Midsummer's Eve Read online

  I went through the books with Bob Carter, our manager, who had looked after everything during my father’s absence. I told him that everything appeared to be in excellent shape. He was gratified and said he hoped there would be no changes on the estate.

  “I don’t see any need to change anything, Bob,” I said. “I have a lot to learn, but you can explain to me what I ought to know.”

  “That I will, Miss Cadorson.”

  And after the first shock of homecoming with its inevitable memories, I began to feel better.

  Rolf took me round his estate. I was amazed at the size of it.

  “It’s flourishing,” he said. “Luke Tregern looked after it well while I was away.”

  He told me that when the manager had retired Luke Tregern had taken over his post.

  “Luke has done marvels,” he went on. “I felt I could leave him in charge while I was away and I was not wrong.”

  I saw Luke in the office seated at a table working on some papers. He looked very smart in a velveteen jacket and gaiters, with a cream-coloured cravat. He stood up and bowed as I entered.

  “Good morning, Luke,” I said.

  “Good morning, Miss Cadorson, and welcome home. My deepest sympathy for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Luke. Mr. Hanson tells me you are doing a very good job here.”

  “I trust so, Miss Cadorson. It is what I strive for.”

  He was handsome in a way and his clothes and manner rather indicated that he was aware of it. That was nothing to complain of, of course. In fact it was pleasant to meet someone who obviously cared about his appearance.

  We chatted a little about the estate and then Rolf and I left.

  “He’s different,” I said.

  “Yes. I saw it at once when he came looking for a job. He’s got drive, he’s ambitious, Luke is. I think he’ll get on.”

  “I should think so. He already has. From gamekeeper to manager is quite a step.”

  “You’ve got your good Bob Carter. Don’t grudge me my Luke.”

  “I don’t. I’m glad for you.”

  “It will be fine when we run the two together, Annora.”

  “Yes. I believe I am looking forward to that.”

  I was. It was gratifying that the people on the estate thought my coming marriage to Rolf was a good thing—which meant good for the estate as well as for Rolf and me. They believed and so did I that in the circumstances it was the best thing that could have happened.

  When Aunt Amaryllis heard that we were home she wrote that she must come to see us; and in due course she arrived accompanied by her lady’s maid.

  My pleasure in seeing her was mixed with great sadness. She was very emotional; and I kept remembering stories my mother had told me of their childhood.

  Her reunion with Helena was very moving. She had been so anxious about her daughter, I knew, and she told me how grateful she was to me for looking after her.

  I replied that Helena had, at times, looked after me.

  And we cried together.

  But she was delighted with her grandchild. She could not keep away from him.

  “You must come home,” she said to Helena.

  “I want to stay with Annora … just for a little while,” Helena told her. “We have been through so much together. She has helped me through.”

  “I should have been with you, my dearest child. Bless you, Annora my dear. Such dreadful things to happen … and all at once.”

  How right she was! One thing had followed on another. It had been a disastrous chain of events.

  “Your father would want you home,” said Aunt Amaryllis.

  “Would he?” cried Helena. “It’s going to be difficult to explain.”

  “And your husband, Matthew. What of him?”

  “He’s in Australia. He will come home when he has collected the material he needs.”

  “Doesn’t he want to see you … and the baby?”

  “Mama,” said Helena, “it is no use pretending. Matthew married me to help me. That was all. It is difficult to understand if you don’t know him. He’s that sort of person. He wants to do good for people. That’s why he is going to write this book. He is a man who has to have a cause. I was in a difficult position and he saw a way of helping me out. He’s a very rare person. But he is not Jonnie’s father.”

  “Was it … John Milward?”

  Helena nodded.

  “Oh dear, what a terrible muddle. Your father could have sorted something out for you, you know.”

  “He wouldn’t want me home. It would only add to the scandal about us.”

  “Oh, he’d deal with that. There are so many malicious people in the world. He’s just been driven out of political life, that’s all. It’s a great loss to the country. He says it is very unprofitable in any case.”

  “But what about his business … all those clubs?”

  “It’s still as it always was.”

  “My mother told me that you were involved in Uncle Peter’s business, Aunt Amaryllis,” I said.

  “Oh, just money and all that. He always insisted that I had my own income. He invested it for me. He says he has made me much richer than I was when I married him.”

  “But the money comes from …”

  “He explained all that to me. His clubs are very necessary, you know.”

  “Necessary?”

  “Well, it is not very nice to talk about, but there are aspects of human nature which young girls wouldn’t know about. These baser sides to men’s natures have to be satisfied or there could be real trouble. People get frustrated. In that way they do terrible things … run amok. There is rape and other things too terrible to talk about. Your uncle, Annora, is doing a real service.”

  I looked at her in amazement. My mother always said she was besotted about her husband and if he told her black was white she would believe him. She saw him as perfect and nothing could ever change that. How right my mother had been. I could imagine Uncle Peter’s explanations to her, telling her of his nobility in running profitable clubs which kept just on the right side of the law and which were really a benefit to humanity—profligate humanity, it was true—but they had to be considered for the good of the community at large.

