“They are going to talk about my being here.”
“Let them. But you are not a Tregarland, so perhaps that will modify the betrayal of the past. Now, there are several rooms leading from the hall. This staircase goes to the library and beyond that is the drawing room. That is the old solar. It is the best room in the house. We shall have tea there. It is very light, with semicircular bay windows—of a much later period than the rest of the house. They were put in over a hundred years ago.”
I followed him through the house. The west wing was in a dilapidated state.
“It has been much neglected,” he told me. “My plan is to restore the place completely.”
I could hear the pride in his voice as he pointed out the special features, showed me the restoration work he had already completed, and told me what he planned to do.
He said: “I can’t show you everything on one visit. This is just a cursory look round. We can go into it with more detail at some other time if you are interested.”
“I am,” I said.
“I’m glad because it is something of a passion with me. I want to make this house what it should be and what it was before it was allowed to deteriorate.”
He seemed different from the young man who had sat with me in those inn parlors drinking cider or mulled wine. It occurred to me that people could be very different against their own backgrounds. I felt that I was seeing him as he really was. He was really earnest about the restoration of his own house; previously I thought he could not be serious about anything and that life seemed to him little else but a joke.
In due course we returned to the solar which was filled with pale December sunshine. Tea was brought by a maid who could not hide her curiosity. I guessed that she knew I came from Tregarland’s.
I learned more about Jowan Jermyn.
He had owned the house for two years, although he had spent his childhood here. His father was the younger son of that Charles Jermyn on whose death the house had gone to Jowan’s father’s elder brother, Joseph.
“The house had been neglected for years,” he said. “I always had a special feeling for it. We had a place on the north coast, for, when my father married, he went to live in north Cornwall, where I was born. My mother never recovered from my birth and died three years after it. My grandfather had been artistic and was not interested in the material things of life. I came here and was brought up by my grandmother. Uncle Joseph was of a somewhat profligate nature. He was a great gambler and spent a great deal of time in London. He had little feeling for the country. His lack of interest grieved my grandmother. Uncle Joseph was an unsatisfactory Jermyn. He did not marry, although he had several children. He did not want family ties, and so on. He inherited the house in due course. My father, who loved this place, could not bear to be near and it not be his. He knew the way it would go because old houses need constant attention, and when some little deterioration shows it should be dealt with immediately. So I was deposited with my grandmother while he went to New Zealand. I was to join him when he was ready to have me. I did not want to go. I wanted to stay with my grandmother in this house.”
“But you came back to it eventually?”
“It worked out unexpectedly. I was eighteen when my father died. He had left his place in New Zealand to me. I did not want to go abroad; my grandmother did not want me to leave. She was very sad about the house, which was in a dire state by this time. Uncle Joseph was only interested in the revenues which came from the place.”
“And you went to New Zealand?”
“Yes. I was there for four years. Then I heard that Uncle Joseph had died prematurely, which was not altogether surprising. He had been drinking too heavily for years. My father was heir to the estate and, since he had died, it fell to me. I sold up everything in New Zealand and came home. I have been here ever since.”
“Your grandmother…?”
“You’ll meet her. She is in her room most of the time nowadays.”
“You mean she is here?”
He nodded. “Where else would she be? She loves me place. It is an interest we share.”
“And…what about the feud?”
He laughed. “She feels about that as I do…as you do. A lot of nonsense.”
“That’s the sensible view, of course.”
“Yes, but in spite of that, it has been going on for a long time.”
“It is due to the superstitious people around us. They have kept it going all this time.”
“I suppose it supplies a little excitement, something to talk about.”
“That’s so, and, of course, since the first Mrs. Tregarland died it brought it up again.”
“But the families were never friendly. We needed a visitor from ‘foreign parts’ to set it right.”
I laughed. “Do you think the fact that you have invited me here is going to change all that?”
“I think it is the first step.”
We talked for a long time and I glanced at my watch.
“I shall have to go,” I said, “Dorabella will be anxious to hear about this visit.”
He stood up and, taking my hand, helped me to rise. He held it for some time while he smiled at me. I felt deep pleasure.
“Before you go,” he said, “you must say hello to my grandmother.”
“I should very much like that.”
“Come on, then.”
He led me up a staircase, through a gallery to a corridor, and then up more stairs.
He opened the door of a room which was clearly a sitting room and, through an open door, I saw a four-poster bed. Mrs. Charlotte Jermyn was sitting in a chair, a piece of crochet work in her hands. She looked over the top of her spectacles as I came in.
“Grandmother,” said Jowan. “I have brought her to show you and to show you to her.”
She smiled. “Well, this is nice.” She had dropped the crochet into her lap and held out her hand.
“I’m a bit stiff today,” she said. “It’s my rheumatism. It is worse some days than others. They say this damp climate is not good for it. Well, Miss Denver, it is nice to see you here. Jowan has told me about you.”
“I am so pleased to be here and to meet you.”
She laughed. “It’s time someone put their feet through that nonsense. I guessed Jowan would be the one to do it. And now your sister is up there and you are a frequent visitor.”
“I came for the birth of the baby and shall be staying until after Christmas.”
“That is good. We always have a real Cornish Christmas here. We call it keeping up the old customs. Tell me about your sister and the new baby.”
I told her and we talked awhile.
Jowan watched us in an amused way, pleased, I could see, that we were getting on well together.
I was sorry that I had to leave, but I could imagine Dorabella’s impatience, so I said I must go.
“You’ll come again,” said Mrs. Jermyn. “I shall look forward to seeing you.”
It was with reluctance that at last I left.
Dorabella was very impatient to hear what had happened. She was eager to meet Jowan and suggested that he be invited to the house. To dinner? To lunch, perhaps, would be best for a start.
“He sounds fun,” she said, looking at me searchingly.
I knew what was in her mind, just as I knew what had been in my mother’s concerning Richard Dorrington.
I said: “You should make sure that the family approve. Don’t forget, this feud has been going on for a hundred years or more. You come into the family and want to break it up.”
“I want to break it up! Who fell off her horse and started it up by meeting him secretly, going to his house, meeting his grandmother…” She giggled. “All right. I’ll suggest it to Dermot.”
“I think Dermot’s father should be the one to make the decision. After all, he is the head of the household.”
“Very well. But I think he’d love it.”
“And what about Matilda?”
“Well, I suppose, now I am the mistress of the house. Matilda, after all, is only a glorified housekeeper.”