"We've had our ups and downs," he said. "There was that cold winter. We don't get winters here like we did in Scotland . . . but that was a cold snap . . . just for a few weeks and the bees didn't like it. Of course I protected them from the worst of it. They know that. They're grateful. More grateful than folks, bees are."
He made the tea and said it would be a good idea if I went out and had a word with the bees.
"Wouldn't want them to think you were standoffish."
I smiled. "Do you really think they would?"
"They know. But they'd take it as a good gesture if I took you out there. They know you're here. They knew before I told them. Sometimes I think bees know these things . . . quicker than we do. Lionheart, he'll sometimes know what's going to happen before it does."
The Jack Russell, hearing his name, wagged his tail. He was lying on the rug looking at his master with adoring eyes. The cat came and leaped upon his lap.
"Oh," he said, "mustn't forget Tiger. Tiger's a wise one, aren't you, Tiger?"
Tiger was black and sleek with slanting green eyes.
"What an unusual cat!" I said.
"Tiger's more than a cat, aren't you, Tiger? Tiger came to me one night. Outside the door he was . . . not exactly begging to come in. Tiger never begs. But demanding in a way. So he came and he's stayed ever since. Where did you come from, Tiger? You're not telling, are you?"
"You get great satisfaction from animals and bees," I commented.
"They're different from people," he said, "and I always got along with them better. I know them and they know me ... and we trust each other. There's Lionheart. Now in his eyes I can do no wrong. That's a good friend to have. Tiger . . . well, he's not so predictable. It's my privilege to have him, if you understand. That's how Tiger sees it."
"And the bees?"
"They're a cross between these two. We live side by side. I do what I can for them and they do what they can for me."
"It's a good life you've made for yourself here, Jamie."
He did not answer. His eyes had a faraway expression as though he were looking beyond the cottage and me and even the animals.
"It would be a good life," he mused, "but for Donald. I never know when he might find out where I am."
"Your twin brother," I said, remembering what he had told me in the past.
"If he were to come here, all this peace ... it would be gone."
"Do you expect him to come, Jamie?"
He shook his head. "There's whole days . . . weeks . . . when I don't think of him. I forget him sometimes for months at a stretch."
"Well, you've been here a long time, Jamie. It's hardly likely that he'll come now."
"You're right, Miss Caroline. It's foolish of me to worry. He won't come."
"Apart from that, you have made everything as you want it."
"I reckon that's so. Miss Tressidor has been good to me ... to give me this lovely house and garden to live in."
"She's good to all the people on the estate."
"I'll never forget what she's done for me."
"I'll tell her. But I think she knows. Did you really mean that you wanted me to see the bees?"
"Oh yes. We must do that."
He dressed me up in the veil and gloves which I had worn on a previous occasion and I went out to the hives. I felt a momentary panic when the bees buzzed round me, even though I knew I was well protected.
"Here she is," said Jamie. "Come to see you. Miss Caroline. She takes a great interest in you."
I saw some alight on his hands and some on his head. He was not in the least perturbed and nor were they. He must be right. They did know him.
Back in the lodge he divested me of the veil and gloves.
"It's wonderful," I said, "how they know you."
"No," he answered, "it's natural."
"They seem to have a thriving community. They don't seem to be bothered by the troubles which beset us humans."
"There can be trouble. Sometimes there are two queens in one hive."
"Couldn't the two of them live side by side?"
Jamie laughed. "They're like people after all. You couldn't have two wives in one home, could you? You couldn't have two queens ruling a country."
"What happened?"
"They fought. One killed the other."
"Murder!" I said. "In your ideal colony!"
"Jealousy is a terrible thing. There's only room for one ... so the other gets rid of the one in the way."
"You've spoilt my illusion."
"It's better to have the truth than illusions, Miss Caroline."
"So bees are not perfect after all."
The black cat sprang onto my lap.
"Tiger likes you," he said.
I was not sure. The cat was staring at me with its green satanic eyes. Then suddenly it settled down and started to purr.
There was a brief silence in the room broken only by the sound of the ticking clock.
There is peace here, I thought. Perfect peace. No, not quite perfect. I kept thinking about the queen bees who had fought to the death of one; and the niggling fear in Jamie's mind that one day his wicked brother would find him.
I received a letter from Olivia. It moved me deeply.
"My dear Caroline,
"I have great news for you. I am going to have a baby. That will make my happiness complete. Everything has been so wonderful for me since I married. Jeremy is so delighted. It was what we both wanted to crown our happiness. Jeremy wants a boy, of course. I suppose men always do. As for myself I really don't mind—except for Jeremy, of course. It will be quite soon. I put off telling people for as long as I could. I had a funny feeling as I always did about wonderful things— afraid that something might go wrong if I talked too much about them. So I kept it to myself. It will be at the end of July.
"I know you will share my joy in this. How do you fancy being an aunt? It's hard to imagine you as one. I do wish you would come up some time. I long to see you. I want you to promise that you will be the baby's godmother. Please write to me soon and tell me that you will.
