The Adulteress

The Conspiracy

I SENT JETHRO’S GRANDSON back with messages for Jethro and Uncle Carl. I should be coming to see him and setting out before the end of the week.

Jean-Louis wanted to come with me but that would not be easy. Tim Parker was understandably not yet so conversant with the management of the estate that he could be left alone; also we both knew that Jean-Louis would find the journey exhausting and that this would be an anxiety for me.

What of Sabrina or my mother? wondered Jean-Louis. But since Hetty’s affair my relationship with them had undergone a change. They couldn’t quite forget my animosity towards Dickon and took it as a sort of affront to themselves. Perhaps the real reason was that I was afraid of what Jessie or Evalina would hint. In any case I knew that I had to go and I wanted to go alone.

So after some argument with Jean-Louis, who was fearful of my traveling alone, it was agreed that I should take six grooms with me, as I had on the first occasion, with an extra one to look after the saddle horse.

It was spring again. The days were long and we made good progress and it was an early afternoon when we arrived at Eversleigh. Jessie was waiting for us. She greeted me with something like affection and relief, and she looked more discreetly dressed than I had ever seen her. Her gown was a pale gray, rather simple, and her complexion was only very lightly touched up.

“I am so glad that you have come. I have been so worried. I told him that we should let you know but when he was able to understand he was rather distressed. He didn’t want to upset you. I did not know what to do but when you sent your letter saying that you was coming I was so pleased. He couldn’t read it himself. He’s not fit. You’ll see. You must be tired after the journey. Would you like to rest first … ?”

“No,” I said. “First I want to hear about him and see him.”

“I am not sure when you can see him. It will depend on the doctor.”

“The doctor is here?”

“He wouldn’t have the local man. He sent for his own doctor. It’s lucky for us that Dr. Cabel, having retired from practice, was able to stay here. He’s here now.”

“What happened?”

“It was some sort of seizure. I thought it was the end. Fortunately Dr. Cabel was already here. You see, he’d been ailing before. I suppose he was working up for this and I had said we must call in the doctor. He wouldn’t have it, and at last he agreed to my sending for his old friend Dr. Cabel. They had been friends for years and Dr. Cabel had looked after him before. Well, he came, and he stayed, expecting trouble, so he was here when Lordy had his seizure. He’s been here ever since.”

“I’d better go and see my uncle.”

“He must not be disturbed while he’s sleeping. Well, he’s sleeping most of the time, but he mustn’t be excited. Do you mind waiting until the doctor comes in? He’s just taking a little exercise at the moment. As soon as he comes in I’ll tell him you’re here. Let me take you to your room so that you can wash and change if you want to. Then we can talk about it … and I daresay Dr. Cabel will allow you to go in for a few moments.”

“My uncle sounds very ill.”

“My dear.” She gave me a little push, a reminder of the old days. “I thought it was the end. I did really. But let me take you to your room. It’s the same one. That’s all right, is it? And when you’ve washed the journey off you and had a bite to eat you’ll feel rested.”

It sounded reasonable enough but Jethro’s message had been that something strange was going on. I decided to see him at the earliest possible moment.

I went to my room, washed and changed from my riding habit into a dark blue gown. Then I went down to the winter parlor, where some wine and cakes were on the table.

“I don’t know how hungry you are,” said Jessie, “but I thought you’d better have a stopgap between now and supper.”

“I’m not hungry at all. What I want is to hear about Lord Eversleigh.”

“You shall see him as soon as Dr. Cabel comes in. He can tell you more than I.”

“How long has Lord Eversleigh been ill?”

“It’s nigh on two months since the seizure.”

“All that time! I wish I’d known.”

“I wanted to tell you. …” She lowered her eyes and I wanted to shout at her: Then why didn’t you? but I said nothing and waited.

Her eyes were on one of the cakes. She picked it up almost absentmindedly and started to eat it.

I said: “It is a big responsibility for you.”

She stopped chewing and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Lord bless you,” she said, “you’ve said a mouthful. Still, I’m fond of him and want to give him my best. He’s been good to me. It’s the least I can do.”

I felt nauseated and, as always in the company of this woman, a sense of something sinister which was all the more alarming because it was dressed up to look like normality.

I rose. I couldn’t sit there any longer and I had no appetite for the wine and cakes to which she had referred as a stopgap.

“I’ll walk round the garden,” I said. “I feel the need to stretch my legs. I’ll look forward to seeing Dr. Cabel as soon as he returns.”

“He’ll be wanting to see you.”

I went straight out to the garden. I walked round awhile and then slipped through the shrubbery.

Jethro knew that I was coming and I guessed he would be on the lookout for me. I was right. He was.

“Oh, you’ve come. Mistress Zipporah,” he said. “I’m right glad about that.”

“Thanks for sending your grandson. What’s going on at Eversleigh?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. It’s all a little odd … if you’ll forgive me saying so.”

“What do you mean by odd?”

“I haven’t seen his lordship since it happened. That must be well nigh on two months ago.”

“Couldn’t you slip in during those afternoons?”

“Well, I couldn’t be sure of them. Amos Carew, he’s more often at the house now.”

“What. You mean he’s moved in?”

“Not … not exactly. He’s still got his house … the agent’s house, you know. Oh yes, he’s still there, but more often at the Court.”

“You mean he sleeps there.”

“’Twould seem so, Mistress Zipporah. I’ve seen him coming out in the morning.”

“And that is since Lord Eversleighs seizure?”

“That’s right. They never called in Dr. Forster.”

“Dr. Forster?” I repeated. The name seemed vaguely familiar.

“He’s the new doctor here,” went on Jethro. “Been here a year or two now. People like him. He’s good, they say. But he wasn’t called in to the Court. His lordship sent for his own man.”

“Dr. Cabel,” I said. “Had he ever visited Lord Eversleigh before?”

“No. Seemingways—so I heard from some of the girls up at the Court—Dr. Cabel was an old friend of his lordship and he sent for him and he being retired from his doctoring like, he stays. They say his lordship won’t trust anyone else.”

“That is what Jessie Stirling told me. Well, Jethro, what is strange about all this? It seems Lord Eversleigh has had a stroke, as many people do at his age, and he has called in his own doctor.”

“I don’t know what it be, Mistress Zipporah, but there’s something strange about it. I’ve never been allowed to see his lordship since.”

“He has to be kept quiet, I’m told.”

“Still, I’m not that noisy. I reckon he’d like to see me. He always did. He’d sleep in the afternoons sometimes and never minded being wakened. He used to say ‘Come when you can, Jethro, and if I’m dozing wake me.’ I tried to see him … I crept up there. I know Jessie was out … and where, and Dr. Cabel he was out too. … But I couldn’t get in to see his lordship though I tried.”

“You mean you went up to his room?”

Jethro nodded. “The door was locked. It was almost as though they were expecting someone to call. I thought it was odd, Mistress Zipporah. And one of the maids who’s rather friendly with my grandson told him that Jessie cleans the room herself and none of them is allowed to go in.”

“Well, mightn’t that be that he is so ill she doesn’t want him disturbed?”

“That’s as might be but Jessie was one who never liked to sully her hands and I doubt they’d made contact with a broom for many a long day,” Jethro frowned. “Now I talk of it to you, Mistress Zipporah, it sounds all natural like. It was when I was brooding on it to myself that there seemed something wrong. I hope I haven’t upset you like … bringing you here. …”

“You did absolutely right, Jethro. It is as well that I’m here and can find out from Dr. Cabel how my uncle really is.”

He looked relieved. I said to him: “What else has been happening here? It seems to be just the same at the Court, except that Lord Eversleigh is so ill they have had to call in a resident doctor, and Amos Carew visits the house more often.”

“Oh, there’s Evalina.”

“What happened to her? Isn’t she there now?”

“She married.”

“Oh … and she’s gone away?”

“Not far. You remember Grasslands.”

“Yes, of course, it’s the rather big house … close to Enderby.”

“That’s right. Well, she went as housekeeper to old Andrew Mather. In a few months she’d married him.”

“Oh,” I said, “so Evalina is mistress of Grasslands.”

“A regular little madam she is now. Rides round in her carriage. They say that she fooled the old man good and proper; warmed his bed for him and wormed her way in till she’d got him where she wanted him. She’s learned a trick or two from her mother.”

“What about Enderby?”

“The Forsters are there.”

“Oh yes, I remember. I did meet them when I was here once.”

“Dr. Forster, whose got his practice in the town, is related to them. He’s at Enderby quite a bit, though he has a house in the town.”

“Things have really happened since I was last here. I shall keep in touch with you and if you discover anything that you think I should know do tell me. I’ll call on you again. First I have to see Dr. Cabel. There’s a lot I want to know about my uncle.”

I left Jethro and went back to the house. I went to my room and had not been there very long when there was a knock on the door.

It was Jessie.

“Dr. Cabel is here now. He’s so pleased you’ve come. Will you come down now and see him?”

“With pleasure.”

Eagerly I followed her to one of the small sitting rooms, where Dr. Cabel was waiting for us. He rose and bowed as I entered. He was of tall and commanding appearance and looked every inch the medical man. He was by no means young but he gave the appearance of carrying his years lightly. I guessed he must be some five or ten years younger than my uncle.

“Mistress Ransome,” he said taking my hand, “how glad I am that you have come. I have been saying for some time that you should be sent for.”

“How is my uncle? Is he very seriously ill?”

Dr. Cabel lifted his hands and let them sway from one side to another. “He is,” he said, “and he isn’t. If you mean could he pass away at any moment, the answer is yes … but then so could we all. If you say will he live another six months, a year … two years … even three … well, that could be possible. He has, as I think you know, had a seizure. He is not a young man. But he has survived … and there are indications that he may go on surviving.”

“There seems to be very little certainty.”

Dr. Cabel shook his head. “Mind you,” he said, “you will see a great change in him. I hope you are prepared for that, dear lady. He is paralyzed down one side … as often happens in seizures of this nature. His left hand is useless … he cannot walk even a few steps … his speech has been impaired … and you will find certain changes in his appearance. I’m afraid you will be a little shocked at the sight of him. Don’t let him see it. It would upset him. At times he is lucid … at others naturally he wanders a bit. He needs very careful nursing. He is fortunate in having Mistress Stirling on the spot.”

“I do my best,” said Jessie casting down her eyes. “There’s such a change. …” Her voice faltered. “He used to be so …”

“He has a great determination to hold on to life,” said the doctor quickly. “The fact that he has come through as he has shows this. We must be careful not to overexcite him. If you will excuse me a moment I will go to his room and if all is well I should like you to come up.”

He rose and left us.

“He’s a good man,” said Jessie. “Mind you, he likes to give the orders. Sometimes he’ll keep me out of the room. But there you are, he’s the doctor. I suppose we have to do as he says.”

I was silent. Dr. Cabel had made me feel that my uncle was in good hands.

He returned shaking his head.

“He’s sleeping,” he said. “He usually does at this hour. I’ll go up again in ten minutes. I want him to wake naturally.”

Dusk had crept into the room. We were silent for a few moments. Then the doctor said: “Do you intend to stay long, Mistress Ransome?”

“I am not sure. My husband is not really well and we have recently had a change of managers. Then there is my young daughter. …”

“Of course … of course. I see you have your responsibilities. I would keep you informed of Lord Eversleigh’s condition. He could go on like this for a very long time.”

“And it seems as if I can be of little help here.”

“Oh, I’m sure it do him good go see you,” said Jessie smiling at me.

“If he knows you … yes,” said Dr. Cabel.

“You think he might not … ?”

The doctor lifted his hands and swayed them from side to side again. “Well, we know how he is, don’t we, Mistress Stirling? There are times I think when he doesn’t know even you.”

“It’s true,” said Jessie, “and I’m silly enough to let that hurt a bit. … He was always …”

Dr. Cabel put his head on one side and looked at me quizzically.

He was a man of many gestures; immersed as I was in the state of my uncle’s health I could not help noticing this. But he did exude an air of comfort and efficiency.

After a while he said he would look in again. It was dark now and he took a candle to light himself up the stairs.

“He keeps us all in order,” said Jessie when he’d gone. “Sometimes you’d think he owned the place. But I turn a blind eye for I reckon he’s done a lot for Lordy.”

Dr. Cabel came down and nodded to me.

“Come now,” he said.

I followed him up the stairs, Jessie keeping up the rear.

Outside my uncle’s door Dr. Cabel turned to me. “You can’t stay long. I’ll give you a sign when I think he has had enough. Then I shall want you to slip away.”

Quietly he opened the door and we tiptoed in. Two candles were burning on the shelf over the carved fireplace.

The curtains were half drawn about the four-poster bed, shutting out much of the little light there was.

Dr. Cabel gently drew back one of the curtains and beckoned to me. I approached the bed. He was lying there with his eyes closed. He wore a nightcap which was pulled forward over his forehead. I had been warned but I was deeply shocked. I thought of him as I had last seen him; I remembered particularly those lively dark eyes. Now they were shut and he seemed only half alive. The skin was the same parchment color as I remembered—dry and wrinkled.

His hand was lying on the counterpane and I recognized the heavy signet ring which he had always worn.

“Take his hand,” whispered Dr. Cabel.

I did so. I felt the faintest pressure.

“Uncle,” I whispered.

His lips moved and there was a whisper. I thought it was: “Carlotta.”

“He’s trying to speak to you,” said Dr. Cabel.

“He thinks I’m my great-grandmother. He did sometimes.”

“Tell him you’ve come to see him. Tell him you’ve been thinking of him.”

“Uncle Carl.” I said, “I have come to see you. I hope we shall be able to talk while I’m here.”

