The Bluebeard Room (7 page)

“You’d better make it fast!”

A voice was already booming over the PA system that her train was about to depart.

“I’ll be seeing you in Cornwall, luv!”

Nancy’s heart danced. “In a word—
wonderful!”
She leaned out of the window and blew him a kiss as her train pulled out of the station.

The train ride to Penzance, which was the nearest station to Polpenny, lasted almost five hours but Nancy enjoyed it thoroughly. She thought she’d never seen a countryside so richly green; and it was somehow comforting to look at.

The train out of London had been crowded with travelers. On the last leg of the journey, however, Nancy found herself alone in the compartment with a tweedy, red-faced old gentleman with a bristly white military mustache and a smelly pipe. But she soon forgave him the pipe as a fair exchange for his interesting conversation.

“Ever been to Cornwall before, young lady?” he inquired with bluff, soldierly directness.

“No, are we close?” Nancy replied.

“That river we just crossed was the Tamar. To a
Cornishman, everyone from the other side of the Tamar, English or not, is a foreigner.”

“They sound rather clannish.”

The elderly gentleman chuckled. “One could say that. And the attitude’s not all one-sided, come to that. There was a time when tots in Devon were told that Cornishmen had tails!”

Nancy laughed appreciatively.

“I’m Colonel Tremayne, by the way. Retired.”

“And I’m Nancy Drew.”

“American, I take it, from your charming accent?”

“Yes, though opinions differ on our accent, I imagine! And are you Cornish, by any chance?”

“You guessed from my name, no doubt.”

“No, should I have?”

“You’ve not heard the old jingle, then:
By Lan, Ros, Car—Pol, Tre and Pen—ye may know the Cornishmen. . . . Tre
for Tremayne.”

Nancy smiled with pleasure. “I find
that
rather charming, Colonel! Thank you for telling me. But why
do
Cornishmen feel so different? Is it just because they live in the farthest west corner of Britain, on their own separate peninsula?”

“Partly that, I dare say. But people also forget that jolly old England’s actually a mixture of two hostile races.”

“What do you mean?”

“Celts and Anglo-Saxons. The movies, you know,
would have us believe that King Arthur and his knights spoke Oxford English, which is nonsense, of course. They were Romanized Celts who spoke old Welsh or Cornish when they weren’t talking Latin. The nearest thing to English-speakers in those days were their enemies, the Saxon barbarians from across the Channel. In the end, the two sides got together, but not before the Celts had been overrun and nearly pushed off their own island.”

Nancy stared dreamily out the coach window. “How I loved those old stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table!”

“So did we all, my dear. Some say they’re sleeping under a hill, ready to come out and fight again if Britain’s ever invaded.”

Nancy shivered. “What a thrilling superstition!”

“Perhaps not everyone in these parts would call it a superstition.”

“Are you serious?”

Colonel Tremayne shrugged and refilled his pipe gravely. “Let’s just say it’s a haunted land you’ve come to, Miss Drew, full of myths and legends.”

Nancy was silent a while, thinking of elf-darts and witches and the twin Golden Mab. “Is Cornwall really so ancient?” she asked presently.

“Oldest corner of Britain, my dear. There were Stone Age miners digging tin and copper hereabouts long before Athens and Rome were built. Phoenician traders came here and carried the ore to
the Mediterranean. Some say that’s why you’ll still see a good many dark-haired, hook-nosed Cornishmen.”

Nancy glimpsed rocky headlands and blue sea and picturesque fishing villages. At one point she did a startled double take. “Were those
palm trees
I just saw?”

Her companion smiled. “You’re on the Cornish Riviera now, my dear. Warming influence of the Gulf Stream. It’s another reason tourists flock here, not to mention artists and writers and other such layabouts.”

By the time she descended from the train at Penzance, Nancy was eager to see more of Cornwall. Lisa was waiting to greet her, and the two girls fell into each other’s arms.

“Oh, Nancy! You’re looking just beautiful!”

“So are you, Lisa.” But Nancy secretly crossed her fingers, unhappy at having to fib.

“No, I’m not. You needn’t worry about hurting my feelings, Nancy. I see myself in the mirror every morning. To tell the truth, I haven’t been feeling well these last few months, but now that you’re here, I’m sure I’ll perk up.”

“Oh, I hope so, Lisa dear!”

