Part 47 (1/2)

The following day a strange thing happened. It was midday and we were at dinner in the great hall, for Aunt Melanie said that as there were so many of us it was better to take our meals there rather than in the dining-parlour which was used for a smaller company.

There had always been a big table at Castle Paling. Grandfather Casvellyn had set the custom for hearty eating and Connell had followed it. In our house my father's family had been more abstemious, and although there had been plenty of food in our larders should visitors call unexpectedly, we did not consume the large meals which they did at Castle Paling. Aunt Melanie took great pride in her stillroom and she had Melder to help her and was constantly urging us to try some delicacy or other which she or Melder had concocted from old recipes with little additions of their own.

My mother and Aunt Melanie were discussing the rival properties of the herbs they both grew with such a.s.siduous care, and Aunt Melanie was saying how she had discovered that a solution acquired from the juice of b.u.t.tercups gave Rozen such a fit of sneezing that it had cleared her head of a very unpleasant cold from which she was suffering, when we heard sound of arrival from without.

'Visitors-' said Uncle Connell, looking along the table from his end to where Aunt Melanie was seated.

'I wonder who,' she answered.

One of the servants came running in. 'Travellers from afar, my lady,' said the man.

Aunt Melanie rose and hurried out of the hall, Uncle Connell following her.

We at the table heard cries of amazement, and in a short time my uncle and aunt reappeared and with them were two women-and in that first moment I was aware of their unusual appearance. I often think, looking back, that life should prepare us in some way, that when events occur which are the forerunner of great changes which will affect our lives we should be given a little nudge, some warning, some premonition.

But it rarely happens so, and as I sat at that table and looked at the newcomers-one a woman of my mother's age and with her another of my own, or a little older-I was quite unaware that their coming was going to prove one of the most momentous events of our lives.

Aunt Melanie was crying out: 'Tamsyn. You know who this is. Senara!'

My mother stood up; she turned first pale and then rosy red. She stared for a few minutes before she and the elder of the two women rushed towards each other and embraced.

They were laughing and I could see that my mother was near to tears. She gripped the stranger's shoulders and they looked searchingly at each other.

'Senara!' cried my mother. 'What happened?'

'Too much to tell yet,' answered the woman. 'Oh, it is good to see you ... good to be here ...' She threw back her hood and shook out magnificent black hair. 'It's not changed ... not one little bit. And you ... you're still the old Tamsyn.'

'And this ...'

'This is my daughter. Carlotta, come and meet Tamsyn ... the dearest sister of my childhood.'

Then the girl called Carlotta came to my mother, who was about to embrace her when the girl held back and swept a low curtsey. Even then I was struck by her infinite grace. She was very foreign-looking-with hair as dark as her mother's and long oval eyes so heavily fringed with black lashes that even in that moment I couldn't help noticing them. Her face was very pale except for vividly red lips and the blackness of her eyes.

'Your daughter ... My dear Senara. Oh, this is wonderful. You must have so much to tell.' She looked round at us. 'My girls are here too ...'

'So you married Fennimore.'

'Yes, I married Fennimore.'

'And lived happy ever after.'

'I am very happy. Angelet, Bersaba ...'

We rose from the table and went to our mother.

'Twins!' said Senara. There was a lilt of laughter in her voice which I had noticed from the first. 'Oh Tamsyn, you with twins!'

'I have a son too. He is seven years older than the twins.'

Senara took my left hand and Bersaba's right and studied us intently.

'Your mother and I were as sisters ... all our childhood until we were parted. Carlotta, come and meet these two children who are already dear to me because of their mother.'

Carlotta's gaze was appraising, I thought. She bowed gracefully to us.

'You have ridden far,' said Melanie.

'Yes, we have come from Plymouth. Last night we rested at a most indifferent inn. The beds were hard and the pork too salt, but I scarcely noticed, so eager was I to come to Castle Paling.'

'What great good fortune that you found us here. We are on a visit.'

'Of course. Your home would be at Trystan Priory. How is the good Fennimore?'

'At sea at the moment. We expect him home before long.'

'How I shall enjoy seeing you all again!'

'Tell us what has happened.'

Melanie was smiling. 'I know how you are feeling seeing each other after all these years, but, Senara, you must be weary. I will have a room made ready for you and your daughter, and you are hungry, I'll dareswear.'

'Oh Melanie, you were always so good, so practical ... And, Connell, I am forgetting you and the dear children ... But I am hungry and so, I know, is my daughter. If we could wash the stains of travel from our hands and faces and if we could eat some of this delicious-smelling food ... and then perhaps talk and talk of old times and the future ...'

Connell came to stand beside his wife. He said: 'Call the servants. Let them make ready for our guests.'

Melder, good housewife that she was, was already leaving us to issue orders.

'We'll hold back the meal,' said Melanie. 'In the meantime come to my room and you can wash there. Your rooms will not be ready yet.'

She and my mother went out with the newcomers and silence fell on the table.

'Who are these people?' asked Rozen. 'Mother and Aunt Tamsyn seem to know them well.'

'The elder one was born here at Castle Paling,' said Uncle Connell. 'Her mother was the victim of a wreck and was washed up on the coast. Senara was born about three months after. She lived here all her childhood and when our mother died our father married Senara's mother.'

'So this was her home.'

'Yes, it was her home.'

'And she went away and hasn't been heard of until now?'

'It's a long story,' said Connell. 'She went away to marry one of the Puritans and I think she went to Holland. No doubt we'll hear.'

'And she's come back after all these years! How long is it since she went away?'

Connell was thoughtful. 'Why,' he said, calculating, 'it must be nearly thirty years.'

'She must be old ... this Senara.'

'She would have been no more than seventeen when she went.'