I had written to Cousin Mary and told her that my mother was about to get married. She wrote back with enthusiasm. I must come as soon as I could.
I had also written to Olivia.
Her wedding would soon take place and she hinted that she would be very happy if I came. But that was something I could not do. Since Paul had come back into my life I felt less bitter about Jeremy—but I did not think I could face seeing him married to my sister.
Olivia understood. Her letters were cautious. She did not want to say too much about her happiness, but it shone through. I sincerely hoped that she would not be disillusioned, but I did not see how she could fail to be.
I went to Paris for my mother’s wedding and I stayed in a hotel with her and Everton for a few days, as Alphonse thought that my mother should not be under his roof until after the ceremony.
Alphonse had not exaggerated; there was no doubt that he was a very wealthy man. As for my mother, she looked younger and more beautiful every day. She was now attired like a lady of fashion and Alphonse was so proud of her that I hoped he would never discover her somewhat shallow and selfish nature.
I decided that I would leave France the day after the ceremony although Alphonse said the house was at my disposal for as long as I wished; and if at any time I wanted to make my home with them, I was welcome.
I thought that very generous of him and told him so.
“My dear, you are the daughter of my dearest wife. This is your home.”
I told him he was charming and I meant it. And I marvelled at my mother’s good fortune.
They went to Italy for their honeymoon. I saw them off on the train, my mother attracting glances of admiration from passers-by and Everton struggling with all the bandboxes, feverishly counting the cases, as happy as my mother to say goodbye to what they called penury.
Affluence suited them both.
I would cross the Channel and take the night train to Cornwall.
At last I was on my way.
THE LOST ILLUSION
Seated in the train, watching the countryside rushing past, it was inevitable that I should recall that other occasion. It all came back so vividly. I could almost see Miss Bell sitting opposite me, making sure that I should profit from everything which came my way. I even remembered the two ladies who had left us at Plymouth although I had forgotten what they looked like.
I could remember so clearly that apprehension, that bewilderment, the terrifying experience of being wrenched away from all that was familiar, and being thrust without much warning into a new life. I could laugh now at my fears of Cousin Mary the ogress, the harpy, who had turned out to be so different from my imaginings.
Crossing the Brunei bridge, looking down at the ships below, I was seeing those two, Paul and Jago, and laughing to myself at the memory of Miss Bell who had disapproved of their addressing us. That was the beginning, I thought.
When I alighted there was Joe waiting for me in the trap just as he had five years before.
“My patience me,” was his greeting, “I wouldn’t have known ‘ee, Miss Caroline. You’m grown a bit since I last did see ‘ee.”
“It’s the usual thing, you know,” I replied. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“A few more of the white hairs, Miss Caroline, a wrinkle or two I shouldn’t wonder. Travelling alone this time you be. Last time it was that governess woman. A bit of a Tartar she was.”
“As you say, Joe, I’ve grown up.”
Then we were rattling along. No need to warn me this time of the “bony” road. I knew it well. Everything was agreeably familiar.
I said: “It looks exactly the same.”
“Nothing much changed down here, Miss Caroline.”
“People change.”
“Oh … ah! They do grow older.”
“More white hairs, more wrinkles,” I said.
“You get along with ‘ee, Miss Caroline.” He began to laugh. “My missus was saying Miss Tressidor be right glad you’m coming.”
“Oh, did she? That’s a nice welcome.”
“She took to you, Miss Tressidor did. My missus says t’aint right for women to be all alone in this world. They want a husband and children … that’s what they do want. So my missus says.”
“She should know, having acquired both.”
“Well, yes, Miss Caroline, there be our Amy married to the wheelwright over Bolsover way and our Willy he’s doing well at Squire Trevithick’s place near Launceston. Then there’s our Jimmy who went out to Australia … caused us a bit of trouble, our Jimmy did.”
“You can’t expect everything to work out smoothly, can you?”
” ‘Tis something a man looks for, and I sometimes says to my missus, ‘Well, there be Amy and Willy … and we don’t see so much of them … and there be Jimmy in Australia.’ And there’s my missus herself … She keeps a tight hand on me. Sometimes I says to her, ‘Maybe the old maids ‘as the right idea.’ That’s if they’re placed comfortable like Miss Tressidor.”
“People make their own way in life,” I said. “The art is to be content with what you have.”
I thought I sounded just like Miss Bell.
Then I laughed and went on: “This is a very serious conversation, Joe. What’s been happening here at Lancarron?”
“There’s been tidy changes at Landower. The family be back there now.”
“Yes, I heard. What changes, Joe?”
“Well, smart as a new pin, that’s what. My patience me, there was workmen there all over the place … on the roof … banging and scraping. Nothing much wrong with Landower Hall now, I can tell ‘ee. The old gentleman died, you know. That must be well nigh a year ago.
But he saw the place righted afore he went, which made his passing easy, they say. And Mr. Paul, he be the master now. Oh, there’s changes, I can tell ‘ee.”
“For the better obviously.”
“You could say that and all … There be unease, Miss Caroline, on an estate what’s going downhill. Don’t I know it? And it was like that … for years it was like that. Not now though. Mind you, they’m on their toes. It were different with the old gentleman … that it were. It were the tables with him … gambling the night away. That and the wine and the women, they do say. There’s been wildness at Landower. My gran’fer could tell some tales and he did and all. That Mr. Jago now.”
“What of Mr. Jago? I remember him well. He was only a boy when I was here before.”
“He be a man now all right.” Joe started to chuckle. “Well, least said soonest mended.”
Before I could probe further we had come to the lodge house.
There it was, the same as ever, the thatched roof, the neat garden, the flowers and, of course, the bees.
And there was Jamie McGill—plaid cap, plaid breeches and a gamekeeper type of coat edged with leather.
His face lit up with pleasure when he saw me.
“Miss Caroline!” he said.
“Oh, Jamie, it’s good to see you. Is all going well?”
“Indeed it is, Miss Caroline. I heard you were coming and pleased I am.”
“Did you tell the bees?”
“They knew something was in the air. They’re as pleased as I am. They remember you well.”
“I hadn’t expected a welcome from them!”
“They know. They have their likes and dislikes and you’re one of their likes.”
“Jamie, I shall come and call … soon.”
“I’ll look forward to that with pleasure, Miss Caroline.”
The trap moved on down the drive.
“A strange fellow he be, Jamie McGill,” mused Joe. “My missus says she reckons something happened to him. Crossed in love, she reckons.”