The Pool of St. Branok (70 page)

“I thought Mrs. Polhenny sounded rather worried.”

“No … not really. She wants to think we can’t do without her. That’s just her way.”

We laughed together; then we went up to my mother.

“The holy Mrs. Polhenny thinks you should rest more,” said my grandmother.

My mother lay back on the pillows and laughed. “I’m willing,” she said. “I feel so tired.”

My grandmother went over and kissed her.

“I’m so happy you came home,” she said.

We were all seated at the dining table. My mother, considerably refreshed in a long rose-colored teagown, looked beautiful. Miss Brown was having something in her room. Meals were always a little difficult. My grandparents did not like her to eat alone and she certainly could not join the servants in the kitchen. It was different at Manorleigh or in the house in London. There Miss Brown and I often ate together, but here there was a more intimate family life. Miss Brown would often plead work to prepare and would eat in her room. I think she preferred it sometimes. In any case she did on that night.

So it was just my grandparents, my mother and myself.

“I daresay Jack and Marian will be over to see you tomorrow,” my grandmother was saying. “They are so pleased you are here. Marian will be a great help … such a practical girl. And then, of course, there’s Mrs. Polhenny … she’ll be over.” She looked at me. “A pity Pedrek’s not here. Poor boy! School has put an end to his frequent visits. He’s growing up fast.”

“Tell us what has been happening here,” said my mother.

“Oh, nothing much. Life goes on in the same old way in remote places, you know.”

“Well, you did have the French refugees here. Are they still at High Tor?”

“No. They bought the place though. They probably wish they hadn’t now. They’ve got another place near Chislehurst. They pride themselves on their aristocratic connections.”

“Oh yes,” said my mother. “The Emperor and Empress went there, didn’t they?”

“Yes. Exiles. I believe they have a fine house there. When the Emperor died, the Bourdons thought they ought to go and comfort the Empress. I’ve no doubt she keeps a little court there.”

“I heard of his death,” said my mother. “In January … I think.”

My grandmother nodded.

“And what about Mrs. Polhenny’s daughter? “I asked.

“Oh, Leah is staying with an aunt now. St. Ives way, I think.”

“An aunt! Who’s that? Mrs. Polhenny’s sister?”

“I should think so.”

“I didn’t know she had any relations,” I said. “I thought she just descended from Heaven to lead the unrighteous back to the fold.”

We all laughed and my grandfather said: “I must say it seems strange to think of her as a child with a sister … and growing up like an ordinary little girl.”

“It may be that she was quite normal then,” said my mother, “and suddenly she was made aware of her mission … like St. Paul on the road to Damascus.”

“I am sure Mrs. Polhenny would appreciate the comparison,” put in my grandmother.

“Did Leah do the tapestries at High Tor?” I asked.

“Yes. She was there for some weeks … well, all of a month, I believe. It changed her. I saw her once or twice. She looked so well … and happy. Poor girl, it must have been wonderful to get away from her mother.”

“Why do good people so often make others uncomfortable?” I asked.

“I doubt whether they are as good as they think they are,” replied my grandmother, “and the rest of us are not as bad as they think we are.”

“The thing is not to let such people bother you,” added my grandfather.

“It’s not easy if you happen to be the daughter of one,” retorted my mother and added: “Poor Leah!”

“Well, I’m glad she enjoyed her spell at High Tor,” I said. “And now she’s gone to this aunt. It looks as though she has developed a taste for adventure.”

“I’m surprised that Mrs. Polhenny allowed it,” said my mother.

“Well, she was at length persuaded to let her go, though she stood out against it at first.”

“Leah is growing up now,” said my mother. “Perhaps she is developing a will of her own as well as a taste for adventure.”

We went on chattering about life in the Poldoreys, my mother asking after all the people whom she had known as a child.

It was wonderful to be together like this. It was my happiest day since I had heard she was going to marry Benedict Lansdon.

The days sped by. My mother protested when she had to take her enforced rests. Dr. Wilmingham called. He was pleased with her condition. He stayed to luncheon for he had been a friend for many years. He shared my grandmother’s opinion of Mrs. Polhenny. “She can be irritating at times,” he said, “but she is one of the best at her job. A really dedicated midwife. We could do with more like her.”

