Voices in a Haunted Room

Voices in a Haunted Room

THE NEXT MORNING MY mother sent one of the grooms over to Grasslands to ask for the key of Enderby, as a prospective buyer, who was staying at Eversleigh, wished to look over it during the afternoon.

The groom came back with a message from the manager to the effect that Mrs. Trent and her grand-daughters had gone into the town and would not be back until later that morning. As he did not know where the key was he could not send it, but if we would be at Enderby at three that afternoon he would make sure that someone came to us with the key.

That was very satisfactory, said my mother.

Enderby was no more than ten minutes’ walk across country from Eversleigh, and Sophie said she would be quite happy to walk the distance; and she and Jeanne came along, with me to show them the way.

I said: “It is a big house and it will be dark soon after four, which leaves us about an hour to look round. But that will be enough for you to get an idea whether you want to think seriously about it. If you did, we could keep the key and you could browse there all through the next day. You might decide immediately that it is quite hopeless.”

“Everyone seems determined that we shall think that,” said Sophie. “But we shall make up our own minds, shan’t we, Jeanne?”

Jeanne said that that was what Mademoiselle usually did.

“Well, I shall not say a word—for or against,” I promised.

An early November afternoon was certainly not the best time to see Enderby. There was the faintest of mists in the air and little globules of moisture clung like crystal beads to the spiders’ webs festooned in large numbers on the overgrown bushes.

The house rose before us, grey, grim and ghostly, I thought. I glanced sideways at Sophie.

She was staring at it, but as her hood hid the side of her face from me, I could not tell whether she was experiencing pleasure or revulsion.

Then Mrs. Trent emerged from among the bushes; she was smiling and holding the key.

“Oh there you are Miss er… Oh it’s Mrs. now. Have to get used to that. No longer Mademoiselle de Tourville, but Mrs. Frenshaw.”

“That’s so. Thanks for bringing the key.”

Her grand-daughters came from round the side of the house.

“Good afternoon,” I said.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Frenshaw,” said the girls.

Dorothy—Dolly—was looking at Sophie as though fascinated, and I saw that Sophie had noticed her too. There would be a fellow feeling because of their disfigurement, I guessed.

“This is the lady who is interested in the house, Mrs. Trent,” I said. “She does not speak much English. She is my mother’s half sister.”

“My word! Is she now! I’ll open the door for you. When these keys are not used often, they get hard to turn. Ah, there we are!”

The door was opened and we were in the hall. Sophie looked at Jeanne and gave a little gasp.

I stepped in with them. I had expected the Trents to go but they came in with us.

“My goodness,” said Mrs. Trent. “I’d forgotten how grand it was. Although I’ve got the key I never come in. That’s the gallery where the musicians play. We’ve heard a lot about that gallery, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” I said, and added rather pointedly: “Thank you, Mrs. Trent, it was good of you to bring the key.”

“Oh, that’s nothing. I like to have a look round myself. The girls know quite a lot about it, don’t you, girls? They’ve always been interested in this house.”

“It’s the sort of house you can be interested in,” said Evie.

I noticed again how pretty she was with her fair curling hair and dark-lashed blue eyes. She was a real beauty—or perhaps one thought so in contrast to her sister. Poor little Dolly! Her sad face fitted the house.

“It’s more exciting than Grasslands,” went on Evie.

“Oh, is it, Miss? That’s a nice way to talk about your home. I’ll take Grasslands any day. At least we haven’t got ghosts springing out round every corner.”

I wondered what the owners would think of Mrs. Trent as a custodian of their property. She was certainly not going to encourage buyers with such talk.

I said with light reproof: “It is fortunate that Mademoiselle d’Aubigné cannot understand you or she would be deterred from considering the house.”

Mrs. Trent clapped her hands over her mouth. “My big tongue! It always was a bit of a clacker.”

Evie looked embarrassed and I noticed that Dolly watched her sister all the time as though she felt insecure without her.

“There is some furniture in the place,” went on Mrs. Trent, by no means abashed. “Some of it’s supposed to be quite good. It goes with the house. Mind you, a bit of renovation would be needed.”

I walked away from her, following Jeanne and Sophie to the staircase.

“Do you want to see the rest?” I asked.

“But of course,” replied Sophie.

“There’s a loose board on the first floor,” called out Mrs. Trent. “Evie… you know where. Go up and show them.”

Evie followed Sophie and Jeanne up the staircase and Dolly went with her.

I was looking about the hall. I thought I would allow them to look round on their own and I hoped that Evie would go when she had shown them the loose board.

“The stairs are a bit much for me,” explained Mrs. Trent. She came close to me. “What do you think of my Evie?”

“She’s very attractive.”

Mrs. Trent beamed. “She is. None could deny it. I’d like her to do well for herself.” She spoke a little wistfully. “It’s not easy. People have never taken to me in these parts. They never forget. Oh, I’ve been invited here and there now and again. But it’s not the same. I want my Evie to do well. I’d like to see her mistress of some grand house… with looks like that.”

I thought that perhaps in the right environment, which meant away from her grandmother, Evie might be very attractive.

“Well, there is time to go yet,” I said.

“I wouldn’t say that. She’s sixteen, coming up to seventeen, much of a muchness with yourself. No hesitation about you. It was going to be one of them, wasn’t it? And I don’t suppose it mattered which one. They’ve both got a tidy bit coming to them.”

She really was an impossible woman.

Evie appeared at the head of the stairs.

“Did you show them the loose board?”

“Yes, Grandmamma. And I told them where they must look for others.”

“There’s a lot wants doing to this house. Where’s Dolly?”

“She was talking to the lady with the hood.”

“Can they understand each other?”

“Not very well.”

“I’ll go and see how they are getting on,” I said.

I went up the stairs, leaving Mrs. Trent and Evie in the hall. Why didn’t the woman see that she was intruding? She was ignorant and ill-bred. I wanted to tell her that she would have little hope of catching a husband for her grand-daughter if she behaved with such crudity. I found Sophie with Jeanne on the first floor.

They were going through the bedrooms there.

“They are spacious,” Jeanne was saying, “and could be made attractive.”

Sophie replied: “Such a lot would have to be done.”

“You would enjoy doing it,” Jeanne told her.

They mounted the stairs with Dolly in their wake. I felt an urge to look at the rooms. I went into the main bedroom. There was a high four-poster bed there. I touched the curtains and they almost disintegrated in my hands, so old were they, but the wood of the bed was very solid and beautifully carved; and the court cupboard on the other side of the room would look very fine if polished. Yes, it was true, there was a great deal of good furniture in the place and going with the house.

But of course Sophie could not be seriously thinking of taking it. It was too large really… just for her and Jeanne. This was a house which needed people—lots of them—a jolly family, parties at Christmas and such times, dancing in the hall.

I went along to the smaller bedroom where I had once fancied I heard a voice. I stood in the centre of the room. There was a four-poster there, smaller than the other, more modern, and the curtains about it were quite good—heavy blue velvet; but they were very dusty and there were cobwebs in the room.

A ghostly room, I thought. But that was because I had fancied I heard a voice here.

Then I heard it again. The same hollow voice. It said: “You’re being watched, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

I stared up at the ceiling, at the walls; I stood, bewildered, looking about me.

“Who’s there?” I cried sharply.

Silence, and then clearly I heard the quick intake of breath, the low laugh… horrible laughter. Someone was jeering at me.

I went to the door. There was no one in the corridor.

I was shaking. Why should I imagine I could hear voices in this room? There was no one here. I must have imagined it and yet I could have sworn…

Dolly was coming down the stairs.

“Is Mademoiselle still up there?” I asked.

“Yes. They like it.”

“No,” I replied. “They are just interested.”

She shook her head. “They do like it. It suits the lady. It’s what she wants.”

“She won’t make a hasty decision.”

I had stepped back into the room and Dolly had followed me. I had a good opportunity of studying her. The drawn-down eye gave her an evil look at times—and yet the rest of her was so dainty, fragile even. Her good eye was large, blue and heavily lashed; her nose was delicate and well shaped. But for the deformity she would have been a beauty like her sister.

“Do you like this room, Mrs. Frenshaw?” she asked.

“No. I don’t think I like any of the house.”

“I like this house,” she said almost rapturously. She stood in the middle of the room and looked up at the ceiling.

Then I heard it again, the quick intake of breath and the low, quiet, sneering laughter.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Dolly was staring blankly at me.

“Didn’t you hear something, someone close… laughing?”

Dolly looked at me oddly. “I didn’t hear anyone,” she said.

“But—it was quite distinct.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything,” she repeated. “There are echoes in old houses. Besides, who could there be? There’s no one here.”

I went to the door and looked out. I felt I did not want to stay in that haunted room with the strange girl.

I hurried up to the next floor. Sophie and Jeanne were in close conversation.

Jeanne was saying what could be done, how they would furnish it. How they would use the space.

It can’t be true, I thought. Sophie is seriously considering Enderby.

On our walk back to Eversleigh Sophie was very quiet. Of course, I was telling myself, she is not really serious. There was something quite fascinating about looking at houses and considering them as potential homes; and I had to remember that Sophie had just come through a shattering experience. It must seem very exciting to her to be safe, to be in a position to consider making a home for herself in a new country.

My mother was waiting for us when we returned and Dickon was with her.

She said: “I was hoping you would come in before it was dark. How did you get on?”

“The Trents were there with the key—grandmother and two grand-daughters.”

“And what did you think of Enderby, Sophie?”

Sophie clasped her hands together and half closed her eyes. “I found it very… interesting.”

“Oh, it’s that all right. None would deny it, but… as a home…”

Sophie looked at Jeanne, who said: “Mademoiselle Sophie wants to see it again tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said my mother, “so you weren’t completely put off.”

Sophie shook her head emphatically.

“So you will go tomorrow,” went on my mother. “Will you go with them, Claudine?”

“It is not necessary,” said Sophie. “We know our way now and we have the key.”

“I’d like to come… unless you want to go alone, Aunt Sophie.”

She smiled at me. “Come with us then… but you mustn’t try to dissuade me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you can’t seriously…”

Sophie turned to Dickon. “I should like to talk to you about getting the money.”

“I shall be going to London early tomorrow,” said Dickon, “so perhaps you could talk to me right away.”

“I’ll come to your room.”

He said: “I’ll see you shortly, Lottie. Don’t forget we are leaving at dawn tomorrow…”

My mother nodded and Dickon went off with Sophie, Jeanne following.

My mother looked at me in amazement. “She’s surely not thinking of buying that house!”

“She seemed rather taken with it. It is a fascinating place. In a way she somehow seems to fit into it.”

“Yes. I see what you mean. I hope she won’t take it and live there like a hermit.”

“Could she buy it?”

