That shook him. He stared at me blankly for a few seconds; then he said sharply: “Where?”
“In a squalid room in Plymouth.”
“Good God!”
“She’s got a child.”
“And this… actor?”
“She’s left him. She was never really married to him.”
He was bewildered. I could see him trying to imagine this terrible thing which had happened to proud Gwennan; and at the same time one thought would keep intruding into his concern for his sister. He was picturing her coming back to Menfreya with her child. There would be scandalized comments; his father’s indiscretions would be recalled. “These wild Menfreys,” they would say. “Are they the people we want to represent us in London?” And there was Harry Leveret, waiting, ready to slip into Bevil’s place.
“She’s ill. She wants the boy to be brought up here … as a Menfrey.”
“It can’t be, Harriet!” he said, and his voice was almost a whisper.
“When you’ve seen her, Bevil, you’ll realize it must be.”
“There must be some way out of this. Well take care of her, but if she comes here … with a child and no husband … and a possible election hi view.”
“I know it will be difficult,” I said. “But this is Gwennan.”
“You must leave this to me,” he replied firmly.
I looked at him intently, wondering how well I knew my husband. I was disappointed. I bad thought he would feel as I did, and that was that we must tell the family at once of Owennan’s plight, and we must bring her back to Menfreya Without delay.
“I will go and see her tomorrow,” he said. “In the meantime say nothing to the others.”
I had to be satisfied with that I was certain that when he saw Gwennan he would be as horrified and moved as I was, and I was sure that Gwennan would soon be home.
It was late the next day when Bevil returned from Plymouth. I was alarmed when he came alone.
I was waiting for him as he entered the house.
“Gwennan…” I began.
“She’s all right,” he said. “You needn’t worry.”
“All right? But…”
“She decided that she wouldn’t come back, after all.”
“Wouldn’t come back! But…”
“She saw what it would mean if she did. She didn’t want to make trouble. She says that she’s caused enough already. She’ll be well looked after.”
I was suddenly angry. He had been there, talking to her, making her see how her presence might influence bis career. He had made it impossible for her to come back.
“I’m going to see her,” I said. “I’m going to talk to her.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t you believe me, Harriet?” he asked coldly. He was tired, I could see—physically and emotionally. I understood that Gwennan’s return would not send up the family’s credit in the neighborhood, but it seemed to me that the only thing that mattered was that we should look after her.
“I don’t know what to believe,” I said.
“In that case, rest assured that I have done all I could for her.”
“All you could?” I demanded. “For whom? For Gwennan or the good name of the family, which is so important now with an election pending?”
“For heaven’s sake, Harriet, don’t be a fool! It hasn’t been very pleasant, I can tell you. Gwennan won’t come home. But she will be all right. She’ll have an allowance, and the child will be cared for. You didn’t mention this to my mother? She’d be most upset”
I shook my head.
I went up to our bedroom and sat at the window overlooking the sea. I thought: He was determined not to have her back. He thinks it’s enough to see that she has money. But it isn’t enough. She’s crying out for Menfreya. I thought of her mother—kindly, ineffectual. She had accepted the rule of the Menfrey men, as I would never do. I was one of them now, but I was determined always to be myself.
That was my house on the island there. If Gwennan couldn’t come to Menfreya she could come to the island house. From there she would see Menfreya, and she would be happier for it.
I had made up my mind. Tomorrow I was going to Plymouth to see Gwennan.
In the morning Bevil was like his old self. It seemed to me that in bis mind the affair of Gwennan was neatly marked off as finished. He would probably see bis solicitor and arrange for an allowance to be paid to her, and later he would look after the boy’s education. He might even visit her at regular intervals. But in my opinion that wasn’t the sort of attention Gwennan needed.
I said nothing of the affair, and this must have deceived him. He talked as usual while we breakfasted together.
“There’s going to be some pretty hard campaigning, and I want you to appear with me. We ought to make a tour of the villages and outlying districts. I think you might develop a flan- for that sort of thing, Harriet.”
I was pleased to be included. To be with bun, sharing his life, was what I wanted more than anything. I was interested in the lives of the people whom we represented. I loved the work I did when I went to Lamella. Very often we were able to help some of the old farm workers who were afraid of being turned out of their cottages. Bevil had very strong feelings about looking after the elderly. He said it was inherent hi the old landowning classes and had been bred over the generations. He wanted to modernize some of the fishermen’s cottages along the coast which had been standing for several hundred years and although highly picturesque were scarcely sanitary. There were all these matters to be dealt with; and Bevil was working indefatigably for the people. He would work for those people, I told myself, yet I suspected he would not allow his own sister to come back to her home, and all because he feared scandal. I understood his fears to a certain extent, The battle for his seat was going to be a fierce one, and danger had loomed up from an unexpected quarter. I knew very well what would be said by our opponents. The father was involved hi a scandal and as a result there was not a Menfrey in Parliament for several years. Now there’s Gwennan Menfrey who went off to Plymouth and comes back with a baby and no father for it! There are the Menfreys for you. Are they the sort of people you want to represent you in Parliament?
Radical strength was growing in the country. The influence of William Ewart Gladstone, though he had been dead for some years, was becoming a legend even in constituencies which had been notoriously Tory for generations.
Harry Leveret had a score to settle with the Menfreys, and he had the resources of a millionaire to put behind his campaign.
“We’ve got a fight on our hands, Harriet,” said Bevil, “and you’re going to help me win it. This afternoon I’m going to take you into Lamella to meet the agents and some of the workers. I’ve told them my wife wants a part in the campaign.”
I was scarcely listening. I thought: I'll go to Plymouth as soon as he has left and I'll be back in time to go to Lamella with him. But I must see Gwennan. I must understand why she has changed her mind.
I loved Bevil, but I must retain my own personality. I should never become the kind of woman Lady Menfrey was —without a will of her own, a slave of her menfolk. If Bevil and I were going to build up a worthwhile relationship, he must understand that I was no shadow of another person— not even him. I must be myself.
As soon as Bevil had left I sent for the carriage and drove to Liskeard, where I caught the train to Plymouth. I would return by the midday train and the carriage was to meet me.
For the second tune I walked down the narrow street and opened the door into the squalid rooming house.
I went up the stairs to Gwennan’s room and knocked. There was no answer. I opened the door.
“Gwennan,” I called. “It’s Harriet.”