  “People just love something sensational,” went on Aunt Amaryllis. “Even the Queen is not immune. There is all this terrible scandal about Lady Flora Hastings.”

  I said that being away we had heard nothing of this.

  “Oh well, there is a feud going on between the Queen and her mother. They say the Duchess interferes too much and the Queen and she are not on the best of terms. Lady Flora is one of the Duchess’s household and when her body became swollen the Queen’s women put a rumour about that she was pregnant and it turned out that she wasn’t. There was a great outcry about it. People are saying the Queen is responsible. Lady Flora’s family are making a great fuss. I can tell you the story is all over London. So you see, even the Queen is not immune from what Peter calls the gutter press. She is not as popular as she was, but Peter says it will come back. It is just a temporary set-back … and that is how it usually is.”

  “We haven’t had much chance to see the papers yet.”

  “Oh, they are full of these little scandals. Headline news today and forgotten tomorrow.”

  “And all that was said about Joseph Cresswell and Uncle Peter …”

  “A nine days’ wonder. Your Uncle Peter is doing so much good. He always did, but more so lately. And you haven’t heard about Peterkin. He’s engaged to Frances Cresswell. She is a little older than he is, but your uncle is pleased. He said it’s a good thing. Peterkin is completely devoted to Frances and what a lot of good she is doing! Your father, Helena, has given them a great deal of money. It has been in the papers. They call him the Philanthropist of the Underworld. I would prefer just the Philanthropist, but he says it creates more interest to mention the Underworld. People notice and rather like it. Someone wrote an article saying that although he had made
his fortune through the clubs of the Underworld he gave so much back to charity that he has to be admired. The clubs were for the amusement of people who were not of the highest moral standard, but if so much was done for a worthy cause, credit must be given where it was due.”

  So that was what Uncle Peter was doing now. He had been exposed so he turned about and became a philanthropist. He had given his wholehearted support to Peterkin. Frances must be very pleased. She would not care how the money had been come by, as long as it was there.

  Should she have done? I was not sure. Immorality and morality had become oddly mixed.

  Aunt Amaryllis was very pleased to have—as she thought—made us understand about Uncle Peter’s business and to make us realize that, in spite of all the harsh things which had been written about him in the newspapers, he was really very noble.

  She was very affectionate towards Rolf and delighted that I was engaged to marry him.

  “Mama,” said Helena, “I want to stay for a while. At least for Annora’s wedding.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “And you must come, Annora, with your husband to stay with us. Your Uncle Peter will be so pleased to see you.”

  Dear Aunt Amaryllis, she wanted the best for everyone and what was so comforting about her was that she believed so earnestly that it would come about that one began to share that belief.

  Aunt Amaryllis returned to London having extracted a promise from Helena that she would go home after the wedding and that Rolf and I would visit them on the way to our honeymoon.

  Rolf was making arrangements.

  “We’ll go abroad,” he said. “I was impressed by Italy when I did the Grand Tour of Europe in my student days. I shall show you Florence. You will love it. And all the antiquities of Rome … and then Venice. What a country! Surely one of the most beautiful in the world.”

  I began to feel a little enthusiasm.

  “You’ll feel better when we are right away,” he assured me, for he had always understood my moods. “Then we’ll come back to our new life. We will be so busy there will be no time for brooding. We can go away when we feel like it. Between them Bob Carter and Luke Tregern can take care of things.”

  I was to be married in the chapel at Cador and it would be a white wedding as it was to take place in June.

  Jennie Tregore, wife of one of the farmers, had been a dressmaker by profession before her marriage and she carried on with it when anyone wanted anything made. I decided I wanted something simple and that she should make it.

  I often thought when Jennie was busy with the fittings, what an occasion my mother would have made of this. She would have wanted to go to London for my wedding dress. What excitement there would have been! How she would have loved it!

  I must stop thinking along those lines. I told myself so a hundred times a day, but I still went on doing it.

  I was thinking now about my honeymoon. I had always wanted to see Italy. My father had often talked about our going. Once more I was back in the past. I could see them all so clearly, sitting at the dinner table, Jacco arguing fiercely that it would be more fun to go to the mountains of Switzerland than the art galleries of Florence.

  I must stop.

  Yes, I thought. In London I will buy some clothes for my honeymoon. There! I was growing away from it if I could think about clothes.

  I noticed that Helena was becoming more and more uneasy about returning to London. She was afraid she would have to face a barrage of questions.

  “But your mother knows,” I told her, “and she will explain everything to your father. As for him, he has a way of making things right even if they aren’t. Peterkin and Frances will love to see you. They’ll understand.”

  “I wasn’t thinking so much about the family as people I shall have to meet—all those mothers who used to pity me because no one wanted to marry me, and when John did, looked on me with a sort of envy. They’ll crow now. Besides, what are people really thinking about my father and his business?”

  “They are thinking what he intends they should. He is a man of the world and now he is contributing in a very public way to charity. Your father is the sort of man who will be unperturbed by anything that happens to him. You must try to be like him, Helena.”

