Voices in a Haunted Room

The Suicide’s Grave

THE NEXT DAY DAVID came home from Clavering.

He was delighted to see me and I was filled with great tenderness towards him. I felt that having been so happy on the day of the royal wedding, I had been unfaithful to him. I wanted to make up to him because I was so fascinated by Jonathan.

It seemed to me that there was another barrier between us: the secret of Alberic’s death, which I could not stop myself thinking of as Alberic’s murder.

It was not as difficult to keep my secrets as I had imagined it would be. I seemed to have become adept at deception. But perhaps David was not as perceptive as his brother. I was sure I should never have been able to hide so much of myself from Jonathan.

I told him about the wedding and what my mother had told me about the ceremony. He said that the current rumour was that the Prince had been so intoxicated that he had spent the greater part of his wedding night lying in the fireplace of the bedchamber, whither he had fallen in a drunken stupor—and his bride had been content for him to stay there.

“It grows worse and worse,” I said. “We heard that he was about to refuse to go on with the ceremony and that he had to be persuaded to by his father.”

“How much truth is there in these stories?” he asked.

“My mother and your father seemed to have the impression that there was something in them.”

“And you? Were you disappointed to have no royal invitation?”

“Oh no. Jonathan and I went out riding. My mother insisted that he accompany me. They didn’t want me to go out alone on such a day.”

“I should think not. There would be rogues everywhere.”

“Yes. And we went to an inn called the Dog and Whistle near Greenwich, and there the host served us with the most excellent roast beef.”

“So it was a pleasant visit was it?”

“Oh yes.”

“And Jonathan immediately returned to London.”

“Yes. My mother does not know how long she will be there, and they wanted to bring me back so that I should be here when you returned.”

“Thoughtful of them.” He kissed me tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much… you and Amaryllis.”

I loved him, tenderly, dearly, steadfastly. So it is possible, I told myself, to love two people at the same time in different ways. To be with David was like taking a draught of crystal-clear water when one was thirsty. By the same analogy Jonathan was a sparkling intoxicating wine.

Was there something strange about me? If I looked right into my mind I had to admit that I wanted them both.

They were brothers… twin brothers. Could there be some explanation there? It was hard to imagine them as one person. They were so entirely different. And yet… I wanted them both.

“Well, we shall be having the wedding soon,” said David. “I daresay there’s a great deal of activity at the Pettigrews’ place.”

We talked about Amaryllis.

I spent a great deal of time in the nursery with her. The little girls were growing fast; they looked different every day. In the nursery I could have forgotten Jonathan if every time I looked at Amaryllis I did not have to think of him.

The day after David’s return a storm blew up. The wind howled at gale force and the rain beat horizontally on the windows. Nobody went out that day because it was almost impossible to stand up in the wind.

The next morning when we awoke it was quite calm. The birds were singing with joy and those flowers which had not been battened down looked fresh and beautiful; damp dripped from the trees, but when the sun rose they would be dried out.

It was a beautiful morning.

I said I would ride round the estate with David and he was delighted that I should join him. There was so much to catch up with, he said, after his being away at Clavering.

Just as we were about to leave, a messenger came from Jeanne. Would we please come over at once?

“Oh dear,” I said to David. “It’s going to spoil the morning. I wonder what it is now? Ride over with me. We need not stay long.”

I was trembling because I feared it might have something to do with Alberic, and if it were I should need David’s support.

We were met by a white-faced Jeanne. She came running out of the house and must have been watching for us.

“Oh Mrs. Frenshaw, Mr. Frenshaw, I am so glad you have come. A terrible thing has happened.”

“What?” I cried.

“It’s Alberic. They’ve found him.”

“Found him!” cried David. “Where has he been all this time?”

“He’s dead, Mr. Frenshaw. His body was washed up by the sea.”

“Drowned!”

Jeanne dropped her head and was silent for a few moments. I was trembling, wondering what was coming next.

“All this time,” murmured Jeanne, “and we were wondering where he was.”

“Drowned?” repeated David.

“Murdered,” Jeanne corrected him. “They said he’s been shot through the lungs. I don’t know what will happen now.”

“But who…” began David. “Just a minute. This is such a shock. I think my wife does not feel very well.”

He lifted me from my horse and kept his arm about me.

“It’s such a shock,” he said.

“Come into the house,” said Jeanne.

“Yes, I think we’d better, darling,” said David.

I sat in the cool hall and the faintness passed. So they would know now. What would they do? What would be the verdict as to what had happened to Alberic?

There was no talk of anything but Alberic’s death. It was impossible to escape from it. Rumour was rife. Who had killed Alberic? Poor innocent Alberic, who had done nothing wrong but to take out a boat for a little pleasure trip.

His friend Billy Grafter must have been with him, they said, since Billy had disappeared at the time Alberic came back from London.

There was an inquest. There was no doubt that Alberic had been shot at, although he had died by drowning. The verdict was murder against some person or persons unknown.

It was terrible to have to live with such a secret. I had nightmares and would awake crying in the night. David would hold me close to him soothingly and I wanted to be beside him, thankful for his presence.

In the morning I would try to reason with myself. Jonathan was right. The times were dangerous. I must remember what had happened to my mother and my grandmother, Zipporah. I could picture the latter going into the little town to shop in her splendid carriage with the d’Aubigné crest emblazoned on it, and coming out to the mob. Alberic’s death was a judicial killing. One should not look on it in a different light. It was logical. It was the law of survival.

During the day I could believe that. It was at night when the hideous dreams came.

Jonathan had come back to Eversleigh for the inquest.

I did not attend, but immediately it was over he sought an opportunity to be alone with me.

I said: “They will search for the one who killed him. Jonathan, what if—?”

He shook his head and smiled at me rather sardonically.

“They will talk of an enquiry. They will make a show of having one. But I can assure you that nothing will be revealed. That has been taken care of. It is for the country’s security, and that is understood in certain quarters.”

“It is all so… subversive.”

He laughed. “What did you expect? It is the very nature of the matter. How are you feeling now? You’ve not told anybody?”

I shook my head firmly.

“Not even David? He’d understand, of course. He’s always logical. But there is no point in people’s knowing when it is not necessary. I’m only sorry you had to see it.”

“What of Billy Grafter?” I asked.

“He got away. Never mind. We know what he looks like. He might provide a useful lead. And we know Léon Blanchard is—or has been—in London. I shall shortly be going to London again and when I come back I daresay Dickon and your mother will come with me.”

I put my hand to my head and said wearily: “I wish it would all end.”

“Poor Claudine! Life is very complicated, is it not?”

“I want mine to be simple… peaceful.”

“Oh come, you are too young for peace.” Then he kissed me briefly. “Au revoir, my love,” he said.

I was glad when he went. He added to my disturbed state of mind.

I went to see Aunt Sophie.

