They were absolutely brokenhearted. Mrs. Pencarron kept telling everyone that she had given up hope of having a child … and then they had their little Morwenna. They would give anything … anything they had …
“If the press come round don’t tell them that,” said Uncle Peter. “The demand will go up. We will have to play this carefully.”
We were all relying on Uncle Peter. The existence of his dubious clubs from which he had made his great fortune was what my father called an open secret in the family, which meant that everyone knew of it and kept up the pretense that Uncle Peter’s business was perfectly respectable. But he would have knowledge of the underworld; all kinds of people came to his clubs; the matter would be better in his hands than anyone else’s.
He said there should not be too much said about the case until there was some notion as to what it was all about.
There must come a demand soon. The best thing for us to do was to wait for it.
It was hard. It was four days since Morwenna had disappeared and there was no news.
The Pencarrons, who had been taken off by my mother to Uncle Peter’s house where there was room for them, did not help matters. They were in a state of utter despair. If I had a chance I would tell Morwenna that she must never again think of herself as unloved. She meant everything to her parents.
Uncle Peter was making inquiries. The police were asking questions and we were all getting desperate. And then, one morning, when I was thinking, Here is another day without news, a cab drew up at the door and from it alighted Morwenna. She was not alone. A man was with her. I recognized him at once. He was Justin Cartwright, the man who had retrieved her purse when it was stolen from her.
“Morwenna!” I cried. “Where have you been?”
I was so delighted to see her that I had to stop myself from bursting into tears of relief. I hugged her to make sure she was real. I gazed at her. She looked very happy.
“Where have you been?” I demanded. “We have all been frantic.”
She turned to the man and said: “This is my husband, Angelet. I eloped with him. We were married at Gretna Green.”
The first thing I had to do was to get her to her parents and we set off immediately. As soon as the door was opened I shouted into the house: “She’s here. Morwenna’s back.”
There were exclamations of joy as, it seemed, the entire household were running into the hall. When the Pencarrons saw their daughter they flew at her and the three of them were there in a sort of huddle … just clinging to each other. There were tears in Mrs. Pencarron’s eyes. I could see her lips moving and I knew she was thanking God for giving her her daughter back. They did not ask for explanations. All they cared about was that she was back with them; she was safe and unharmed; and they were ready to forget their sufferings in the sheer joy of having her returned to them.
“Oh, Ma and Pa,” she said at last. “I didn’t think you’d be so worried.”
Then came the explanations.
“It was thoughtless of us,” said Justin Cartwright. “I take the blame. I persuaded her. She didn’t want to do it this way. But I feared objections. I could not bear the thought of losing her.”
Morwenna was smiling happily. I could not believe this. She was like a different person. She had cast off that hangdog look; she was desired, wanted; she was loved; she had had a romantic wedding and it was quite easy to see that she adored her husband.
I could have been angry with her if I was not so delighted. This was what I had always wanted for Morwenna. It was a pity she had had to put us all through such an ordeal to achieve it.
“You see,” explained Morwenna, “it all happened so suddenly.”
Justin went on humbly, looking at Mr. Pencarron, “The moment I saw your daughter I knew she was the only one for me. I fell in love at first sight. I did not believe in such things … until now. I am afraid I acted thoughtlessly. But I was overwhelmed. I had to persuade her. … You se e, I feared there might be obstacles. I know I’m not good enough … and I was afraid. I can only hope that you will forgive me for all the terrible suffering I have caused you.”
“Well, I never,” said Mrs. Pencarron. “It’s like something out of a book.”
Uncle Peter was standing by, faintly cynical; not so Mr. Pencarron. It seemed to him the most natural thing in the world that a young man seeing his daughter should fall in love with her so madly that he persuaded her to elope with him.
“Morwenna wanted to leave a note,” went on Justin Cartwright, smiling wryly at Mr. Pencarron, “but I was afraid you would have us followed and prevent the marriage. I am entirely to blame. I hope … that Morwenna will give you a good account of me.”
Mr. Pencarron said gruffly: “Are you happy, my girl?”
“Oh, Pa … I am, I am.”
“Then that’s all we want don’t we, Mother?”
“That’s all we want,” said his wife.
Uncle Peter sent to the cellars for champagne that we might drink the health of the newlyweds.
“Then,” he added, “I daresay Mr. and Mrs. Pencarron will want to have a little talk with their son-in-law.”
There was a great deal of consternation in the family. Who was this Justin Cartwright? It seemed that he had no definite employment. He had been abroad for some years and had just returned home and was wondering what he would do. He had a little money and was what was called a gentleman of independent means. He and Morwenna would not be rich but he could provide for his wife—albeit modestly.
The police were called off the hunt. It was just another case of elopement. They turned up now and then and they wished people would give a little more thought to the trouble they were causing.
Uncle Peter thought that the incident could be of a little use to Matthew for the happy bride had been staying at his house. “People love a little romance,” he said. “Nothing like it for fixing one in the mind of the electorate. They’ll forget what happened, but they will remember it was a romantic affair and that it happened in your house. Romance only happens to nice people. It will be of some little use, I daresay.” The Pencarrons wanted their daughter and her husband to return with them to Cornwall for a proper wedding. This Gretna Green method was all very well, but what they had fancied for their Morwenna was a wedding with veil and orange blossom in St Ervan’s Church with guests in Pencarron Manor to follow.
So this was to take place; and I was sure Justin would be offered some executive post in the mine—although it was difficult to imagine him in that capacity. He seemed to me entirely the man about town.
Although it was a great relief to have Morwenna back with us safe and well, there were certain misgivings. Uncle Peter thought that it was very likely that the man was an adventurer; being one himself he very probably recognized another.
Grace was delighted for Morwenna. She said that even if she had been married because she was an heiress, was that not the reason why so many debutantes were married? It was absurd to hold up one’s hand in horror because someone had used a rather different method with the same object in view.
She said Morwenna was a girl who needed romance to pull her out of that mood of self-deprecation into which she had fallen, and what could be a better antidote to that than an elopement? Justin Cartwright at worst could be the same as many men who, during the season, were looking for an advantageous marriage; at best it could be genuine love which had prompted him to elope with Morwenna.
“Let us hope it is the latter,” she added.
And that was what we all did.
The Pencarrons returned to Cornwall, taking Morwenna and her husband with them. There was to be that ceremony at St Ervan’s and they would start making plans.
As for myself, I remained a little longer in London; Grace was with us most of the time; we bought materials and talked of wedding plans. Gervaise came to London and we had a few wonderful days together; we went again to the opera and we had luncheon alone together—permitted now that we were officially engaged. And then I said goodbye to Gervaise.