“By God, Madam,” he said, “so ’tis you who have taken my room.”
“Is it yours, sir?” I answered. “I had thought it was one the landlord had set aside for guests, and my mother and I have already taken it.”
“Is that so?” he said, and his smile was sardonic. He started to mount the stairs.
“I am a frequent patron of this inn,” he said. “There are times when I pass and wish to rest for a night. This room is always at my disposal.”
“Then,” I said, “this is an occasion when it is not.”
My mother had come forward. I realized—though no one else would—that she was a little nervous. But she was not the sort to give up her rights without a fight.
She said: “What is this trouble, sir?”
He bowed to her. “Whether it be trouble or not, Madam, depends on you. You are occupying my room. Vacate it and you may have a pleasant night though perhaps a less luxurious one.”
“We had already taken the room,” said my mother.
“Ah, but that was before I arrived. Nessie,” he shouted. Then: “God’s eyes, man, where’s your daughter?”
The innkeeper was at the bottom of the stairs. “I will call her, my lord, and send her to you.”
“Tell her quick. I like not to be kept waiting.”
His eyes were on me. “Do not think,” he said, “that it pleases me to turn a beautiful lady from her bed.”
“I am sure it does not,” I retorted, “and I am equally sure that our good host will find you a comfortable lodging somewhere in his inn.”
He had stepped into the room. My mother watched him coldly. Jennet was frankly staring, her mouth a little slack. I knew what she was thinking. This was the kind of man she adored. If he had looked her way she would have been ready to do anything he asked of her with the utmost willingness. But he seemed unaware of her. He touched the wall and murmured: “This panelling is beautiful, is it not? Worthy of a mansion. I always admired it. ’Tis a good bed too. You’ll not find a better in any inn in the country.”
“I am sure I shall agree with you when I have used it,” I said.
“Ah, but we shall have to come to an agreement earlier than that. I wish to sleep in this bed tonight.”
“As I shall be sleeping there that is out of the question.”
“It is not an impossibility,” he said insolently.
I flushed and my mother said: “I must ask you, sir, to leave us. If you continue to insult us my husband will hear of this.”
“Pray who is the gentleman? Our host has been most remiss in making introductions.”
“He is Captain Jake Pennlyon,” said my mother firmly, “and he is a man who will not allow his wife and daughter to be insulted.”
“His repute has reached my ears. Who could be ignorant of his existence? Ha, here is Nessie. It takes you a long time to come, my girl. Did you not hear my arrival?”
Nessie bobbed a curtsy. She was a plump, pretty girl with rosy cheeks and abundant fair curly hair; her gown was low cut and the thought occurred to me that she knew this man very well. He caught her by the ear and pinched it. She gave a little yell and put up her hands to his. He laughed and let his hand drop to her breast which he patted caressingly as he said: “Now, Nessie, clear the room. This baggage comes out and mine goes in.”
“I will not allow this,” cried my mother.
“My dear lady,” he said, “how will you prevent it?”
“I wish to see the landlord immediately.”
“Come,” I said to my mother, “we will go to him now. Come, Jennet,” I said.
She left our bags where they were and followed us.
The landlord was in the hall; he was visibly trembling.
“This is a fine way to treat your guests,” began my mother.
“My lady, it is no fault of mine. I did not know he would be here this night. It is only last week that he came. He does not usually come so often. I have a very nice room …”
“No,” said my mother, but she was very uneasy. Outside it was dark. If we left the inn where could we go? There would not be another for some miles. The horses were tired. We would have to stay; and yet she was in revolt against the arrogant churlish behaviour of this man.
“My lady,” said the innkeeper. “You do not know Squire Colum Casvellyn.”
“If that is the name of that oaf I do not wish to.”
“Ah, my lady, we cannot always help these things. I can prepare a good room for you. It is not our best room but it is a good room and there you can spend the night in peace.”
“You have forgotten that you gave us the Oak Room.”
“I do not forget, Madam, but Squire Casvellyn can make great trouble. He is a man who must be obeyed. I could not say what would happen to us all if I refused to allow him to have the Oak Room.”
“I will speak of this with my daughter,” said my mother.
He nodded. We went into the inn parlour which mercifully was deserted. Jennet followed us and sat some little distance away. My mother said impatiently: “Take that look off your face, Jennet. That braggart wouldn’t look your way. You’re an old woman now.”
Jennet simpered. I was always amazed by her imperturbability. My mother once told me that she had always been like that. No matter what had happened in the past; when she had been the victim of men’s lust, as she had frequently, she had accepted her fate without a qualm, although, as my mother said, she would never have been an unwilling victim in those circumstances.
“The wisest thing to do would be to take the smaller room,” said my mother. “I wish your father were here.”
“Then there would be a fight. I should not like that.”
“Your father would make short work of him.”
I was not so sure. I saw in this man something akin to my father and he was many years younger.
“But my father is not here. How I hate giving way to him!”
“I also. But what would happen if we refused to leave that room? He would be there too. He might throw us out. What sort of night should we have then? No, ’tis better to accept the other room and behave with dignity. But when your father hears of this he will not allow it to pass.”
I could see that she was right. We were not in a position to fight against him, and his remark that he might share the room with us had upset me.
“Let us then tell the landlord to give us his next best room. We deplore the ill manners of his guest but as he will do nothing about it we must needs accept this insult.”
My mother sent Jennet for the landlord. He came, his hands under his apron trembling, I’m sure. I felt sorry for the man.
“We have decided we can do nothing but accept your offer of another room.”
Relief flooded the poor man’s face. “You are wise, Madam,” he said. “I promise you that everything shall be done …”
“I can see,” said my mother, “that this is no fault of yours. Tell me who is this man who strikes such terror into you and your servants?”
“He is the lord of Castle Paling—a man greatly feared in these parts. He is the lord of the neighbourhood. It has always been so with the Casvellyns. They own much of the land hereabouts. He could turn us out of our homes if we displeased him. He would have no mercy. His father was lord of us all but he was but a shadow of his son.”