Jeanne greeted me. “She is in bed. She’s been poorly. This has upset her more than I would have believed possible.”

She certainly looked wan lying in her bed with the blue curtains drawn back.

“Oh, Claudine…” she said.

“Dear Aunt Sophie, you have been unwell, Jeanne tells me.”

“This is a house of mourning, Claudine,” she answered. Her fingers picked restlessly at the sheets. “Why is life always like this to me? Why is it that when I have a fondness for someone something like this happens?”

“There is always tragedy around us, Aunt Sophie.”

“For me, certainly,” she said.

“I’m sorry…”

“That poor boy, that poor innocent boy…”

Ah, Aunt Sophie, I thought, not so innocent. It is amazing how little we know of those with whom we live closely.

“What did he do? He only took out a boat… for a pleasure trip… and some wicked villain shot him. Can you understand it?” she demanded. “It doesn’t make sense,” she went on piteously.

“It is difficult to understand, Aunt Sophie. Why was he in the boat, do you think? Hadn’t he just returned from London? You thought he had gone back because he had forgotten something. But why should he have taken that moment to go out in the boat?”

“A whim,” she said. “People do have whims. His horse, Prince—how he loved to ride Prince!—found his way back to the stables. He must have ridden down on Prince to get to the sea.”

“Did you know he had a boat?”

“No. He never said. He and Billy Grafter must have acquired it between them. Poor boys… poor innocent boys.”

I said: “It seems rather odd that they should both have decided to go out then.”

But Aunt Sophie was not interested in why they had gone. All she cared about was her grief. I should not talk either. I should not set people speculating. Let it be thought that the young man, having been in London, was so eager for a breath of fresh air that he could not wait to take his boat out.

Aunt Sophie said: “Murdered! Cut off in the prime of his youth. He was a beautiful boy, bright and merry. It made me happy just to have him here.”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Sophie.”

“You, my child, what do you know of loneliness? You have your husband, your dear child… You are fortunate, whereas I…”

“But, Aunt Sophie, we’re here. We’re your family. My mother…”

“Your mother was always lucky. Fortune smiled on her. She had Charles de Tourville… and now this husband of hers who thinks such a lot of her. Oh, I know she’s beautiful and she has the sort of nature that people seem to like, but it’s so unfair, Claudine, so unfair. And just because this young man is pleasant and makes me laugh and I have enjoyed having him in my house, someone has to murder him.”

I looked helplessly at Jeanne, who lifted her shoulders. I supposed she had to endure a great deal of Aunt Sophie’s self-pity.

Sophie was looking straight at me. “I shan’t rest until I know who killed him. And when I do, I’d kill him… I would.”

“Oh, Aunt Sophie…”

“Please don’t try to soothe me. I will not be soothed. I lie here, Claudine, and the only thing I have left to me is my hatred… my desire for revenge. When I know who killed Alberic, I will find a way of getting even with him.”

I could not suppress a shiver. She looked hardly sane with the fanatical light in her eyes, and her hood had fallen back. I could just catch a glimpse of the wrinkled scorched skin which she took such pains to hide. The unusual colour in her face accentuated it.

I felt an overwhelming pity and terrible fear, because somewhere in my mind was the terrible conviction that if she knew what had happened she would call me his murderer. True I had not fired the shot, yet but for me it would not have been fired. No one would have known of Alberic’s secret life but for me, and he would now be charming Aunt Sophie and working for his country against ours.

I said I would have to go. I kissed Aunt Sophie and she gripped my hands.

“If ever you should discover anything,” she said, “let me know. I am determined to find Alberic’s murderer.”

Jeanne walked downstairs with me.

“That is how she is, most of the time,” she said. “Sometimes I think it is a good thing to let her go on about it. While she is thinking of revenge she is not brooding on his death.”

I shook my head, and Jeanne went on: “She will grow calmer. She will accept his loss, for perforce she must.”

I went slowly back to Eversleigh.

By the end of May the death of Alberic had become a nine-days’ wonder. At first people had expected startling revelations. There were rumours of Alberic’s having enemies in the neighbourhood; there were even suspects, though it was hard to imagine who would have wanted to kill such an amiable young man. The weeks passed and nothing happened. People watched out for Billy Grafter’s body to be washed up and there was even a wild story in circulation that he had been found on the beach riddled with bullets. This persisted for two weeks and then died down. I think people gradually began to accept that Alberic’s murder would never be solved and that Billy Grafter had been with him and they had drowned together.

My mother came to my room on her first night back from London.

“You must not let this upset you,” she said. “It had to be. He was a spy. We cannot afford to let them go… however pleasant they may appear to be. Believe me, Claudine, I’ve been in the thick of it. I’ve seen Armand come back scarcely alive after his sojourn in the Bastille… put there by spies. You can say that killed him. Then there was my mother. I never forget that, and what they would have done to me but for Dickon. Living through that does something to you. It makes you understand that enemies of the state have to be eliminated, and if it can be quick—as it was with Alberic—that is the best way. I am only sorry that you were there when it happened.”

“It was my fault. Jonathan asked me to stay behind but I went.”

“And you saw it, and it upset you. You don’t blame Jonathan, I hope. He was doing what had to be done.”

“I see all that,” I said. “I just wish it hadn’t had to happen.”

“My dear girl, that’s what we all wish. We’ve got to forget this. David says you have nightmares. It’s that, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“Such a pity. But you’ve got to grow away from it. It was like that with me… after that night in the mairie with the mob screaming for my blood outside. It comes back even now. Sometimes I dream. One can’t come through these experiences unscathed. There is only one thing to do… grow away from them… that is, accept them as a necessary part of the world we live in.”

“You are right, of course. Dear Maman, I will try. I will think of what they tried to do to you. I will think of my grandmother… and then I will see that it has to be.”

She smiled. “And now,” she said, “there is the wedding. I’ve such a lot to talk to you about concerning that. For one thing, I don’t think we should take the babies.”

“No. I was thinking of that.”

“Grace Soper is quite capable of taking charge.”

“She does in any case.”

“She adores them both and they love her too. They would miss their nursery. I don’t fancy the journey with them. Then of course they would be in a strange place… and after all we shall only be away for a few days.”

I agreed with her.

Then we talked about clothes and all the time I was thinking about Jonathan and Millicent taking their vows—which he would never keep. I wondered if she would.

The wedding was to take place on the first of June. A few days before, our party set out for Pettigrew Hall, which was on the way to London—in fact it was about midway between the City and Eversleigh.

My mother and I rode in the carriage with Mary Lee, my mother’s lady’s maid, who would look after us both, and with us were the trunks containing our clothes and anything we should need. David and Dickon went on horseback and we were easily able to make the journey in a day, having set out very early and arriving at Pettigrew Hall at six in the evening.

We were warmly welcomed by Lord and Lady Pettigrew. Jonathan was already there.

