Portrait of a Girl (14 page)

Then
there were accessories of fine kid gloves, and a feather boa — a gilt chain handbag also, and cream boots with pointed toes. Oh, I was very rash, stimulated not only by vanity but a touch of defiance to make Rupert once more aware of my presence in his life. I doubted that he could grudge the expense, although I was sure that her ladyship would, if she ever found out.

Lady
Verne!

As
usual, whenever the thought of her crossed my mind a vague shadow of resentment fell on me. Rupert might not love her — I was sure he didn’t. But she was always there, in the background, his wife, and therefore the one with legal power. There were two of them really who stood as obstacles to my love, I thought that day when I left Madame Juliette’s: Lady Alicia, and that girl in the portrait, the elusive beauty whose claim at Tregonnis remained a mystery, and haunted my imagination every time I caught her wistful stare from its heavy frame.

Two
days following my second new singing session with Signor Luigi, Rupert called to tell me that my famous tutor was pleased with my voice and my acceptance of his new plans for me. The girl from Kerrysmoor who came for a few hours daily, had already left and I was chagrined that I was not wearing one of my new gowns for his attention.

‘
You mean your new plans,’ I corrected him.

‘
Ah well! let us say
mutual
,’ he agreed, smiling. ‘You should be pleased — it’s a guarantee, isn’t it, that I intend our life together to be far closer after certain obstacles have been worked out.’ He took my hand, drew me close and embraced me warmly.

‘
It would be more helpful if you could tell me how — explain just a little,’ I pointed out. ‘Signor Luigi speaks a lot about drawingrooms and social occasions, but I’m not really a drawingroom kind of person. Is that what
you’re
looking for? Someone to entertain at your grand parties warbling away while some stuffy accompanist pounds ballads on a piano. Is that what
she
was — the girl in the portrait?’

The
moment the question was out I could have cut my tongue out. Rupert’s face darkened. In a strange way it seemed to close up — shutting me out. ‘I’m sorry,’ I added quickly, ‘I didn’t mean to — to pry, but—’

‘
You’re too curious by half,’ he said shortly, ‘and I don’t like it. Impertinence, even from you, is extremely distasteful. Remember that in the future, Josephine. When I wish to confide in you I will. Do you understand?’

‘
Very well,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’

He
softened a little. ‘Forget it. You’re very young still, and have a lot to learn. Maybe—’ he shrugged, ‘— we both have. It’s so long since—’ He broke off aggravatingly and made to leave. ‘Well, I must be off now, I’ve much to do. Take care of yourself — I felt I had to drop in and tell you how pleased I was about the lessons, and also, by the way, that you’d assembled a new wardrobe in Truro.’

He
kissed me before he left. But more gently than usual; it was as though his mind was on other things. A little disappointed I turned away and went through the kitchen into the garden. The clippety-clop of his horse’s hooves gradually died away into the distance. I felt alone, and resentful of the secret places in his heart and life that I could not share.

Sunlight
was only fitful that day, but towards evening the clouds broke up leaving clear skies lit with dying gold over the moors. My spirits lifted. I would have gone for a stroll, but Jan had taken Brutus for a ‘good ole gallop’ as he put it, because the dog had been left on his own a good deal lately, and needed ‘a bit o’ fun like’.

The
air was heady with the scents and soft murmurings of summertime. I walked down the garden path to the wilderness covering the passage used by Rupert on the night of his escape from the Revenue. Once more the weeds and briars had crawled across the entrance leaving only a glimmer of darkness through the tangled branches. I returned to the site of Dame Jenny’s roses and broke one idly from its stem, holding it to my nose and drawing the sweetness into my lungs. Then I wandered to the pool, thinking dreamily and longingly of the treasured hours when Rupert and I had lain and loved together through that never-to-be-forgotten night.

Frail
reflections and shadows of early evening already patterned the surface of the water. A kind of enchantment enfolded me, inducing me to sing in a low tone — a sweet-sad melody in a minor key that I’d heard in far-away childhood. I was aware of no other sound — of no other human being invading the solitude, so my senses froze when a ripple of strange laughter broke the peace. The song died on my lips.

