Chapter 8 The further acquaintance

Rosie could eventually fall asleep only by morning. She was awakened by Jenny. The latter beamed at her and said that it was already a high noon and the late time even for the young lady. Rosamund stretched herself in her bed and yawned. Yes, it was a new day and the new life for her. So let's start it. She had her breakfast (or better to say lunch) where the day before it she had dinner. This time the cook wondered how long these ladies slept. Two girls went out of the kitchen and saw Tilly coming to meet them. "Miss Rosamund, you have woken up at last. Good morning. Did you sleep well?" "Thank you, Tilly. Alas, I wish I was a better sleeper. It was pretty chilly." "Such is the disadvantage of living in a castle." "Tilly, I would like to ask you about two things." "I am at your service." "Do you have here any cat?" "Were you disturbed by mice? Yes, this is one more minus. But in fact, we have the most real family of cats." Suddenly there was a loud bang. Rosie started turning her head around in the quickest way. "Did your Thomas fall?" asked Jenny. "It is must be Mr Mouth," said Tilly not noticing Jenny's question, "the head of our cat family and the main mice-catcher. He succeeds in his work well enough. Those mice in your room must have been very lucky." "In fact there was just one." "The fortunate one..." remarked Tilly. "Didn't you shriek? Blind me! You have very thick walls!" exclaimed Jenny. "I didn't scream, Jenny. Why do you not believe me?" "You would make everyone go deaf after seeing a little cockroach." "Jenny! Don't remind me about these nasty creatures." "You wanted to ask me one more question, didn't you, Miss Rosamund?" Tilly interfered. "Oh, yes. My parents said that my grandmother lives here. I would like to see her." "Did they not notify you?" "About what?" "Ah..." Tilly made a humble pause. "So they did not tell you... All right, everything is regard to their opinion. If they think that you should see it yourself, let it be. My only duty is to serve you." The girls looked at each other. The housekeeper talked in riddles. What did she want to say...? Tilly showed them to one door, opened it and let them in. In that room was a big armchair with a small brown wrinkled creature in it. She wore only a nightshirt and a cap and was covered with a rug. Little fluffy kittens were romping around her. In the corner near the fireplace a beautiful cat with long golden-reddish and white fur lay on its cushion. That must have been the mother of all these young ones. Eyes of the old woman were dropped and her heavy eyelids were scarcely opened, which made it unclear whether she was awake and watched kittens' play or was sleeping. "It is your grandmother, Miss Rosamund," said Tilly. "And this is Mrs Mouth, the factual wife of Mr Mouth and the mother of all these kittens," she pointed at the cat. "She is more of an indoor cosy type. It's Mr Mouth who is our true sportsman. But she too catches mice when she does want." Rosie came up to the armchair. She wanted to speak to this creature but didn't know how to start. Then Tilly bent to the old woman. "Madam! Madam, do you hear me?" She asked. In answer some quiet groans were uttered. "Madam! Listen, Madam. Your granddaughter has come." There were groans again, then hardly recognizable: "What..." "I say your granddaughter has come," said Tilly louder. Old woman raised her eyes. They were as if from glass, devoid from thoughts at all, and just looked blankly before her. "Madam, look there," Tilly showed in the direction of Rosie. "This is your granddaughter Rosamund." "My granddaughter?" said the old woman in a voice rough, tremulous and squeaky at the same time. She looked at the young girl with a lifeless imbecilic expression, which Rosie would hardly ever forget. "Tilly... what nonsense are you saying? I have no granddaughter..." "You do and Miss Rosamund is she," insisted Tilly. "How could I have a granddaughter if I had never been married?" Tilly looked up at the girls and pressed her plump lips. Rosie stood with the opened mouth and spoke no word. Jenny whispered: "God Gracious..." Yes, old Lady Vernon was mad. Abandoned and forgotten by her children and other relatives here she was finishing her wretched earthly existence, as senseless as her mind. The only person that would never leave her was Tilly, her black slave who was trusted the sitting with her and keeping this secret of Vernon family. Of course the black woman didn't like and despised her mistress for her insanity, while her own mind was clearer than ever could be in her age. But she was attached to this dreadful burden and couldn't help it though she hated it with all of her nature. For her the cats were more human beings than this vegetable. Only, it was her duty... Tilly came up to Rosie and put hands on her shoulder. The young lady slightly touched one of them but didn't speak or take her eyes from her grandmother. "Come. This place is not for such a young gentle lady like you," said Tilly and made a jest to Jenny ordering to help her to show her from this room. They took her by the shoulders and led her out. It is really a great shock to know one day that your own grandmother is weak-minded. The state of our Rosie may be compared to Mozart's Fantasy re minor. At first she knew this terrible bitter truth and then her mood was all quite whining melancholy. This dreadful place... This old ruining house, in which everything collapses too... Within these thick cold stone walls is concealed this malady of regress that little by little destroys