Lord of the Far Island, Victoria Holt [world of reading TXT] 📗

I told her in more detail what had happened; she listened intently, but her expression was less pleasant, as though she were brooding.

We went into the hall with its refectory table, pewter ornaments and companion benches and I felt that sense of peace which I had experienced when I had last been here.

"There's something so friendly about this house," I commented.

"We all feel it," said Gwennol shortly.

"Yes," added Michael, "there's a saying in the family that the house will either welcome or reject you and that one knows it almost as soon as one enters it. It certainly seems to welcome you, Miss Kellaway."

"That is endowing a house with a personality," I replied. "I do that. I didn't know many people did."

"Rather a fanciful notion, you think. But as you are so impressed by the house I should like to show it to you. You don't mind, Gwennol? Gwennol is a very old friend," he told me. "She knows the house as well as I do."

"I'd love to see it," I assured him, and Gwennol put in: "You know very well I can't see enough of the place."

"Look at that armor on the walls. Those breastplates were worn by ancestors of mine during the Civil War. These pewter vessels have been used by the family for hundreds of years. I like to keep everything as it was as far as possible."

"Jago is like that too, isn't he, Gwennol?" I said, for I was anxious that she should join in the conversation. I realized by this time that she had been expecting Michael at the inn and that he was the friend whom she was proposing to visit. She had not therefore been very pleased that I had already met him and was joining them. I fancied too that her feelings towards him were warmer than those of ordinary friendship; there was something about the manner in which she looked at him which betrayed it and the softness of her eyes and mouth was rare with her, I was sure.

"Jago would like to go back to feudal days," said Gwennol sharply. "He'd like to be not only the lord of the manor but lord of us all."

"He's very proud of the Island," I said, defending him, "and justly so. I've been talking to some of the people on my walks and it's easy to see how they respect him. He's done a great deal for the place."

"My dear Ellen, they're afraid to say a word against him. If he's not entirely their lord and master he's at least their landlord. He could turn them out of their homes tomorrow if they offended him."

"I am sure he would do no such thing," I said warmly.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at Michael. "Ellen has a great deal to learn," she said.

In his easy manner he diverted the subject from Jago and said: "Come and look at the chapel."

Our footsteps rang out as we crossed the stone flags of the hall and he led us up a stone spiral staircase to a heavy oak iron-studded door.

"Many a drama has taken place here. There's a priest's hole in this chapel I'll show you. There's also a lepers' squint. One can imagine the terror when the priest had to be hidden away at a moment's notice. One of my ancestors married a Spanish lady and she was the one who was reckless enough to have a priest in the house. Someday I intend to compile a history of the family. There are lots of documents in the vaults under the chapel."

"That sounds exciting."

"It's the sort of occupation which is fun if you share it with someone. Gwennol has promised to help me."

"There's nothing I should like more," she said, becoming animated. "Particularly with a family such as yours, Michael. Ours is rather different." She grimaced. "We're more the brigand type. You are the aristocrats."

"There are skeletons in the cupboards of most families," commented Michael. "Who knows what we shall unearth in these documents."

"What an exciting thought!" cried Gwennol, and she looked as though she would like to suggest they get down to the task immediately and leave me to wander round on my own.

The floor of the chapel was paved with small square stones set in a mosaic pattern. There were about twelve pews with linenfold ends. On the altar was a very fine cloth worked, he told me, by his grandmother, so comparatively recent. "There are two squints," he went on, "one is the lepers' squint from a small room beyond where lepers might come and look through into the chapel without contaminating or distressing those who were there. The other . . ." He pointed upwards. "That comes from a little alcove from above where the ladies used to congregate when they did not wish to come down to the chapel, perhaps through sickness or some incapacity. Now I'll take you to the solarium and show you the other squint."

"You see how wonderful it is," said Gwennol, "to belong to such a family."

"It's rather like a chain coming down through time," said Michael. "From each link springs another and so on. Luckily we have always had boys in the family, so the name has been preserved. I want my sons to have sons and so the name will be carried on."

"Have you sons?" I asked.

He laughed. "I haven't married so far."

"But you will," I said. "You will regard it as a duty to do so."

"I should like it to be something more than that."

Gwennol was looking at him intently and I thought: Yes, she is in love with him. I'm in the way. I shouldn't be with them. I ought to have seen that and said I wanted to go off on my own. She shows it clearly and just because he's too polite to show he doesn't really want me, I imagined he was eager for me to come.

"The solarium is a bright room—naturally," he was saying. "The