“Many times over, I imagine. Dickon has seen the jewellery they brought with them. It really is fantastic. The Count was a very rich man, one of the richest in France, and I imagine his first wife brought more wealth into the family. The jewels are priceless, so Dickon says, and there won’t be any difficulty in disposing of them. Of course other émigrés are trying to sell what they have salvaged, but I should imagine few have such a collection as that which Sophie has brought with her. Jeanne had been hiding them for quite a long time. She is a farsighted woman; moreover her visits to the town and her chats with people must have given her a clearer view of what was coming than that of the people in the château. Sophie, most certainly, would be able to buy the house and live there independent of us all, as far as finances are concerned. She is delighted because although she is very welcome here, she wants to be on her own, and I understand that. She doesn’t want to be dependent on Dickon’s charity. Dickon says that Enderby is about one of the biggest bargains one could find anywhere in the country. It has stood empty for so long and it has that ghostly reputation. A great deal would have to be done, of course, but it is still a bargain. I believe certain furniture has been left there. Some of it is so big that it would be difficult to move it. It must have been made on the premises. Whether that’s true, I don’t know; but I believe some of it has been there almost as long as the house.”

“Imagine Sophie and Jeanne alone in that house. They would have servants though… and perhaps guests to stay.”

“What guests! Can you imagine Sophie entertaining? Oh, Claudine, I hope she doesn’t take it. I’ve never liked the house. I hoped it would crumble away… that the roof and the walls would fall in and birds would rest there and the rats and mice take over the last stages of destruction.”

“Oh, Maman, how can you condemn it to such a fate? It is a house, after all. I know it’s haunted. I would never be happy living there, but to condemn it to destruction… it’s like condemning a person.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I think we are both talking a lot of nonsense… How long will you be in London?”

“As long as Dickon’s work keeps him there.”

“His work… in the bank?”

“I expect sometimes in the bank.”

“What has that to do with the death of the Queen of France?”

“These things affect finance. There is a great deal involved.”

“And Dickon is involved… and I suspect in many things.”

“Dickon,” she said with a little laugh, “has a finger in many pies.”

“Secret pies… secret even from you, Maman?”

“If they were secret he couldn’t tell even me, could he? And I could not ask him to.”

“It is all so mysterious! I know that Dickon is a big landowner and banker and is mixed up with politics in a way about which we are not supposed to enquire. But when you think of the way in which he got you out of France… well, he must have many contacts there.”

She smiled at me. “I should thank God for it, Claudine. If it had not been so, I should not be here at this moment.”

I threw my arms about her. “I thank God for it too, dearest Maman. I can’t bear to think of it. A world without you! Always be here!”

“Always here to do what I can for you, my love.”

I drew away from her; her smile was tremulous.

She said: “Then, Claudine, let us be thankful for what is and not probe into matters which we are not meant to know. I must go now. I want to make sure they are packing the right things.”

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head.

When she left me I went out into the gardens. Whenever I thought of how near my mother had come to death, I was so filled with emotion and terror that I had to be alone, to reassure myself that it was over. It’s finished, I would tell myself. She is safe. We shall never let her risk her life again. Dickon would never allow it. I was thankful for Dickon—my powerful stepfather who loved her with an unswerving devotion; he would always take care of her, and because no one could get the better of him, she would be safe while he was there to protect her.

The damp November air cooled my cheeks. It was dark now. I should be glad when the nights began to draw out, which would not be until after Christmas. My thoughts went back to Enderby, that strange house, and the voices I had heard. What was the meaning of that? Some would say I was imagining I heard voices simply because Enderby was the sort of house where one would expect to. I knew about my grandmother Zipporah, who had loved the Count in this very house, and where it was almost certain my mother had been conceived. The house had played a big part in our family history, perhaps that was why it had such an effect on me. My grandmother had fallen in love, broken her marriage vows and taken her first steps towards a violent death in a square in a French town—and it had all begun at Enderby.

But the voices? I heard them on two occasions. Were they in my mind? That girl had said she heard nothing. But she seemed a little vacant, and the laughter had been low. I hoped Sophie would decide against the house and find somewhere else. Then I should never go near it again.

I must go in. It would soon be time to change for dinner. I wondered whether Sophie would join us. I expected she would as she would want to talk about the house. On the other hand she might prefer to talk about it alone with Jeanne. Perhaps she would change her mind in the morning. Would Enderby look any less sinister in the morning light? But the aspect of houses—as that of people—was not always seen in the same light by everyone. Beauty to some was not necessarily beauty to others; the same with evil; and what might arouse in some a desire to escape from it, might be irresistibly fascinating to others.

As I passed the shrubbery, a voice said: “Claudine!” and a hand seized me and pulled me into the shadow of the bushes.

“Jonathan!”

“I saw you leave the house,” he said.

“Well, what do you want?”

“What do I want? That’s an unnecessary question, isn’t it? You know what I want. What have I always wanted? Why did you do it, Claudine? Why did you do it?”

He was holding me in a firm grip from which I could not escape. He drew me farther into the shrubbery.

“Let me go, Jonathan. I have to get back to the house.”

“You’ll talk to me first.”

“What about?”

“About everything… this situation into which you have thrust me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

His mouth was on mine. No, I thought. I must get away. I am afraid of him.

“You married my brother.”

“Is that surprising? It was expected, and besides, I wanted to.”

“You wanted me.”

“No. You asked me, remember, and I refused.”

“It was not meant to be a refusal.”

“I am in the habit of saying what I mean.”

“Not always,” he contradicted. “Do you think I don’t know? You are shaking now.”

“Because you are behaving in a ridiculous manner. I don’t like it and I want to go in.”

“There speaks the virtuous matron.”

“That is what I am and what I intend to remain.”

“Do you really believe you will?”

“Jonathan, I am going in!”

“Not yet. Why did you marry my brother? Why did you do this?”

“Because I love him and wanted him for my husband.”

“You love him! What do you know of love?”

“A great deal more than you do, I imagine.”

“There are many sides to love, Claudine. You need all of them. My brother knows more about the Greek philosophers than of love.”

“I believe they professed to know a great deal about it.”

He laughed suddenly. “Claudine,” he said. “I don’t give up, you know.”

I shrugged my shoulders; he caught them in his hands and shook me.

“Do you think I’ll let you go because of a mere marriage?”

“The adjective is most inappropriate. You are letting alliteration run away with common sense.”

He laughed and said: “Claudine, it’s good to be with you. What I wanted more than anything during those hideous months was to be with you. When I was lying in the grass at night with the stars overhead and the knowledge that the next day could be my last, I thought of you there with me, talking to me, making me laugh, and… making love together, Claudine.”

“And with the girl in the wine shop?”

“Ah, you remember her! I saw your eyes glint when I was telling you about her. I knew what you were thinking. I was only able to tolerate her because in my thoughts I substituted you for her. That’s how I feel about you. You are my Claudine. You always were since the day you came to Eversleigh… with your French clothes and your French manners and your amusing way with our language. I loved you even then. And now you are a respectable English matron, I love you even more. It grows every day and you cannot expect me to stand aside and say, ‘It is over. She is now the wife of my brother. Adieu, sweet Claudine, you are not for me.’ You are for me, Claudine. You are… and nobody is going to stop us.”

“It takes two to come to such a decision.”

“And when two are of the same mind it is inevitable.”

“If they were, I suppose it would be. But in this case they most decidedly are not. I think you are despicable to make these suggestions to your brother’s wife. How dare you talk about making love… if you call that diatribe love.”

“It is not making love. It is the prelude to making love. If we can’t make love within the sanctity of the church, we will do so outside it.”

“What if I were to tell my mother what you have said to me tonight?”

“She would tell my father.”

“He would be furious with you.”

“On the other hand he would merely laugh. He would say, ‘Let them work it out among themselves.’ My father is very wise and experienced in these matters.”

“And David… what if I were to tell him?”

“Ah, David, what would he say? There is bound to be a precedent for such an occurrence among the Greeks, the Romans, or the ancient Egyptians. He would consult his oracles and they would tell him what should be done.”

“Jonathan, you must forget all this. Marry. Settle down. You are more often in London than here.”

“I shall be where you are.”

“You did not think that when you lightheartedly joined the expedition to France, and just left without telling us.”

He drew me to him and held me against him. “I had to go, Claudine. It was very necessary that I go. And I had to go secretly.”

“Without telling your father even! You just walked out.”

“My father knew.”

“But he was surprised.”

“Things are not always what they seem,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, and I thought: It is the secret matters in which they are involved… Jonathan with his father. They combine spying for their country with their business affairs. Jonathan is with his father in this. I am glad David is outside it.

“Tomorrow I leave for London,” he said.

“So you are going with your father and my mother?”

He nodded.

“Secret business?” I asked.

He did not answer. “I shall be back soon,” he said, “and then…”

“Nothing will have changed here.”

“It doesn’t need to. It will be as it is now.”

“Then…”

“You want me as I want you, and I shall see that something is done about it.”

For a few seconds he held me pressed against him; he kissed me fervently on my lips and throat. I allowed myself to stay with him… just for those few seconds. I knew he was right. I had never been aware of this ecstatic emotion with David.

Then I wrenched myself away and hurried into the house. He did not follow me, but I heard his low, triumphant laughter behind me.

As soon as it was light next morning, Dickon, my mother and Jonathan left for London.

Jeanne came to my room and said that she and Sophie were going to see the house again and she wondered whether I meant I should like to accompany them.

I said I should like to and within half an hour we were walking round by the road to Enderby. It was a little longer that way, but there had been a heavy downpour and it was too wet to go across the fields as we had on the previous day.

The house looked different again in the morning light. What a strange place it was! I had to admit that in spite of the fact that it appeared menacing, it attracted me, and I was as eager to open the door and go inside as the other two were.

Sophie said: “What I like about it is that it is apart. One would not feel overlooked here.”

No, I thought, except by ghosts and spirits.

We were in the hall and the atmosphere closed round me. It was like tentacles drawing me in and holding me fast.

“This hall is really quite magnificent,” I said. “Do you propose to hold dances here, Aunt Sophie? I can picture it with the minstrels playing in the gallery.”

“No. I don’t propose to entertain a great deal. But I like the hall, all the same. There is a sense of grandeur and yet it is simple in a way.”

Simple? Yes, I supposed it was, compared with the château in which she had spent her childhood.

“Think of all the bedrooms,” I said. “There are twenty of them. And then there are the servants’ quarters at the top of the house.”

“We shall need a few servants,” said Sophie. “Your mother will help us engage them. It may be a little difficult for us… because of the language.”

“I am sure she will be delighted to help. And if there is anything I can do, Aunt Sophie, you know I shall be only too happy.”

“Thank you, Claudine. You’re a good girl. Oh, there will be so much to do. I want to go upstairs. Come on, Jeanne. I can’t wait.”