the building itself... Tilly and Jenny took Rosie back to her room. She lay on her bed and said that she needed to be alone. Yes, everything seemed here to be disposed to sucking out any signs of living. These grand grey halls, long corridors, which seemed to go to nowhere, chilly draughts... The conditions were really depressing. But the only way not to go mad is to do some activity. Oh, she hadn't yet set her things in the way that was suitable for her. Rosie's spirit rose and she was full ready for action. By its end Mozart's work too becomes gay. She began looking in her drawers but the greatest her concern was the desk. She put her stuff as she herself wanted it to be put. All her writing, painting supplies, her little boxes... These were her weakness. The young girl needed some secrets to have and, besides, they are good containers for small articles. But, oh! In one of them she found Dellis's ring and she completely forgot about it. How beautiful it was... She wondered where he was, how he was, what was with him... But she shouldn't think about him. She came here to forget, so put the ring back into the box and hid it in a distant place. The life was at its very start and continuing. Rosie took her light summer white mantle and came down. Everybody gathered there and seeing her was anxious. "It is all fine with me, thank you. Now I would like to have some walk alone. Today the weather is lovely." She went out. The sun was shining with all of its power... The grass was fresh and odorous... And each lovely little flower enchantedly smells and lures. In the blue sky bright flowed a few clouds white. Dark green velvet curly trees were humming with light summer breeze. For a walk it was such charming time and, Oh my!, we have a rhyme! In a word, the nature was rejoicing like Vivaldi's "Spring". The only things that hinted somehow at yesterday's storm were the bit humid grass, quickly drying paddles and darkened spackled ground. In the forth the vast blue sea was seen, which the young lady had never seen before at all. She wanted to look at it closer. The shores of Cornwall were rather rocky. She stood on such boulder golden by sunlight and watched marine movements, its ups and downs. She listened to its noise and breathed in its air, admiring the fairness of nature. From there she saw the yellowish beach and a convenient place for climbing down. Rosie walked along it very near the climbing foaming waters. She felt the breeze on her face. The scene was so wonderful that she could stand there motionless with closed eyes enjoying this peace for I wonder how long. Only the sun was too bright for her white skin. She threw on her head her mantle and continued walking. She came very close to the sea, and touched it with her hand. Suddenly she heard some crack. She turned around but could see no one among sunlit stones and pebbles. And yet the girl had a strange feeling of being watched... She continued her way. In front of her rose very high rocks. She looked upwards. It seemed that there was a marvellous looking area, so she had a wish to get there. It was an extension of the land with some growth. A really breath-taking view opened their and everything could have be seen. But that wasn't the only interest about it. There also grew some very pretty flowers very like dandy-lines but only of bright striped colouration. Rosie picked one of them. She had never seen such or imagined that they can grow there. It had a very interestingly pleasant and strong odour. It seemed that the smell filled all her organism and went to the head like some alcohol. How interesting... Then she looked downwards to another side and saw a narrow path. Rosie decided to satisfy her curiosity and trailed it. There in the great rock was a cave. The young lady had never till then been in a cave so entered. As premises it was rather low and dark. Who would keep in such a place lit-up candles? And yet she saw that it was extending much further. Her head went dizzy and it became very difficult to breathe. The girl thought it had been caused by bad air and stuffiness in the cave and difference of atmospheric pressure. She was her science teacher's favourite. She went out and again climbed up to that platform. Her state seemed only to get worse. To all this also was added some weakness, her legs gave way and image in her eyes became somehow fuzzy. She sat on grass. A strange feeling appeared in her hands and fingers... It seemed that something pricked them. She began hearing some strange noise. With her hands Rosie seized her head. A voice... A strange voice began whispering to her... It said: "I hate you... I'll get you... You will never escape..." She rolled on the ground in convulsion. Something was tormenting her... This voice laughed with jeering in the most malicious way. Rosie lay there breathing hardly. Little by little this came to end... But what was it? And what's more, what had caused it? Rosie put her head on one side. Those many-coloured flowers were very near her face. She sat up with the lightning's speed. She was looking at them and thinking for some while. Then picked up a couple more but didn't smell them. She walked back to the house. The day before that it was a problem to scrutinize it. Now it was a clear day and sunny so their second acquaintance should have passed without problems. Marine Hall was a real castle from about Elizabethan times or even older. Some of it parts were pretty ruined. At night it was terrifying, a real scene for gothic novel with Bach's organ music as an accompaniment. In