“So, I’m safe,” I said rather lightly.
She answered: “It is as though the evil which threatened has receded. I can’t explain more than that.”
It was clearly the influence of Maria. I often wondered what became of her. She went away taking nothing with her. It was all very strange.
Edwina embraced me. “Take care, Linnet,” she said.
And I wondered whether she was still a little uneasy about me.
That year slipped away almost unnoticed. I was glad that Maria seemed to have been forgotten; I felt that was better for Senara’s sake. The Red Room was still the haunted room, but Maria’s name was only occasionally mentioned.
Senara was growing up to be a normal little girl and the only difference between her and the others was her exceptional beauty. The devotion between her and Tamsyn had not diminished but was even more marked. Senara who had a tendency to naughtiness could be called to order immediately by Tamsyn.
I spent a great deal of time in the nursery. I was teaching the children so this was necessary. I dare say I was prejudiced, but my daughter’s quick mind was a delight to me. Her affectionate nature charmed me and perhaps most of all that protective streak which was so marked in her relationship towards me and towards Senara.
I tried to shut out my doubts and fears about Colum. I had my children; and my mother was not so very far away. I knew that she had suffered a great deal because such a long distance separated her from her mother, so I told myself I had much to be thankful for.
If I had never discovered the nature of Colum’s business, I could have been very happy during those years. There were to be two more of them before I realized that they were but a lull, a waiting period, and that the storm which had begun to gather about me had merely receded and could return and break over my head.
During those years the country remained at peace although there were skirmishes with Spain, the perennial enemy. The defeat of the Armada had saved us from invasion but it had not completely eliminated the enemy.
It was a sad day for the country—and particularly for the West Country—when we heard that Sir Francis Drake was dead. He and Sir John Hawkins had set out with a fleet of men-of-war to attack the Spanish settlements in the West Indies. Both of them had died. If they had but stayed at home, both of these men would have lived. It seemed a pity that Sir Francis who had done so much good should have gone away to die. He had brought water to the town through the river Meavy and had built six mills for the grinding of corn. He went into Parliament—representing Plymouth, naturally—and he had organized the building of walls and fortifications there.
My mother was sadly angry. “So much good he did in peace, why did he have to go on this expedition? What did it matter that the Spaniards had a treasure store in these places? Let them keep it. Better so than that a great man should lose his life in attempting to take it.”
But that was the way of such men. “He died as he would wish to die,” growled my father.
Then there was the apprehension when he heard that the Spaniards had taken Calais. Did this mean that our enemies were rising again? The Queen entered into an alliance with the French, but they were not liked much more than the Spaniards.
There was great rejoicing when Admiral Howard plundered Cadiz. My father talked of it for a whole year. “The Spaniards’ losses amounted to twenty million ducats,” he gloated.
We would hear such news and then there would be silences of months. What happened in the capital affected us little.
I was now visiting my mother often. The more I made the journey, the less arduous it seemed. The children were getting a little older and that made it even easier.
My relationship with Colum was changing. I was no longer so necessary to him. There were occasions when the passion flared up between us, but at others he seemed almost indifferent to me. He was away a great deal more than he had been. I had learned that it was unwise to ask where he had gone. Nor did I wish to know. I shut myself away. I could see no way out of my situation. I must accept Colum and what he did or refuse to and leave him. To leave him meant leaving my children. That I could not do. So I did what seemed to me the only thing I could do. I shut my eyes to what I did not want to see and I stayed.
My visits to my mother were my salvation. Sometimes my father was there; sometimes he was not. The Landors I knew were frequent visitors but they were never there when I was. It was not only due to my earlier relationship with Fennimore but to the fact that I had married Melanie’s husband. My mother, with her extreme tact, arranged that our visits never coincided.
I heard that the trading company was doing well. It now owned a fleet of ships. Trade was proving very profitable, and there was an amalgamation of several trading companies who could well be incorporated under a charter.
“Of course,” my mother said to me on one occasion, “it is Fennimore Landor who is at the heart of the business. Your father is enthusiastic at times and then his enthusiasm wanes. His heart is really in buccaneering, but I tell him that more good will come to our country through trade than all the fighting. He won’t agree and then he instances the case of the Great Defeat. I know it had to be and I know it was glorious, but the expense almost crippled this country as well as Spain. How much better it would have been if they had gone about their peaceful ways.”
I knew she was right and I knew also that my father would never agree with her. And how I wished that Colum would join them instead of plying his horrible trade!
There was one matter which surprised us both. Since the birth of Tamsyn I had not conceived. Sometimes I thought that this was something to do with my state of mind. I was willing myself not to have another child. I might say that I did not want a murderer of men and women to be its father. Yet how many of us could say that we were not the children of such? Not I, certainly. My father had killed many men for the simple reason that they were Spaniards or because he wanted something they had. That somehow seemed different. He risked his life in the killing. Colum lured men to their death simply that he might salvage their cargoes. Deep within me I could not reconcile myself; I think too that I believed that some opportunity would arise and then I would escape.
If I could be free of him, if I could take my children away, if I could go back to my old home, could I start afresh and be happy?
I did not know. I sensed somehow that this was a waiting period. My children were no longer babies. They were growing up fast. Later on, I promised myself, I shall make a decision.
Then the strange thing happened.
I had been to Lyon Court for several weeks and returned home.
It was a hot still day. The children were pleased to be back home as they always were, although they enjoyed Lyon Court. Looking at the castle Towers as I rode up, I felt the thrill I always did when I had been away for some time. The first that came into view were Ysella’s and Seaward Towers, and I could never look at Ysella’s without thinking of that day when I had been shut in there. I could still smell the musty damp smell of stale sea water. I thought too of the ridiculous legend of the two wives who lived so close to each other and never knew of the other’s existence. It would always be with a kind of apprehensive fascination that I returned home.
Connell was eager to see if Jerry the groom had looked after his dogs and falcons during his absence. Tamsyn, Senara and I went to my bedchamber, and Jennet and the little girls went off to their own room together.
I looked about that bedchamber of many memories. There was a strangeness about the place on this day. Was that so, or was I imagining it? When I came back after an absence the antiquity of the place forced itself upon me. Lyon Court was modern in comparison and modern houses seemed less touched by the past.