"Yes, that."
"My dear Olivia, look at you! Plump, revelling in married life . . . with a doting husband and a perfect baby . . . what are you talking about?"
"I know I've got all that . . . but it just occurred to me."
"That's like you, Olivia. You're always afraid good things won't last for you. I thought you'd got over that."
"I have. Life is good. But I was just thinking . . . that was all. Forget I said it."
I kissed her.
"It's done me a lot of good to see you, Olivia. Things have worked out well for you and you deserve all the happiness there is. May you always be as happy as you are now."
"I'd like you to be happy too, Caroline," she said wistfully. "Jago is very attractive. I think he likes you."
"He does . . . along with the entire female population that is not too old or ill-favoured."
"You are cynical."
"It suits me to be."
"Your time will come."
I patted her hand. I thought the conversation was drifting towards danger.
I said: "I shall have to think of going fairly soon."
"Stay," she begged; and I said I would for a few more days.
I did go to see Rosie. I was determined to do that. Ethel knew me now and I was taken straight to Rosie's room.
She greeted me warmly. She made me sit down and once more she sent for wine.
She talked a little while before getting down to the reason why she had asked me to come.
She had progressed rapidly since she had seen me, and she had been moderately comfortably off then. She had told me that Robert Tressidor had been obliged to help her to independence, but that was not good enough for Rosie Rundall or Rosie Russell. She had had good friends. They had invested for her. They were men who really knew what they were doing and her capital had increased. She had had a gentleman friend who had advised her and helped to set her up in business.
"No strings for Rosie," she said. "I wanted everything my way and in time I bought him out. This is my empire now. I've another place like this one ... or almost. Not quite as grand yet, but that'll come and I've got plans for another. Dresses as well as hats . . . accessories and things."
"Rosie, you have genius!"
"Not me. I've got loads of common sense though. Oh ... and something else . . . energy. I say to myself, 'You're going to do this, Rosie. No matter how hard it is, you're going to pull it off.' And then I have to. It's the way I've always worked."
"I am so pleased for you. Do you ever see any of the people who were in the house when you were a parlourmaid?"
"Oh yes. I keep in touch. That's how I know what I know. I have other sources though. In the beginning I had to keep a few things dark —just till I got going. Then I thought, To hell with it. I'm myself and that's what I'm going to be. Where I am nobody's going to pull me down. Oh yes, I prefer to keep in touch with the people I knew in my less comfortable days. That's how I get to know what's what."
"What do you know?"
She hesitated. "I wondered whether I should talk about this. I'm not sure. I don't know what can be done about it either."
"What are you trying to tell me, Rosie?"
"Well, Robert Tressidor must have left Miss Olivia well off."
"He did. Most of the money went to her."
"There were charities and things. They got a good share."
"Yes, they did. But Olivia had the bulk. She is quite rich, of course, and she has the house and the house in the country. She runs a big household . . . just about the same, I imagine, as when her father was alive."
"Well, I have friends. They come and see me now and then. I'm the sort who's been able to keep my friends. I always liked the independent life. Some of those jaunts of mine I used to enjoy but most of them were a matter of business. I don't need that sort of business now. Sometimes I have a steady gentleman friend . . . but it doesn't mean all that much to me. What I was saying I have kept a lot of my friends and that's how I hear things."
"It's not like you to take so long to get to the point, Rosie."
"I know. I'm just wondering. I don't want to put a word out of turn. I could be quite wrong. Well, the fact is, that husband of your sister's . . . he's playing the tables pretty recklessly. I heard that he'd got to be pretty rich to keep up that sort of play."
"Oh ... I see," I said blankly.
"I know what can be lost in some of those clubs in a night. It's a mug's game. I couldn't speak to Miss Olivia about it. I thought you might be the one to mention it."
"It's a horrible situation. Jeremy Brandon . . . gambling her fortune away. What will become of Olivia?"
"I don't suppose it would get all that bad. She may have money of her own which he can't touch."
"He'd get round Olivia. She couldn't keep anything back from him. I feel rather alarmed."
"It may be only a rumour."
"What can / do about it, Rosie?"
"I don't know. I wondered if you might speak to him."
"Me! Speak to him! You know what happened between us."
"He threw you over when he knew there was no money. I reckon he's a real gambler."
"I couldn't bear it if anything went wrong for Olivia. She's so happy."
"Well, perhaps it's one of those storms in a teacup. I just thought I'd put you in the picture."
"Olivia doesn't seem to be short of money, does she? I mean . . . she pays her bills to you?"
"On the dot. I wish there were more like her. I expect I've raised something where there isn't anything. Forget what I said. It was just that it was on my mind. I always had a special soft spot for you and Miss Olivia. See if you can find out whether she's anxious. She might know ... If he's asked for something . . . selling out bonds and shares and things. She ought to stand firm. I know a bit about finance myself and how easy it is to come a cropper."
"I'll see if I can probe a bit. But I don't see how I can ask outright."
"Of course not. Don't let her know that I've put you up to it."
"I won't, Rosie. It's good of you to be so concerned."