I lifted the hand and kissed it. I noticed the smudge of brown near the thumb. He had once drawn my attention to it and called it one of the flowers of death. “Old people get them,” he had said. “It means youth is over.”

I felt overcome by emotion.

Dr. Cabel touched my arm lightly and nodded significantly.

He meant I must go.

I turned and was led out of the room.

Outside the door Dr. Cabel lifted the candle so that the light fell on my face.

“It was a shock,” he whispered. “I told you to be prepared.”

Jessie patted my arm.

“He might be a bit better tomorrow,” she said. “What do you think, doctor?”

“That’s so. He’s been told you’re here. He might remember tomorrow … I think he was pleased to see you. You’ve done him good.”

“He pressed my hand,” I said.

“And he tried to speak. That’s a good sign. Oh yes. Even though he mistook you for someone else. He was way back in the past. That was good … very good.”

“I’m glad I’ve seen him,” I said. “I think I’ll go to my room. I’m rather tired.”

“Yes, do,” said Jessie. “I’ll come along with you just to make sure everything’s all right. Doctor, light us to a candle will you.”

There were candles in various places about the house in case they were needed. I later realized that the servants placed them there an hour before dusk and collected them in the mornings.

We found two on a chest along the corridor and I said good night to Dr. Cabel, who went downstairs, and Jessie and I went to my room.

She lighted the four candles which had been put there for my use and looked round the room.

“You’ll sleep well,” she said. “You must be well nigh exhausted. Nothing for tiring you like traveling. What did you think of him? Did you expect to see him like that?”

“You had told me,” I said.

“When I think of what he was … and now lying there … it’s tragic.”

She blinked as though to hide a tear. I thought: Well, I suppose she is uneasy. If he died her comforts here would stop.

“If there’s anything you should want,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Well, then, I’ll say good night.”

She went out. I looked at the door. I saw the key was there.

I unpacked a few of my things. The room seemed full of shadows … eerie, menacing even. I remembered vividly arriving here on that night … before I had met Gerard … before Lottie was conceived.

I locked the door and undressed. I tried to sleep but I found that impossible. There were too many memories here for my peace of mind; and I could not get out of my mind that of that poor old man lying there … the gentle pressure of his fingers … the name Carlotta … slurred, barely audible.

The sun was streaming into my room when I awoke next morning. I had slept late.

Almost as soon as I opened my eyes a maid came in bringing hot water.

She said: “Mistress Stirling said to let you sleep on. She reckoned you was worn out.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight of the clock, mistress.”

And I usually rose at seven!

I dressed and went downstairs. Jessie was in the hall in conversation with Dr. Cabel.

“How is Lord Eversleigh this morning?” I asked.

“Not so well,” said the doctor. “I think he was overexcited about your coming.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You mustn’t be. He’s delighted really … but of course any excitement is not good for him. We’ll go a little carefully. Leave him alone for today. He’s sleeping now. I’ve given him something to steady him.”

“I suppose I’d better not go in to dust round,” said Jessie. And to me: “I do it myself. I don’t want any of them girls banging around.”

“Leave the dust for today,” said the doctor.

“You’ll be wanting breakfast,” said Jessie to me, and I followed her into the winter parlor. There was oaten bread with ale and cold bacon. I noticed Jessie lick her lips as she surveyed it.

“You must be hungry. You must eat well while you’re here. I know what it’s like traveling. Never cared much for inn meals myself.”

I ate a little of the bacon and the bread. It was good. Jessie’s interest in food meant that she kept what we used to call a very good table.

“What will you do today?” I was asked.

“I’ll go for a walk, I think. Perhaps I’ll ride this afternoon. My horse needs some exercise. But I don’t intend to go far. I want to be at hand in case my uncle wakes up and would like to see me.”

“That’s an excellent idea. He may remember last night … on the other hand he may not.”

“Well, I’ll walk this morning. Just visit a few of the old haunts.”

I went to see Jethro. I told him that I had seen my uncle and he was very relieved about that.

“Why, Jethro,” I said, “I believe you thought he’d been spirited away.”

“Well, not having seen him, mistress …”

“He’s very ill evidently. This Dr. Cabel seems a very efficient man. I was only allowed to see my uncle briefly. I hope, though, that I shall be able to be with him longer today … perhaps I can have a little talk with him. He tried to speak.”

“Well, I’m that relieved, Mistress Zipporah, and I hopes I done the right thing in bringing you here.”

“You did, Jethro, and I can tell you I have felt a little happier knowing that you were here.”

He was very pleased and told me that things were much as usual on the estate. Amos Carew kept a sharp eye on everything—just as he always had—and everything was running smoothly. Lord Eversleigh never had much say in the way things were done.

I said good-bye to Jethro and returned to the Court.

I dined there with Jessie and the doctor. He seemed to have accepted Jessie’s position and after the meal he strolled out to the stables with me.

“Lord Eversleigh will probably want to see you later on. He’s still sleeping and I want to keep him like that … until he wakes naturally. We’ll see. I am so glad you have come, Mistress Ransome. It is a relief to me to have someone of the family here.”

He looked at me rather helplessly. “Mistress Stirling,” he went on, “well, the position I gather is somewhat irregular … but I’m afraid Eversleigh was always like that. He enjoyed life in his own way and it was generally rather an unconventional way. Still … this, er … Jessie is here. I gather he was quite fond of her. … He seems more at peace if she’s there about the place. He got used to her, I suppose, and she’s a good manager. The great thing is that Carl shouldn’t be worried. He needs rest. You know I feel that with the right treatment he could go on for a very long time.”

“It is fortunate that you were able to be here.”

“Well, he likes it … but you know any doctor could have done as much. There’s a very good fellow in the town, I’ve heard. I can’t do more than he would … but there is a point that I’m on the premises.”

“Well, thank you, Dr. Cabel.”

“Which is your horse?”

“The bay mare. We get on well together.”

“You ride a good deal, Mistress Ransome?”

“Yes. I always have done.”

“Good exercise.”

One of my grooms came up. He was preparing to return to Clavering.

“Master won’t be content till I’m back and tell him you’ve arrived safe,” he said.

I smiled. “Will you saddle for me, Jim? I’m taking a ride. When will you be leaving?”

“In less than an hour.”

“Well, tell them all it won’t be long before I’m sending for you to escort me back.”

“I’ll tell master that. It’ll please him.”

The doctor looked on benignly and was still there when I mounted and rode out of the stables.

It was almost as though my horse led me there, for in a very short time I could see the towers of Enderby. I rode up to the haunted patch thinking of the day I had stepped over the palings and found Gerard. I wondered if the people whom I had met at Enderby were still there and decided it might be interesting to call. I dismounted and as I did so my heart started to beat fast, for a man was leaning over that part of the palings which was firm and upright and for a moment I thought he was Gerard. Then I saw that he most certainly was not.

He was tall as Gerard had been but much more loosely built and far from elegant. He wore a small wig, hair drawn back from the face and tied at the back with a black ribbon, as worn by almost every man; his coat was wide skirted and came to just above the knees to disclose the ends of knee breeches and legs in dark brown hose and buckled shoes—his white cravat was plain, so was his waistcoat and of the same brown as the material of his coat. He had a pleasant expression, perhaps a little austere. It was an air of seriousness about him which made me think how different he was from Gerard.

“Good day,” he called.

I returned the greeting.

“Are you calling at the house?” he asked.

“Yes, I was going to.”

“Oh, you are a friend of the Forsters?”

“A neighbor … temporarily. I am staying at Eversleigh Court.”

“Oh?” he was clearly interested.

“Lord Eversleigh is a sort of uncle,” I explained.

“He’s very ill at the moment, I believe.”

“Yes,” I said.

“I too am calling at Enderby,” he told me.

I tethered my horse to the palings and we walked together toward the house.

“I hope they will remember me,” I said.

“I am sure they will. They have spoken of you.”

“To you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m there often. As a matter of fact I’m Derek Forster’s brother.”

“Oh … are you … ?”

“The doctor,” he said.

I smiled. “I have heard of you.”

“Good reports, I hope.”

“Nothing to your detriment.”

“That is all a doctor can hope for.”

“When I came here before, your name was mentioned. You were not here then.”

“That must have been a little while ago. I have been here for about two years.”

Enderby looked different. A great number of trees had been cut down and there was a new lawn. It made the place brighter, less eerie. It must have been something like this when my mother’s aunt Damaris was the mistress of it. It no longer looked the dark, menacing house it once had.

The door opened and the woman I had previously met gave an exclamation of surprise.

“Charles!” she cried. “And …”

“I’ve brought a visitor,” he said.

“You won’t remember me,” I put in hastily. “I’m Zipporah Ransome.”

“But of course I remember you. You came before … oh, it was a long time ago. You’re related to Lord Eversleigh. Come in. Derek will be so pleased. And, Charles, how are you?”

She kissed his cheek lightly while she kept her eyes on me.

We went into the hall. Yes, it was considerably less gloomy.

“Derek!” she called.

Her husband came running down the stairs past the haunted minstrels’ gallery and I immediately remembered him. They had both been so friendly.

“You remember each other,” she said.

Derek Forster looked at me for a moment and I said: “Zipporah Ransome.” Then his face creased into a smile and he held out his hand.

“What a pleasant surprise! Come in. I am sure you are thirsty.”

“Not in the least,” I said.

“Oh, you must give Isabel a chance to try her elderberry wine on you,” said Derek. “She’ll be heartbroken if you don’t.”

“Will you try it?” she asked. She had such a pleasant, kindly face that I warmed to her immediately, and I remembered how much I had liked her previously when I had called with Sabrina.

“It would be lovely,” I said.

“Shall I tell them to bring it?” asked Dr. Forster.

“My dear Charles,” cried Derek, “there’s no need. It’s the order of the day. Visitors are here: Bring out the elderberry. Mind you, it does change sometimes. The brew of the season might be dandelion or even sloe gin.”

“He’s exaggerating,” said Isabel. “What do you think of the house, Mistress Ransome? Do you see any changes?”

“It’s lighter … it’s … happier.”

She gave me a warm smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Soon we were sitting in the little room I remembered well, sipping the wine and nibbling the wine cakes which were, I gathered, part of the ritual.

“And how are things at the Court?” asked Derek.

“I arrived only yesterday.”

“We are flattered that you called so soon,” said Isabel.

“I remembered how welcoming you were last time.”

“We like to have visitors. It’s not exactly a social neighborhood now, is it, Derek?”

“I agree with that,” he said. “It would be so different if there were large families in the three houses … Eversleigh, Enderby and Grasslands. … I suppose there were at one time. Not anymore, though. How is Lord Eversleigh?”

“I have seen him only briefly. Apparently he had a seizure.”

Dr. Forster nodded. “He has a doctor in residence, I hear.”

“Yes, Dr. Cabel. He was an old friend. My uncle must have felt ill because he asked him to come and almost immediately afterwards he had this seizure.”

“I suppose he is fairly old,” said Derek.

“Yes … he’s old. He was confined to his room when I came some years ago. It’s wonderful that he has gone on so long.”

“We do occasionally see the housekeeper and I believe they have a very good man managing the estate.”

“Yes,” I said.

“It must be a comfort to know that he is well looked after.” Isabel went on: “The housekeeper’s daughter went to Grasslands and married Andrew Mather.”

“They’re quite a clever family,” said Derek.

“Now, Derek,” said Isabel.

“Well, they say that the housekeeper at the Court is mistress of the house, maîtresse-en-titre as it were, whereas her daughter is mistress de facto.”

“Derek!” Isabel was shocked that he should be so frank in my presence. She turned to me: “You must forgive Derek. He just speaks without thinking.”

“I understand,” I said. “Uncle Carl was very fond of Jessie Stirling and she looks after him. He showed his gratitude. And I expect Evalina did the same for her master.”

“He must be all of seventy,” said Derek. “What is she? Sweet sixteen?”

“A little more, I imagine. I met her when I was here before.”

“Andrew Mather is in good health and spirits,” said Dr. Forster. “I can vouch for that.”

“Then what are we tittle-tattling about?” demanded Isabel. “Let’s talk of pleasant things, isn’t it nice that the king and queen have a son. I think it is so right that the first born of a monarch should be a son. They say the little Prince of Wales is strong and healthy and the apple of his mother’s eye.”

“Well,” said Dr. Forster, “talking of pleasant things, we have our young king and queen, our little Prince of Wales and last November the Peace of Fontainebleau. We have come rather well out of the affair, I should say.”

“Indeed,” agreed Derek. “Canada from the French and Florida from Spain.”

“Yes, but we have given up our gains in the East Indies.”

“But we have kept Senegal and some of the West Indian islands.”

“I’m sorry the people don’t care so much for Mr. Pitt nowadays,” said Isabel. “He used to be so loved. People relied on him, and just because he has accepted a pension … Poor man, he has to live. Why shouldn’t he have a pension?”

They talked very knowledgeably about what was going on in the world. I gathered they all went to London from time to time, and I felt I had shut myself away too much in the country. I seemed to learn so much just by listening to them—even frivolous items like the cost of the king’s coach, which was seven thousand five hundred and sixty-two pounds, four shillings and-three pence. Isabel was aghast at the cost and thought the money might have been better spent. I learned that there had been riots at Drury Lane Theatre and Covent Garden because the manager refused to admit people at half price at the end of the third act; and that Lord Bute had resigned and Mr. Fox had become Lord Holland, and that John Wilkes had been committed to the Tower.

I liked the Forsters very much and perhaps what I particularly enjoyed so much was the normal lighthearted company.

“You must come to see us again,” said Isabel when I rose to go.

I said nothing would please me better.

“Are you going too, Charles? I thought you would stay to supper.”

“I’ll take Mistress Ransome back to the Court and then I’ll come back.”

