While I looked at myself in the mirror—feeling pleased with the effect—Bevil came hi and, taking my shoulders, stood behind me looking at our reflection.
“Very effective,” he commented. “You look as if you’ve stepped out of one of the canvases in the gallery. But then you often do.”
I waited for him to say something about the new governess, but he didn’t, and that, even at this stage, seemed suspicious. Surely it would have been the most natural thing in the world to talk about the new arrival, particularly as we had known her in the past.
So we went down to dinner. It was Sir Endelion—in his new puckish mood—who called attention to the fact that no extra place had been laid.
Lady Menfrey said: “But we are expecting nobody.”
“What of Miss Trelarken?"
Lady Menfrey looked uneasy. “But, Endelion, she’s the governess now.”
“Now! But her father used to come here to dine. You cant banish people belowstairs when in the past they’ve dined at your table.”
“She isn’t banished belowstairs,” pointed out Lady Menfrey. “She has a tray in her room. That has always been the custom with governesses. They always had trays in their rooms because naturally they would not expect to eat in the servants’ hall.”
Bevil said nothing, but I could see that the bronze color of his skin had deepened. He was concerned about the outcome of this; and I felt certain that if I had not been there he would have joined in to support his father. The advent of Jessica had already changed him; he bad become less frank, as though he were a man with something to hide.
“My dear, you can’t put Jessica Trelarken in the servants' hall. She’s a lady.”
“She’s a governess DOW, Endelion. Alas, so many ladies have to become governesses … or companions. It’s the only course open to them when they’re left penniless as poor Jessica was.”
I was watching Bevil. I thought: She will be here every evening. It’s impossible. She must stay in her room … at least that.
I said: “My governesses never dined with my father. They always seemed to prefer a tray in their rooms.”
“My dear Harriet,” laughed Sir Endelion. ‘This isn’t your governess. It’s Jessica Trelarken. An old friend of the family. That’s so, eh, Bevil?”
Bevil hesitated for a second. Then he said: “The Trelarkens used to dine here now and then. I suppose we ought to show Jessica that we don’t regard her as a servant.”
“Governesses are not servants” I said. “They take some meals with their charges.”
“She can’t dine with hers at this hour,” retorted Bevil. “Unless she takes it at his bedside while he sleeps.”
Pengelly was hovering. My newly sharpened wits, which were already beginning to frighten me, assured me that in the servants’ hall they would be talking. Of course, she didn’t want her. Nor did my lady. It was the men who were determined to have her. Titters! The suspicion running through the house penetrating every corner.
“Has Miss Trelarken’s tray already gone up?” asked Lady Menfrey.
“No, my lady. That’ll be after the family has finished,” said Pengelly gravely.
“Then,” put in Sir Endelion, “lay another place. Then go to her and tell her we expect her to dine here with us.”
Pengelly inclined his head, signed to one of the girls to lay another place, and disappeared.
In five minutes Jessica came in. She was wearing a plain black silk dress, which she must hurriedly have slipped on when she received the summons, but there was no sign” of hurry about her.
She hesitated at the door, but I believed that to be studied hesitation.
Sir Endelion said: “Sit down, my dear. Of course, you’re to dine with us. Trays in rooms! Whoever heard such nonsense. Many’s the time your father has sat at this table.”
“Thank you,” said Jessica calmly. Pengelly held the chair while she sat.
She smiled, demure, serene, but unsurprised. It was clear that she did not think it strange that the governess should dine with the family. It could not have happened in other places where she had worked. But this was different. This was Menfreya.
Oddly enough, the change affected everybody. Jessica Trelarken seemed to illuminate the house in an oddly sinister way, making me see everything and everyone differently, so that I felt unsure of myself and wondered whether, after all, I was naive and without knowledge of the world.
She was so serene, but I was soon asking myself whether it was not a deadly serenity. Everything about her was quiet. She moved noiselessly; I often found that she had come into a room without a sound; one was unaware that she was there until one looked up and caught the blaze of her beauty.
Her beauty! No one could be unconscious of it It was rare beauty, and none could deny it It was perfection of feature; there was not a flaw in that perfect face. Her skin was smooth and seemed to glow. I had seen such a complexion only once or twice before; her hair was smooth, yet vital. She had everything, this woman—except fortune.
And it was inevitable that the presence of such a person in the house should have its effect upon us all. She seemed to bring out characteristics which had lain hidden within us. My father-in-law had always been charming to me; I had not seen a great deal of him, but when we had met our encounters were pleasant. I believed that he welcomed me into the family because I was an heiress, perhaps; but nevertheless he had been very friendly—fatherly, one might say. Now I was aware of a puckish streak in his character. He had known that Bevil had at one time been attracted to Jessica Trelarken; then why had he brought her into the house? There were times when I believed that he was mischievous — like a boy who puts two spiders into a basin and takes pleasure in watching them fight. Perhaps, I thought, he never forgets that he once lost the seat for the Menfreys, and it was only recently that it had been regained.
Whenever such thoughts occurred to me I dismissed them as hastily as I could. I was sure that but for Jessica Trelarken they would never have come into my mind.
Then there was Lady Menfrey. I had never thought her a very strong character; I knew she had given way to her family continually; but now she seemed cowed; and I noticed that she meekly accepted Jessica’s authority.
Fanny? She had become wary—furtive, almost In the past she had always been frank with me; now I had the feeling that she was holding something back.
Bevil? Naturally he who had always admired attractive women could not but be affected by her presence; in particular he had admired Jessica, and it was clear to me that he still did.
And myself most of all. I seemed to lose the attractiveness which being Bevil’s wife had given me. I had tried to follow —and with some success—that rather strange look of another century which the topaz gown and snood had brought out in me. People said of me: “She’s not conventionally good-looking, but that strange other-worldliness about her is attractive.” I knew it made me stand out, even among prettier women; and I wanted to stand out — for Bevil.
With the coming of Jessica it seemed to drop from me. I felt plain, as I had hi my childhood, and the feeling had its effect on my looks. My limp seemed more obvious; but perhaps that was because when I was happy I could forget it; and I was certainly not happy now.
Worst of all, I was becoming suspicious. Distrust had crept into my mind and it would not be dismissed. I was becoming watchful and alert; and each day these feelings grew stronger.
I tried to throw off my jealous fears, but they persisted.
Ever since Benedict had come to Menfreya I had been his special friend, for he had seemed to put me in the place of the mother he had missed; I had always spent some of the day with bun, and he looked forward to my visits. Some-tunes I took him out for a walk, or now and then I rowed him over to the island house, which he loved. He was always clamoring to be taken, and the row across delighted him.