Gossamer Cord

On Boxing Day we were invited to the Jermyns. It was a buffet supper and there would be dancing. Dermot, Dorabella, and I went. It was amusing and there were people there whom we had never seen before.

There were two whom Jowan had met when he was traveling on the Continent: Hans Fleisch, a young German, and a Frenchman, Jacques Dubois. They were painters who had found inspiration in the wild Cornish coast and were staying at an inn nearby.

They were lively and amusing, and they clearly thought Dorabella charming and paid considerable attention to her, which delighted her.

It was a pleasant evening and confirmed once again that all the nonsense about feuds was at an end.

I was sorry that I should be going home soon, but I had been away for a long time.

My mother said I really must come home. Dorabella was her old self now. She was contented, and she had her own life to lead.

I felt uncertain. I had become more friendly with Jowan Jermyn and was seeing him in a new light; but I could not escape from the feelings of uneasiness which overcame me at Tregarland’s.

I remembered our trip to London; the fun we had had and how gratified I had been to discover Mary Grace’s talent. It seemed like a different world; and if I enjoyed being with Jowan, I had had a very good time with the Dorringtons.

Perhaps it would be pleasant to return to Caddington for a while. I would leave with my parents.

In the town people seemed to take a special interest in me. They would know, of course, about the changed relationship between the Jermyns and the Tregarlands. I wanted to escape from the gossip. It would be pleasant to go to London where one was a private person and no one had the faintest idea what was happening in one’s life.

Seth was very broody at this time. He seemed to be more concerned about the friendship between Jermyns and Tregarlands than anyone—but perhaps he showed it more.

One day I spoke to him about it. When I had gone to the stables he regarded me with melancholy eyes.

“Seth,” I said. “Why do you look like that?”

“It won’t do no good, Miss. It won’t…”

“What, Seth?” I asked.

“Meeting with ’em.”

“Meeting with whom?”

He waved his hand upwards. “They’m angry. That’s what they be. They won’t let ’ee forget. ’Twas you, Miss, after all, as started it.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Seth. It’s of no account.”

“It’ll be of account to ’ee, that it will. You mark my words.”

“Never mind, Seth,” I said. “Now…I want to take Starlight for a farewell ride.”

As the time for our departure grew near, Dorabella became really sad.

She said: “You’ve been here so long now, it seems as though you are part of the place. It’s going to be very lonely when you have gone.”

“But you have Dermot and Tristan.”

“I’ll miss you. It is different with us. We are like one person. We’ve always been together until now. Why can’t you stay?”

“When Dermot married you, he didn’t want your family around all the time.”

“But I want you.” Her face was petulantly puckered and I was touched because she looked as she had so many times during our childhood.

She went on: “Isn’t it exciting enough here? You want to go to London, don’t you? It’s more interesting there.”

“We have promised to go and stay with Edward and Gretchen. There’ll be the baby that is coming and the new house. You know how Mummy feels about that. Edward is like a son to her.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

My mother came in at that moment.

“Have you packed yet?” she asked me. “Why, Dorabella, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Why! We’ll be back in the spring. Perhaps you can come to us. I am sure Nanny Crabtree will allow Tristan to travel soon.”

Dorabella said nothing more about our traveling, but when we left she clung to me rather desperately.

While we were traveling home in the carriage my mother, who was staring thoughtfully out of the window, said suddenly: “I hope Dorabella hasn’t made a mistake.”

“What?” said my father, coming sharply out of a half doze.

“She seemed so upset about our going, particularly at losing Violetta.”

“Well,” said my father, “they have always been together so much. She’s all right.”

“I wouldn’t like to think…” mused my mother.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. She’s all right. She wants Dermot, the baby, and you as well. That’s just like Dorabella.”

I felt a certain relief to be home. Everything seemed normal.

There was quite a different atmosphere from that of Cornwall.

Memories of Mrs. Pardell came back to me—her resentments, her suspicions; then old Mr. Tregarland, whom I could not understand; Gordon Lewyth, who had seemed like a different person when we were on the cliffs together, though he had gradually reverted to the aloof man I had first known; then there was Seth with his vague and inarticulate warnings. He was half crazy, I told myself, but I was vaguely disturbed by him.