I followed them up. I noticed the carved banisters and the elegantly moulded ceilings. Once it had been a beautiful house. Would it be so again with Sophie there? No, she was not what it needed. Again I thought this house is crying out for a big and joyous family to laugh and frolic and believe so fervently in the goodness of the world that they drive away all the morbid brooding ghosts.

Sophie would not do that.

I wondered what good, practical Jeanne thought of the project.

I had an opportunity to ask her while Sophie was in one of the bedrooms and I found myself in the corridor alone with her.

I said to her: “My aunt can’t be serious about buying this house.”

“But she is,” said Jeanne.

“You must dissuade her. You must see how unsuitable it is.”

“No,” she said. “I think it is suitable. Have you seen how happy she is? There will be so much to do. It will take a very long time. I have always sought ways of bringing her alive to the world, of making her feel interested… excited even. Putting this house to rights will take a very long time. There will be work to be done, people to see, fabrics to be chosen. I plan to work on it room by room. It will take us several years. As soon as we came into the house I saw how it affected her and I knew it was what I had been looking for.”

I was amazed, but I saw at once that Jeanne, with her usual practical outlook, was right. Sophie needed Enderby. Its very gloom appealed to her. She would not have wanted a house that was full of sunshine and ready for habitation. She liked its gloomy atmosphere, which matched her own, and the prospect of all the work which must be done made it very desirable in Jeanne’s eyes.

“Jeanne!” Sophie was calling to her.

Jeanne smiled at me and immediately went to her mistress. They were in the main bedroom and Sophie was standing by the four-poster bed.

“Just look at this beautiful carving.”

Jeanne said: “It is exquisite. And the furniture is included in the cost of the house.”

“It is a bargain.”

“It does show how eager the owner is to get rid of it,” I reminded them.

“What colour curtains, Jeanne?” asked Sophie; and I had never before seen her so animated.

“We have to think of the rest of the room,” said Jeanne cautiously. “We must decide nothing in a hurry. Let us wait and see what else we shall do.”

I left them. I could not resist going into that smaller room along the corridor which I called the haunted room, the room of the voice.

I stood in the centre listening.

There was no sound at all but the light wind murmuring in the tall bushes.

Now that Jonathan had left the house it seemed a little more normal. David was very interested in Sophie’s desire to buy Enderby. I told him what Jeanne had said and he thought she was right.

“The house could make all the difference to her,” he said. “It will take her away from her own misfortunes. Give her an interest in life, something to be proud of.”

He wanted to see it again and we went over it together. He had a way of making everything seem as it should be. It was hard to imagine I had ever heard—or imagined I had heard—voices, when I was standing in that room with David.

“Its aspect could be completely changed,” he said. “I’ve always said that if those bushes were cut back and a little light let in, and the woodwork repaired, it would make all the difference.”

“There’s a great deal of work to be done.”

“That’s what Sophie has always needed… an interest.”

“Fate has brought her here and led her to Enderby.”

“Fate,” he agreed, “in the shape of Jonathan.”

The very mention of his name affected me. I could not forget that talk in the shrubbery. I shivered.

“Are you cold?” asked David.

“No… no.”

“Just someone walking over your grave, as they say.”

“I hate that expression.”

“I do too. I shouldn’t have said it. One shouldn’t refer to one’s grave when one is very much in the land of the living.” He put an arm around me. “I believe you would like to live in this house.”

“No, David, no!”

“I’ve often thought about these big family houses like Eversleigh with the whole family living in it. The sons marrying and bringing in their wives… and their children growing up there. It has occurred to me… in the last few days… that you might not like it and might prefer to get away.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” I was thinking of it now. Jonathan’s living under the same roof. He had few scruples where his desires were concerned. He was like his father in that. I had heard tales of Dickon’s wild youth. He had reformed not because he considered reformation desirable, but because he loved my mother exclusively. It was purely his own emotions—not a sense of honour—which kept him faithful. Eversleigh had become dangerous to me because it held Jonathan and me in close proximity. But how could I tell David that? And that the one I feared was not so much Jonathan as myself.

“There are houses on the estate,” went on David. “For instance, the manager’s.”

“Occupied by a manager at the moment.”

“Jack Dolland is a good fellow. I don’t know what we’d do without him. It was just an idea. I don’t think my father would like it… but I did wonder whether you did not care for living in the main house. Of course, your mother is there.”

“I am sure she would be most upset if we talked of going anywhere else.”

“Then we’ll stay. In any case, I don’t think it would be feasible just yet. It was just a thought.”

“Why did you bring it up now? Oh… Enderby, I suppose. David, I love Eversleigh. I have since the moment I saw it. I should not want to leave it.”

“Then that’s settled,” he said. “You know, this really is a bargain house.”

“A great deal will have to be spent on renovations.”

“Even so there is some good furniture in it.”

“It will certainly save Sophie’s buying a lot.”

“I believe there is also furniture stored away in the attics at Eversleigh. I expect your mother will go through them and see what can be passed on.”

“It is rather exciting, isn’t it? I mean for us all, not only Sophie. It will be nice to have the place occupied.”

He agreed, and arm in arm we went through the house. It was strange how different it felt with David.

They were pleasant days, though I could not quite recapture the honeymoon spirit. We rode round the estate together; David was welcomed everywhere. So was I.

Sophie and Jeanne spent hours talking about the house, and I told them that Molly Blackett would be able to make the curtains for them.

They discussed materials and colour schemes; and it really was extraordinary to see the change in Sophie.

Jonathan, my mother and Dickon were away for just over a week. The weather had changed and it was less mild than it had been. The damp and the mists had given way to an east wind—the one we knew very well in this south-eastern corner of England. It could be penetrating and fierce, and although we were sheltered a little, being a few miles inland, it was never very welcome.

It turned to the north and that could bring snow. I had been a little anxious for fear the snow would delay their journey, perhaps prevent their getting home, so when I heard the carriage turn in at the drive I ran down joyfully to meet them.

I embraced my mother and we clung together.

“Oh, I’m glad to be home,” she said. “Just look at the sky. Ominous! Those are snow clouds up there.”

“It’s too early for snow,” said Dickon. “It usually comes after Christmas. How have you been getting on without us, Claudine?”

He kissed me. And there was Jonathan, smiling at me, picking me up, swinging me high, holding me tightly and laughing up at me.

“Do you know,” he said, “I forget she’s a married woman now. I see her as little French Claudine.”

My mother laughed and so did Dickon. They were so glad to be home.

Jonathan put me down and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“So you’re pleased to have us home, eh?”

“Of course,” I said, turning away and slipping my arm through that of my mother. “I think Aunt Sophie has really decided.”

“I can’t believe it,” said my mother.

Of course, Jonathan’s being home shattered my peace. He seemed to watch me all the time and I was constantly aware of him. I avoided him. Something warned me. It was that alarming discovery that I was not so much afraid of him as of myself. I was thinking of him all the time.

My mother—once she had recovered from her surprise and misgivings about Sophie’s taking Enderby—threw herself whole-heartedly into the project. She brought in Molly Blackett and they discussed curtains and such things. She went through the furniture in the attics, and the main topic of conversation was Enderby.

Dickon said the sale would not take long to be completed. He had had no difficulty in disposing of a magnificent diamond ring which would be ample for the purchase of the house.

Sophie could not wait to get possession. Meanwhile we had the key of the house and she could spend as much time as she liked there. Molly Blackett had been summoned to take measurements; Sophie and Jeanne went into the town to make purchases. My mother said they should go to London where they would find a great variety of materials to choose from.

Sophie demurred but at last decided it was a good idea.

It was about three weeks before Christmas. The threatened snow had not come as the wind had changed abruptly and we were back to the warmish damp weather again—the kind which was usual at this time of the year in our part of the country.

My mother said she would accompany Sophie and Jeanne to London for they need stay only for a few days; and it was arranged that they should go. My mother had some Christmas shopping to do in any case. Right at the last minute—as I guessed he would—Dickon said he would go with them.

While they were away Molly Blackett was to do some more measuring and take down some of the old curtains to see if anything could be done with them; and also to note what fittings would be needed. I said I would go with Molly and explain what was wanted.

That was how it came about that I was in the house on that December day.

I had arranged with Molly to come at two o’clock, which would give us a good two hours before darkness fell. David would be busy all day on the estate.

I rode over and let myself in.

It was strange to be alone there. The house seemed different—my imagination again—as though it were watching and waiting… waiting to spring something on me.

I was early and Molly had not yet arrived. She had to come from the cottages on the Eversleigh estate, and I was sure she would be there in a few minutes, for she prided herself on her punctuality.

My impulse had been to wait outside for her; but chiding myself for cowardice, I had forced myself to go in.

My footsteps echoed on the stone floor of the hall; I looked up at the gallery and wondered what had induced Sophie to take such a place.

We were going to do the measurements upstairs, and I had a great desire to enter that room where I had heard the voice. I wanted to assure myself that I was not afraid, and that I was not so silly as to be frightened of an empty house.

I left the door open so that Molly could come straight in, and I ran up the stairs.

I went into the room and stood there.

All was silent; and almost immediately I heard the door shut and footsteps in the hall.

“I’m up here, Molly,” I called.

I looked round the room. The blue curtains had already been taken down from the bed and lay in a heap on the floor. They were in good condition and could be beaten and brushed, Jeanne had said, and then they would be as good as new.

I went to the door and stared. It was not Molly who stood there, but Jonathan.

“What are you doing here?” I gasped.

“Looking for you.”

“Molly Blackett will be here at any minute.”

He shook his head. He came on slowly and shut the door, leaning against it.

“What do you mean…?”

“Just that you will have to put up with me instead of Molly.”

“What are you talking about? Molly is coming to do some measurements.”

“She won’t be coming.”

“Nonsense. It has been arranged.”

“It has now been disarranged.”

“What do you mean? Disarranged?”

“By me. I have had a message sent to Molly Blackett to say that you could not see her this afternoon and would make other arrangements. You will be engaged elsewhere this afternoon.”

“You are…”

“Yes, I am, am I not! My methods are Machiavellian.”

“You are most impertinent. How dare you interfere with my arrangements! How dare you send messages pretending they come from me!”

“I am daring by nature. I had to get you alone somehow. It isn’t easy, is it? This seems a heaven-sent opportunity.”

“I am leaving at once.”

He shook his head.

“We are going to talk. We have to come to an understanding, Claudine, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since you came to England. I made up my mind then that you were for me, and I have never changed it.”

“Look, Jonathan, I don’t want to listen to this.”

“You are not very truthful, you know. You should see yourself now. Your eyes flash. There is a flush in your cheeks. There is that in your voice which tells me you know as well as I do that you and I are meant for each other. It is fate, my dear Claudine. There is no going against it. You shouldn’t have rushed into this absurd marriage… then it would have been so much easier. Now what are we faced with? Subterfuge… intrigue… secret meetings… stolen ecstasy.”