“That’s kind of you,” I said, “but there’s no need.”

“It’s not a need … just a pleasure,” said the doctor smiling at me.

His horse was in the stables, and he walked it out to where I had tethered mine.

“You will come over again and see us. won’t you?” he said.

“You mean at Enderby. Yes, certainly. I did enjoy being there this afternoon. Your brother and his wife are charming.”

“A perfect example of the pleasures of matrimony,” he said lightly. I looked at him quickly for I thought I detected a cynical twist of his lips. I wondered about him as I realized I had been doing during the afternoon. Had he a wife? He was not young. He must have been in his early forties … a few years older than I was.

“Very pleasant to be with,” I said.

“Yes, Derek was lucky. Isabel is a delightful person.”

“I gathered so. It is amazing what they have done for the house. It was such a gloomy old place. Now it seems quite different.”

“It had quite a reputation, I believe. They had great trouble in getting servants at first. It’s different now. Isabel soon showed them that Enderby was a very happy place to work in.”

“You’re very fond of her.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“And you have a house in the town?”

“Yes, with the practice.”

“Do you enjoy living here?”

He hesitated. “It’s not the best spot for a doctor to flourish. It’s too sparsely populated. One’s patients are too scattered; but it does have the advantage of being near a hospital in which I am interested—and Derek and Isabel, of course.”

“And I expect you are there a good deal.”

“I practically live there. There is always a welcome and if I don’t appear for a few days I am severely reprimanded.”

“That must be very pleasant for you.”

“It is,” he said.

We had come to the Court. I said good-bye to Dr. Forster and he expressed hope that we should meet again, which I endorsed.

As I turned to ride towards the stable I saw Jessie. I guessed she was just returning from her visit to Amos Carew.

She was staring after Dr. Forster, who had turned his horse and was riding back to Enderby.

Jessie followed me into the stables; her face was very red, which may have been due to the exertion of walking.

“I saw you riding with … your friend. …”

“My friend? Oh, you mean Dr. Forster.”

“I didn’t know you knew him. …”

“I didn’t till this afternoon.”

I saw that her hand was trembling slightly. She seemed somewhat out of breath.

“Oh,” she said. “You met him for the first time.”

I suddenly realized that she was putting me through a cross-examination, which I resented. I dismounted and one of the grooms took my horse.

I smiled coolly at Jessie and walked so fast toward the house that she couldn’t keep up with me.

As I entered the hall one of the maids came running down. “Oh, mistress,” she said, “there’s a visitor.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

By that time Jessie came puffing up behind me, and the maid immediately addressed herself to her.

“He’s come to stay for a while, mistress,” she said.

“Who? Who?” cried Jessie. I had never before seen her so agitated.

At that moment Dickon appeared at the top of the staircase. He cried: “Hello …” and came running down.

I stared at him—no less aghast than Jessie.

He was smiling at me. “They insisted that I come,” he said. “They seemed to think you needed looking after.”

I was shocked and angry. My dislike of him was as great as it had ever been.

Jessie had recovered herself. “I must go and see about getting a room ready for you. And are you hungry?”

“Very,” said Dickon showing his teeth in a grin.

He was aware of my feelings and was enjoying the situation.

At supper, which was taken at six, Dickon was very talkative. Dr. Cabel joined us, and Jessie, in view of her very special position in the household, as usual sat with us.

She had got over her dismay and was very affable to Dickon. The doctor seemed pleased to see him too.

Dickon said: “I was simply badgered to come. Zipporah’s mother was so worried about her ewe lamb traveling alone.”

“It was hardly alone … with seven grooms.”

“Well, she considers it alone if you are not with a member of the family. ‘I shan’t have a moment’s peace,’ she said, ‘until I know you are there to take care of my little girl.’”

“Really, Dickon, you’re talking nonsense.”

“Or words to that effect,” he said. “So I simply could do nothing but gather together a little baggage and come along. I wanted to, you know. I wanted so much to see the place again. I’m longing to explore. What was the name of that wonderful manager?”

“Amos Carew,” I said.

“Oh, old Amos. He’s still here, I hope.”

“Yes,” said Jessie. “He’s still here.”

“He and I became very great friends,” went on Dickon. “I shall go and see him tomorrow and get him to take me round the estate again.”

“He’ll be that pleased,” said Jessie.

“And poor Eversleigh is not so well?”

“He’s as well as can be expected,” said Dr. Cabel, “after a seizure such as he has had.”

“And he is so lucky to have you here, Dr. Cabel.”

“I am glad to do all I can for an old friend.”

“Old friends, yes. By the way, I miss one familiar face. Your daughter.” He had turned his smile on Jessie.

She flushed—with pleasure I think. “Oh, Evalina did rather well for herself. She’s a married lady now.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, indeed. She’s Mistress Mather of Grasslands.”

“Isn’t that the other big house …? There were three of them.”

“Yes,” I said. “Eversleigh, the manorial residence, then Enderby and Grasslands.”

“The two rather less glorious luminaries,” said Dickon, “but nevertheless quite bright when not put in the shade. So your charming daughter is mistress of Grasslands.”

“Yes, she is. She’s settled in very nicely.”

“I wonder if she would like me to call.”

“I’m sure she would.”

I felt nauseated by the smile about his mouth; I was recalling that moment in the barn. He looked at me and knew it. He was becoming a very disturbing person now that he was reaching maturity.

We had left the table and dusk was falling when Dr. Cabel approached me.

He said: “Lord Eversleigh has had a restful day. He is conscious now. If you would like to see him for a few minutes?”

“Yes, I would.”

It was the same time as it had been last night, I noticed, and remarked on this.

“Yes, there is bound to be a certain regularity,” said Dr. Cabel. “That might persist for a day or so and then the pattern could change and the mornings could be the best time to see him. Are you ready now?”

He lighted a candle, for it was dark enough now for us to need one.

Dickon met us on the stairs.

“We are going to see Lord Eversleigh,” said the doctor.”

Dickon nodded and turned away as we went into the room. The doctor put his candle down on the mantelpiece beside the other one which was burning there. Jessie was at the bedside.

She put her fingers to her lips.

“Is he sleeping?” whispered Dr. Cabel.

“No. But he’s drowsy.”

“It won’t do any harm for you to say a word to him,” said the doctor to me. “I fancy he remembered your visit last night and was looking forward to another.”

I went to the bed. His face was turned away and, as last night, his nightcap was slightly askew; his hand with the signet ring lay outside the coverlet. I bent to take it and just at that moment there was a movement at the head of the bed.

Dickon stood there.

Both Jessie and the doctor turned sharply. Jessie let out an exclamation.

The doctor went swiftly to Dickon and whispered something.

Jessie turned to me: “He wants you to take his hand. He knows you’re here.” I took the hand and kissed it just below the ring. I was thinking of Dickon’s impertinence in coming in when it had been made clear that he was not wanted.

I felt the fingers curl round mine, though he did not move his position and half his face was still buried in the pillow; but his lips moved and I thought I heard him say: “Zipporah.”

I bent over him.

“I’m here, Uncle Carl. You must get better. There’s so much to talk about.”

His eyes were closed and his head moved slightly. The doctor came back to the bed; he had evidently prevailed on Dickon to depart.

He seemed a little agitated. He raised his eyebrows and nodded to me.

“Better go now.” He mouthed the words.

I followed him out of the room. Jessie joined us.

“That was rather upsetting,” said Dr. Cabel.

“You mean Dickon’s coming in like that?”

“Yes, we have to be careful.”

“But my uncle couldn’t have been aware of it.”

“He was aware of something. I sensed the change in him. We have to be so careful. That is why I want only you to see him even when he is well enough to stand the strain of visitors.”

“It was all so quick … and quite silent … he couldn’t have been aware …”

Dr. Cabel smiled at me as though he couldn’t expect me to understand.

Then he said to Jessie: “I think I’ll go in. It might be necessary to give him something to calm him down.”

I said good night to them. I would go to my room. I wanted to read awhile.

I thought they were making a great fuss, although I deplored Dickon’s irresponsibility in walking in to the sick room when it had been made so clear to him that he wasn’t expected to do so. On the other hand I could not see that Uncle Carl, who seemed only just able to recognize me, could possibly have known about it.

I went to my room but I couldn’t read. I was disturbed. First of all by Dickon’s visit. What I wanted to think of was the pleasant afternoon I had had at Enderby but now these strange thoughts were persisting. It had all seemed so odd suddenly in that sick room that evening, although he had been lying in almost the same position with his face half buried in the bedclothes. His only response had been in the pressure of his fingers and his lips moving to say my name. I wished that I could see him alone. I supposed that would make no difference. But in the room tonight there had been something … I was not sure what … something strange … something that was worrying me.

I must go to bed. Perhaps tomorrow I might look in at Enderby again. Was that too soon? Perhaps not, as I should not be staying here long. They had said to come again.

I liked Isabel Forster very much. She was the sort of woman in whom I could confide. It was strange how my fate seemed wrapped up in Enderby. I half wanted to go and half wanted to stay away, for I couldn’t enter the place without remembering that day when Gerard had said he would show me the house. I wondered whether the brocade curtains still enclosed the four-poster bed or whether Isabel Forster had changed the inside of the house as much as she had outside. I felt if I went to sleep I would dream of that house … lying in the bed there with my lover beside me … while the sounds of the nearby fair echoed in my ears. Then I would long to be back in time. I was never going to forget.

So I lay thinking of long-ago adventures, of my own sweet daughter in whom I fancied I sometimes saw something of Gerard. Oh, it was long ago. It must be forgotten as he surely would forget. I wanted to go home. There was very little I could do here. Uncle Carl was in his doctor’s hands. If he grew very much worse they could let me know. He might go on for years in this state … and it was clear that Jessie—with the help of the doctor—would do everything in her power to keep him alive.

I dozed. Then I was awake. I wondered what Dickon was doing now. He was hardly likely to be in bed. Would he try to see Evalina? I could imagine what would happen if he did. But I didn’t want to think of Dickon. I was just angry that he had dared to follow me here, pretending that it was his mother and mine who had insisted that he come. As if anything would ever get Dickon to do what he did not want to.

No, he was fascinated by Eversleigh. Perhaps he wanted to see Evalina again. I was sure the fact that she now had a husband would have little effect on his plans.

I had dozed again and awakened startled.

I had been dreaming and my dream had been vivid. I was in the room. It was the night which had just passed. Jessie was at the bedside and so was Dr. Cabel. I was looking down at my uncle and his hand was lying on the coverlet.

I was staring at his hand—at the signet ring with the unmistakable Eversleigh crest on it. But it was his hand which held my attention. It was pale, unblemished. Where the flowers of death had been there was just plain white skin.

I sat up in bed.

No, I was imagining it. But I had it so clearly in the dream. Why should I dream that? I could really believe that the hand I saw in my dream was exactly as I had seen it that night. Had a faint surprise come to me then? It had been disturbed by the sudden realization that Dickon was in the room.

No. It was just imagination. I had just not noticed.

I lay down and tried to sleep, but it was a long time before I was able to.

When I got up next morning the imaginings of the night seemed not worth thinking of for a moment. My main concern was to avoid Dickon. I went for a walk almost to the sea and back. I was hoping I would meet someone from Enderby but I thought it was too soon to call yet—which I should have liked to do.

We met for the midday meal. Dickon was in high spirits. He told us he had explored the house and called on Amos. He had ridden out with Amos for about an hour and he was delighted to be back.

“Eversleigh!” he cried. “What a mine of treasure! Well, I suppose it has been collected through the centuries. I couldn’t find one or two of my favorite pieces from last time I was here. I suspect you, Mistress Jessie!” He paused and wagged a finger at her. She blanched and I saw her fingers catch at the table. “Yes,” he went on, “I suspect you of that female habit of changing things round.”

She relaxed a little. “Well, I like a bit of change … now and then.”

“Don’t we all,” said Dickon. “Variety adds flavor to the monotony of the day. When I was last here I was very taken with the jade collection. Uncle Carl traveled a great deal and picked up some pieces, as they say. I reckon his jade is worth a good deal.”

“He acted a bit strange before his seizure,” said Jessie.

“That’s not unusual,” put in the doctor. “You did tell me something about that. Didn’t he have an obsession about being short of money and talk of selling some of his possessions … pictures, I thought you said.”

“I wasn’t sure,” said Jessie. “He’d have people to the house …and then perhaps you’d notice something wasn’t there. … You’d just find it gone. But he used to hide things. Put them in different places.”

“How very disconcerting,” said Dickon. “Well, there is that piece of jade I missed. I’ll go hunting. I expect he’s put it somewhere. It’ll be a pleasant exercise. I do hope he didn’t sell the incense burner. That was a very special piece, I believe, and a great favorite of mine.”

“It’s very likely here somewhere,” said Jessie. “You must describe it to me and I’ll get the maids to look. It’s very likely hidden away in some place you’d least think to find it.”

“We’ll have a new game … hunt the jade,” said Dickon. “By the way, I hope he wasn’t upset last night.”

“Well, he was a little disturbed,” said the doctor.

“Because I appeared, you mean. He didn’t even look at me. He couldn’t have seen me with that nightcap right down over his eyes.”

“I don’t think he was actually aware of you exactly,” said the doctor, “but he might know something unusual was going on and be vaguely uneasy. Believe me, his condition is so precarious that I can’t have that. I want him kept quiet, and I do think it is best that I supervise the visits.”

“Not too many visitors at one time, eh?”

“I think that is understandable.”