At
the same moment, as I started to turn my head, the touch of hands brushed the back of my neck, gradually tightening until I could hardly breathe. At first I didn’t attempt to move, sensing that my resistance might mean danger. Then there was a further laugh, deeper this time, holding a subtle obscene triumph. I managed to strain round briefly to catch a glimpse of the intruder. What I saw shocked me — a pale malicious face staring from glassy mad eyes. A trickle of saliva coursed down the long chin from twisted lips.

I
was terrified. The grip on my body seemed to have super-human strength.

‘
Don’t move,’ whispered a thick harsh voice, while thumbs pressed deeper into my neck. ‘Like the other one, aren’t you? Trollop — staring down from her great frame. And where did it get her —
where
—?’ The voice became a hiss. ‘In the pool. Drowned like a rat.’

I
was propelled round and pushed forwards so I thought I must surely tumble in. But the hard arms still held me. Shadows drifted and faded in the cool water. ‘There she is —
there!
’ the malignant tones continued. ‘Watch her eyes where the fish swim. Holes now in an empty skull. And she was his once — his dream. He loved her.
Love
!’ Wild laughter momentarily shrieked through the air. ‘And she still is. So — leave here you fool — or you’ll end up like her and the Three Maidens. The Three Maidens, do you
hear
?’ I was shaken wildly and forced to face the creature again.

There
was no smile now on the macabre lips. Only hate.

Then
suddenly it was as though all force left the wild figure. The arms dropped from my shoulder and neck, and like some grotesque great bird from a nightmare, the shape in its black cloak turned and fled flapping crazily to the lane where it disappeared into the shadow of the trees. I sank on to the ground with my head bowed to ward off faintness. How long I stayed there I don’t know. But presently I heard Jan’s whistle from the fields followed by the happy barking of a dog. The youth and Brutus appeared minutes later. By then I had got up and was already in the kitchen.

‘
Why, missie,’ the youth said, after one glance at my face, ‘Whatever’s the matter with ee? Anythin’ wrong? You do look frit to death—’

I
tried to speak, but it was difficult to be coherent. My throat hurt so. ‘Someone — attacked me,’ I managed to say at last. ‘It was — I don’t know — who. You’d better tell the Master—’

‘
But I can’t do that, Miss Jo — I’ve heard tell he took himself off on business ’bout an hour ’go — Truro or somewhere, maybe Plymouth, I doan’ know. But I could get a message to her ladyship—’

I
lifted a hand in negation. ‘
No
.’ Even in my own ears my voice was a mere rasp. ‘Don’t tell her, whatever you do. It’s all right—’ I swallowed painfully. ‘I’ve Brutus now. And — and the girl comes in the morning.’

He
looked dubious. ‘Ef the Master did know he’d get the p’lice mebbe—’

I
shook my head. ‘It’s all over now. With the dog and the doors locked there’ll be no danger. I shall — I shall be all right.’

He
looked doubtful but in the end agreed. ‘S’long as you keep Brutus with ee when th’ girl edn’ here,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault p’raps f’r leavin’ y’ alone — although it wasn’ f’r long. But if Master Verne knew, I’d get the push from Farmer Carne sure ’nuff.’

I
managed to smile.

‘
Farmer Carne
won’t
know,’ I promised, ‘and neither will Master Verne. You’re a good lad, Jan, I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.’

He
scratched one ear thoughtfully. ‘Thank ’ee, Miss. I hope I’m doin’ right.’

‘
I’m sure you are. And it’s best not to worry the Master anyway.’

‘
Yes. That’s right. He does have plenty to worry him without any more shoved on him. I’ll say goodnight to ee then.’ And still shaking his head thoughtfully he left Tregonnis for the farm.

Later
I wondered what his reference to Rupert’s worries meant. But I was still too bewildered and upset to think clearly. I had Brutus sleeping by my bed that night, with the pistol on my side table, but it was a long time before I got any rest. I recalled the harsh voice’s reference to ‘the Three Maidens’, and to the girl in the portrait, and when at last I slept my dreams were of a witch-like face glaring down on me, and of a fair face upturned — a floating image in the pool — the face of the girl in the portrait.