“What on earth are you talking about? I’m going now.”

He stood by the door watching me. I felt a terrible fear and an almost suffocating excitement. If I attempted to walk past him he would catch me and hold me captive. I dared not do that and yet… what else?

I hesitated and he went on: “You know very well what I’m talking about. Why do you pretend, Claudine? You betray yourself in a hundred ways. Do you think I don’t know you want me as much as I want you?”

“You are quite… depraved.”

He laughed. “No,” he said. “I am just in love, and I am not the man to stand meekly by while others take what is rightly mine.”

“Rightly yours! Have you forgotten that I happen to be married to your brother?”

“That makes no difference. You and I belong together. David is a good fellow… a very good fellow. He should have a pleasant quiet little wife. Not my fiery Claudine. She is not the wife for him. You are young and know nothing of love and passion and all the delights which I am waiting to show you. You would never learn them from David. He’s worthy… oh yes… rather a noble fellow. He would never step aside from the path of respectability. But I am not like that. I defy conventions, Claudine, and so will you. They are made for people like David, not for us.”

“I wish you would stop talking about David. He is my husband and I love him dearly. I am very contented with my life.”

“When you talk so emphatically I know you are seeking to convince yourself. You are not satisfied. You thought you were. Look at you now. Your heart is fluttering and your eyes are alight with anticipation. Why are we wasting time in futile words?”

He approached me and when I attempted to elude him he caught me and held me firmly. He lifted me from the floor and held me in his arms as though I were a baby.

“You see, I am a great deal stronger than you are, Claudine.”

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Showing you what has to be done.”

“Jonathan, put me down. I want to talk to you seriously.”

He lowered me and putting his arm about me led me to the bed. He sat down with me beside him; he had his arm tightly round me and he put his hand on my heart. “How it beats!” he said. “It beats for me.”

“I want to go home at once,” I said.

“I thought you wanted to talk seriously.”

“I do. I want to say you must stop this, Jonathan. Don’t you see how impossible life will be? You… living in the same house. Either we shall have to go away or you will. It would be easier for you. You could go to London. You are there a great deal with your banking and secret activities. Go and stay there. It will be better for us all.”

He laughed. “I should not see you then. Would you condemn me to a life of frustration?”

“Please don’t talk like this.”

“What then should I talk of? The weather? Sophie’s acquisition of this house? Is it going to snow before Christmas? Can you believe she has taken Enderby! No, my little Claudine. I have weightier matters on my mind. You, my lovely one. I am obsessed by you, Claudine. Claudine… my Claudine… who is different from all other women… who is a child and yet a woman… who has so much to learn, which I shall have to teach her. But she will be willing to learn. I detect that willingness. In fact, my dearest love, it is one of the qualities which I find so attractive.”

“I wish you would talk sensibly. I must go back. I think it was very wrong of you—very inconsiderate to send that message to Molly Blackett. I remember that other occasion when she was making my dress…”

“Oh yes, and the silly creature came back too soon. History repeating itself, coming events casting their shadows before them. But this time she won’t come, will she?”

“I must go.”

I stood up and he was immediately beside me.

“I can’t let you go, Claudine.”

“I am going.”

“How can you if I won’t let you?”

“You mean you will hold me here… against my will?”

“I’d rather you stayed willingly.”

“Willingly… What for? I am going now.”

He had his arms round me. “Claudine, listen to me.”

“There is nothing to listen to. There is no explanation. This is monstrous. I shall tell David… I shall tell my mother and your father.”

“What a little teller of tales! You won’t, you know.”

“You seem to have made up your mind what I shall and shall not do.”

“Claudine, I love you. You and I belong together. A few words said in a church can’t alter that. What is between us is there for ever. It’s like my father and your mother. You’ve seen them together. That is how it is with us. Preordained… Fate… Call it what you like. It is not often two people meet and know they are the only ones. That is us, Claudine, and it is no use trying to pretend.”

“I daresay this is your set piece with all the married women you seek to seduce.”

“I have never made that speech before. There is only one to whom it would apply. Claudine, don’t go against what has to be. Face it. Accept it. And try to work out a solution from there.”

“You seem to be of the opinion that I am as depraved as you are.”

He bent back my head and kissed my throat. I wished that I did not feel so emotionally aroused. I ought to turn and run away. I knew I must, but he would not let me go; and if I were really truthful I had to admit that I did not want to.

“Jonathan,” I said quietly. “Please, please let me go.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You belong to me. You have been foolish. You must have known all the time that you should never have married David.”

“Stop!” I cried. “I love David. He is good and kind. He is everything I need.”

“You say that because you do not know what you need.”

“And you know, of course.”

“Of course.”

He slipped the bodice from my shoulders just as he had in the sewing room.

“No,” I cried. “No.”

But he had forced me back on the bed.

“You don’t want to go, Claudine,” he said. He took the pins from my hair and let it fall about my shoulders. I protested, weakly, I must admit, whispering—perhaps without conviction: “Let me go.”

I heard him laugh and I felt his hands on me. It was as though I were sinking into mists of pleasure; and I knew that I had never experienced anything like this before, and that I could not go now… not even if he stood aside and allowed me to.

I forgot where I was… in this haunted room, this room of strange voices. I forgot everything but that I wanted to be with Jonathan, and that I had never known such ecstasy and that I wanted it to go on for ever. Perhaps somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew I must come out of this madness and face the wicked thing I was doing; but I could not at that moment. I was swallowed up in my desire and my overwhelming emotions.

I don’t know how long I lived in that world of sensation when nothing outside it seemed of any importance. But the reckoning came… and soon.

I wrenched myself free. I tried to arrange my disordered dress, my loose hair. I stared about me. This room… this evil room! Were those voices a warning? Had I been told by some supernatural force that this room could be the scene of my shame?

I put my hands over my face and began to weep quietly.

Jonathan put an arm about me. “Don’t, Claudine,” he said. “Be happy. It was wonderful, wasn’t it? Didn’t you know it would be? You and I. It was perfect. Some people are meant for each other. We are like that.”

“What have I done?”

He took my hands and kissed them. “Made me happy,” he said. “Made yourself happy.”

“David… What of David?”

“He will not know.”

I stared at him in horror. “I must tell him. I must confess what I have done. I must do so… right away.”

“My dear, dear one, you are not being reasonable.”

“I have been so wicked.”

“No, no. You have behaved naturally. You must not feel this guilt.”

“Not feel guilty when I am guilty? Oh, how could you!”

“I did not force you, did I? You wanted to make love with me as much as I did with you.”

“If you had not come here. If you—”

“If you were not you and I were not myself, yes, things would have been so different. Listen to me, Claudine. You are married to David. He is a good man. He would be bitterly hurt if he knew that you and I were in love with each other.”

“I tell you, I love him.”

“Yes… but differently, eh? You love us both. Well, we are twins, are we not? There must be a closeness between us. We started life together right from the beginning. We were together before we were born. There must be a bond between us. You love us both and because we are twins it is almost as though you love the same man.”

“This doesn’t help at all.” I put my hands to my burning cheeks and started to pile up my hair. I was trembling, I could not bear to look into the future.

“Oh, why did you do this?” I cried. “Why did you send that message to Molly Blackett?”

“It had to be. I was seeking an opportunity. This seemed a good one.”

“I don’t think you have any scruples.”

“Oh yes I have. But I accept the inevitable. This had to be.”

“It must never happen again.”

He stood beside me and kissed me gently. “It is our secret,” he said. “No one need ever know.”

“I must tell David.”

“If you do you will ruin his happiness.”

“What a pity you did not think of that before!”

“Before, I could think of only one thing. Listen to me, Claudine. This has happened. It had to happen at some time. Perhaps it will happen again.”

“Never,” I cried vehemently. “It must never.”

“Nobody knows we are here together. It can be our secret. Look at it like this: I had to do what I did. It obsessed me. It was such a desperate need that I had no feelings for anything else, and when you were there, close to me, Claudine, it was the same with you. It is a powerful attraction between us. You can do no good by confessions. Your secret guilt hurts only you.”

“Perhaps you are right,” I said slowly. “I want to get away from this house. I know it is an evil house. It does something to people. It makes them different from what they really are.”

“Perhaps it shows them what they really are.”

I wanted to get away. I wanted to think about this. I could not bear to stay there a moment longer.

I felt for the key of the house in the pocket of my dress. I was thankful it was still there for I feared it might have dropped out. There were certain cracks in the floorboards and it could have fallen down one of those. But there it was, safe, and the very feel of it brought me back to reality.

I ran down the stairs. Jonathan was right behind me.

Into the hall, across the stone floor, our footsteps echoing through the house, I turned to look at the minstrels’ gallery and it seemed to me that there was a smug satisfaction about the house.

We came out and I locked the door.

I was dazed by my experience; and I felt as though I were still living in that world of wonderment to which he had introduced me. We walked across the fields to Eversleigh.

The house was quiet and I was glad I did not meet anyone on my way to my room. There I looked at myself in the mirror and it seemed that a stranger looked back at me.

This was not the same woman who had left that afternoon for the appointment with Molly Blackett. Of course it wasn’t! I should never be the same again. I had broken one of the commandments: Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery. And I had done this so easily… yet unintentionally—so carried away by the impulse of the moment. I had feared it, of course, but I had never truly thought it would happen. I had not realized that potent sexuality, that overwhelming power which silenced all qualms, which knew no conscience while one was in its thrall. I would never have believed this could happen to me.

I knew the story of my grandmother Zipporah, who had met a man in that very house and had behaved as I had today. She had been a quiet, virtuous woman, different from me, really, because I had always known that Jonathan could arouse desires in me which I must not give way to. What was that brooding evil at Enderby which had such an effect on the women of my family?

I was trying to shift the blame. I was trying to accuse the house of being responsible for my own misconduct.

How had it happened, so quickly, so easily? He had not forced me, he had said rather triumphantly. It was true. I had abandoned myself, willingly. I wished I could stop thinking of him. But I loved him, if loving was feeling more alive with some one person more than with anyone else, wanting to be with that person, to be close, to share intimacy, to be together every hour of the day and night.

Had I not felt that with David? David was interesting. He was kind and tender. It was a quiet relationship which had contented me until this afternoon. Love-making with David was quite pleasurable—as was everything else. But never had I experienced that wild excitement, that complete abandonment which I had known this afternoon.

Guilt weighed me down. If only I could go back to early afternoon. I should have waited outside the house. I should never have allowed it to wrap its tentacles around me. There I was, blaming the house again. There was no one to blame but myself… and Jonathan. And he had not forced me. I kept stressing that.

He was right. What good could confession do? If I were wise I should dismiss the incident from my mind. I should try to behave as though it had never happened. Perhaps in time I could forget it ever had. Forget it? That most shattering experience? Already I was thinking of being there, and seeing him there with me.

