Love Conquers All Page 3

  Chapter Three

  Melvyn Waldour had been born in pleasant circumstances. His father, Sir Melvyn Waldour, was Lord of the Manor at Burscomb, a pretty little village a few miles from Salisbury in the county of Wiltshire. Although the family had fallen on hard times, compared to their ancestors, they still lived very comfortably in the manor house. Melvyn was an only child and so grew up with plenty of attention from a nanny, two servants and a gardener as well as his mother and father.

  The estate comprised the Manor House, stables and outhouses as well as one hundred and thirty acres of land. Many generations ago it had been an estate of several hundred acres with a staff of one hundred and fifty men and women. But succeeding generations had sold off land to pay off their various debts. Melvyn grew up a lonely child. His father had insisted that he was tutored at home until he was thirteen years old, when he went to Blundell School in Devon, to which four generations of Waldours had gone. The days were spent with the tutor and Melvyn proved an apt pupil. But he was happiest when he was alone in the woods, dressed in his old clothes and climbing trees and swinging from branch to branch. His greatest ambition was to be able to cross the river which meandered across the estate by rope and many times he returned home wet and muddy, cheerfully explaining that he hadn’t quite made it to the far bank but that he was getting nearer. He also loved horses and enjoyed racing headlong across the meadows, leaping any hedge or wall that he came to.

  He had a few friends but one of his favourites however was a girl named Mary. She was the daughter of the Estate Manager and she lived in a cottage at the end of the drive which led to the parkland surrounding the manor house. Mary was a slim, blonde haired girl, with a smile that lit up her face. She was two years younger than Melvyn but could hold her own when she wished and his position meant nothing to her at that age. Lady Waldour watched the friendship with amusement for she too liked the child.

  The Manor House was a large building with a drive that swept across its front and turned around a large fountain. In the summer, Melvyn and Mary were often seen playing in the pool around the fountain, their laughter echoing around the area and bringing smiles to the faces of any staff in the vicinity. The Elizabethan building was a picture with a central façade and two wings making it a hollow square. The door was of oak and on it was the brightest of bright door knobs, shining in the sunlight. Inside was a huge hallway with a beautiful staircase leading up to the bedrooms and bathrooms, all nicely furnished and decorated. Downstairs included the kitchen, a very large, old-fashioned room with a scullery attached, a breakfast room, a dining room and a splendid sitting room. The staff were accommodated in the wings where the rooms varied in size according to the status of the member of staff. In front of the house was a large patio and well cultivated gardens and at the back, one hundred yards away, stood the stable block, itself a handsome building. Originally, it had been built for a stud of twenty four horses but only contained six now. They were looked after by Joe, the stable lad who had been with the family for thirty years. It was he who had schooled Melvyn in the art of riding and turned a blind eye when the boy came a cropper at some fence which was too high for such a young boy. Joe and his wife Margaret lived in a cottage in the stable block and having no children of their own, worshipped Melvyn and it was to their home that Melvyn wandered when he was a little lonely. Margaret always welcomed him and made him sit down while she made him some cocoa and gave him biscuits.

  Melvyn, growing up with them as he did and mixing with the staff, never developed the attitude of master and servant and so was popular with them all. Occasionally father would lecture him on this very subject, pointing out as he did so that ‘familiarity breeds contempt’. Melvyn listened patiently but it meant nothing to him for he liked to be friendly with everyone and in any case, it would be many years before he would take over the estate.

  One day whilst out riding he went far beyond the estate and, to his dismay, his horse began to limp. Melvyn dismounted and examined the foot. It had a large stone wedged in the shoe. It would be painful for the horse if he rode it, light as he was, so he took the reins and walked. He had hardly gone half a mile when two youths appeared and began to mock him. Melvyn ignored them and so, thinking he was afraid the youths redoubled their efforts to make him act one way or another. The boys were a year or two older than Melvyn and both were bigger so that they had nothing to fear. The bigger boy stood in Melvyn’s path and spat at him. Melvyn slowly wiped away the spittle and quietly said, “Do you mind moving please?”

