Chapter 40 A Fall From Grace
A Fall from Grace
‘OK, and I think we’re getting to the heart of the matter,’ said Rhys, who had been quickly scanning the rest of the document. He carried on.
So matters stood as we approached the end of July.
Miss Madoc seemed cheered by seeing something of a friend who was staying in St Melangell for a few days, although her brother, who had brought her, was off on his own business and did not make an appearance.
So Caradoc’s jealousy was not aroused – nor his suspicions.
But then, on the first day of August, while I was still at breakfast, Caradoc was shown in, in a very agitated and disturbed state.
He told me that early that morning he had been alerted by his chauffeur, Wykes, that Miss Madoc was keeping an assignation with a young man on the cliff path towards St Melangell.
He had set out immediately and, although not in time to come upon the lovers together, had met Miss Madoc making her way back to the house in such a distressed and dishevelled state that it was clear to him the young man had been taking advantage of her.
After her first shock at seeing him, she admitted that she had been meeting the brother of her friend and, moreover, that they were in love!
She apparently became quite hysterical when Caradoc told her it was clear to him the man had no serious intentions, or he wouldn’t have met her clandestinely, and that she had brought what had happened on herself by her behaviour.
At this point, they had heard the servant girl Efa singing as she came along the path and he had consigned Arwen back to the house in her care, telling Efa briefly what had occurred but that she must keep quiet about it.
Arwen was to be locked in her room until the young man had left the district, and he would follow on a little later and inform Mrs Fry of the reasons for this.
Of course, I was very shocked by this revelation, but also surprised that Caradoc had not set out immediately for the inn to confront the young man who, however reprehensible his actions, might really mean to marry the girl who was, after all, his sister’s friend.
When I suggested this, he snapped that it was no such thing, and since he did not trust himself not to strike the young man, it was better that they did not meet. His only concern now was to protect Miss Madoc’s good name from any possible consequences of her rash actions.
To that end, he added, he had decided that he must marry the girl himself forthwith.
I ventured to point out that Miss Madoc might refuse him, if she thought herself in love with the young man, but he simply stated that she would come to see that she had no alternative.
Having unburdened himself, Caradoc seemed much calmer and sat down to share my breakfast. I felt increasingly troubled, however, and had entirely lost my own appetite.
After this, he accompanied me to the pottery, behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
I didn’t go back with him to Triskelion for lunch, but I was present that evening at dinner.
Miss Madoc, of course, was not, and I felt very uneasy about her, having given the matter some thought during the afternoon.
If she truly was in love with the young man, then I was not as sure as my friend that she would accept his offer of marriage – and whatever he said, his first action as Miss Madoc’s guardian should have been to speak to Mr Vane and find out if he had serious intentions.
Caradoc had always been the most forceful and decisive character of the two of us, since we had been at school together, and usually I was happy to follow his lead. But now I really felt that in his jealous rage he might have mistaken the situation, and someone should speak on Miss Madoc’s behalf.
So, I determined that I would follow him out on to the terrace after dinner, when he went to smoke his habitual cigar, and put my opinions forward, even though I was sure they would not be well received.
I found the conversation over the dinner table rather difficult. No sooner had we sat down than Mrs Fry demanded to know if I was aware of Miss Madoc’s fall from grace and that Caradoc was now insisting, from misplaced chivalry, that he must marry her!
I admitted that I did indeed know and when she went on to say Caradoc should instead go down to the inn in St Melangell and ask the young man his intentions, I secretly agreed with her.
Bea, too, said, ‘Yes, Papa, because they might be in love and want to marry!’
Caradoc glared at her and demanded to know what she knew of the matter, to which she replied, innocently, ‘Nothing,’ and then fell silent.
Miss Madoc was to remain locked in her room until the Vanes’ departure the following morning, and Mrs Fry had sent a note to the inn telling them that the girl was indisposed and would be unable to bid them farewell.
After a silence that lasted some time, Bea remarked that if her papa married Arwen, she would find herself unmarried and with a stepmother younger than herself, which was quite ridiculous!