In the station parking lot they came to a huge, lemon-colored British roadster of 1920’s or 1930’s vintage, with a hood that looked about a mile long to Nancy.

“Good night! Is this your royal carriage?”

Lisa giggled. “It belonged to Hugh’s uncle, the old Lord Penvellyn from whom he inherited the castle. Uncle Nick was quite a lively old dog. I’m told he bought this dinosaur in his youth, before the Battle of Britain, and loved it so much he kept it in tip-top shape. Hugh considers it the best part of his inheritance!”

Lisa had the porter load Nancy’s luggage into the car, and moments later the two girls drove off. Nancy was thrilled as they whizzed along smoothly.

“Your husband’s right, Lisa. This car’s a gem! I wish Ned could see it!”

“Speaking of whom, how are things between you two, Nancy?”

“We’ve decided to date other people for a while.”

“Ah, so things are at that stage, are they? And do I gather you’ve already met someone new and interesting? or even fascinating?”

“Well . . .” Nancy smiled somewhat noncommittally. “Interesting, yes. And I guess most girls would call him fascinating, too, but I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about him just yet.”

Lisa threw her an understanding smile. “All right, we’ll save all that for a cozy chat later.”

“What about yourself—you and Hugh, I mean? Are you enjoying the state of holy matrimony?”

Nancy was shocked at the shadow that seemed to fall across her friend’s face.

“I love Hugh more than ever, Nancy,” Lisa replied in a voice that sounded slightly unsteady,
“but I’ll admit things haven’t been perfect since we settled in at Penvellyn Castle.”

“Can I help?” Nancy asked after a pause.

Lisa looked at her. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Nancy flushed, but decided the truth was preferable to deceit. “That’s not the only reason I’ve come, though. I did want to see you. But your mother was very worried and . . . well, all that seemed a good enough reason.”

“I thought so, and I’m glad you’ve come, Nancy . . . but I’m not sure what you or anyone can do.”

“Is there anything you’d care to tell me?”

Her friend shrugged unhappily. “It’s all so vague and . . . depressing, I hardly know how to answer that, Nancy. Hardly anyone in Polpenny will even speak to me. It’s as if they resent my coming to Penvellyn Castle. And Hugh seems terribly glum and weighed down, as though he’s carrying some dreadful secret. And I’ve been feeling rotten, and—oh dear, nothing seems to have gone right for us!”

Lisa’s voice quavered and her eyes glistened.

Nancy patted her hand. “All right . . . you can tell me all about it when we have that cozy chat.”

Penzance seemed a colorful, bustling summer resort. But once they were outside the town on the road to Polpenny, the landscape became rugged and stark, and Nancy began to glean a sense of Cornwall
as a remote peninsula jutting out into the wild Atlantic.

“I should probably be giving you the standard tourist lecture,” said Lisa.

“Never mind,” Nancy chuckled. “I’ve already had one from an old gentleman on the train.”

Polpenny actually lay beyond Penvellyn Castle, so Nancy had little chance to take it in before she was overwhelmed by the spectacle of the castle itself. The ancient, mossy stone pile stood on a rugged headland overlooking the sea, just as she had seen it in the photo, with the fishing village a mere cluster of roofs around the harbor at the foot of the grassy slopes of the cove.

“Well?” Lisa smiled as they parked in the courtyard and got out of the car. “How do you like it?”

Nancy stared up at the gray walls, wide-eyed. “I’m breathless!”

“We only live in one wing—oh, here comes Hugh!”

Nancy had met the present Lord Penvellyn at the time of his wedding to Lisa, soon after he inherited the title. Black-haired and in his late twenties, he was a tall, powerfully built young man with a strong jaw and thick dark brows that almost met over a fierce hawk nose. He had been a foreign correspondent, but since his marriage, he had been writing a book on international politics.

Nancy thought that, like Lisa, he looked drawn
and tired. His mood seemed almost somber, though he smiled cordially as he took her hand. “I’m so glad you’ve come, Nancy. I know how much Lisa’s been looking forward to your visit.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fun for both of us, Hugh!”

Nancy had time to rest and change for dinner, which was served in a high-ceilinged, paneled room, on a large refectory table. The long summer twilight had faded when they finally moved into the drawing room for coffee.

Hugh was telling Nancy about the progress of his book. “It’s coming rather slowly, I’m afraid. The world situation’s changing so fast th—”

He broke off as a scream suddenly rent the air from the courtyard outside!