  The boys roared with laughter and jeered at him, mimicking his well-spoken voice. The smaller of the two threw a stone at the horse which reared up, almost lifting Melvyn off his feet. He ought to control it, finally quieting the animal and led it to the side of the road where it could crop the lush, green grass. Melvyn turned round. The two boys had followed him, laughing heartily. Without warning he hurled himself at the older boy, pummelling him in the face and stomach. The boy fell back with Melvyn on top of him, his howl of anguish cut off as a small fist flattened his nose. The boy squirmed madly to get free but Melvyn just hammered at him till he was yelling for mercy. The other boy, in the meantime had stood petrified and then had fled. Melvyn stood up and stepped back, his fists still clenched. But his opponent, coward that he was, dashed away, sobbing loudly.

  Melvyn stood for a moment till he had recovered from the assault. He shook his head in amazement, surprised at his reaction to the bullies. Wait till he told Joe the story, he would enjoy it. He wouldn’t tell father however, he would be disgusted at his son brawling in this way. He led his horse back home and regaled Joe with the story when he handed over the horse. Joe smiled with pride. “Well done young master. I’m right proud of you. You’d make a good soldier.”

  Melvyn was twelve now and had grown into a fine young boy. He still loved woodlands and the river and spent most of his spare time fishing or studying the flora and fauna of the estate. One summer day he was fishing in a deep part of the river, about half a mile from home when he saw his old friend Mary skipping along the river bank, following a boat which was sailing along. He watched her for a moment and returned to his fishing, hoping that she wouldn’t disturb the fish in that part of the river. Looking up again a little later he saw her lean over to take out her boat when she overbalanced and fell into the river. “Help! Help!” she shouted, and disappeared from view. Melvyn dropped his rod and tore along the bank. He saw her head appear and he threw himself into the water in her direction. A few strokes and he had reached her. He grabbed her, turned her over and swam with her to the bank. He dragged her onto the grass where she lay motionless. Melvyn looked despairingly at her. “Mary! Mary! Please don’t die,” he cried, “you’re my best friend. Please wake up.”

  There was a splutter and a sigh as Mary came to her senses. She looked up at Melvyn who was standing above her, his clothes, dripping wet, “Oh Melvyn. Thank you,” and she burst into tears, “you saved my life!” and cried even more.

  Melvyn was confused. “Girls,” he thought “why do they have to cry? Come on,” he said, “I must get you home.”

  He led her home, supporting her with his arm and it was like this that Mr Miller, her father saw them approaching. Sensing that all was not well, he ran to meet them and, hearing the story blurted out by Mary, he grasped Melvyn’s hand and rung it heartily. “Thanks boy. You saved my daughter from drowning. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  He carried Mary home, leaving Melvyn to enter the Manor, a bedraggled mess, not for the first time. This incident seemed to bring the two children much closer and they were often seen playing together and riding out.

  All too soon came the news that Melvyn had succeeded in gaining Common Entrance to his father’s old school, Blundells. Melvyn was pleased at the news because it meant that he would have plenty of friends and plenty of sport, at which he was good. Mary came along to see him off. At thirteen Melvyn was almost bashful in his farewell but Mary was quite composed and kissed
him on the cheek. “Goodbye Melvyn. I’m going to miss you,” she said and Melvyn blushed.

  “Goodbye Mary. I’ll see you in the hols,” he answered, and climbed into the gig which would take him to the station. Joe had insisted on driving him to get the train and as he left him he pushed forward a parcel. “That’s from the the missus,” he muttered, “she thought you might be hungry,” and turned away quickly. He knew that he too would miss the lad. He was like a son, he thought, as he picked up the reins and drove back home. Melvyn looked at the parcel and grinned. He wouldn’t be hungry, he knew that, for the parcel would contain Mrs Barnet’s home-made cakes and pies. Melvyn settled back in his seat to enjoy the journey.

  The train was passing through unfamiliar countryside and he watched, fascinated, at the heather-covered moor then the deep valleys of Devon. Two hours later the train stopped and a porter walked up the platform shouting “All change for Blundell School.!”

