Daughter of Deceit

Leverson Manor

I had been expecting a pleasant manor house, but when I saw Leverson Manor I was completely overwhelmed. As the carriage which had been sent to meet us at the station approached the house, I saw that, with its machicolated tower and embattled gatehouse, it dominated the landscape.

I was too bewildered then to notice details, but later, when I began to learn a little about its architecture, I was able to appreciate the intricate cornices, the finials, and the traces of the changing modes of the centuries which intermittent restoration had imposed upon it.

At this time it seemed to have an air of cold defiance—a fortress, ready to defend itself against all comers. It was not merely a stone edifice but a living thing. Through four centuries it would have seen much coming and going—births, deaths, comedies and tragedies. I wondered what it was about to see now. I should be part of this house—for a time at least. I was asking myself what it would hold for me.

Apprehension descended on me as we drove under the gatehouse into a cobbled courtyard. I had a feeling that the house itself was watching me, assessing me, despising me as a being from an alien world, who did not belong here, who knew nothing of life except what had been gathered from the noisy streets of London and the somewhat artificial world of theatrical circles. I was not an ordinary visitor. I was becoming more and more uncertain of the wisdom of coming to this place.

As we alighted from the carriage, Charlie laid a reassuring hand on my arm, and then I knew that he was acutely aware of my apprehension.

“Come along,” he said in a voice which was meant to be cheerful. He swung open the heavy iron-studded door and we went into a hall.

Now I felt I had really stepped into the Middle Ages. I glanced up at the hammer-beam roof, the whitewashed walls hung with swords, pistols, shields and blunderbusses. Two flags were crossed at one end of the hall—one displaying what I presumed to be the family’s emblem and the other the Union Jack. Near a staircase, like a sentinel, was a suit of armour. The floor was tiled and our footsteps echoed through the hall as we walked. There was a dais at one end, on which was a large open fireplace, round which I imagined the family gathered after eating at the large refectory table in the centre of the hall.

The windows, two of which were of stained glass, were emblazoned with the family arms and denoted its participation in famous battles. The light from these windows, faintly tinted as it was, gave an uncanny ambience to the place.

Again I told myself I should not have come. I had a ridiculous but certain feeling that the house was telling me that. I did not belong here in this place with all its traditions. I wanted to run out, go straight to the station and back to London as fast as I could.

Then a door opened at the top of a short staircase, which led up from the right side of the dais.

“Noelle. It is good to see you.” And there was Roderick hurrying towards me.

He took my hands. “I was so delighted when I heard you were here.”

Charlie looked on benignly and I felt some of my fears slipping away.

“You two seem to know each other,” he said.

“We met once or twice in the street,” I told him.

“I was desperately sorry to hear about your mother,” said Roderick.

“It was necessary for Noelle to get away,” said Charlie.

“You’re going to find some interesting things here,” said Roderick.

“I think the house is most … unusual. I have never seen a house like it before.”

“Oh, there isn’t one, is there?” replied Roderick with a laugh, looking at his father. “At least, that is what we like to think.”

“We’re proud of it,” said Charlie. “Though I’m afraid we take it for granted, having spent all our lives here. We like to see how it affects people. We have never really lost that, have we, Roderick?”

“Certainly not. The house is a bit of a hybrid, really. That’s what happens to these old places. They need bolstering up over the years and you see the ideas in vogue during one century intruding on another.”

“Surely that makes it all the more interesting?”

The gloom was dispelling and I felt a great lifting of my spirits. I had been right to come, after all. Roderick was here … and Charlie. They would help me … protect me if need be.

Then Charlie said to Roderick: “Where is your mother?”

“She is in the drawing room.”

My sudden burst of relief evaporated. I guessed that Lady Constance had only accepted my coming here because she had been obliged to.

“We’d better go up, then,” said Charlie; and we mounted the short staircase to the door through which Roderick had come into the hall.

We passed through several rooms, under arches and up and down little staircases, past walls hung with magnificent tapestries and portraits. I scarcely noticed them. And after a long time, it seemed, we came to the drawing room.

Charlie opened the door and we went in. Vaguely I was aware of a room with heavy drapes at the windows, a highly polished wooden floor covered in rugs, tapestries and linenfold panelling.

And there, seated on a thronelike chair, was the woman I had often visualized and never thought to meet: Lady Constance.

We advanced towards her, and Charlie said: “Constance, this is Miss Noelle Tremaston. Noelle, my wife.”

She did not rise. She lifted a lorgnette and surveyed me, which I felt was a gesture meant to remind me of my insignificance. Although I resented this, I stood there quite meekly. There was something about her which demanded homage.

“Good day, Miss Tremaston,” she said. “Your room has been made ready for you, and one of the maids can take you to it. You will need to recover from your journey, I am sure.”

“Good day, Lady Constance,” I replied. “Thank you. It was not really a very long journey.”

She waved her lorgnette and pointed in the direction of a chair, indicating that I might sit.

“I gather you have come from London,” she said.

“Yes, that is so.”

“I don’t care for the place. Too much noise … too many people, and some of them can be most unpleasant.”

Roderick said: “A good many people find London fascinating, Mother, and there are unpleasant people everywhere.”

“That may be so,” she retorted, “but everything in London is on a bigger scale, and that means there are more of them.” She turned to me. “I gather your mother was involved with the theatre.” There was a certain distaste in her voice. “You will find it very different here. We live quietly in the country.”

“I find the house very interesting,” I said.

“That is good of you, Miss … er …”

“She is Noelle to us,” said Charlie with a hint of firmness in his voice.

“And there have been some wonderful discoveries on your land,” I said.

“Noelle wants to see the Roman remains,” added Roderick.

“H’m,” murmured Lady Constance. “But now she will want to see her room. Ring the bell, Roderick, please.”

Roderick obeyed and very soon a maid appeared.

“Take Miss … er … Tremaston to her room, Gertie,” said Lady Constance. “And make sure that she has everything.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” said Gertie.

Roderick was smiling at me reassuringly, Charlie a little apprehensively, as I followed Gertie out of the room.

We went up and down more stairs and through more rooms.

“This is the Red Room, miss,” said Gertie when we reached our destination. “It’s to be yours. See, it’s all in red. Red curtains, red carpets and red on the bed.” She giggled at the rhyme, which I imagined had been said many times to the occupants of the room.

“There’s the Blue Room, the White Room … but they’re not used very much. You’ll get lost in this house at first. Rambling old place, it is. But you get used to it. They’ve brought your bags up so you can unpack. Want any help? … No? Well, all you have to do is ring if you do. There’s hot water and towels here and in about half an hour I’ll come and take you down. Her ladyship don’t like anyone being late.”

When she had gone I sat down on the bed. It was a four-poster, probably at least a hundred years old. I touched the red curtains and felt my uneasiness growing.

Lady Constance was hostile. Naturally she would be, so that should not surprise me. I thought of the streets of London; the carriages taking people to and from the theatre; of my mother, laughing, carefree, full of gaiety. No wonder Charlie had turned to her. She was everything that Lady Constance was not. I longed for her more than ever. I felt lost in an alien world. Such a short time ago everything had been happily predictable—and now there was complete change.

I wanted to weep helplessly. I wanted to go back to Desiree’s comforting security; and instead of Desiree’s warm loving-kindness, I was confronted by the frigid dislike of Lady Constance.

But Roderick was here, I reminded myself. He and Charlie wanted me to be happy. I was not alone.

I washed and changed. I was ready to face Lady Constance.

During the first days at Leverson Manor, there were occasions when I told myself I should have to get away. It was only the insistence of Charlie and Roderick that I should stay which made me feel that I could not leave at once.

It had soon become clear to me that Lady Constance tolerated my presence only because it was impossible for her to do otherwise.

I saw here a new man in Charlie. I had thought him mild and easygoing, but at Leverson Manor he was master of the household and somehow, formidable as Lady Constance was, he had made her understand this. I also realized more fully how deeply he had loved my mother. I knew that he was lost and lonely without her—a feeling so intense, which we both shared. Silently, he was begging me not to go. It had been her wish that we should be together if an occasion like this arose. It had, and he was going to look after me, and it gave him a modicum of comfort that he could do this.

Then there was Roderick. I cannot deny that I drew comfort from him. Like his father, he was determined that I should stay and, bruised and lonely as I was, I was in a measure grateful. I was living in a strange, unreal world between those happy carefree days which I had believed would go on forever and the dreary wilderness of life without Desiree which I must face sooner or later.

In time, I reminded myself, I should consider my situation. Perhaps it would be good for me to do some work. It might indeed be necessary that I did. In the meantime I had to get through the days: I had to learn to suppress my sorrow: and Charlie and Roderick were helping me to do that.

Sometimes I felt that she was watching over me tenderly, urging me to stay with Charlie. She trusted him. Her greatest concern had always been for me. To be without her was utter desolation.

“Try to take an interest, love,” I could almost hear her saying. “Perhaps we’ll be together someday. I never thought much about these things, but there are times when you have to face them, and if you can get a bit of comfort from believing it, that’s not a bad way. Be patient. You’ve got to go on living. I trust Charlie. He’s the one I want to look after you.”

Roderick suggested that I should learn to ride.

“It’s necessary here in the country,” he said.

The riding lessons were a success. Roderick was a good and patient teacher and I began to find the exercise exhilarating. I improved so rapidly that for several hours at a stretch I could forget my mother.

“In a week or so you’ll be a good horsewoman, Noelle,” Roderick told me. “Then we can go farther afield. There is a good deal for you to see.”

He was so delighted that I had to show my pleasure for his sake; but I must say that I did feel uplifted by my aptitude on a horse, and it was certainly good to be able to put aside the black desolation, if only for a few hours.

One of the first things Roderick wanted to do was show me the Roman ruins.

The countryside was very flat around Leverson. From my bedroom window I could see the land stretching out almost to the sea. Roderick had explained to me that at the time of the Roman invasion the sea must have come within a quarter of a mile of the house. Now there was a mile and a half between it and the sea.

When he took me to inspect the finds, he glowed with enthusiasm.

“I always wanted to show you this,” he said. “Remember?”

I did remember, and the memory saddened me. We had mentioned the secrecy of our meetings, and we had wished that this need not be. Our wish had been granted, but at what a cost!

Roderick saw at once that he had saddened me and was immediately remorseful.

I said: “It’s all right. Yes, I did want to see them. You made them sound so interesting.”

“It is one of the most exciting discoveries in the country. It was a sort of fuelling station, but a very important person must have been in charge of operations, and had to have his villa nearby. You see the mosaic pavings … lovely reds and whites … chalk for the white, sandstone for the red. It’s all so ingenious … and modern in a way. It was a tragedy the Roman Empire disintegrated. If it had not, we might not have slipped into the Dark Ages.” He laughed. “Oh, forgive me. I go on and on about all this. It grips you, you know.”

“I am sure it does … and I like to hear it. Is that a cottage over there?”

“Not exactly. It’s Fiona’s domain … her workshop.”

“Fiona?”

“Fiona Vance. You’ll meet her. She’s probably there now … working away. I’ll explain. You asked if it was a cottage. In a way it is. It certainly was once. Then it was derelict, and no one thought much about it. It was isolated … falling apart. We did consider clearing it away altogether … and then there was this discovery and the cottage was right in the centre of it. When excavations started, and they were finding all sorts of pottery … weapons … and things like that, work had to be done on them. That is when Fiona came.”

“What does she do exactly?”

“Work continuously. She’s dedicated. You see, most of the artifacts are found in fragments. They have to be fitted together … like a jigsaw puzzle. Only experts can do it. Pieces of wood … metal … pottery … they all have to be treated in different ways. Without expert knowledge much could be lost.”

“And Fiona has this special knowledge?”

“Yes. It’s interesting how it came about. She lives with Mrs. Carling, her grandmother … a peculiar old lady. She’s really rather odd … some superstitious people would say she is a witch. They don’t like to offend her … afraid she’ll fix the Evil Eye on them. You know the sort of thing. She’s devoted to Fiona. She’s looked after her since she was a baby … that was when Fiona’s parents died. Their carriage overturned and they were killed together when Fiona was about a year old. She’s quite different from the old lady. However, you’ll see for yourself.”

“She sounds very interesting … so does the grandmother.”

“You’ll find lots to interest you here, Noelle.”

“You and your father are so good to me.”

I heard my voice tremble and he said quickly: “We’re going to show you all this place has to offer. We want you to be happy here. I know how difficult it is just now, but it will get better.”

“Tell me more about Fiona.”

“Well, it all started when she found some coins in her garden. There was quite a fuss about it. It was an indication of what might be here … right on our doorstep. Sir Harry Harcourt … have you heard of him? He’s one of our leading archaeologists … he’s been out to Egypt recently and made the most fantastic discoveries. You must have heard of him.”

“Yes. I know his name.”

“Well, he made a personal visit to Mrs. Carling’s garden, and I fancy was rather impressed with Fiona. She was about sixteen at the time, and he offered her a job in one of his concerns. Old Mrs. Carling didn’t want her to go, but Fiona’s heart was set on it. And of course, it was a wonderful opportunity. Fiona was hooked … and she was a good worker. So when all this happened, she was sent here to look after the bits and pieces which were coming to light in fairly large quantities once they started digging around. Old Mrs. Carling was pleased because it brought her granddaughter back, and Fiona was content. She’s a kind girl and hated to disappoint her grandmother. So … Fiona could do the work she wanted to and at the same time feel no remorse. And the workshop is only a stone’s throw from Mrs. Carling’s house.”

“I look forward to meeting her.”

“I am just going to show you our greatest find, and then we’ll look in on Fiona. There, look. This is the remains of the villa. Mind how you go. The ground is uneven. You’d better take my arm.”

I did so and he pressed my hand against him.

“You need to watch your step. This is part of the villa. This mosaic paving is some of the best-preserved in Roman Britain. Now I must show you what I consider the most important of all. It reveals how civilized the Romans were. Be careful here. Fiona was wondering if we should fence some of this off.”

“Do many people come here to look at it?”

“Now and then. Particularly when there is some new discovery and it’s mentioned in the press. What I want to show you is the bath. At a time when cleanliness was not the major preoccupation of most of the world’s population, the Romans were very particular about it. This bath has been revealed in almost perfect condition. There are three pools. The tepidarium, the warm, the calidarium, the hot, and the frigidarium, the cold, which I believe they plunged into at the end. A very spartan people these. Look, you can see how deep they were. Don’t go too close. It would not be very pleasant to fall in. Sir Harry was very excited about it. Every now and then some party comes down, intent on further exploration. I can tell you, it has altered things at Leverson. It has given us some notoriety in the archaeological world. So excuse me if my enthusiasm runs away with me.”

“It’s quite fascinating and I love to hear about it.”

“You will hear lots about it, I can assure you. Oh, look! There is Fiona. She’s heard our approach, I think.”

A girl had emerged from the cottage. She was wearing a green smock which was very becoming to her flaxen hair. I noticed that her eyes were green, accentuated by the colour of the smock. Her face creased up with pleasure at the sight of Roderick. Then she was looking at me with a curiosity which she tried in vain to suppress.

“Oh, Fiona,” said Roderick. “I was just talking about you.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, in mock dismay.

“Extolling your virtues, of course. This is Miss Noelle Tremaston, who is staying with us.”

“Good afternoon,” she said. “I heard you were here. News travels fast in this place.”

Roderick laughed. “Miss Tremaston … Noelle … already knows who you are: Miss Fiona Vance, our archaeological expert.”

“He flatters me,” said Fiona. “I’m an amateur.”

“Oh, come. That’s overmodest. You should see the work she has done on some of our finds. We’re getting a good idea of the kind of ornaments and pots which were used on this site … all thanks to Fiona’s careful work. Are you going to ask us in, Fiona?”

“I was hoping you would suggest it.”

“Let’s go, then,” said Roderick. “Miss Tremaston wants to see some of the marvels you’ve produced.”

She smiled at me. “I’ve only fitted together what was already there,” she said. “I was just going to make a cup of coffee. Would you care for some?”

“We’d enjoy that,” Roderick answered for us, and I immediately agreed.

It was indeed a cottage which had clearly been converted into a workshop. There were two rooms made into one. Benches had been set up and these were crowded with oddments and various tools, some of which I did not at that moment recognize as such but which afterwards Fiona explained to me were bellows to blow away loose earth, coarse metal sieves, ladles, steel rods for inserting into the ground which were called probes, as well as brushes of different sizes. There were containers of all sorts, glues and bottles of several kinds of solution; and in the centre of the room was a stove on which stood a pan of hot water.

