"One passenger?" I said.
"Why, yes, there was but one," said Jonathan, staring at me. "Is anything the matter? You looked wisht and strange."
I went on listening to the gulls above the harbor, and now there were children's voices also, laughing and crying, as they played upon the steps of the quay. "There is nothing the matter," I said. "What else have you to tell me?"
He went to his desk in the far corner, and, opening a drawer, took out a length of rope, with a rusted hinge upon it.
"As the passenger was put aboard the vessel," said my brother-in-law, "he gave the fisher lad this piece of rope, and bade him hand it, on his return, to Mr. Rashleigh. The lad brought it to me as I breakfasted just now. There was a piece of paper wrapped about it, with these words written on the face: 'Tell Honor that the least of the Grenviles chose his own method of escape.' "
He handed me the little scrap of paper.
"What does it mean?" he asked. "Do you understand it?"
For a long while I did not answer. I sat there with the paper in my hands, and I saw once more the ashes of the summerhouse blocking for evermore the secret tunnel, and I saw too the silent cell, like a dark tomb, in the thick buttress wall.
"Yes, Jonathan," I said, "I understand."
He looked at me a moment, and then went to the table and put the rope and hinge back in the drawer.
"Well," he said, "it's over now, praise heaven. The danger and the strain. There is nothing more that we can do."
"No," I answered. "Nothing more that we can do."
He fetched two glasses from the sideboard, and filled them with wine from the decanter. Then he handed one to me. "Drink this," he said kindly, his hand upon my arm. "You have been through great anxiety." He took his glass, and lifted it to the ship that had carried his father to the Armada.
"To the other Frances," he said, "and to the King's General in the West. May he find sanctuary and happiness in Holland."
I drank the toast in silence, then put the glass back upon the table. "You have not finished it," he said. "That spells ill luck to him whom we have toasted."
I took the glass again, and this time I held it up against the light so that the wine shone clear and red.
"Did you ever hear," I said, "those words that Bevil Grenvile wrote to Jonathan Trelawney?"
"What words were those?"
Once more we were assembled, four-and-twenty hours ago, in the long gallery at Menabilly. Richard at the window, Gartred on the couch, and Dick, in his dark corner, with his eyes upon his father. " 'And for mine own part,' " I quoted slowly, " 'I desire to acquire an honest name or an honorable grave. I never loved my life or ease so much as to shun such an occasion, which, if I should, I were unworthy of the profession I have held, or to succeed those ancestors of mine who have so many of them, in several ages, sacrificed their lives for their country.' "
I drank my wine then to the dregs, and gave the glass to Jonathan.
"Great words," said my brother-in-law, "and the Grenviles were all great men. As long as the name endures, we shall be proud of them in Cornwall. But Bevil was the finest of them. He showed great courage at the last."
"The least of them," I said, "showed great courage also."
"Which one was that?" he asked.
"Only a boy," I said, "whose name will never now be written in the great book at Stowe, nor his grave be found in the little churchyard at Kilkhampton."
"You are crying," said Jonathan slowly. "This time has been hard and long for you. There is a bed prepared for you above. Let Matty take you to it. Come now, take heart. The worst is over. The best is yet to be. One day the King will come into his own again; one day your Richard will return."
I looked up at the model of the ship upon the ledge, and across the masts to the blue harbor water. The fishing boats were making sail, and the gulls flew above them crying, white wings against the sky.
"One day," I said, "when the snow melts, when the thaw breaks, when the spring comes."
What Happened to the People in the Story
SIR RICHARD GRENVILE
The King's General never returned to England again. He bought a house in Holland, where he lived with his daughter Elizabeth until his death in 1659, just a year before the Restoration. He offered his services to the Prince of Wales in exile (afterwards Charles II), but they were not accepted, due to the ill feeling between himself and Sir Edward Hyde, later Earl of Clarendon. The exact date of his death is uncertain, but he is said to have died in Ghent, lonely and embittered, with these words only for his epitaph: "Sir Richard Grenvile, the King's General in the West."
SIR JOHN GRENVILE (JACK). BERNARD GRENVILE (BUNNY)
These two brothers were largely instrumental in bringing about the restoration of Charles II in 1660. They both married, lived happily, and were in high favor with the King. John was created Earl of Bath.
GARTRED DENYS
She never married again, but left Orley Court and went to live with one of her married daughters, Lady Hampson, at Taplow, where she died at the ripe age of eighty-five.
JONATHAN RASHLEIGH
Suffered further imprisonment for debt at the hands of Parliament, but lived to see the Restoration. He died in 1675, a year after his wife, Mary.