"Money has to be handled with care. There's some like me who started with none. We make it and have a special reverence for it. But there are others who have to get it somehow and they seem to think it's just there for throwing away."
"A pity they're not all wise like you, Rosie."
She winked. "I wouldn't want too many rivals. But having laid my hands on a bit, I'm not letting it go. With men like Jeremy Brandon it's 'Easy come easy go.' Perhaps it's because he's so different from me that I'm suspicious of him. He might win it all back one day. There's good luck around as well as bad and somebody's got to get it sometime."
"So it's the money. I was really rather afraid it might have been another woman."
Rosie was silent and I looked at her sharply.
"Is there?" I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I know nothing definite. There's always talk. There is a woman . . . Flora Carnaby . . . rather a flashy sort. He's been seen with her. Nothing serious, I imagine. She's just there at one of the clubs, working there, I think."
"Oh dear. Poor Olivia!"
"She wouldn't have an inkling."
"People might tell her. You know what they are. All her illusions would be shattered. One of the things which has made all this acceptable to me is Olivia's belief in the goodness of life and him and everything."
"She'll go on believing in it all. It's common enough, you know. I couldn't tell you the number of model husbands I've come across in the course of my life."
"It's horrible. I want none of it. Wise women like you and my Cousin Mary keep out of it. They know what they are doing. They are dignified and independent. Oh dear, I do hope Olivia never finds out
"She won't. I tell you it's commonplace. She's not the probing sort and Flora's not the girl any sensible man would leave home for. Forget it. I'm sorry I told you. I've worried you. It was the money that I was concerned about . . . more th
an the girl."
"I feel I want to look after Olivia, protect her."
"Yes, I know. One feels like that with Olivia. But in the long run it often seems people like her are better able to look after themselves than the rest of us. They are protected by their innocence."
"Rosie ... if anything happens . . . will you tell me? Will you write to me?"
"Honour bright, I will do that. Now stop fretting. How did you like the hat?"
"Very much."
"You looked a picture in it, I bet. I expect everyone was saying, 'Who is the girl with the green eyes?'"
"I think most of them were concentrating on the smaller girl with the blue eyes. It was Livia's day. There was no doubt of that."
"That fellow who came with you. Now he was something."
"You mean Jago Landower."
"He'd got his eye on you."
"Among others."
"One of the rovers. Oh, I saw that. He'd need a firm hand."
"I've no intention of supplying it."
"Yes, I see he's too much every woman's man to be any one's in particular."
"You should know. You're a connoisseur of the sex."
"Men are like hats. Either they suit you or they don't."
"I can hardly believe that any of them would be flattered by the comparison."
"Remember I have a great respect for hats," said Rosie. She lifted her glass. "To you, dear Caroline and Olivia. All the very best that life can offer and that's quite a lot."
I raised my glass.
"And the very same to you, dear Rosie."
That evening I found myself alone with Olivia and I said: "I suppose you are very rich, Olivia?"
"I suppose so," she answered.
"This is a costly household. It is just the same as it was when your father was alive."
"There are very few changes. I don't have to worry about money."
"Does anyone do the worrying for you then?"
"Jeremy, of course."
"I see," I said. "And he's quite happy with the arrangements? I mean ... it doesn't worry him?"
"Not in the least. He understands about money."
I thought, I know he has a great appreciation for it, but does he know that even a large fortune can be squandered in a short time?
She looked so trusting and contented, how could I arouse suspicions in her mind? Moreover it was only conjecture. How could I say, "Rosie has heard rumours that your husband is losing money at the gaming tables . . . money you brought to him"? Perhaps it was only a rumour. He could have been seen to lose a little and people would start fabricating all sorts of stories about him.
There was nothing I could do.
I said to her: "Olivia, you would write to me ... if you needed to confide anything?"
"But of course."
"Don't forget I shall want to know all about my goddaughter."
"You shall," said Olivia dimpling.
"And . . . about you yourself," I added.
She nodded. "And in return I want to hear about those amusing people you meet down there."
"And don't hesitate to write about anything . . . just anything. If something goes wrong . . ."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you never know. You often used to keep things to yourself. I want you to tell me if anything worries you."
"Nothing is going to worry me."
"But if it should, you will?"
"Yes, I will."
"And write and let me know everything that Livia does. First smile. First tooth."
"Too late for the first smile."
"All the rest then."
"I promise. And do come again soon."
"Yes, I will. And wouldn't it be fun if you came to Cornwall?"
"Perhaps when Livia is older."
So we talked and I consoled myself that Jeremy could not be losing a great amount of money, otherwise she must surely know.
Jago left at the same time as I did and the journey back passed speedily and pleasantly. Joe was waiting for me.
"Miss Tressidor 'ave missed 'ee something terrible, Miss Caroline," he told me. "She have been as touchy as a bear with a sore head. You can guess what she's been like."
"I have never known a bear ... let alone one with a sore head."
"You're a funny one, you are, Miss Caroline. Proper touchy, she's been. All happy today though. I see Mr. Jago was on the train with you. He's been away as long as you have."