When
I woke in the morning my neck was still swollen. The next day I was due for my lesson with Signor Luigi, but I knew there would be no point in going to Truro. Although I could speak, somewhat gruffly, I couldn’t sing. When I tried nothing came from my throat but a rasping cough. My voice had gone. How permanently I didn’t know. It was a terrible feeling thinking I might never sing again.

Chapter Nine

For the next few days following the assault my neck was still swollen, and dark bruises showed at the throat. None of my dresses could be buttoned near the chin, so I swathed chiffon round the neck to hide the marks, fastened with a cameo brooch. The effect was not perfect, but to any casual observer would give, hopefully, no sign of injury. To the daily girl I simply made excuses of having caught ‘some kind of a cold in my throat’ and Jan did not give me away. When the chaise arrived to take me to Truro I asked the man if he would be kind enough to drive there and inform the maestro that I was unwell and not likely to be able to attend the theatre for a little while. At the same time I concocted an excuse for needing cough mixture from the apothecary’s and told the man I’d be grateful if the mixture could be picked up and delivered to me at Tregonnis.

The
coachman was dubious at first, but when I asked if Mr Verne was back at Kerrysmoor, if so I was sure he would give permission, I was told no, the Master was still away, having had to take a trip to Plymouth.

‘
And her ladyship?’ I questioned, although the girl had already informed me she was in a mood.

He
shook his head. ‘She still isn’t well, Miss.’

‘
Then
please
— my voice is so rough, and I can hardly swallow—’

Eventually
the man agreed.

When
the sound of horses’ hooves and wheels rattling down the road had died away, I went back into the house, miserably wondering if the Plymouth business had anything to do with Rupert’s contraband interests. Even with the girl and Brutus for company I was miserable and on edge, and still very shocked. At night I locked and bolted the doors early, and left Brutus free to roam the cottage — except for the Treasure Room, for fear his animal presence might dislodge any precious relic.

I
slept badly; but one evening, about five days following the attack at the pool I was so exhausted I went upstairs early, and immediately on getting into bed fell into a heavy sleep.

It
must have been about two o’clock when I woke suddenly, disturbed by a sound below — a crashing noise followed by a tinkle and several short bangs. I felt my whole body go rigid except for the wild thumping of my heart. For some moments I lay unmoving, waiting for Brutus’s heavy snarl and growling.

There
was nothing.

Everything,
after a matter of only minutes, was completely deadly quiet. Had I been dreaming, I asked myself, and woken from some nightmare? Or was I perhaps no longer completely sane and balanced following my frightening experience? I knew somehow I had to pull myself together and venture downstairs to find out what had happened, and if Brutus was all right. So I pulled on a wrap and slippers, crept out of the bedroom and tip-toed to the top of the stairs. I paused, then, listening.

‘
Brutus,’ I called in a croaky whisper, ‘— Brutus, Brutus—’

There
was no response.

Cautiously
I went down.

The
dog was lying completely still, as though unconscious or dead, near the front door; there was blood and a small amount of red meat lying nearby, and the pane of a small side window had been carefully cut away. I caught my breath with horror and rushed to the dog’s side. He was still breathing, and appeared not to have been hurt, but a curious smell came from the meat. Obviously he had been poisoned in some way, or drugged.

Jan,
I thought, I must get Jan. But at such an hour it would mean walking a distance to the farm and then rousing the whole household. In the meantime further vandalism might occur. I was still wondering what to do, when the animal stirred; one eye opened, then another. There was a feeble wag of the tail, and with relief I realised the dog was recovering. It was then I noticed the door of the Treasure Room. The lock had been somehow forced, and it was half open. Holding my candle shakily, I went in.

Glass
lay shattered everywhere about the floor, with one or two figurines; but that was all. Torn from its frame and ripped into several pieces was the portrait of the girl. The lovely limpid eyes stared up at me through the wan flickering light. Her head was severed from the body at the throat, and by it was a piece of cardboard on which, scrawled in wild zig-zaggy writing, were the words: ‘THE THREE MAIDENS. Now there are
Four
’.