I must not tell David. It must be my secret… and Jonathan’s. He was right. It must remain so.

Perhaps his conscience would trouble him, as mine did me. Perhaps he would go to London, stay there, visit Eversleigh only occasionally.

Perhaps the manager would decide to leave, and then David and I could have his house.

I knew what I was telling myself were improbabilities. Jonathan would not stay in London; the manager would not go. Moreover, I wondered whether Jonathan would seek to trap me again. The very thought excited me. God help me, I wanted to be trapped. That was the frightening part of it. I revelled in my sin.

In the meantime I had to live through the next hours. I had to behave normally with my guilt clinging to me. Surely it was obvious.

I took down my hair which I had hastily pinned up. I undressed and got into bed. I would have a headache today. I could not go down to dine for I could not face anyone.

David was full of concern when he came in.

I said: “I have such a headache. I thought I’d go to bed. It’s better when I’m lying down.”

He bent over me and kissed me tenderly. Was there anything I needed? Should he have a tray sent up?

I told him no. I would rather sleep.

So I lay in my bed and when David came up I pretended to be asleep.

I almost burst into tears when he kissed me lightly because he feared to wake me.

I lay still, and I could not stop myself thinking of Jonathan, and of those magical moments in the haunted room.

My mother, with Dickon, Sophie and Jeanne, came home the next day. They were excited by their purchases. I had not seen Jonathan since our encounter and I needed all my cunning to act as though everything were normal.

Sophie was delighted with the materials she had bought and admitted it was a good idea to have gone to London.

“Did Molly get those measurements?” she asked.

I replied that she hadn’t done so yet as I had been unable to meet her when I intended to.

“Well, there’s no hurry,” said my mother, “and Jeanne can supervise her.”

At dinner that night everyone was there, even Sabrina, who appeared on special occasions, which was when anyone who had been away returned; and particularly if it happened to be Dickon.

Jonathan seemed exactly the same. I could not meet his eyes but I was aware of him all the time.

The sale of Enderby was now completed and Sophie could begin doing any repairs to the house and furniture she wanted to.

“I’ll get Tom Ellin to come over and see you,” said Dickon. “He’s an excellent carpenter.”

“We shall see wonders at Enderby,” said my mother. “What an exciting project!”

“I think,” put in Jonathan, looking at me, blue flames in his eyes, “that we are getting rather fond of that old house.”

“David always said that cutting down some of the shrubs and trees would make all the difference,” I commented deliberately, not meeting Jonathan’s gaze.

“I shall not do too much cutting back,” said Sophie. “What I like about Enderby is that feeling of seclusion.”

Then my mother started to talk about Christmas.

“All this excitement has made me forget how close it is.”

“I suppose it will be the usual entertaining?” I asked.

“It is the old tradition, isn’t it, Mother?” said Dickon.

Sabrina smiled fondly at him, and he put his hand over hers and pressed it. He was always gentle and tender with her. I supposed such absolute adoration could not fail to bring a response.

“Carol singers and the punch bowl,” went on my mother, “the wassailing, and of course the usual festivities of the day. I don’t want too many this year. Just a few house guests. I think the Farringdons will have to stay a night or two. The Manor is not far off, but if the weather is bad…”

“It’s a pity,” I said, “that Christmas can’t be in the summer when travelling would be so much easier.”

“Oh, no, no,” cried Jonathan. “The darkness adds to the joy. Those lovely log fires, coming in from the cold, hoping there’ll be snow, picturesque on the trees—after everyone has safely arrived, and it must have thawed to allow them to depart at the appointed time. Why do people always want life to fit neatly into their plans?”

“I suppose you are right,” I admitted. “Christmas wouldn’t be the same at any other time.”

He touched my hand lightly and said: “You will find that I often am right, little Claudine.”

“No one can accuse Jonathan of an abundance of modesty,” said my mother lightly. “What do you think of the Farringdons, all of you? They are quite a nice family and Harry would be an asset at any party.”

“Oh yes, Harry is amusing and handsome,” I said. “Quite an asset.”

“I wonder they haven’t married him off,” mused Dickon. “He’s quite a catch. He will be very comfortably placed when he inherits, as he will, as the only son.”

“And of course the Pettigrews,” went on my mother. “You’ll like that, won’t you, Jonathan?” She spoke with meaning. I think there had been an understanding between her and Lady Pettigrew that her daughter Millicent should make a match with either David or Jonathan, and now that David and I were married Jonathan was the free one.

“Very much, Step-mama,” said Jonathan.

It was absurd, it was shameful, but I felt a pang of jealousy. I was trying to pretend that what had happened between us at Enderby would never happen again, and yet the thought of Jonathan with anyone else was excessively painful to me.

“And what about the locals,” asked David. “The Dollands, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed my mother. “Emily Dolland is such a help with everything, and we all appreciate Jack, of course.”

“He’s a good man,” commented Dickon. “David agrees, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” said David.

“And I suppose,” went on my mother, “we can’t leave out the Grasslands people.”

There was silence at the table and my mother went on: “Evalina Trent would be most put out. The girl, Evie, is getting very pretty. I saw her the other day. She looks very attractive in her habit and she rides well. I thought she was quite a beauty. The little one was with her.”

“Poor Dolly,” said Sabrina.

“We’ll have to have them, I’m afraid,” said my mother. “I must say I don’t greatly care for Evalina Trent.”

“She’s a great pusher,” Dickon put in. “Always has been since she was a young girl.”

“She’s been around for a long time, hasn’t she, Dickon?” said Sabrina.

“Yes, she came to Grasslands when her mother was housekeeper here.” He laughed suddenly, as though he was remembering something amusing.

“She seems to think a great deal of that pretty grand-daughter of hers,” said my mother. “That’s natural, but rather a responsibility for her since they have no parents. I suppose they’ll have to come. Thank Heaven, they don’t have to stay in the house. I wonder when Enderby will be ready. Well into the new year, I suppose.”

“When do you hope to move?” asked Sabrina of Sophie.

“As soon as I can.” Sophie gave a nervous little laugh. “Oh, that seems ungrateful. You have all been so helpful. But I want to be in my own house, you understand.”

“Of course we understand,” said my mother, “and we are only too pleased that it has all worked out so satisfactorily.”

Satisfactorily? I thought. I wondered what she would say if she knew what had happened between Jonathan and me.

So the plans for Christmas went on.

I saw Jonathan alone in the gardens. He said to me: “I must see you again, Claudine… alone. I can’t go on like this.”

I begged: “Please don’t. I’m beginning to forget…”

“You can never forget. It was too wonderful to be forgotten. Claudine, we must—”

“No, no,” I said.

“Admit then that you love me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand myself, you, or anything any more.”

“But it was wonderful for you.”

I was silent.

“You were tempted, weren’t you? You could not resist. Do you think I didn’t know! You’re so marvelous. No one else will do for me, and it must be the same with you.”

“It can’t be. David is my husband.”

“And I am your lover.”

“It is an impossible situation.”

“How can it be when it exists?”

“It must not exist. It is finished… Finished, I tell you.”

“It will never finish, Claudine, while you are you and I am myself.”

“Please, don’t…”

“Admit it then. Admit that you love me. Admit that it was wonderful… more wonderful than you have ever believed anything could be.”

I heard myself shouting: “All right. It was. It was…”

Then I ran into the house.

Once I had made that admission, I knew there would be no holding back. He would seek every opportunity and when it came, snatch at it. And I knew that I should be there. I could not fight this. I was learning something of my own nature which I had not known until Jonathan aroused it. I was not the woman to be content with a quiet tender passion. I wanted to soar the heights, not just dally in the pleasant lowlands. He was right when he said I wanted both him and David. I did. I loved David. I found the way in which he seemed so delighted and almost surprised that I loved him, most endearing. I loved to read and discuss with him. I was interested in matters of the mind, but there was another side to my nature too. I was a voluptuous and sensuous woman. I had needs which demanded satisfaction; and as with such physical desires, when they presented themselves, they could subdue everything else.

Jonathan knew me better than I knew myself. He had probed that hidden part of me. It was that which appealed to him. He wanted the sort of woman I was. My position in the household had made me the most desirable wife he could have. It had never occurred to him that in such a short time after his disappearance, I could have married David.

His journey to France had not been one of those on-the-spur-of-the-moment decisions we had been led to believe it was. He was involved with his father’s secret life, and Dickon, in the past, had made many journeys to France. Men doing such work contrived to have an obvious reason for their voyages, the better to help disguise the real one. Jonathan had gone to France not only to rescue Sophie but to gather certain information—of that I was sure now. He had seized the opportunity to go with Charlot and had intended to return when his mission was accomplished… and then he planned to marry me.

But I had ruined his plans by my hasty marriage to David. Looking back, I wondered why I had slipped into that so easily. It might have been because I was piqued by Jonathan’s departure. Always it was Jonathan who was in my thoughts. Had I been older, wiser, I should have guessed; but because I was innocent, life seemed simple to me. I had imagined that when I married David that would be the end of all conflict and we should live happily ever after.

Now I was being revealed to myself and I saw a woman who would risk a great deal to be with her lover. My marriage vows, everything I had been brought up to believe was right, my guilty conscience… all could be pushed to one side when I was confronted by the overpowering need to make love with this one man.

I can make no excuses. I went into the next betrayal eagerly. We had the key of the house. We knew when no one would be there, and we went again to that room and made frenzied love, and it seemed to me more excruciatingly exciting the second time than the first.

Then my remorse returned. I was weighed down by my guilt. It was even heavier than before because I could not now tell myself that I had been trapped into the situation. I had gone willingly. I had clung to him; I had shared his impatience and his ecstasy. I had admitted that I loved him, that I had made a bitter mistake. I was a wicked and abandoned woman and, during the height of my passion, I revelled in my abandonment.

There was no excuse for me. I was wanton. I had deliberately deceived my husband.

Jonathan felt no such guilt, although he was betraying his own brother. He said fatalistically: “It had to happen. It was meant.”

Afterwards I felt angry—mainly with myself. I was aghast at my own behaviour. I suffered anguish when I was with David, who was so kind always. I felt irritated with him merely because of his kindness, for his goodness only accentuated my depravity.

I wished that I could confide in my mother. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to know why I—who previously had always had a sense of honour, a sense of duty—could behave so.

We must get away, I decided. Jonathan must go away. We could not continue to live like this under the same roof.

As we walked back to the house Jonathan said: “Tomorrow?”

“No,” I cried. “It must never happen again.”

But he only smiled at me, and I knew as well as he did that it would.