Pettigrew Hall was more modern than Eversleigh. It had been erected just over a hundred years before when the great hall was no longer the centre of the house, and was a squarish solid stone edifice built round a court; and the kitchens, buttery and pantry were all underground. A magnificent staircase, which went to the top of the house, wound round a well as it went, so that from the very top landing one could look right down into the hall.

The drawing room was on the ground floor and it had glass doors through which the very beautiful gardens could be seen. The dining room, which was also downstairs, had similar views; and there were many bedrooms. The servants’ quarters were in the attic at the top of the house. It was richly furnished and there were several specimens of the Gobelin tapestry which had begun to be manufactured in France about a hundred years before and soon found its way into English country houses.

Lady Pettigrew’s taste seemed to me a little flamboyant; she had scattered pieces of marquetry all over the house; the hangings of the beds and the curtains were in the richest colours; and some of the ceilings had been painted with allegorical scenes. It was as though she wished to proclaim her importance to the world in everything she did—so naturally it would be obvious in her home.

The room I was to share with David was next to that assigned to my mother and Dickon. They were large and lighter than our Elizabethan ones and I thought them charming with their tall windows and marble fireplaces.

There would be several people staying at the Hall for the wedding. The Farringdons were of course there, being great friends of the Pettigrews; and Lady Pettigrew told us as she came up with us to show us our rooms—a very gracious gesture from such a grand lady and one which showed us how delighted she was to have us—that she was eager for us to meet the Brownings. They were such charming people and she was sure we were going to enjoy the company of Sir George and his wife Christine and their truly charming daughter Fiona.

David said when we were alone: “She is indeed an overpowering lady, and I fancy her daughter takes after her. But I don’t think she will be able to subdue Jonathan as Lady Pettigrew does his lordship.”

“I am sure,” I replied, “that Jonathan will know how to look after himself.”

“Oh yes. You can trust Jonathan for that.”

It was to be a grand wedding. Lord Pettigrew was very influential in banking and, I suspect, political circles; and that meant that the marriage of his daughter was an event of more than usual importance. And as Dickon held great sway in the same society there would be many people who would want to attend the wedding.

The ceremony was to take place in the village church in the morning, after which all the guests would return to Pettigrew Hall for the reception. Many would come down from London as well as from the surrounding country. Ourselves and the Farringdons and Brownings were the only house guests—though perhaps one or two might stay for one night, as Lady Pettigrew did not want them to leave too early after the reception.

When we went down to dinner that night we were greeted by the Farringdons—Gwen, John and Harry—and George and Christine Browning and their daughter Fiona, who was very pretty and about eighteen I should imagine.

“Are we all assembled?” said Lady Pettigrew, bearing down on us. “Let us go in to dinner. I daresay you are all ready for it. Travelling is so exhausting. I am glad you are staying with us and not popping in and out as I fear so many of the guests will be doing. How could it be otherwise? So many people want to see my daughter married.”

John Farringdon murmured that it was indeed a happy occasion.

“And none the less so because we have had to wait a long time for it,” added Gwen.

“Oh circumstances… circumstances…” cried Lady Pettigrew, waving her hand as though to dismiss these tiresome eventualities. She was of course referring to the death of Sabrina on account of which the wedding had been delayed. “Now let’s go in. George, will you take Gwen, and John, Christine. Now, Jonathan, I am going to make you very cross. You are not to take Millicent. David shall take her and you can take Claudine.”

I felt that ridiculous emotion as I slipped my arm through his. He gave me a one-sided grin and in some way I felt that we were conspirators.

I whispered: “I’m sorry to be the reason for making you cross.”

He laid his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. “Just a brief contact such as this sends me into paradise,” he said.

I laughed softly. “Ridiculous as ever… even on the eve of your wedding.”

I was seated next to him. Millicent was opposite next to David. Lady Pettigrew at one end of the table surveyed us all as a general might his officers while she also kept her eyes on other ranks serving from the kitchens. I noticed Lord Pettigrew, from the other end of the table, watching her with a mixture of exasperation and tenderness. I thought: He is very different from Jonathan; and it occurred to me that if Millicent became more and more like her mother as the years passed, Jonathan’s marriage might be a stormy affair.

There was a buzz of conversation as neighbours whispered together, but Lady Pettigrew was the sort of woman who could not bear her command to slip even for a moment and she liked to know everything that was being discussed, and such was her forceful personality, that the conversation soon became general.

It was not long before the subject of the war in Europe cropped up and in particular the successes which Napoleon Bonaparte was achieving all over Europe.

I noticed that Harry Farringdon, who was seated next to Fiona Browning, appeared to be rather taken with her, and I felt a little qualm of uneasiness as I remembered Evie Mather.

I had not seen Evie for some time. She had been at Aunt Sophie’s once or twice with her sister, and I wondered now about her. Mrs. Trent had been so anxious that something should come of her friendship with Harry Farringdon, and Mrs. Trent was, in her way, as forceful a woman as Lady Pettigrew, and the manner in which Harry was paying attention to Fiona Browning indicated that Evie’s might be a lost cause.

“The Reverend Pollick is determined that there shall be no hitch,” Lady Pettigrew was booming from the head of the table. “He is a man who takes his duties very seriously and for that we applaud him, do we not, Henry?” Lord Pettigrew murmured agreement. “He insists on a rehearsal. So tomorrow it is going to take place. It won’t be necessary for everyone to attend… only the principals of course. But if any of you would like to step into the church, I think you might find it interesting.”

Everyone at the table declared they would not miss it for anything.

“Such a fussy little man, the Reverend gentleman. Mind you, he always remembers that he owes his living to us, and I suppose, understandably, he’ll look upon this wedding as his personal triumph.”

There was talk then about previous weddings and Lady Pettigrew went on: “Your turn next, Harry.” At which everyone all lifted their glass to Harry Farringdon and I noticed that Fiona Browning had turned quite pink.

We left the men with their port while Lady Pettigrew led her battalion to the drawing room, where she held forth on the blessings of marriage, and how happy she was to see Millicent joined in matrimony to a man of her parents’ choice.

“They have been lovers from childhood,” she said indulgently. “Isn’t that so, Millicent?”

“We have known each other since we were children.”

“That’s what I’m saying. And this, of course, has been in our minds since they were tots.”

I asked Fiona where she lived and I wondered why I had not met her before.

“We have only been in the south of England for two years,” she told me. “We come from the north.”

“That is why we have never met.”

“My father has estates in Yorkshire and he now has an interest in breeding sheep in Kent. He has bought a place on the Essex borders. He always went to London a good deal, but it was a long journey. It is so much easier for him to get up there now.”

“You like it here?”

“Oh yes.”

Gwen Farringdon leaned forward. “We have taken them under our wing,” she said with a smile. “We have become great friends.”

So, I thought, the Farringdons approve of Fiona as a future daughter-in-law. Another nail in the coffin of Evie’s aspirations.