A
fit of trembling shook me from head to foot. Whoever had committed the destruction could be no other, I was sure, than the mad creature who’d assaulted me in the garden. But why? And
how
had Brutus been kept quiet then drugged, while the break-in was made? He was a trained guard, only obeying a well-known voice. Then it must be someone at Kerrysmoor. And that someone must be Lady Verne! Was it possible? She disliked me, yes. But she was ill, bedridden, and the malicious damage had been directed more towards the portrait than myself — except for the garden episode, and I certainly had not recognised her ladyship in the attacker.

Somehow
I got through the morning. The loneliness was frightening — intense, and Jan did not call at the usual hour to take the dog for his walk. No one came — no one, until early in the afternoon when a handy-man from Kerrysmoor arrived on a horse with a message to say the girl who usually helped at Tregonnis on certain days was unavailable, and that under the circumstances, Master Verne thought it better for me to go to Truro for a few days. A room had been booked for me at The Crown coaching house, he’d be in touch with me sometime, there. The chaise would pick me up at four o’clock.

‘
I don’t understand,’ I said in my rusty voice. ‘I have a cold in my throat, and — and why must I leave here so quickly? — Who’ll look after the cottage?’ My objection of course was quite stupid. I should have been grateful for the chance of avoiding another night alone at Tregonnis.

‘
That’ll be all looked after, Miss,’ the man said. ‘There’s a note here from Mr Verne. He’s got back not long since. Perhaps you’d better read it.’

I
took the envelope from him and tore it open:

Josephine,
please do what I wish — pack a few things and be ready for the chaise to pick you up by four. Things are happening here which are exceedingly unpleasant. I have sent instructions to The Crown to see that you are comfortably accommodated. I shall see you as soon as possible. When that will be I cannot say. Until then, yours as ever, Rupert.

I
looked up at the man, bewildered, shocked, and taken aback by the brevity of the note which seemed to imply great anxiety on his part to get me out of the way — or was it out of his life?

‘
Why didn’t Mr Verne come himself?’ I asked. ‘And does he — do
any
of you up at Kerrysmoor know what’s been happening
here
? But of course not. How could you—?’ I broke off coughing.

We
were standing at the gate of the garden. The man was holding his horse by the bridle, and the animal whinnied shrilly, as though sensing my distress.

‘
Is something wrong, Miss?’

I
gave the semblance of a laugh, a derisive gruff sound. ‘You’d better come and have a look.’

He
tethered his mount to a sycamore, and followed me up the path into the house.

‘
Sakes almighty,’ he exclaimed, ‘how did this happen?’

‘
Last night — about two o’clock,’ I explained. ‘I was in bed and was woken up by a sound. No — not Brutus.
He
was — he must have been drugged. I came downstairs and found —
this
.’

The
man simply gaped, patting the dog’s head idly, as it gazed up at him mournfully, wagging his tail in a lazy way. ‘He seems all right now,’ he said at length. ‘And that’s something.’

‘
Oh yes, Brutus will soon be his old self I’m sure. But don’t you think you should inform your Master what has occurred as soon as possible and have investigations started? The vet too. The vet should have a look at Brutus.’

‘
Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll begone, and you may be sure someone’ll be around — the police most likely to take charge of things. I can tell Master Verne you’ll be ready then to go to Truro as he said?’

I
nodded bleakly, and without further ado the man left kicking his mount to a swift pace down the lane, towards the main road.

In
a daze I went upstairs to my bedroom and began mechanically to pack my small valise, feeling in an unreal dream that had the quality of an unending nightmare. I put a cape and bonnet ready on the bed, and when I looked at the clock saw I had an hour and a half to wait. But before then, I told myself, someone would arrive — Rupert? Oh surely, Rupert himself must come when he learned what a terrifying experience I’d been through.