Leading from this room was a small alcove, part of a kitchen. In this was a deep sink and a tap. There was an old stove there and a cupboard, from which Fiona took cups and a coffeepot.

There were four small chairs with wicker backs and on these she asked us to be seated while she went into the alcove and made the coffee.

Roderick told me that the cottage had not had to be changed very much. The stairs near the old kitchen led to two rooms upstairs, the bedrooms, and they were left just as they had been.

“That is where Fiona has a rest when she is tired.”

“That is not true!” retaliated Fiona from the alcove. “I’m never tired during the day. I bring a sandwich with me most days and make coffee. Sometimes I take them upstairs just to get away from all the muddle and the smell of some of the products I have to use.”

She brought in the coffee in cups on a tray.

“Are you staying long at Leverson?” she asked me.

I hesitated and Roderick said: “We are trying to persuade her to.”

“And you come from London, I believe?”

“I do.”

“I daresay you’ll find it a little dull here.”

“Shame on you, Fiona!” cried Roderick. “With all this on your doorstep! I’ve just been showing her the baths.”

Her eyes shone. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

“I have never seen anything like them before,” I told her.

“Few people have … in such condition. Isn’t that so, Roderick?”

“See how proud we are. Fiona, you are worse than I am.”

They exchanged glances, and I wondered about the relationship between them. He was obviously fond of her and she … well, perhaps it was too soon to say, but I fancied she was of him.

She went on to talk about the vase she was piecing together.

“It’s an unusual one,” she was saying. “There is too much missing as yet. It’s disappointing.”

“There is quite a unique pattern on it.”

“Yes. That’s what is so maddening.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at me. “Well, that’s all part of the job,” she went on. “There is often something which could be made perfect … but the essential parts are missing.”

“The coffee is delicious,” I said.

“Thank you. I hope you will look in whenever you are this way.”

“Shouldn’t I be disturbing your work?”

“No, not at all.”

“Fiona loves to talk about it, don’t you, Fiona?”

“I suppose so. By the way, I’ve made a sketch of that drinking vessel … how I think it should look if completed. Of course, we’ve only a fragment so far. It’s at home. Come and have a look at it when you’re passing.”

“I will,” said Roderick.

It struck me that, as I wondered about her, she might have similar thoughts about me. She might be asking herself how friendly / was with Roderick. She was watching me intently. I could not say in a hostile manner. She had been charmingly welcoming and friendly towards me.

It occurred to me that she must be in love with him.

As we walked back to the manor, talking about what we had seen that morning, I was preoccupied, thinking about my own feelings for Roderick.

Unsettled as my position was, I was being drawn more and more into life at Leverson Manor. My feelings were not only mixed; they went from one extreme to another. I was becoming more and more interested in the house. Sometimes it seemed to welcome me, at others to reject me.

On one occasion I was lost. In those first days it was easy to lose one’s way. There were so many doors: one could easily miss the one for which one looked and find oneself in a hitherto unexplored part of the house.

It was during my first week that this happened to me. I had come from my room and turned into a corridor which I had thought would take me to the staircase. When I realized my mistake, I tried to retrace my steps. I felt sure I was going in the right direction and would in due course come to the hall.

However, I found myself in a part of the house which I had never seen before. I came into a room with several windows and portraits along the wall facing them. The light was strong, for it was early morning and I had been on my way down to breakfast. The room faced east. There was a deep silence. I often felt this in the house when I found myself alone. It was rather disconcerting. There was a table in a corner and beside it a piece of unfinished tapestry on a frame; in another corner of the room was a spinning wheel.

I looked about me. I guessed this was one of the older parts of the house. I tried to fight off that familiar feeling which came to me now and then that I was being watched. It was most uncanny.

I should have tried to retrace my steps immediately, but there was something about the place which made me pause.

I glanced at the pictures on the wall. There were about six of them in ornate frames, and the subjects wore clothes of several early periods. I studied them—Leversons and Claverhams, I guessed. The eyes of some seemed to look straight at me and they made me feel uneasy. As I stared, their expressions seemed to change and to regard me with derision, distrust and dislike.

I was growing very fanciful since I had come here. It was because, in spite of the welcome I had had from Charlie and Roderick, in my heart I knew I should not be here. I wondered what my mother would have been like if she had married Charlie and come to live here. The house would have been different then. She would have dispersed that aura of formality. She would have snapped her fingers at the past.

I moved towards the unfinished tapestry in the frame. I recognized it at once. It was the house itself, in all its splendour. I recognized the coat of arms worked in blues, reds and gold.

There was a rustle behind me. I started guiltily. Lady Constance had come silently into the room and was watching me.

“You are interested in my work, Miss Tremaston?”

“Oh yes … it is quite splendid.”

“You know something of tapestry work?”

“I have never done any.”

“This is the house, you see. The house is very important to me.”

“I know. It is such a magnificent place.”

She had approached me and was standing close to me, watching me intently.

“Ever since I came here I have done my best to maintain the standards laid down by our ancestors.”

“I am sure you have.”

“I am determined that nothing shall disturb that.”

“Yes,” I said. “It would be a pity if anything were to.”

“Were you … er … looking for something?”

“Oh no … no. I lost my way.”

“It is so easy to lose one’s way when one is not accustomed …” Her voice trailed off.

I felt myself shiver slightly. I had a great urge to turn and run away … right out of this house.

I said feebly: “I was going down to breakfast.”

“Oh yes. You go back the way you came. At the end of the corridor you will find the staircase. It leads down to the hall. The breakfast room is on the right.”

“I realize now the way I should have gone. Thank you.”

I was relieved to escape. She was telling me to go, that I did not belong here. It was in every gesture, every inflection of her voice. I must go … soon.

But later that day, when I was having my riding lesson in the paddock, Roderick made me feel how glad he was that I was here, and I wanted to stay.

The uncertainty was soon back with me. I could go to London. Robert had impressed on me that I must use the house whenever I wanted to. He was particularly anxious that I should regard it as my home. It was what my mother would have wanted; and, as with Charlie, now that she was gone, he could only be comforted when he was doing what she would have wanted.

This must necessarily be a waiting period. In the meantime I must try to resign myself with serenity for whatever fate was in store for me. I was less unhappy than I had thought possible during the riding lessons with Roderick and sharing with him the enthusiasm for the Roman remains, in which my interest was growing apace. I was becoming friendly with Fiona and sometimes, when Roderick was busy, I went alone to the cottage. Fiona showed me how to clean pottery with a soft brush in order to loosen the dirt. I would picture as I did so the people who had used such utensils in their ordinary daily lives. I discovered the fascination of delving into and seeking to re-create the past. It was a wonderful way in which to escape from the present.

I tried to forget Lady Constance, and indeed did not see a great deal of her. She would appear at dinner, but other meals she often took in her room. I always sat next to Charlie on those occasions and he would talk to me, protecting me, as it were, against the faintly disguised shafts which came from Lady Constance. Not that she took a great deal of notice of me. Her strategy was to treat me coolly, as a guest whom she hoped would not stay long. No one else seemed to be aware of that, but for me the implication was there.

I had struck up a friendship with Gertie, the maid, who had been given the task of looking after me. She brought my hot water night and morning and cleaned my room.

She was a girl of about seventeen who had come to the family at the age of twelve. She had taken a liking to me, perhaps because I was less formal than most of the guests who came to Leverson Manor. I enjoyed chatting to her.

She knew that I was the daughter of Desiree and was overawed by the fact.

“I saw Desiree once,” she told me. “It was a few years back … when my sister got married. He was comfortably off, her young man … had two stalls in Paddington, in the market there … cockles and mussels. He did a thriving trade. When they were engaged, he took me and my sister to the theatre. It was lovely. He said, ‘I’ll take you to see the great Desiree. That’s what all London’s doing.’ We went to see her in Gypsy Girl.”

I closed my eyes. I remembered it well. There had been the usual quarrels, my mother refusing to wear some of the costumes, Dolly stamping out and being allowed to go … and then coming back and making some compromise over the costumes. And the longing for the old days was almost unbearable.

Gertie did not know that. “She was lovely,” she went on. “She had big gold rings in her ears … and the way she danced with Lord James … all round the stage she went … it was lovely.”

“I remember it well,” I said.

“And now you’re here, miss. That’s ever so exciting.”

I could see my connection with Desiree played a big part in my attraction for her, and in due course I think it made her more frank with me than she would have been with anyone else.

She told me that Lady Constance was “a bit of a tartar.”

“Everything’s got to be just as she wants it. Otherwise you’re called to her. There’s a warning once, but next time you could be out. She’s always talking about trad-something.”

“Tradition,” I suggested.

“Yes, miss, that’s it. Everything in the house has got to be just right … and just like it was in bygone days.”

“I can imagine that.”

“She can be hard on people. There was Emmy Gentle.”

“One of the maids?” I asked.

Gertie nodded. “She was a wild one. More fond of the men than housework. She’d be larking about with anything in trousers that came her way. And she was always breaking things. Sometimes you could cover up for her … but there was this precious china. She was warned once … twice. Then there was a third time. That was it. It wasn’t easy to get another place … not without a reference. Emmy couldn’t find anything. Then she went to the bad.”

“To the bad?”

“Well, yes. That’s what they call it. You should have seen her. All decked out, she was. She had a dress of real silk. She said it was better than being Lady Constance’s slave. But it just shows you … you’ve got to be careful with her ladyship.”

Gertie told me about her home. “There was eight of us … only two old enough to go out to work. I send home a little bit. Not much, but it’s a help.”

She had made me see that, like most members of the household, she went in fear of Lady Constance. The case of Emmy Gentle had been a lesson to them all.

Gertie went on: “Her ladyship don’t like that Miss Vance seeing so much of Mr. Roderick.”

“Doesn’t she?” I asked. “Why?”

“Well, she’d be afraid, wouldn’t she? After all, who is she? That old grandmother of hers is a witch, some say. Emmy Gentle went to her once when she was in a bit of trouble. Emmy always said she did her a power of good. Oh, Miss Fiona’s the young lady all right. Had a good education, they say. Old Mrs. Carling saw to that. She’d want the best for her. Then there was that Sir Harry Something. He taught her a lot about those old Roman things and he gave her a job. She went away and came back. Oh, she’s quite the lady, but she’s not the sort Lady Constance would want for Mr. Roderick.”

“And … er … Mr. Roderick?”

“I reckon he’ll go his own way. Him and the master are ones for having their own way … for the things that matter to them … though they’re soft enough in some things. Alike they are. But I reckon when the time comes Mr. Roderick will choose without his mother’s help. All the same, there’s sure to be fireworks if he did. But we’ll see. She wants a real lady for him … someone with a grand title. Well, she is Lady Constance herself … and she don’t like you to forget that.”

“Yes, as you say, it will be for Mr. Roderick to decide.”

“Yes … but there is that old Mrs. Carling … she’s one to get what she wants, and they say she’s got powers …”

I was silent, wondering about the wisdom of carrying on such a conversation with a servant in a house where I was a guest. I said how interesting it was that the Roman remains had been discovered on Leverson land. But to Gertie the past was not of the same interest as the immediate present, and the conversation came to an end. I left her then to get on with her work.

One day I called at the cottage and instead of Fiona I found a strange woman there. I guessed at once that it was Mrs. Carling, of whom I had heard so much.

She was certainly unusual—tall and straight with dark abundant hair, which she wore in plaits round her head; large Creole earrings dangled from her ears. But what struck one immediately were her bright, penetrating eyes. They were luminous and gave the impression that they were seeing something invisible to others. The manner in which they were fixed on me made me feel faintly uneasy, for she gave me the impression that she was probing into my mind, trying to discover things which I did not wish to be revealed.

I said: “You’re Mrs. Carling, I’m sure. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Noelle Tremaston.”

“Of course. And I have heard much about you. I am so pleased to meet you at last. And how are you liking this part of the country?”

“It’s very interesting … and particularly the discoveries.”

She nodded. “Fiona’s gone off. Someone found something in a garden. She has gone to see if it’s ancient or modern. You’d be surprised how many people think they’ve found something of value since all this started!”

“I suppose that is inevitable, and you never know whether it is going to be something of real importance.”

“Do sit down. Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’ve just had lunch.”

“Fiona may not be long. She went out an hour or more ago.”

I sat down.

“She’s completely caught up in all this,” she said.

“I can understand how absorbing it is.”

“H’m,” she said. “She and Roderick Claverham … they are a pair of enthusiasts.”

“I know.”

She was looking at me anxiously. “And you, my dear. I know you have suffered a terrible loss.”

I was silent, and she went on: “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But I am … aware. Perhaps you have heard something of me.”

I nodded.

“Fiona is fond of you already. I should like to help.”

“Thank you … but there is nothing anyone can do. It has just … happened.”

“I know, my dear, but you are young. If at any time I could help … I don’t know whether you’ve heard, but I have been blessed with a certain gift.”

She was making me feel rather uncomfortable, for as she spoke she was watching me so intently.

I said: “Yes, I have heard.”

“I’ve had my sorrows, so I understand full well,” she went on. “I lost my daughter when she was twenty-two years old. She was my life. I took Fiona and she became my consolation. There are always consolations in life, my dear. We do well to remember that.”

“I try to remember it.”

“I knew of your mother, of course. I know she was a wonderful person as well as a famous one. I know what it feels like to be suddenly bereft. There is some good to come, even out of such suffering. It helps us to understand the suffering of others. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Thank you. You are very kind.”

“One of these days you must come to see me. I could perhaps help in some way.”

“It is good of you.”

“Promise me you will come.”

“Thank you. I will.”

She went on: “I have said what had to be said and that is enough. Tell me about yourself. Tell me what you think of the excitement over all these relics. The Claverhams are delightful people, are they not? Senior and Junior, I mean. We couldn’t have better squires of the neighbourhood. Such a wonderful family … going right back through the centuries. Roderick is going to be just like his father. It is what the neighbourhood needs. I am sure they are very kind to you.”

“Yes, they are.”

She looked at me somewhat roguishly. “And her ladyship?”

I was taken aback and she laughed. “She has grand ideas about certain things, that one. But Mr. Claverham is a good and kindly man and his son Roderick takes after him.”

Suddenly she seemed to change her mind. Perhaps it occurred to her that she was being a little too frank on such a short acquaintance and she began to talk of the village and what a difference the discoveries had made, how glad she was that Fiona had found the work she loved so close to home—such absorbing work which she was able to share with Roderick. She talked of some of the people in the village and how she had managed to cure them of certain ailments because she had a herb garden where she grew all sorts of medicinal plants which her special knowledge helped her to use to advantage.

“Some of them call me a witch,” she told me. “Years ago I might have been burned as one. Think of all the good women who met that fate. There are white witches as well as the other sort, you know. White witches bring nothing but good. I am one of that kind … if you can call me one. I want to help people. I want to help you.”

I was relieved to hear the sound of horse’s hoofs. Mrs. Carling rose and went to the window.

“It’s Fiona,” she said, and in a few moments Fiona came into the cottage.

“Oh, Noelle,” she said. “How nice to see you. You’ve met my grandmother.”

“We have been getting along very well,” said Mrs. Carling.

“I had to go to Jasmine Cottage,” said Fiona to me. “They found some fragments of china in the garden. Someone must have thrown an old milk jug out a few years ago.” She smiled ruefully. “We get that now and then. But of course we have to look at everything. We can’t afford to let anything pass.”

“Of course not,” I said.

“Well, I’m glad my grandmother entertained you. Thanks, Granny.”

She looked a little uneasy and, having met the grandmother, I could understand that.

“I daresay you’d like some refreshment, Fiona,” said Mrs. Carling.

“Oh, I would,” said Fiona.

When Mrs. Carling left us to make the coffee, Fiona looked at me almost questioningly. I knew she was wondering what her grandmother had said to me.

I told her that we had had a very interesting chat and she seemed relieved.

We were drinking the coffee which had been prepared when Roderick arrived.

He told us that he had been to see one of the tenants and, as he was passing, he couldn’t resist calling. He looked pleased to see me there. I knew he was delighted that Fiona and I got along so well.

Fiona explained about her visit to the cottage to inspect the broken milk jug.

Roderick laughed. “Another?” he said. “Well, no doubt there will be lots more.”

“The trouble is, one can never be sure.”

“No stone must be left unturned,” quoted Roderick. “Who knows? You might find the discovery of the century. How is the vase coming along?”