  Melvyn pulled down his case from the rack, picked up his parcel and stepped out onto the platform. He was surprised to see that he wasn’t alone. Several other boys of various sizes were walking along towards him. They were talking animatedly so he assumed that they were already going to the school. A tall boy stopped and looked at him, turning to make a sneering remark to his companions. Melvyn straightened up and looked him straight in the eye. The boy was about to speak and then thought better of it. He walked away with his pals laughing in such a way as to make it obvious that Melvyn was the subject of his laughter. While this was taking place, Melvyn had not noticed a tall, handsome youth approaching him. “Hello there, are you a Blundell’s new boy?” he asked. Admitting that he was, Melvyn took a last look at the first speaker. “Don’t worry about Buster. I’ll see that he keeps away from you. By the way, I’m Tom Kennedy, a prefect at the school and who are you?”

  “I’m Melvyn Waldour from Dorset”, he replied.

  “Ah yes, I’ve seen your family name on the Honours’ Board. Welcome to Blundells.” Melvyn liked Tom immediately and shared a taxi with him to the school. On arrival Tom took the new boy to meet the headmaster and then to his dormitory to meet the other new scholars.

  A new life had begun.

  --0--

  Melvyn soon settled down and found that his tutor had prepared him well for the school so that lessons were no hardship. He revelled in the sporting facilities and thoroughly enjoyed the different games. Tom Kennedy was also a sportsman and he encouraged the youngster to join in everything, including boxing.

  Melvyn soon began to grow and with it his weight improved till at fifteen he was a fine specimen of boyhood. It was then that he fell-foul of Buster once again. Buster was much bigger and heavier being two years’ older. But he had not been made a prefect. This rankled with him and he became the school bully, terrorizing the younger members of the school. Returning from the Rugby field one day he met Buster and his cronies at the gate. Buster immediately began to mock the boy, adopting a Dorset accent – which Melvyn didn’t have and spread himself across the path. With his friends beside him, Buster felt very secure, for Melvyn was alone.

  “Are you going to move Buster?” Melvyn said. “Or do I have to move you?”

  Buster gloated. “Why don’t you try it, little boy?”

  Melvyn didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward and hit the bully in the stomach with his right hand. Buster grunted and bent forward to ease the pain. Then Melvyn hit him hard on the chin with a second blow. Buster crumpled and lay spread-eagled on the ground. His friends gasped and then wilted as they thought he would turn against them.

  “Here, take him away,” he told them, rubbing his bleeding knuckles. “Tell him he knows where to find me if he wants me.” And he walked away. Melvyn had no more trouble from Buster and settled again into boarding school routine. He was a popular scholar, enjoying scholastic work and sports. He sent regular letters home, telling his parents all the school news. On Melvyn’s return his mother would send him parcels of confectionery and letters, giving details of what was going on - on the estate. He enjoyed reading these letters, for he loved the Manor House and gardens. He thought often of little Mary and wondered how she was.

  The years passed and he couldn’t believe that he had been away from home for three years. He had grown into a fine young man, a scholar and a gentleman. Finally, came the day for which he had waited. It was the day he had to travel to Cambridge to sit the entrance examination for Cambridge University. The examination was no trouble to him, he had been well prepared, but the wait to hear the result seemed to be endless. When the news came through to him by telegram, he opened it with shaking fingers. He need not have worried, he had passed with flying colours. This meant that he could pack his belongings and go home. Melvyn went home that year for a long vacation. It was a pleasant change to get away from school to the peace and quietness of Dorset. Joe met him at the station, a look of delight on his fact. “Me missus can’t wait to see you,” he said.

  Joe talked on but was quite quiet when Melvyn asked about the horses. Joe told him that he had only two left now and was very worried about his job. Melvyn listened and realized that things obviously were not improving. He felt sure, however, that father would never sack Joe or make him leave the house – he was almost part of the family.

