Frenchman's Creek by Daphne Du Maurier
"No," she said. "No, I won't delay."
And he went downstairs to make the necessary arrangements for departure, while she summoned Prue and told her of the sudden change of plans. At once all was bustle and confusion, the strapping up of bedding and boxes, the packing of food and clothing for the journey, while the children ran about like puppies, delighted in all movement, any sort of change for the variety it gave, and "They don't mind leaving Navron," thought Dona; "in a month's time they will be playing in Hampshire fields, and Cornwall will be forgotten. Children forget places so easily, and faces even faster."
They had cold meat at one o'clock, the children eating with herself and Harry for a treat. Henrietta danced about the table like a fairy, white with excitement because he was to ride beside their carriage. James sat on Dona's lap, endeavouring to put his feet up on the table, and when Dona permitted him, he looked about him with an air of triumph, and she kissed his fat cheek and held him to her. Harry caught something of his children's excitement, and he began to tell them about Hampshire, and how they would go there in all probability, for the rest of the summer. "You shall have a pony, Henrietta," he said, "and James too, later on," and he began to throw pieces of meat across the floor to the dogs, and the children clapped their hands and shouted.
The carriage came to the door, and they were bundled inside, packages, rugs, pillows, and the baskets for the two dogs, while Harry's horse champed at his bit, and pawed the ground.
"You must make my peace with George Godolphin," said Harry, bending down to Dona, flicking his boots with his whip. "He won't understand it, you know, my tearing off in this way."
"Leave everything to me," she answered, "I shall know what to say."
"I still don't know why you won't come with us," he said, staring at her, "but we'll be waiting for you, tomorrow evening, at Okehampton. When we pass through Helston to-day I will order your chaise for the morning."
"Thank you, Harry."
He went on flicking the toe of his boot. "Stand still, will you, you brute?" he said to his horse; and then to Dona, "I believe you've still got that damned fever on you, and you won't admit it."
"No," she said, "I have no fever."
"Your eyes are strange," he said; "they looked different to me the first moment I saw you, lying in bed there, up in your room. The expression has changed. God damn it, I don't know what it is."
"I told you this morning," she said, "I'm getting older, and shall be thirty in three weeks' time. It's my age you can see in my eyes."
"Damn it, it's not," he said. "Ah, well, I suppose I'm a fool and a blockhead, and will have to spend the rest of my days wondering what the hell has happened to you."
"I rather think you will, Harry," she said.
Then he waved his whip, and wheeled his horse about, and cantered away down the drive, while the carriage followed soberly, the two children smiling from the window and blowing kisses, until they turned the corner of the avenue and could see her no more.
Dona went through the empty dining-hall and into the garden. It seemed to her that the house already had a strange, deserted appearance, as though it knew in its old bones that soon the covers would be placed upon the chairs, and the shutters drawn, and the doors bolted, and nothing would be there any longer but its own secret darkness: no sunshine, no voices, no laughter, only the quiet memories of the things that had been.
Here, beneath this tree, she had lain on her back in the sun and watched the butterflies, and Godolphin had called upon her for the first time, surprising her with her ringlets in disorder and the flowers behind her ears. And in the woods there had been bluebells, where there were bluebells no more, and the bracken had been young which was now waist-high and darkly green. So much loveliness, swiftly come and swiftly gone, and she knew in her heart that this was the last time of looking upon it all, and that she would never come to Navron again. Part of her would linger there for ever: a footstep running tip-toe to the creek, the touch of her hand on a tree, the imprint of her body in the long grass. And perhaps one day, in after years, someone would wander there and listen to the silence, as she had done, and catch the whisper of the dreams that she had dreamt there, in midsummer, under the hot sun and the white sky.
Then she turned her back on the garden, and calling to the stable-boy in the courtyard she bade him catch the cob who was in the meadow, and put a saddle on him, for she was going riding.