“Slowly. I’m getting so many pieces of various things that I don’t know how I get them all in this place.”

“You’ll have to have a room at the Manor.”

“I might even want that.”

“Why not? There’s plenty of room. All you have to do is ask.”

“I’ll remember that,” said Fiona.

“Well, she is certainly overcrowded here,” said Mrs. Carling, smiling benignly on her granddaughter.

When Roderick and I were leaving together to return to the Manor, Mrs. Carling took my hand and looked at me earnestly.

“I do want you to come and see me,” she said.

“Thank you. I should like that.”

“Please promise me.”

“I will come.”

“I think you will find it … useful.”

We said goodbye, and when we had left the cottage, Roderick said: “What did you think of the old lady?”

“She’s very unusual.”

“Unusual! Some people think she is slightly mad.”

“She did say that she could have been burned as a witch two hundred years ago.”

“Lucky for her, then, that she was not born earlier.”

“I think she is devoted to Fiona.”

“There is no doubt about that. Fiona is a very admirable young lady. She certainly does not take after her grandmother. No flights of fancy there. Fiona has her feet firmly planted on the ground. She is wonderful to her grandmother, who, at times, must be something of a trial to her.”

We reached the house. I went in while Roderick took our horses to the stables.

I heard from Lisa Fennell. She wrote:

Dear Noelle,

I have not written before, as I have been ill. I am still at the house. Monsieur Bouchere has said I may stay until I find something suitable. Mrs. Crimp has been an angel. I don’t know what I should have done without her—and of course Monsieur Bouchere’s kind hospitality.

I was so terribly shocked by your mother’s death. I was very fond of her. Her wonderful understanding and help meant so much to me. I shall never forget how she helped me. She was the most wonderful person I ever met.

That she should die like that … at the height of her powers … and so suddenly … really shattered me. I had a slight cold at the time. It developed and with the shock I became really ill.

I can’t stop thinking of her and what we have all lost … including the theatre, which will never be the same without her. I was so depressed … so wretched. She had come into my life like an angel of mercy … and then to be taken away. I felt guilty because I was taking her place when it happened.

I’ve recovered now. I am going to throw myself into my work. I have been very lucky. Mr. Dollington has given me a part in his new show, Rags and Tatters. It will be opening in a few weeks. At which theatre, I am as yet uncertain. We are into rehearsals madly, as you can guess. Lottie Langdon is taking the lead. Mr. Dollington is very sad. Something seems to have gone out of him.

But we all have to go on, don’t we?

I do hope you will come and see the show. Perhaps you could persuade Mr. Claverham to come with you. I should so enjoy seeing you again.

With my best regards,

Lisa Fennell

Here it was back … the heartbreaking memories … Lisa under the horse’s hoofs … bringing her into the house. Desiree’s concern … bullying Dolly into giving Lisa a place in the chorus.

It would always be like that.

A few days passed and I was no nearer to making a decision about my future. One moment I wanted to stay at Leverson Manor, the next I felt an urgent desire to get away. The main reason for this was, of course, Lady Constance. At dinner I would often find her eyes on me. It was an uncanny feeling. Once, when I was talking to Roderick in the garden, I glanced up at the house and saw a shadow at a window. I knew it was Lady Constance, and I had the feeling that she was willing me to go. But whenever I suggested that I should, there were loud protests from Roderick and Charlie.

I should soon be having a meeting with the solicitor who had looked after my mother’s affairs; and when he told me exactly what the position was, I must make plans.

The estate kept Charlie and Roderick busy. It was very large and they were often out all day.

Roderick said: “When you are a little more practised, you will be able to ride out with me and see something of the estate … meet some of the tenants. I think you will enjoy that.”

He spoke as though I should be at Leverson Manor indefinitely, and I reminded myself—though not him at that time—that as soon as I had seen the solicitor, I must bestir myself and decide on my future.

My friendship with Fiona grew quickly. She was very interested in the theatrical world and over cups of coffee we talked a great deal. I found it comforting to talk of Desiree to someone who had not known her. I explained about the shows and the way she had worked. I could smile, remembering the first nights, the tension before them and the relief when they were over, the people who had come to the house, the dramas, the triumphs.

In her turn, she talked to me about her life, how good her grandmother had been to her.

“Sometimes,” she said, “I fear I shall never be able to repay her. She spent more than she could afford on my education. Sometimes I fear she has made me too much the centre of her life and I shall disappoint her. She has never said so, but I believe she would rather I was not interested in all this. I remember one day she said to me, ‘You are growing up, Fiona. I want the best for you. My daughter, your mother, meant everything to me and when she died there would have been nothing at all if she had not left you.’ Soon after that, I found the coins in the garden and everything changed. She hints that she led me to the coins. She had a premonition that they were in the garden and I should find them and they would change my life … lead me on to my destiny. Well, the coins aroused Sir Harry Harcourt’s interest, and he gave me a chance. You see, my grandmother believes she has special gifts and naturally she wants to use them for getting the best for me.”

“What is that?”

“I suppose most people … parents … grandparents … think it is a good marriage for their charges. They want security through what they call a good marriage. I think I could have a very happy life … working like this. But my grandmother probably wouldn’t agree on that. And your mother … I expect she planned something like that for you.”

“I suppose she would have wanted me to marry in time. But what I wanted was to be with her and for things to go on as they always had done. I rather think she wanted the same. And then … suddenly … it was all over.”

“Let me show you how the vase is coming on. I wonder if I shall ever be able to complete it.”

I looked at the pieces she was working on and she showed me some sketches of what she thought it might have looked like when it was complete.

I told her then that her grandmother had invited me to call on her.

“Yes, I heard her asking you. She’s very interested in people who come here, and she is particularly interested in you.”

“Because of my mother,” I said.

Everything seemed to lead back to her, and at any moment my grief could overwhelm me.

Fiona understood and we talked of other things.

The following afternoon I found myself making my way to Mrs. Carling’s house. I found the place easily. It was a large cottage, surrounded by shrubs, and there was a gate with a short path to the door. It was very quiet. I paused for a moment, wondering whether I wanted to go on. There was something very strange about the woman and I was a little disturbed by the probing nature of her interest and the manner in which she would suddenly lean forward and peer into my face.

I noticed some unfamiliar plants in the garden at the side of the house. Herbs, I supposed. Did she make them into concoctions which she supplied to people like Emmy Gentle in their troubles?

The door was overhung by creeper, which also grew round the windows. I thought of Hansel and Gretel in the witch’s house.

Did Roderick ever come here? I wondered. I sensed that he was fond of Fiona. But then he made me feel that he was tender towards me. There was something very kind in Roderick’s nature. He was considerate to everyone. It came naturally to him. I felt that it would be unwise to imagine that there was something special for me simply because of his kindness.

I lifted the brown knocker and I could hear the sound of it echoing through the house. I stood waiting. It would be pleasant if Fiona was there, and perhaps Roderick would call and join us.

The door opened. Mrs. Carling was smiling delightedly at me. She was wearing a long flowing gown with a tiger-skin pattern; the Creole earrings swung as she held out her hand to me.

“Come in. Come in,” she cried. “I am so glad you decided to come. I had a feeling you were hesitating.”

“Oh no. I wanted to come.”

“Then let us go in. I know we are going to have an enjoyable afternoon. I have been looking forward to this ever since we met. It’s more cosy than in that room of Fiona’s … all those bits and pieces and brushes and things … playing about with things

“Perhaps they would be rather pleased that we are so interested in them … if they could know it,” I said.

“Maybe. Maybe. You’d like a cup of tea, I am sure. I have the kettle on the boil.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll get Kitty to bring it in. She’s my little maid.”

We were in a room with two small windows, each fitted with leaded panes. The heavy curtains made the room dark. The furniture was heavy, too, and there were several pictures on the walls. One was of a saint being stoned to death and another was of a woman, her body strapped to a stake of wood, her hands folded in prayer; she was standing in water and it was clearly meant to imply that when the tide rose she would be submerged. I read the title. “The Christian Martyr.” There was another picture of a big black cat with green eyes. The paint was luminous and it was most effective and inclined to be eerie. The creature seemed alive.

I felt oppressed and wished Fiona would appear, but I supposed at this time she would be working.

Mrs. Carling sat opposite me.

“I must explain about Kitty,” she said. “She’s a little backward. She came here one day, wanting me to do something for her. She had heard I cured people of some ailments. I took an interest in her. She had not had much of a chance, really. I thought a little care might help her. She could only stutter when she came to me … but she is improving. She is one of a large family. The father worked in the mines. Kitty’s brothers joined him and her sisters went into service. No one wanted to employ Kitty. They didn’t want her at home. Well, she came here and I took her in. I’ve trained her as well as I can. She’s a good child. She’s very grateful to me.”

“How kind of you.”

She smiled at me benignly. “I like to help people. Some of us are given special powers and we are meant to use them. If you don’t they can be taken from you.”

It was not long before Kitty brought in the tea. She was young, about sixteen, I imagined. She had a gentle self-deprecating manner and was clearly very eager to please.

Mrs. Carling indicated where she wanted the tray. Kitty set it down and gave a shy glance in my direction. I smiled at her; she returned the smile, which illuminated her face. I warmed to Mrs. Carling, who had clearly helped the poor girl considerably.

Mrs. Carling patted Kitty’s shoulder. “Good girl,” she said, and when she had gone, Mrs. Carling said: “Poor child. She is so anxious to do well. Now tell me, how do you like your tea?”

As we partook of the tea and little cakes, we talked. I asked how long she had been here.

“I came here with Fiona,” she told me. “It was when her parents had died and I had her to myself. So this has been our home all these years. The only time I was here alone was when she went away to school and then, of course, to Sir Harry Harcourt’s place. It was a blessing that she came back to me because of the work here.”

“You must have been rather sad when she went away.”

“Oh yes. But it was best for her and I knew she would come back. So I was able to endure the separation.”

“It must be very interesting to know such things.”

“Nothing is entirely fixed in life, you know. Disaster can threaten, but there are ways of avoiding it.”

“You mean it is up to a person whether he or she is involved in tragedy.”

“I just mean that there are times when it can be avoided.”

“So these things are not destined to happen.”

“Not exactly. They can be in our paths … but if we are aware of them, we can stop them happening.”

“How interesting!”

“It is just one of those gifts one is born with. You, my dear Miss Tremaston, are at this stage at a turning point in your life. That much I can sense immediately.”

I thought: She knows my mother has died and she will have heard how devoted we were. She probably guesses there will not be a great deal of money. It is a natural assumption.

She went on: “It may possibly be that I can help you.”

“I think it is a matter which will evolve naturally.”

“Maybe. But I want to help you.”

“It is very kind of you.”

“We are meant to help each other. We have been divinely endowed for that purpose and must not forget it. My dear Miss Tremaston, I know you need help. That is why I was so anxious that you should come to see me. You need help … urgently. When we have finished tea, I shall take you to my private sanctum. I have seen so many people there … and I believe have benefitted them. I am convinced that now I can be of help to you.”

I was both repelled and fascinated. There seemed to be something false about her and yet I could almost believe in her powers.

We left the tea tray and she led me up a short staircase to a room which had similar leaded windows and the same kind of heavy drapes, but being slightly higher, it was a little lighter. The first thing I noticed was the table covered with a green baize cloth and on a wooden stand was a large glass ball.

Mrs. Carling was standing close to me.

“It helps,” she murmured, “if you will take a seat here. I shall sit opposite.”

I sat down.

“Give me your hand.” She held mine across the table.

“Ah, I feel the waves coming over to me. We are in tune. My dear, I am going to be able to help you.”

Her heavy breathing was disrupting. I kept my eyes on the glass ball.

“Oh … I am aware of it now. My dear child, it is very close. You are threatened. Oh yes, it is there. I cannot but see it … I feel it … it is very close … oh, very close. How glad I am that I decided to speak to you. Oh yes … yes. It was time.”

I watched her while she laid her hand on the ball. She was staring into it.

“Danger,” she whispered. “Danger.”

“Where?” I asked. “From what?”

“I cannot quite see. It’s there … vague … menacing. No … I cannot quite see. But I know it is there.”

“You mean at Leverson Manor?”

She was nodding. “Enemies,” she said. “They are lying in wait … watching … waiting. Oh yes, this is a warning. No time to lose. You must go. Soon … it will be too late.”

“But what is this danger?”

“It is there … hovering over you. I see this black cloud. It is evil. I can tell you nothing more … only that it is there … near. It comes nearer … nearer. It is almost upon you. It is here … in this place. This is where danger awaits you. You must get away from here. You must not delay. There is still time.”

She fell back in her seat, breathing heavily. “No more,” she murmured. “No more … but it is enough.”

She leaned forward once more and looked into the ball.

“It is gone,” she said. “There is nothing more. You have had your warning. That is enough.”

Her breath was now coming in short gasps. “It is always so,” she muttered. “It is exhausting.”

I said: “Do you mean that you see me threatened … in that piece of glass? Then you must have seen who …”

She shook her head. “It is beyond our understanding. I see symbols. I sense that you are in danger. You have just suffered a great loss. You are alone … bewildered. This I knew when I first met you. And I knew, too, that there was some menace. You are in dangerous waters. That is all I can tell you, and you can avoid this danger by leaving this place. It could only happen here.”

I said: “Should I go back to the Manor and tell them that you have advised me to leave?”

She smiled slowly. “They would laugh. Lady Constance thinks that it is Lady Constance who rules the universe, not Almighty God. His ways are mysterious and a closed book to such as she is. Do not tell them you have seen me. Pack your bags. Make excuses if you must, but do not tell them what you have learned from me. You will not be understood.”

I rose unsteadily to my feet. I was considerably shaken by the experience even though I was inclined to be sceptical. This dark room seemed sinister and my strange companion was almost convincing me that I was in the presence of the supernatural.

I even felt then that my decision was being made for me. The thought occurred to me that I might be receiving guidance from my mother. If it were possible for her to come back to help me, I knew she would do so.

Then my thoughts had turned to Lady Constance. I knew that she hated me and wanted me gone.

“I can see you are distressed,” said Mrs. Carling. “Don’t be, my dear. You have had your warning. You and I clearly have been brought together for a purpose. Go back to London without delay and in a short time you will know what you have to do. This is not the place for you. That much is clear. The danger is here.”

“I am so uncertain. If only my mother were here … but then, if she were, none of this would have arisen.”

“It is no use saying if, my dear. Life moves on. What is to be will be.”

“Then perhaps I cannot avoid this … calamity which is waiting for me.”

“You can. You can. That is at the root of it. That is why I knew I had to see you. I had to look into the future for you. It was meant. I sensed it the moment I saw you … no … before— when I heard you were here. Go back, pack your bags … leave while there is time.”

I murmured: “I have to think about it.”

She smiled at me resignedly. “Your fate is in your hands. It is so with us all.”

I felt I had to get away.

I said: “Thank you, Mrs. Carling, for all you have done to help me.”

“I had to do it. It was my duty. The best repayment you can make is to get yourself out of danger.”

As I walked away from the cottage, the feeling that I had had a glimpse of the future began to recede. In the open air normality returned.

How had I allowed myself to be duped—even momentarily— by such a theatrical performance? Surely I, of all people, should know when people were playing a part. Of course, there was a certain atmosphere in the house. There was hostility towards me in the Manor. Perhaps I should go. My presence was obviously offensive to Lady Constance.

Mrs. Carling was right in one thing: I should leave Leverson Manor, but not because of any imminent danger. Mrs. Carling had been playing a part as surely as I had seen my mother do many times. There was a certain power in having knowledge which others did not possess. Mrs. Carling certainly had convinced herself that she had.

I went straight up to my room.

My problem was beginning to solve itself. I faced the facts. I was unwanted in some quarters of Leverson Manor and welcome in others.

But Mrs. Carling was right. I should get away. Yet when I encountered Charlie and Roderick that evening, I realized that I could not announce my impending departure without some reasonable excuse other than that an old woman who was possibly a little unbalanced had read my fate in a crystal ball.

I spent a sleepless night and awoke with the conviction that I must find a suitable excuse, and Charlie should be the one to receive it. He must understand Lady Constance’s aversion to me and surely he must have some guilty feelings about bringing me into the household. If I told Roderick that I intended to go, he would find all sorts of reasons why I should not. Charlie must realize the position and perhaps agree that, much as he wished to carry out my mother’s instructions to look after me, bringing me into his household was not the best way of doing it.

