Eva Ibbotson - The Morning Gift

The dingy was beached now. Quin took a rope from the bows and tied it round a jagged rock — and together they made their way towards the boathouse. Since she had walked in a trance towards the rim of the sea, Ruth had never once looked backwards to the land. Now she stopped dead and said: ‘Oh, what is that? What is that place?’

‘What do you mean?’ Quin, at first, didn’t understand the question.

‘Up there. On the cliff. That building.’

‘That? Why, surely you know? That’s Bowmont.’

Ruth was unlucky. She could have seen it in driving rain or in winter when the wind blew so hard that no one had time to look upwards. She could have seen it, as many had, when a shipwreck brought weeping women to the shore, or on a day when the notorious ‘fret’ made it no more than a threatening, looming shape. But she saw it on a halcyon morning and she saw it, almost, from the sea. She saw it — half home, half fortress — with the pale limestone of its walls turned to gold and the white horses licking softly against the cliffs it guarded. Gulls wheeled over the tower, and the long windows threw back the dazzle of the sun.

‘You said it was a cold house on a cliff,’ said Ruth when she could speak again.

‘So it is. You’ll see when you come to lunch on Sunday.’

Ruth shook her head. ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘I shan’t be coming to lunch on Sunday. Nor on any other day.’

It was Kenneth Easton who had told the students that Verena would not be coming to the boathouse.

‘She’s staying up at Bowmont,’ he said as the train steamed out of King’s Cross Station. ‘The Somervilles have invited her.’ And as they stared at him: ‘It’s only natural — her family and the Professor’s belong to the same world. It’s what you’d expect.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ Sam had said staunchly. ‘It’s not like the Professor to single one student out.’

‘Lady Plackett’s going to be there as well. She and the Professor’s aunt are old friends. And there’s going to be a dance for Verena’s birthday. The Somervilles insisted,’ said Kenneth, well briefed in Verena’s version of events.

For Pilly and Janet, the thought that they wouldn’t have to share a dormitory with Verena came as a welcome relief, but Ruth had been silent for a while, staring out at the flat, rain-sodden fields. Quin’s story and hers was over — yet it had hurt a little that in spite of what he had said about Verena, he cared for her after all.

It had not taken her long to school her thoughts and tell herself how little this concerned her, but she meant what she said about not coming to lunch. Exaltation was one thing, but seeing Verena Plackett lording it in the house which, if this had been a proper marriage, would have been her home, was quite another.

One could expect only so much uplift, even from the sea.

Pilly had come closest in the speculations about Verena’s pyjamas. They were blue and mannish, but elasticated at the ankle for she wore them to do her exercises.

Verena always exercised with vigour, but this morning her press-ups had a particular élan and her thighs scissored the air with a special purpose, for she had decided, if all went as she hoped and she became Mrs Somerville, to accompany Quin on his expeditions, and fitness now was imperative.

Her window took in a view of the bay and the boat-house where the other students still slept. Verena had no objection to the laboratory; as Quinton’s helpmeet and fellow researcher, she approved of a field station so close to the house, but the bringing up of students would not be encouraged. Quin’s future, it seemed to her, lay more in some role like President of the Royal Society or head of an institute — it was surely a waste of time for such a man to spend time in teaching.

Next door, Lady Plackett heard the familiar bumps and thumps with satisfaction. Her daughter had made an excellent impression the night before and she herself, encouraged by the warmth of her welcome, had decided to stay for the duration of the field course so as to help in the preparations for Verena’s dance. As for Miss Somerville — whom she had heard spoken of as unsociable to a degree — her friendliness was now explained. If her nephew really was contemplating giving his home away, it would be very much in her interest to see him married, and to a girl who would not permit such folly.

At a quarter to eight precisely, Verena and Lady Plackett descended and were greeted with relief by their hostess. Neither of them wore fur coats or asked about central heating, and though Miss Somerville made a suitable enquiry about the night they had passed, she realized at once that it was superfluous.

‘Verena always sleeps well,’ said Lady Plackett, and Verena, with a calm smile, agreed.

Comely now arrived, and the old Labrador with a white muzzle, and they were permitted by Verena to wag their tails at least half a dozen times before being requested to ‘Sit!’ which they instantly did. Her credentials as a dog lover established, she moved over to the sideboard where she helped herself to bacon, sausages and scrambled eggs.

‘Verena never puts on weight,’ commented Lady Plackett fondly, and Miss Somerville saw that this might be so. ‘All the Croft-Ellises can eat as much as they wish without putting on an ounce.’

But as they progressed to toast and marmalade, it was natural to enquire about the Professor. ‘Has he breakfasted already?’ Verena asked.

‘Quin just has coffee over in his rooms. He’s gone to Bowmont Cove to fetch the dinghy.’

The Placketts exchanged glances. If Quin was going to keep himself to himself in the tower and creep off to the boathouse at dawn, it might be necessary for Verena to change her routine.

Since work on the first day was not due to begin until 9.30, the Placketts accepted an invitation to look round the rest of the house which, arriving late the previous afternoon, they had not yet explored. Politely admiring everything they saw, they had the added satisfaction of being able to make comparisons. In the library, Verena was able to point out that her Croft-Ellis uncle also owned a set of Bewick woodcuts which were, perhaps, a little more extensive, and in the morning room Lady Plackett was reminded of the petit-point stool covers which her grandmother had stitched when she first came to Rutland as a bride.

‘In no way better than these, dear Miss Somerville, though the Duchess asked if she could copy them.’

A tour of the grounds followed. Crossing the lawn and the bridge over the ha-ha, they passed the door of the walled garden and Miss Somerville asked if they would like to see it.

‘Ah yes,’ said Lady Plackett. ‘It’s well known, isn’t it? Of course we have a famous walled garden in Rutland too, as you probably know.’

Miss Somerville resisted the impulse to say that there was nowhere like her walled garden, and opened the door. She always wanted to put her finger to her lips when she did this, but Verena and Lady Plackett had already begun to admire, in loud, clear voices, the garden’s lay-out, though Verena was able to point out a spot of canker on the stem of a viburnum which she thought might interest Elke Sonderstrom.

But though she endeavoured to conceal it, Verena was growing restive.

‘I mustn’t be late for work,’ she said laughingly. The idea of Professor Somerville already mingling with the students was not attractive; she had particularly wanted to arrive in his company and make clear her special status as a house guest. ‘I’ll have to go and get my things.’

‘We’ll go in round the front,’ said Miss Somerville, never able to resist a little early-morning viewing through her binoculars.

Lady Plackett’s praise of the view from the sea terrace was warm enough to satisfy even Miss Somerville, but Verena, as she requested for a moment the loan of Miss Somerville’s binoculars, seemed for some reason to be displeased.