Millicent said that she and Jonathan were going to London immediately after the wedding. They planned to spend the honeymoon near Maidenhead. “The Grenfells… You know Sir Michael and Lady Grenfell… they have offered us their place for the honeymoon, but Jonathan wants to be in London. Of course, I should have liked to go abroad. We’ve talked of Italy… Venice…”

I felt myself go cold and heard myself say: “Floating down the canals while a gondolier sings Italian love songs.”

Millicent gave her rather shrill laugh.

“That’s exactly it,” she said.

“Never mind,” said Lady Pettigrew. “We’ll soon defeat those wretched foreigners.”

“It looks as though the French are being successful all over Europe as they were saying earlier,” I said.

“Oh, it is this miserable Bonaparte or whatever his name is. What they should do is get him. That would soon stop them. It’s absurd… Those wretched revolutionaries allowed to overrun Europe. I can’t think what they are doing.”

I said, not without irony: “They should make you generalissima, Lady Pettigrew.”

Everyone applauded and Lady Pettigrew seemed modestly to agree that it would be an excellent idea.

The men joined us. David came over and sat beside me. Jonathan was engaged in conversation with Lord Pettigrew and Dickon. I saw Fiona smile rather tremulously at Harry.

I whispered to David: “We shall soon be able to retire. I’m tired.”

“Yes. Journeys are so exhausting.”

My mother joined us. “You look a little tired, Claudine,” she said anxiously.

I guessed that I must have looked strained. I found the situation an uneasy one. Jonathan’s cynical marriage to Millicent, and in the background of my mind was the thought of Evie Mather’s melancholy.

“I think I will suggest to Lady Pettigrew that we go to bed,” said my mother.

She did and it seemed that the others had the same idea, for after good nights were said the company broke up.

I sat brushing my hair at the mirror and from the bed David watched me.

He said: “What do you think of it… Jonathan and Millicent?”

“Oh, it’s the perfect marriage, isn’t it—uniting the family interests?”

“But that is not really what marriage is about, is it?”

“I should imagine that it is exactly what quite a number of them are about.”

“Millicent seems contented enough, and so for that matter does Jonathan.”

“David, did you notice Harry Farringdon?”

“You mean with that girl, Fiona Browning?”

“Yes.”

“H’m,” said David. “He seems to have taken a fancy to her.”

“Do you remember how he was with Evie Mather?”

“I remember… yes.”

“I thought something might come of that.”

“Marriage, you mean?”

“Well, I am sure that was what Mrs. Trent hoped for.”

“I’ve no doubt she did. Evie won’t have much coming to her and the Farringdons are rich.”

“I’m sorry. Poor Evie. She’s a nice girl. And now it looks as though Fiona Browning…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that. Harry never seems to be able to make up his mind. There have been many girls like that in his life. I’ve seen it happen before. It’s serious… while it lasts… but it doesn’t last and some other charmer comes along. Harry will need a big push into matrimony. He’s that sort.” He yawned. “Come on. I’m getting sleepy.”

I blew out the candle and got in beside him.

David did not go to the rehearsal; nor did Dickon. I sat with Gwen Farringdon at the back. Fiona came in late and sat with Harry close by.

Lady Pettigrew was in command and it was amusing to see her hawklike eyes on the Reverend Mark Pollick, who had a will of his own and was very definite as to how matters should be conducted in his own church.

Lord Pettigrew walked in with Millicent on his arm. I saw Jonathan rise and they stood before the Reverend Mark with Lady Pettigrew audibly commanding Millicent to stand up straight and speak up.

It was really rather funny and as my mother said, unnecessary.

The music, chosen by Lady Pettigrew, was very stirring. The choir had been assembled to sing the anthem, and as the music filled the little church, I saw Harry Farringdon take Fiona’s hand and they turned their faces towards each other and smiled.

I thought: It is all over for you, Evie.

And I wondered how deeply she had felt for him. Evie was not a girl who betrayed her feelings. There was something secretive about her—just as there was about her sister.

Evie might have been more realistic than her grandmother and could have known that the Farringdons would not willingly have agreed to a match between her and Harry; and yet on the other hand, if Harry had been sufficiently in love, I was sure John and Gwen could have been persuaded to give way to his wishes. Now he was behaving with Fiona as, not long ago, he had with Evie.

We went back to the house, all talking about the wedding rehearsal and saying how beautiful the music was. Lady Pettigrew exuded satisfaction, so I presumed she was sure everything was as it should be.

When we were at dinner that evening Lady Pettigrew said she had something to tell us, and she thought this was the moment to make the announcement.

“A little bird has whispered to me,” she began in a somewhat coy manner quite alien to her usual forceful utterances, “that we have a matter to celebrate.”

There were exclamations of surprise at the table.

“Fiona and Harry… My dears. God bless you both. You have guessed. Fiona and Harry have become engaged to be married. Is that not charming? I know John and Gwen are absolutely delighted and so are Fiona’s parents, because they have all told me so. Dear Fiona, your happiness… and yours too, Harry, but that goes without saying… for what is Fiona’s will now be yours… and yours hers.”

All raised their glass and Harry and Fiona sat close together, their hands clasped, looking faintly embarrassed but undoubtedly happy.

“It seems that weddings are infectious,” said Dickon.

“It must have been that lovely ceremony in the church which made them feel they wanted it to happen to them,” said my mother.

Then once more everyone drank the health of Fiona and Harry.

Afterwards when I was in the drawing room with the ladies while the men were drinking their port at the table, I found myself next to Gwen Farringdon, who was looking very pleased.

She whispered to me: “I’m so glad. Fiona is such a charming girl. And we like the family. There was one time when I was very much afraid…”

“Afraid?”

She came a little closer. “Oh, you remember, there was that girl he rather liked. She was most unsuitable. She had that dreadful grandmother.”

“You mean Evie Mather.”

“That’s right. John and I were afraid… but then Harry’s not the sort to rush into anything, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Well, that was all a long time ago, but we did have some qualms, I can tell you. However, all’s well that ends well.”

Millicent joined us. “What are you two whispering about?”

“We were talking of weddings,” I said.

“Seeing how happy you and Jonathan are has had its effect on Harry,” said Gwen.

“Sent him flying into an engagement, I see,” said Millicent. “It’s very satisfactory. The Brownings are the right sort.”

“Absolutely. John and I are delighted… just like your parents.”

“And now all we have to do is live happily ever after,” commented Millicent.

I could not sleep that night. Tomorrow was the wedding day. I kept thinking of Jonathan and wondering whether anything would happen at the last minute to stop his marriage to Millicent.

What nonsense! As if it would! He wanted this marriage as much as the Pettigrews did. Dickon wanted it. It was the way they managed their affairs.

That night I said to David: “I’m surprised your father allowed you to marry me.”