  “As if I ever could be! I’m not looking forward to it and you’ll miss Jonnie.”

  “Very much … and you, too. But we have to go on, Helena. We can’t just stand still. We have been through a lot and we have learned to grow away from it.”

  “You have that chance now … with Rolf.”

  “And so have you a chance … with Jonnie. Your mother will help. I think she is one of the kindest people I ever knew. You’re lucky to have her.”

  “She’s an angel but not a very practical one.”

  “You’ll be all right. Helena, suppose Matthew comes back.”

  “I suppose he will in time.”

  “How do you feel abut him?”

  “Very grateful. He’s a good man, isn’t he?”

  “He is dedicated to his purpose.”

  “Yes. He’s like Frances Cresswell in a way. Those sort of people want to do good. They are wonderful people … but they don’t always care so much for just one person.”

  “Do you think … if he came back, you would be together … that you could love him?”

  “I don’t think I shall ever love anyone like that but John.”

  “He should have gone on with the marriage, defied his family.”

  “He just couldn’t. He had to do what seemed right to him.”

  “If he had known about Jonnie …”

  “I didn’t want marriage on those terms … because he had to. I wanted him to marry me because he wanted to.”

  “He did want to …”

  “But not enough. You’re lucky, Annora. Rolf loves you … completely. There was a time when I thought you might marry Gregory Donnelly.”

  “Surely not. I loathed the man.”

  “He was so sure of himself. I thought he might find some way of forcing you to marry him.”

  “I can’t see how he could have done that in any circumstances.”

  “Well, you’re lucky. Rolf is our sort. You’ll be very good together. You’ve got all this. Just fancy. It’s yours. Oh, Annora, I hope you are going to be very happy.”

  “I’ll try to be,” I said. “And, Helena, you must, too. Don’t forget. You have Jonnie.”

  “The dearest treasure in the world.”

  We laughed; and then she wanted to see how my wedding dress was progressing, so I took her to the room where Jennie was working and we had a discussion about pleats and tucks and Honiton lace versus that of Brussels.

  Helena was getting ready to leave. The day after the wedding we should set out, Rolf and I, for our honeymoon, Helena and Jonnie for her father’s London home. Rolf and I were to spend a few nights there before going to the coast.

  Jonnie was almost walking now. He was just over a year old. He crawled along at great speed, then he would stand and after a few tottering steps sit down on the floor. There was no nanny. Helena had not wanted that. Most of the women in the house were only too glad to lend a hand looking after him if for any reason his mother or I could not.

  I was going to miss Jonnie very much.

  As my wedding day approached I began to grow apprehensive. It had seemed such a heaven-sent solution at first, for I knew that it would take me a long time to learn all that would be expected of the owner of Cador. Rolf was to teach me. He loved the place; he always had; and I needed someone to love me deeply. I wanted to be cherished. I had lost so much love. It was natural that I should turn to Rolf, the idol of my childhood who, knowing me so well, could understand the enormity of my loss. I often thought that if it had not been for that Midsummer’s Eve Rolf and I might well have been married long ago. Perhaps before I had gone to Australia. But that night could not be forgotten; and it was brought back more vividly one day about a week before the day fixed for the wedding.<
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  Rolf was still fascinated by the old customs of Cornwall. In his library at the Manor he had collections of books about them. He liked to take me there and he would get quite carried away talking of them. I was reminded of those times when he had visited us with his father and how he had held us all spellbound.

  On this occasion he was talking about old cures which the Cornish had believed in years ago.

  “There were white witches who did good with their cures,” he was saying, “and there were the kind who practised the evil eye and put spells on people so that disaster followed. Just listen to some of the things they did.” He opened a book. “Look at this. Whooping cough cured by filling a bag full of spiders and tying it round the neck of the poor child who had to wear it night and day. Here’s another. For asthma. ‘Collect webs, roll them into a ball and swallow.’”

  “Spiders seemed to have had a beneficial effect.”

  “Styes on eyes treated by touching the eyes with a cat’s tail.”

  “I believe they still do that.”

  “I’ve no doubt. Some old letters were found in the attics at Bray’s place. Tom Bray showed them to me. They are amazing. I must get him to show them to you.”

  We were standing at the bookshelves below which was a row of drawers. He pulled one out. “No,” he said, “not here.” Then he opened the next and I saw it. It was lying there and there was no mistaking it.

  I stared at it.

  “It’s that old habit,” he said. “I went to a ceremony once …”

  “I remember hearing about it.”

  “This is what we wore.”

  “You showed it to me once before … long ago.”

  “Oh yes, I did.” He had taken it out and slipped it on. I felt my heart racing. As he stood before me he slipped the hood over his head. His face was almost hidden.

  “It’s horrible,” I cried.

  He took it off and laughed at me.

  “I must admit it is rather gruesome. I’ll tell you why. It is very like the sort the executioners used to wear in the Inquisition. In this I looked as if I might have stepped out of an auto-da-fé.”