“It’s very understandable,” said Dickon flashing his smile on them. He changed the subject abruptly. “There was an old chest I was rather interested in. Not a very good one … but the brass fittings were fine. The wood was a bit rotten in places, though. The worm had got in. I noticed it. It was Tudor, I think. I was always interested in furniture, wasn’t I, Zipporah … ? The trouble with me is that I’m interested in the wrong things. Never mind. I’m only a boy, as the family are fond of saying.”

“What about this chest?” I asked.

“Oh, I just looked for it, that’s all. I thought it was in that winter parlor … but I must have been mistaken because you’ve got that one of a much later period there now. Perhaps it was somewhere else I saw it. What do you propose to do this afternoon, Zipporah? I suppose you are not going to see Uncle Carl.”

We were both looking at Dr. Cabel. “Unthinkable,” he said. “I am not sure that you will be able to see him today at all. He’s not had one of his good days.”

“Too many strangers in the house,” said Dickon.

“How would he know that?” I asked.

“You never know,” said Dickon showing all his teeth. His eyes glittered so strangely that it could hardly be said that he was smiling.

I was glad when I could leave the table. I wanted to get away from the house, away from Dickon. My dream had disturbed me more than I would care to admit. I went for a long ride, not to the sea this time, and it was past four when I decided I should return. I came back by way of Grasslands—a very pleasant house this, about the same size and type as Enderby but very different, surrounded by grassy lawns from which I suppose it derived its name.

A horse was tethered near the mounting block. I recognized it as Dickon’s.

He has lost no time, I thought. I hesitated. My impulse was to ride away as quickly as I could. I did not want to see Evalina and be reminded of the last time I had seen her and the words she had directed at me. Then I wondered whether I should speak to Dickon. After all he was of the family; he had come down here on my account; he was not really much more than a boy. It was very different frolicking with an unmarried girl but if that girl had a husband he might land into serious trouble.

Perhaps, I thought, turning my horse away, it is just a friendly call and I am misjudging him. Misjudge Dickon! It was hardly likely.

But no. I would call. I tied up my horse and walked boldly to the front door and pulled the bell rope.

It was opened by a maid who looked questioningly at me.

I said: “Is Mistress Mather at home?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Will you tell her Mistress Ransome has called.”

“Please to come in,” said the maid and I was taken into a hall slightly smaller than that at Enderby and lacking the minstrels’ gallery which was such a feature of that place.

“Mistress has a guest now,” said the maid, “but I’ll tell her.”

A short while after she came back. “Please to step this way, mistress.”

I followed her up the wide staircase to the landing. The maid opened the door and I walked in.

Evalina came toward me, her hands outstretched. She was somewhat elaborately dressed in a rose-colored gown, her face delicately painted and her hair elegantly arranged. She was beaming with satisfaction. She certainly enjoyed playing the lady of the house. Seated in a chair was a man whom I guessed to be Andrew Mather, and in another, his well-shaped legs encased in finest hose spread out before him, was Dickon.

“What a pleasure,” she said in a lightly affected voice. “Do come in and meet my husband. I have told Andrew quite a lot about you.”

I thought I detected an undercurrent of meaning in her words but pretended I did not. Andrew Mather had risen. He walked toward me with the aid of a stick.

“I am so pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said.

I was looking into a pair of mild blue eyes. His smile was pleasant and really welcoming.

“My other guest, you know,” went on Evalina.

Dickon stood up and gave me a mocking bow.

“Yes,” I said. “I saw your horse.”

“Such detection,” murmured Dickon, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “Do you know they sent me here to keep an eye on her, but I fancy she is keeping an eye on me.”

“It would be quite impossible to follow all your activities.” I said.

Evalina gave a little giggle. “Sit down, dear Andrew love,” she said. “You know how tiring you find it standing.” She took his arm and led him tenderly back to his chair.

“She fusses over me far too much,” he said to me.

“Not more than you deserve,” Evalina had forced him into his chair and planted a kiss on his forehead.

He looked very happy.

“Now please sit down, Mistress Ransome,” said Evalina. “I am longing to hear how you find it at the Court.”

“I believe Lord Eversleigh is very ill indeed,” said Andrew.

“My mother takes good care of him.”

“Excellent care,” murmured Dickon. He exchanged a glance with Evalina.

“She always has … as I do of my own Andrew.”

She smiled possessively at her husband, who returned the smile.

I thought: She overacts … and that makes one begin to feel there is something not quite right. It is the same with her mother.

“I bet you were surprised to find me married.”

“I don’t know why I should be.”

“Well, married so well,” she said with a fond look at her husband.

“I am pleased to see you are so happy and it must be pleasant to be so near your mother,” I said,

“Well, there is that,” she said. “Would you like some refreshment?”

“No, thank you. I merely called to congratulate you.”

“It was kind of you,” said Andrew Mather.

He looked to me to be a deeply contented man, and I reminded myself that Uncle Carl had been contented with Jessie. What was it these women had which could make their men contented even though they must be aware that they were paying a price for their comfort? But I was being unfair to Evalina. She seemed as though she really were devoted to her husband. Then I thought of Jessie, so kind and tender to Uncle Carl, so solicitous of his comforts and slipping off to spend the afternoon with Amos Carew.

Perhaps I was prejudiced against Evalina. Perhaps she had changed and was no longer the same girl who had blackmailed me over the key, frolicked with Dickon in the barn and then thrown that remark at me on the very last occasion we had met.

“This is a very pleasant house,” I said.

“We like it, do we not, Evalina?” said Andrew. He had turned to Dickon. “You were quite complimentary about it.”

“I said what I felt,” said Dickon, “and that is that it had great charm. Your lady wife showed me everything. … It was a fascinating voyage of discovery.”

He was looking at her slyly and I saw the glance which passed between them. I believed then that they were continuing with that relationship of which I had had a hint in the barn. I was sure it was a situation which would appeal to Dickon—aging, uxorious husband, wife who was much younger than he was and decidedly loose in her morals … and the gay philanderer looking where he could for easy gratification of his ever demanding senses.

“I was telling your cousin … is he your cousin?”

“The relationships in our family are very complicated to explain,” I said. “Dickon’s mother is my mother’s cousin. I’m not sure what that makes us.”

“Cousins is good enough for me, dear Zipporah,” Dickon said.

“Well, I was telling your cousin that I want him to take a look at the chest in the second bedroom on the third floor of the west wing. I feel certain it is thirteenth century, very simple, decorated with chip-carved rondels. Really Gothic.”

“I’m interested to see that,” Dickon confirmed.

“Andrew is very taken with old things,” Evalina explained, pouting a little. “I think he would like me better if I were old.”

He smiled at her fondly.

Dickon sighed. “Alas, people do not grow more beautiful with age.”

“They may grow more interesting,” I suggested.

“Oh, Mistress Ransome,” cried Evalina, “you are telling me that, I am a foolish little thing. I think you are probably right, but that is the way Andrew likes me.”

I felt it was all rather nauseating and said quickly: “Is it just antique furniture which interests you, Mr. Mather?”

“Mainly,” he replied. “I’m also interested in art generally, pictures, statuary … objets d’art generally, I suppose.”

“I understand you have a very fine collection,” said Dickon.

“Well, not as extensive as I should like it to be. You are rather knowledgeable yourself, I see. Do go and have a look at that chest sometime.”

Evalina leaped up. “I’ll take him now,” she said. “Then he can give you his opinion right away. You will excuse us,” she went on. “It won’t take long, will it?” She looked archly at Dickon.

“We’ll be quick,” he said.

I was left alone with Andrew Mather. I was picturing those two and wondering what they would be saying as they studied the chest. That Dickon would cynically make some assignation with her, I was sure, and that she would accept seemed equally certain.

“I am surprised,” I said, “that Dickon is regarded as an expert on fine furniture. I can’t think where he could have acquired his knowledge.”

“He has a feeling for it. I sense that by the way he talks. He’s very young, of course, and therefore lacking in experience but some people have instinct. I think he might have that and I’d like his opinion on the effect it has on him.”

“It is a great interest for you, I’m sure.”

“It is. When one is crippled it is good to have those interests which are not too demanding physically. I have always had this love of art. I lived in Italy for a time, years ago. In fact it was there that I first met Lord Eversleigh.”

“Oh, I was not aware that you knew him.”

“We lived there for some months. We were both interested in art treasures and Florence was the Mecca for people like us. It was he who told me about the houses near Eversleigh when I was wanting to buy one. The other one, Enderby, was occupied at the time so I bought Grasslands.”

“Was that very long ago?”

“Long before his illness.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“No. That doctor of his frowns on visitors. I have not seen him since his seizure. I used to call occasionally but it wasn’t easy for either of us. He was crippled and couldn’t leave the house and I was plagued with my rheumatism. I walk around with a stick but I don’t feel inclined to go far afield. The doctor says I should take a little exercise but not strain myself.”

“Do you know Dr. Cabel? He was a friend of my uncle long ago. I wonder if …”

“No, I never met him. He is retired from his profession now, I believe, and that is why he can give so much attention to Lord Eversleigh. I have a very good man myself. Dr. Forster.”

“Dr. Forster!” I cried. “I did meet him.”

“A very good man, I think. As a matter of fact I should like him to take a look at Lord Eversleigh.”

“Wouldn’t that be somewhat unethical?”

“I suppose so, since he has his own doctor. On the other hand … Dr. Cabel is retired and Dr. Forster is a comparatively young man. He might have more up-to-date knowledge.”

“I … should like that very much … but I don’t see how it can be suggested.”

“No, I suppose not. He has done me a lot of good. Special pills, you know, and he takes a real interest. He gives me confidence.”

“Lord Eversleigh is hardly conscious. I think he recognizes me but so far he has said little except my name.”

“Well, I suppose he is fortunate to be alive at all. So many people die after an affair like that. But I do have such confidence in Dr. Forster. He’s a good man, you know. I only discovered a few weeks ago that he runs a home for unwanted children.”

“Oh, does he? I didn’t know that. I only met him briefly. I think he did mention a hospital. I happened to be wandering past Enderby, where his brother lives. I had met them on another occasion and they asked me in and then the other day I saw them again and that was when I met Dr. Forster.”

“Yes, he puts a lot of work into this hospital of his. It’s a fine thing. He has a special feeling, they say, for children.”

“Has he any of his own?”

“I don’t think so. I believe he was married … something happened. The wife died or something … and after that he started this place. He spends some time there I believe because it’s not a large practice here.”

“That’s very interesting,” I said. “I thought he was an unusual man, although as I said our meeting was brief.”

Evalina had come back with Dickon: She looked flushed and I noticed that one of the buttons on her blouse was not done up. Dickon was as calm and self-possessed as ever. I guessed there had been some sort of amorous encounter, and as I felt a liking for Andrew Mather my disgust for the two of them was greater than ever.

“What did you think of the chest?” asked Andrew.

“Interesting,” said Dickon. “Very interesting. Crudely made rather … “I suppose that is because it is thirteenth century. I thought the chip-carved rondels were exciting. By the way that’s a lovely piece you have inside the chest. I wonder why you shut it away and keep it wrapped up? Are you afraid of someone stealing it?”

“What piece is that?” asked Andrew.

Evalina said: “Oh, it’s nothing really. It’s just one of those things you have in the chest.”

“I didn’t know there was anything there.”

“You’d know about this,” said Dickon. “It’s a treasure.”

Andrew looked puzzled and Dickon said, “I’ll go up and get it. I did want to ask you about it.”

“Oh, another time,” said Evalina. “I’m tired of all this talk about old things.”

Dickon smiled at her and went out of the room.

Evalina was frowning. She said rather crossly. “Oh, I do wish we could do something sensible.”

“What would you like to do?” asked Andrew fondly.

“Have a ball or banquet … something which I could plan.”

“We’ll have to see.”

I said: “I think I should be going.”

“It was good of you to call,” said Andrew.

“Yes, it was nice seeing you again. I remember the last time …” Her eyes were malicious, daring me to mention it. “It seems quite a long time ago.”

Dickon came back. He was holding a bronze statuette in his hands, which he held out to Andrew.

Andrew gasped. “Where did you find that?”

“It was in the chest.”

Andrew took it and turned it over and over in his hands. He murmured: “I’ll swear this is the one. I’ve seen it before. It was in Florence years ago. It’s a beautiful thing. It was said to have been done by a pupil of Michelangelo.”

“That,” said Dickon, “would account for the purity of the lines.”

“And it was in my chest! Impossible! How could it have got there? It belongs to Lord Eversleigh. … At least it did when I last saw it … if it’s the one. We both wanted it. He could bid higher than I … and it was his. But how … ? I don’t understand.”

Evalina sat on a stool and laid her head against her husband’s knee.

“I’d better confess,” she said. “Although I swore to my mother I wouldn’t tell. It’s hers. I’m keeping it for her.”

“Here?” said Andrew. “But this was one of the pieces Lord Eversleigh most prized.”

“I know,” said Evalina. “That was why he gave it to her. He wanted to give her something good … something valuable. I suppose he was thinking it was something she might sell after he died if she fell on hard times. I was holding it for her. She thought that if it was left at the Court and Lord Eversleigh died she wouldn’t be allowed to have it. I’m sorry. Have I done wrong?”

Andrew touched her hair caressingly. “Of course not, and I suppose there is something in that. She would have to prove that he’d given it to her.”

“How could she do that? She can’t very well say ‘I want it written down that you’ve given me this’ … or that. … He’s given her one or two things … and she’s asked me to mind them for her. I thought I’d wrap them up and keep them for her. There’s no harm in that, is there?”

“Of course there’s no harm. But this is a very valuable piece. I don’t suppose your mother realizes the value.”

“Oh, she said Lordy wouldn’t give her any old rubbish. Some of the things he gives her she leaves there and hopes for the best. It was just the things she thought were special.”

Andrew was turning the statue over and over in his hands.