I awoke in the morning and went, as I usually did, to the window to look out on the splendour of the gardens, which were at their best at this time of day. It was fortuitous, for the first person I saw was Charlie, sitting on the wicker seat on the lawn, and he was alone.

Now was the time. I hastily washed and dressed, hoping that he would still be there when I was ready to go down. By good fortune he was. He called a cheery “Good morning” as I came out of the house and I went over to him.

“It’s a glorious morning,” he said.

“Charlie,” I told him. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sit down,” he said, looking at me anxiously. “Is anything wrong?”

“Yes, it is. I have to go, Charlie. I can’t stay here.”

He was silent for a few moments. Then he asked: “Is it … my wife?”

“Well, yes. She doesn’t want me here.”

“She will change.”

“I don’t think she will. After all, it is asking a lot of her.”

He brooded for a moment. “She will grow accustomed to having you around,” he said, with more hope than conviction.

“No, Charlie, she will not. And I have decided that I must go.”

“Where to? And what will you do?”

“I have to make up my mind. The blow came too suddenly. It was the last thing I expected. She was so well … and she had such vitality … and then, to go like that.”

He held my hand and pressed it. He understood; he felt the same.

“What can I do, Charlie?” I asked.

“There is always a home for you here. I promised her …”

“I know. But she would be the first to understand that I have to go, and the sooner, the better.”

“To London?”

“Just at first. I thought I might get some post.”

“Post? What sort of post?”

“Governess. Companion. That is what most people do when they are in my position.”

“It would not do for you, Noelle. You have your mother’s independent spirit.”

“An independent spirit is all very well if you have the means to support it. I know roughly what my position is. I shall have to consider.”

“My dear Noelle, there is no need to think about that. I am going to give you an allowance.”

“Thank you, Charlie, but I could not accept it. I want to stand on my own feet. When the solicitors have worked things out in detail, I shall know exactly where I stand and what I can do. Very shortly I am going to Mason, Mason & Crevitt and everything will be clear. In the meantime I shall go back to London. Robert will let me stay in the house for a while.”

“Robert bought the house so that it would always be a home for you … in the way it always had been.”

“I cannot take that from him, any more than I can take an allowance from you. I shall not be entirely penniless. Compared with some people, I shall be affluent. Charlie, I have to get away.”

“I have sworn to look after you, Noelle. I promised your mother. She made me swear.”

“Yes, I know you promised her, but she did not foresee difficulties. And … I have made up my mind.”

He sighed. Then he said: “Very soon I shall be going abroad on business. Probably the day after tomorrow. I shall be away for several weeks. Promise me this. You will not go until I come back.”

I could almost hear the voice of Mrs. Carling: “You must get away at once.”

She seemed a long way from reality. Out here in the fresh morning air, I could tell myself that it was ridiculous to be influenced by an old woman with a crystal ball. It smacked of theatrical melodrama. I was sure Charlie would have laughed it to scorn if I had told him.

“That’s a promise, then,” he said. “I tell you what we’ll do, Noelle. Why not go and see your solicitor now? You could travel up to London with me and stay at our place, or your old home. It need only be for a night or two. You could hear what the solicitor has to say and then we could discuss it when I get back. How’s that?”

“Yes. It sounds sensible.”

“You don’t want to rush into anything. You’re shocked, Noelle, still. We all are. It was so sudden and she meant so much to us. We can’t think clearly. I want to know you are under my roof. That is what she wanted. I don’t want you to be in London … alone. So let’s fix it, shall we? You and I will go to London. I shall be going off to the Continent at once. You’ll stay there for a day or so and then come back here. I promise you that when I return to Leverson, we’ll go into all this thoroughly.”

“Yes,” I said. “That seems a good idea.”

I was relieved. In spite of the hostility of Lady Constance, the warning from Mrs. Carling and the feeling that I should not be here, I did not want to leave Leverson.

The Fire and the Rain

Charlie and I arrived in London in the late afternoon. I was deeply moved to be back, and the familiar sights gave me mingling feelings of pleasure and pain. Everywhere there was so much to remind me of her. Charlie and I said little, but we understood each other’s mood because we shared it.

I was staying at his London house. I could have gone to my old home, but I thought that would have been too painful just yet, and there was a certain anonymity about Charlie’s pied-a-terre, something impersonal which suited me at the moment.

The following day Charlie left for the Continent and I went to Mason, Mason & Crevitt. The result of that interview was the assurance that the capital left by my mother would bring me in a small income—enough to live on frugally—so there was no immediate need to think of augmenting it. The position was much as I had thought it to be. If there had been an urgent need, I should have had to take some action. I almost wished there had been something more positive.

I decided that I would not return to Leverson yet.

It was inevitable that I should call at my old home. I had walked past it and resisted the impulse to knock at the door. I kept remembering too much, even in the street. There was the spot where Lisa Fennell had fallen in front of the carriage and so come into our lives. There was the window where I used to watch for my mother’s return from the theatre.

I had felt then that it would be unbearable to go inside.

But the next day the urge to go in was too strong to resist.

When I knocked at the door, it was opened by Jane. She stared at me for a second and then her face broke into a wide smile.

“Miss Noelle!”

“Yes, Jane,” I said. “It is.”

“Oh, come in. I’ll tell Mrs. Crimp.”

“I was passing,” I began, “and I …”

But she was not listening. She ran through the hall and I followed. “Mrs. Crimp! Mrs. Crimp! Look who’s here!”

And there was Mrs. Crimp, her face creased with emotion. She rushed towards me and enfolded me in her arms.

“Oh, Mrs. Crimp,” I said, my voice trembling.

“There!” said Mrs. Crimp. “Oh, Miss Noelle, it is good to see you.”

“I passed yesterday, but I couldn’t …”

“I know. I know. Come along in. Oh, Miss Noelle, it brings it all back, it does.” She took a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. Then she straightened herself and said briskly: “You’d better come to my room. I want to hear how you’re getting on.”

“And how are you getting on, Mrs. Crimp?”

“Oh … it’s not the same. ‘Caretakers,’ I said to Mr. Crimp. That’s what we are!’ When I think of the old days … I tell you, I could sit down and have a good cry.”

I felt my face twist in misery, and she went on: “We’ve all taken it bad. Well, there was no one like her. Never was and never will be. She was one on her own. But it’s gone and we’ve got to try to forget. But … what wouldn’t I give to have her back. Come to my room and we’ll have a little chat. Jane, tell Carrie to bring up some of that special wine and the biscuits to go with it. I baked a fresh batch of them only this morning.”

I felt I should not have come. It was too painful. Every part of the house reminded me.

We sat in her room and she said: “How are you getting on with Mr. Charlie?”

“Oh, there’s a beautiful house, but I am not sure whether I shall be staying there. I have to make plans, you see.”

“We were hoping you’d be coming back.”

“It isn’t my house now, Mrs. Crimp.”

“Well, Monsewer Robber wouldn’t mind. He’s an easygoing gentleman. Not here much. It’s a funny sort of arrangement. Here we are, qualified butler and housekeeper, and no one to buttle and housekeep for. Different from the old days. My goodness, the comings and goings then. Now Monsewer Robber looks in for a while and that’s all. Gives us a free hand to keep the place going. I reckon he’d be glad if you came back to us, Miss Noelle. He was here two weeks ago. Wanted to know if you’d been back. I think he’d like you to make use of the place. That Miss Fennell seems to have made it her home.”

“Is she getting on all right?”

“She’s in that Rags and Tatters. It’s not doing bad, they say … and it’s not doing so well. How could it without … ? Miss Fennell’s pleased with herself. We hear her often practising the songs. She’s always saying she’s going to get a place of her own … but I suppose this is convenient and free … so you can’t blame her. We like to have someone about the place. It makes it a bit more lively. Monsewer Robber doesn’t mind. I think he’d rather there was someone here from the old days.”

“Is Miss Fennell here now?”

“No. She’s popped out for a bit. She’ll be pleased to hear you called. I’d have thought you might have stayed here. I’d have your room ready in a jiff. The place is all the same. Her rooms are not touched. Monsewer Robber didn’t want them to be. When he comes here he goes to her room and stays there quite a bit. I really get worried about him. He was so fond of her.”

“I know.”

“You’re not thinking of coming back?”

“My plans are rather uncertain at the moment.”

“We’d like to have you here,” she said wistfully. “I was saying to Mr. Crimp only the other day, I said, ‘If Miss Noelle came back, it would be a little like the old days.’ “

“People can’t go back, Mrs. Crimp.”

“That’s a fact, if ever there was one. Mr. Crimp and me … we get really down sometimes thinking of the old days. There was always something going on … that Mr. Charlie and that Mr. Robber and them all popping in, and as for that Dolly … he was a regular caution. Then there was that Martha Gee. She was a real old battle-axe, she was.”

I drank a glass of wine and complimented her on her biscuits, remembering how she had always loved receiving compliments.

“It’s like the old days, sitting here talking to you, Miss Noelle,” she told me. “You’ll have to have a word with Jane and Carrie. We don’t have a carriage now. No use for it. We’re a small household. Monsewer Robber would be so pleased if you was to come back. We understood he took the house so that you could use it. Now it seems he’s done it all for that Miss Fennell. That’s all very well, but she’s not the family, is she? Mr. Crimp and me … we’re always hoping you’ll come back.”

There was a pleading note in her voice, and I said: “I can’t say anything at the moment, Mrs. Crimp. I have to see how things go.”

“You like it in the country with that Mr. Charlie’s family, do you?”

“Well … it’s not my home, you see …”

“You’d be better with us. Oh, I know there’s all this to remind you. Every day something comes to me and I say, this is where she did this … or that. There’s no getting away from it. But I wouldn’t want to go away. I like to be in the old place, even though it’s so different without her.”

“I understand what you mean. I like to be here … and on the other hand there are all the memories to remind me.”

We sat in silence for a few moments thinking of her, then I said I would go.

“Just have a word with Jane and Carrie … and would you like to look at her rooms? Maybe not. Perhaps later. As I said, they’re all kept as they were. Monsewer Robber’s orders. When he comes here he goes up there. He even sleeps in her bedroom sometimes. He’s a funny man, that Monsewer Robber. Well, he’s a foreigner. He’s not like Mr. Charlie. You know where you stand with him.”

I had a talk with Jane and Carrie and I was gratified, for they showed as clearly as Mrs. Crimp had that they were delighted to see me.

How different from Lady Constance!

Perhaps I should come back … for a short while at least. Would it help me to sort out my life back in that house where her presence permeated the household so strongly?

I steeled myself to go to her rooms. They were just as she had left them. Her clothes were hanging in the wardrobe: I could smell her perfume still. It was almost as though she lingered on … reluctant to go.

In those rooms I could feel that she was somewhere close, looking down on me, caring for me, trying to guide me in the way I should go.

It was late afternoon when I returned to Charlie’s house. I felt emotionally drained and a little comforted.

I had not been in the house half an hour when I was told that there was a visitor for me in the drawing room.

I went downstairs. There was Lisa Fennell.

She looked well and prosperous.

She took both my hands and kissed them.

“They told me you had been,” she said.

“It was so good to see them.”

“I wished I had been at home. As soon as I heard you had called, I came right over. I can’t stay. I have to get to the theatre, but I had to see you first. How long will you be in London?”

“I only came for a day or so but I may stay longer.”

“Oh, you must. Noelle, how are you … really?”

“I’m all right, thanks. And you?”

“All right. It has been awful … I can’t forget. You’re better with Charlie.”

“He is going to be away for a few weeks.”

“And what about … ?”

“Roderick? Oh, he’s at Leverson Manor, of course. It’s a vast estate. Roderick and Charlie have to spend a lot of time on it.”

“I daresay they do. I suppose you and Roderick see a lot of each other?”

“Yes. He’s been teaching me to ride. I shall soon be proficient, he tells me.”

“That must be interesting. And Charlie, of course, is a dear man. And his wife … ?”

“Oh yes, Lady Constance.”

“I expect you get along well with her.”

“She is rather formal.”

She nodded, sensing the meaning in my words.

I said quickly: “But tell me, Lisa, how are you getting on?”

“I can’t grumble. It’s good to be working.”

“I heard. In Rags and Tatters. What sort of a show is it?”

“The usual song-and-dance affair.”

“And all is going well?”

“Not badly. Front row of the chorus, and what do you think? Dolly has made me understudy to Lottie Langdon.”

“That’s good, is it not?”

“I think so. I shall never cease to be grateful. I owe everything to your mother.”

“Well, she made Dolly take you in in the first place.”

“She was wonderful.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. Then I said: “We’ve got to try to forget the past.”

“It’s not easy.”

She smiled in an attempt at brightness. “You must come and see Rags and Tatters while you’re here.”

“I’d like to.”

“It’s playing to full houses at the moment. But Lottie is not …”

“No. No one could be.”

“I could get a good seat for you the night after tomorrow. Dolly would see to that.”

I hesitated. It would be an excuse to stay on and there was only one reason why I wanted to return to Leverson, and that was to see Roderick, whom I realized I was missing more than I had thought I would.

I said quickly: “That would be very nice, Lisa. I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

“That’s fixed, then. The night after tomorrow.”

Roderick arrived in London. I was preparing to go out, in a somewhat listless fashion, when there was a tap on my door.

I called: “Come in.” And there was Roderick.

My pleasure must have been obvious. He seized my hands, laughing.

“I thought I’d look you up,” he said. “It’s a long time since I saw you.”

“Three days,” I said.

“It seemed longer. When are you coming back?”

“I … I’m not sure.”

“I thought you had just come up for a meeting with the solicitor. Surely you have had that by now? I thought I would come and see what was delaying you.”

“Oh, Roderick, how nice you are!”

“I’m only being truthful. We missed you.”

We? I thought. Lady Constance?

“Roderick,” I said. “You must see that I can’t go on encroaching on your family’s hospitality.”

“What nonsense! My father would be most put out if he heard you say that.”

“And your mother?”

“Oh, she’ll come round in time.”

I sighed. I could not believe that. At the same time, I was pleased that he wanted my return so much that he brushed it aside. I should have liked to talk to him seriously about my position, but that was too delicate a matter to be lightly discussed.

“How did the meeting go? Fruitfully, I hope.”

“As expected. I have enough to live … quite humbly …so that gives me time to decide what I shall do without making rash decisions.”

He looked pensive, and I thought he was going to say something, but he seemed to change his mind. After a pause, he said: “What else have you done?”

“Do you remember Lisa Fennell?”

“Of course. She was the understudy.”

“That’s right. I’ve seen her. She is still at the house. Robert said she could stay until she found somewhere to live. She is in something called Rags and Tatters. I am going to see it tonight.”

“By yourself?”

“That won’t matter. I shall know people in the company. Dolly will be there, of course. He’ll bring me home.”

“I think you should have an escort. I shall come with you.”

“Oh? Would you like that?”

“Nothing better. I shall go right away to see about the seats.”

I was feeling happier.

“That won’t be necessary. Lisa’s in the chorus. She said something about seats. I must let her know there will be two of us.”

“It is going to be a very interesting evening,” he said.

It was wonderful to be with him. We lunched near Hyde Park and afterwards went for a walk there and sat by the Serpentine. During that time he persuaded me to go back with him the next day. I have to admit I needed little persuasion. My visit to London had shown me that there was nothing there for me but poignant memories from which I could not escape.

Moreover, I was facing my true feelings for Roderick. In his company I was happier than I thought it possible to be after losing my mother, and I was beginning to think that he was the only one who could give me compensation for what I had lost.

During that day in Hyde Park, I was almost happy.

Lisa had told Dolly that I proposed to come to see the show with a friend, and he had arranged seats in the stalls. I knew it would be an emotional experience, going to the theatre where my mother had last performed, and I steeled myself for it.

When the curtain rose, I quickly identified Lisa. I watched her closely. She was outstanding. She sang the songs with special verve and danced abandonedly. I was not surprised that Dolly had chosen her to understudy Lottie Langdon. Lottie herself was a very professional performer, but she lacked the charisma which had been so much a part of my mother’s personality.

The play was a trivial piece, but no more so than Countess Maud, yet it lacked flair, which meant that it lacked Desiree.

Dolly came to us in the interval. He wanted to know how I was getting on, and looked at me with such tenderness that I felt a rush of emotion.

“If there is anything you want, you know …”

“Oh, Dolly,” I said. “I know.”

“That’s the spirit. What do you think of the show?”

