are not being fair," I protested. "How has he deceived us?"
"Leading us to think . . ."
"But he did no such thing. Sabina! Well, yes, there was always a sort of rapport between them. She wasn't any better at Latin and Greek than I, but she's very pretty and feminine. And I think she'll do quite well as the rector's wife."
"She's far too frivolous. I don't think she's capable of carrying on a serious conversation."
"She'll be wonderful with the parishioners. She'll never be at a loss for words and she'll be able to listen to all their troubles without really hearing them. Think what an asset that will be."
"Judith, you don't seem to care!" cried Alison.
Dorcas said: "There's no need to put on a brave face with us, dear."
I burst out laughing. "Listen to me, both of you. I wouldn't have married Oliver if he'd asked me. He's been too much like my brother. I'm fond of him; I like Sabina. Do believe me when I say I could never have married him, convenient as it would have been."
Then I went to them and hugged them both, the way I used to do when I was younger.
"Dear Dorcas and dear Alison, I'm so sorry. It's the end of the old life. We've got to leave the rectory. But even if I had been willing, Oliver had other plans, hadn't he?"
They were touched as always by my demonstrations of affection.
"Oh, it's not that," said Dorcas. "We were thinking of your happiness."
"And that could not be here," I said. Then I added: "Just think. Oliver and Sabina! Why he'll be Tybalt's brother-in-law!"
They looked at me in surprise as though to say What has that to do with our predicament?
Then Alison said: "Well, what we have to do is to start making plans at once."
So we made our plans.
The Reverend James Osmond had left very little money; there would be the tiniest of incomes for his daughters, but if they could find a reasonable cottage they could just about manage to exist.
As for me, I was dependent on them. They were happy to share everything they had with me but it would be far from an affluent existence.
"But it was always intended that I should be equipped to work if need be," I said.
"Well," admitted Dorcas, "that was one of the reasons why we were so pleased to be able to give you such a good education."
"We might hear of something congenial," suggested Alison.
It was no use sitting down waiting to hear. I promised myself and them that as soon as they were settled in their new home I would go and find a post.
I was uneasy—not at the prospect of working but of leaving St. Erno's. I pictured myself in some household far away from Giza House when I should quickly be forgotten by its inhabitants. And what should I do? Become a governess like Miss Graham? It was the kind of post for which I was most suited. Perhaps as I had had a classical education more advanced than most rectory girls, I might teach in a girls' school. It would be less stultifying than working in some household where I was not considered worthy to mix with the family and yet was that little bit above the servants, which made it impossible for them to accept me. What was there for a young well-educated woman to do in this day and age?