JOHN RASHLEIGH
He died in 1651, aged only thirty, in Devon, when on the road home to Menabilly, after a visit to London about his father's business. His widow Joan lived in Fowey until her death in 1668, aged forty-eight. Her son Jonathan succeeded to his grandfather's estates at Menabilly.
SIR PETER COURTNEY
He deserted his wife, ran hopelessly into debt, married a second time, and died in 1670.
ALICE COURTNEY
Lived the remainder of her life at Menabilly, and died there in 1659, aged forty. There is a tablet to her memory in the church at Tywardreath.
AMBROSE MANATON
Little is known about him, except that he was M.P. for Camelford in 1668. His estate, Trecarrel, fell into decay.
ROBIN AND HONOR HARRIS
The brother and sister lived in retirement at Tywardreath, in a house provided for them by Jonathan Rashleigh. Honor died on the 17th day of November 1653, and Robin in June 1655. Thus they never lived to see the Restoration. The tablet to their memory in the church runs thus: "In memory of Robert Harris, sometime Major General of His Majesty's forces before Plymouth, who was buried hereunder the 29th day of June 1655. And of Honor Harris, his sister, who was likewise hereunder neath buried, the 17th day of November, in the year of our Lord 1653.
Loyall and stout; thy Crime this--this thy praise,
Thou'rt here with Honor laid--thought without Bayes."
Postscript
In the year 1824, Mr. William Rashleigh, of Menabilly, in the parish of Tywardreath in Cornwall, had certain alterations made to his house, in the course of which the outer courtyard was removed, and blocked in to form kitchens and a larder. The architect, summoned to do the work, noticed that the buttress against the northwest corner of the house served no useful purpose, and he told the masons to demolish it. This they proceeded to do, and on knocking away several of the stones they came upon a stair, leading to a small room, or cell, at the base of the buttress. Here they found the skeleton of a young man, seated on a stool, a trencher at his feet, and the skeleton was dressed in the clothes of a Cavalier, as worn during the period of the Civil War. Mr. William Rashleigh, when he was told of the discovery, gave orders for the remains to be buried with great reverence in the churchyard at Tywardreath. And because he and his family were greatly shocked at the discovery, he ordered the masons to brick up the secret room, that no one in the household should come upon it in future. The alterations of the house continued, the courtyard was blocked in, a larder built against the buttress, and the exact whereabouts of the cell remained forever a secret held by Mr. Rashleigh and his architect. When he consulted family records, Mr. Rashleigh learned that certain members of the Grenvile family had hidden at Menabilly be
fore the rising of 1648, and he surmised that one of them had taken refuge in the secret room and had been forgotten. This tradition has been handed down to the present day.
DAPHNE DU MAURIER
About the Author
Daphne du Maurier (1907-1989) was born in London, the daughter of the actor Sir Gerald du Maurier and granddaughter of the author and artist George du Maurier. Her first novel, The Loving Spirit, was published in 1931, but it would be her fifth novel, Rebecca, that made her one of the most popular authors of her day. Besides novels, du Maurier wrote plays, biographies, and several collections of short fiction. Many of her works were made into films, including Rebecca, Jamaica Inn, My Cousin Rachel, "Don't Look Now," and "The Birds." She lived most of her life in Cornwall, and was made a Dame of the British Empire in 1969.
Books by Daphne du Maurier
Novels
The Loving Spirit
I'll Never Be Young Again
Julius
Jamaica Inn
Rebecca
Frenchman's Creek
Hungry Hill
The King's General
The Parasites
My Cousin Rachel
Mary Anne
The Scapegoat
Castle Dor
The GlassBlowers
The Flight of the Falcon
The House on the Strand
Rule Britannia
Short Stories
The Birds and Other Stories
The Breaking Point: Stories
Don't Look Now and Other Stories
Nonfiction
Gerald: A Portrait
The du Mauriers
The Infernal World of Branwell Bronte
Golden Lads: A Study of Anthony Bacon, Francis, and Their Friends
The Winding Stair: Francis Bacon, His Rise and Fall
Myself When Young
The Rebecca Notebook and Other Memories
Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
To receive special offers, bonus content, and news about our latest ebooks and apps, sign up for our newsletters.
Sign Up
Or visit us at hachettebookgroup.com/newsletters
For more about this book and author, visit Bookish.com.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
What Happened to the People in the Story
Postscript
About the Author
Books by Daphne du Maurier
Newsletters
Copyright
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright (c) 1946 by The Estate of Daphne du Maurier Foreword copyright (c) 2004 by Justine Picardie Cover design by Susan Zucker
Cover image by Arcangel
Cover copyright (c) 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
littlebrown.com
twitter.com/littlebrown
facebook.com/littlebrownandcompany
First Little, Brown ebook edition: December 2013
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
ISBN 978-0-316-25295-9
E3