Roderick joined me in saying that it was most enjoyable.

“Not bad,” said Dolly. “If only …” He sighed sadly.

“How’s Lisa Fennell getting on?” I asked him.

“Not bad,” he said again. “Not bad at all. She’s enthusiastic, I’ll say that for her … and that’s half the battle. She’s no Desiree, of course, but then, who ever would be?”

We were silent for a moment, thinking of her.

“I’d like to see Lisa after the show,” I said.

“Go along to her dressing room. You’ll see her there. It’s the second of the chorus rooms. You know the way.”

“I know it well.”

“Are you going to be long in London?”

“No,” answered Roderick. “We are going back tomorrow.”

“Charlie well?”

“Yes. He’s on the Continent at the moment. He’ll probably be away for some weeks.”

“Well, I must leave you. Bound to be some drama backstage. Never knew a show without them. I’ll be seeing you again soon, Noelle. You know there’ll be a seat for you at any of my shows.”

“Thank you, Dolly.”

He kissed me and left us; and after the show was over we went to the chorus dressing room and found Lisa.

She was delighted to see us.

“You must come out and have supper with us,” said Roderick.

Her face lit up with pleasure. “That would be wonderful! Can you give me a few minutes to change?”

While we waited for her, we talked to the doorman, who was overjoyed to see me.

“It seems a long time since you used to come here,” he said to me. “Things don’t seem the same. Desiree was wonderful. Always a cheery word and a smile. It’s not the same without her.”

I thought: There is everything and everyone here to remind me.

Lisa was animated at supper that night. She was so excited about her career, which was progressing well.

“Of course, I am only in the chorus,” she explained. “But that’s going to change. The fact that Dolly has made me understudy to Lottie shows it. What I’m waiting for is the chance to show them what I can do.”

I could not help thinking of her chance which had come through my mother’s illness … that slight indisposition which had resulted in her death.

“The opportunity will come one day,” said Roderick. “The great thing in life is to be ready for it when it does.”

“I know that’s true. I shall be ready. I’d love to be in something better than Rags and Tatters. “

“You will,” prophesied Roderick.

She was smiling at him. “Now tell me about yourself and that wonderful place where the Romans were.”

“Noelle is very interested in it.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “It is quite fascinating. I have been allowed to help clean some of the fragments of pottery and things which have been found.”

“How wonderful! I should love to see it.”

“You must come down one day,” said Roderick.

I could not help wondering what Lady Constance’s reaction would be if she were confronted by a dancer from the chorus of Rags and Tatters. It was a thought which depressed me, reminding me as it did of my own reception.

I was rather silent, and Roderick, with his quick understanding of other people’s feelings, realized that the theatre had brought back memories. It was too soon to have come back.

I should have more chance of putting the past behind me away from London. I was right to have decided to go back with Roderick … for a time at least.

I was greeted coolly by Lady Constance, who managed to convey that she was disappointed and had hoped that I might stay in London. Gertie was delighted to see me. It was from her that I learned the news.

“The weather’s been something shocking. It started to rain the day you left and has hardly stopped since. The river overflowed and there was a bit of trouble near all that Roman stuff. Stands to reason … all that digging. Then Grace tripped down the stairs and hurt her ankle.”

Grace was one of the maids who looked after Lady Constance’s rooms. She was more mature than most of them and had been with the household since she was thirteen.

“I hope she wasn’t badly hurt,” I said.

“Well, she’s had to lay up. Mustn’t put her foot to the ground, so the doctor says. Lady Constance sent for the doctor. So it’s me that has to do her ladyship’s rooms now.” She grimaced.

“And that does not please you, Gertie?”

“You know what her ladyship is like. She’s that particular. I’d rather look after you, miss.”

“Thank you, Gertie, but I expect Grace will be better soon.”

“Can’t be too soon for me.”

I went to see Fiona. She welcomed me warmly and told me about the flooding and the land falling in. “It’s not far from the mosaic paving,” she said. “I was very excited when it happened. I thought it might reveal something. I daresay there will be some investigation soon, but the land is too soggy at the moment. As soon as it’s a little drier, they’ll probably get to work on it.”

“I wonder if they will discover something else.”

“It’s a possibility. We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, have a look at this drinking vessel. Look at the intricate engraving on it. I’m having a lovely time piecing it together.”

While she was showing me, Mrs. Carling arrived. There was a certain reproach in the look she gave me which I knew meant that she was disappointed in me for not taking her advice to stay away.

“Miss Tremaston has been to London,” said Fiona. “She and Roderick came back yesterday.”

“Travelled together, did you?”

“Yes,” I answered. “He came to London while I was there. So … we came back together.”

“London must seem exciting … after this,” said Mrs. Carling.

“Oh, it is very pleasant here. And all this …” I waved my hand towards the site. “I find it most exciting.”

She gave me a penetrating look, and Fiona said: “I’ll make some coffee.”

“I’ll do that,” put in Mrs. Carling. “You get on showing Miss Tremaston those things.”

As we sat drinking the coffee, I was aware of Mrs. Carling’s attention, which seemed to be fixed on me.

I guessed she was really hurt, and a little angry, because I had not taken her advice.

It was midmorning. Roderick had gone off early with the agent on estate business, and I was wondering what I should do. I should have liked to ride out somewhere … perhaps down to the sea or through some of the little villages in the neighbourhood, but I was not really proficient enough to go out alone. Very soon I hoped to be.

I decided I would stroll down to see Fiona, which was becoming quite a habit. She seemed to like my company and clearly enjoyed talking about the artifacts and how she was treating them.

I was descending the stairs past those rooms which were occupied by Lady Constance when I noticed the door of one of them was open.

Gertie must have heard my footsteps, for she came out.

“Miss,” she whispered. “I have to show you this … it’s what I’ve found.” She put her fingers to her lips, and added: “Come in.”

I hesitated. This was Lady Constance’s bedroom, where Gertie had been working since Grace was unable to.

“You must see,” went on Gertie. “You’ll be ever so interested.”

Still I held back.

“Look … I’ll show you …”

She retreated into the room. I still stood at the door. I watched her go to the dressing table; she opened a drawer and took out a book. It was fairly large … a kind of scrapbook. She spread it out on the dressing-table top and looked over her shoulder at me conspiratorily, jerking her head in a beckoning manner.

I should have refused, I knew, but I acted on impulse and tiptoed into the room.

Gertie pointed to the open book.

I approached and gasped, for I could see a picture of my mother there. I remembered that picture well. It was taken while she was playing in Sweet Lavender. I knew the dress … a lavender-coloured crinoline. There was a mauve velvet band about her neck with some brilliants in the front.

I could not stop myself then. I went closer.

“D6siree, Miss Lavender, dominates the stage,” I read. “Her scintillating presence can even light up this dull piece.”

I felt the tears in my eyes, and for a few seconds I forgot to wonder why a picture of my mother should be in a scrapbook which must belong to Lady Constance.

“It’s all about her, miss,” Gertie was saying. “Look.” She turned a page. There were pictures of my mother … sometimes with other actors and actresses. “Desiree in Passion Flower”; “Desiree in Red Roses for May. ” The cuttings were all about her. “Desiree, looking exquisite, brought something to the tired old songs.” “The Girl from the Country: a poor thing but Desiree’s own.”

The scrapbook was full of these pieces. Someone had taken the trouble to cut them out and paste them in this book.

I was completely absorbed. Once again my memory was betraying me.

Then suddenly I was struck with horror. A shiver ran through me. I knew instinctively, before I turned, that we were being watched.

Lady Constance was standing in the doorway.

She advanced towards us. Her eyes went to the scrapbook. She said in icy tones: “I was wondering to what I owed your presence in my room.”

“Oh …” I stammered. “I was passing … and I just stopped to speak to Gertie.”

Gertie was trembling. With a nervous gesture she closed the book and put it into the open drawer from which she had taken it.

“I thought you would have finished at least ten minutes ago,” said Lady Constance to Gertie. “Grace never took so long.”

I muttered something about just going out. She nodded at me and, overcome by embarrassment and guilt, I escaped.

My thoughts were in a turmoil as I went out of the house. I felt the cool breeze on my heated face. What a terrible situation! How could I have been so foolish? I had allowed myself to pry into her secrets.

There was no doubt in my mind that she was the one who had cut out those pictures, who had pasted the notices into the book, who had read them and suffered over them and been tortured by them.

I had know the depth of Charlie’s feelings for my mother, and so had Lady Constance.

Gertie was frightened. She told me that she had indeed “cooked her goose.” Now she was waiting for the blow to fall.

“She didn’t say much,” she went on. “But if looks could have killed, I would have dropped down stone dead. It’s just that I know she’ll be watching me all the time … looking for trouble. I know she is just waiting to pounce … and I don’t know what I’ll do, miss, I really don’t. You see, how will I get another place? Stands to reason, she wouldn’t give me a reference, would she?

And there’s all them at home … too young to go out and earn. You see, miss?”

I did see and I was desperately sorry for her.

I also had some pity for Lady Constance, for I felt I knew what had helped to make her what she was. I could not stop thinking of how she must have felt for all those years. She must have loved Charlie. I had sensed that. Charlie and Roderick were everything to her. And through the years she had known of her husband’s devotion to Desiree. Naturally she had wanted to know as much as possible about her rival. She had made a scrapbook about her career. It was pitiable. Poor Lady Constance! And poor Gertie!

The accident to the bust on the stairs happened three days later.

The bust was of one of the members of the family in the uniform of a general. It was placed on a carved mahogany pedestal and stood on a landing in between the second flight of stairs and the third.

It was one of Gertie’s duties to clean the stairs. I had heard her refer to the bust as “the old un with the cap and the whiskers.” The whiskers had been sculpted with skill and the peaked cap and uniform suggested a somewhat formidable general of great dignity.

“He gives me the creeps,” Gertie said of him. “I always think he’s watching if I do the corners right and that he’s just about to give me a telling-off. Yesterday he wobbled. That thing’s not strong enough for him. He’s too grand for it.”

As I came onto the stairs, Gertie was beside the bust with a feather duster in her hand.

“Hello, miss,” she said. “Off out?”

I said I was.

“Going to that Miss Vance, I reckon. You like those old bits and pieces they’ve found, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

She was smiling at me rather indulgently. She moved a little closer to the bust and, as she did so, she swayed slightly and clutched at the pedestal for support. The figure swayed for a fraction of a second, then it clattered to the floor. I jumped back, for it was very heavy. I stared at it in horror while Gertie looked on in utter dismay.

“Gawd help me! This is the end,” she murmured.

We both must have noticed at the same time that the tip of the general’s nose was lying on the carpet beside a piece of his ear. I thought flippantly: The general will never look the same again.

My flippancy was short-lived when I looked at poor Gertie’s face, which was woebegone with hopeless fear. I was ashamed that I could have been amused even for an instant.

I made a sudden decision.

“I’ll say I did it,” I told Gertie. “I’ll say I was passing the plinth. It was insecure, I brushed against it accidentally and immediately it toppled off.”

Hope shone in Gertie’s face. “Oh, miss, you couldn’t do that!” she said.

“I could.”

“Her ladyship will be very angry.”

“I shall have to accept that.”

“She don’t like you very much already, miss … not any more than she likes me.”

“But you would lose your job. As for me … well, she can’t dislike me more than she does already, and if she asks me to go, I can do so. It’s different with me.”

“The master wouldn’t let you go. Nor would Mr. Roderick. They like you too much. And she does take notice of them.”

“Leave it to me, Gertie.”

“Oh, miss, you’re just wonderful!”

“I’d better see her right away.”

Resolutely I went up the stairs. Gertie was looking at me with something like adoration in her eyes.

I knocked at the door of Lady Constance’s sitting room and she called: “Come in.”

“Good afternoon,” she said coldly.

“Good afternoon,” I replied. “I am afraid there has been an accident.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I am very sorry,” I went on. “As I was passing the bust on the stairs, I must have touched it and it fell off the pedestal. I am very much afraid that it has been damaged.”

“The bust? You mean the general?”

“Yes,” I said. “The bust on the landing.”

“I’d better see what harm has been done.”

I followed her down the stairs and, as I did so, saw Gertie making a hasty exit.

Lady Constance stared at the statue in dismay.

“Dear me,” she said. “It has been in the family ever since it was made.”

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

She was staring at the tip of the general’s nose.

“It is most unfortunate.”

I felt deflated, but all the time I was thinking of Gertie, who was saved—at least for a time.

After that, I was very much aware of Lady Constance’s eyes upon me. She seemed to be watching me at every moment. Although nothing more was said about the broken bust, it was constantly on our minds. I thought she was gloating over my discomfiture, hoping I would commit some other offence, something which would make it impossible for me to stay on.

I promised myself that, as soon as Charlie returned, I would tell him I must get away. I had, however, promised to stay until his return, so I must do so. On the other hand, I could go to London for a short visit again. The truth was that I did not want to. I did not know which was worse: to stay here, under the resentful eyes of Lady Constance, or to return to the perpetual memories of London.

I was living in a world of despair in which there was a faint glimmer of hope that, through Roderick, I might escape to a brighter future.

I confessed to myself that I stayed because of him.

All the same, I began to get an obsession about Lady Constance. I had nightmares and in my dreams I was afraid of her. In one, she came to my bedside and offered me a glass of wine, which I knew was poisoned. I awoke screaming: “No … no!”

In daylight I could laugh at myself. I reasoned: You have suffered a great shock … far greater than you realize. You are not your normal self. Lady Constance naturally does not want you here. It was a mistake on Charlie’s part to bring you here and when you realized the position you should have retired gracefully, even though it did mean hurting Charlie. And let’s admit it, it was not really what you wanted to do. It was all because you needed affection, reassurance, and Charlie, who had been your mother’s friend of long standing, was the best able to give it—so she had thought. Moreover, there was Roderick. But, for all that, you had to accept the animosity—even malevolence—of Lady Constance.

But the situation was decidedly uncomfortable and, in addition, I had allowed the vague warnings of Mrs. Carling to unnerve me a little. When I was out in the fresh air, I thought of her as a harmless old lady who liked to imagine herself a seer. There was no harm in listening to her, humouring her, when I was in her company; but in the middle of the night, after a frightening dream, she seemed a significant figure, and I told myself I should listen to her prophecies of the evil which was overhanging my life, and I could not stop thinking of the hatred which I was sure Lady Constance felt towards me.

When I looked at the matter calmly, I could tell myself that I was in a vulnerable state, and just because one terrible tragedy had overtaken me, that did not mean that others were waiting to beset me. I must wait patiently for Charlie’s return and then make plans. Meanwhile, I must forget the dislike Lady Constance felt for me and the mystic warnings of a fanciful old woman.

At the back of my mind was the problem of my feelings for Roderick. I was falling in love with him, and I felt sure he had some special feeling for me.

One morning Gertie came to my room full of excitement. She set down the hot water and turned to me.

“Oh, miss,” she said. “There’s been a fire in the night. What do you think? It was at the cottage … you know … the one where Miss Vance does her work.”

I sat up in bed. “How terrible! Is there much damage?”

“No … hardly any. Thanks to the rain, they say. It’s been pouring cats and dogs all through the night. It must have started just after the fire. Farmer Merritt was driving his dogcart home late at night and saw smoke coming from it. He gave the alarm. Then, of course, there was the rain … heavy stuff, so there wasn’t the damage there might have been.”

“Oh, dear. I wonder what Miss Vance will do.”

“It’s not all that bad, they say. Makes you wonder, though. Good job nobody was there.”

Everyone was talking about the fire.

I saw Roderick at breakfast. He said he had already been over to take a look at it.

“It’s the upper rooms,” he said. “It’s a good thing we had that torrential rain … and of course Tom Merritt’s just happening to be out that way. He’d been coming home late with his wife. They’d been visiting a friend, and they took the shortcut past the remains. He was able to give the alarm and it was soon under control.”

“Poor Fiona.”

“She’ll be there this morning. Why don’t you come along with me? I shall be going over there shortly.”

I said I should like to.

As we walked over, he said: “One wonders how a fire could start in such a place.”

“You don’t think … ?”

“It was deliberate? Good heavens, no. Why should anyone want to?”

“There are people who have odd ideas … disturbing the dead and that sort of thing.”

He laughed. “I don’t know of anyone who would feel all that consideration for the Romans.”

“Well, there must have been a reason.”

“Was there lightning last night? The place might have been struck perhaps.”

“That’s a possibility.”

We found Fiona already there. She was most distressed.