I was shocked, too, to find that I did not have such difficulty in behaving normally as I had done on the first occasion. I did not go to bed pleading a headache. I went down to dinner and we all sat round the table, talking, laughing, making Christmas plans—myself as merry as any of them outwardly, and it was only when I glanced across the table and caught Jonathan’s blue eyes on me, and I looked sideways at David, that the terrible sense of remorse overcame me.

The Pettigrews arrived the day before Christmas Eve. Their carriage was very grand with the Pettigrew crest prominently engraved on it and Lady Pettigrew at least was eager that everyone should be aware of their importance. Lord Pettigrew was much quieter than his wife. No one would have believed that all her glory came through him. He held a post at Court which I imagined was so arduous that when he was in the heart of his family he was ready to agree to anything for the sake of peace.

The Honourable Millicent was a handsome young woman who looked as if she had a will of her own, and I imagined that she and her mother were a formidable pair who managed to get what they wanted.

It became obvious that what they wanted was Jonathan as a prospective husband for Millicent. I was acutely aware of anything connected with Jonathan and now suffered twinges of jealousy. Jonathan would be a match which would be highly approved of by Lady Pettigrew. Dickon was not only an extremely wealthy man but an influential one. Yes, I could see that Lady Pettigrew and Millicent had selected Jonathan for his role.

I mentioned it to my mother. She laughed and said: “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me. I think Dickon would be quite pleased. He’s very friendly with Lord Pettigrew. They have a great deal in common… in the City. Mind you, Lady Pettigrew is rather a forceful lady and I am not sure that Millicent doesn’t take after her. But I think Jonathan would be able to handle that. Is anything wrong?”

“No… What makes you think so?”

“I thought you looked a little depressed. Not tired are you?”

She was looking at me anxiously and the colour flooded my face. She thinks I might be pregnant! I told myself. Then suddenly the thought of what this could mean if I were swept over me.

“It’s all right,” I said firmly. “I’m perfectly normal.”

She patted my arm lightly. “Well, Christmas comes but once a year, and sometimes I’m heartily glad of that.”

Each day I was realizing more and more what a web I was being caught up in. My jealousy of Millicent, my sudden fear that I might have a child and should have to ask myself whose, brought home to me ever more strongly the seriousness of my predicament.

It must stop. I must never, never give way to my emotions again. I would get over this obsession. I would be a good wife to David and I would attempt to wipe this sordid incident right out of my mind.

The next day the Farringdons came. They were very charming people—Gwendoline, John and their son, Harry. Harry was in his mid-twenties, very good-looking. He helped his father run their estate, which I learned was the same size as Eversleigh.

In the early afternoon of Christmas Eve a party of the younger people went for a ride. There was David, Jonathan, Harry Farringdon, Millicent Pettigrew and myself. I rode between David and Harry while Jonathan with Millicent went ahead. I found myself watching them intently. You must stop this, I admonished myself. It only makes you wretched. You are risking everything that is worthwhile for the sake of a few sensational moments. I glanced at David. He looked contented and was talking of the estate with Harry—comparing Eversleigh with Farringdon.

We had the mist back again—it was damp and warm for the time of the year and clearly we should not have snow for Christmas. A wintry sun was trying to break through the clouds.

“‘If the sun shines through your apple trees on Christmas Day,’” quoted David. “‘When autumn comes they will a load of fruit display.’”

“Let’s hope it shines through the apple trees then,” I said.

“I like those old rhymes,” commented Harry. “And they are very often right.”

“They should be since they are culled from the wisdom of men who have watched weather for ages,” replied David.

“I suppose you had them in France,” Harry asked me.

“I suppose so, but I don’t remember hearing any.”

Jonathan had turned. “Why are you lagging behind?” he asked. His eyes met mine, dancing with mischief, and all my resolutions began to crumble away.

“We were talking about the weather and old rhymes,” I told him.

“‘If New Year’s night-wind blows south,’” said Harry, “‘It betokens warmth and growth.’”

“I can’t wait for New Year’s night,” said Jonathan.

“‘If west, much milk and fish in sea,’” went on Harry, unperturbed. “‘If north, cold and storms will be. If north-east, flee it, man and brute.’”

“Very pretty,” said Jonathan.

“And very probably true,” added David.

“Truth and beauty—what a combination!” said Jonathan. “But why all this preoccupation with the weather?”

“If you worked on the land you would be preoccupied with it,” David retorted.

“I bow to your superior wisdom. At least we are not having one of those romantic snowy Christmases. I can never understand why people set such store by them.”

“It’s rather exciting not knowing whether you are going to arrive or not,” said Millicent.

“Travelling is always such fun,” added Jonathan. “It is getting there that does not always live up to expectations.”

“Well, I am determined that getting here is going to live up to my expectations,” declared Millicent.

“Then rest assured that it will be a happy Christmas, for my Lady Millicent must always be obeyed,” said Jonathan.

“It amuses you to laugh at me,” said Millicent.

“There is little I like better than being amused.”

“Come on,” cried Millicent. “Which way?”

“Straight ahead,” I said. “We’ll pass my aunt Sophie’s new house on the way.”

“Oh, I should love to see it.”

“We haven’t the key,” I said quickly.

“Well, from outside. Perhaps while we are staying at Eversleigh we could go and see it.”

“I am sure you could,” said Jonathan.

Millicent rode on and we all followed.

There it was. The house which had become so important to me, a kind of symbol of sin.

“It looks exciting, but a little grim,” commented Millicent.

“I think it a very interesting house,” Jonathan told her. He looked at me, smiling. “You like it, don’t you, Claudine?”

“I admit it is a most unusual house.”

“It looks as if it is in need of repairs,” put in Harry, casting a businesslike look over it.

“You are right up to a point,” said David. “But it is amazing what a solid old place it is. A little bit of rot here and there… just a sign or two of decay. It’s amazing considering how long it has been empty.”

“Strange that it should stand empty for so long,” said Harry.

“Oh, it has a bit of a reputation.”

“Ghosts?” cried Millicent. “Noises in the night? How very thrilling!”

I thought: And voices in a room on the first floor, a room which would be in my memory for ever.

“Well, there it is,” said David. “We’ll get the key before you leave, Millicent, and you shall have a real tour.”

I was glad when we rode off.

As we were coming past Grasslands, Evie and her sister were riding in. We pulled up.

“Hello, Evie,” I said. “This is Miss Evie Mather and her sister Dorothy. Evie and Dolly, you haven’t met the Honourable Millicent Pettigrew and Mr. Harry Farringdon.”

Both Harry and Millicent were, I think, a little taken aback by the sight of the sisters. I suppose it was the contrast they made, Dolly’s deformity calling attention to Evie’s good looks.

“Were you going for a ride?” I asked. “It’s just the afternoon for it.”

“We were just returning, as a matter of fact,” said Evie.

“Well, it will be dark soon.”

“Would you like to come in and have a glass of something?”

“It’s getting late,” I replied. “We want to be back before dark.”

“And there are so many of us,” added David.

Harry was looking at Evie. He said: “I’d like to… We need not stay long.”

“I have to get back,” said Millicent.

“All right,” put in Jonathan. “You three stay and I’ll take Millie back.”

Again that sick jealousy! I was annoyed. I hated the thought of leaving Millicent with Jonathan and going into Grasslands, but there seemed no way out.

“Au revoir!” called Jonathan gaily.

Millicent was smiling, well pleased. Glad to be rid of us, I was sure; and the rest of us dismounted and went into the house.

Evalina Trent came into the hall to greet us.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.”

I introduced Harry and Mrs. Trent almost fawned upon him.

“Oh yes… what a nice surprise,” she repeated. “Come along in. We’ll all wish each other a merry Christmas.”

So we sat in the little intimate parlour which led from the hall and we drank the wine while we chatted amiably about nothing. Harry had seated himself next to Evie and was talking animatedly to her. Mrs. Trent’s eyes scarcely left them. She was very impressed by Harry.

“I know of Farringdon Hall,” she said. “A fine old place. I said to myself when I rode by in the carriage… that was when my son Richard was alive… I said, ‘Richard, that’s a fine place, that is, and one of the best estates roundabouts.’”

Harry said he thought so too but perhaps he was prejudiced.

“Oh, you don’t have to be. You’ve got it all… You and your father before you, and his father before him have made the place what it is. We do our best here at Grasslands, but my husband died…” She sighed. “That was my second… My first… Andrew… God bless him… passed away years ago.”

I glanced at David, suggesting with my look that we curtail this visit as quickly as we could. I was faintly irritated with Harry for forcing it on us, and I was wondering all the time what Jonathan was saying to Millicent on their way back.

Harry was still talking attentively to Evie. I heard him say: “Shall you be at Eversleigh tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, we’re invited.”

“I’m glad,” said Harry. “So glad.”

At last we were able to escape. I gasped with relief as we came out to the road. Mrs. Trent, with a grand-daughter on either side of her, had waved us goodbye, or au revoir as she insisted on saying.

It was Harry who had excited her. His interest in Evie had been blatant.

When I was alone with David in our bedroom, I commented on it.

“I think Mrs. Trent is getting ideas. Of course Harry is a very good match. I am sure she is already making plans to bring Evie and him together.”

“You can’t blame her. She’s got those two girls and I should imagine there is not a great deal she can do for them at Grasslands.”

“I have an idea that Evalina Trent will always try to get the best of all that comes her way.”

“Well, my love, isn’t that what we all try to do?”

“David,” I said, “you are a very nice man.”

“Oh, have you just discovered it?”

“I’ve always known it, but sometimes it strikes me more forcibly than others. You always see the best in people. I don’t believe you would see evil if it were right under your nose.”

“I expect I’d smell it out,” he said.

I threw myself at him and held him tightly. I was saying to myself: I must never hurt him. I must never again be alone with Jonathan… David must never know… It would hurt him too much.

I prayed then—a strange thing to do with all my sins upon me. I prayed for the strength I should need to live with this evil I had created.

When I returned to the house I found my mother busy in her private sanctum. She called to me.

“The carol singers will be round in the evening,” she said. “We shall have to bring them in and give them hot punch and cakes. That will be enough for tonight and we’ll hope to retire early in readiness for tomorrow. We shall eat in the hall tomorrow of course and while things are being cleared away for the dancing, I thought we’d have a treasure hunt. That always goes down well and the house lends itself to it so admirably. Another thing, there’ll be a moon and therefore enough light for them to see where they are going when they prowl about the house. I never liked lighted candles all over the place.”

I said: “That’s a good idea, Maman. Do you want me to help you with the clues?”

“No, Dickon and I will do them. If you help you won’t be able to join in.”

I said: “We went to Grasslands.”

“Oh, did you?”

“We couldn’t get out of it. It was Harry Farringdon’s fault. He wanted to go after he had seen Evie.”

My mother laughed. “So he took a fancy to her.”

“It was rather obvious. Mrs. Trent was very pleased.”

“Oh dear, I hope she wasn’t too obvious.”