“What?” cried David.

“I brought you nothing. Everything we had was lost in France. How strange that he should raise no objections to our marriage.”

David laughed. “If he had, it would have happened just the same.”

“What if you had been cut off with a shilling!”

“I’d rather have you and a shilling than Eversleigh.”

“That’s a pleasant note to retire on,” I said.

But I kept thinking about Jonathan, who would be Millicent’s husband tomorrow—and I could not entirely forget Evie Mather.

Jonathan and Millicent were married on the following day. The ceremony passed without a hitch. Millicent looked beautiful in her white satin gown with the Pettigrew pearls about her neck and Jonathan was a very handsome bridegroom.

We went back for the reception and during it Lord Pettigrew made a speech in which he formally announced the engagement of Harry Farringdon to Fiona Browning.

Toasts were drunk, more speeches made, and Jonathan and Millicent left for London. The guests who had come for the day began to leave and only those staying in the house remained.

It had been a wonderful wedding, everyone proclaimed; and now that the bride and groom had disappeared, there seemed little reason to continue the rejoicing.

My mother said we should go the next day. She hated to leave Jessica long, and I certainly felt the same about Amaryllis.

When I went to my room I found Mary Lee putting my things together; she told me my mother had sent her to do what she could for me.

“There’s very little, Mary,” I said. “I can manage.”

She went on folding my things.

“I shall be glad to get back,” I said.

“Yes, Madam. To see the little babies.”

“They’ll soon be old enough to travel with us.”

“The wedding was beautiful, wasn’t it, Madam?”

I nodded. I could not bring myself to speak of it. Beautiful! Jonathan so cynical… realistic, he would say; and Millicent, was she the same? I think there was a little more to it for Millicent. In spite of her rather worldly approach and an attitude which might have indicated indifference, I had caught a gleam in her eyes as they rested on Jonathan. He was an extremely attractive man. Was it possible that he had found a way to Millicent’s heart which I had thought must be a replica of her mother’s, only to be softened by conquest and material advantage?

“And what a surprise about Mr. Harry and Miss Fiona.”

“Yes, it was.”

“They talk downstairs,” she said. “They say Mr. Harry was one for shilly-shallying. He never seemed to be able to make up his mind.”

“Well, he has now, Mary.”

“Madam, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s about Miss Mather at Grasslands. At one time we thought… well, we all thought something was coming of that.”

“Well, we were wrong, Mary.”

“I wonder… what Miss Mather will think…”

It was what I had been wondering about. However, I changed the subject and said that I could well manage the rest, which was dismissal, and Mary was too well trained a maid not to realize that.

We returned to Eversleigh the day after the wedding.

My mother and I went straight to the nursery, where we were delighted to find that all was well in the good hands of Grace Soper.

We played with the babies and marvelled at the manner in which they had grown, and delighted in their intelligence, which we were sure was more than that of normal children.

Yes, it was good to be home, and I wished, as I had so many times, that my life was less complicated—as it would have been if Jonathan had never intruded into it.

Try as I might I could not forget him and he was often in my thoughts. I wondered about Millicent and wondered whether she was going to be bitterly hurt. I had always felt that she was a young woman who could take good care of herself; but when I thought of that potent charm of Jonathan’s—so like that which had brought his father so many conquests and what he wanted in life—I did wonder.

I tried to interest myself more in David’s ways. We read together and talked for hours on our favourite subjects; he taught me a little archaeology and again we still discussed the possibility of going to Italy when the war was over.

I made a habit of riding round the estate with him. I wanted to know all that was happening; I wanted to share his life and atone for my infidelity. That was not possible, but I could try.

I went to see Aunt Sophie to tell her about Jonathan’s wedding. She scarcely ever left her room, Jeanne told me. “Alberic’s death is a terrible setback for her.”

“Is she still brooding on it?”

“She mentions it every day. She gets quite angry about wanton murderers being allowed to escape justice.”

“Shall I go and see her?”

“Yes, do go up. She likes to see you—although she doesn’t always seem welcoming. Dolly Mather is with her now.”

“Is she here often?”

“Oh yes. She’s always been about. You know Mademoiselle d’Aubigné has taken a great liking to her. She is so sorry for her.”

“I understand that.”

“And I’m glad. The girl cheers her a good deal.”

“Jeanne,” I asked, “have you seen anything of her sister, Evie?”

“No, I have not. She used to come here sometimes with Dolly, but Mademoiselle never cared for her in the same way. No, I can’t say I have seen Evie lately.”

“I’ll go up.

Aunt Sophie was seated in a chair which had been placed by the bed; she wore a long mauve dressing gown with a hood of the same colour to hide the damaged side of her face.

I went to her and kissed her. I smiled at Dolly. “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you,” said Dolly quietly.

“That’s good. I’ve come to tell you about the wedding, Aunt Sophie.”

“Get a chair for Mrs. Frenshaw, Dolly,” said Aunt Sophie, and Dolly immediately obeyed.

I described the rehearsal and the wedding reception. Dolly listened intently, her eyes never leaving my face. I always felt a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and I often avoided looking at her, for I found my eyes unconsciously resting on that strangely drawn-down eye.

“A great deal of excitement, I am sure,” said Aunt Sophie. “You didn’t hear anything while you were away, I suppose?”

“Hear anything? You mean about the war? They talk about little else.”

“I meant about Alberic.”

“Why, Aunt Sophie…”

“I mean about finding his murderer. It is a sorry state of affairs when innocent people are shot at and drowned and nothing is done about it.”

“I think they tried…”

“Tried! They don’t care. They thought he was just a poor émigré. But one day I am going to find out who murdered him… and when I do…”

She paused and I wanted to say: Yes, Aunt Sophie, what will you do? What would you do if you knew the truth?

She said: “I would kill the one who murdered that poor innocent boy. Yes, I would… with my own hands.”

She looked down at her hands as she spoke, long, tapering fingers, very pale, the hands of one who has never in the slightest way laboured physically.

Poor Aunt Sophie, she looked so defenceless… tired and old, except for the shine in her eyes and the determination in her voice.

“Oh yes,” she went on, “nothing would deter me. And I shan’t rest until those who did this wicked thing are brought to justice.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “It is someone here… someone close to us… Think of it! We have a murderer in our midst… and I shall not rest until I have found that murderer.”

“Aunt Sophie, you must not upset yourself. It is bad for you.”

“Bad for me! What is good for me? To lose the people I am fond of? To have them taken from me… wickedly done to death?”

“There is much that we do not know,” I said.

“This I know,” she said: “Wicked murder has been done… and if no one else will bring that murderer to justice, I will.”

“But Aunt Sophie…”

“You think I’m talking nonsense, don’t you? But I know something of what goes on here. I have my friends.”

Jeanne had come into the room.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” she said, “you must not excite yourself.”