  Entering the Estate grounds Melvyn saw a young girl in the distance. In one glance he saw a lovely, sunburned face and beautiful hair. She walked towards him with an easy step and he thought he had never seen such an attractive girl. Musing thus, he asked Joe who the girl was and Joe turned to see if he was joking. Then realizing that Melvyn had not recognized the girl, he said, “Why that’s your little Mary – as pretty as a picture she is. She’s going to be a beauty.”

  Melvyn sat up straight. Little pig-tailed Mary. Well, well, he thought, I wonder if she will recognize me. She too must have finished boarding school.

  “Stop the gig Joe,” demanded Melvyn, “I must speak to her.” Joe stopped the horse and watched Melvyn dismount. Mary reached the boy and was about to pass, turning her head away, when he spoke. “Hello Mary. Have you missed me?”

  Mary stopped as if shot. Slowly she turned, her lips parting to show her lovely, white teeth. “Surely, surely you’re not Melvyn?” she stammered, “I didn’t recognize you, you’ve grown so tall,” she stopped before she could say “handsome”.

  Melvyn smiled and put out his hand. “Hello Mary. I’m delighted to see you again. Are you staying long?” he inquired.

  “Yes, I’m staying the whole holiday and then I’m going to college,” replied Mary.

  “Good, I’m here for eight weeks and then I’m off to University. Will I see you? We could go to the river.” he added with a grin.

  She smiled. “I haven’t forgotten that Melvyn, I never will. Yes, I’ll look out for you but you won’t have to save me again, I can swim now.”

  They parted, Mary to her little house and Melvyn to the Manor. “You go on Joe, I’ll walk the rest of the way. It’ll do me good and I want to see everything again.” Melvyn walked slowly up the drive to the house. His young eyes took in everything. He noticed that the gardens weren’t as well tended as they used to be and the house – he paused to look, for he loved this old building – it could do with a coat of paint. Father was getting careless in his old age. Melvyn would have to speak to him about it.

  He had nearly reached the great oaken door when it opened and his mother stood there, she had been waiting for him since Joe had dropped off his suitcase. Melvyn stopped and looked gravely at his mother. She looked pale he thought, then he stepped forward and took her in his arms. He kissed her.

  “Hello mother dear. How pleased I am to see you. It’s so nice to be back.”

  “Come in Melvyn,” said his mother, looking up at him with a smile, “you look wonderful. Welcome home.”

  Melvyn was determined to enjoy his last holiday before going up to Cambridge University. Joe was delighted to see him when he went to the stables and personally saddled and groom
ed the horse when Melvyn chose to go riding. The young man called to see Mary and was welcomed by her parents. But Mary, although greeting him with a smile, was rather cool. She was now old enough to realize that he was the master’s son, heir to the estate and she was just the daughter of an employee. Melvyn was non-plussed at the attitude of his old friend and after a cup of tea and a chat he left. His host and hostess enthused about him after his departure but Mary just smiled and admitted that he had grown up. The parents smiled at each other as Mary left for her own room.

  It was a few days later, while walking in the woods that he came face to face with Mary. Melvyn stopped and hesitantly spoke to her. It seemed to be different to the old days. He found himself blushing as he looked at her for she was indeed attractive and at a boys’ school one didn’t learn how to talk to attractive young girls – to any girl for that matter. Mary felt her heart quicken when she saw him appear but showed no sign of it on her face.

  “Hello Mary, it’s a nice day isn’t it?” he said, looking past her.

  “Marvellous,” replied Mary, studying him covertly. There was a long pause, both feeling self-conscious, then they looked at each other and burst into laughter. “Race you to the river,” said Mary and off she went without waiting for an answer.

  Melvyn grinned, let out a yell and followed her. He caught up with her at the river’s edge and picked her up in his strong arms, both shrieking with laughter. Suddenly he put her down and looked at her. There was an uncomfortable pause and he said, “Sorry Mary. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re not a kid anymore.”

  Mary was blushing and her breast was heaving – she didn’t know whether it was the race or something else.

  “It’s alright Melvyn; it was just a bit of fun. I suppose you pick up all the girls that way.”