“How could it have happened?” she cried. “I really cannot understand.”

“Never mind,” said Roderick. “What harm’s done?”

“The rooms upstairs are in a mess. Something will have to be done about the roof. Fortunately everything is all right down here.”

“All the artifacts in perfect order?”

“It seems so … just as they were.”

“That’s something to be thankful for.”

“Let’s have a look at the damage upstairs,” said Roderick.

We mounted the stairs. There was a bed in each room and these were decidedly damp. There was one part of the ceiling through which one could glimpse the sky.

Roderick said: “That can be put right today … preferably before there is more rain.”

“We have to be grateful to the rain.”

“And to Tom Merritt,” added Roderick.

“It would have been such a blow if the whole place had been damaged.”

There were footsteps on the stairs and we all looked towards the door, which opened to disclose Mrs. Carling.

“I’ve come over to see the damage,” she said. “Oh, my goodness! You won’t be able to work here, Fiona.”

“Downstairs is all right. You wouldn’t know there had been a fire.”

Mrs. Carling pursed her lips. “This will need a good deal of repairing,” she said.

“There is not a great deal of damage, when you come to assess it,” said Roderick.

“All the same …”

“Let’s go down and have a look,” went on Roderick.

He led the way downstairs, and we stood in the room where Fiona worked.

“You see,” said Fiona to her grandmother, “there is nothing much changed down here. Fortunately farmer Merritt saw it in time … and then there was the rain.”

“I haven’t seen rain like it for years,” said Mrs. Carling.

“Providence looking after us,” commented Fiona lightly. “It would have been a tragedy to have lost anything down here.”

“Oh, sometimes good comes out of evil,” said Mrs. Carling, staring ahead, as though into the future.

Fiona looked at her quickly.

“Well,” went on Mrs. Carling. “You might have had a better place to work.”

“But this is ideal,” cried Fiona. “It’s right on the spot. I have everything at my fingertips. It couldn’t be better.”

“You know I could always find a room for you at the Manor,” said Roderick.

“There, Fiona!” cried Mrs. Carling. “That would be very nice.”

“It is nice of you,” said Fiona, “and thanks for suggesting it. But it is best here. You see, there is nothing like being on the site, as it were.”

“I have offered it before,” said Roderick. “After all, it’s all on Leverson land.”

“I’m perfectly all right here,” insisted Fiona. “And it won’t take long to put the roof right.”

“It will be repaired today,” Roderick assured her. “It must be. Then, of course, the stuff up there will have to be taken out. What do you want in its place?”

“Just a few bits and pieces. A chair or two … a table. Some of what’s up there may still be all right.”

“Well, that will be sorted out. You’re sure I can’t tempt you to come up to the Manor?”

Mrs. Carling was watching her granddaughter intently. “It would be very nice,” she said, almost coaxingly.

“I’m sure it would,” said Fiona firmly. “But I’m perfectly all right here.”

Mrs. Carling pursed her lips. For a moment she looked almost venomous. I could see she was very displeased with Fiona.

She said she had to leave us, and rather abruptly did so.

“Poor Granny,” said Fiona. “She has always thought I shouldn’t be working here in this place. She says it is like a shack.”

“Well, the offer is open,” said Roderick. “I’d find a comfortable room for you.”

“I know. But you do understand, don’t you? It wouldn’t be the same. I want to be here … close to everything.”

“Of course,” said Roderick.

“When it’s all patched up, it will be as good as ever.”

“I’m going off now to arrange that patching-up. We must get the roof done. It looks as though we might be getting some more rain soon. So … it’s imperative.”

When he left us and we were alone together, Fiona said: “The idea of having a room at the Manor doesn’t appeal to me at all.”

“No? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable?”

“Decidedly not. Her ladyship would not like it. As a matter of fact, she is not very fond of me.”

“She does not like me either.”

“Of course not. She does not like any young woman not of her choosing to be friendly with her son.”

“I see.”

“You and I both come into that category. She thinks we have designs on Roderick, and she is preserving him for higher things. It’s rather amusing. She would do anything to keep me from seeing more of Roderick. Just imagine what it would be like if I were on the premises! It’s bad enough having me here. I am sure she wishes that the site had never been discovered.”

My spirits rose a little. It was comforting to find someone in the same position as I was—although I suppose her resentment for me had sprung from Charlie’s relationship with my mother, although she would have noticed my growing friendship with Roderick.

“So that is why you don’t want to have a room in the house?”

“Well, if I thought it would be better for the work, I would put up with Lady Constance’s disapproval. But I don’t think it would be, and it’s true that I think this is better for work.”

Her work, I thought, seems more important to her than Roderick’s presence, and that thought gave me a certain pleasure and relief.

The mystery as to how the fire in the cottage had started was the main topic of conversation in the neighbourhood for several days. Theories were put forward, and the favourite one was that a tramp had got in and set it alight. Some asked why should he want to destroy a place which was his shelter. The answer was that he lighted a pipe and started it that way; then it got out of control, so he ran off and left.

Gertie told me what was being said. She had thought—and this was the general view—that Miss Vance would have had a room at the Manor. Mr. Roderick had been heard to say that this was what she should do—at least while the place was being repaired.

“Poor Miss Fiona,” said Gertie. “Such a nice lady … a real lady. Never gave herself airs. A regular life they say she has with that old grandmother.”

“She never says …”

“Oh no. She wouldn’t … not about her own grandmother. But she’s a strange one, that Mrs. Carling.”

“I believe she has something of a reputation.”

“Oh yes. Well, she’s good with girls in trouble. Those things she grows in her garden work wonders, and she tells the future, some say. They can go to her and she can see what’s going to happen. She tells you what you should do and what will happen to you if you don’t.”

“And you believe this? Have you any proof?”

“Well, there’s some as say they have. But she’s an odd one. She does queer things. She walks about the place at night.”

“How do you know?”

Gertie was silent for a few seconds, and then said: “Well, I’ll tell you, miss. It’s that little Kitty.”

“The maid of hers?”

“Yes, miss. I’m sorry for her. Half scared out of her wits, she is. I’ve made a sort of friendship with her. She was carrying a load from the shops some little time back, and the handle of the bag broke and there was everything, all over the place. She just stood there, looking as if she was going to cry. I said to her, ‘Look here.

That’s not the end of the world, you know.’ I picked up the things for her and put them into the bag. Then I tied up the handle somehow, so she could carry it. You wouldn’t believe it, miss. You’d have thought I’d saved her life. She looked on me as though I was some sort of god. You can’t help liking that sort of thing. As for her … she’s like a little waif … never had a chance. That family of hers didn’t want her. Treated her shocking … and all because she was tuppence short. Then she went to old Mrs. Carling, and she’s like a slave to her. I took quite a fancy to poor little Kitty. I suppose it was because she thought I was so wonderful.”

I laughed. “I think you’re wise in a lot of ways, Gertie.”

“Well, thank you, miss. I had a word with Kitty. I told her she could always come to me and I’d give her a hand if there was any trouble. You should have seen her. Her face … it made me feel I was something.”

“Oh, Gertie, you are. You are indeed.”

“Oh, I’ve got my head screwed on all right, miss. I see her now and then. She always runs up to me. She tells me things. You know, they sort of come out. She thinks Miss Fiona is a saint with what she has to put up with. As for the old lady, she can act very strange sometimes, and Miss Fiona tries to keep it all looking as normal. It seems to me that Mrs. Carling does certain things to make her prophecies come true.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think it seems as though she gives things a little push, to make them go the way she wants.”

“I suppose, when you make prophecies, you should see that there is a good chance of their coming true.”

“Well, you might say that. It’s a pity Miss Fiona don’t come here to do her work. It would be better than that old cottage. Mrs. Carling was really put out about Miss Fiona not taking a room at the Manor when it was offered. She goes on and on about it till Miss Fiona nearly loses her patience. Still she goes on. ‘After all I’ve done for you,’ and that sort of thing. It really upsets Miss Fiona. Mrs. Carling says it’s asking for trouble when you don’t take the chance when it’s given you. No good will come of it. Of course, you can’t get much out of Kitty. I just piece it all together. Anyway, I don’t reckon Miss Fiona has much of a life with all that going on.”

Descent into Danger

There was a great deal of heavy rain during the next few days, and Roderick told us that the water was having an effect on some parts of the land. The fact that over the centuries it had been gradually reclaimed from the sea meant that it was soft and in places inclined to be soggy; and there were one or two places where there was a danger of subsidence.

“We’ve had this trouble before,” he said. “It follows this sort of weather. We have to keep a watchful eye on things.”

“What can you do?” I asked.

“The most important part is to keep people off it until we can bank it up or do something about it. All the digging which has been going on since the discoveries hasn’t helped, of course. When my father comes home we’ll have to talk about it. In the meantime we are putting up a few warning notices in what we feel may be vulnerable spots.”

We discussed it over dinner that evening.

“It can’t be long before your father is home,” said Lady Constance.

“No. He’ll soon be back now. There’s more damage been done to the cottage than we thought at first. I do think Miss Vance ought to come here for a while anyway. She would be so much more comfortable than with the workmen there.”

“It’s her choice,” said Lady Constance sharply. “You offered her a room, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And she wouldn’t take it. I should have thought that was an end to the matter.”

Roderick looked at his mother steadily. “I believe she won’t come because of you.”

“I? What have I to do with it?”

“You are the mistress of the house. If you show clearly that you don’t want her here, she can’t very well come, can she?”

Lady Constance caught my eye guiltily, and I felt sorry for her.

I said: “I understand Miss Vance prefers to work near the site.”

Roderick replied: “That is what she says, but I am sure, Mother, that if you invited her, she would come … if only temporarily—while the work is done.”

“Is that what you expect me to do?”

“I don’t expect it, but I should be pleased if you did.”

“I can’t see why. My wishes don’t enter into the matter.”

“But they do. Look. It is going to be very uncomfortable for Miss Vance while they are cleaning things up at the cottage. If you invited her to come here temporarily, I am sure she would agree to come.”

“But she has already refused.”

“Because she thought you did not want her. Moreover, she didn’t realize what an upheaval it was going to be. It will certainly disrupt her work.”

“Very well. I’ll have a word with her.”

“You will?” cried Roderick with obvious pleasure.

“As you feel I should and are blaming me for the woman’s being in such dire straits, I’ll have a word with her. I’ll go over to see her this afternoon.”

I was amazed, and so was Roderick. In fact, he was delighted. I was interested to see how Lady Constance basked in his approval. There was no doubt of her affection for her son. He and her husband were the two she cared about. I thought of the scrapbook and how she had kept cuttings about my mother, knowing of Charlie’s love for her, and I could guess how deeply she had suffered. Her resentment of me was completely understandable, and it was insensitive of Charlie to have brought me here. That was another reason why I should go as soon as possible. I understood Lady Constance’s coolness to Fiona. In fact, there was a good deal I was beginning to understand about Lady Constance. I was changing my attitude towards her. I could pity her: I could excuse her resentments because I knew the reason for them. She who had been so proud had been bitterly humbled: she who had determined to be strong, to rule her household and plan the best for her husband and son, was vulnerable.

The next day Roderick went off early. It continued to rain during the morning and cleared up after luncheon, which we took in our rooms. I was glad of that. I did not want to have to face Lady Constance alone.

I was wondering what she would say to Fiona and what Fiona’s response would be. Fiona could be forthright. The outcome would be interesting to me, because in a way Fiona’s case was not unlike my own.

It was my custom to call on Fiona in the afternoon. I very much wanted to hear the result of the interview and I must delay my visit until it was over.

I had seen Lady Constance set out after luncheon. She was walking the short distance from the house to the site. She looked brisk as she set out, as though she were going into battle. She carried a black umbrella. It was not raining at the time, but there could well be another shower or two.

I guessed the meeting would be brief.

I should hear all about it from Fiona. An hour passed while I sat at my window, waiting for the return of Lady Constance. I was surprised that she was so long. The walk would be about fifteen minutes there and fifteen back. An hour had passed. What could they be talking about for the rest of the time?

Could I have missed her return? That was hardly likely. It might be that she had gone on somewhere else. That was not likely, but I supposed just possible.

It was half an hour later when I decided I would call on Fiona. Lady Constance must have left by now and if by some chance she had not done so, I should have to make some excuse and come away.

I put on my outdoor clothes with stout walking shoes and took an umbrella with me.

It was a somewhat bleak day and the countryside looked a little desolate. Everything was damp and there was rain in the air, although it was not actually falling. There was scarcely any wind and dark clouds loured low in the sky.

When I came near the site, it started to rain. I put up my umbrella and took the path which led up to the cottage.

It looked different. There were pieces of loose earth spattered about. They must have been disturbed by the heavy rains, I thought.

I glanced over at the baths and the mosaic floor. They looked just as usual. Then … too late … I saw the yawning gap before me. I tried to stop sharply, but as I did so, the ground beneath me gave way. I tripped forward, my umbrella flew away and I was falling … down into darkness.

I was stunned and bewildered for a few seconds before I realized what was happening. This was one of the spots Roderick had talked about. The soil was giving way beneath my feet. It was in my eyes. I shut them tightly for a few seconds. I tried to clutch at something, but the damp earth came away in my hands.

My fall was not rapid. It was impeded by the obstructing soil which gave way under my weight. And then … suddenly I was falling no longer. I opened my eyes. I could not see much, but the hole through which I had fallen was still there and it let in a little light.

I was standing on something hard. I felt a mild relief because I was no longer falling.

I was able to put my hand down and touch what I was standing on. It was smooth and felt like stone. Fragments of soil were still falling round me and onto the shelf on which I was standing. I listened to the sound of their fall. It was now intermittent and I saw that the hole through which I had fallen remained, so there was still a little light from above coming in.

I felt a great relief. At least I was not entirely buried. Someone must come. But who? They would discover that the land had subsided. But how long could I stay here?

I perceived that it would be impossible to try to climb up. There was nothing but damp loose earth to cling to. Then I began to feel very frightened.

I heard something. A cry. “Help … help me …”

“Hello,” I said. “Hello.”

“Here … here …”

I recognized Lady Constance’s voice.

A thought flashed into my mind. It had happened to her. She had been going to call on Fiona, just as I had been. She would have taken the same path.

“Lady Constance,” I gasped.

“Noelle. Where … are you here?”

“I fell …”

“As I did. Can you move?”

“I … I’m afraid to. It might …”

I had no need to explain. She was in the same position as I was. At the moment we were safe … but how did we know whether the slightest movement might set the earth falling down on us, burying us alive?

My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness. I appeared to be on some sort of stone floor. There was earth scattered all over it. I could see something dark … a shape moving slightly. It was Lady Constance.

“Can you move very slowly … this way?” I said. “We seem to be in some sort of cave. It’s lighter where I am. The hole is still above. I’m afraid to move because the earth round me is very loose. But there seems to be a sort of ceiling.”

She started to crawl slowly towards me. There was a sound of falling earth. I held my breath. I was desperately afraid that the soil would fall in and bury us.

I said: “Wait … wait.”

She obeyed and all was quiet. I said: “Try again.”

She was close now. I could see her vaguely.

She put out a hand and touched my arm. I grasped her hand.

I could sense that her relief matched mine.

“What … what can we do?” she whispered.

“Perhaps they’ll come and rescue us,” I said.

She did not speak. “Are you all right?” I asked.

“My foot hurts. I’m glad you’re here. I shouldn’t be. But … it makes two of us.”

“I understand,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

We were silent for a while, then she said: “This is the end of us perhaps.”

“I don’t know.”

“What can happen, then?”

“We’ll be missed. When Roderick comes back. Someone will come to look for us. We must keep very still. We must not disturb anything. When they miss us they’ll come to rescue us.”

“You’re trying to comfort me.”

“And myself.”

She laughed, and I laughed with her. It was quite mirthless laughter, a defence, perhaps, against fate.

“Strange,” she said, “that you and I should be here.”

“Very strange.”

“It’s good to talk, isn’t it? I feel so much better now. I thought I was going to die alone. I was very frightened.”

“It’s always good to share something, I suppose … even this.”

“It’s a help. Do you really think we shall get out of this?”

“I don’t know. I think we may have a chance. Someone might come along.”

“They might fall down with us.”

“They might see what has happened in time. They’d get help.”

“Should we call out?”

“Would they hear us?”

“If we heard them, they might hear us. There’s a gap there. You can see the daylight.”

“While that’s there, there is hope.”