“She always is… rather.”

“Poor old Evalina Trent! My mother disliked her intensely. I think something happened in the past. I have a feeling that she could be rather a dangerous woman.”

“I feel that too. However, she does care for those grand-daughters.”

“It’s poor little Dolly I’m sorry for.”

“Evie seems fond of her, and of course the poor girl dotes on Evie.”

“It’s sad to be born like that. Let’s hope something comes of Harry’s interest.”

“What would John and Gwen Farringdon think of the Grasslands family? Dickon said Harry was a very good match.”

“They’d look higher than Mrs. Trent’s grand-daughter, but if Harry wanted it… Well, I reckon he’s a young man who would have his way. But aren’t we being a little premature?”

We laughed. “It’s a good thing no one can hear us,” I said. “Anyway, I hope things work out well for Evie.”

“So do I,” said my mother. “Dancing will be just right after the treasure hunt and that can take up the rest of the evening. I’ve arranged for the music. The musicians can have something to eat while the treasure hunt is in progress. That will keep them going through the evening.”

I kissed her lightly and said: “You think of everything.”

Evening came. We were in the dining room and were just finishing the meal when the carol singers arrived. It was very picturesque with their lanterns bobbing about outside the windows and after the first rendering Dickon and my mother opened the door and they all trooped into the hall. There they sang for us and we applauded and joined in with the carols. The big punch bowl was brought in and the drink was ladled into goblets which the ladies of the household handed round with the pies and cakes which had been baked for the occasion.

Then we went to the punch room and talked of Christmases of the past, and my mother described Christmas in France, which was celebrated more on Christmas Eve than on the day itself. There was midnight Mass, and slippers by the fire into which gifts were placed.

Christmas Day came. I awoke with that heavy sense of guilt which was almost always with me nowadays and as I lay in bed I thought of last Christmas Day when I had been an innocent, lighthearted girl.

“It must end,” I said for the hundredth time.

We went to the little church in the village of Eversleigh for the morning service. With the unpredictability of our climate the weather had changed again and there was the faintest touch of frost in the air. After the service we walked home across the fields, and Jonathan suddenly started to sing a carol in which we all joined. He came and took my arm; on his other side was Millicent Pettigrew and her arm was slipped through his. He pressed mine against him and all my weakness returned. Momentarily I was happy because I was close to him.

I did not see him again that day until it was time to greet the arriving guests. My mother said that now I was a married woman I should take my stand with her to welcome them.

The Dollands arrived first, on foot of course, having come just from the manager’s house. Emily wanted to know if there was anything she could do to help.

“You may be pressed into service later,” said my mother, “but I think everything is under control just now.”

My mother looked very beautiful in a peacock-blue velvet gown which accentuated the blue of her eyes. There was a radiance about her. I thought: She at least is happy. Yet, when I paused to think of it I realized that she had had to go through many trials before she reached that contentment. Perhaps that was the fate of everyone and I was just embarking on my troubles. Troubles are always harder to bear when they are of one’s own making. It must be a comfort to have someone to blame… even if it was only Fate. That was denied me. I had not been forced into this situation. I had perhaps allowed myself to be led. But what effort had I made to escape it? Very little. I had gone willingly, and in my heart I knew I should do so again.

My dress was cherry-coloured. It was one of David’s favourites and I had worn it for that reason. I had a passionate desire to please him all I could, because I was treating him so badly…

The Trents arrived. Evie, in a gown of blue silk and lace, looked quite beautiful, Dolly was in blue also—painfully thin and gauche. I wondered if she might hide her deformity by wearing a patch over her eye. Some patches could be quite ornamental. I remembered a picture I had seen of the Princess of Eboli who had lost an eye. She looked most decorative… mysterious and exciting with her patch.

Mrs. Trent was in purple velvet. It was a beautiful dress and she was really quite a handsome woman. Her manners betrayed her. If only she would be quieter!

“It’s so nice of you to ask us,” she was saying. “My word, this is a fine old place. Eversleigh! I remember it well, I know every nook and cranny. It takes me back to be here.” Her eyes were darting about; searching for Harry Farringdon, I guessed.

He had found Evie. I believed he had been waiting for her. Now he was talking to her. I was glad that I had arranged with my mother that they should be seated together at the table.

I noticed Dolly, who kept beside her grandmother, although her eyes were wistfully on Evie all the time. It occurred to me briefly that she might resent anyone’s taking Evie from her.

Sophie was with us for dinner. She and Sabrina would slip away immediately after we had eaten—Sabrina because she must retire early, and Sophie, I supposed, because she still felt ill-at-ease in company and would, in any case, wish to be with Jeanne.

The great table in the hall looked magnificent in the light from the candelabra. I wondered how many candles were burning in the hall that night. My mother sat at one end of the massive oak table, Dickon at the other. Jonathan was with Millicent, David was next to Mrs. Trent, and I had Jack Dolland on one side and Harry Farringdon on the other. I could hear him and Evie chatting together.

The meal lingered on. There were toasts to the guests and their returning ones to us; and everybody was very merry. A great deal of wine was drunk and food consumed; and at length the time came for the treasure hunt. My mother explained to the company that the hall would be cleared while the treasure hunt was taking place and then we should be ready for dancing.

“You will all work individually,” she explained. “No collusion! The first lady and the first gentleman to bring me the six written clues will win the prizes. Now I shall give you all one clue and that should lead you to the next. When you have found it, pick up the clue—there is one for everybody—and go on to the next. The first to bring me six clues wins, and when everyone is assembled here… having completed the exercise or given up in despair, I shall make the presentation. We are grateful to the weather. Thank goodness it’s a clear night. The moon will light your way.”

People went off in different directions. There was much murmuring and suppressed laughter in the gloom.

I found the first clue easily. Perhaps I knew the way my mother’s mind worked. Moreover, I knew the house well and could have found my way about blindfolded. I would tell my mother that members of the family had an advantage over visitors and should be handicapped.

I had mounted a staircase and was in a corridor when a hand came out and seized me. I was held tightly and kissed with fervour.

“Jonathan!” I whispered.

“I was waiting to catch you.”

The door of one of the rooms was open. He drew me in and shut the door.

“It seems so long,” he said.

I could see beyond him to where a shaft of moonlight fell on the court cupboard, which was close to the bed.

“Jonathan… please… we can’t stay here.”

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“No… No… Never again.”

He laughed softly.

“How many times have you said never and how many times have I proved you wrong?”

“It has to stop. I can’t bear it.”

“And I could not bear to stop.”

“We’ve got to, Jonathan.”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “They will go riding in the afternoon. You stay behind and go to the house. I’ll see you there. Dear old Enderby… in our room. You’ll be there, Claudine.”

“No… no,” I said.

“Yes, yes,” he whispered. “Three o’clock. Oh, my darling, I do long for you.”

I wrenched myself away. We could so easily betray ourselves. What if someone came into this room and found us here together? What if David…? We must stop. We were running too many risks.

I ran down the stairs.

My mother was in the hall.

“Don’t tell me you’ve found them already.”

“No. But it has occurred to me that the family have an advantage and it is not fair to the others. We ought to be handicapped or disqualified if we win.”

“I see your point,” said my mother. “Stay here then. You look flushed and hot anyway.”

So I stayed with her. I was afraid to wander through those darkened rooms and corridors in case I met Jonathan… in case we were seen together.

I realized to the full then how I should feel if David discovered my perfidy. He must never, never know. I must forget this infatuation. I must cut it right out of my life. It was so utterly foolish… so selfish to risk so much.

Evie was the first lady to finish and Harry the first man.

“I scent collusion,” I whispered to my mother.

“It’s understandable. Evie looks different. She looks really happy.”

Evie received the ivory fan adorned with hand-painted roses and Harry the pewter tankard. There was loud applause and by that time the hall was cleared for dancing and the music began.

According to tradition my mother opened the dancing with Dickon, and David and I immediately joined them on the floor. Harry and Evie danced together and Jonathan with Millicent.

Rather mechanically I went through the minuet and the cotillion, and in spite of my fears and resolutions, when I danced with Jonathan I felt the excitement surging up in me.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

“I can’t come.”

“You will,” he told me.

He was laughing, his blue eyes aflame; and I felt a rising resentment because he did not suffer remorse as I did. He was perfectly contented with what was taking place.

For the first time I began to wonder whether he enjoyed this situation because of the risks and that they added a fillip to his desire. Could he really enjoy deceiving his own brother, breaking the laws of honour and convention… and of religion? Was it then that my feelings underwent a change? I felt the same urgent desire; but rather naïvely I had imagined previously that he would feel the same as I did—carried away by passion, yes, but suffering remorse and a terrible regret that our emotions had forced us to behave in such a manner.

When the guests had all departed I was glad to retire to our bedroom.

David said: “You are very tired, Claudine.”

I replied that it had been a long day.

“I think it went well,” he continued. “Your mother certainly knows how to manage these affairs. It was very different here before she married my father.” He lay down beside me and said: “Isn’t it wonderful to see two people so much in accord as they are?”

“They spar a little.”

“It is all part of that relationship, that inability-to-live-without-each-other-ness. I am so happy that they came through safely and that he brought her home and they married. Moreover it has given my grandmother absolute contentment in her old age.”

He drew me to him.

“We shall be like that, Claudine, through the years.”

I clung to him and thought: He must never know. I would rather die than he should know.

He made tender love to me and there were tears on my cheeks.

“Claudine,” he asked, “what is it? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, David,” I said, “I love you. I do love you.”

He kissed me, and after he slept I lay awake staring into the darkness.

Why had I let it happen? How could I deceive this good man?

Boxing Day, so called because those who had served us during the year called at the big house for what they called their “box,” which was, in fact, a gift of money.

Dickon and my mother were seated in the hall while the ceremony was in progress, and a party of us went over to Enderby, as Millicent insisted that we had promised to show her the house.

There were myself, David, Millicent, Jonathan, Lord and Lady Pettigrew, and Gwen and John Farringdon with Harry. David had the key and when he opened the door and we went into the hall there were exclamations of amazement. It looked different by morning light. A little wintry sun shone through the windows and the place had lost something of that melancholy look; there was still an eeriness about it, though; that was something which could never completely disappear, I was sure.

Millicent said: “Is that the haunted gallery?”

“It is said to be so,” replied David.

“Something awful happened there, I daresay. I’m glad I’m not alone here. Then I should feel positively scared.”

“No need to,” replied Jonathan, smiling at her. “There’s a strong arm here ready to defend you from spectres with countless clanging chains and myriads of moaning ghosts.”

“Stay close to me,” commanded Millicent.

“No need to ask me that.”

It was ridiculous to feel hurt by his light bantering with Millicent, but I did.

David was saying: “What a change! That carpenter is very good. He’ll have the place in fair order within a few weeks, I’ll swear.”