"Oh?" I said noncommittally.
I wondered how soon that information would be passed round.
"Reckon he's been to Plymouth. Still a bit of to-ing and fro-ing with them Landowers. Mind you, it ain't like it was afore they come into the money."
I thought: I am indeed back, back to local speculation and gossip, back to a situation which I must keep in hand.
As we passed Landower I wondered whether Paul had noticed my going and how he had felt about it. Suppose I went back to London. Perhaps I could help Rosie sell her hats. I should think that would be an eventful career.
How amusing ... the daughter of the house—who had turned out to be no true daughter—going to work for the parlourmaid—who was no true parlourmaid.
Things were not always what they seemed.
Did I want to go away? No. I should hate to. I wanted to be free with Cousin Mary and why not admit it? With the chance of seeing Paul Landower and dreaming—and hoping—that we could pass together out of this unsatisfying state in which we found ourselves.
Cousin Mary was waiting for me. There was no mistaking her joy in my return. "Thought you were never coming back," she grumbled. "Of course I came back," I said.
"NO LONGER
MOURN
FOR ME"
Memories of Olivia stayed with me after I had returned. Cousin Mary wanted to hear all about my visit and I told her. I mentioned that Jago had travelled up with me.
She laughed. "One can't help liking Jago, eh?" she said. "No, of course one can't. He's a bit of a rogue but a charming one. I daresay he'll be marrying soon."
"He won't have to be so concerned with bolstering up the family fortunes as his brother was."
She looked at me sharply. "It's a pity. Jago ought to have been the one to have done it. It wouldn't have affected him half so much. He would have just gone on in his old way."
"Would he have looked after the estate?"
"Ah, there you have a point. Well, it's worked out the way it has and Jago will, I daresay, settle down in due course."
She was looking rather slyly at me.
"He won't with me," I said, "even if he had the inclination—which I doubt."
"I think he's fond of you."
"As I have said: and of every member of the female population under thirty and perhaps beyond."
"That's Jago. Well, well, it'll be interesting. But he did go up to London remember. What did Olivia think of him?"
"Charming. But then she would be inclined to think everyone charming—and he was very pleasant." I told her about Rosie and her comments.
She looked grave. "It would be in character, wouldn't it? Yes, indeed it would. Well, there's nothing you can do about it. Perhaps it's a temporary embarrassment. I suppose people sometimes win. Otherwise they wouldn't do it, would they? As for that woman . . . some nightclub hostess . . . that wouldn't be serious and it's inevitable, I reckon, with a man like that."
Enthusiastically I described the baby. She gave me some oblique looks which I knew meant she thought I was hankering after one of my own.
I answered her as though she had spoken. She was accustomed to my reading her thoughts. "Being a godmother is quite enough for me."
"You might change your mind."
"I hardly think so. Unfortunately one can't have a family without a husband and that is something I really can do without."
"You'll grow away from all that."
I shook my head. "There are too many about like Jeremy Brandon."
"Oh, but they're not all like that!"
"My circle is rather limited, but in it there are two who sold themselves for a mess of pottage. Very nice pottage in both cases, I must admit. A fortune and a grand old house. Well worth while both. No. I have nothing to offer so there will be no suitors for my hand."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that."
"I'm sure enough . . . and of my own feelings."
"I've often thought that you could get rather bitter, Caroline. People do, I know . . . when these things happen to them. But it doesn't do to judge the whole world on one or two people."
"There is my mother. I doubt whether she would have found Alphonse so appealing without his money. Poor Captain Carmichael couldn't stay the course, could he? He was handsome and charming . . . more than Alphonse."
"You shouldn't dwell on those things, dear."
"I have to see the truth as it is presented to me."
"Forget it all. Stop brooding on the past. Come out now. I want to go along to Glyn's farm and then I want you to have a look at the books with me. Everything is getting very profitable. Very satisfactory, I can assure you."
She was right. I threw myself into the work of the estate. I was becoming absorbed in it, and I realized how I had missed it while I had " been away.
There came the occasional postcard from my mother. Life was wonderful. They were in Italy, in Spain and then back in Paris. Alphonse was such an important businessman. She was in her element. There were so many people who had to be entertained. Alphonse wrote to me and said he would be delighted for me to join them. There was always a home for me with them if I wished it. But at least why not come for a visit? He was as enamoured of my mother as ever and I imagined she was of use to him in his business. She certainly knew how to entertain and there was no doubt of his delight in his marriage. My mother was less pressing in her invitation and I gathered she did not want a grown-up daughter around to betray her age.
I would not wish to go with them. While I was working here with Cousin Mary I could forget so much which was unpleasant.
Soon after my return I rode out to the moors. It was my favourite spot. I loved the wildness of the country, the wide horizons, the untamed nature of the place, the springy grass, the clumps of gorse, the jutting boulders and the little streams which seemed to spring up here and there from nowhere.
The country was colourful—its final splash of colour as the year was passing. The oaks were now a deep bronze; very soon the leaves would be falling. There were lots of berries in the hedgerows this year. Did that mean a cold winter?