“You’re a sensible girl,” she said. “I’m afraid I haven’t been very good to you.”

“Oh … that’s all right. I understand.”

“You mean about Charlie and your mother?”

“Yes.”

We were silent for a few moments. She was still holding my hand. I think she was afraid something would happen to separate us. I, too, felt comforted by her closeness.

She said: “Let’s talk. I feel better talking. I know what happened about the bust.”

“The bust?”

“On the stairs. I know Gertie broke it and you took the blame.”

“How?”

“I was watching from the top landing. I saw the whole thing. Why did you do it?”

“Gertie was terrified of being sent away. She sends money home to her family. She was afraid you would dismiss her and wouldn’t give her a reference. It seemed the simplest thing to do.”

“I see. That was good of you.”

“It was nothing much. I was going away soon. It seemed better to let you think it was my fault.”

“How did you know all this about Gertie?”

“We talk. She tells me about her family.”

“You talk thus … to the servants?”

“I suppose that shocks you. I was brought up in a different way … where differences in class were not nearly so important as human relationships. People were people in our household, not servants and employers.”

“That was Desiree, was it?”

“Yes. She was like that. She was friendly with everyone.”

“And you take after her.”

“No. I’m afraid there was only one Desiree.”

Silence again. I thought it was a pity the subject of my mother should be brought up at a time like this.

But she was still holding my hand.

It was not good to be silent. It made us frighteningly conscious of our desperate plight.

“I had no idea that you knew about the bust,” I said.

“I was watchful.”

“Of me?”

“Yes, of you.”

“I was aware of it.”

“Were you? You gave no sign. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you fell down where I did. I’m a very selfish woman.”

“No … no. I understand. I am glad you are here.”

She laughed and moved closer to me.

“Strange, is it not? We must keep talking, mustn’t we? When we talk, fear seems to recede … but it’s there. I think we may be going to die.”

“I think there is a good possibility of rescue.”

“You say that to comfort me.”

“As I told you, I also say it to comfort myself.”

“Are you afraid of dying?”

“I had never thought of it till now. One seems to be born with the idea that one will go on forever. One can’t imagine a world without oneself.”

“That’s called egoism, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“So you have never had to be afraid until this happened?”

“That is so. I’m afraid now. I know that at any moment the earth can fall in and bury us.”

“We shall be buried together. Does that comfort you?”

“Yes, it does.”

“It comforts me, too. It is strange that I should draw comfort from you when I think how I resented your coming to Leverson.”

“I am sorry. I should never have come.”

“I’m glad you did now.”

I laughed. “Because if I had not, I could not have joined you here.”

“Yes … just that.” She laughed with me. Then she said: “Well, there is something more. We are in this strange position and down here we are getting to know each other more than we ever would in an atmosphere of security.”

“It is because we are facing possible death. That must draw people close.”

“Let’s go on talking,” she said.

“I am listening, too,” I said. “If we hear anything from above, we must be ready to call … to let them know we are here.”

“Yes. Could we hear them?”

“I don’t know. I think we might.”

“But let’s go on talking … softly. I can’t bear the silence.”

“Are you comfortable?”

“My foot hurts.”

“I expect you have strained something.”

“Yes. It’s a small thing when one may be facing death.”

“Don’t think of that.”

“I’ll try not to. You found my book of cuttings. You looked at them with Gertie.”

“I’m sorry. She called me in and when I saw … it was irresistible.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I thought it was very sad.”

“Why?”

“Because it told me how you must have felt through all those years.”

“I knew everything she was playing in … what they said about her. I understood it all. He was besotted about her.”

“Other people were, too.”

“She must have been a wonderful person.”

“To me she was the most wonderful person in the world.”

“A good mother, was she?”

“The best.”

“That seems unlikely. A woman like that! What would she know about bringing up children?”

“She knew about love.”

Silence again. I realized she was weeping quietly.

“Tell me more about her.”

So I told her. I told her how Dolly came with his plans and how they quarrelled and abused each other. I told her about all the dramas, the last-minute changes, the first-night nerves.

It was like a dream … sitting in a dark hole with Lady Constance, talking of my mother. But it helped me as it did her, and at that time we were overwhelmed with gratitude for the other simply for being there.

I thought: If we ever get out of here, we shall be friends. We can’t go back to our old relationship after this. Each of us has shown the other too much of our inner selves.

How strange it was that, in that nightmare situation from which we both feared we might never emerge alive, Lady Constance and I had become good friends.

I could just see from my watch that two hours had passed. We listened for some sound from above and heard nothing. I feared the coming of the night, for that would mean there was no hope of rescue till morning.

Roderick would return to the house. He would quickly learn that we were missing … both his mother and I. Where would he go to look for us? Could he possibly be led to this spot?

“How long have we been here?” asked Lady Constance.

“It is more than two hours since we found each other.”

“I was here before that. It seemed very long. That was the worst part.”

“It must have been more than an hour. I saw you leave the house. I knew where you were going, as you had said. It must have been shortly after you left when you fell.”

“To be down here … alone. That was terrible.”

“How lucky we were to land on this stone. I don’t know what it is. It seems like a sort of ledge. It’s very solid … and there’s the gap above it. That has saved us, I think. I wonder what it can be.”

“I should not like to have sat on soft earth. One would not feel safe.”

“That’s what I mean. We have been very lucky to strike this.”

“Let us hope our luck continues.”

She had to talk. She could not bear the silence. She told me about her early days in the grandeur of her ancestral home, where there was always a shortage of money. Charlie, of course, was very rich. Not quite on their level socially, but the family accepted that. He was so very helpful, and therefore a marriage was agreed on.

“But, you see, I loved Charlie,” she went on. “He was the kindest man I had ever known. He was so different from the others. I married Charlie because my family wished it, but I fell in love with him. More than anything, I wanted him to love me. He did … to a certain extent … but then, of course, there was Desiree.”

“I am sure she would have been upset if she had known she caused you suffering. She never wanted to hurt anybody. Life was a lighthearted affair to her. She had her men friends. It was very jolly. Do you understand?”

“It is not easy to. Charlie was my husband … and she had no husband.”

“My father died a long time ago. I never knew him.”

“I see. And after that she thought other people’s husbands were hers for the taking.”

“She never thought of it that way. She did not exactly take anyone. They came to her. They were all friends together. Life was to be enjoyed. That was her philosophy. She wanted to enjoy it, and everyone around her to do the same.”

“Never mind the heartbreak she caused.”

“She did not know of it. She would have sent Charlie back to you and told him to be a good husband if she had known.”

“But life is not like that. She must have been very beautiful.”

“She was, but she had more than beauty. Does it hurt you … to talk about all this?”

“I want to know. I can see her now more clearly than I ever did. I used to think of her as a wicked siren.”

“A siren … but never wicked. She would never have willingly hurt you. Sometimes I think that she let herself believe that everyone looked on life as she did. Listen …”

We were silent, straining our ears.

There was nothing.

“I thought I heard a voice,” I said, and we fell silent, still listening.

“Ah … there it is again.”

“Hello … hello!”

“Let’s shout,” I cried. “Hello! Hello! Down here.”

Lady Constance shouted with me. There was silence while we waited breathlessly.

“Someone’s there,” I whispered. “They must be looking for us.”

We turned and embraced each other in our relief. I think we were both near tears.

We sat holding each other … tense … listening. There was no sound. The disappointment was intense.

“Let’s call again,” I said, and shouted: “We’re here. We’re down here.”

Then I heard a voice. It was Roderick’s.

“Can you hear me? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, yes.”

“Don’t move. Wait. We’re coming.”

There was a dark shadow above.

Someone was up there.

“Noelle … Mother …”

“We’re here,” I cried. “We’re here … together.”

“Thank God. Don’t move, whatever you do. This can be dangerous.”

There was a pause which seemed to go on for a long time but could not have been more than five minutes. Then Roderick was there again. There must have been others with him, for I heard several voices.

He shouted down: “We’re lowering ropes. Attach yourselves to them. Tie them round your waists. We’re going to pull you up.”

We kept our eyes on the opening and we saw the ropes descending. I seized them. First I helped Lady Constance to tie one round her waist. Then I did the same for myself.

“Are you ready?” called Roderick.

“You must go first,” I said to Lady Constance.

“Suppose more earth falls down.”

“I’m tied to the rope. I’ll be all right.”

“Noelle, Noelle.” It was Roderick.

“I’m here,” I answered.

“We are going to start now. We are going to bring you up together. Hold on to each other and make sure the ropes are securely tied. Ready? Now …”

Arms about each other, Lady Constance and I were lifted. We moved upwards, dislodging earth as we went. I heard stones rattling on the shelf which we had just vacated. Nearer and nearer to the top … and then the fresh air was enveloping us, and we were standing on terra firma. The air seemed intoxicating. And most wonderful of all, there was Roderick. He had his arms round both of us.

“You’ve given us a fright,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Then they were untying the ropes. Lady Constance could not stand up and she was taken to the carriage which was waiting for us. Earth fell from my clothes and I staggered and would have fallen if Roderick had not caught me. He was holding me tightly.

“It is wonderful … wonderful … to have you safe,” he said. “Oh, Noelle … when you weren’t there …”

I said: “I felt you would come. All the time, I felt it. It just kept me from despair.”

He held me firmly for some seconds and I was happier in that moment than I had been since my mother died.

“I love you, Noelle,” he said. “You’re never going away from me again.”

“I never want to.”

We stood close for a few seconds.

He said: “We’ll talk. First we’ve got to get you both back … make sure you’ve suffered no harm. Dearest Noelle, I thank God I found you.”

I was in the carriage. Lady Constance was lying back, her eyes closed. She was almost unrecognizable; her face and clothes were streaked with dirt and her hair was straying from its usual austere order. I suddenly realized how I must have looked when Roderick was saying he loved me.

Lady Constance opened her eyes and smiled at me. All the warmth and friendship I had felt when we were in danger was still there.

This was the most bewildering experience. I had been plunged into disaster, to find that there could be a happy life for me.

I felt I was living in a dream from which I should awake at any moment.

The rest of that night seems rather hazy. I was more shocked than I had first realized. I was taken to my room, where the first thing I wanted to do was throw off all my clothes and get into a bath. This I was allowed to do before the doctor arrived.

I was amazed at the quantities of soil which fell from me. It was in the pockets of my coat, in my shoes … everywhere.

I soaked myself in the hip bath, and my soiled clothes were taken away.

I was in bed when the doctor visited me and proclaimed that no bones were broken, though I had plenty of bruises, and, as I had had a terrible shock, I must have hot food and then take a sedative he would leave for me. Then I must see whether I was well enough to get up next morning.

I was content to do this. I did not want to think of that experience, because I could not do so without recalling those terrifying moments when I had fallen and thought the earth was going to bury me alive. I wanted to be alone to think of Roderick with his arms about me, showing me so clearly how happy he was because I was safe. I wanted to think of his saying he loved me. I also wanted to remember what Lady Constance and I had said together in those moments of revelation. That was enough for this night.

As for Lady Constance, she was suffering from a sprained ankle and acute shock, and would stay in bed until the doctor saw her again.

I slept deeply and awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. I was longing to see both Roderick and Lady Constance.

I stretched out in my bed, savouring the comforts of sheets and soft pillows.

I looked round the room and out of the window. Everything seemed so beautiful and precious as I remembered how I had thought I might never see any of it again.

How lucky we had been to be discovered so soon … for it was comparatively soon. We might still be there. I shuddered at the thought.

I wondered whether I should get up, what it would be like to see Roderick again. It would be different between us after his declaration. I had thought he might have been on the point of telling me he loved me on one or two occasions, but he had not done so, and that had set doubts in my mind. Yesterday it was such an emotional moment that the words had slipped out.

I was glad. I felt joyous, full of hope for a future which had previously been filled with misgivings. It had been worthwhile to have been nearly buried alive to hear those words.

The door of my room was slowly opening. Gertie came in. She was looking excited and expectant.

“I just looked in to see whether you was awake, miss,” she said. “And if you’d like something. I thought I wouldn’t knock, which might wake you if you wasn’t already awake like.”

“Thank you, Gertie. I am awake.”

She came towards the bed, her eyes wide, looking at me as though I were a different person from the one I had been before.

“I’m ever so thankful you’re safe, miss.”

“Thank you, Gertie.”

“And it was because of me, in a way. It was an awful thing, and to think, if I hadn’t been able to … well, miss … I can’t tell you how pleased I was to be the one … after all you did for me. I was able to do something for you.”

“What do you mean, Gertie?”

“Well, it was her, wasn’t it? … Kitty. Her coming here like that … to me. All upset she was. She knew, you see. She’s here now … won’t go back. Mr. Roderick said she was to be given a room. Reckon there might be a job for her here. And her ladyship wouldn’t say no to that, seeing it was her who saved her, too.”

“I don’t understand what all this is about, Gertie.”

“Well, it was her that come here. She was in a terrible state. She didn’t know what to do, so she came to me. I told you how we got on, after I’d helped her with the bag and she looked on me like I was something special. So when she was frightened she came to me. She told me old Mrs. Carling had taken away the notice.”

“What notice?”

“Warning people not to use the path.”

“There was a notice?”

“Not when you was there, because she’d taken it away, hadn’t she? Real mischief. Kitty reckons it was so’s you’d fall in. Mrs. Carling knew you went almost every afternoon to see Miss Vance, and she guessed you’d be along. And there you was … just as she’d planned it.”

“Gertie. I can’t believe this. Mrs. Carling took the notice away in the hope that I would be trapped!”

Gertie nodded and looked wise. “She’s been off her head these last weeks. They’ve had a terrible time with her. She set fire to the cottage because she wanted Miss Vance to come up and work at the Manor.”

“Set fire to the cottage!”

Gertie looked knowledgeable. “She wanted Mr. Roderick for Fiona. She goes about muttering to herself. Kitty heard. So she wanted her up at the house, and you out of the way. I reckon that’s the long and the short of it.”

“It cannot be true.”

“Well, why did she take the notice away? Kitty saw her go out on the night of the fire and she knows she took paraffin with her. Then she actually saw her take the notice away. She went out and waited there. She saw you go down. She didn’t see Lady Constance, but she saw you. She didn’t know what she ought to do. After a time she came to me. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I soon spread the news. They got Mr. Roderick right away, and he called the men all together with ropes and things. So they got you out. But Kitty was afraid to go back after what she’d done. That’s why she’s here. I’ve got her in my room. I have to keep telling her it’s all right and she’s done a good thing in telling on her old mistress. I tell her she’s not got to worry about going back to Mrs. Carling anymore. I’m going to look after her.”

“Oh, Gertie …”

She rushed to me and flung her arms round my neck. We hugged each other for a few moments.

“I’m that glad you’re safe, miss, I’m forgetting my place. You’re safe and sound and I had a part in bringing you back. Now, can I get you something to eat? Some coffee … some toast?”

“Just that, Gertie, and some hot water. I’m longing to get up.”

“I’ll see to it,” she said.

I lay back in bed, marvelling at what I had heard and wondering if it could possibly be true.

I hastily washed and dressed and ate a little breakfast. I must admit I felt light-headed, but that was due to everything which had happened in such a short time rather than any physical disability.

My mind was a jumble of memories: those horrifying moments when I had fallen, my conversation with Lady Constance, the rescue, all that Gertie had told me—and all dominated by Roderick’s telling me he loved me.

More than anything I wanted to see Roderick.

When I was ready to go down, I went to the window, and there he was, seated on the wicker seat, looking up at my window. He saw me immediately.

“I’m coming down now,” I called.

I ran out of the room and down the stairs. He was striding towards me, taking my hands in his.

“Noelle … how are you this morning? It’s wonderful to see you! I have been sitting here … waiting … since Gertie told me you were going to get up.”

“I wanted so much to talk to you.”

“And I to you. Did you sleep well?”

“I knew nothing since I took the doctor’s sedative and woke to find the sun streaming into my room.”

“I’ve had nightmares … dreaming that we couldn’t get you out.”

“Well, forget them, because here I am.”

“And you are always going to be here, Noelle. Let’s sit down and talk. I love you, Noelle … so much. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time. I was afraid it was too soon … your mother was so recently dead, and I knew you were still living with your grief. I was afraid you could not think of anything else. I told myself I must wait until you had recovered a little. But yesterday it came out. I couldn’t stop it.”

“I’m glad.”

“Does that mean you love me, too?”

I nodded and he put his arm round and tightened his hold on me.

