The Captive Page 3

  The mummies in particular attracted me . in a rather morbid way. I felt that if I were alone in that room with them they would come to life.

  James Grafton used to meet us in the room sometimes. I would wander off and leave him to whisper with Felicity while I studied the faces of Osiris and Isis just as those who thought they were divine must have seen them all those years ago.

  One day my father came into the room and saw us there. There was a moment of puzzlement until it dawned on him that here in this holy of holies was his own daughter.

  I was standing by the mummy-shaped coffin of King Menkara one of the oldest in the collection when he came upon me. His eyes lit up with sudden pleasure.

  “Well, Rosetta, I am pleased to find you here.”

  “I have come with Miss Wills,” I said.

  He turned slowly to where Felicity and James were standing.

  “I see …” There was a look on his face which in others might have seemed quite puckish but with him it was just rather indulgently knowledgeable.

  “You are attracted by the mummies, I see.”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “It’s incredible … the remains of these people being here after all those years.”

  “I am delighted to see your interest. Come with me.”

  I followed him to where Felicity and James were standing.

  “I am taking Rosetta to my room,” he said.

  “Perhaps you would join us in … say, an hour?”

  “Oh, thank you, sir,” said James.

  I knew what my father was doing. He was giving them a little time alone. It was amusing to think of my father playing Cupid.

  I was taken to his room which I had never seen before. It was lined with books from floor to high ceiling, and there were several glass-doored cabinets which contained all sorts of objects such as stones covered in hieroglyphics and there were some carved images.

  “This is the first time you have seen where I work,” he said.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “I am pleased that you are displaying some interest. We do wonderful work here. If you had been a boy I should have wanted you to follow me.”

  I felt I ought to apologize for and defend my sex.

  “Like my mother .. ” I began.

  “She is an exceptional woman.”

  Yes, of course. I could hardly aspire to that. Exceptional I was not.

  I had spent my happy childhood with people below stairs who had entertained me, loved me, and made me contented with my lot.

  As the embarrassment which our encounters never failed to engender seemed to be building up, he plunged into a description of embalming processes to which I listened entranced, all the time marvelling that I was in the British Museum talking to my father.

  Felicity and James Grafton eventually joined us. It was an unusual morning, but by this time I had realized that change was on the way.

  Very soon after that Felicity became engaged to James Grafton. I was both excited and apprehensive. It was good to see Felicity so happy and to know something which had never occurred to me until Mrs. Harlow pointed it out, that she was secure.

  But there was, of course, the question of what would become of me.

  My parents were taking more interest in me, which was in itself disconcerting. I had been discovered by my father showing interest in the exhibits in the Egyptian Room of the British Museum. We had had a little talk in his room there. I was not exactly the ignoramus they had previously thought me. I had a brain which had lain dormant for all these years but I might possibly grow up to be one of them.

  Felicity was to be married in March of the following year. I had passed my thirteenth birthday. Felicity was to stay with us until a week before the marriage; then she would go to the house of Professor Wills, who had been responsible for her admission into our household, and from there be married; and in due course she and James would set up house in Oxford to whose university he was attached. The big question was what course should my education now take?

  Having received a gift of money from her uncle. Felicity was now able to indulge in replenishing her scanty wardrobe, a task in which I

  joined with great enthusiasm, though never quite able to escape from the big question of my future and the prospect of facing the emptiness which her departure must inevitably mean.

  I tried to imagine what it would be like without her. She had become part of my life, and closer even than the others. Would there be a new governess of the more traditional sort at cross purposes with Mrs. Harlow and the rest? There was only one Felicity in the world and I had been lucky to have her with me all those years. But there is little comfort in recalling past luck which is about to be snatched away so that the future looks uncertain.

  It was about three weeks before the date fixed for the wedding when my parents sent for me.

  Since my meeting with my father in the British Museum there had been a subtle change in our relationship. They had certainly become more interested in me and in spite of the fact that I had always told myself I was happy to be without their attention, I was now faintly pleased to have it.

  “Rosetta,” said my mother.

  “Your father and I have decided that it is time you went away to school.”

  This was not unexpected, of course. Felicity had talked to me about it.

  “It’s a distinct possibility,” she had said, ‘and really it’s the best thing. Governesses are all very well but you’ll meet people of your own age, and you will enjoy that. “

  I could not believe I would enjoy anything as much as being with her and I told her so.

  She hugged me tightly.

  “There’ll be holidays and you can come and stay with us.”

  I remembered that now, so I was prepared.

  “Gresham’s is a very good school,” said my father.

  “It has been highly recommended. I think it will be most suitable.”

  “You will be going there in September,” went on my mother.

  “It’s the start of the term. There will be certain preparations. Then there is Nanny Pollock, of course.”

  Nanny Pollock! So I was to lose her, too. I felt a great sadness. I remembered those loving arms . those whispered endearments, the comfort I had received.