“Aunt Sophie is very eager to move in,” I said.

“Poor soul,” murmured Gwen Farringdon. “Such an affliction! It has affected her deeply, hasn’t it?”

Lady Pettigrew said briskly: “A great misfortune. But such trials must be faced and she is fortunate to have escaped from those dreadful French peasants. I hope she is suitably grateful to you.” She beamed approval on Jonathan. “Now she can build a future for herself and it is a mercy this house is so near Eversleigh.”

It had always amazed me how people like Lady Pettigrew made so little of the misfortunes of those about them, and I could not help wondering whether she would be quite so dismissive of her own.

We mounted the stairs and went into the minstrels’ gallery. Now that the heavy red curtains had been taken down for cleaning and renovation it had lost much of that mysterious look.

Jonathan came up behind Millicent and said: “Boo!”

She jumped and turned round smiling at him. “You’re determined to scare me.”

“And I did,” he said. “Admit it.”

“Not with all these people about me.”

“Ah, but if they hadn’t been here…” He was laughing at her.

“You mean if I had been here alone with you! That’s not likely, is it?”

“Alas!” he said, with mock resignation.

I thought: That is how he is. That is how he is with me… and with every woman.

We went along the corridors and he opened the door of that room in which we had made such passionate love.

“Much of the furniture was already here, I believe,” said Gwen Farringdon.

“It went with the house,” David told her.

“What a gift! It will not need such a great deal more.”

“This is a nice room. I like this,” said Millicent. She went to the bed and sat down on it; then she lifted her feet and lay full length on it.

“It’s quite comfortable,” she said.

“I feel sure of that,” murmured Jonathan; he caught my eye and the corner of his mouth twitched a little.

I did not feel like sharing the joke. To me it was no joke. It was deadly serious.

We went over the house and found ourselves in the kitchens, which were vast and stone-floored.

There was one moment when Jonathan and I were alone; the others had gone through the screens and he and I stood a little way in the hall.

He caught my hand and said: “This afternoon.”

I shook my head.

He came closer and kissed me. I wanted to protest but I did not. It appalled me that he still had the power to charm me.

I was glad when the tour of the house was over and we came out into the fresh air.

We walked back across the fields and everyone was talking about Enderby, what a fascinating house it was, and how fortunate Sophie had been to have such a bargain fall into her hands.

“It is a pity all French émigrés are not so fortunate,” said Lady Pettigrew.

“She was so lucky to get away with her jewels,” said Millicent.

“And her life,” added Lord Pettigrew.

“She has Jonathan to thank for that,” David reminded them.

“How wonderful!” said Millicent, smiling at Jonathan.

“Oh it was simple,” he said lightly. “We went over and we came out with Mademoiselle Sophie and her maid and the clever creature had sewed the jewels in their garments and didn’t tell me until we were crossing the Channel.”

“It’s no use your trying to pretend it wasn’t marvellous,” said Millicent sternly. “You are really very brave.”

“I am a very perfect gentle knight,” said Jonathan. “I deserve all your adulation, and most gratefully accept it… and shall probably beg for more. It is a commodity I have a great fancy for. You cannot give me too much of it.”

Millicent slipped her arm through his. She was a little forward, I supposed, for the manners of our day, but her mother showed no sign of disapproving, which told me that the redoubtable Lady Pettigrew smiled on Jonathan as a future son-in-law.

I was restless and uncertain. I wanted to see Jonathan alone. I wanted to tell him that there must be no more love-making between us. I wanted to ask him what his feelings were for Millicent Pettigrew, and if that state of bantering flirtation which seemed to exist between them had any meaning behind it.

I had said I would not be at the rendezvous that afternoon but I was making excuses to myself. I wanted to talk to him, I kept assuring myself. I wanted to stress that our dangerous relationship must cease.

Or did I merely want to be with him? Did I know in my heart that once we were alone in that room, once he held me close to him, I would give way as I had before?

I watched them go off riding. I said I had certain things to do and could not join them. Jonathan waved to me as he rode off. His plan was to lose them as quickly as he could, return to the stables and leave his horse there, for it would be dangerous to tether it outside the house where it could be seen. It would not take him long to hurry across the fields.

In spite of having promised myself not to go, I set out.

I must talk to him, I must, I kept saying to myself.

That was my excuse.

I was a few minutes early. I hesitated at the door. My inclination was to wait outside, but that was foolish. What if someone passed by and saw me waiting there? Still, I hesitated. Was I afraid of an old house? To show myself that I was not, I took the key from my pocket, opened the door and went in, shutting it behind me. When he came, Jonathan would ring the bell. It was a little rusty, but it worked.

I advanced into the hall. Certainly it had changed and the minstrels’ gallery without its curtains looked quite ordinary. I could not imagine any ghosts hiding there now. It was all a matter of shadows and darkness. How right David had been about those overgrown shrubs. They had not been dealt with yet and Sophie had indicated that they would only be trimmed, so she would still retain some of the old house’s atmosphere.

I ran up the stairs to that room which I looked upon as ours.

I stood in it and thought of the first time. It had happened so swiftly that it had caught me unaware, and then once it had happened I was trapped; and it had been so easy, having made the first step, to go on.

How silent the house was!

Hurry, Jonathan, I thought.

Then I heard that voice… that whisper, preceded by a little laugh, and then: “Mrs. Frenshaw… remember the seventh commandment, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

I stood there stunned. For some seconds I could not move. I was straining my ears listening. There was no sound… nothing but that frightening silence.

I ran out of the room and as I reached the stairs the door bell was clanging through the house. I ran down and opened the door.

Jonathan was there. He caught me in his arms. “What’s wrong? What is it, Claudine?”

“I heard it again,” I said. “The voice…”

“Voice? Where?”

“In the room. Our room.”

“There’s no one here…”

“I heard it. I heard it distinctly.”

“Come on. We’ll have a look,” he said.

He put his arm round me and I clung to him. We ran up the stairs.

There was no one there.

He looked at me puzzled. “What was it like?”

“It was the way it was before… Echoing… Strangely muted.”

“You mean as if someone were trying to disguise the voice?”

“I don’t know. It laughed after it had said it. ‘Remember the seventh commandment.’”

“What nonsense!”

“But it’s apt, isn’t it? The voice… it knows.”

“My dear Claudine, I simply do not believe in disembodied voices.”

“I tell you I heard it… distinctly. Just as I heard it before.”

“Then there is someone here.”

“But how could it be… in that room?”

“Is that the only place where you have heard this voice?”

I nodded.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to look.”

We went into all the rooms, up to the next floor and the attics. Then we went down through the hall to the kitchens. It was as I guessed it would be—empty.

We were the only ones in the house.

“Where are you?” shouted Jonathan. “You of the idiot voice. Come out and show yourself.”

His voice gave back a faint echo. Then the house was quiet. Not a sound. I looked up at the vaulted ceiling, at the stone walls, at the gallery.

“There’s nobody here,” said Jonathan.

“It’s haunted,” I insisted. “It’s something horrible… something from the past.”

“You don’t believe that really. There must be some explanation, a logical one.”

“What?”

“Someone is here… was here… someone playing a trick.”

“Someone who knows—about us.”

He admitted solemnly: “Yes, someone who knows about us. Or,” he added, “you imagined you heard the voice.”

“I heard it distinctly.”

“You don’t take this lightly, do you?”

“Take it lightly! No, I do not. But you do, Jonathan. That’s what I am beginning to understand.”

“Claudine, you are the most important thing in the world to me.”

I shook my head.

“You are a very conventional lady,” he said. “Brought up in that formal society, eh? It has always amused me, the rigorous formality of the French and the exploits they indulge in… in secret, of course. However, they brought you up that way, and now your conscience worries you. I am beginning to think that it was that which you heard.”

“In other words, you believe I imagined I heard voices.”

“Perhaps you did, Claudine.”

“I did not.”

“Then who? We’ve been round the house. No one is here but us. Who could have got in? You let yourself in with the key and shut the door. Is there any other key?”

I said suddenly: “The window. Of course. David and I looked round once. I told you about it. And we came through a window.”

“Where?”

“It was somewhere in the hall.” I crossed the stone floor with speed.

I said: “This is it. Look! The latch is broken. Anyone who knew could get in through it. It’s simple.”

He stood looking at me in dismay.

“So you think someone was in the house when you came in. But how could that person talk to you in that room? You would have heard whoever it was running down the stairs and out through the window wouldn’t you?”

“I should think so.”

“Claudine, you imagined it. That’s the only answer. You imagined it.”

“No. I know the difference between imagination and reality.”

“Sometimes we all have fancies.”

“I heard that voice,” I said firmly. “Do you realize what it means? Someone knows… about us.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re working yourself up, Claudine. Forget it. We’re here, aren’t we? I had the devil of a job to elude them.”

“Millicent clung, I daresay.”

“With a certain tenacity, I admit. But I was determined to be with you, so I escaped.”

“Jonathan, I want to go.”

“Go! Why, we’ve only just come.”

“I came to tell you that it has to stop.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me with that expression of mock exasperation.

“I can’t go on deceiving David. I’ve got to stop it. I’m going to try to forget that it ever happened. You must too.”

“Never,” he said. “Forget the most wonderful experience of my life! You are asking too much. Come, my dearest. There is not much time, you know.”

“No,” I insisted. “I can’t. I must go.”

He drew me to him, but this time I felt stronger. I kept seeing David’s face and remembering how much I loved him.

I said: “I’m going back to Eversleigh. I should never have come. Jonathan, I couldn’t bear it if ever David discovered. I want everything to stay as it was between us.”

“It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think. I only know that more than anything at the moment I want to get away from this house.”

“That silly old voice has unnerved you.”

“It has frightened me, Jonathan, and it has made me fully realize what I have done… to myself, to David and to you. I have betrayed my husband. You have betrayed your brother.”

“Darling Claudine, let’s drop the histrionics, shall we? I love you. I want you. I want you more than anything. Isn’t that good enough?”

“How can it be when I am your brother’s wife?”

“There you go again! I want you. You want me. We’ve had some wonderful times together. You’re a passionate woman, remember. You’ve wakened up. But you have this conscience that is bothering you. Everything is all right as long as we are careful.”

I could detect the faint irritation in his attitude. He had come to indulge his sexual desires and I was baulking him. I saw him then more clearly than I ever had and a terrible desolation swept over me. I had destroyed my marriage for a brief sensational excitement.

I had mistaken the shadow for the substance.

Desperately I wanted to go back; but how can one ever do that?

I turned and ran out of the house.

He came after me calling my name.

We stood outside together and I locked the door with trembling hands. I felt that I had locked out that part of my life.

Then I ran back to Eversleigh and all the time I was thinking: That voice… Whose voice? The voice of someone who knows my guilty secret.