A voice in a broad Yorkshire accent said: “Hot water, master.”
The door was shut before I had a chance to see the owner of the voice.
“That’s the old powder-closet,” said Gabriel, indicating the door. ” I use it for my ablutions. You’ll find it useful. Lock both doors before you disrobe. One of the servants might come in.”
He fastened the leash on Friday. ” You don’t want to lose yourself on your first evening, Friday,” he said. And when he had gone I went into the powder-closet and there I saw the big hip-bath, the cans of hot water, the soap and towels. A big mirror in an ornate gilded frame was fixed to the wall, and attached to this frame were two gilded candlesticks in which candles burned.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes appeared to be more green than usual, and I found that they quickly strayed from my reflection and were looking over my shoulder, probing the shadowy corners of the powder-room.
Old houses in twilight. Was it possible that in such places the presence of those long dead lingered?
What ridiculous thoughts for a sensible young Yorkshire woman to entertain.
I took off my costume and began to wash the stain of travel from my person. To-morrow, in daylight, I should laugh at nay fancies.
We dined that night in a pleasant room on the first floor.
Gabriel had explained that on ceremonial occasions dinner was served in the hall. That was because the hall had been used for that purpose when the house had been built. ” The refectory table down there is as old as the house itself. But we have a small and more comfortable dining-room for the family,” he added.
It was a large room by Glen House standards; the curtains were drawn when I entered and there were candles on the table. I could see that living here was going to be a somewhat formal affair.
There were six of us at dinner. This was the family. Ruth and Luke I had already met. I now encountered Gabriel’s father. Sir Matthew Rockwell, and his aunt. Miss Sarah Rockwell; they both seemed very old, being in their eighties As soon as I met Sir Matthew I began to feel happier because he was quite obviously pleased to see me. He had been very tall but stooped a little; his hair was plentiful and quite white; his face was ruddy but too much of the port wine shade to be healthy; and his blue eyes, embedded so deeply in folds of flesh that they had almost disappeared, were bright—one might say jaunty.
” Gabriel’s lucky to have such a beautiful wife,” he said. Surely this was flattery for I was not beautiful and could not seem so even to old men of eighty. He kept my hand in his and then kissed it lingeringly.
I guessed that he was not too old for gallantry; he gave the impression that he had enjoyed his life and hoped the young members of his family would follow his example.
” You must sit beside me,” he said. ” I want to look at you and hear you tell me what you think of your new family.”
So I sat beside him at the dinner table and every now and then he would lean towards me and pat my hand.
Aunt Sara was quite different although I recognised the Rockwell features and fairness. Her blue eyes were vacant and she had an air of strain as though she were desperately trying to understand what was going on about her and could not quite catch up with it all.
I imagined her to be even older than her brother.
” Sarah,” shouted Sir Matthew, ” this is my new daughter.”
Sarah nodded and gave him a smile that was sweet in its innocence. I wished I had met these older people first. Then I should have felt I was being warmly welcomed. ” What is your name?” she asked.
” Catherine,” I told her.
She nodded; and whenever I looked up, I found her eyes upon me.
Sir Matthew wanted to hear about our meeting and the suddenness of our decision to marry. I told him about Friday.
” Gipsies,” he said. ” They can be brutal to their animals. I won’t have them on my land. I must say it was a lucky day for Gabriel when he rode that way.”
Luke said: ” He was always going away … riding off … and we never knew when he was coming back.”
” Why not?” said Gabriel. ” It’s the way to take a holiday. I hate making plans. You anticipate the pleasures of getting away and it invariably disappoints. No. Go as the spirit moves you … that’s my motto.”
“And look how well it turned out!” pointed out Sir Matthew, smiling at me.
” I must show Claire my tapestry. She’d like to see it,” said Sara.
There was a brief silence. Then Ruth said quietly: ” This is Catherine, Aunt. Not Claire.”
” Of course … of course …” murmured Sara. ” Are you interested in tapestry, dear?”
” I admire it, but I don’t excel at it. I’m not very handy with my needle.”
” I should think not,” retorted Sir Matthew. ” You don’t want to strain those fine eyes of yours.” He leaned towards me, his hand caressing mine. ” My sister is a bit forgetful. She wanders at times into the past.” He grimaced. ” No longer young … like myself alas!” They talked of the house, of the country surrounding it, of the stables which I was glad to hear were well stocked of their neighbours, friends, county hunts and life generally in Kirkland Moorside; and I felt then that they were doing their best to make me welcome, and that perhaps it was the strangeness of Gabriel which had made me doubt this in the beginning.
Ruth said that before the end of the week there would be a dinner party to celebrate our marriage, and that she would have arranged it for this evening had there been time.
” There are certain people you must meet,” she said. ” They will be most eager to meet you.”
“Whom do you propose to ask?” Gabriel put in quickly.
“Well … Simon, I suppose. After all, he’s part of the family. We shall have to ask Hagar too, but I doubt whether she’ll come. And I thought perhaps the vicar and his wife, and of course the Smiths.”
Sir Matthew nodded. Then he turned to me. ” We want you to feel at home, my dear, without delay.”
I thanked him and when the meal was over Ruth, Sara and I retired to a nearby drawing-room, leaving the men to their port. I was glad that they did not leave us long, for I felt uncomfortable with Gabriel’s sister and aunt.
Gabriel came to my side immediately and remarked that I looked tired.
” No doubt it has been a busy day,” murmured Ruth, ” We shall all understand if you retire early.”
I said good night to the members of my new family and Gabriel and I went up to our room at the top of the house.
Friday came out of his basket to greet us as we entered the room. It was clear that he, too, was finding it difficult to adjust himself to his new surroundings.
” Well,” said Gabriel, ” the worst is over. You’ve met the family.”
” Not all, apparently.”
“The rest are on the fringe. These are the ones you’ll have to live with. Before we retire I want to show you the view from the balcony.”
” Oh yes … your balcony. Where is it?”
” At the end of our corridor. Come now.”
He put his arm about me and we left the room and went to the end of the corridor where there was a door. He opened this and we stepped out on to the balcony. The moon was high in the sky and it shone its light on the scene about us. I saw the Abbey mins like a great ghost of its former self. I saw the dark river winding through the grassland and the black hump of the bridge, and beyond, away in the distance, the shadowy outline of the moor.
” It’s beautiful,” I breathed.
” When I’m away from here I dream of this view.”
” I’m not surprised.”
” Every night I come and look. I always have done since I was a child.
It was a fascination for me. ” He looked down suddenly. ” Two of my ancestors threw themselves over parapets—not this one. There are three others in the house. “