  “We shall give her a good reference,” said my mother.

  “She has been excellent,” added my father. Changes changes all around. And the only one who was moving to a happier state was Felicity. There was always some good in everything, Mr. Dolland had said. But how I hated change.

  The weeks passed too quickly. Every morning I awoke with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The future loomed before me, unfamiliar and therefore alarming. I had lived too long in unruffled serenity.

  Nanny Pollock was very sad.

  “It always comes,” she said.

  “Little chicks don’t stay that way forever. You’ve cared for them like they was your own … and then comes the day. They’ve grown up. They’re not your babies any more.”

  “Oh Nanny, Nanny. I’ll never forget you.”

  “Nor I you, lovey. I’ve had my pets, but them upstairs being as they are made you more my little baby … if you know what I mean.”

  “I do. Nanny.”

  “It’s not that they was cruel … or hard-hearted … no, none of that. They was just absentminded, like … so deep in all that unnatural writing and what it means and all those kings and queens kept in their coffins all them years. It was unhealthy as well as unnatural and I never did think much of it. Little babies is more important than a lot of dead kings and queens and all the signs they made because they didn’t know how to write properly.”

  I laughed and she was glad to see me smile.

  She cheered up a little.

  “I’m all right,” she said.

  “I’ve got a cousin in Somerset. Keeps her own chickens. I always like a real fresh egg for breakfast… laid that morning. I might go to her. I don’t fee
l like taking on another… but I might. Anyway, there’s no worry on that score. Your mother says not to hurry. I can stay here if I want till I find something I like.”

  At length Felicity was married from the house of Professor Wills in Oxford. I went down with my parents for the wedding. We drank the health of the newly married pair and I saw Felicity in her strawberry-coloured going away costume which I had seen before and in fact helped her to choose. She looked radiant and I told myself I must be glad for her while feeling sorry for myself.

  When I returned to London they wanted to know all about the wedding.

  “She must have made a lovely bride,” said Mrs. Harlow.

  “I hope she’s happy. God bless her. She deserves to be. You never know with them professors. They’re funny things.”

  “Like governesses, you used to say,” I reminded her.

  “Well, I reckon she wasn’t a real governess. She was one on her own.”

  Mr. Dolland said we should all drink to the health and happiness of the happy pair. So we did.

  The conversation was doleful. Nanny Pollock had almost decided to go to her cousin in Somerset for a spell. She had drunk a little too much wine and had become maudlin.

  “Governesses … nannies … it’s their fate. They should know better. They shouldn’t get attached to other people’s children.”

  “But we’re not going to lose each other. Nanny,” I reminded her.

  “No. You’ll come and see me, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “But it won’t be the same. You’ll be a grownup young lady. Them schools … they do something to you.”

  “They’re supposed to educate you.”

  “It won’t be the same,” insisted Nanny Pollock, shaking her head dolefully.

  “I know how Nanny is feeling,” said Mr. Dolland.

  “Felicity has gone.

  That was the start. And that’s how it always is with change. A little bit here, a little bit there, and you realize everything is becoming different. “

  “And before you can say Jack Robinson,” added Mrs. Harlow, ‘it’s another kettle of fish. “

  “Well, you can’t stand still in life,” said Mr. Dolland philosophically.

  “I don’t want change,” I cried out.

  “I want us all to go on as we always did. I didn’t want Felicity to get married. I wanted it to stay like it always has been.”

  Mr. Dolland cleared his throat and solemnly quoted:

  ‘“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

  Mr. Dolland sat back and folded his arms and there was silence. He had pointed out with his usual dramatic emphasis that this was life and we must all accept what we could not alter.

  Storm at Sea

  In due course I went away to school. I was wretched for a time but I soon settled in. I found community life to my liking. I had always been interested in other people and I was soon making friends and joining in school activities.

  Felicity had done quite well with my education, and I was neither outstandingly brilliant nor dull. I was like so many others, which is perhaps the best thing to be for it makes life easier. No one envied me my scholarship and no one despised me for my lack of it. I soon mingled with the rest and became a very average schoolgirl.

  The days passed quickly. School joys, dramas and triumphs became part of my life, although I often thought nostalgically of the kitchen at meal times and particularly of Mr. Dolland’s ‘turns’. We had drama classes and plays were put on in the gymnasium for the entertainment of the school. I was Bassanio in The Merchant of Venice and scored a modest success which I was sure was due to what I had learned from Mr. Dolland’s technique.

  Then there were the holidays. Nanny Pollock had decided to go to Somerset after all and I spent a week with her and her cousin; she had become reconciled to life in the country and, a year or so after she left Bloomsbury, the death of a distant relative brought complete contentment back to her life.

  The deceased was a young woman who had left a two-year-old child and there was consternation in the family as to who would take care of the orphan. It was a heaven-sent opportunity for Nanny Pollock. A child to care for, one whom she could make her own and who would not be snatched from her as those of other people were.