  He spluttered, “I don’t. I mean – I don’t know any girls. If I did I wouldn’t pick them up like that. No. I mean you’re different, oh!”

  Mary had recovered her composure and was enjoying the discomfort of this young man. “Come, come. A tall, handsome, young man of your age must have lots of girlfriends,” teased Mary. Melvyn looked at her. He couldn’t cope with her any longer. He thought he did much better when she was a long-legged, pig-tailed, young girl.

  “Mary, you must believe me. You are the only girl I know,” adding gallantly, “you are very attractive now. I hope we will remain friends.” They once again looked at each other and laughed and started talking as if they were twelve years old again.

  “Do you remember when you knocked my front tooth out Mary? Thank heavens it was my first set.” He grinned at her.

  “What about the day you cut some of my hair off?” demanded Mary.

  Melvyn grinned. “Yes I remember that day. I wanted to take it for a keepsake. Didn’t I get into trouble when father heard about it?”

  They walked back to her house, oblivious to the glances of other people and to the passage of time. He left her quite reluctantly, knowing in his heart that they were just as close now as they ever were. He whistled as he made his way home and mother wondered what had put the sparkle in his eyes.

  Melvyn called on Mary frequently and often Joe saddled up the two horses, one for each of them. He smiled to himself as he watched them ride off together across the estate. Both riders enjoyed these gallops and the horses, sensing their enjoyment, galloped along, their manes flying, their foam flecked mouths champing at their bits. They usually made for the river, where they dismounted to allow the horses to drink, they themselves chatting and laughing.

  The eight weeks seemed to fly over and both of them dreaded the end of this wonderful holiday. Even the weather had been kind to them. On the last day of the holiday they decided to have one more gallop for they knew that once away from the estate they would be working too hard to pursue such sport. They cantered along and then with a wave of his hand, Melvyn galloped off with Mary in hot pursuit. He reached the rendezvous first and slid lightly from the saddle. Mary arrived, her hair streaming in the wind and her face glowing from the exertion. Melvyn walked over to her and, putting up his hands, lifted her down, but still held her. She looked up at him, remaining still. He looked down at her for a moment and then slowly, ever so slowly, bent forward and kissed her. Mary didn’t move. Melvyn straightened up and broke the silence.

  “Sorry Mary, I just couldn’t help it. Please don’t be offended. I won’t do it again.”

  He was shocked at his audacity. It had been done quite involuntarily and now he dreaded the result. Mary dropped her eyes. The kiss had taken her by surprise. She had never been kissed before and certainly hadn’t expected it from Melvyn. She looked at him and she knew at a glance that he was ashamed of himself. Poor boy, what can I say to reassure him? The answer suddenly came and she reached up, pulled down his head and kissed him, and then released him.

  “Oh Mary,” he blurted out, “you’re wonderful. Why must I go away and leave you?” Mary smiled and noted that he still held her in his arms.

  “We both have to go Melvyn and we’re too young to be anything but friends but I will remember you all the time.”

  Melvyn kissed her again and she let him do so and a feeling of warmth swept over her whole body.

  “May I write to you Mary?”

  “Of course you can, I’ll let your mother have my address as soon as I settle in.”

  They rode back in silence, each one busy with their own thoughts. When they dismounted at the stables and handed in the horses to Joe, he looked at each one in turn and then began to unsaddle the horses to groom them. Afterwards he confided in his wife that he felt that something had happened on the ride for the two youngsters seemed so happy. She smiled back at him for she had been watching them on their escapades and knew that the young girl had completely bewitched Melvyn. How long will it last she wondered?