I used to go for little walks with my mother. “Fresh air and exercise is good,” Dr. Wilmingham said, “as long as it is not overdone.”

We walked in the gardens but my mother liked to go farther afield. She was very fond of the walk to Branok Pool. The place had a strange fascination for her. She told me the story of how it had been dragged when she thought I had strayed into it so many times that I knew every word by heart.

Such places change little. It must have been exactly like that all those years ago with the willows trailing in the water and the marshy ground round the brink. My mother liked to sit on one of the protruding boulders and she would watch the water as though her thoughts were far away.

Now and then we would catch a glimpse of Jenny Stubbs, sometimes singing in that strange voice of hers which had an uncanny otherworldliness about it, and sounded very eerie by the pool.

She would call: “Good day to ’ee, Miss Angel … Miss Rebecca.”

My mother answered her in a specially gentle voice. Jenny seemed to have a fondness for her. She hardly noticed me which was strange as I was the one she had kidnapped and she had believed was her own.

“Good day, Jenny. A lovely day, isn’t it?”

Sometimes Jenny would pause and nod her head. She would look at my mother wonderingly. It was obvious that she was pregnant now.

Once Jenny said: “I see you be expecting, Miss Angel.”

“Yes, Jenny.”

Jenny lifted her shoulders and giggled. She pointed to herself. “Me too, Miss Angel. Little girl I be having …”

“Yes, Jenny,” said my mother.

Jenny smiled and walked back to her cottage, singing as she went.

Benedict came down several times. We never knew when he was coming. He would suddenly appear, to cast a cloud over my days. Then it seemed that I lost her. He was the sort of man who seemed to fill a room with his presence. At the dinner table he was the center of conversation. It was all about what was happening in the Party, when the next election could be expected. It was almost as though Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli joined us at the dinner table.

He and my mother were constantly together during his stay. There was no place for me.

I heard him say to her once: “It seems so long. I wish I had never let you go so far away from me.”

She laughed softly and happily and replied: “It won’t be long now, darling. Then I’ll be home … with the baby. It will be wonderful.”

I felt then that I must enjoy every moment. This happiness could not last.

May had come. In another month the baby would arrive. Mrs. Polhenny was now sure that it would be earlier than we had at first thought.

“I shan’t be able to walk so far soon,” said my mother.

“Perhaps you should not walk so far now,” I replied.

“I want to see the pool once more.”

“I don’t think those boulders are very comfortable for you to sit on.”

“Nothing is comfortable just now, Becca.”

“And they might be a little damp.”

“In this weather? There’s been no rain for weeks. Come on.”

“Well, if you get tired we shall turn back.”

“I can get there. I want to.”

“Why does the place fascinate you so much? It’s gloomy and it always seems to me that there is something evil about it.”

“Perhaps that’s why.”

“They ought to put railings round it to prevent accidents,” I said.

“That would change the place completely.”

“Well, perhaps that would be a good thing.”

She shook her head.

We sat there on the boulders. There was a stillness in the air.

At length she said: “Becca, I want to talk to you.”

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“You are very dear to me. I shall never forget the day you were born.”

“In those goldfields …”

“You made a difference to my life … you always have. You mustn’t ever think that I don’t love you as much as I did. You won’t mind about the new baby, will you?”

“Mind? I already love the baby.”

“I want you to love it … dearly. It’s very important to me. It’s suddenly come to me … as though I’m seeing ahead. There is something about this place …”

“Yes,” I agreed. “There is something about it. You think that because I’m jealous of … him … I might be of the baby.”

“I don’t love you any less because I love others.”

“I know.”

“So never think it.”

I shook my head. I was too moved for words.

She took my hand and laid it against her body. “You are young,” she said. “People would say you should not know of such things … but I have never thought of you as young. You are my own … part of me. That is why we have been so close together always … until … well, so you thought. Stop thinking that, Becca. He wants you to care for him as much as I do. He is hurt because he thinks you resent him. Can you feel the movement? That is the child, Becca … our child … yours, mine and his. Promise me that you will always love it … care for it … look after it …”

“Of course I will. It will be my sister … or my brother. Of course I’ll love it. I promise.”