daylight it looked conversely. It was like a big grey pile set among this picturesque place. And yet this house wasn't hideous at all. Had it been overhauled and reconstructed, it would have become a good example of age-old architecture and just a lovely and romantic place. Then was the hall's turn. Rosie came in. Jenny and Tilly were still there and, unbelievable, speaking in the most lively way. The young lady watched this scene smiling. At last they noticed her. Jenny exclaimed: "Miss Rosie, what is with your dress?" Rosie looked at it. Indeed, it was all speckled. "The grass..." she said and laughed. Other ones first looked at each other, then at her. "Freedom has been given to you for just one day. Now look at yourself. What are you like? Is it the way the young ladies wear. You should go and change," said Jenny in the most elder-sister-like manner. "I know... I know..." Rosie was repeating and laughing. "Go with me," ordered Jenny in a strict voice. "Wait, Jenny, just a minute..." the girl came up to the housekeeper and showed her the bouquet. "Tilly, please, tell me, what flowers are these?" "Were you on Lady's prominence? Is it there you stained your dress so?" "Lady's prominence?" "Yes... These flowers grow only there. I warn you, Miss, you should avoid and pass this place by no means. By the way, you, Jenny, too.' "But why?" both young girls asked. "Did you not feel anything there, Miss Rosamund?" "But what was it? Enlighten us," Rosie said after a short moment of silence. "Tomorrow Mrs Peterson will explain you better than I." "Who is Mrs Peterson?" asked Rosie. "She is our clergymen's wife, of Reverend Mr Peterson. Tomorrow is Sunday and then you will meet them." "And the flowers?" the young lady inquired. "Ah, flowers... Here we call them ale flowers. There is our own brewery in this castle. These flowers we add to the ale and get a really good one. Everyone who tastes it is delighted." "Ale? I see... " Rosamund said. "Only for the last time Gobletor, the host of the tavern which we supply with it, says that we try to cheat him. I assure you, our ale is really magnificent." "You don't waste your time I see," remarked Rosie. "Tilly, would you also mind to tell me more about this castle?" "Only after you change." "Of course." * After Rosie had changed Tilly held out for her a real excursion. She led her along tall corridors, showed her old frescos, rather primitive for amateur artist but not bad for past times, family portraits that darkened with age. The girl cast an eye on one picture that attracted her attention in special. That picture revealed a waist-deep portrait of a young woman with black hair in old-fashioned clothes. Sometimes some faces did attract her at once but the more she looked at them, the more she lost her interest in them. "Who is this?" Rosie asked. "How funny. I was just going to show it to you. This is Melanie Vernon, the sister of your ancestor Sir Paul Vernon. She was considered very beautiful." "Beautiful?! Had I such appearance all lads would run away from me," Jenny , who accompanied them, commented. "In different ages were different preferences and views about human's beauty, Jenny. Imagine that in some 200 years a young girl will look at your portrait and say just the same thing about your appearances," answered Rosie to her. "It's too terrific!" Jenny exclaimed. "Lady Melanie Vernon in spite of all her beauty was, well, you see... The legend says that she put a curse on all women that will be born or married to Vernon family..." "Did she? How strange, in ancient Greek the word "melos" meant dark and "melania" – blackness," Rosamund said. "Really? I didn't know," Tilly wondered at her young lady's erudition. "Indeed, it is a very suitable name for such a girl." "What else can you tell us about her?" "You will know the legend entirely but later. But I would also ask you to look at this portrait, - Tilly pointed to another portrait. "This is of Ann Vernon, Lady Melanie's sister." "Nice-looking enough for our age," Rosamund observed. "The legend tells she was of such women who are luckier with their brains than faces." "How interesting, what was valued then, we consider not pretty; what we value now, then was considered not pretty," Jenny made very wise meditations. "Yes-yes, Jenny," her lady supported her ironically. "And such beauty as of Miss Rosamund is valued always," added Tilly. "Blonds have all the luck..." "I would rather continue the acquaintance with the history of this place and my family," the very modest lady said. They continued... After some time visitable rooms of Marine Hall ran short. The only one that was left was the library. Such a great reader as Rosie was impatient to see it. They went in. It was a big room situated under the cupola of the house. The walls and cupola ceiling were decorated but time and dirt did not let them have been seen. On one side there was a fireplace that was not lit up for pretty long. There were three very large bookcases. Two of them contained very old religious books, the inheritance of long-ago ancestors. This place seemed both desert and left to the mercy of fate and not visited and cared by people. To tell the truth, only one showcase with family relics and the third bookcase with rather new books were looked after. "These are of your grandfather. He brought some with him when he came here," Tilly told. "It seems that only these books and that glass case are touched by human hands," Rosie said. "Indeed, we don't like to disturb this room." "Why?" the girl inquired. "Because it is haunted by a ghost..."