Chapter XXII
WHEN DONA CAME to Gweek she made straight for a little cottage almost buried in the woods, a hundred yards or so from the road, and which she knew instinctively to be the place she sought. Passing there once before she had seen a woman at the-doorway, young and pretty, and William, driving the carriage, had saluted her with his whip.
"There have been ugly rumours," Godolphin had said, "of young women in distress, and Dona smiled to herself, thinking of the girl's blush as she remembered it, and William's expression, his gallant bow, little guessing that his mistress had observed him.
The cottage appeared deserted, and Dona, dismounting, and knocking on the door, wondered for one moment if she had been mistaken after all. Then she heard a movement from the scrap of garden at the back, and she caught the glimpse of a petticoat disappearing into a door, and that door suddenly shutting, and the bolt being drawn. She knocked gently, and getting no answer called, "Don't be afraid. It is Lady St. Columb from Navron."
In a minute or two the bolt was pulled back, and the door was opened, and on the threshold stood William himself, with the flushed face of the young woman peering behind his shoulder.
"My lady," he said, staring at her, with his button mouth twisted. She feared for one moment he was going to break down and cry. Then he stiffened, and held the door open wide. "Run upstairs, Grace," he said to the girl, "her ladyship wishes to speak to me alone."
The girl obeyed him, and Dona preceded William into the little kitchen, and sat down by the low hearth, and looked at him.
He still wore his right arm in a sling, and his head was bandaged, but he was the same William, standing before her as though he awaited her instructions for the ordering of supper.
"Prue gave me your message, William," she said, and because he stood there so stiffly, without expression, she smiled at him with understanding. He said humbly, his eyes downcast, "My lady, what can I say to you? I would have died for you that night, and instead I proved false, and lay like a sick child on the floor of the nursery."
"You could not help it," she said. "You were weak and faint from loss of blood, and your prisoner proved too swift and cunning for you. But I have not come to talk about that, William."
For a moment his eyes entreated her, but she shook her head. "No questions," she said, "for I know what you would ask me. I am well, and strong, and quite unhurt, and what happened that night does not concern you. It is all over and put aside. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lady, since you insist."
"Sir Harry and Prue and the children left Navron just after noon to-day. The only thing that matters now is that we help your master. You know what happened?"
"I know, my lady, that the ship was lucky enough to escape with the crew safe aboard, but that my master lies a prisoner in the care of Lord Godolphin."
"And time is short, William, for his lordship and the others may take the law into their own hands, and do what they would do to him-before the escort comes from Bristol. We may have a few hours only, and therefore we must work tonight."
She made him sit down on the stool beside the hearth, and she showed the pistol she had secreted in her habit, and the knife as well. "The pistol is loaded," she said, "and when I leave you now, I shall proceed to his lordship's, and somehow gain admittance to the keep. It should not prove difficult, for his lordship is a fool."
"And then, my lady?" he asked.
"And then I shall assume that your master already has a plan prepared, and we will act upon it. He will realise the desperate importance of time, and may wish us to
"That should not prove impossible, my lady. There are ways and means of procuring horses."
"I can believe it, William."
"The young woman who is giving me hospitality..."
"A very charming young woman, William."
"Your ladyship is gracious. The young woman who is giving me hospitality may prove helpful over the matter of horses. You can safely leave the matter in my hands."
"And the young woman, also, as I did Prue, when I went away with your master."
"My lady, I declare to you most solemnly that I never touched a hair of Prue's head."
"Probably not, William, we will not discuss it. Very well, then. The first move in the game is understood. I shall return here, after my visit to Lord Godolphin, and tell you what has been arranged."
"Very good, my lady."
He opened the door for her, and she stood a moment, smiling at him, before she passed into the little overgrown garden.
"We are not going to fail, William," she said. "In three days' time, or less than that perhaps, you will see the cliffs of Brittany. It will please you, will it not, to smell France again?"