She put my hand to her lips and kissed it.

“Thank you, my darling child. You have made me very happy.”

For a while we sat looking at the pool. Then she rose suddenly and took my hand.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Dearest child, always remember …”

I was with her all the time. It seemed as though a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. When the child was born and we went back, he would be there. I was going to try to stop hating him. I could see now that I had been to blame.

He wanted me to be part of the family. He did not want to shut me out. I had shut myself out.

I was going to be different when the child was born.

My mother had stopped going out. Mrs. Polhenny came every day. She was ready, she said. “At the first sign, I’ll be here.”

Dr. Wilmingham often came to luncheon. My mother would join us, but she was quickly exhausted.

Pedrek came down for a brief stay at Pencarron Manor. He and I would ride together. It was more like the old days, but I never stayed away from Cador for long for I liked to be as much as possible with my mother.

One afternoon Pedrek and I had been riding together and as we approached Cador he said goodbye before going back to Polcarron and I turned my horse to go home. The day had been overcast. There would be rain before long. On the way I passed Mrs. Polhenny’s cottage. We had always laughed at its prim appearance—the scrubbed doorstep, the gleaming cobbles, the windows shrouded with heavy curtains at the sides and dazzling white net across them to protect the inmates from seeing sin outside the house, we always said.

Mrs. Polhenny was, I guessed, at the Peggotys’ in West Poldorey. I had heard that she had been called there that morning to attend Mrs. Peggoty.

As I glanced up at the windows I saw a shape, so Mrs. Polhenny was at home. That would mean the Peggoty child was born. The shadow was there for a moment and then it had gone.

I hesitated. My grandmother had been a little anxious about Mrs. Peggoty for it was her first child and she was forty years old, which was old to have children. It would be good to know that the child was safely born. So I slipped off my horse and tethered it to a bush. Then I went and knocked at the door.

I stood there smiling to myself, wondering what Mrs. Polhenny would think if I asked if the baby had arrived. I had heard through one of the maids that she thought I was a “forward piece” and that it wasn’t right for children to know what I knew and she could not imagine what them up at Cador was thinking about to allow it.

I must say I felt rather a mischievous delight in shocking her.

I waited. There was no answer. The house seemed silent. Yet I was certain I had seen her at the window … at least it must be her for Leah was away with the aunt in St. Ives.

I waited for ten minutes. Then I mounted my horse and rode away. I was puzzled. I had been sure someone was in the house.

I forgot about the incident until the next morning when my grandmother announced that Mrs. Peggoty had a fine boy.

“He was born at three o’clock this morning, Mrs. Polhenny tells me. She says she was there for all those hours and is really worn out.”

So she had not been there, in the house. How odd! I must have imagined the shape at the window. But I knew I had not. It was rather mysterious.

June came. Mrs. Polhenny was, as she said, “at the ready.” She had become a little preoccupied which worried me a little. I asked myself if she were a little less sure of herself.

One morning she said to my grandmother: “You could have knocked me down with a feather. I’d never have believed it. I just thought there was something about her … the trained eye, you know. Then I said to her, ‘Jenny,’ I said, ‘I’d like to take a look at you.’ She was pleased enough to let me and when I examined her … well, I tell you, I couldn’t believe it …”

I listened to this. I was constantly on the alert. I had a feeling that all was not going as it should with my mother and although they told me a little I guessed there was a great deal which was held back. I was determined to find out. I had to know. So I listened quite shamelessly to everything I could in the hope of finding out the true state, of affairs concerning my mother.

That was how I learned that Jenny Stubbs was in fact expecting a child. It was a nine days’ wonder in the Poldoreys. How could it have come about? Everyone was thinking back to harvest time. September or October … to June. It was remembered that Peggotys had had labor in to help with the harvest. Last time with Jenny people guessed the father had been one of the itinerant workers. And Jenny, of course, half dazed as she was, wanted so much to have a child that it had been one of her fantasies to believe she was to have one. According to wiseacres like Mrs. Polhenny, this sort of dreaming made conception more likely.