Gossamer Cord

He was a strange man. I could not help feeling that he was someone quite different from the person he appeared to be. I was not sure whether I was repulsed or drawn to him.

He said suddenly: “Do you propose to call on Mrs. Pardell again?”

“We are not really on visiting terms. In due course I might be allowed to see if the plant is flourishing. That is all.”

A slight smile touched his lips.

“If you go,” he said, “be careful on that path. The way round the top road is much longer and you’d have a steep descent to reach the cottage.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll risk the path. But I shall have to wait until the plant has taken root, or whatever it has to do.”

He smiled. “You certainly don’t sound like the dedicated gardener.”

“No, I am not.”

He was looking at me with a quizzical expression. I knew he was asking himself how I had managed to insinuate myself into Cliff Cottage. It must seem like a very calculated operation to him, and he must be wondering why I should take so much trouble merely to talk to Mrs. Pardell.

He said: “I shall have to leave you here.” He looked at his watch. “I have to meet someone in five minutes.”

“Goodbye,” I said.

As I walked back, I thought it seemed rather a strange encounter, but I had spoken to him more during it than I had all the time I had known him.

That afternoon I met Jowan Jermyn in the field at the spot where the tree had fallen.

It was clear that he was delighted to see me.

Dorabella had been feeling very tired and was resting, otherwise it would not have been easy to get away. I had been out all the morning.

I did not tell her about my adventure with Mrs. Pardell. I was not sure how she felt about that first marriage of Dermot’s, and I did not want to upset her in the slightest way.

She did not protest when I went off. I think she was content because my mother and I were there and if she wanted us, one of us would be at hand.

She would be amused when I told her about my meeting with Jowan Jermyn, for she was already taking an interest in him and was intrigued by the manner in which we had met.

He had been waiting for me.

“Right on time,” he said. “I do like punctual ladies.”

“I am always punctual, unless, of course, something unforeseen happens to prevent it. We were brought up to believe that it was the height of rudeness not to be. My mother used to say that to be late implied that you were not very eager to come.”

“What an excellent doctrine! And your sister…she is the same?”

“Well…”

He laughed. “And how is she?”

“A little tired, I think. My mother will be there if she wants company.”

“That is nice. Now, away to the moors and the Horned Stag.”

“It sounds rather ferocious.”

“Wait till you see the creaking sign over the door—a venomous beast—enough to drive customers away rather than entice them in. But it is a cosy spot and there isn’t another inn for some miles.”

I was fascinated by the moor. There was something rather eerie about it. I could see no sign of human habitation. Here and there great boulders stood out among the grass and away in the distance was a ring of stones which looked like figures.

“The moor!” announced Jowan. “What do you think of it?”

“Strange. Uncanny in a way.”

“You’re not the first to think of that.”

“Those stones…one could think they were people.”

He brought his horse close to mine.

“At certain times of the year,” he said in a tone of mock awe, “they say they come to life, and woe betide anyone who sets eyes on them.”

“What?” I cried.

He laughed. “You look scared. Don’t worry. They won’t come alive for you. They did once—so they tell me—for poor old Samuel Starky. That was fifty years ago. Poor Samuel, he came into the Horned Stag crying, ‘They’m all alive. The Stones have come to life! Death and destruction is to come to Bandermoor!’ That’s the name of the little village which I’ll show you later. ’Twill be destroyed this night.’ You see, the grocer’s wife had run off with the postman, and the grocer had taken a woman into his house. Sodom and Gomorrah had come to Bandermoor, and the Stones had come to life to wreak vengeance.”

“And what happened to Bandermoor?”

“Oh, it went on in its peaceful way and the Stones remained. Oddly enough, people still think there is something supernatural about them. Well, this is the Horned Stag. Take note of the animal. Isn’t he fearsome?”

“I think it is because the paint round his eyes has become a little blurred.”

“What a practical young lady you are! Practical and punctual. I like it. Come along.”

We first took our horses to the stables and then went in. The inn parlor was almost a replica of that of the Smithy. Tankards of cider were brought to us.

“I believe you are getting quite a taste for the stuff,” he said.

“It’s certainly very pleasant.”

“Tell me,” he said, “when shall you be leaving us?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

He grimaced. “So soon? But you will be here again?”

“I should think so.”

“Your sister is quite well?”

“I think everything is going according to plan.”

On a sudden impulse I told him I had met Mrs. Pardell.

He was surprised.