"But I want to."
"People are terrified of meeting them. Some won't go out after dark for fear of doing so."
She said: "I should be terrified." She shivered and laughed. "All the same I want to."
He laughed at the way in which she peered out of the window.
"These are just legends," he said. "That is what people say nowadays. But this is a land of strangeness. I hope you will be happy in it."
"I am happy. I think this is the happiest time of my life."
"Let us hope it will be the beginning of a happy life."
"I was far from unhappy in the Convent," she said, "but I wanted something to happen . . . something wonderful . . . like your coming for me and taking me away with you."
"Is that so very wonderful?"
She looked at him in astonishment. "The most wonderful thing that could ever happen to anyone in a convent."
He was alarmed suddenly. He leaned forward and laid his hand over hers. "We can't say that anything is good or bad until we see the effect it has upon us. I don't know whether I am doing the right thing. I trust I am, my child."
"But this is the right thing. I know it. It is what I always wanted. I wished and wished that it would happen . . . and you see, it has."
"Ah," he said lightly, "perhaps you are one of those fortunate people whose wishes are granted."
"I must be."
"Perhaps my daughter will take you to one of our wishing wells. There you can make your wish, and we will hope that the piskies will grant it."
She said: "I will wish now." She closed her eyes. "I am wishing for . . ."
"No," he said laughing, "don't tell me. That would break the spell."
"What a wonderful place this is! There are Little People, piskies and knackers. I am going to be happy here. I am going to be so good a companion for your daughter that you will be very glad you decided to bring me here."
She was silent thinking of all that she would wish for herself and others.
And eventually they went on with their journey.
It was dusk when they turned in at the drive of Trevenning. The woman at the lodge came out to curtsey and open the gate. Melisande wanted to ask a good many questions about the woman, but she sat still, her hands folded in her lap. She must remember that their relationship had changed. He was becoming more and more remote, more stern; she must continually remind herself that she was only his daughter's companion now.
She could see the hilly slopes about her, the great gnarled trunks of trees, the masses of rhododendron bushes, the pond, the great sweep of grass and then the house.
She caught her breath. It was bigger than she had imagined— almost as big as the Convent, she thought; but it was a home and would be homely. How rich he must be to live in such a house! No wonder he had paid the Frenchwoman's bill for clothes without a murmur.
The carriage drew up on the gravel before the front door. As she alighted from it she was aware of the stately grandeur of grey granite walls and mullioned windows. A manservant was waiting in the porch. He took his master's cloak and hat.
"Is Miss Caroline in?" asked Sir Charles.
"Yes, Sir Charles. She is in the library with Miss Holland and Mr. Fermor."
"Tell her I am home. No ... we will go there ourselves."
They were in a lofty hall, the walls of which were hung with portraits and trophies from the hunting field; rising from this hall was a wide staircase; and there were doors to the left and right. Sir Charles opened one of these and, as she followed him, Melisande was aware of the watching eyes of the manservant.
Now she could see a room lighted with candles; books lined one of its walls; there was a thick carpet; she was conscious of velvet curtains and an air of magnificence.
"Ah, Miss Holland . . . Caroline . . . Fermor. . . ." Sir Charles approached the three people who had risen from their chairs and were coming towards him. Melisande saw an elderly lady in pearl grey, a tall young man and a fair girl who was dressed in deep black.
Her hair, worn in ringlets, looked almost silver in contrast with her black gown.
Sir Charles greeted the three ceremoniously before he turned and beckoned Melisande forward.
"This is Miss St. Martin, your companion, Caroline. Miss St. Martin, Miss Holland, the aunt of Mr. Fermor Holland who is affianced to my daughter. And Mr. Fermor Holland . . . and my daughter, Miss Trevenning."
Caroline stepped forward. "How do you do, Miss St. Martin?"
Melisande smiled and the young man returned her smile.
"Welcome, Miss St. Martin," he said.
"I am sure Miss Trevenning will be delighted with your company," said Miss Holland.
"Thank you, thank you," said Melisande. "You are all so kind."
"Miss St. Martin has been brought up in France," explained Sir Charles. "It will be good for you, Caroline, to improve your French."
"You speak perfect English," said the young man, his blue eyes still on Melisande.
"Not perfect, I fear. Though I hope soon to do so. Now that I am in England I realize that there is a ... a wrongness about my speaking."
"Not a wrongness," said the young man. "A charm."
Melisande said: "But you make me feel so happy ... so much that I have come home. You are all so kind to me here .. . everyone."
Caroline said: "You must be tired after your journey, Miss St. Martin ... or would you prefer us to call you Mademoiselle?"
"It does not matter. Miss ... or Mademoiselle . . . please . . . say which is easier for you."
"I suppose you're used to being called Mademoiselle. I'll try to remember. I have had them prepare a room for you. Perhaps you would like to go straight to it?"
Before Melisande could answer there was a knock on the door and a woman came in, a small woman with black eyes and cheeks glowing like a holly berry in winter.
"Ah, there you are, Wenna," said Charles.
"Have you had a good journey, Sir Charles?" asked Wenna, and Melisande was struck by the odd expression on her face. She did not smile; there was no welcome in her face; she looked as though she hoped he had had a very bad journey indeed.
"Quite good," said Sir Charles.
Caroline said: "Wenna, this is the young lady whom my father has brought to be my companion."
"Her room be ready," said the woman.
In that moment Melisande was deeply bewildered. She was conscious of the uneasiness of her benefactor; of Caroline she knew
nothing, for Caroline at this moment was wearing a mask over her features. The elderly lady was gentle and meek; she would be kind. The young man Fermor was kind too; he was offering her the kind of friendship which she had come to expect. She had seen it in old Henri's eyes, in those of his grandson, in those of Armand Lefevre and of many men who had smiled at her during the journey, who had opened windows for her or handed her something she had dropped. They had all smiled as though Melisande was a person whose friends they would wish to be. And that was how Fermor was smiling.
But now she had caught the eyes of Wenna upon her. They startled her, for they were almost menacing.
PART TWO
TREVENNING
Jo Melisande was at Trevenning.
Sir Charles drew the curtains about his bed and lay down; he was shut away from the house, he felt, shut away from the room with a hundred memories of Maud.
Have I done right? he asked himself again and again. How could I send her to work in another household where she would be welcomed neither in the servants' hall nor as a member of the family but in that unhappy limbo somewhere between?