The Time of the Hunter's Moon

  “We never did such things. Where did you get such an idea? We have always been the most eligible partis in the neighborhood and females have schemed to inveigle us into matrimony.”

  “This is all nonsense. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. You behaved to me in a barbarous manner and the only way in which you can earn my forgiveness is to get out of my sight and never let me see you again.”

  “Alas, it appears I must do without your forgiveness.”

  “I want nothing to do with you. I do not care to be thought of as having any connection with you. I shall be grateful if you will leave me alone.”

  “That is not easy for two reasons. One the school Pageant and the worthy Miss Hetherington. The other and even more insurmountable is that I am besotted about you.”

  “Then find someone else quickly on whom to lavish your devotion. Where is Mrs. Martindale?”

  “In London, I think.”

  “Are you completely insensitive? Do you know what is being said about her…and you?”

  “I’ll guess. I murdered her. Is that it?”

  “That is the implication. Did you?”

  He laughed at me. “Good God! What a question. So you think I am a murderer, do you?”

  “I saw a very ugly side of your nature not very long ago.”

  “Dear Cordelia, I love you. I was trying to make you happy.”

  “You are amused. I do not see what happened as a joke.”

  “You would have been so happy. We would have sent that prim schoolmistress packing. We would have made plans. It would have been wonderful. I should have shown you a new Cordelia.”

  “You have a great opinion of yourself. I do not share it. Nor I believe do others.”

  “I wish you would give yourself a chance to know me.”

  “I don’t think from what I already know that it would be a pleasant experience.”

  “Listen to me. I don’t know where she is. She’s gone. That’s all that concerns me. You are too hard on me. You think the worst of me always. You have right from the start when I ordered your carriage to go back.”

  “That was a typical gesture. It is how you treat people all the time.”

  “Cordelia, let me try to make you understand. I know I give the impression of being arrogant and selfish. I am. But I could be different with you. You could change me. We could be good together…because I’d change you too. I’d open your eyes, Cordelia. I feel alive just talking to you. I love the way you lash me with your tongue. They certainly taught you verbal sparring at Schaffenbrucken. I am what I am because of my environment. It was the way I was brought up. I want children to be heirs to my estate. That’s natural, isn’t it? I don’t want to go on as I have been doing. I want someone to help me become what I want to be. I know that is you. I have told you something of my childhood. It was not a happy one. My brother and I were strictly brought up. You know he continued to live here under this roof when he married—and the girls are now my wards. My wife was a good woman, but I was never interested in her…even before the accident. Then she was immersed in her ailments. But it was not that so much as the fact that we had absolutely nothing in common…nothing to talk about. Can you imagine the dreariness of that. She was stoical and I was sometimes impatient. I had a grudge against fate which had saddled me with her. She could not live with me as a wife. I didn’t care about that. Naturally there were others…many of them. There was no particular one…perhaps that was why there were so many. Have you understood so far?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you are still sitting in judgment?”

  “I am not. I just do not want to be involved with you.”

  “She died…of an overdose of laudanum. She often said she would take her life if the pain became unendurable. She was a religious woman and the pain must have been well-nigh unbearable. She wouldn’t have done it otherwise. We were good friends. She knew that I sought consolation elsewhere…and she died.”

  “And you brought Marcia Martindale to Rooks’ Rest. Why?”

  He was silent for a few seconds. I asked myself why I stayed talking to him. I should have turned my horse and galloped away. Yet the urge to remain was irresistible.

  He said: “Marcia amused me. She could be so outrageous. She was always playing a part…on and off stage. She became pregnant and in an impulsive moment I offered her Rooks’ Rest so that she could get right away and have the child in peace. Then, she discovered the real state of affairs down here…invalid wife, estate with only two girls to inherit…the end of the name of Verringer. It was like a play to her. She therefore decided that the child was mine, that she was showing me she was not infertile, and that if I were free I should marry her. It used to amuse me. Perhaps I wasn’t serious enough. She made her fantasies, played them out, and if she liked them well enough, believed them.”

  “And then your wife died.”

  “Yes. That was when it became difficult.”

  “I can see that.”

  “She really believed then that I would marry her. I went away hoping that she would grow tired of the country and return to London.”

  “But she joined you instead.”

  “She did not join me. She might have, if she had known where I was, but I was determined that she should not know.”

  “But she did go away, and it was said…”

  “It was said! You have built up something against me on what was said!”

  “Do you really think, after what I know of you, that I have to listen to other people’s opinions? Haven’t I had experience of my own?”

  “You must realize that I acted as I did out of my desperate need of you. I know that had I succeeded I should have opened up a new way of life for you…for us. Oh, Cordelia, stop being the sanctimonious schoolmarm. You’re not that. It’s a facade you hide behind.”

  I turned away, but he laid his hand on my bridle.

  “You must listen to me. You must try to understand. I love you. I want you. I am asking you to marry me.”

  “The ultimate honor,” I said with sarcasm.