“Oh Jeanne…” For a moment Sophie leaned against Jeanne. “It is such a wicked world, and I have only to love someone and that is disaster for me… for them.”

“No, no,” said Jeanne. “That is not so. There is much that is good.”

Jeanne nodded to me over Sophie’s head, indicating that I should leave.

I rose and said: “Well, Aunt Sophie, I must go. I’ll come in again and see you later.”

Jeanne came after me.

She said: “It’s this obsession. She was like that when… You remember that tutor, when he went away: She thought fate was against her then and she never believed the things they said about him. She thought it was a conspiracy to take him from her. She was so much better—and then this has to happen with Alberic. She works herself into it. I don’t like it. It’s going right back and I thought she was much better when we came to Enderby.”

“We are so thankful that you are here to look after her.”

“I always shall be until God takes one of us away to another world. I wish they could solve that mystery. I think that would help a lot. If they could find the man who shot him… and if he were brought to justice, I really feel she would begin to grow away from it.”

I rode sadly back to Eversleigh.

July had come in rather sultry. I had not seen Jonathan since his wedding. He had remained in London and he and Millicent might have spent a week or so at the Grenfells’ house in Maidenhead.

One morning I decided to go with David, who was proposing to look at some cottages which were in need of repair.

It was a dull morning—a trifle misty but it would be hot when the mist cleared. The woods were looking beautiful now. I glimpsed foxgloves in the glades between the trees and the poppies made a dash of scarlet against the gold of the corn.

When Jonathan was away I could forget the past for hours at a time—and then I think I was really happy.

David was talking now about the possibility of several of the cottages needing repairs to the roofs.

“It was the same at Clavering,” he was saying. “I set all that in motion there. It looks as though there’ll be a similar problem at Eversleigh. You ought to have come to Clavering with me. When Amaryllis gets a little older we’ll all go. Gerrand’s an excellent manager, but I do think we should put in an appearance more often.”

“Dickon never goes now,” I said.

“Well, no, but he keeps an eye on things though. He always goes through accounts and that sort of thing himself… as he does here. But I have always felt his main interest was in London.”

“Secret matters?”

“I’m glad not to be involved in that.”

“I am glad too. It is better so…”

“Much more suited to Jonathan. In fact we both fitted into our different niches very satisfactorily… don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do, and I’m glad you got this particular niche.”

“The best thing I ever got was you, Claudine.”

Was it? I wondered. If you knew everything, would you really think that? And the weight of my sin enveloped me and spoilt the beauty of the morning.

“I want to go and have a look at Lammings Bridge,” said David. “I thought it was a little shaky yesterday. It may need propping up a little.”

“It would be disastrous if it collapsed while someone was riding over it.”

“Yes, the river is fairly deep at that point. It could be dangerous. We’ll just call at the cottage first and tell them I’m sending a thatcher along to look at the roofs. There might be other things that need attention.”

I knew it was David’s policy to talk to tenants and explain what was going on, and that made it easy for them to bring their troubles to him. I realized afresh that morning what an ideal relationship he had established with the tenants. It could never have been the same when Eversleigh was Dickon’s main concern. I think they must all have been afraid of him.

I was proud of David and my spirits rose again.

Yes, I was happy. I thought, as I had a thousand times before: I must never make him unhappy. I owe that to him, and the only way I can make sure of that is by keeping my secret.

“We mustn’t forget the bridge,” said David.

“Come on then.”

There it was—Lammings Bridge, named, so I believed, after the man who had built it more than a hundred years ago. It was small wonder that it was in need of repair since it had stood the stress of weather and traffic all that time.

We dismounted and tethered our horses to some bushes on the bank. David prodded the wood.

“Yes,” he said, “it’s a little broken here. Can easily be patched up though, I think. Oh, not a great deal to be done… if taken in hand quickly.”

I leaned on the parapet and surveyed the scene. It was very peaceful with weeping willows trailing into the water and loosestrife giving a touch of purple to the banks. Then I saw something in the water. I stared. It looked like a woman.

“David,” I called shrilly.

He was at my side immediately.

“Look!” I cried. “What’s that? Over there?”

“Oh God…” he murmured under his breath. Then we ran across the bridge and down to the riverbank.

I shall never forget that moment. She lay there, white and still; she appeared to be smiling… peacefully. She was beautiful. Oh poor, unhappy Evie!

David brought her out of the water and laid her on the bank.

He said: “She’s been dead for hours. Poor… poor child. What could have made her?”

We looked at each other in horror, and though we did not speak, we were thinking of Harry Farringdon.

“There’s nothing we can do for her,” said David. “We’ll have to get the doctor and some conveyance.”

“Oh what a terrible tragedy,” I said. “Poor Evie… and poor Mrs. Trent… and Dolly.”

Soberly we rode back.

What followed was terrible. We were all shattered. She had been such a gentle, pleasant girl, so pretty too. It was tragic to realize that she was dead. I kept thinking of her smiling in her quiet way with Harry Farringdon.

She must really have cared for him. The news of his engagement would have been brought to her. Mary Lee would have talked to the servants of Eversleigh and they would have carried the news to those of Grasslands.

What a cruel fate! She must have thought he was serious in his affections for her; she had clearly loved him, and when he became engaged to someone else, found life unbearable.

I wondered what was happening at Grasslands. I wondered whether to go over and see, but was unsure. Evie had met Harry Farringdon under our roof. It was no fault of ours, but Mrs. Trent would be distracted. She would blame us perhaps.

There were startling revelations to come.

Evie Mather was pregnant and had been so for the last three months.

This was worse than ever. Poor girl! Why had she not talked to someone? My mother would have done anything to help her and so would I. David certainly would… even Dickon. He was always lenient with that sort of predicament.

But she had kept it to herself. I could imagine the devastating effect this was going to have on that household.

People spoke of it in hushed whispers. In the servants’ hall I was sure they spoke of nothing else.

I felt I must go and see Mrs. Trent because there was a special sort of relationship between us since she had told me that Evie was connected with our family, as Richard Mather had been truly Dickon’s son.

It was with great trepidation that I called.

I had not told David or my mother that I was going, for I felt sure they would try to dissuade me. Indeed I should have needed little dissuasion, for I was very unsure whether I should be welcome.

The curtains were all drawn across the windows. The door was opened by a servant who took me into a little room which led from the hall. She said she would tell Mrs. Trent that I had come.

After a while Dolly came in. Her face was distorted by grief and her eyes seemed more awry than ever.

“Oh, Dolly,” I said, “I’m so terribly sorry. This is heartbreaking.”

Her lips quivered. “She’s gone. Our Evie… gone forever. I shall never see her again.”

“Oh Dolly.” I was crying with her.

“There wasn’t any need,” said Dolly. “She would have been all right.”

“We would have taken care of her,” I said.

“I would have taken care of her… and the little baby as well.”

I nodded. “How is your grandmother taking it?”