“Exquisite,” he said. “Well, I suppose I should be honored to have it in my house for a little while.”

Evalina took it firmly from him.

“I think I’d better wrap it up and put it away,” she said. “I promised my mother I would take care of it.”

I sensed tension in the atmosphere. Evalina threw a glance at Dickon in which there was a certain dislike. She had not cared that he should find the hiding place of the bronze statue and then show it to her husband. Dickon’s expression was inscrutable.

I said I really must go and I thanked them for their hospitality.

Dickon said he would stay awhile. He wanted to talk about the chest and have a closer look at the bronze statue.

I left the house and rode slowly back to Eversleigh.

At supper that evening Dickon was rather more quiet than usual. At dusk I was taken once more to Uncle Carl’s room. It was the same ritual; the brief visit, the hovering Jessie and the doctor, the brief pressure of the hand, the murmuring of my name, and then all too soon the request to leave the room.

I wondered if I was ever going to speak to my uncle.

I retired early but not to sleep. I sat in the window for a long time looking out and thinking about the events of the day—the marriage of Evalina to Andrew Mather and Dickon’s discovery of the valuable statue which had belonged to my uncle and which Evalina had said he had given to her mother.

Had he? I wondered. How easy it would be for Jessie to help herself to valuable objects and hide them away somewhere!

Of course it was perfectly plausible that he had given them to her, and she might have been denied them if Uncle Carl died. What would happen then? I suppose Rosen, Stead and Rosen had some instructions. Would they come in and assess his possessions? Would they know if anything was missing? How could they? He was perfectly entitled to give his valuables away if he so wished. But it would be difficult for someone like a housekeeper to say some valuable object had been given to her if it were still in the house. He might very well have given her the statue—and other things besides—and she felt she had to get them out of the house while she had a chance.

It was an unusual situation and very difficult to assess. Something should be done, I was sure, but I did not know what. Perhaps I should go and see Rosen, Stead and Rosen. I wished there was someone whose advice I could ask.

I could only think of the Forsters. But I hardly knew them well enough and could scarcely put such a private matter before them when I had met them only twice.

My mother always said: “When in difficulties always wait. Sleep on a big decision. It’s often wisest.” My father would have been different. He would have been more impulsive.

My sleep was once more fitful. I could never settle to regular sleep in this house. I suppose it was because my mind was so uneasy.

I was awakened from a light doze because I thought I had heard a noise below. I sat up in bed. It was two o’clock. I was sure someone was out on the lawn.

I got out of bed and went to the window and was just in time to see a figure go into the house.

Two o’clock! Who could it be? I immediately thought of Amos Carew coming to visit Jessie. Old Jethro had said that he came some nights. On the other hand it might have been Dickon. I imagined that he could have been paying a late-night call on Evalina. It was the sort of situation which would amuse him. I could imagine his making love with Evalina in a room close by that in which her husband lay. It was a Boccaccio situation and one I was sure which Dickon—and perhaps Evalina—would find highly diverting. But she had not been very pleased with him when he had brought out the bronze figure, I was sure; and he knew it and metaphorically he snapped his fingers at her. The incident could have brought about a coolness between them.

There was so much that needed explaining. I went to my door and listened. Stealthy footsteps were coming up the stairs.

I waited pressed against the door. If it were Dickon and he were returning to his room, those steps would go on past my room, for he was at the end of this corridor.

I waited. There was silence. I heard the sound of a door opening and being quietly shut.

It seemed as though it was not Dickon.

I locked my door and returned to bed. It must have been Amos Carew visiting Jessie.

The next morning Jessie was hovering in the hall when I came down dressed for my morning walk.

“Hello,” she said. “Off out?”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “I wonder what good I’m doing here,” I went on. “Lord Eversleigh doesn’t know I’m here, I’m sure.”

“He knows it, all right. It’s just that he’s lost the power to say so. But I know what you mean. … We’re all so frustrated.”

“It goes on,” I said. “I suppose it has been like that for weeks.”

She nodded.

“I was wondering,” I said, “if there is anything that could be done.”

“We’re doing all we can.”

“Yes, I know, but there have been so many new ideas in the medical profession recently. Some of them have worked wonders.”

“That’s why I’m so glad we’ve got Dr. Cabel living here.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. He’s retired and he was an old friend and I am sure Uncle Carl likes to have him here … but since his day there may have been advances in medicine. I was wondering whether we could call in a new opinion.”

She was silent. She had turned slightly away from me. It seemed a long time before she spoke and when she did her voice was trembling a little.

“I’m sure I’ve thought of everything,” she said. “You can imagine what he means to me. Oh no, you can’t … nobody could. I know you think he is a meal ticket to me. He is, of course, but that’s not all. I’ve loved the old fellow … I still do. I can’t bear to think of him gone. … Oh, I know you’ll say … yes, where will you be, Jess Stirling, without him. Out on your ear, that’s where. Well, it’s not quite like that. I’ve looked after the future.”

Yes, I thought. Italian Renaissance statues tucked away for a rainy day!

“I’m fond of him. I’ve said to him: ‘Ought we to get another doctor?’ He doesn’t like it. He said, ‘Old Cabel is the best I’ve ever known.” Wouldn’t trust himself with any of these modern quacks. That was what he said … quacks.”

“When did he say this?” I asked quickly.

“Oh, it was before the seizure. When he was working up for it, you might say. I said then that we should get another doctor and he wouldn’t hear of it. Got quite worked up at the thought.”

“I see,” I said. “But he would hardly be aware, would he now? He doesn’t really know me. If we called in Dr. Forster …”

“Dr. Forster! You mean … the doctor here!”

“I was thinking of him. I met him at Enderby. They’re very nice people. I don’t see why we shouldn’t call him in. Two opinions are better than one.”

“I believe Dr. Cabel would go if we did. Doctors don’t like that. They like you to trust them.”

“I suppose it might be unethical.”

“Well … I don’t know. Don’t do anything yet, though. Perhaps I could sound them … both Lordy and Dr. Cabel.”

“You mean you would ask Lord Eversleigh? He would never understand.”

“Oh, I think he might. You’re worried, aren’t you? You think he shouldn’t go on like this. Dr. Cabel thinks it a bit of a miracle that he does.”

I said: “I wish I could see him more often. Those brief visits by candlelight …”

“I know.”

“At night,” I said, “when he is probably tired.”

“It was his wish that he sees people after dusk. He’s changed such a lot. It’s done something to his face. … It’s draws his mouth down one side. It’s made his hair come out. He’ll never take off that nightcap and he wears it so as to hide half his face. He was a very vain man … very fond of his own appearance. … He can’t bear the change in himself. I keep the mirror well out of his way.”

“All the same I should like to see him in the light of day.”

“You’d hardly recognize him. He’s a pitiful sight.”

“Dr. Forster seems to have a good reputation,” I said.

“You’re worried … just like me … I know. I pray God he’ll recover.” She crossed herself as she spoke and looked rather anxiously upward. It had never occurred to me that Jessie was a religious woman and I had thought the gold cross which she always wore about her neck was an ornament rather than a symbol.

I said: “I shall go for a walk now.”

“You’re a good walker,” she said.

“Yes, I like the fresh air. It makes me think.”

She nodded and I went out. At the door I turned to look back at her. She was watching me and as she did so was fingering the cross about her neck.

I walked briskly towards the town. It was a long walk. I remembered how Gerard had driven me in that post chaise he had borrowed when we were concerned with Uncle Carl’s will. There was no time to go to the solicitor this morning Moreover. I was not sure whether it was the right thing to do. I imagined that Mr. Rosen might not be the most tactful of men, and if he were to upset Jessie or Dr. Cabel we might succeed in worrying Uncle Carl to such an extent that his condition grew worse.

I wished there was someone whose advice I could ask.

I wished I knew the Forsters better, I wished I could trust Dickon.

There seemed nothing to do but wait. I had always been able to see several sides to a question. It sometimes had the effect of making me hesitant because one was never sure which way to act for the best. People who had definite ideas need not hesitate. They were sure they were right even when they were wrong. But f could never be entirely sure.

As I saw it, Jessie was immoral: when she had been Uncle Carl’s mistress she was also that of his agent. But at the same time she had provided comfort such as he longed for. The three of them had been happy. Whereas had she done the honorable thing and left Uncle Carl he would have been miserable. It was the same with Evalina. There was no doubt that she had made Andrew Mather very happy. If she was indulging in sexual adventure outside her marriage, as long as Andrew didn’t know …

It seemed mixed morality in a way. After all, I had the example of my own lapse before me.

So I remained undecided. I went back to the house. At dinner Dr. Cabel was as affable as ever toward me so I presumed Jessie had not said anything about my suggesting calling in other advice. Dickon was vivacious and said he was going over to Grasslands in the afternoon.

“Andrew likes me to enjoy his treasures,” he said looking at me mischievously.

I walked toward Enderby hoping that I should accidentally meet one of the Forsters. I was unlucky. I just stood by the palings looking at that incredibly gloomy piece of wasteland and hoping for a sign to tell me what to do.

After supper I went to visit Uncle Carl again.

“He is a little better today,” said Dr. Cabel as we went up to Uncle Carl’s room. “I think your coming has done something for him. I think you could stay a little longer with him. Let’s see how we go … shall we?”

He was lying there, blotched hands on the counterpane, his fingers twitching a little as I sat down. An indication, I thought, that he wanted me to take his hand.

I did so.

“Uncle Carl,” I said, “it’s Zipporah.”

His eyes were half closed … I could see that his mouth was drawn up at one side. It made him look unlike the man I had known. His nose looked sharper … I thought his face looked a little fuller. But it was his eyes I had always noticed about Uncle Carl—those lively dark eyes—and now the lids were drawn down over them and he wasn’t like Uncle Carl anymore. “Zipporah …” he whispered.

“Dear Uncle Carl. I came when I heard you weren’t well. You’re better now. … Able to see me … able to tell me you know I’m here.”

He pressed my hand and nodded.

“Good …” he said, “good people …”

“Yes.” I said. “You are well looked after.”

“Good doctor … friend …”

His hands fluttered. He groaned. “Don’t go. … Good Ralph … Mustn’t …”

I presumed Ralph to be Dr. Cabel. It seemed that he had had some inkling that I had suggested another doctor be called.

I said: “No, no … everyone you want will be here …. It’s all right.”

I felt a great desire to soothe him for he had lifted his head slightly and it was swaying from side to side.

“Rest,” I said.

Dr. Cabel was beside me.

“Now, old fellow,” he said. “I’m here. Your old friend Ralph is with you all the time. I’m not going to leave you. All’s well. There! You trust me, don’t you?”

He nodded to me. And I got up.

“Take his hand,” he whispered.

I took it and kissed it.

“Good night, dear uncle,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was lying back with his eyes closed.

I went to my room but before I had mounted the stairs to the next floor I heard the doctor and Jessie come out of the room.

Dr. Cabel was saying angrily: “What did you say to him? Did you tell him I was going? You should have had more sense.”

Jessie spoke almost tearfully. “I just said that we might call in another doctor … as well … two heads are better than one. … I didn’t think he understood.”

“You know very well he takes in a lot. I would pack my bag tomorrow … if I thought I could safely leave him.”

“Oh, Dr. Cabel … please … please … don’t. I was just talking it over with Mistress Ransome. It just seemed like an idea.”

“The great idea is to keep his mind at rest. I understand him. I’ve known him for years. I thought he was going to be so good tonight. I did want Mistress Ransome to be able to talk to him a little. For heaven’s sake, Mistress Stirling, be careful what you say in his presence.”

“I will … oh, I will.”

I went into my room and shut the door.

I felt guilty but my uneasiness outweighed my guilt.

Next morning I walked into the town and called on Rosen, Stead and Rosen. I was immediately shown into the office of Mr. Rosen senior. He greeted me with as much warmth as I was sure he was capable of showing and begged me be seated.

“It is very pleasant to see you here again, Mistress Ransome,” he said. “Tell me, how is Lord Eversleigh?”

“I see very little of him. He is very ill, you know.”

“I do know that, but there is a doctor in residence, which is very comforting.”

“Yes, he was an old friend of Lord Eversleigh … now retired and so it is possible for him to give up all his time to look after my uncle.”

“Splendid! Of course, I doubt very much whether this state of affairs will last. A man in Lord Eversleigh’s condition … Ah well, he is not a young man.”

“I wondered about one or two things. Have you visited Eversleigh?”

“My nephew went some time ago … soon after Lord Eversleigh had his seizure. He saw the doctor. Lord Eversleigh was scarcely in a state to see anyone, and it was agreed that we go on as we had been doing for some time. Lord Eversleigh had given us power of attorney, so the bills came to us and we pay the salaries of the staff … as we had been doing for some time.”

“I see. I did wonder about certain things.”

“For the time being everything seems to be in order.”

“You are satisfied with the way in which the house is being run? I mean … expenses are not excessive.”

“Indeed no. The … er … housekeeper seems to be a woman of good sense who manages the household quite skillfully. The doctor takes no remuneration at all. I gather he is a man of means. He told my nephew that he had known Lord Eversleigh for many years.”

“Yes, that is so. I just wanted to make sure that you were satisfied that there was nothing … unusual about what was happening.”

“It is not an ideal situation, but I think in the circumstances the arrangements couldn’t be improved on. The accounts are more or less what they have always been. I have no reason to believe that the housekeeper is not running the-house in just the same manner as when Lord Eversleigh was … er … compos mentis, in a manner of speaking.”

“I see.”

“I am relieved that you have come to see Lord Eversleigh. There is no secret of the fact that you are his heiress and I am delighted to have your assurance that you are satisfied with the manner in which the affairs of Eversleigh are being conducted.”