  “For me, yes,” he said earnestly. “I love you, Cordelia. Whatever you had done I would go on loving you. If you murdered Miss Hetherington and threw her to the fishes in the pond, I’d still love you. That’s what real love is.”

  “Very touching,” I said, and I felt a ridiculous pity for him. I could not understand why. He looked so strong, ruthless, arrogant, everything that I disliked most, and yet when he talked of his love for me, I could almost believe he was speaking the truth. He was like a boy groping in the darkness for someone to love and understand him as he had never been loved and understood before.

  I said on impulse: “Tell me what you know about Marcia Martindale’s whereabouts.”

  “I know nothing. I suspect she is in London with Jack Martindale.”

  “Jack Martindale! Wasn’t he her husband?”

  “A sort of husband.”

  “He died crossing the Atlantic.”

  He laughed. “Oh, you’ve heard that version. There is one in which he died in a duel, fighting for the honor of Marcia, of course. And another in a theatrical fire after he had saved the lives of many including Marcia. I believe he went back for her pet dog. That was the affecting one.”

  “You mean it is all lies? You mean that this husband of hers is still alive?”

  “I can’t say that. I only said that she may have gone back to him.”

  “Did she say she was going back? Wasn’t it rather sudden?”

  “Not by her standards. Listen to me, Cordelia. I was unwise to let her come here. But she was in difficulties…out of work because she was to have a baby. She had nowhere to go. Rooks’ Rest was empty so I brought her here. I was in a low state. Sylvia, my wife, was suffering great pain. I scarcely saw her. I didn’t think Fiona would be much use on the estate, and here was I getting older…and to tell the truth disgruntled with what life had done to me. I lived what you call wildly in London, and I thought
it would be amusing…so on impulse I brought her here. It was folly because she immediately began including me in her fantasies. And then when Sylvia took that overdose, I was pulled up sharp…and on the very day of her funeral I saw you. I knew at once that here was someone different from all the others…someone who excited me, not only physically but in every way, and I began to plan. It seemed to me that here was a new start. Everything else was behind me. And then there was that damned woman at Rooks’ Rest.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Go on.”

  “Do you understand? Do you accept my feelings for you?”

  “No. Only that there have been many women in your life and that you think it would be rather amusing to add me to their number.”

  “Are you being truthful with yourself, Cordelia? Your feelings are under control, I know, good schoolmistress that you are.”

  “I wish you would stop sneering at schoolmistresses.”

  “Sneer at them? They have my deepest admiration. A most honorable profession. But I have a different destiny marked out for you.”

  “I am one who will make my own destiny. But I should like to know what happened to Marcia Martindale.”

  “You can be sure she went to London. She was getting very smug. She told me to go to hell on more than one occasion so I guessed she had plans. She realized that her little fantasy was at an end.”

  “Yet you felt responsible for her child…although you seem sure that it is not yours.”

  “I suppose there is a possibility that it might be.”

  “I have been to Bristonleigh and seen Mrs. Gittings.”

  He stared at me in astonishment.

  “I thought I would discover something about the mystery of which they were gossiping in the town.”

  “The idea of your going to such lengths!” He smiled. “Well, what did you discover?”

  “Only that she had gone there on your instructions a few days before Marcia Martindale left Rooks’ Rest, and that you sent her there and have promised to look after Miranda.”

  “And what inference do you draw from that?”

  “That you knew Marcia was going…to disappear, and you decided to get the child safely out of the way.”

  “Oh, I see. You have it all worked out. My dear, clever, little detective. What do I do now? Confess? I strangled her…no, I hit her on the head with a blunt instrument. I buried her body in the garden…No, I dragged her to the fish ponds and threw her in.”

  I faced him squarely. “Her earring was found by the fish ponds.”

  He stared at me.

  “Yes,” I went on, “her earring. I knew it was hers. It was the one she dropped in your stables so I had seen it before. You might remember the occasion.”

  He nodded. “Why…should her earring have been there?”

  “Because she was.”

  “Where is the earring?”

  “In the ponds. The girl who found it was Teresa Hurst. She showed it to me and she threw it into the water.”

  “Why did she do that?”

  “Because she was afraid…for me. She thought that you and I…Well, she had not a very good opinion of you, you see, and she warned me about you…”

  He laughed. “What a tangled web. I like Teresa. I should not like my enemies, of course, but she is a good girl and a smart one. I like her for her devotion to you.”

  “Perhaps you understand why I do not want to have anything more to do with you than I have to through school business. When and if we meet, please do not attempt to single me out for attention. You owe me that.”

  He continued to look aghast. He said: “I must tell you that I sent Miranda away because after the scene between us I guessed Marcia was planning something. I thought she would go to London. She couldn’t take Mrs. Gittings with her to London. I knew that something had to be done about the child.”

  I turned away. He had been shocked by my revelation about the earring, I could see.

  When I galloped away he did not follow me.

