“It was Cousin Mary’s wish that I should inherit,” I said. “She taught me a great deal about the management of the estate.”
“It seems wrong for a woman,” put in Aunt Imogen.
“For you too then?” I asked.
“I have a husband.”
Poor Uncle Harold! He looked at me apologetically.
“I can assure you, Aunt Imogen, that the estate, far from suffering under the management of Cousin Mary, improved considerably. I intend that it shall continue to do so under mine.”
I thought Uncle Harold was going to break into applause, but he remembered the presence of Aunt Imogen in time.
I said: “I am anxious about Olivia. She does not seem well.”
“She is in a delicate condition,” Aunt Imogen reminded me.
“Even so, she seems rather weak.”
“She was never strong.”
“Where is her husband?”
“He will be here soon, I imagine.”
“Is he out every night?”
“He has business.”
“I should have thought he would have wanted to be with his wife at such a time.”
“My dear Caroline,” said Aunt Imogen with a little laugh, “you have lived with Cousin Mary, a spinster, and you are one yourself. Such do not know very much about the ways of husbands.”
“But I do know something about the consideration of one human being towards another.”
I enjoyed sparring with Aunt Imogen and having Uncle Harold looking on like some referee who would like to give the points to me if he dared.
Her attitude towards me amused me. She disapproved of me, but as a woman of property I had risen considerably in her estimation; and although she deplored the fact that I had taken Tressidor from its rightful owner, she admired me for doing so.
But I could see that I should not get any real understanding of Olivia’s state of health from her, and I decided that in the morning I would question Miss Bell.
I retired to bed soon after that, but I did not expect to sleep.
I could not throw off my melancholy.
I had just emerged from the tragedy of Cousin Mary’s death to be presented with the possibility of Olivia’s. But she had let her imagination run on, I tried to assure myself. She just had pre-confinement nerves, if there were such things, and I was sure there were. To face such an ordeal so soon after having gone through the whole thing such a short while before was enough to frighten anyone … especially someone as nervous as Olivia.
I tossed and turned and found myself going through all the drama of Cousin Mary’s accident, and then coming back to Olivia.
It was a wretched night.
In the morning I came face to face with Jeremy. He looked as debonair as ever.
“Why, Caroline,” he cried, “how wonderful to see you!”
“How are you?” I replied coldly, implying that the question was merely rhetorical and that I had no interest in the answer.
“Much the same as ever. And you?”
“The same. I wish I could say that of Olivia.”
“Oh well, in the circumstances … She’ll be all right.”
“I feel uneasy about her.”
“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know much about these occasions, would you?”
“No. But I do know when people look ill.”
He smiled at me. “It is so sweet of you to concern yourself. Congratulations by the way.”
“On what?”
“On your inheritance, of course. What an extraordinary thing! Who would have thought …”
“Certainly not you. I confess it was a surprise to me.”
“To fall right into your lap like that.”
His eyes were shining with admiration as they looked at me and I was carried right back to the days of our courtship. With the aura of affluence I now must look as desirable to him as I had then when he had thought of my fortune as well as my person.
“Cousin Mary and I were very close to each other,” I said. “Her death has been a great blow to me.”
“Of course.” His expression changed; now he was all concern and sympathy. “A great tragedy. Riding accident, wasn’t it? I do feel for you, Caroline.”
He was adept at expressing emotion. His face fitted into the right lines. Now he was very sympathetic, but in my newly acquired wisdom I saw the acquisitive lights shining through.
It amused me to think that he was contemplating my fortune and I wondered how Olivia’s was faring in his hands.
“I hear you enjoy the gaming tables,” I said maliciously.
“How did you hear this?”
“Oh, I have friends.”
“You heard that in Cornwall!”
“No. Well, visitors from London, you know.”
“Oh.” He was puzzled. “Who doesn’t like a flutter? I could take you along while you are here.”
“It is not the sort of thing that appeals to me. I like to keep what I have.”
“You could add to it.”
“I might not have that success and I should not care very much if I won and on the other hand I should hate to lose. You see, I should be a very poor gambler.”
“All the same, I’d like you to come along … just for once.”
“I’m here to see Olivia. I shouldn’t have time. I shan’t be able to stay very long.”
“No. You have your responsibilities. Shall you keep the estate?”
“What do you mean?”
“I wondered if you might sell out and come back to London.”
“The whole point of my having it is for me to carry on as before.”
“Well, who knows? I’m so glad you’re here, Caroline. I have been thinking a lot about you.”
“I am sure you have been … when you heard of my inheritance.”
“I always did.”
“Well, I must go now to Olivia.”
I passed on. And I thought: He hasn’t changed. He is very good-looking, very charming—and very interested in my inheritance.
A few days passed and I was with Olivia most of the time. I found comfort being with her as this took me away from memories of Cousin Mary’s death. I found I could laugh a little. She was very interested in Jamie McGill and asked many questions about him. I tried to remember all I could of his eccentric ways and I talked at some length about the bees and the animals he looked after.
She said: “How I should love to see him.”
“You shall come down and stay … you and Livia and the new baby. You shall spend the whole of the summer there. Why not? It’s mine now. Not that Cousin Mary wouldn’t have welcomed you.”
“Oh, I should like that, Caroline.”
Then I talked about what we would do. I told her of the old mine and the legends about it and how it was said to be haunted. “We’d ride out to it, Olivia. You’d love the moor. It’s wild … in a way, untamed. I suppose it is because it can’t be cultivated … the stones, and the little streams and the gorse and all the Cornish legends—knackers and piskies and ghosts. We’d have a wonderful time. Oh, Olivia, you are going to come. Perhaps I’ll take you back with me.”
“I should love it, Caroline.”
“What about your husband?” I looked at her sharply. I had scarcely mentioned him since my arrival. Nor had she. Perhaps she thought that as I had once nearly married him, he was not a subject I should care to discuss.
“Oh, Jeremy … he wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”
“He wouldn’t want to lose his family, would he?”
“He’d be all right.”
“Perhaps he would want to come, too.”
“Oh … he’s not really a country person.”
No, I thought. He likes the gaiety of town, the gaming clubs, the hostesses … Oh, definitely not a country person.
I went on planning what we should do. “Too late for the midsummer bonfires,” I said. “Well, that’s for next year. You’re going to make an annual thing of your visits, you know.”