“She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t sleep. She thought the world of Evie.”

“I know. I would have come. My mother would have come, but we were not sure whether she would wish to see us… just yet.”

“Yes, she wants to see you.”

“I would like to comfort her. I wish I knew how.”

“There’s no comfort,” said Dolly, “or not much. But she wants to see you.”

“Is she in bed?”

“She’s up there. She doesn’t seem to know where she is.”

“Shall I go up?”

“Yes. I’ll take you.”

Mrs. Trent came out of her bedroom and we went into a small dressing room. There were two chairs in it and we sat down. Dolly stood by the door. Mrs. Trent was wearing a grey dressing gown which she must have slipped over her nightdress. Her face was blotched with weeping and her eyes swollen. She did not look like the perky Mrs. Trent we had known.

I took both her hands in mine and on impulse kissed her cheek.

“Oh, Mrs. Trent, I am so sorry. We are all so distressed.”

She nodded, too emotional to speak.

“If only we could have known… we could have done something,” I said.

“I’d like to murder him,” she muttered, coming to life. “I’d take him to that river and I’d hold his head down and not let him go until he was dead… as she is.”

“I understand how you feel.”

“She couldn’t face it, you see. She couldn’t face me. I shouldn’t have made her feel like that. She ought to have been able to come to me in trouble.”

“You mustn’t say that, Mrs. Trent. I know you would always have done anything for her.”

“I would and all… but she knew how I’d set my heart on her doing well. I’ve gone wrong somewhere.”

“You always did your best, Mrs. Trent. None could say other than that. You must not blame yourself.”

“I blame him,” she said fiercely. “The dirty swine! He deceived her, he did… promised he’d marry her and when this happens it’s goodbye and he goes off to marry a real lady. She was a real lady, my Evie was.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Trent.”

She clenched her hands together and I knew she was imagining them round the throat of Harry Farringdon.

“And now there’s this Reverend gentleman… the vicar. He won’t take my Evie. He says the likes of her can’t be buried among decent folks.”

“No, Mrs. Trent!”

“Yes. He says suicides can’t be buried in consecrated ground. They will put her at the crossroads. They’ll give her the suicide’s grave. I just can’t bear that… not for my little Evie.”

“Something will have to be done about that.”

She looked at me with hope in her eyes.

“I’ll go and see the Reverend Manning. Or my husband will. Don’t worry about that, Mrs. Trent. Evie is going to be buried properly. There must be no doubt about that.”

“It’s kind of you… and it’s her due. You know who she is. It’s different I suppose with the gentry. No one would think of putting them anywhere but in a proper grave.”

I was glad that there was something I could do, something which would relieve her, even though nothing could ever bring Evie back. I said: “I will go along to the vicarage now and see him. Don’t worry, Mrs. Trent. I am sure it will be all right.”

“Thank you,” she said; and there was that glint of determination in her eyes which I had noticed before her grief had descended upon her and made her a pathetic shadow of what she had been. “It’s her due,” she said with a certain firmness.

Dolly conducted me to the door.

“Goodbye,” I said. “I will do everything I can.”

I went straight to the vicarage. It was not as easy as I had thought it would be.

The Reverend Richard Manning was the kind of man I disliked on sight. He was pompous, self-righteous, and I was sure completely lacking in compassion and imagination.

We saw little of him for the living did not belong to Eversleigh. The family had always had its own chapel and although nowadays we did not have a priest living in the house, there was one who had a small place on the estate and whose duty it was to officiate when needed. He came every morning to conduct prayers for the household.

Therefore the family had no jurisdiction over the Reverend Richard Manning.

I told him that I was concerned about the burial of Evie Mather.

“The suicide,” he said, and I immediately felt a sense of outrage at the cold and precise tone of his voice, and to hear Evie spoken of in that way.

“Her grandmother is very distressed because you are denying her normal burial.”

“I have said that according to the laws of the Church she cannot be buried in consecrated ground.”

“Why not?”

He looked surprised. “Because she has offended against the laws of God. She has committed the sin of inflicting death on a human being.”

“Herself,” I said.

“It is a sin in the eyes of the Church.”

“So everyone who is buried in your churchyard is quite beyond reproach?”

“There are no suicides buried there.”

“There must be greater sins than finding one’s life so intolerable that one takes it.”

“It is a sin against God’s laws,” he said complacently.

“I do want you to understand that this is a terrible blow to her family. Could you not waive the laws for once and give her the burial they want for her? It means such a lot to them.”

“You cannot ask me to break the holy laws of God.”

“Is this a holy law? Is it God’s will to inflict greater pain on people who have already suffered infinitely?”

“You miss the point, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

“On the contrary, I think you do that. But please, will you do this for the sake of humanity… for pity’s sake…”

“You cannot be asking me to go against the rule of the Church?”

“If these are the laws of the Church, then I will say they are cruel… unkind… uncaring… and yes, wicked. And I want nothing to do with them.”

“You are coming near to blasphemy, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

“I will speak to my father-in-law.”

“I am not responsible to Eversleigh,” he said. “This living never has been. This is a matter between me and my conscience.”

“Then your conscience, if it has any humanity in it, should give you a very uneasy time.”

“Mrs. Frenshaw, you must leave now. I have nothing more to say.”

“But I shall have a great deal to say.”

I rode home in a fury. My mother was astonished to see me in such a state.

I told her what had happened.

“Oh no!” she cried. “Not this as well.”

“Poor Mrs. Trent… she cares so much about this.”

“I understand that,” said my mother.

“What can we do? The man is adamant.”

“Unfortunately we have no power over him.”

“I know. He made that clear. But something has to be done. I am determined on that.”

I chose a moment when I knew that Dickon would be alone. My stepfather had always maintained a mild friendship with me; I fancied that in his heart he harboured a certain resentment because he was not my father, and he had loved my mother even when she was married to my father.

“Claudine,” he said now. “This is an unexpected honour.”

“I want you to do something,” I said.

“Well, if it is in my power to serve a beautiful young lady, rest assured that it shall be done. What do you want?”

“I want Evie Mather to be buried in the normal way.”

“Is that old idiot Manning making a fuss?”

“Exactly.”

“He would. I’m sorry, Claudine, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t threaten him with the loss of his living because the living isn’t mine to bestow.”

“Nevertheless you could do something.”

He shook his head. “No. If he says no… then it has to be so. It’s in his power to decide.”

“The poor woman is distraught.”

“It’s a terrible business. What a foolish girl! Girls have had babies before.”

“Harry Farringdon has behaved badly.”

Dickon shrugged his shoulders. “These things happen. She ought to have known that he was unlikely to marry her.”

“I expect he promised.”

“She should have made sure.”

“You’re very unsympathetic.”

“No… I understand. I just think she was a fool, that’s all. I daresay if she had come to your mother, she would have helped her… and you certainly would.”