  Melvyn rose early on the Saturday morning. His trunk was already packed but he wanted to say a few farewells before he left for Cambridge. He would see Joe at the station but he had to go to see Joe’s wife. He smiled to himself for he knew that she would have been baking the night before and that as he left she would push into his hands a large parcel of home-cooked dainties. He couldn’t refuse her for she would be upset and Melvyn was too good-natured to hurt anyone. He breakfasted alone with his mother. Father had caught an early train up to London on estate business, Melvyn didn’t mind this at all as he had always been much closer to his mother than to his father. They talked little, then Melvyn broke the silence by asking his mother how things were going on the estate, pointing out that a lot of things appeared to need repairing and smartening up. His mother looked at him for a moment and then pushing her cup away, told him what he had already suspected. The estate was not doing well. Father seemed to have lost interest but she hastened to add that she thought it was only a temporary phase that he was going through and they were still able to get along.

  “Should I stay at home and help mother? I really don’t mind if I don’t go to Cambridge,” he said, and he meant it.

  “Oh no Melvyn. That would finish father. You know fine well that every generation of Waldours have sent someone to Cambridge University for three hundred years. It would be a tragedy if you didn’t go. We’re not that hard up.” She smiled and kissed his forehead as she went past him, taking away the dishes.

  Joe came round with the gig an hour later by which time Melvyn had said goodbye to the staff. He deliberately kept away from the estate agents as he did not want to meet Mary. He had said farewell to her last night and that was enough. They drove along the road and as they passed the Miller cottage he saw Mary in the garden and waved. She stood still, put up her hand and remained there till the gig was out of sight. She entered the house watched by her mother who had seen the whole episode.

  “He’s a fine boy is Melvyn and he’s fallen for you, our Mary. Is he yours now? He’s a fine catch for you!” her mother exclaimed looking at her daughter.

  “Don’t be ridiculous Mother. I’m
only seventeen and he’s nineteen. We’ve got better things to do.” And with a toss of her head flounced outside. Her mother watched her with a smile on her lips. She must cultivate this for she could see that Mary too had been smitten, seventeen or not.

  Mary walked quickly along the drive, furious at herself for showing her emotions to her mother. Why had he had to go today? She had a week left with nothing to do but think of him?

  She walked to the stables. Perhaps Joe would let her have a horse to ride when he returned from the station. Here she met his wife Margaret whom she liked. “Come inside Mary, Joe will be half an hour yet. We’ve time for a cup of tea and a ladies’ chat” invited Margaret.

  Mary entered the little cottage where she felt quite at home. Margaret busied herself with the teapot. “You’ll have no company today lass,” she said, “I suppose you know that Melvyn went off this morning. Of course you will.”

  She watched Mary’s face while pretending to be making the tea and she saw her blush.

  “Yes, I knew that he was going away. I managed without him before, I’ll be alright.” Mary snapped.

  “Of course you will dear, you can take care of yourself. You don’t need boys at your age.” agreed Margaret.

  Mary dropped her head, she didn’t know whether to agree or to remind Margaret that she was seventeen now. She was no longer a young girl. She remained quiet and just drank her tea. They chatted for a while about mundane subjects and about Mary’s acceptance for college. Mary told her of her love of children and her wish to be a teacher. Margaret liked Mary, she had watched her grow up into a young woman and hoped that she would keep up her friendship with Melvyn. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mary who suddenly burst out with, “Mrs Kennedy do you think that Melvyn will write to me? He said he would.”

  Mrs Kennedy turned to her with a smile. “If Melvyn said he would write then he will. He’s a fine young gentleman my girl and I’ll tell you this (winking), I think he’s fallen in love with you.”

  “How can you say that Mrs Kennedy? He’s not your son.”

  “He’s like a son to me Mary, so I know him well. I’ve watched him lass and I’ve seen him this last week mooching about like a love-lost-lorn. It’s amazing what we girls can do with these men.” And Margaret Kennedy laughed. “Take care of him lass, he’s worth it and he’s lucky to have such a fine girl as you.”

  Mary got up, threw her arms about Mrs Kennedy and kissed her rough cheeks. “Thank you! Thank you! I won’t wait for Joe – I’ll go for a walk.” She left with her head in the air and a smile on her lips. Seventeen is a lovely age, she thought.

  The rest of the week passed uneventfully and she was quite happy when Saturday came and her father delivered her to the station to go to Bristol. Another chapter in the book of life had begun.