My father—who was hers also—had hated her, she said. Perhaps he disliked children generally. He was not emerging as a very pleasant person. He had quarreled with one wife, and another—my mother—had left him. I did know a little of her and my memories were of love, care, security, all that a child looks for in a mother. If she had loved her child and left such memories, could it be her fault that she had failed to make a happy marriage? There could be all sorts of reasons, of course. Good mothers were not necessarily good wives. Oh, how I wished they would tell me what I so desperately wanted to know!
Then I remembered something I had heard. My father had kept to his room a good deal but he had had a valet-secretary, Fenwick. What had I heard of him? That he had left the castle and gone to the mainland. Now if I could have a word with Fenwick, I might discover something about my father. I decided to try and wondered how best to tackle the problem. If I asked Jago he would say: "What can Fenwick tell you that I can't?" Perhaps he was right but all the same I could not discover what I wanted to know from him and a second person's opinion was always valuable. Secretary-valets often knew more of their employers than a close relation. I couldn't ask Gwennol or Jenifry because there was too much restraint between us.
While I was pondering this, letters came from the mainland. One of the boats went over each day—weather permitting—to collect mail. In this bag I was delighted to find one from Esmeralda. I had written to her from the mainland about my journey and again from the castle, giving her my early impressions. I seized on her letter and took it to my room to read.
She was glad that I was finding life with my relations interesting. The castle sounded wonderful. She longed to see it. Her parents had given several balls for her and she had met a very pleasant young man named Freddy Bellings. He was a second son but the Bellings were wealthy and her mother was not displeased at the friendship between them. There was a good deal about Freddy—the color of his eyes, the kindness of his manner and the way in which he could make jokes without hurting anyone's feelings in doing so. I could see that Esmeralda was delighted with Freddy and that pleased me because I had always had a conscience about Philip, who had been intended for her.
"Mrs. Oman Lemming's governess has a bad time, I think. She looks such a poor frightened creature. Oh, Ellen, you would never have done it. You were lucky to escape that.
"We see a great deal of the Carringtons," she went on. "Lady Emily has started to give parties again. No one mentions Philip but Lady Emily looks a little sad at times. She asks me how you are getting on and hopes you are happy. There is someone else who asks about you. Rollo. He wanted to know where you had gone and whether you were settling down. I had just received your letter about that exciting island and castle and everything. He was most interested."
I dropped the letter. I was so glad Esmeralda had found her Freddy and it seemed too good to be true that she should feel as she obviously did about him and Cousin Agatha also approved. I was surprised though that Rollo should be interested in what I was doing. Perhaps he repented of his harshness to me. It was an indication of how far I had grown away from the past when my thoughts were almost immediately back with the problem of the moment. How to find Fenwick and talk to him about my father.
The Pengellys were knowledgeable about what was going on in the neighborhood and would be as likely to know the whereabouts of Fenwick as anyone. I decided I would go to the inn and see what I could discover.
I would rather enjoy rowing myself over, and as the sea was very calm and I was now well practiced, I thought it would be a good opportunity to do so. Once I had rowed to the mainland and back I should feel competent enough to do it often.
I set off in the Ellen and when I, in due course, reached the mainland I went straight to the inn, where I found Mrs. Pengelly and asked her if she could spare a few moments, as I had something I wished to say to her.
She brought out the inevitable homemade wine and saffron cakes, and over them I asked if she had any idea where I might find Mr. Fenwick.
"You be thinking of him who worked up at the castle for Mr. Charles Kellaway."
"Yes, my father's secretary-valet."
"Well, he did leave, you know, when your father died."
"That's not very long ago. Where did he go? Did you hear?"
"Why yes, I did. He retired to a little cottage down in Fallerton."
"Where is that?"
"Oh, 'tis but six or seven miles from here. I did hear he were a market gardener of sorts—growing vegetables and flowers and such-like."
"I want to go and see him."
She looked alarmed.
"I want to talk to him about my father."
She shook her head. "Your father were very ill at the end, Miss Ellen. 'Twould only distress you, maybe, to hear how very ill."
"I naturally want to hear about my family. It seems so difficult to get people to tell me."
"Well, I can't tell 'ee much, Miss Ellen. I was away seventeen years ago. When your mother went, there weren't nothing for me to stay for."
"I understand he was rather