“It is a little bewildering. I have not been able to exchange a word with Lord Eversleigh.”

“The seizure, I gather, has taken the form of paralysis and partially robbed him of speech. That’s not uncommon.”

“I wanted to assure myself that you were satisfied with the manner in which Lord Eversleigh’s affairs were conducted at the Court.”

“I should be more satisfied if some member of the family were in control. But this doctor inspired great confidence in my nephew and we feel that as long as he is there he will see that everything is in order. The … er … housekeeper does seem to be a woman of good sense and she appears to honor her obligations. If you could reside at the Court until everything resolves itself that would be ideal, but I understand you have your other family commitments which make that impossible.”

I agreed that this was so and we talked awhile and then I rose to go.

He took my hand and held it firmly.

“Rest assured, my dear lady, that should anything happen you will be notified without delay.”

I thanked him and left feeling considerably relieved.

I was rather late for the midday meal. Jessie sat with us as she sometimes did and there was the doctor, Dickon and myself.

I explained that I had walked a little farther than I had meant to and didn’t realize it until I began to make my return journey.

“It’s such a lovely day.” I finished lamely.

“Roast pork should be eaten hot,” said Jessie, a little severely, I thought. She was so devoted to food that she considered a lack of enthusiasm to get to it a kind of lese majesty.

Dickon was in a talkative mood. He was very affable to everyone and seemed almost in a state of excitement. I wondered whether this had anything to do with his reunion with Evalina, or perhaps he had found a new light o’ love. In any case he seemed to be suppressing excitement.

His eyes sparkled. He was incredibly good-looking—handsome with that hyacinthine type of fair hair which curled about his head and those startling blue eyes which were alert and filled with lurking laughter. A mixture of the handsome dignity of Apollo and the mischief of Pan.

I asked how Lord Eversleigh was and the doctor replied that he had had a little setback last night.

“I am so sorry, Mistress Ransome. It was just at the time when I thought he was really showing some improvement.”

He looked rather angrily at Jessie, who lowered her eyes and gave even more attention to the food on her plate than usual.

“Well,” went on the doctor, “we have these upsets. They pass. He seemed more at rest during the morning.”

Dickon said: “I had a wonderful morning. I rode quite a way … to country I hadn’t seen before. I found the most wonderful old inn. Forgotten the name of it. It was very traditional … just what an old inn should be. I took a snack there.”

“What did they give you?” asked Jessie, always interested in food.

“Ripe stilton with hot bread—rye, I think it was. … dark and crusty.”

“You want plenty of butter on it,” said Jessie. “Let it sink in and then a good hunk of cheese on top.”

She was tasting it, I knew, in spite of the pork on her plate.

“That’s how it was—with the inn’s special brand of cider. Delicious.”

“And you came straight back here to your good dinner. I haven’t noticed any lack of appetite. Master Frenshaw!”

“You know how you admire my strength at the table. You and I are a pair. Mistress Jessie.”

“Go on with you! I never could abide people who pick at their food.”

“It was a typical gathering. The old blacksmith came into the inn parlor. There were several of us there. He was a gloomy man. He’d evidently got a reputation for it. The others teased him a bit, ‘We have a wager every year on Blacksmith Harry,’ they told me. ‘If anyone can get him to smile between Christmas Day and Twelfth Night we give ’un a shilling … and that’s six of us. You can reckin we work hard to make blacksmith smile. No one’s had any luck yet.’ He was obviously a favorite of them all and I discovered why. He’d got a real gift for telling a story.”

“Did he tell you some?” I asked.

“One,” said Dickon.

“Was it interesting?”

“It was the way he told it. Now that’s the test of a storyteller. If an old tale which must have been heard many times suddenly holds your attention then that’s the mark of a good story-teller. Blacksmith Harry had us all ears, I can tell you.”

“Tell us the story as well as he did.”

“Oh, I’d spoil it. I’m a man of action. I’m no story-teller.”

I said: “It’s most extraordinary, Dickon, to hear you admit you can’t do something.”

“You are really whetting our appetites,” added Dr. Cabel.

“Well, I’ll have a try. But you really need the blacksmith. There was a man in the village whose daughter kept house for him. He was an old miser and an objectionable character in many ways and gave the daughter a bad time. He’d sent off the man who wanted to marry her so that she could go on keeping house for him. He’d already worried his poor wife into the grave.”

“In fact,” I said, “a most undesirable character.”

“Exactly,” said Dickon. “Well, one day the man wasn’t there anymore. He had gone off, said his daughter, to see his brother up in Scotland. The daughter changed the house … made it merry … put up fresh curtains. Her lover came back. There was nothing to stop them getting married now. They could do it while the man was away and when he got back it would be too late to stop it. So preparations were made for a wedding feast … and everyone said what a good thing it was that the old man had gone to visit his brother in Scotland.

“It was all very happy and showed what misery some people could make for others … for the daughter was very pleased with herself these days. Then all changed … and in a way you might not believe.”

“The old man came back,” I said.

“Yes … in a way.”

“Oh, come on, Dickon,” I cried. “No need to hold back the suspense.”

“He came back … but not in human form.”

“A ghost,” cried Jessie turning pale.

Dickon lowered his voice: “The old man was seen hovering near the well. Several people thought they saw a man there. But he disappeared before they could make sure. Nobody believed them at first … but then the daughter saw him. She let out a shriek and fainted dead away (the blacksmith’s words). She was in a fine state. They couldn’t calm her. Well, to cut a long story short, since I haven’t the blacksmith’s gift, it seemed that the old man had not gone to Scotland at all. He had fallen down the well, with a little help from his daughter. She told the whole story. He’d slipped when drawing water. That was her story. He’d called out and she did nothing about it. She just left him there screaming.”

Jessie had turned pale and was clasping the cross about her neck.

“Well,” said Dickon, “they found his body in the well. They reckoned his daughter had had great provocation and it was never proved that she’d actually pushed him down. She just hadn’t done anything to save him. They gave him a decent burial and he never appeared at the well again. That was all he was asking for … a proper grave. The blacksmith reckoned he knew he’d made his daughter’s life a hell. He didn’t want revenge on her, all he wanted was a decent burial. So the body was put in a coffin and the burial service was said over it. And from that day to this his ghost has never again been seen.” Dickon leaned back in his seat. “You ought to have heard the blacksmith tell it.”

Jessie was staring down at the uneaten food on her plate.

Two days passed uneventfully. I paid only one visit to Uncle Carl. Dr. Cabel said he was not well enough on the first of those days; the second I saw him and he held my hand and said a few words.

“Improving,” said Dr. Cabel, his eyes shining. “I can’t tell you how happy I am when he shows a little glimpse of his old self.”

I walked over to Enderby and was disappointed when I heard that Derek and Isabel had gone to London for a few days. it was on the second day when I came upon Jessie sitting in the winter parlor with the cook, Daisy Button, a plump woman, waistless so that she looked rather like a barrel, good-natured, easily offended, dedicated to her cooking, determined to protect her dignity. I knew that Jessie had had a few tussles with her but there was a certain friendship between them and whatever airs, the cook complained, Jessie gave herself, anyone who was so appreciative of Daisy Button’s culinary masterpieces could be forgiven.

Daisy Button, I had heard, could tell whether a girl was pregnant almost before the girl knew it herself; she had even been known to prophesy correctly the sex of the child; her grandmother had been a witch and she had powers.

When I approached, Daisy Button got up and bobbed a rather reluctant curtsy and said she was discussing the day’s supper with Mistress Stirling, and she hoped she was giving satisfaction. A large part of her beautiful tansy pudding had been sent back to the kitchen from the dinner table.

I said the tansy pudding was absolutely delicious and if those at the table had not eaten of it as voraciously as it deserved it was because they had gorged themselves on the very excellent roast beef which had preceded it.

I saw the cards in Daisy Button’s apron pocket and guessed she had been giving Jessie what she would call “a reading.”

I said: “I see you have the cards. Have you been telling fortunes’?”

“Oh, well,” said Daisy, “Mistress Stirling did ask me to have a peep for her.”

“Has she good fortune in store?”

“Couldn’t be better,” said Daisy. “A rosy future … with love and money. She’s going for a journey.”

“Oh?” I said. “Are you going to leave us, Jessie?”

“Not while I’m needed,” said Jessie sententiously.

“No, it’s for the future,” put in Daisy. “She’s going to meet a rich stranger and she’s going to find peace and happiness in this new friendship.”

“It sounds very interesting,” I said turning away.

Jessie surprised me. When I had first met her I thought her a hard-headed, scheming woman. She was probably all this, but in addition she was religious and very superstitious as well. She had been really shaken when Dickon had told his story of the man in the well. And now Daisy’s promised good fortune had made her very happy.

How unwise it was to make snap judgments about people’s characters. The only thing one could be certain of was that there were many more facets to their natures than to a well-cut diamond and because one understood their reactions to one situation it was no use thinking one really knew them.

It was dusk. I was about to go for my visit to Lord Eversleigh when I paused. There was a terrible commotion in the kitchens.

Dr. Cabel looked at Jessie, who was standing still, listening. Then one of the maids came running up.

“It’s May,” she said. “She’s seen something.”

“Seen what?” asked Jessie.

“We can’t get a word of sense out of her. She’s having hysterics at the kitchen table.”

Jessie looked at the doctor and he said: “I’d better see her.”

We went down through the screens to the kitchen. May, one of the housemaids, was sitting back in a chair staring ahead of her. The cook had a glass of brandy in her hand and was trying to force May to drink it.

“Now what is this?” said Dr. Cabel taking the brandy, which he put on the table.

“I see a ghost, sir,” said May, her teeth chattering.

“What is this nonsense?” The doctor spoke sharply.

“I see it, sir. Clear as I see you. He was standing there at the top of the stairs. I looked at him and he faded into nothing.”

“Now, now, May, tell us exactly what happened. It must have been one of the other servants you saw.”

“In his lordship’s hat and cloak.”

“His lordship’s!”

“Oh yes, they was his all right. I’ve seen him before … you know … before he was took so ill.”

“And he disappeared?”

“Well, that’s what ghosts do, sir.”

“It’s a bad sign,” said Daisy Button. “It’s death in the house. I felt it a long time. I reckon it’s his lordship. His spirit is already gone … and in its early form as yet … outside looking on. That’s how it goes. Mark my words, we shan’t have the dear gentleman with us much longer.”

“Stop that nonsense,” said Dr. Cabel. “What May saw was one of the servants … or she imagined she saw something. You’re all right, May. Now I’m going to give you something to drink and you’re to go to bed.”

“I’d be frightened, sir. I don’t want to see that again.”

“You saw nothing. It was a figment of your imagination.” He bent over. “Good heavens, have you been drinking?”

“I give her a glass of my sloe gin,” said Daisy Button. “But then we all had some.”

“It may well be that your sloe gin is more potent than you think. Mistress Button.”

“Well, you might have something there.”

The doctor smiled. “Distribute it in smaller portions in future, will you?”

“Well, my sloe’s always been took in the same quantities before, sir.”

“Each year’s brew won’t be exactly the same, will it?”

“That could be true, sir. You know what sloes is.”

“Shall we get May to her room and let the doctor give her something to make her sleep,” I said.

“Come along. May,” said Jessie.

They went up to the maid’s room.

I noticed how subdued Jessie was. She was really frightened and behaving rather unlike the Jessie I had come to expect.

Dickon was very interested when he heard of May’s experience. He was on some sort of acquaintanceship with several of the maids. I had seen his eyes rest speculatively on several of them. I imagined that he waylaid them in dark places and indulged in certain familiarities. I had seen the manner in which some of them looked at him. Dickon was the sort of person who only had to be in a place to change the nature of it.

He held forth a long time at dinner over May’s adventure.

“These girls are very superstitious,” he said. “I’ve no doubt May imagined the whole thing.”

“Yes,” said Jessie, “that’s all. She just saw a shadow or something … and thought up the rest.”

“She was very shaken,” I pointed out.

“Of course she would be,” said Dickon. “What did the poor girl see? I beg your pardon … what did she think she saw?”

“Some garbled story about a man in a cloak,” said Dr. Cabel.

“And a hat.”

“Evidently a visitor since he was hatted,” said Dickon.

“She said he was like Lord Eversleigh,” I said.

“Probably she saw him in a hat and cloak once,” put in the doctor.

“The cook adds fuel to the flames,” I remarked. “She says that the apparition was a sort of angel of death.”

“Interesting,” said Dickon. “Come to announce some disaster?”

“Daisy Button is full of tales—always has been,” said Jessie. “Thinks she’s rather clever, she does. If she wasn’t such a good cook …”

“Good cooks should be allowed their little foibles,” remarked Dickon. “Do tell me more of this angel of death.”

“She seems to imply,” I explained, “that it’s the spirit of someone who has departed taking on the guise of his earthly body.”

“It’s very complicated,” sighed Dickon. “I didn’t know that cook added supernatural knowledge to her culinary skills.”

The doctor said rather impatiently: “It’s all a lot of women’s nonsense. I think we’d do well to forget it.”

“You are certainly right, doctor,” agreed Dickon. “But is it not strange how interested we all are in unnatural phenomena, even those of us who should know better.”

“The girl has come to her senses. I gave her a draught and a good night’s sleep will do the rest. Now I hope we shall have no more of this nonsense.”

His hope was not fulfilled for that very night the ghost made another appearance.

This time it was to Jessie herself.

There was a wild scream and we all ran to see what had happened. Jessie was half fainting when I arrived on the scene. I had been outside for a breath of fresh air before retiring, for I had just had one of my brief visits to Uncle Carl.

Jessie was lying on the floor. She had fainted. With all the blood drained from her face so that the carmine stood out unnaturally she looked like a painted doll.

