“I know I have been very ill.”
“You were indeed … apart from the fever. You seemed so distressed. You kept muttering to yourself. You mentioned the pool once or twice.”
I felt a sharp shock run through me. What had I said when I was delirious?
“Pool …?” I repeated foolishly.
“I suppose it was St Branok. Well, there was talk about it. The usual. People hearing the bells down there. Who ever heard of bells underwater?”
“Have they been saying they heard them … lately?”
“I did hear it mentioned once. Someone was going past at dusk and thought he heard the bells. It’s in their minds, if you ask me.”
“Yes, I expect so. There have always been people fancying they hear the bells.”
I changed the subject. I did not want to talk about the pool; but I was disconcerted that she had noticed my preoccupation with the place.
A few weeks had passed. I was out of my room now. I took walks round the garden. My hair was beginning to grow. It clustered round my head giving me the appearance of a boy; but my mother said she was sure it was growing very fast indeed. Everyone was so pleased when I came downstairs. I rode out with my father who would not let me go alone. Nor did I want to. I did not ride Glory now. She was in disgrace, poor creature, having been accused of throwing me. I muttered an apology to her and would have preferred to ride her, but they insisted that I did not. My father was anxious that I should not be overtired; so the rides were short.
There was news from London.
“They have all been so upset by your illness,” my mother told me. “Your Aunt Amaryllis has not let a week go by without writing. She is so delighted that you are getting better and always sends love and good wishes from them all.”
“Dear Aunt Amaryllis,” I said. “She is so good to everyone.”
“My mother always used to say that she sailed through life quite unaware of evil and therefore evil passed over her; and she never saw it even when it was very close to her.”
“It is a good way to live. But then if you don’t see evil how can you avoid it?”
“It is true. But Amaryllis is so good herself that she thinks everyone else is the same. So she sees no evil, hears no evil and speaks no evil. Therefore for her it does not exist.”
“It is wonderful for her but everyone cannot be like that.”
I wondered what she would have thought if she had been confronted by a murderer as I was at St Branok Pool.
Everything came back to that. I must stop myself brooding on it. I had to remember Ben’s instructions. “Tell yourself you fell from your horse when you were riding along the shore. Make yourself believe it.” But I could not make myself believe something which did not happen. Even Aunt Amaryllis would not have been able to do that.
My mother came to my bedroom. I had to rest in the afternoon—doctor’s orders—although it was not necessary to sleep unless I wanted to. My mother used to sit with me.
It was one of those occasions when she brought Aunt Amaryllis’ letter to read to me.
“Dear Annora,” she had written:
We are all so absolutely delighted that Angelet is recovering so well. Poor darling, what an ordeal for her. But she is young and healthy and I am sure will soon be quite well. We are longing to see her … and you all, of course. I was thinking that when she is a little stronger, Angelet might like to come up to London and stay for a while. It is not in the country, of course, but a change is always good. Do think about it. We’d love to have her … and you, of course. Peter joins in my good wishes and says he hopes Angelet will come to see us. He always had a soft spot for her, you know. He says she reminds him of Jessica of whom he was really very fond.
Benedict has left us, so we are missing him rather. Such a lively young man!
My mother smiled thinking, I was sure, how like Amaryllis it was to take the result of her husband’s youthful indiscretion to her heart.
He did enjoy his stay with you, but he was so upset about Angelet’s accident and illness. I gathered he was the one who was with her when it happened and that he brought her home. He seemed really unhappy about it, and he hated talking of it. It seemed to upset him.
Although he enjoyed being with you, I don’t think he wants to go into estate management. Peter thinks it would be too quiet a life for him. What do you think? He’s gone back to Australia. He has a project. You may not have heard of all the excitement there has been about the discovery of gold in Australia. Well, Benedict has gone back to find gold. He expects to come back a rich man.
Peter didn’t really want him to go. After all, he has only just found him, but he did not want to stand in his way. He said it was just the sort of thing he would have wanted to do himself when he was young. Peter thinks the chance of making a fortune from the Australian goldfields is a remote possibility—as all the good stuff must have been found long ago, but he thinks it will be good for the boy to have a try. He said he would regret it all his life if he didn’t go. He would imagine he had lost opportunities. So he has gone out there and we now await the return of the golden millionaire.
I suppose he is almost there by now. Benedict does not let the grass grow under his feet. Peter says he reminds him of himself when he was young—which is rather nice.
Well, don’t forget. We should be delighted to see Angelet and you in London to stay for a while. I am sure it would do her good.
With much love, Amaryllis
So Ben had gone away to a new country. I supposed that was the best way of forgetting. I felt a tinge of resentment, as though the burden of our secret had been left to me to bear. That was foolish. He had to make his fortune. He would come back.
And then I shall see him again, I thought. In the meantime I must keep our secret.
We did not go to London that year. I know my mother was very worried about me. I had changed so completely. The impulsive, rather garrulous girl had become a quiet, secretive one. It must have seemed strange that my illness should have changed my character. Sometimes I was on the verge of confessing for if they only knew what had happened to me they would understand.
But I was resilient and ebullient by nature and I gradually found myself forgetting my secret for long periods at a time. Then I would have a dream or something would remind me and memories would come back to me and I would revert once more to the quiet withdrawn girl.
I knew they were puzzled and was deeply touched by their concern for me.
Mrs. Penlock tut-tutted at the sight of me. “A beanpole, that’s what you are, Miss Angel. You want to get a bit of flesh on them bones of yours. I could make you a beautiful taddage pie. That’ud put some life into you, that would.”
I used to enjoy her taddage pies, made with young suckling pigs; but I had no desire for them now. She was always trying as she would say “to tempt me,” as though food was the cure for all ailments.
They were all very kind to me and when they saw my spirits lifted were so obviously pleased that I felt I must cast off my melancholy to please them.
In any case I was coming to terms with it.
We were getting very friendly with the Pencarrons who owned the tin mine close to the moor. They were a very old Cornish family and had originally come from somewhere near Land’s End. They had owned a mine there which had been worked out and that was why they had come to our neighborhood. They had acquired the mine which was now known as Pencarron Mine, and their house was Pencarron Manor. Since they had arrived some ten years before, they had become part of the community.
Morwenna was a quiet girl, rather serious; she suited my mood at that time; she did not ask questions and although she was a year older than I she would follow me. She was very good-natured and hardly ever ruffled her governess. Miss Derry was friendly with Miss Prentiss and they took pleasure in comparing their pupils. I was sure I suffered in the comparison.