And he would have asked her a question, but she walked swiftly down the path, and to her horse, tethered to the bough of a tree. Now that she was employed, and action was demanded of her, she felt resolute and strong, and the strange wistfulness that had come upon her as she stood alone in the garden at Navron had gone with the moment that brought it. All that belonged to the past. She rode swiftly, the sturdy cob striding out well along the muddy lane, and soon she came to the park gates of Godolphin's estate, and in the distance she saw the grey outline of his house, and the squat tower and strong walls of the keep that formed part of the mansion. There was one narrow slit in the tower, midway between the battlement and the ground, and as she passed beneath it her heart beat strongly, with sudden excitement: that must be his prison, and he might have heard the sound of her horse and, climbing to the slit, be looking down upon her.
A servant ran forward to take her horse, glancing at her in surprise, and wondering, she thought, what the Lady St. Columb of Navron could be doing in the heat of the afternoon upon a rough country cob, alone, and unattended by husband or by groom.
She passed into the long hall, enquiring whether his lordship would see her, and while she waited she looked out of the long windows on to the park, and she saw, roped apart from its fellows in the centre of the grass, a tall tree, far taller than its fellows, and there was a man upon one of the wide branches, working with a saw, calling down to a little group of men beneath.
She turned away, feeling cold suddenly, a little sick, and then she heard a footstep coming across the hall, and Lord Godolphin advanced towards her, his usual composure somewhat ruffled. "My very humble apologies, madam," he said, kissing her hand, "I fear I kept you waiting, the truth is that your visit is somewhat inopportune-we are all rather concerned-the fact of the matter is that my wife is in labour, and we await the physician."
"My dear Lord Godolphin, you must forgive me," said Dona, "and had I known I would never have disturbed you. But I bring messages from Harry, you see, and his apologies. Something in London necessitated his immediate return, he left at noon today with the children, and..."
"Harry left for town?" he said, in astonishment, "but it was all arranged that he should come tomorrow. Half the countryside will be gathered here for the occasion. The men are preparing the tree, as you can see. Harry was most insistent that he must see the Frenchman hang."
"He asked most humbly for your forgiveness," she said, "but the matter was really pressing. His Majesty himself, I believe, is concerned in it."
"Oh, well, naturally madam, under such circumstances, I understand. But it is a pity, a very great pity. The occasion is so unusual, and such a triumph. And as things are turning out, it looks as though we may celebrate something else at the same time." He coughed, bridling with selfesteem and importance, and then, as the sound of carriage wheels came to their ears, he looked away from her, towards the door. "This will be the physician," he said quickly, "you will, I am sure, excuse me a moment."
"But of course, Lord Godolphin," she smiled, and turning away, wandered into the small salon and stood thinking rapidly, while from the hall she heard voices, and murmurs, and heavy footsteps, and "He is so agitated," she thought, "that if we seized his wig again, he could not notice it."
The footsteps and the voices disappeared up the broad staircase, and Dona, looking from the window, saw that there were no guards outside the keep, or in the avenue; they must be within the keep itself. After five minutes Godolphin returned, looking if possible more flushed and concerned than before.
"The physician is with her ladyship now," he said, "but he seems to think nothing is likely to occur until late this evening. It seems rather remarkable, I had no idea, indeed I considered that any minute..."
"Wait," she said, "until you have been a father a dozen times, and then perhaps you will understand that babies are leisurely creatures, and like to linger over this business of entering the world. Dear Lord Godolphin, I wish I could distract you. I'm sure your wife is in no danger at all. Is that where the Frenchman is imprisoned?"
"Yes, madam, and spends his time, so his jailers tell me, in drawing birds upon a sheet of paper. The fellow is mad, of course."
"Of course."
"Congratulations are pouring in upon me from all over the county. I flatter myself that I have earned them. It was I, you know, who disarmed the scoundrel."
"How courageous of you."
"It is true he gave his sword into my hands, but nevertheless it was to me he gave it."