Dr. Cabel was kneeling beside her. “Give her air,” he was crying, for several of the servants were crowding round.

“What has happened?” I asked.

“Mistress Stirling has fainted,” the doctor announced. “She’ll be all right. It’s nothing much. The heat, I expect.”

It was not really very hot. It never was in the house behind those thick stone walls even at the height of summer.

Jessie was already opening her eyes. She screamed: “Where is he? I saw him.”

“All is well,” said Dr. Cabel. “You’re all right. You were overcome by the heat.”

“I saw … he was on the stairs. … Just as he used to look … before … before …”

“I think,” said Dr. Cabel, “we’ll get her to her bed. She needs to lie down.” He signed to one of the men servants and the man with the doctor got Jessie to her feet.

“Now,” said Dr. Cabel soothingly, “we’ll get you to bed. I will give you something to drink … it will help you to sleep.”

“It was terrible,” murmured Jessie.

“Never mind now,” said the doctor.

Dickon had appeared at the top of the stairs. He ran down, “What’s wrong?”

“Jessie has fainted.”

“Good heavens. Is she ill or something … ?”

Dr. Cabel silenced him with a look. Dickon’s eyes were round with wonder.

Then Dickon gently pushed the man servant to one side and himself took Jessie’s arm.

“Yes, to bed,” he said, “that’s the best place.”

“I saw him. …” Jessie was murmuring. “With my own eyes I saw him. … It was him … I could swear it.”

“You’ve been working too hard,” said the doctor.

“I never fainted before,” said Jessie.

“Come along … to your room.”

I followed the procession. In her room I noticed the crucifix hanging on the wall. A further sign of her religion. She lay on the bed. Her eyes were wide and frightened, though some color had returned to her face. It was clear that Jessie had had a very bad shock.

“Now,” said Dr. Cabel, “there’s nothing to do but rest, and when you’ve drunk what I shall bring you, you will sleep.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I said, “till the doctor comes back.”

Dickon remained in the room too. He had seated himself by Jessie’s bed and watched her intently.

“I saw it so clear,” she said. “It was him, all right. … Him like he used to be.”

“I can’t think what you saw,” I said, “but the light does play funny tricks.”

“There was hardly any light in the hall.”

“That’s why you thought you saw this … apparition. In daylight you would have seen there was nothing there.”

“I saw him. … What’s he doing? Why? Why?”

Dickon leaned toward the bed. He said: “Cook believes that somebody’s going to die and he’s come to warn us.”

“It’s him. … It’s Lordy,” she cried.

I said: “He’s very ill. I think Dr. Cabel is expecting him to die at any time.”

“The blacksmith said that it was someone who wanted a burial,” Jessie started to shiver.

“I wish the doctor would hurry with the sleeping draught or whatever it is.” I said.

Dickon took Jessie’s hand and held it firmly. “You mustn’t get so agitated. You won’t be able to look after everything there is to do, you know. Why you might be ill. You’ve got to take care of yourself, Jessie.”

“Yes,” she said smiling at him.

“Where would all this be … without you, Jessie?”

She nodded.

“So here is the doctor with his sleeping potion. Take it, Jessie, and rest. You’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll know how to cope with all this.”

She was silent. It seemed that Dickon had chosen the right words to comfort her.

She gulped down the liquid. She didn’t want me to leave her until she was asleep.

She had been very shaken and I realized that she was afraid to be alone in case the apparition returned.

Jessie quickly recovered from her fright and was her old self in a day or so. I was now wanting to go home. I found the house oppressive, and my visits to Uncle Carl seemed to me unnecessary. I made no progress with him and I could not believe my presence was very important to him.

I missed Lottie and Jean-Louis and was longing for the peace and normality of Clavering.

I had passed Enderby once or twice hoping for a glimpse of the Forsters, but I assumed they were still away and felt I could not call. Dr. Forster would, I supposed, not come there since his brother and sister-in-law were away; yet I continued to walk that way, drawn by memories.

Once I walked past Grasslands and saw Dickon’s horse tethered there. I hoped he was not going to cause any trouble to that very nice Andrew Mather. I should have liked to visit him again, but that of course would entail meeting Evalina and I had no great desire for that.

Often I would find Dickon’s eyes on me—maliciously, I thought. It occurred to me that he was involved in some plan and that it concerned me. If I caught his eyes he would smile at me in a rather amused, mischievous way but sometimes I thought I caught a glimpse of something there which was by no means lighthearted and gave me a twinge of alarm.

I had never liked him; I had never trusted him; and I knew he was quite unscrupulous.

I wondered what he was planning; what he talked of with Evalina. I was sure they discussed me together.

I thought of speaking to Dr. Cabel and telling him that I was thinking of returning home. Why not? I had been to Rosen, Stead and Rosen; they seemed perfectly satisfied with the state of affairs. There was the matter of the valuable statue. Could it be that Jessie was taking goods from the house as a sort of bulwark against the time when she would have to leave? I thought that was a possibility. But of course it was true that Uncle Carl had been very generous to her. The first time I had seen her she had been wearing quite a large amount of jewelry—presumably gifts from him, as she had worn them in his presence.

Perhaps, I thought, we should make an inventory of what was in the house. I might have asked Rosen that. But that would be tantamount to accusing Jessie. She might be affronted and leave; and if my uncle really was aware of what was going on that could upset him very much.

I must think clearly. But I was determined to make up my mind to go soon.

My steps had again led me to Enderby. I was still hoping that one of the Forsters would appear. The house looked silent. I turned away to the haunted patch. It looked quite normal in the light of day. I wondered someone didn’t mend the palings or have them taken away.

Absentmindedly I stepped over and walked on the grass. My mind went back to that evening at dusk when I stood on this spot and suddenly Gerard had arisen from the ground, as it were … as though he had stepped out of … a grave.

I shook myself. I had given up that nonsense of pretending that he was some long-dead gallant and that I had assumed a personality not my own. No … I had been revealed to myself. I had loved Gerard. Everything that had happened had been my desire. He had shown me my real self.

I could hear his voice saying: “I was looking for my fob. …”

And then suddenly I saw the glitter as the sunlight caught something lying there.

I immediately thought: It’s Gerard’s fob. And I ran forward.

But it was not a fob. What I was looking at was a crucifix which had been stuck into the earth.

I knelt down and touched it. It was firmly entrenched and it looked as though it had been put there not so very long ago because the grass had not grown round it.

How strange. I wondered who had put it there.

I stood there puzzled. Had it been there when Gerard and I had met here? It could hardly have been. Of course the grass could have hidden it. But there was very little grass growing just at that spot.

It was almost as though it marked a grave.

I stood up. I was beginning to feel very uneasy, and I had a great desire to get away. I felt I was walking rather blindly into something of which I was beginning to get a glimmer of understanding. I had a great desire to get away from this place.

I walked across the stretch of grass and stepped over the palings. I listened. I fancied that I heard a movement somewhere. It was just that uncanny feeling that I was being watched.

I started to run. It was not very far to Eversleigh, about fifteen minutes walk perhaps, but I always took the shortcut through the wood. It was scarcely a wood. Just a little stretch where the trees grew close together.

I made for it and as I entered wondered if I should have gone round by the road. It was foolish. The sight of that crucifix had unnerved me. I knew there was some meaning behind it.

Suddenly the realization came to me. I had been observed. I was now being followed. For what reason? I felt the goose-pimples rising on my skin. This was real fear. I heard a footstep behind me and started to run.

I was thankful that the trees were thinning and I would soon be in the open. I ran as fast as I could and when I had put some distance between myself and the last of the trees, I turned.

A man was emerging from the wood. This was my pursuer. Dickon!

He sauntered up to me.

“Hello, Zipporah,” he said.

I said breathlessly: “You’ve just come through the wood.”

He nodded, smiling at me, and I fancied there was an odd flicker in his eyes.

“Did you see anyone in there?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

I stammered: “I wondered. … People don’t often use that stretch of wood.”

“There might have been someone,” he said. “Are you going back to the house?”

I said I was.

“I’ll walk with you.” He fell in by my side. I was very much aware of him and I was still trembling a little from my scare. I refrained from mentioning my feelings to him. I thought: He was my pursuer. Why was he frightening me? Was it just his mischief?

Then I noticed there was something different about the swing of his coat. Dickon was fast becoming a man of fashion and perhaps this was why I noticed that his coat bulged a little. He was carrying something in an inner pocket.

A sudden gust of wind made his coat swing open, and because I was really wondering what he carried I happened to glance down at that moment.

It was a pistol.

I was really shaken. What was he doing with a pistol? And why did he not call to me in the wood? He must have been aware that I was running away. Yet he had emerged casually sauntering as though there was nothing unusual about chasing people in woods. I had noticed lately a change in him. There was a hard glitter in his eyes which might have indicated a certain pleasure, as though he were engaged in some activity which intrigued him. I had put this down to his renewed acquaintance with Evalina and perhaps involvements with some of the Eversleigh serving girls who might seem more attractive than those at Clavering. They would be different and I imagined Dickon would like variety in his seductions.

But I was unsure of him now. Amorous encounters were second nature to him. I had a fancy that he was involved in something other than those.

Why should he be carrying a pistol? To shoot … what? Rabbits? Birds? For what purpose except the lust to kill? He had no need of food. That was plentifully supplied by Jessie, and he was a man whose sports would be conducted indoors rather than out.

Where did he get the pistol? There was a gun room at Eversleigh, of course.

So disturbed was I that I went to find it. I was not quite sure where it was. Nobody had pointed it out to me but I had some idea.

I found it. It was a small room but there were guns of all sorts there. It was impossible for me to see if any were missing. But of course it was from this room that he would have taken the pistol. Or he might have brought it with him in case he needed it on the journey.

Perhaps then there was nothing unusual about his having a pistol in his possession. Perhaps I was trying to make something out of nothing. Quite clearly I was getting a little overwrought and should go back to Clavering.

When I was in my room there was a knock on the door and when I called “Come in” Jessie entered.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mistress Ransome,” she said, “but I have a message for you from Amos Carew. He says he’d be obliged if you would call on him tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be at the house between three and four and if that’s not convenient to you would you please name another time.”

“I can certainly see him tomorrow,” I said.

“That’s settled then,” she smiled.

I said: “I hope you’re feeling better now, and have got over that little scare.”

“I don’t know what got into me. It must have been a trick of the light … and that kitchen girl having said she saw something put it into my head. Well, I’m downright ashamed. I am that. It’s not like me, I can tell you.”

“We’re all surprised in ourselves sometimes,” I said.

She nodded. “I’ll get a message over to Amos,” she told me.

That night I was disturbed again. There was someone in the house who made nocturnal visits. I was wakened again and saw that it was two o’clock—the same time as before.

First the awareness that someone was below and then the creak of a door and the sound of stealthy footsteps.

It was either Dickon or Amos, I told myself. Their amorous adventures were really no concern of mine. I turned over and went to sleep.

The following afternoon I walked to Amos Carew’s house. It was the first time I had called there but I knew exactly where it was as Jethro had pointed it out to me very shortly after I had arrived on my first visit.

It was a pleasant house with a lawn in front and a porch in which pots of flowers were growing.

Before I had time to knock Amos Carew opened the door.

He took me into a sitting room which was comfortably furnished, though not large, and bade me be seated.

He said: “It was good of you to come, Mistress Ransome.”

“Not at all. I have been wondering what it is you want to see me about.”

He looked at me in rather an embarrassed fashion and said: “It’s not easy to explain.”

“I am sure that you will, though,” I said.

“It’s …er … things at the Court.”

“Oh yes?”

“They can’t go on the way they are. I mean his lordship is growing weaker … in spite of what the doctor says.”

“He seems to me to be in a very weak condition.”

“Well, what bothers me … is what is to happen if he was to go. I’m sorry to seem … hard like … but I was thinking of my position here. It bothers me a bit. A man has to think of his future.”

“I understand that.”

“Well, when his lordship goes this passes to you.”

“How can you be sure of that?”

“Oh, his lordship has explained it to Jessie. There was not much he kept from her … when he was well enough, that was. … I daresay she wonders too. It could be hard on her … and on me.”

“I understand. But I really think it is a matter which will have to be decided later. You see, it may be that my uncle has changed his mind. I don’t think we can make arrangements about something which has not come to pass.”

“Jessie says that he has left it all to you, and she would know. It was just that I had it in mind that if I could put a word in for myself to you

“If it happens as you say I am sure my husband and I would not want to turn good people away. I can’t make promises about something which is not mine. One never knows what will happen.”

He nodded gravely.

“I want to show you how well I keep the place … inside and out. I’ve done wonders with my bit of garden at the back. I even supply vegetables to the Court. … I was hoping you’d take a look at it.”

“I am absolutely sure that everything is in perfect order.”

“But you will look at it, won’t you?”

I said I would.

“Then I’ll show you the garden.”

We went through a passage to the garden and he led me out toward some fruit trees. I was struck by the quietness of all about me.

I said: “You appear to be very isolated here in spite of the fact that you are not far from the Court.”

He didn’t answer. There was a strange look in his eyes. The thought suddenly struck me that he had brought me here for a purpose other than to speak of his future, and an unaccountable cold fear took possession of me. This was the man who was Jessie’s lover, who had calculatedly brought her here to become Uncle Carl’s mistress, to fleece him of what she could. They must have planned it together. They were unscrupulous people. I had a great desire to say a hasty good-bye to him and go back to the Court as fast as I could and when I was there pack my bags and go home to Jean-Louis, to Lottie, to my mother and Sabrina.

He said: “Come and look at the trees. I’m going to get some good fruit there this year.”

His voice sounded different … strained in some way.

