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Authors: Victoria Holt
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does walk, I reckon she comes up here.”
The sides of the buttress were battlemented. We knelt on a ledge and leaned over to look down from the very top of the house to the sea below. Gwennan pointed out the corbels on which, she said, they used to stand the pots of boiling oil they threw down on anyone who came attacking them. “Imagine them,” she said, “climbing up the cliffs and getting out their battering rams. That was years and years ago … long before she was here.”
I filled my lungs with the fresh air and clung to the hard stone of the battlement I thought then: How I love this house where so many exciting things have happened, and so many people have lived and died. I wanted wholeheartedly to belong to it, to be one of them.
Gwennan had started to tell me the story. “She was employed here as a governess to the children, and this Menfrey —my ancestor—fell in love with her. When Lady Menfrey found out, she dismissed her and told her to get out of the house. She thought she had gone, but she hadn’t. You see, he couldn’t bear her to go away, so he brought her to this place because no one knew it was here then. He used to visit her in that room down there. Can’t you picture him, Harriet, creeping into the disused wing and sliding the panel. I bet it was a panel then, and he’d have a candle or perhaps a lantern … and they’d be together. He had to go away for a while. To London, I expect … to Parliament … and the clock in the tower stopped. You know, the
Victoria Holt
49
tower clock, which is supposed to stop when a Menfrey is going to die.” “I didn’t…”
“You don’t know anything. Well, the clock hi the tower is supposed to stop when one of us is going to die an unnatural death. That’s why Dawney has to be careful to keep it going. We don’t believe these old stories—or we say we don’t … but other people do. That’s what Papa says, and we have to remember that. Goodness knows why.” “Well, what happened? Why did the clock stop?** “Because she died. She died up here … in that room down there … and so did the baby.” “Whose baby?”
“Hers, of course. You see, it came before it should … and no one knew. They both died. That’s why the clock stopped.”
“She wasn’t a Menfrey.**
“No, but the baby was. It stopped for the baby. Then Sir Bevil came back.” “Who?”
**I expect he was Sir Bevil … or Endelion or something … he came back and found her dead. They sealed off the room and never thought about it for years and years … until someone found it again and put the door in instead of the panel. But nobody would come here. The servants wouldn’t. They say it’s haunted. Do you think it is?** “It feels cold and melancholy,** I said. She hung over the battlements with her feet off the ground so that I was terrified that she was going to fall. She did it purposely, I knew, to show how reckless she was. “Let’s go down,” I said.
“Yes, rather. There’s that trunk. I looked inside. That’s why I brought you. But I wanted to show you this first” We made our way back to the circular room, and Gwennan lifted the lid of the trunk. The green growth came off on her hands, which made her grimace, but the contents of the trunk caused her to smile.
She was tugging at what looked like a piece of topaz-colored velvet, but I wasn’t interested; I was thinking of the woman who had been loved by a Menfrey. “I thought you could have this brown thing,” she said. She dropped it onto the floor and brought a roll of blue velvet, which she began draping about her. I picked up the topaz-colored velvet Jt was a dress, with a tight, square-cut bodice and wide
50
Menfreya in the Morning
Victoria Holt
51
sleeves that were slashed to show golden satin beneath. The skirt must have contained yards and yards of velvet I held it up against me, and when I looked at my reflection in that mottled mirror I could not believe I was looking at
The sides of the buttress were battlemented. We knelt on a ledge and leaned over to look down from the very top of the house to the sea below. Gwennan pointed out the corbels on which, she said, they used to stand the pots of boiling oil they threw down on anyone who came attacking them. “Imagine them,” she said, “climbing up the cliffs and getting out their battering rams. That was years and years ago … long before she was here.”
I filled my lungs with the fresh air and clung to the hard stone of the battlement I thought then: How I love this house where so many exciting things have happened, and so many people have lived and died. I wanted wholeheartedly to belong to it, to be one of them.
Gwennan had started to tell me the story. “She was employed here as a governess to the children, and this Menfrey —my ancestor—fell in love with her. When Lady Menfrey found out, she dismissed her and told her to get out of the house. She thought she had gone, but she hadn’t. You see, he couldn’t bear her to go away, so he brought her to this place because no one knew it was here then. He used to visit her in that room down there. Can’t you picture him, Harriet, creeping into the disused wing and sliding the panel. I bet it was a panel then, and he’d have a candle or perhaps a lantern … and they’d be together. He had to go away for a while. To London, I expect … to Parliament … and the clock in the tower stopped. You know, the
Victoria Holt
49
tower clock, which is supposed to stop when a Menfrey is going to die.” “I didn’t…”
“You don’t know anything. Well, the clock hi the tower is supposed to stop when one of us is going to die an unnatural death. That’s why Dawney has to be careful to keep it going. We don’t believe these old stories—or we say we don’t … but other people do. That’s what Papa says, and we have to remember that. Goodness knows why.” “Well, what happened? Why did the clock stop?** “Because she died. She died up here … in that room down there … and so did the baby.” “Whose baby?”
“Hers, of course. You see, it came before it should … and no one knew. They both died. That’s why the clock stopped.”
“She wasn’t a Menfrey.**
“No, but the baby was. It stopped for the baby. Then Sir Bevil came back.” “Who?”
**I expect he was Sir Bevil … or Endelion or something … he came back and found her dead. They sealed off the room and never thought about it for years and years … until someone found it again and put the door in instead of the panel. But nobody would come here. The servants wouldn’t. They say it’s haunted. Do you think it is?** “It feels cold and melancholy,** I said. She hung over the battlements with her feet off the ground so that I was terrified that she was going to fall. She did it purposely, I knew, to show how reckless she was. “Let’s go down,” I said.
“Yes, rather. There’s that trunk. I looked inside. That’s why I brought you. But I wanted to show you this first” We made our way back to the circular room, and Gwennan lifted the lid of the trunk. The green growth came off on her hands, which made her grimace, but the contents of the trunk caused her to smile.
She was tugging at what looked like a piece of topaz-colored velvet, but I wasn’t interested; I was thinking of the woman who had been loved by a Menfrey. “I thought you could have this brown thing,” she said. She dropped it onto the floor and brought a roll of blue velvet, which she began draping about her. I picked up the topaz-colored velvet Jt was a dress, with a tight, square-cut bodice and wide
50
Menfreya in the Morning
Victoria Holt
51
sleeves that were slashed to show golden satin beneath. The skirt must have contained yards and yards of velvet I held it up against me, and when I looked at my reflection in that mottled mirror I could not believe I was looking at
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