"I love your letters. I can imagine it all. Perhaps one day I'll come to Cornwall. It will be difficult for a while because of the baby, but you must come here, Caroline. It is a long journey but I should so love to see you.
"Miss Bell is still here, of course. She is so excited about the baby. It will be a new one for her to 'governess'. I am afraid she felt her post here was something of a sinecure since I can hardly be said to be in the schoolroom now. She 'directs' me as she calls it. Jeremy is amused by her.
"You will think about coming, won't you? You will have to for the christening. It is usual for godmothers to attend.
"Do go on writing to me. I do so look forward to your letters. I love to hear about the Landowers and the people on the estate and of course Cousin Mary and the quaint man with the bees. I should have loved to see you in that veil and everything.
"With much love,
"Your affectionate sister, "Olivia."
Olivia a mother! It was hard to believe. I felt a twinge of envy. She had avoided telling me because she had been unsure of what my feelings would be. I had not been at her wedding. She knew why. Sensitive to a degree herself, she always thought of others. She put herself in their places. It was one of her most endearing qualities.
And Jeremy was a good, devoted husband. Of course he is, I thought cynically. He is living comfortably.
Dear Olivia! She had been used by him ... as I should have been ... as any woman would have been who had the means to keep him in the style to which he aspired.
I would be free and independent.
I thought of Jeremy—excited by the prospect of a child. I thought of Paul and a terrible desolation came over me.
A VISIT TO LONDON
I was finding the company of Cousin Mary more and more comforting. She was discerning enough to realize that I was far from serene and happy, and I believe she attributed this to Jeremy's treatment of m
e, and yet at the same time she was aware of an uneasiness in the relationship between myself and Paul Landower. She was too wise to attempt to probe obviously, and I knew she was trying to make life easy for me. To have been rejected as I had been was understandably a great shock to one's amour propre and naturally would colour one's relationships with every other man who crossed one's path for some time to come.
She believed in healing me by turning my thoughts in another direction and that was the management of the estate. She was right up to a point, for I found myself becoming absorbed in these affairs. I would sit with her and the manager, Jim Burrows, over the accounts; schemes would be discussed in my presence. I said little but I listened avidly; and I really did find myself forgetting everything but the matter in hand for long periods at a time.
There was a certain amount of entertaining.
Cousin Mary said: "I never gave myself up to it entirely. In fact I avoided it whenever I could, but since the Landowers have plunged into such activity with the coming of the new mistress of the house, entertainment in the neighbourhood has become more frequent."
It was not a large community although now and then squires from some way off visited Landower and there were house parties. We were never house guests, being so close, but we were invited to these gatherings. Gwennie revelled in them; she was, as she said, bringing Landower back to what it had missed for so long. I believed Paul disliked these occasions but Jago was amused by them.
Cousin Mary said: "She tries too hard to be a Landower, that's Gwennie's trouble. She doesn't realize that the very essence of what she is trying to achieve is a certain nonchalance. She quite misses the point. She tries to call attention to the fact that she is of noble birth, when the true aristocrat automatically assumes that there is no doubt of it. Poor Gwennie, I wonder if she will ever learn."
Cousin Mary gave small dinner parties—repaying hospitality, she called it. "We didn't have to bother until Gwennie's day," she complained.
Doctor Ingleton and his wife with their middle-aged unmarried daughter were visitors; so were the vicar, his wife and sister-in-law; the solicitor who lived in Liskeard and one of the directors of the bank were others—with their families, of course.
I was being caught up in the community.
"It is as well you get to know all these people as well as those on the estate," said Cousin Mary.
Each day she implied that Cornwall was to be my permanent home; and each day I wondered what I should do.
I avoided Paul and I believe he avoided me. I think we were both aware that there was a great attraction between us, and it must never be allowed to flourish. It was like a banked-up fire at the moment-smouldering. Instinctively I knew—and I fancied he did too—that it could flare up suddenly.
Relations with Jago were easier to handle. I met him often. He had a way of appearing when I rode out alone—and then of course he was always present at the gatherings.
I couldn't help enjoying his company. He was amusing, light-hearted, and all the time he kept up a bantering kind of flirtation which we both enjoyed.
I had the impression that he was not all that intent on seduction but would welcome it if it came. Jago had too many strings to his bow. He was the kind of man to whom sexual adventure was as natural as breathing. He was successful in his amorous adventures because of those striking good looks which together with his laughter-loving nature were irresistible to many.
He did not exactly pursue anyone, I was sure. Conquest came too easily, so there was no challenge. I reckoned I was one of the few who resisted him; in some cases that might have aroused a determination to succeed with me. Not so with Jago. He was all for ease and comfort. There was no need for him to attempt difficult tasks. All around him was easy success.
I was glad of this and amused by it. I had to admit that being in Jago's company did cheer me quite a bit. His attitude to life, I told him, was that of a butterfly, flitting from blossom to blossom, dancing in the sunlight, with no thought of the future. He retorted that he would never have believed butterflies had an attitude to life if I hadn't told him.
I used to remonstrate with him in a light-hearted way. "Remember what happened to the grasshopper?" I asked him once.
