Everyone joined in the rejoicing but my mother and I were very sorry for Jenny.
“Poor girl,” said my mother. “She wouldn’t have harmed the child. She thought she had found her daughter. She is very sick really. I am going to ask the Grendalls to keep her there for a bit. Mrs. Grendall is a good sort and Jenny has worked quite a bit for her. I’ll go along to see her. That poor creature is in a daze.”
The Grendalls were tenant formers on the Cador estate—good, honest, hard-working people and we were sure they would help.
“She couldn’t be in better hands,” said my mother. “She mustn’t be reproached for what she has done. She meant no harm and she cared well for Rebecca all the time she was with her. She needs to be treated very gently.”
That night I had Rebecca’s little bed brought into my room. She had suffered no harm from her adventure but she wanted to be close to me; and I wanted her there so that I could reassure myself through the night that she was safe and well.
The Bodmin newspapers were full of the discovery at the pool.
The watch and chain which had been found bore initials on it: M.D. and W.B. They were not engraved but appeared to have been scratched on. Readers would be reminded of a case some years ago. A man had been on trial for a particularly dastardly murder; he had sexually assaulted and murdered a young girl. He had been about to stand trial when he had escaped from jail. He had been traced to the Poldoreys area and although there had been an extensive search he had never been found. At length it had been assumed that he had escaped from the country.
He had been in the water so long that it was not easy to identify the body but certain evidence pointed to the fact that it could have been he. The watch bore the initials M.D. His name was Mervyn Duncarry. Those of W.B. might well belong to someone for whom he had a sentimental attachment. It was difficult to imagine how an escaped prisoner could have had such a watch. He certainly would not have been wearing it in prison; but his prison clothes had been discovered on Bodmin Moor so it seemed obvious that he had had help from somewhere. It could have been said that he had stolen the clothes and the watch with them and perhaps scratched on it the initials of himself and this person. The police were reading it as a clue to his identity. It could have been caught in the rocky ledge when he fell into the pool and so remained there near the surface. It was a mystery; but the police were almost convinced that the man discovered in St Branok Pool was Mervyn Duncarry—though they were not closing the files on the murder case yet.
Grace looked rather shaken, I thought. I guessed she was thinking of Rebecca wandering out on her own when there were such people in the world.
A few days later when we were riding together she wanted to go down to the shore. We galloped along the beach to the boathouse. She paused there and said: “Let’s tie up the horses and walk a little.”
We did and as we went along she said: “I can’t help thinking of that man in the pool.”
I did not want to speak of him. I had not been able to get him out of my mind since the discovery in the pool.
I said: “I don’t think we should be back too late. I really don’t entirely trust Annie with Rebecca.”
“She’s bound to be doubly careful now. The others are very watchful. Are you thinking about that man? I remember so well when it happened. There was a young man staying here.”
“Ben … you mean?”
“Yes, Ben. Do you remember you had a ring …?”
“Yes,” I said faintly.
“There were initials on it. M.D. and there were two more besides.”
“I think it was W.B.”
“They were on the watch,” she said. “You found the ring, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“Where, Angelet?”
“It … it was when I had my accident.”
“On the beach here … near the boathouse?”
I did not speak.
“It’s odd,” she said. “The watch was in the pool and the ring … here by the boathouse. Why did he come here and lose his ring and then go and drown himself in the pool? What do you make of it, Angelet?”
“It’s very mysterious.”
“Show me the spot where you found the ring.”
“I can’t remember … quite. Grace, we must go back.”
She laid a hand on my arm. “Angelet.” Her grip was very firm and her eyes looked straight into mine. “You know something … don’t you?”
“What do you mean? Know what?”
“Something about this man. You remember. You had an accident. You were on the beach. You found the ring …”
“It’s so long ago. I don’t remember.”
“Angelet, I think you do remember. It wasn’t like that, was it?”
I felt trapped and again there came that impulse which I had had with Gervaise, to talk and explain.
I heard myself saying: “No, it wasn’t like that.”
“You’ve always felt something about the pool, haven’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“I’ve watched you. Something happens when it’s mentioned. What is it about the pool? Did you know they would find him?”
“Yes,” I cried. “I did know … because …”
She came closer; her eyes were glittering with curiosity; she kept a firm grip on my arm.
“Tell me about it. Tell me, Angelet. It will help you to tell.”
I closed my eyes and saw it all. “We shouldn’t have done it,” I said. “We should have called people. Let them know that he was dead.”
“Dead? Who?”
“That man. That murderer.”
“You saw him?”
“Yes, I saw him. He was going to do to me what he had done to that other girl. Ben came in time … and they fought. He fell and knocked his head on that bit of wall. You could not see it very much before it was excavated. It was just a sharp piece of flint sticking up in the grass. He cut his head on it. It killed him. Ben and I threw him into the pool.”
She was staring at me. I hardly recognized her, her eyes were brilliant in her very pale face.
“And the ring?” she said.
“It was by the pool. I picked it up without thinking. I put it in the drawer. I didn’t remember putting it there. I didn’t think it was his ring. Then you said you liked it and I gave it to you.”
“I see,” said Grace slowly. “And all the time they were hunting for him you knew he was lying at the bottom of the pool.”
I did not speak.
“I can see clearly how it happened,” she said. “Who else knows? Have you told anyone?”
“Only Gervaise.”
“Gervaise,” she said slowly.
“Grace, do you think we were wrong?”
“I think you should not have tried to hide the body.”
“I believe that to be so now. Then it seemed the best thing. We were afraid there would be trouble. We thought they would say we killed him … and it was rather like what happened to my grandfather. You know, he killed a man who was attempting to assault a girl. It was called manslaughter and he was sent to Australia as a convict for seven years.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not so very long. Perhaps we were impulsive. We didn’t know what would be best. He was dead and he would have been hanged anyway. We told ourselves that it was better for him to die the way he did.”
“But it has been on your conscience, hasn’t it? All these years?”
“It’s something you never forget. I’m glad I’ve told you, Grace.”
“Yes, I am, too.”
As we rode home neither of us said very much. We were both thinking of the man who for all those years had lain at the bottom of St Branok Pool.
Grace went back to London. I missed her very much. I was beginning to feel restive. I felt as though I were lying in a great feather bed, overprotected. I think at times my parents forgot I was no longer a child. I was sinking deeper and deeper into a sort of limbo where everyone contrived to stop anything ever happening to me in case it should be harmful. They forgot I had been married; I had traveled to Australia and lived a very unconventional life there. I found it hard to settle down to the quiet life of an English country gentlewoman in a remote corner of England—even though it was the home of my childhood.