Hugh leaped to his feet. “What the deuce was that?!”

“Someone’s been hurt!” cried Lisa.

The three ran from the drawing room into the great hall of the castle.

Landreth the butler and one of the maids came rushing into the small anteroom that lay between the great hall and the front door.

“What’s happened, Landreth?” Hugh inquired.

“I don’t know, m’luv. I’ll turn on the ground lights.”

The whole courtyard was brightly illumined as they stepped outside, but no one was in sight.

“Perhaps someone’s outside the gateway,” said the butler after peering around.

He and Hugh hurried to check. Moments later
they returned, supporting a woman between them. She looked close to sixty and was somewhat disheveled, with her broad-brimmed felt hat askew over one eye, but seemed otherwise unhurt.

“Why, it’s Ethel Bosinny!” gasped Lisa.

“A friend of yours?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, one of the few I’ve made in Polpenny! She’s a retired games-mistress from a girls’ school near here. She instructed the girls in sports there. A bit dotty, but she’s been a great comfort to me!”

When Miss Bosinny was seated in the drawing room and given a cup of tea, they learned that she had been bicycling up to the castle gateway when a startling figure loomed out of the darkness.

“Was it anyone you recognized?” Hugh asked.

“I—I really couldn’t say.” Ethel Bosinny gave a hoarse, embarrassed laugh. “Perhaps it was all my imagination. Anyhow, my bicycle went off the path and turned over, and I lay there stunned until you and Landreth came and helped me up.”

She said she had been coming to pay a neighborly call on the Penvellyns, and the village postmistress had asked her to deliver a letter to their young American visitor. Unfortunately, she had dropped it when her bike overturned. Landreth retrieved the bicycle, but neither he nor the maid could find the letter.

Miss Bosinny was much distressed. “Oh my! I’m dreadfully sorry, Miss Drew. I don’t know how I could have been so careless!”

“Never mind,” Nancy smiled. “I’m sure it’ll turn up. It was good of you to bring it.”

The next morning Lisa showed Nancy around the castle.

“The original stronghold was built by the Normans back in the twelfth century,” she explained. “Most of it has crumbled away, but the central keep has been preserved. Beginning in the 1500’s, wings were added, connecting the keep to other buildings inside the bailey, or outer wall. We’re living in the newest wing, which I’m told was built in 1650 or thereabouts.”

Nancy chuckled. “1650 is close enough for me. I must say, it’s withstood the centuries very well.”

“We’ve added a few modern conveniences, of course, like central heating and plumbing.”

Nancy was glad to hear her friend laugh. Her visit already seemed to have cheered Lisa up.

The older, unoccupied parts of the castle were now open to public tours. Much of the woodwork in these areas had long ago rotted away, and most of the furnishings, too, had decayed or been removed, leaving little behind but drafty, echoing stone ruins. But as the two friends strolled back to the central keep, Nancy was surprised to see one room shut off by a stout, iron-bound oak door.

“What’s in here?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

Lisa hesitated. Her cheeks seemed to have lost
color again. “Hugh keeps that room shut up. I’m not sure why, but he—he seems to feel quite strongly about it, so I respect his wishes.”

Nancy couldn’t help remembering the old fairytale about Bluebeard, who forbade his beautiful young wife ever to open a certain room in his castle. When she did and discovered its sinister secret—the heads of former wives he had murdered—she almost became another of his victims. Seeing her friend’s unhappy face, however, Nancy kept her thoughts to herself.

When the girls returned to the great hall of the castle, Lisa was ready for “elevenses,” the British version of a morning snack. Nancy was eager to see the village, but she couldn’t persuade Lisa to accompany her.

“You’ll enjoy it more by yourself, Nancy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve told you most of the villagers will hardly speak to me. I think they’re more apt to be friendly to you if they don’t see us together.”

Nancy set off downhill, preferring to stretch her legs rather than borrow Lisa’s bike. Polpenny was little more than a cluster of stone cottages, most of them whitewashed and thatch-roofed, circling the cove. All activity seemed to center on the cobbled high street around the harbor, but even that seemed none too busy. There were only two or three wooden docks. Most of the boats were simply
drawn up on the stony shingle which sloped down into the water. Coming to the small town hall, she decided to introduce herself to the local constable. “My name’s Nancy Drew.”