“We shan’t want a long engagement,” he said. “My father will be pleased. He’ll see it as a way of keeping you here.”

“I’m so suddenly happy,” I said. “I never thought to feel like this again. It all looked so grim. I hated being in London. There were so many memories of her … and I was away from you. Then you came and it was bearable. I was wondering what I should do … and now there is a chance to be happy again.”

“We certainly shall be.”

“What of your mother? Have you heard how she is this morning?”

“Still sleeping. She is very shocked. She will need a long rest.”

“She has other plans for you.”

He laughed. “Oh,” he said. “Marriage. She will come round when she sees it’s inevitable. Don’t think of obstacles. There are not going to be any … and if there are, we shall quickly overcome them.”

“I’m thinking about it all the time.”

He kissed my hair gently. I thought: How can I be so suddenly happy? Yesterday was so different. Today I am in another world … and all because yesterday I nearly lost my life. The birds were singing more gaily; the grass glistened with tiny globules of morning dew; the flowers were more colourful and fragrant because of the recent heavy rain: the whole world had become more beautiful because I was happy.

For a few moments we were silent. I believe he, as I, was savouring the beauties of nature around us while we thought of the future which would be ours.

I said at length: “Gertie told me a strange story this morning.”

“Yes,” he said. “About Kitty the maid and Mrs. Carling.”

“Is it true, then?”

“That she took the sign away? It seems so. Tom Merritt had put it up during the morning with four or five others in those places he considered to be dangerous. It was warning people not to use those parts until someone could get to work to test their safety.”

“Gertie said that Kitty saw her take it away and didn’t know what she ought to do about it.”

“Yes, that’s so. It had certainly been removed. Kitty saw her do it. These people watch what goes on and Mrs. Carling knew … and so did Kitty … that you often went to the cottage in the afternoons. So Kitty waited and saw you fall. She didn’t know what she ought to do, but she eventually told Gertie. Thank God she did. We should have found you eventually, but she helped us get there more quickly.”

“Do you think Mrs. Carling really did take the sign away?”

“She is mad, you know. We have suspected that for some time. Fiona was very worried about her strange behaviour … which was getting worse. She has always been fanciful … eccentric … but this was different. Fiona has had a terrible time looking after her. Mrs. Carling has been taken to a hospital for the mentally unstable. She was caught trying to set fire to the cottage again. Thank God that maid of hers finally had the good sense to come to Gertie. That helped us get you out without the delay there might have been. I can’t stop thinking of what might have happened. You could so easily …”

I said: “We were fortunate to have landed on a kind of ledge.”

“A ledge?”

“It seemed like stone of some sort. Otherwise we could have gone right down. The earth was so damp and soggy. I am glad I was near your mother. I want to see her as soon as I’m allowed to. Do you think I shall be able to?”

“But of course. We’ll go together and tell her …”

“Oh … no. She shouldn’t have another shock so soon. Roderick, will you leave it to me … just for a while? I think it may be possible that I could explain it to her.”

“Don’t you think it would be better to come from me?”

“I should have thought so … but after yesterday … well, we were together down there all that time … not knowing whether we should ever come up. That sort of thing does something to you. I think it may have done to your mother …”

“If you think it is best.”

“Perhaps I’m wrong. It is different here in the house from what it is in a damp dark hole which can collapse on you at any moment.”

“It will be all right. When she sees how pleased my father will be …”

I was unsure, but I could not let anything cloud my happiness at that moment. I wanted to savour every minute. Nothing must stand in the way of my happiness.

The doctor called later that morning. He saw me in my room and told me that he thought I had recovered from my shock. The bruises would in time disappear and I had clearly not broken any bones, which was a mercy. We had been lucky to have been rescued comparatively quickly. He thought I should not allow myself to become exhausted and that I should remember I had been through a very trying experience. Apart from that, I might carry on as normal.

He was a little longer with Lady Constance. She, too, had emerged from the accident with a good deal of luck. She must undoubtedly rest on account of her ankle alone, and she must keep to her room for a while. He hoped that shortly she would be none the worse for what she had endured.

When I asked if I might be allowed to see her, he said: “Certainly. A little chat will do her good. She doesn’t want to be made to feel she’s an invalid. Just remember that a shock like that can have an effect which may not be immediately apparent.”

So I went to see Lady Constance.

She was sitting up in bed, looking very different from when I had last seen her. Her hair was neatly drawn away from her face to make a coil on the top of her head, and she was dressed in a negligee of pale blue. As I entered the room, I had the feeling that she had left my companion of misfortune far behind and had reverted to the familiar and formidable mistress of the household who had intimidated Gertie and—I had to admit—myself.

I approached the bed. I knew she was trying to make a barrier between us, struggling to return to that haughty arrogance which had been her shield.

“How are you, Noelle?” she said coolly.

“I am well enough, thank you. And you, Lady Constance?”

“Rather shaken still, and my ankle is painful. Otherwise, apart from feeling tired, I am all right.”

Her eyes held mine for a moment. I guessed she was remembering and regretting those confidences. Was she debating whether they could be set aside, forgotten? No. That could hardly be. Could they be put down to the somewhat hysterical ramblings of someone who was face to face with possible death? She was a proud woman and, now that she had returned to the safety of everyday life, she would be remembering, and resenting afresh, the indignities and humiliation she had suffered through her husband’s infatuation for another woman.

“It was a terrible ordeal we suffered,” she began, paused, and then added: “Together.”

“It was a comfort to have someone to share it with,” I said.

“A comfort indeed.”

I saw the tears on her cheeks then, and I knew that the battle with herself was nearly over. Boldly I went closer to the bed and I took both her hands.

“It was indeed a terrible ordeal,” I repeated, “and yet I cannot be entirely sorry that it happened.”

She was silent.

I went on: “To talk together … to understand …”

“I know,” she said with emotion. “I know …”

I realized then that it was for me to take the initiative. Her pride was holding her back.

“I hope,” I said, “that, now we have found friendship, we are not going to lose it.”

She gripped my hand and replied quietly: “I hope that, too.”

The barriers were down. It was as though we were back together in that dark and dismal hole.

She took a handkerchief from under her pillow and wiped her eyes. “I am being foolish,” she said.

“Oh no … no.”

“Yes, my dear Noelle. We shall always remember what we went through together, but, as you say, there is some good in everything. And it has made us friends.”

“I was afraid it was just for then. I was afraid it would not last.”

“It became too firm for that … even in that short time. But it was not exactly so sudden. I have always admired you … just as I did … her.”

“We shall start from now,” I said. “The rest is in the past. It is the present which is important. I feel happier and hopeful now.”

She did not ask for explanations, and I think because she was afraid of showing more emotion, she said: “You have heard that that madwoman removed the warning sign.”

“Yes.”

“They have put her away. It was she who set fire to the cottage. What a danger she was!”

“Yes,” I replied. “It was fortunate that Kitty, the maid, saw what she had done.”

“The poor child is a little retarded.”

“But sufficiently aware to tell Gertie what she had seen.”

“She can’t go back, of course. We shall keep her here. I wonder what Fiona Vance will do now.”

“It will be a relief to her, I expect, to know that her grandmother is being cared for. I fancy she was something of a trial to her and must have been for some time. She never mentioned it or complained.”

“I daresay something will be arranged.”

We were silent for a few seconds, then Lady Constance said: “My husband will be home soon, I daresay.”

I made a hasty decision.

“Lady Constance,” I said, “there is something I want to say to you. I don’t know how you will take this. If I don’t tell you now, Roderick will soon. But if it is going to upset you …”

“I think I know what it is,” she said. “Roderick wants to marry you. That is it, is it not?”

I nodded.

“And,” she went on, “you want to marry him. I have seen it coming.”

“And you, Lady Constance?”

She lifted her shoulders, and I went on: “I know you expected your son to marry someone very different from me. I know you wanted the highest in the land for him …”

She did not reply for some moments. When she spoke, it was almost as though she were talking to herself.

“I am not a very happy woman. For years I have brooded. All those years my husband was with her. She was everything that I was not, the sort of person a man can be at peace with … happy with … the sort who doesn’t make demands. I realize now that was something I was doing constantly … trying to make people what they were not … to fit in with what I wanted them to be. I sought the wrong things in life. When we were in that dark hole, I saw things which I had never seen before. It was as though a light had been thrown on the past, and I began to ask myself how much of what had happened had been due to myself. If I had been different … loving … lighthearted … not setting such store by material things … perhaps it would have been different. I saw clearly your care for Gertie … your love for your mother. I began to see that I had made misjudgements, set too much store on the less important aspects of life. I saw how foolish I had been to dislike you because you were your mother’s daughter … because you had not such a grand pedigree as I have. Noelle, I shall be grateful to you always. I shall be happy to continue our friendship through our lives, and I hope you will never go away from this house.”

I could not stop myself. I put my arms round her and, for a few moments, we clung together.

I said: “I am so happy. I have never felt such happiness since I lost my mother.”

Shock

Roderick and I were in a state of bliss. It was so wonderful to bask in the approval of Lady Constance. In spite of her exhaustion—which was great—she looked younger and took a great interest in our plans. I had never seen her so animated before. The change had been so sudden and there were times when I expected her to revert to the old Lady Constance, when I would see a trace of that icy aloof manner towards the servants, but even with them her manner had softened.

I was sure they were aware of it.

She was always warm and friendly towards me. Sometimes it was hard to believe that the change would last, but I was beginning to accept it and I was sure she herself only had to look back to that time we had spent together, so highly charged with emotion … to realize how happy she could be in her newfound understanding of others … and herself.

I went over to see Fiona, taking a different route because the path was now fenced off and men were working on it.

Fiona greeted me warmly.

“My dear Noelle, what a dreadful thing! I am so relieved and delighted that you are all right. I blame myself in a way. I knew she was getting more and more strange. I didn’t want people to know. I thought I could manage her.”

“You must not talk like that. Of course you did your best. I had no idea that she was so ill.”

“She was the victim of obsessions. I should have been more alert. It did not occur to me that it was she who had set fire to the cottage, though I had had hints …”

“Whatever made her do it?”

“Let’s have a cup of coffee. Then we can talk.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

She went into the little kitchen.

“How are you getting on with the repairs upstairs?” I called.

“It’s coming back to normal. It is good to see you here. Thank goodness Kitty saw what she did.”

“Gertie’s a kind girl. It was so good of her to befriend Kitty in the first place.”

“I am glad Kitty is up at Leverson. It’s better for her there. You see, she had some notion that my grandmother had saved her. After all, she did take her in when the poor girl must have been rather desperate. Kitty felt she had to serve her without question. It will be healthier for her up at the Manor.”

“And Gertie will keep an eye on her.”

She came in with the coffee.

“Now,” she said, “we can talk. Yes, my grandmother wanted me to marry Roderick. That was at the root of the trouble.”

“Oh,” I said.

She smiled. “I heard,” she went on, “about you two. Congratulations! I saw it coming, of course, but the marvellous thing is that Lady Constance is pleased about it.”

“How news travels!”

“I was saying my grandmother had obsessions and this was one of them. She thought if she made the cottage uninhabitable, I should have to go to work in a room in the Manor, which would bring me into closer contact with Roderick. Hence the fire. Then she saw an obstacle in you. She quite rightly saw how things were between you and Roderick.”

“How did she know that?”

Fiona looked at me with an indulgent smile. “It was rather obvious, you know.”

“She saw us so rarely together.”

“Once was enough. And she wanted to remove you from the scene.”

“She did warn me that danger was threatening me here.”

“Yes, she wanted you to go away.”

“I see now.”

“And then, when you wouldn’t, she looked for opportunities.”

“She was taking a chance. Someone else could have fallen into the trap … and Lady Constance did before me.”

“She was not really thinking as normal people think. She was ready to take the chance to remove you … and, you see … from her point of view … it worked.”

“Her mind must be very distorted.”

“Poor Granny. She became very strange once before. That was after the death of my mother. She had a stay in hospital then … but she recovered and I went to her, and caring for me seemed to help her. Of course, she always believed in her special powers and such things, but that did not intrude too much on normal life at that time. She gave me the utmost care. It was when I was growing up and became interested in archaeology that it started up again. She was obsessed by my future. She wanted a grand marriage for me and Roderick was the one she chose. She had discovered that I was corresponding with a student whom I met when I was with Sir Harry Harcourt. He’s studying archaeology. We got to know each other and have kept in touch. It’s a … very firm friendship.”

“I’m glad.”

She flushed slightly. “So you see, my grandmother’s dreams are all her own.”

“Poor lady. Does she know what has happened?”

“I don’t think so. When I last saw her, she was talking about my mother as though she had recently died. So I could see she was back all those years.”

“I hope she will be all right.”

“I think she will be in that hospital for some time.”

“And you are managing all right without Kitty?”

“Oh yes. Mrs. Heather comes in and cleans up the house. She cooks me a meal every evening, as she says so that I can have something good inside me at least once a day. So, you see, I am managing very well. In fact, it is a relief to know my grandmother is having the best possible care.”

“It was a terrible experience,” I said, “both for me and for Lady Constance. But in some ways it seems to have straightened out a lot of difficulties.”

There was a knock on the door. Fiona opened it and one of the workmen stood there.

“There’s something down there, miss,” he said. “You know … where the path gave in. It’s stone or something.”

I said excitedly: “It must be the ledge on which we landed.”

“We dug down a bit, miss,” went on the man. “Looks like some sort of Roman stuff.”

That was the beginning. Excavations had been going on for some days and there was great jubilation when it was discovered that the stone ledge onto which Lady Constance and I had fallen was part of the floor of what could be a temple.

The existence of this could possibly have been the reason why our fall had not been deep and had made our rescue easier than it might have been. In fact, it may well have saved our lives.

Fiona and Roderick were in a state of great excitement. I shared this to some extent. It added a new zest to the days, and I would go down to the site with Roderick to watch. Several people from the archaeological world had come down to inspect the find and now some work was being done on it. The assumption was that the temple was an extension of the villa, and this might give rise to further interesting revelations. Each day something new came to light. Part of a statue had been found before what was an altar. And there were traces of a trident, and part of what could be a dolphin. The new discovery was known as the temple of Neptune.

In the midst of all this excitement, Charlie returned.

He was delighted to hear about the discovery, and I was looking forward to telling him the news about Roderick and myself.

That night remains clear in my memory.

We were at dinner, and the main topic of conversation was the temple of Neptune.

“Which,” said Roderick, “means that our site here could prove to be one of the most interesting in the country.”

“That might well be,” said Charlie. “How did they come to find out what was down there?”

“Of course, you haven’t heard,” said Lady Constance. “There was an accident.”

Charlie looked from one to the other of us in concern.

“An accident,” he repeated.

“It’s all over now,” said Lady Constance. “And all this has come out of it. If we hadn’t fallen, Neptune and his temple might never have seen the light of modern day.”

We gave Charlie a brief account of what had happened. He was dismayed.

“What a lot has happened since I have been away,” he said. “Thank God you are all right.”

“The temple was helpful,” I explained. “You see, we fell into it, which probably saved us from being buried in all that loose earth.”

“There is something else,” said Roderick. He was looking at me and smiling.

“Well?” said Charlie.

“Noelle and I have decided … well, we are going to be married.”

I was watching Charlie closely. I saw his face frozen for a moment, and then it seemed as though an expression of dismay crossed his face. I was amazed. I had expected him to be delighted.

I immediately thought: He is worried about Lady Constance. I wanted to tell him that he had no need to be.

He smiled, but I fancied it was a forced smile.

“Oh,” he said. “I see.”

Lady Constance put in: “We don’t want there to be any delay.”

“You … seem pleased,” said Charlie.

“I am,” replied Lady Constance firmly. “Very.”

“I … I see,” said Charlie.

He was smiling. Of course he was pleased. After all, why should he not be?

It was about ten o’clock next morning. I was preparing to go out with Roderick, and we were to make our first call at the temple.

Gertie came to me. She said: “Mr. Claverham wants you to go to his study, miss.”

“Now?”

“Yes, miss. He said now.”

I went down immediately. I was surprised to see that Roderick was there.

Charlie said: “Come in, Noelle. Shut the door. I have something to say to you both. I am afraid this will come as a terrible shock to the two of you. I blame myself. I should have seen the possibility. I have been pondering all night as to what is the best thing to do, and I have come to the conclusion that the only thing is to tell you the truth. You have to know. There can be no marriage between you two. You, Noelle, are my daughter. Roderick is your brother.”