"Well that ain't telling us nothing," said Mrs. Soady. "Mr. Meaker saw that much."
Mr. Meaker was glad to seize an opportunity. "And a handsome wench, she was, Mrs. Soady. Healthy and shapely." He curved his hands to indicate the curves of Melisande, smiling as he did so.
"Give over!" said Mrs. Soady. "I'll warrant Mr. Fermor had his eyes on her."
"He had indeed, Mrs. Soady," put in Bet. She looked slyly at Peg. Bet lacked Peg's buxom charms so she was glad Mr. Fermor had noticed the stranger, for that would put Peg's nose out of joint. Bet knew—if others didn't—what Peg was. Peg came from West Looe, Bet from East Looe; they were natural rivals. Peg always took Mr. Fermor's hot water up in the mornings, and sometimes she stayed a long time and came out flushed and giggling. Bet knew; and it would serve Peg right if others knew and Peg was sent packing to that cottage on the quay whence she came.
"And what did you see, Bet?"
"Well," said Bet, with a titter, "I don't rightly think that Miss Caroline is all that pleased with the companion her father's brought from London."
Mr. Meaker said: "Master Fermor is a real gentleman. There's many like him. I remember Mr. Leigh up to Leigh House. Not the present Mr. Leigh, but his father. He was a man for the maidens. Some say it brought on his end . . . prematurely." Everyone looked with respect at Mr. Meaker who had the manners and speech of a gentleman and who liked to baffle them with the use of words
unfamiliar to them. Mr. Meaker looked round the company and laughed. "I remember old Lil Tremorney; she was in his bed . . . regular, so I heard, when she was employed up to Leigh House."
"Now, Mr. Meaker, there's young people present," said Mrs. Soady, "and young people as is in my charge.''
"I beg your pardon humbly, Mrs. Soady ... I beg it humbly. . . . But facts are facts and best faced."
Mrs. Soady wanted to get back to the subject which interested her.
"And from foreign lands they say she do come."
"She do talk like to make you fair die of laughing," Peg put in; and others who had heard her speak confirmed this.
"She be French, I've heard," said Mrs. Soady. "Like as not Mr. Meaker will tell us how we calls a young woman that's French. T'ain't Miss, I do know for sure."
Mr. Meaker, who was delighted to be called upon to give information, explained that French ladies if unmarried—and they could be sure this young person was—were called Mamazel.
"There now!" said Mrs. Soady admiring Mr. Meaker's knowledge of the world. "Fancy that."
"When I was serving the tea," said Annie the parlourmaid, "after dinner 'twas ... in the drawing-room ..."
"We know when you serve tea, Annie," said Mrs. Soady sharply.
"Well then I heard Mr. Fermor say to her: 'You're very charming . . .' I think it were . . . and I forget what else."
"You should remember better," said Mrs. Soady. "What did Miss Caroline say?"
"She were terrible put out—you could see that."
"I can't think what's come over the master," said Mr. Meaker. "If he were a man like old Mr. Leigh it would not be outside my comprehension to see him bring a young female into the house. But we know the master for what he is; and for the life of me I cannot see why Miss Caroline wants a young female companion."
"And such a pretty one!" said the footman.
"Well," said Mrs. Soady, helping herself to more taddage, and pushing the dish along the table to be passed to Mr. Meaker, "I'd like to see our young lady married, that I would . . . and that quick."
"What about the recent death in the family, Mrs. Soady?" asked Mr. Meaker.
"I don't know, I'm sure; but I do know that that wedding ought not to be put off too long. There's no knowing what'll come to pass . . . and now we've got this young female in the house ..."
She stopped for a mouthful. Everyone was eating, but while they savoured the delicious food, they were all thinking of Mr. Fermor and his roving eye which reminded Mr. Meaker of old Mr. Leigh.
They were sorry for Miss Caroline; and they thought of the newcomer who was—in the footman's opinion—the prettiest, tiddliest little thing you'd find from Torpoint to Land's End.
Melisande lay in the big fourposter bed. Her clothes had been unpacked by Peg and were now hanging in the wardrobe. She had bathed in the hip bath with the hot water which Peg had brought her. She was living in luxury, she told herself.
The room was charming and a fire burned in the grate, although it was summer time, sending a flickering glow to reveal the velvet curtains and the carpet which were the colour of ripe rich plums. She had blown out the candles before getting into bed, for the fire gave her all the light she needed. She had drawn back the window curtains and peered out, but it was too dark to see anything.
What a different bed from the one which had been hers at the Convent! This was an ancient bed; most things in the house seemed ancient; it was a real fourposter, with an ornate tester, and silk curtains about it.
As she stretched luxuriously she reminded herself that she was really a sort of servant in this house. It would be necessary to please Caroline; and she would not be easy to please. The young man, Mr. Fermor—he would be very easy to please. Ah, if she were to be his companion, how much easier that would be!
She laughed at the thought. He had sat near her while she had drunk the strange tea in the drawing-room. She had been talkative, too talkative. "We never drank tea in the Convent," she had told him. "It has a strange flavour. I like it ... oh yes I like it. I like everything that is English. It is all an excitement . . ." And he had laughed and leaned towards her and asked questions about the Convent. She who did not know how to restrain herself, and had not even thought it necessary to do so, had rattled on, occasionally breaking into French. "I have learned English, yes. But to write it . . . that is easier. To talk . . . one must think fast . . . and the words do not always come. ..." What shining blue eyes he had! She liked him. Yes, she liked him very much. He made her feel happier than anyone had since she set foot in England, more than Sir Charles had when he had been so kind. Why, she was not sure. Was it because all the time he seemed to be telling her how much he wished to be her friend ?
"You have an unusual name," he had said, "Melisande. It is charming. I wonder why you were called Melisande." "How can we know the reasons for the names when we do not know our parents!" she had said. And somehow that had shocked them all. . . all except the young man. "Mine is a family name," he told her, "handed down and down through generations. Fermor. It's as unusual as yours." That had made a bond between them. He was very friendly. He had said that they must have seen when she was in her cradle how charming she would be when she grew up, and they had given her the most charming name they could think of because of that. "It is you who are charming," she had said, "to say these charming things to me and make me feel so happy."
She had acted wrongly. She realized that. Sir Charles was not pleased; nor was Caroline. They were queer people, those two, not like herself and Fermor. That was another bond between them; they said what they wanted to say.
Perhaps she had been bold; she had talked too much. She had forgotten that she was but a servant in the house. "Be humble," Sister Eugenie had said. "Remember it is the meek who inherit the Earth."
Caroline had watched them all the time. She had said: "I am sure Mademoiselle is very tired." And the way in which she said Mademoiselle made Melisande feel that she was indeed a servant in this house. Then Caroline went on: "I am not going to allow her to be exhausted by your chatter."