Caradoc replied, with a look at me that made me very uncomfortable, that that was in her own hands, and she relapsed into sulky silence again.
After dinner Caradoc went up to the terrace over the ballroom to smoke his cigar and I thought I would drink a cup of coffee with the ladies before following him.
However, Miss Caradoc had slipped away, so after suffering Mrs Fry’s circular conversation for a few minutes, I made my excuses and left her.
I felt some trepidation as I went upstairs and along the corridor to the door out on to the terrace, rehearsing the arguments I would present to Caradoc on Miss Madoc’s behalf.
Having thought everything over, it seemed increasingly likely to me that he had mistaken Miss Madoc’s early admiration and pleasure in his company for something warmer.
Then later, when she had realized the nature of his feelings for her, she’d shown very clearly that they were unwelcome to her.
Perhaps, even, she had already been in love with this young man when she had arrived at Triskelion.
Another unwelcome idea had also raised its head: that her shock and distress on the cliff path was not due to the young man’s attentions but caused by Caradoc flying into a jealous rage!
It was with a heavy heart and no real expectation of changing Caradoc’s mind that I pushed open the door and stepped out on to the terrace.
It was a perfect late summer’s evening and, although dusk was falling fast, light enough to see clearly that Caradoc was not alone but engaged in some kind of argument with Bea.
I stopped, unnoticed by either of them, gripped by an ungentlemanly curiosity, and I will relate the conversation I overheard as accurately as possible.
Bea was again demanding to know why her papa would never allow her to go to London and accused him of being a miser, saying she knew very well that besides being wealthy himself, her mama had settled money on any future children before her marriage.
‘It’s clearly time I told you of my true financial position and also disabused your mind of the notion you are a great heiress,’ Caradoc said.
‘Your mama had little money at the time of our marriage, although she unexpectedly came into a large inheritance some months later – and that money came to me after her death.’
I, of course, already knew this.
I could see it came as a great shock to Bea, but then she rallied and said, ‘Even if I have little fortune of my own, you must be very wealthy, Papa, and needn’t be so mean as to deny me so much as a visit to my friend!’
I saw him turn and throw the stub of his cigar over the low balustrade, a glowing arc of red, before replying.
‘Again, I am afraid you are doomed to disappointment, Bea, for due to a series of unfortunate investments, I have lost most of my money and have invested the bulk of what remains into my new business venture with Mr Jones. What you call my miserliness is, in fact, borne of necessity.’
She was stunned into silence by this.
He continued: ‘It seemed pointless spending what little remained on giving you a London season when you had suitors here: I didn’t think the Mark Prynne boy-and-girl affair would come to anything, but you would do well to consider poor Hugh, who is not only devoted to you, but has an income of his own besides his share in the pottery business. ’
‘Marry Mr Jones …’ faltered Bea, who had turned very pale and appeared to be struggling to take in the import of what he had said.
While I knew I should slip quietly away at this point, yet I remained there, unseen and transfixed.
‘Also, Bea,’ Caradoc continued, ‘my paintings have been paying the bills the last few years and must continue to do so until my new business venture with Hugh prospers. But for that, I need Arwen, a good enough reason to marry her, even if I did not do so for any other.’
‘I don’t understand, Papa. In what way can Arwen help you?’ Bea said.
‘My vision is rapidly deteriorating, but Arwen is an able copyist who can reproduce my style with such facility that no one will ever guess my work is no longer entirely my own.’
‘You mean that without Arwen you can no longer earn money through your work?’ exclaimed Bea, and then inexplicably broke into a peal of near-hysterical laughter.
‘Oh, that is rich, Papa!’ she cried.
He snapped at her to be quiet and she did fall silent, staring at him from huge dark eyes, her face as pale as ivory.
‘I had no idea of any of this,’ she said.
‘Well, now you do know. Further, when Hugh and I decided to go into business together, we made wills leaving our shares in it to each other, in the event of one of us dying – so that even you, my dear Bea, must see that your best and most sensible course would be to marry Hugh.’
I wish I could say that I did not want a wife who would only accept me as her last resort, but my complete infatuation with her at this time only meant that Caradoc’s words gave me hope.