Part 32 (2/2)
Strangest of all was my stepmother-that foreign woman who spoke so little, who could enchant all men at will-be they young or old; there were strange rumours about her. I knew my own mother had saved her from the sea on Hallowe'en, which, said my practical grandmother, was why the rumour had started.
Perhaps that was so, but it was brought home afresh to me that my mother had been dead but three months when he had married her.
”Tamsyn, are you awake?”
It was Senara. We had continued to share a room. We could have had one each for there were plenty in the castle, but Senara was against it. She liked the room, she said; and she might want to talk in the night. It was like many other rooms in the castle, big and lofty, but it did have one unique feature. One of my ancestors had put in what was called a ruelle. He had lived in France and liked the idea. It was a sort of alcove which was curtained off by a heavy red curtain. Senara had always been fond of hiding behind it and springing out on me in the hope of frightening me.
Now I said: ”Yes, I'm awake.”
”You're thinking about him.” She said it accusingly.
”Whom do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well.
”Fenn Landor.”
”Well, he is our guest.”
”You think he is a special guest, don't you?”
”The guest of the moment should always be a special guest.”
”Don't elude me, Tamsyn. You know what I mean. You like him too much.”
”I just like him.”
”Too much,” she insisted.
I was silent.
She got off her pallet and knelt by mine.
”Tamsyn,” she said very seriously, ”no one is going to take you away from me. No one.”
”No one shall,” I said. ”You and I will always be as sisters.”
”I would hate anyone you liked more than you liked me.”
I thought: She is very young. She'll grow up.
”Go back to bed, Senara. You'll catch cold.”
”Remember it,” she said.
The next day when I was showing Fenn round the castle we came to the burial ground near the old Norman chapel. I showed him my mother's grave in that spot with the other two so that they were a little apart.
”Why,” he said, ”that is my aunt's grave.” He went to it and knelt beside it. ”My aunt and your mother. Who is the other?”
I said: ”It was a sailor. He was drowned and washed up on our coast. We buried him here.”
”I wonder who he is,” said Fenn.
”I wish I knew. I dare say he has those to mourn for him.”
Fenn was sad and I knew that he was thinking of his father.
”There must be many sailors,” he said, ”who are lying in graves unknown to their families.”
”Few are washed up on the sh.o.r.e.”
”No,” he said, ”the ocean bed is the graveyard of many, I'll swear.”
”Do you still think so much of your father?”
”It is six years since we lost him but he is as vivid in my mind as he ever was. You would understand if you had known him. He was a kind, good man in a world that is far from good and kind. That was what made him so outstanding. My mother says he was born before his time. He belonged to a different age, when men had become wiser and kinder because of it.”
”That's a wonderful thing for a wife to say about her husband.”
”He was a wonderful husband.” He clenched his fists suddenly. ”I know I shall find out one day what happened to him.”
”Isn't it obvious? His s.h.i.+p must have been lost at sea.”
”I suppose you are right, but I have a feeling that some day I shall hear.”
”How wonderful if he came back to her. My grandfather was away for years-captured and made a slave and my grandmother never gave up hope. And he did come back. Poor Grandmother, she feels his loss sadly.”
He was very thoughtful and I longed to share his thoughts.
Then he said suddenly, ”Tamsyn, would you do something if I asked you?”
”I am sure I shall. What is it?”
”You have planted rosemary on your mother's grave.”
”She loved it and so did I and it's for remembrance.”
”Will you plant a bush on his grave?”
”Of course.”
”An unknown sailor. Who knows where his family is? Plant the rosemary and it will be as though you plant it for my father. Will you do that for me, Tamsyn?”
”You may trust me to.”
He stood up and took my hands in his. Then he kissed me lightly on the forehead.
I was blissfully happy because that kiss while he stood close to my mother's and the unknown sailor's grave was a symbol. It was like plighting my troth. I knew that I loved Fenn. I was not sure whether he loved me but I thought he did.
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