Waiting
can be agonising. From time to time I wandered through the cottage aimlessly, tidying this and that, talking to Brutus who seemed content to rest in the hall — thinking as each quarter of an hour passed, ‘Why doesn’t he come, or at least send
someone
? A fast horse has had plenty of time—? Suppose some lurking madman or murderer appears again suddenly? All I have is Brutus who’s still shocked, and the gun — the pistol. Where is it?’ I searched my mind wildly for a moment, then remembered it was in a drawer in my bedroom. I went upstairs again, found it, and put it in a pocket of my gown. Then I returned to the parlour.

When,
at half past three still no one had arrived, nervous exhaustion drove me to a quick decision. I would wait no longer. I
couldn’t
. If Rupert cared for me at all — and I’d believed in him so deeply, so truly — he’d somehow have contrived to rescue me before this from Tregonnis, which had now become no more than a sinister prison. But he didn’t love me. He never had — not sufficiently anyway. Whatever it was that was keeping us apart at such a dangerous time — whether some smuggling business, or her ladyship’s ‘megrims’ (what a word, I thought contemptuously) any feeling he had for me was of merely secondary consideration to him. And I knew I could no longer bear it. I didn’t want his charity, his help, or being pushed about from one place to another without any explanation, just because it suited him. I didn’t want any drive to Truro in his rich chaise just to be closeted in some stuffy hostelry at his command. If I hadn’t a real place in his heart, I wanted nothing of him at all. For a time he’d desired me — and managed to win me. But now it seemed it was over; he was being devious and polite, and maybe in his way trying to fit me into some kind of mutual future. On the other hand, perhaps not.

Either
way it didn’t matter. I was weary of fretting, and hoping and fighting the long terrifying hours without him.

I
would make a clean break. I could still do it — I was young and strong, and one day, surely, when the bruises in my neck faded and healed, my voice would return. So I’d leave on my own and somehow make my way back to Falmouth. Taking a route along the coastal lanes below the moors I could be there, walking, in a matter of two days, perhaps even less. Furthermore, if I hurried, I could catch a private waggon that drove part of the way, leaving Tharne each evening at four-thirty. So I’d hurry, and start off immediately for the village before Rupert’s chaise arrived.

Once
my plan was made I allowed no other consideration to change it. The past was over and a new period in my life beginning. I must somehow forget Rupert — or at least blot him from my mind.

In
this hard determined mood it was that some time later I was ensconced in Mr Jago’s private waggon, with five other passengers jolting along the road southwards towards Falmouth. After numerous stopping places I left the vehicle at Penhallow and from there started walking cross country, avoiding Redlake, in the direction of my home town.

*

The air was sweet with the tang of heather, thyme, gorse, and a salty mild wind blown from the sea. I wore my lightest boots, and loosened my cape at the neck. Gulls occasionally wheeled overhead, and everywhere were the low rustling sounds of Nature’s creatures about their secret ways.

Sometimes
I left the lanes for farm footpaths, but mostly I kept to narrow roadways used from hamlet to hamlet, and frequented I supposed chiefly by gypsies, pedlars, or wanderers like myself wishing to avoid attention. As I had money in my reticule it was easy enough to call at a wayside tavern or cottage and find temporary resting place and something to eat. Directions of route were willingly provided, ‘always bear left now,’ I was told at one small kiddleywink, ‘keepin’ that theer old mine Wheal Flower on th’ right. An’ kip thy face an’ gold hid, case some lurkin’ vag’bond spies ’ee.’

I
took the advice for some part of the way after leaving, but as the lane climbed upwards and vegetation became more sparse giving a clear view on every side, I removed the hood of my cape from my face, and let the fresh air brush my cheeks and loosen my hair. A pedlar passed driving a cart pulled by an old donkey; pots and pans rattled, together with the sound of creaking cart wheels. The man was a wizened, puckish-looking fellow, with a blue feather in his hat. The vehicle was loaded with a conglomeration of goods — bottles of lotions, ribbons, winking glass beads, cutlery, household goods, and haberdashery of all sorts, mostly secondhand, I guessed. He drew up the cart and introduced himself as Barnaby Goine.