"I shall make a great story of it at Court, Lord Godolphin, when I am next at St. James's. His Majesty will be very impressed with your handling of the whole affair. You were the genius of it all."
"Ah, you flatter me, madam."
"No, indeed. Harry would agree with me I know. I wish I had some souvenir of the Frenchman to show His Majesty. Do you think, as he is a draughtsman, he would give me one of his drawings?"
"The easiest thing in the world. They are scattered all over his cell."
"I have forgotten so much, heaven be praised, of that fearful night," sighed Dona, "that I cannot now recollect his appearance, except that he was extremely large and black and fierce, and appallingly ugly."
"You are somewhat at fault, madam, I should not describe him so. He is not so large a man as myself, for instance, and like all Frenchmen, has a sly rather than an ugly face."
"What a pity it is that I cannot see him, and so give a strictly accurate description of him to His Majesty."
"You will not come then tomorrow?"
"Alas, no. I go to rejoin Harry and the children."
"I suppose," said Lord Godolphin, "that I could permit you a glimpse of the rascal in his cell. But I understood from Harry that after the tragedy the other night you could scarcely abide to speak of the fellow-that he had so terrified you in short, that..."
"To-day, Lord Godolphin, is so different from the other night. I have you to protect me, and the Frenchman is unarmed. I would like to paint a picture to His Majesty of the notorious pirate, caught and put to death by the most faithful of his Cornish subjects."
"Then you shall, madam, you shall. When I think what you might have endured at his hands, I would willingly hang him three times over. I believe it was the excitement and alarm of the whole affair that precipitated her ladyship's confinement."
"Most probably," said Dona gravely, and seeing that he still would talk of the matter, and might even yet plunge into domestic details which she understood more thoroughly than he did himself, she added, "Let us go now, then, while the physician is with your wife." Before he could protest, she walked out of the salon to the hall, and so to the steps before the house, and he was forced to accompany her, glancing up at the windows of the house as he did so.
"My poor Lucy," he said
"You should have thought of that nine months ago, my lord," she answered, and he stared at her, greatly embarrassed and shocked, and murmured something about having hoped for years for a son and heir.
"Which I am sure she will give you," smiled Dona, "even if you have ten daughters first." And here they were at the keep, standing in the small stone entrance, where two men were standing, armed with muskets, and another was seated on a bench before a table. "I have promised Lady St. Columb a glance at our prisoner," said Godolphin, and the man at the table looked up and grinned.
"He won't be fit for a lady to see this time tomorrow my lord," he said, and Godolphin laughed loudly. "No, that is why her ladyship has come to-day." The guard led the way up the narrow stone stairway, taking a key from his chain, and "There is no other door," thought Dona, "no other stair. And the men below there, always on guard." The key turned in the lock, and once again her heart began to beat, foolishly, ridiculously, as it always did whenever she was about to look on him. The jailer threw open the door, and she stepped inside, with Godolphin behind her, and then the jailer withdrew, locking the door upon them. He was sitting at a table, as he had done the first time she had seen him, and on his face was the same absorbed expression that he had worn then, intent upon his occupation, thinking of nothing else, so that Godolphin, put out of countenance by his prisoner's indifference, thumped his hand on the table and said sharply, "Stand up, can't you, when I choose to visit you?"
The indifference was no play, as Dona knew, for so intent was the Frenchman upon his drawing, that he had not known the footstep of Godolphin from the jailer. He pushed the drawing aside-it was a curlew, Dona saw, flying across an estuary towards the open sea-and then for the first time he saw her, and making no sign of recognition, he stood up, and bowed, and said nothing.
"This is Lady St. Columb," said Godolphin stiffly, "who, disappointed that she cannot see you hanged tomorrow, wishes to take one of your drawings back to town with her, so that His Majesty may have a souvenir of one of the biggest blackguards that ever troubled his faithful subjects."