  ***

  At school there was talk of nothing but the Pageant. Time was getting short, said Daisy. She had definitely decided on Midsummer’s Eve. The evenings would be light. By great good fortune the moon would be full and she wanted to see what preparations we had made.

  I had decided that we should have a commentary which should be read by three or four of the senior girls and where it was possible we should introduce little sketches. I would write these from the records beginning with the arrival of the emissary from Clairvaux with commands from St. Bernard to choose a place far removed from towns and habitation and build an abbey.

  We should have girls dressed as monks chanting as they walked through the ruins; and the commentary would explain how they worked at various tasks. Then we would come to the Dissolution and disaster.

  The second part would be the Elizabethan age when the country was prospering and the Hall was built, using some of the stones from the Abbey ruins, and the Lay Brothers’ Dorter restored. There would be girls in Tudor costumes singing madrigals and dancing.

  The third act would be the present day with the girls showing what they did at school, singing, dancing, physical exercises, and ending with the singing of the school song.

  Daisy thought it was an excellent plan and I must say that I quickly became caught up in it. It was the best possible way of taking my mind from all the doubts and fears which I had tried so hard to dispel and could not.

  Daisy came into the calefactory where we were assembled looking very pleased.

  “There is to be a house party at the Hall,” she said. “There always used to be at this time of the year—although it hasn’t happened for some time. There was little entertaining when Lady Verringer was so ill. Well, a year has passed since that sad event and now that Mrs. Martindale has left, perhaps we can come back to normal. I have decided to invite the guests for the Pageant. Parents like to hear of that sort of thing. There is to be a musical evening there. Some famous pianist or violinist will come, just like the old days. Sir Jason has extended invitations for the whole teaching staff, which I have accepted on your behalf. That will be the evening after the Pageant. Naturally the whole school could not go, but Fiona and Eugenie will be there and they may take a few guests—their special friends…two or three each, Sir Jason and I decided. I think it will be a most interesting evening.”

  I was ashamed of feeling exhilarated by the prospect, but I was.

  Preparations went on. The costumes were examined and constantly commented on. There was a great deal of giggling as the girls dashed about in their white Cistercian robes. They were most effective on the tallest girls.

  Fiona and Charlotte were to be in the chorus of the monks. They both had good singing voices. Mr. Crowe wanted them to sing in the madrigals too, but Daisy said that all the girls must be given a chance to do something. “We do not want certain girls taking all the kudos. If the performance was repeated at the end of term, parents want to see their children…so a part for everyone, please.”

  We rehearsed the Abbey scenes out of doors and it was very moving to perform among the ruins. Perhaps I was in love with words but when I heard Gwendoline Grey read her lines—she had a beautiful voice—I was deeply touched and I was sure the Pageant was going to be a great success.

  Mr. Crowe was very excited about the singing, and I constantly heard the sound of voices trilling in the music room. Rehearsals were continuous and everyone was waiting for the day.

  The weather was perfect, and although we had some three weeks before the performance, girls were already watching the skies anxiously and forecasting the weather. As if it could not change in half an hour! However it was all part of the general excitement.

  It was in the first week in June that we had a shock. During the break for riding Miss Barston had been the only one available to go with the girls and they had set off about two o’clock in the afternoon and would be expected back at four for tea.

  At four o’clock they had not returne
d. The girls were so absorbed in their own affairs—mainly concerning the Pageant—and the rest of us were too, that we did not notice they were missing until one of the juniors asked where Miss Barston was as she had to report to her immediately after tea.

  “And where are Fiona and Charlotte?” asked Mr. Crowe. “I want to take the girls through the monks’ chorus.”

  We then discovered that the riding party was not yet back.

  It was then half-past four.

  Then Miss Barston came bursting into the hall. She was very agitated and several of the girls were with her.

  I said: “What has happened?”

  She said, “We’ve lost the Verringer girls and Charlotte Mackay.”

  “Lost them?”

  “We suddenly discovered they weren’t with us.”

  “Do you mean…they just disappeared?”

  “I don’t know whether anyone knows where they are. They won’t say.”

  Discipline had never been one of Miss Barston’s strong points, so I said: “Someone must have seen them. Did any of you girls?”

  “No, Miss Grant,” was the chorus.

  I did not think they were all speaking the truth.

  “If these girls have deliberately gone off, they should be punished,” I said. “They know very well they are not allowed to leave the party. Are you sure nobody saw them go?”

  There was still no answer. It was, of course, a point of honor not to tell tales; and I was sure this was one of the occasions when that code was being put into practice.

  I said: “The three of them are together. They’ll come to no harm.”

  “I think perhaps I should report this to Miss Hetherington,” said Miss Barston.

  Daisy, however, could not be found and the girls were not reported. It must have been five o’clock when they came riding in.

  I went out to the stables with Miss Barston.

  “Girls…girls…” she said hysterically. “Where have you been?”

  It was Charlotte who spoke. “We went into the woods. We wanted to see if there were any bluebells still.”

  “You had no right to leave the party,” I said.