  When I went home I was expected now to dine with my parents and although my relationship with them had changed considerably I longed for the old kitchen meals. However, when they went away from London researching or lecturing, I was able to revert to the old customs.

  We missed Felicity and Nanny Pollock, of course, but Mr. Dolland was in as sparkling a form as ever and Mrs. Harlow’s comments retained the flavour of the old days.

  Then of course there was Felicity. She was always de lighted to see me.

  She was very happy and had a baby named James and she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the task of being a good wife and mother.

  She was a good hostess, too. It was necessary, she told me, for a man in James’s position to entertain now and then, so that was something she had had to learn. Growing up as I was, I could attend her dinner parties and I found that I enjoyed them.

  It was at one of them that I made the acquaintance of Lucas Lorimer.

  Felicity told me something of him before I met him.

  “By the way,” she said, “Lucas Lorimer is coming tonight. You’ll like him. Most people do. He is charming, good-looking … well, good-looking enough … and he has the trick of making everyone feel they’re enormously interesting. You know what I mean. Don’t be deceived. He’s like that with everyone. He’s rather a restless sort of person, I imagine. He was in the Army for a spell. But he retired from that. He’s the younger son. His elder brother Carleton has just inherited the estate in Cornwall, which is quite considerable, I think. The father died only a few months ago, and Lucas is rather at a loose end. There is plenty to do on the estate but I imagine he’s the sort who would want to be in command. He’s a little unsure of what he wants to do at the moment. A few years ago he found a charm … a relic of some sort, in the gardens of Trecorn Manor … that’s the name of this place in Cornwall. There was a certain excitement about this find. It was Egyptian and there’s some speculation as to how it came to be there. Your father is connected with it.”

  “I expect it was covered in hieroglyphics.”

  “That must have been how they recognized its source.” She laughed.

  “At the time he wrote a book about it. He became interested, you see, and did a bit of research. He found out that it was a medal awarded for some military service and that led him on to the ancient customs of Egypt and he came upon some which had never been heard of before. This book has interested one or two people like your father. Anyway you’ll meet him and judge for yourself.”

  I did meet him that night.

  He was tall, slim and lithe; one was immediately aware of his vitality.

  “This is Rosetta Cranleigh,” said Felicity.

  “How delightful to meet you,” he said, taking both my hands and gazing at me.

  She was right. He did make one feel important and as though his words were not merely a formality. I felt myself believing him in spite of Felicity’s warning.

  Felicity went on: “Professor Cranleigh’s daughter and my one-time pupil. In fact the only one I ever had.”

  “This is so exciting,” he said.

  “I have met your father … a brilliant man.”

  Felicity left us to talk together. He did most of the talking. He told me how helpful my father had been and how grateful he was to have had so much of the important gentleman’s time.

  Then he wanted to know about me. I confessed that I was still at school, that this was my holiday and I had another two or three terms to come.

  “And then what shall you do?”

  I lifted my shoulders.

  “You�
�ll be married before long, I dare say,” he said, implying that my charms were such that husbands would be vying with each other to win me.

  “One never knows what will happen to us.”

  “How very true,” he remarked as though my trite remark made a sage of me.

  Felicity was right. He set out to please. It was rather transparent when one had been warned, but pleasant, I had to admit.

  I found myself seated beside him at dinner. He was very easy to talk to. He told me about the find in the garden, and how to a certain extent it had changed his life.

  “The family have always been connected with the Army and I have broken the tradition. My uncle was a colonel of the regiment, hardly ever in England, always doing his duty at some outpost of Empire. I discovered it wasn’t the life for me so I got out.”

  “It must have been very exciting, finding this relic.”

  “It was. When I was in the Army I spent some time in Egypt. That made it rather specially interesting. I just saw it lying there. The soil was damp and one of the gardeners was doing some planting. It was covered in hieroglyphics.”

  “You needed the Rosetta Stone.”

  He laughed.

  “Oh, not quite so obscure as that. Your father translated it.”

  “I’m glad of that. I was named after the stone, you know.”

  “Yes, I did know. Felicity told me. How proud you must be.”

  “I used to be. When I first went to the Museum I gazed at it in wonder.”

  He laughed.

  “Names are important. You would never! guess what my first name is.” S Tell me. ” | ” Hadrian. Just imagine being burdened with such a name. I People would constantly be asking how you were getting on with

  the wall. Hadrian Edward Lucas Lorimer. Hadrian was out for reasons I’ve mentioned. Edward . well, there are a great number of Edwards in the world. Lucas is less used . so I became Lucas. But you realize what my initials make? It’s rather extraordinary. HELL.”

  “I am sure it is most inappropriate,” I said with a laugh.

  “Ah, but you do not know me. Have you another name?”

  “No, just Rosetta Cranleigh.”