Gwennan, I thought, you can rely on me, no matter what happens.
I turned and we went out of the room.
“I had her laid out,” said the proprietress. “I suppose her family will see that everything is taken care of.”
“Yes,” I said. “Her brother—my husband—will come as soon as he receives the letter. I came in response to a letter from her. He does not know yet, but as soon as I return he will … besides he will soon have your letter.”
She nodded. ‘This sort of thing is so upsetting to the rest of the residents. I know you will understand.”
“I do.”
“And the child?” she asked anxiously.
“I will take him back with me.”
“I am sure that will be the best possible arrangement I'll take you to him now.”
He was sitting on a red hearthrug thoughtfully examining the toes of his little boots when I opened the door. A young girl was sitting in a chair watching him.
She smiled at me. “He’s been as good as gold,” she said.
I went over and knelt down on the hearthrug. There was no question about this one’s being a Menfrey. He had the same tawny hair and eyes; and the sparkle was there in his eyes. He couldn’t have been more than a year old, but he was bright for his age.
“Hello, Benny,” I said.
“Hello.”
“I’m Aunt Harriet.”
He nodded. “Aunt Harriet” He had no difficulty with the name, which told me that he had heard it before.
He gripped my arm to help himself up; then he came close to me and studied me intently. I looked at the smooth skin, the short nose, a replica of Gwennan’s with its flaring nostrils. I would never forget Gwennan while there was her son to remind me.
“Are you coming with me?” I asked.
He nodded, his eyes immediately sparkled with the spirit of adventure, which had been the characteristic and perhaps the ruin of his mother.
“We’re going to Menfreya,” I said.
His lips formed the name with ease, and I knew he had heard that before too.
“It’s time we were going,” I told him.
My return could not have been more dramatic. I had managed to get a fly at Menfrey stow station, but it was almost eight o’clock when I reached Menfreya and there was beginning to be great concern about my absence. I might have gone out during the afternoon without saying where, but I should most certainly be back in time for dinner.
Bevil had invited guests and dinner was about to be served—Lady Menfrey was there fortunately to play hostess, but of course they were expecting to see me.
I could sense the tension as I stumbled into the house, carrying the sleeping child in my arms.
I heard Pengelly’s startled exclamation; and suddenly it seemed that Bevil, my parents-in-law and their guests had all appeared on the staircase.
Often I recall that scene with a smile. It must have seemed like a nightmare. The truant returned—not alone but carrying a child in her arms.
I heard Bevil’s voice. “Harriet! What hi God’s name ...”
I said: “Gwennan is dead. I’ve brought her baby home.”
Lady Menfrey came running down the stairs. “Harriet… Harriet… what do you mean?”
Bevil was beside me; I was aware of strange faces; but I was so exhausted by the journey, by my emotions, by my fears for the child’s reception that I felt I could endure little more.
“You’ll be hearing tomorrow,” I said to Bevil. “There’s a letter from the hotel where she is. She died this morning. He’s to be called Benedict Menfrey. That is her wish.”
Lady Menfrey took the child from my arms; the tears were running down her cheeks, but I could see that she would love the child—already she had someone to fill Gwennan’s place in her heart It must have been what Gwennan had hoped for.
“You’re exhausted,” said Bevil sharply.
“It’s been an exhausting day …”
“We have guests,” he said, not sharply but in a bewildered way.
“I’m sorry,” I replied.
A woman whom I knew as the wife of one of the party workers took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you worry about us, Mrs. Menfrey. You need to rest … now.”
I smiled at her gratefully, and Bevil said: “You should go straight to bed, Harriet” He turned to the guests. “Please excuse me for a moment”
He followed me to our room. He shut the door and I waited for the storm to burst. What had I done? I had jeopardized his chances. The scandal Gwennan had brought on the family would now be publicly known—and it was all my fault.
I felt the stubborn lines forming about my mouth. I held my head high and limped painfully to the bed. I sat there looking at him.
“There was nothing else to be done,” I said hi a cold, angry voice. “I should never think of doing anything else.”
And then I thought of Gwennan lying on that bed, white and calm in death as she had never been in life, and I covered my face with my hands.
I felt him take them very gently in his. “Harriet,” he said; and his voice was tender.
“Dead!” I said. “Gwennan! She was always so full of life.”
He did not speak but looked at me sorrowfully.
“The child is going to stay here,” I went on, forcing anger into my voice to hide my grief. “I shall look after him. And if you won’t have him here, then … I shall take him away.”
“Harriet, what are you saying?”
I tried to draw my hands away from his grasp for I was afraid of my emotions. It was too much to endure. Gwennan dead … never to see her again … and Bevil hating me because I had gone against his wishes and brought the child to Menfreya.
He put his arm about me and held me against Mm. “Of course, the child will stay here. And so will you. Listen to me, Harriet Menfrey, you think you’ve married a brute … perhaps you have. And I’ll tell you this. There is one thing he won’t endure. That is life without you … so get that into your head.”
“Oh, Bevil, Bevil,” I said weakly.
He just held me and I felt comforted.
He was practical suddenly.
“I’m going to send Fanny to you,” he said. “My mother is looking after the boy. There’s nothing to worry about” He kissed me. “You must know that”
He left me and went back to our guests who, I was sure, would be agog with curiosity. I wondered what story he was telling them, but I was too tired to care.
Fanny came to me, and I let her help me to bed; when I was there I lay back on my pillows quietly, and although I was relieved because I had brought the child to Menfreya, thinking of Gwennan brought a sadness which was like a physical pain.
Benedict’s presence was easily explained at Menfreya. Gwennan had eloped with an actor, whom she had married against the family’s wishes; she had died, and now her son was at Menfreya, which was a perfectly natural state of affairs. The boy was known as Benedict Menfrey, which was just like the Menfreys. It wasn’t the first time the family name had been retained. There had been a daughter who bad inherited the estate, and when she married, her husband had to change his name.
It was a house of mourning, and when I humbly told Bevil how sorry I was for misjudging him, he said: “You were right in a way, Harriet. I should have insisted she come home.”
William Lister, that silent-footed and efficient young man, who had the great quality of seeming to remain unnoticed except when he was wanted, went to Plymouth with Bevil and between them they made arrangements for the funeral; and Gwennan was buried in the Menfrey vault in the churchyard on the hill just outside Menfrey stow.