“Don’t you understand how a girl would feel? And there’s that grandmother… you knew her well… so you must realize how much she wanted good things for her grand-daughter… all that she herself had missed.”

He nodded.

“We’ve got to help her,” I said.

“It’s no use with old Manning.”

“I know. But there are other ways.”

“Such as?”

“You do own land in the cemetery… Eversleigh land. I mean where the family is buried.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I want Evie to be buried there.”

“Among our people!”

“Dickon,” I said, “isn’t Evie one of us?”

He showed no sign of embarrassment. “You must be referring to that little entanglement between me and Grandmother Evalina in the distant past.”

“Yes. I am.”

“H’m. Well, it took place.”

“Then Evie could be your grand-daughter.”

“It’s a possibility. Evalina was a shrewd little piece.”

“If Richard Mather was your son… then Evie has a right to a plot of your ground.”

I saw the smile break out on his face. “I love you, Claudine,” he said. “You’re like your mother.”

“Dickon, will you?”

“You know how hard it has always been for me to refuse a beautiful young lady anything she asks.”

“Dickon… thank you. Thank you so much.”

I was in tears. He looked at me in a benign, amused kind of way.

My mother came in.

“What are you doing in here, you two?” she asked.

“Your daughter has just made a request which I have granted.”

“A request… and she’s crying. What are you crying for, Claudine? It’s so unlike you.”

I went to her and kissed her. “Dickon has just made me so happy.”

“Oh?” she said, looking in puzzlement from one to the other of us.

“It’s that old hypocrite Manning,” said Dickon. “Wants Evie Mather in a suicide’s grave. Retribution from his God. The sanctimonious old devil.”

“And…” began my mother.

“Dickon has promised me that she shall be buried in our ground… among the Eversleighs. Oh, it has made me so happy. I’m going to tell Mrs. Trent right away.”

My mother was smiling. “Oh Dickon,” she said. “Thank you. You’re so wonderful.”

I lost no time in getting over to Grasslands.

I was taken at once to Mrs. Trent, who was still in her grey sombre robe.

I said: “Don’t worry, Mrs. Trent. It’s going to be all right.”

“You’ve seen him… that vicar?”

“We don’t have to worry about him. I have spoken to my father-in-law. Evie shall be buried in Eversleigh ground.”

“Consecrated Eversleigh ground,” she cried, wonderment dawning on her ravaged face.

“Yes,” I told her. “He has promised me that it shall be so.”

“Oh thank you, Mrs. Frenshaw. Though it’s no more than her due.”

“I know. I know. But that little trial is over.”

She nodded. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. She was silent for a few moments, then she went on: “I worry… I worry so much about Dolly.”

“Dolly will be all right,” I assured her.

“If I went, where would she be? I used to think when Evie married she would go with her and be looked after. That’s all changed now.”

“I’d see that she was all right, Mrs. Trent. Don’t worry about Dolly. We’d see that she was all right.”

“It’s like the family… in a way,” she said.

I felt almost happy. It had been so wonderful to bring her that little bit of cheer.

It was the day of Evie’s funeral. It was hot and humid. There was a stillness in the air—a hushed silence everywhere. People talked in whispers in the house; and there was no breeze to make the slightest rustle in the trees.

Dickon had promised to go to the church and David and I would go with my mother. I was sure that would please Mrs. Trent.

In the morning there was a visitor to the house. I was in the garden picking some roses which I was going to lay on Evie’s grave. I saw him coming and my heart missed a beat. I ran to him and said: “You shouldn’t have come.” It was a strange way to greet a visitor.

He looked pale and distraught.

“I heard,” he said. “I was so shocked.”

“I’m not surprised.”

I hated Harry Farringdon as he stood there, although he was all contrition. I could not help thinking that but for him Evie would be alive today.

“I had to come,” he said.

“It would have been better if you had stayed away.”

“But I was fond of her.”

“That was unfortunate for her.”

“You don’t believe that I…”

“Harry,” I said, “don’t go into the house. I think it would be better if you were not seen. Go right away… now. I don’t know what would happen if Evie’s grandmother saw you. I believe she would try to do you some harm.”

“I have behaved badly.”

“Indeed you have.”

“But is it true… what I heard about a child?”

“Yes,” I told him. “It’s true. Evie was three months pregnant, and it seems that was the reason she could no longer face the world.”

“You don’t believe that I… was the cause of her condition?”

I looked at him angrily.

“Oh, no, no! It’s not true, Claudine. I swear to you. It could not be. There was never anything like that between us… never any intimacy.”

“Do you expect anybody to believe that?”

“Yes, because it’s true.”

“We all knew that you were interested in her.”

“I was. I was very fond of her.”

“So fond of her that you deserted her?”

“It was just that we did not meet very often.”

“You liked her in a mild sort of way. You led her to believe your feelings went deeper… and this happened.”

“It is months since I’ve seen her. It couldn’t possibly have been my child, Claudine.”

“She was such a quiet, gentle girl. Please don’t try to blacken her character, Harry.”

“I would have done anything I could for her.”

“A not very taxing exercise since she no longer needs your assistance.”

“Oh, Claudine. You doubt me.”

Of course I doubted him! We had never heard of her having another lover. And we should surely have known if there had been anyone else. Who could there be? I had imagined Harry coming surreptitiously to Grasslands, their meeting in secret, his persuading her to become his mistress… no doubt with a promise of marriage. It was an old story.

I said: “Harry, for Heaven’s sake, don’t show yourself. Go away. The mischief is done now. Nothing can bring her back to life.”

“But I was fond of her…” he began.

I looked at him in exasperation. “Harry, go away. You must not be seen. You would be torn to pieces by a lot of angry people. We don’t want a scene at the funeral. That would be the last straw.”

“I wish that you would believe me,” he said. “I swear to you, Claudine, on everything that I hold sacred, that the child was not mine.”

“All right, Harry, but go away. Don’t let anyone see you here. I’m glad you didn’t come to the house.”

“Are those roses for her?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Oh, Claudine, I wish I could have helped her.”

“It’s too late now, Harry. Please go away.”

He turned away and as I watched his retreating figure my hands were shaking.

I had always felt there was something weak about him. He had never been able to make up his mind. Whatever he said, I should still believe that Evie’s child was his. He was so full of remorse now. Well, so he should be.

How fortunate that I had seen him. If he had appeared at the graveside anything might have happened.

There was a simple service in our chapel and Evie’s body was taken in the Eversleigh carriage to the churchyard and there we laid her to rest.

We stood silently round her grave, listening to the fall of the earth as it struck the coffin. As I threw down the roses I had gathered that morning, I saw Mrs. Trent reach for Dolly’s hand and hold it tightly.

When we were leaving the grave I saw the figure of a man partly hidden by some bushes.

I recognized Harry Farringdon.

So he had not been able to keep away.