"I never was attracted by grasshoppers in general and am quite unaware of the fate of this particular one, which I presume by the tone of your voice was tragic, and a lesson to us all."
"Jago, you must know the Fontaine fable."
"I don't even know Fontaine."
"Of course you know it. Everyone does. The grasshopper sang and danced all through the summer and had nothing stored for the winter. He then tried to borrow from the ant. 'What did you do in summer?' asked the ant. 'Danced and sang very happily,' he replied. 'Well, dance now,' said the ant."
"I fail to see the analogy. Who is this ant? I realize you have cast me in the role of grasshopper."
"When you get old and grey ..."
"Perish the day! I shall never be old. It is not in my nature. I shall tint my locks if necessary. But I shall never be old or grey."
"You'll have to settle down one day."
"What do you mean by settle?"
"Live seriously."
"I am very serious. I am determined to enjoy living. I am completely serious about that."
It was impossible to talk gravely to him about anything. It suited my mood, and being with him always raised my spirits.
The weeks began to speed past.
I thought a great deal about Olivia. I had long conversations with Cousin Mary about her.
"It's always an anxious time having a baby," I said. "And I feel there is a kind of plea in her letters. I feel I ought to be there with her."
"Well, if you feel like that you should go."
"I can't make up my mind. I should hate it in a way. I don't want to see Jeremy Brandon again."
"That's understandable. Perhaps it is better for you not to go. You don't know what Olivia will be feeling."
"She would understand, I think."
"You'll go for the christening?"
"Yes, I'll have to go for that. Then I shall know that she is all right."
The days passed and anxiously I waited for news.
It came at the end of July, a letter from Olivia herself, written in a rather shaky hand, but there was no mistaking her joy.
"Dear Caroline,
"It is all over now. I am the happiest woman in the world. I have my baby. A little girl. Just what I wanted. Jeremy is delighted. He's forgotten all about wanting a boy. She's perfect in every way ... the most beautiful little girl that ever was.
"I have decided on the name. Jeremy wanted to call her after me, but I said it would be difficult with two Olivias. So we've compromised. She's to be Livia. And of course she must be named after her important godmother, Livia Caroline. What do you think of that?
"I did not know there could be so much happiness in the world. I long to see you and show you my treasure. The christening is going to be at the end of September.
"Oh, Caroline, I do so look forward to seeing you.
"With my constant love.
"Your sister, Olivia."
I was relieved that she had come through the ordeal safely. She had always seemed fragile to me. I thought a great deal about Olivia and her baby. I wanted very much to see her and the child. I wondered what it would be like meeting Jeremy again. I was sure he would be discreet. Perhaps I need not see much of him.
I called on Miss Gentle, who lived in one of the cottages on the Landower estate and who sewed for the two houses. She made some beautiful baby garments for me to take to London with me when I went, and for the weeks that followed my thoughts were completely occupied with what was to me a strange mixture of pleasure and apprehension.
I made my preparations, growing more and more uneasy as time passed and wondering what I should say if I came face to face with Jeremy. I would try to appear indifferent, but I wondered if my anger towards him would allow me to do so.<
br />
On the morning of the twenty-eighth, Joe drove me to the station in the trap and Cousin Mary came with me. She saw me into a first-class compartment, kissed me briskly and told me not to stay too long.
"I shall soon be back," I promised.
She stood on the platform waving as the train moved out.
I settled down. Always on this journey I would remember that one when I had sat opposite Miss Bell and had had my first sight of Paul Landower and Jago, who had come to play such a big part in my life.
I watched the scenery slipping past and was glad that I had a compartment to myself.
I was thinking how much the trains had changed since that first journey. Corridors had just come in and it was a great convenience to be able to walk from one compartment to another in certain sections of the train; there were now hot pipes running under the floor to take the place of footwarmers, which had been in use at the time when I had travelled with Miss Bell. So much change everywhere in such a short time. I was looking out of the window when I heard the door leading to the corridor open. I turned sharply. A man had opened the door and was standing there. I stared disbelievingly.
"Good day, Madam," he said. "Would you have any objection to my sharing this compartment with you." "Jago! What are you doing here?"
He laughed. He looked exactly like the boy who had suggested we play ghosts to frighten prospective buyers away from Landower. "I'm going to London," he said, sitting down opposite me. "I don't understand."
"Well, I thought I'd make the most of the opportunity." "Jago, you really mean . . ."
"I mean that I wanted to go to London. It is such a bore travelling on one's own. How much wiser to find a pleasant companion." "Why didn't you say you were going to London?" "I thought I would give you a nice surprise. I love surprising people ... and particularly you, Caroline. You're so worldly nowadays, so knowledgeable, so learned that it is wonderful to present you with something you hadn't thought of first."
"You must have got on the train at the same time as I did. I didn't see you."
"I was holding aloof while you made your fond farewells, and then . . . when you weren't looking, I slipped on ... and at the earliest possible moment I decided not to keep your pleasant surprise from you any longer. So here I am. Your travelling companion. Are you pleased?"