I hesitated. Something told me to get away.

And then suddenly I heard a noise. Someone was knocking on the door. Then I heard a familiar voice. Dickon’s! And he was coming towards us.

“I did knock. But the door was open. Oh … hello, Zipporah. Amos, I came over to talk to you.”

“I’m busy,” said Amos.

“Oh, all right. I’ll wait. Looking at the garden, are you? He’s very proud of his garden, Zipporah.”

I noticed the bulge in his coat. So he was still carrying the pistol.

“I wanted to ask Amos a few questions about the tenants,” he said.

“Then I will leave you two to talk,” I answered.

Dickon almost leered at me. “I’m not driving you away, I hope.”

“No, no,” I assured him. “I was on the point of leaving.”

Amos looked resigned and I wasn’t sure whether he was angry or relieved. I could imagine that Dickon might be becoming a nuisance to him.

As I walked back to the Court I thought how often Dickon seemed to be where I was. I could almost believe he was following me. However, on this occasion I had been quite pleased to see him. I was really quite alarmed in that garden alone with Amos Carew. There seemed to be no logical reason why I should have been. I think the fact was that the situation here was beginning to upset me more than I had believed possible.

I really wanted to get away. … back to normality. There was nothing else I could do here.

When I came into the hall Jessie was there. She started when she saw me and turned a shade paler.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yes. … Did you see Amos?”

“Yes, I saw him.”

“And … was everything all right?”

I raised my eyebrows. It was not the first time I had resented her interrogations and felt an irresistible urge to remind her of her position.

“We had our talk,” I said and walked past her.

I could feel her staring after me.

I went to my room thinking about Amos Carew. It was natural that he should be worried about his position, for it was quite clear that Uncle Carl could not live much longer in the state he was in. I think I had allowed myself to grow too fanciful. I was as bad as Jessie with her ghost.

I had one or two sewing jobs to do. I could have given them to one of the maids but preferred to do them myself. There was a tear in my skirt where I had caught it on a bramble—not much but it should be done at once—and a button was half off my dressing gown and the stitches in a petticoat had come undone. I would do them this afternoon. I had no sewing material and I knew that the maids went to Jessie’s room to get them.

I knocked at the door. There was no answer so I went in. My eyes went at once to the blank space on the wall. That was where the crucifix had hung. It was no longer there. Of course it wasn’t. It was in the haunted patch and Jessie was the one who had put it there.

I forgot all about the sewing materials and went back to my room.

What did this mean? I asked myself. Why should she have taken the crucifix from her wall to put in the wasteland?

It meant that there was a grave there in the wasteland. Whose? Wild thoughts chased each other through my brain. A possibility had occurred to me.

I had to find the answer.

One thing was becoming certain: I was in the midst of intrigue and what was shown to me was not the true state of affairs.

I wished there was someone whose help I could ask. I wished the Forsters were there, or that calm practical-looking doctor. Could I go to him? No! The people to whom I should go were Rosen, Stead and Rosen. Mr. Rosen already knew of the rather unconventional ménage at Eversleigh Court.

What could I say? The housekeeper has put her crucifix in the wasteland … ?

I would have to have more tangible evidence than that.

I must think about this clearly, reason it out. I must know the best thing to do. I went over everything that had happened. The strangeness of the atmosphere in this house. But I had felt that on my very first visit.

It would soon be suppertime and I must face them all; after that there would be my visit to the sick room. I must be watchful. I must not be so easily gullible. I must realize that I was here with scheming, unscrupulous people. And what part was Dickon playing in all this? He was devious and I was an enemy. I really must discover all I could and then go to Mr. Rosen.

I suppose I had been right about the crucifix. That might be some sort of clue. We would go the wasteland and we would dig up and discover why Jessie behaved as though a grave was there.

I had been right about the crucifix, hadn’t I? I hadn’t imagined it.

That was absurd. I had seen clearly that space on the wall with the nail protruding where the crucifix had hung, but I had to make sure. I had to look again. I was going to creep along to Jessie’s room when she was not there, open the door and take a quick look.

Opportunity came about half an hour before supper. It was safe then because Jessie was always in the kitchen at that time supervising the meal. That was something which was too important to be left entirely to others.

I was ready. I heard her go downstairs and slipped up to her room. Quickly, silently I opened the door.

I stared. The crucifix was in its place on the wall.

I could not believe it. I was sure earlier that day it had not been there.

Could I trust myself? Was my imagination betraying me?

I felt very alarmed.

Tomorrow, I promised myself, I will go to the wasteland. If the crucifix is there then it was not Jessie’s and I must have imagined I saw that blank wall. How could I? I was a practical woman of common sense, or so I had always believed.

What was happening to me in this strange place? Why did I fear I was being followed in the woods? Why did I see something sinister in Dickon because he happened to be where I was a great deal lately? Why should I feel this increasing menace just because he carried a pistol with him?

It was night—restless, uneasy night. I had got through the evening tolerably well. Although Dr. Cabel did say at supper: “You are very thoughtful this evening. Mistress Ransome.”

I said I was feeling a little tired and would retire early.

I had not seen Uncle Carl that evening. Dr. Cabel had said he was no worse but just very very tired and he was sleeping deeply so it was not wise to waken him even to see me.

“It must be something in the air,” he said. “You are both tired today. It’s the weather. It can have that effect.”

I had made my excuse to retire early and I did so.

But not to sleep. I had made up my mind that the next day I was going to see Mr. Rosen. There was one thing I wanted to do first and that was ascertain that the crucifix was no longer on the wasteland. Whether it was or not I should go straightaway to Mr. Rosen.

I would ask what I should do before going home, for I was determined to go home soon.

I was still wide awake at half past one when I heard movements similar to those which I had heard before. I got out of bed and went to the window and waited. It was not long before a figure emerged from the house. It was a man in a long cloak who was certainly not Amos or Dickon. Then who?

I watched him walk across the lawn. Then an idea came to me. I put on my dressing gown and opening my door stood for a second or so listening. Then I went down the short staircase to the corridor in which was Uncle Carl’s room.

I sped along to it. I turned the handle and went in. There was enough moonlight to show me the furniture, the fourposter bed … with the curtains half drawn as they always had been.

I went to the bed. I think I had half expected what I saw. The bed was empty.

Events suddenly slipped into place like a jigsaw puzzle.

My earlier suspicions were proved to be founded in truth. The man in the bed had not been my uncle.

I looked round the room. I opened one of the cupboards. Clothes were hanging there. There was a shelf on which were various pots and pads and brushes … such as I imagined were used by actors.

Actors! They had been playing a drama … comedy … a farce … whatever, it was for my benefit.

They were actors … all of them … the doctor, the man in the bed … and Jessie knew it. She was one of them.

I had the proof I needed now. I could go along to Mr. Rosen tomorrow with the evidence I had gathered.

In another cupboard were playing cards. I smiled grimly. That was how they whiled away the time when they were not coaching this man for the part of Lord Eversleigh, while they were waiting for the moment when they would play their little scene for me.

They were ingenious people and they would be desperate. They must not know that I had uncovered their little plot before I had seen Mr. Rosen.

Shortly the bogus Lord Eversleigh would be returning. I imagined he took exercise at night for clearly he could not go out during the day.

I was aware that if anyone found me here I should be in acute danger. If they were bold enough to work out such a devious plan how far would they carry it?

In sudden panic I went swiftly to the door. I looked out into the corridor. All was quiet.

I crossed the corridor to the window and because of the heavy curtains I believed I could conceal myself there.

I went over and tried it. Yes. I could satisfy myself that no part of me was visible. I would now await the return of the actor who had played Uncle Carl in the piece.

I was cold and cramped through having to conceal myself, but I was rewarded.

Soon after two o’clock there was the familiar creak of the door followed by the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs.

I peeped out and saw him open the door of the room and disappear within.

I crept back to my room.

This is a gigantic fraud, I thought. And what happened to Uncle Carl? I was certain now that he was dead and buried in the haunted patch.

I knew the spot. It was where the crucifix had been.

My mind was working so fast that I almost played with the idea of getting a spade and digging up that grave.

That would be unwise. I could not do it on my own. I must get help.

How I wished there was someone who could advise me.

I played with the idea of calling in Dr. Forster. Could I bring him in? I did not know why I thought so much about him. It must be his connection with Enderby and the fact that I had first seen him in that spot where I had found Gerard.

No. Mr. Rosen was the one, although I could not imagine what his reaction would be to the bizarre story I should have to tell him.

It was foolish to expect to sleep. I lay in bed impatiently waiting for the morning to come.

I was out of bed at dawn and as I reached for my dressing gown I saw that the button which I had meant to sew on yesterday had come off.

A horrible thought struck me. Suppose I had dropped it in what was ironically called the “sick room”? They would know I had been there. Then I should certainly be in danger.

Everything must appear as normal. I went down to breakfast. Dickon was there. He smiled at me almost patronizingly, I thought, and it occurred to me that had he been different, if I could have trusted him, I might have confided in him.

I would not dream of doing that. Sometimes the thought came to me that he was involved with it all, but I did not see for what purpose, and Dickon would always have to have a purpose, one which worked to his advantage.

“You’re in a hurry this morning,” he said.

“No.”

“And you seem preoccupied.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Thinking of the adventures of the day to come, I’ll swear.”

It was almost as though he knew.

“I don’t suppose they will be as exciting as yours.”

He laughed. “Zipporah,” he said, “I wish sometimes that you liked me a little. It worries your mother and mine that you’re not more fond of me.”

“If esteem is wanted it has to be earned.”

“I know,” he said mockingly. “Alas.”

I stood up.

“So soon,” he said. “You’ve eaten scarcely anything.”

“I’ve had enough.”

“I’ll see you later.”

I did not answer and went out.

I should need my horse because I was going into the town to see Mr. Rosen. First, though, I was going to ride out to the haunted patch to see if the cross was there.

I felt better now that I was taking action. I began to piece everything together. My uncle had died. … Would someone have helped him to die? I wondered what advantage that would have brought, for Jessie had seen that he was more use to her alive than dead. That was why she had brought in her fellow actors. … They knew how to play their parts. … What was their motive? To enjoy a comfortable life at Eversleigh and take what they could. I thought of the statue at Grasslands.

Mr. Rosen would take charge and deal with everything.

I had reached the haunted patch. I slipped off my horse and tethered him to a bush. This was necessary as I couldn’t see from the path whether the cross was there or not. I stepped over the palings and walked forward. I stared down at the disturbed earth. The cross had been taken away.

Now I was certain. Jessie had placed it there because she had been truly scared by the ghost. Afterward she must have felt she had been foolish to do so and had taken it away.

I must get to Mr. Rosen at once.

I mounted my horse. How silent it was. It was really rather lonely country between Enderby and Eversleigh. There was the short stretch where the trees grew close together and I slowed down to walk my horse through them.

I heard a sudden movement. I wasn’t sure what it was … perhaps the displacement of a stone … but it startled me and I felt myself shiver with apprehension for I was certain that I was not alone among the trees. A sensation of horror seemed to crawl over me then. Instinctively I knew that I was in danger. I hesitated whether to ride on or dash back toward Enderby. I had no time to do either for a man was coming towards me. He carried a gun which was pointing at me. I could see eyes glittering through the highwayman’s mask, and his cocked hat was drawn down over his face.

I was staring into the muzzle of a gun.

I stammered: “I have very little money with me.”

He did not speak; he raised the gun and I knew I was looking into the face of death. He did not want my money; he wanted my life.

This was the end.

I heard the report. I was slipping from my horse. There was a buzzing in my ears and I saw blood spattered on the trees.

The dizziness was passing. I was not dead then.

A body was lying on the grass. Someone else had appeared. This can’t be real, I thought. Because it was Dickon standing there with the pistol in his hand.

He was calling to me. “You’re all right. I got him … just in time. I’ve shot my first man. It was you … or him, Zipporah.”

“You …” I began.

He knelt down beside the figure on the grass. “Dead,” he said. “Right through the heart. Good shot. And in the nick of time.”

“Who … ? What … ?”

He said: “Didn’t you see what was going on? No … not till what might have been too late. It was so clear to me. … But let’s go. There’s a lot of talking to be done.”

So Dickon had saved my life.

The first thing we did was ride into the town to Rosen, Stead and Rosen. Mr. Rosen senior sat very still as he listened to the story Dickon had to unfold.

“I shot Amos Carew,” he said. “He was dressed as a highwayman … and it was either him or Zipporah.”

Mr. Rosen raised his eyebrows and they went higher and higher as he listened. “It was self-defense,” he said. “Quite understandable. No charges can be brought.”

“I knew something was wrong from the moment I arrived,” said Dickon. “All that elaborate preparation to see the old man! When I went in they were in a state of wild apprehension. So I started to look about me. I guessed that the housekeeper was on to too good a thing to want it to end and therefore she had pretended Lord Eversleigh was not dead and brought in her own man to play the part.”

“Very devious,” said Mr. Rosen.

“All rather obvious. The housekeeper was no ordinary one. She was a special friend of Lord Eversleigh.”

“I had heard of it.” said Mr. Rosen.

“Then I discovered that valuable pieces were being taken from the house. I think that was the main business. They wanted the housekeeper to stay there until they had successfully disposed of certain objects, which they could only do gradually, and make a fortune for themselves.”

“You say they …”

“Jessie, the manager of the estate who was her lover and the two men who took the part of doctor and invalid.”

“Quite a little party of them.”

“All necessary to the plot. I knew that Zipporah was gradually stumbling on the truth—though it took her a long time—and they knew it. She was close. I think Carew was the main mover in the affair. He was the desperate one. I daresay the housekeeper just wanted to go on living in comfort for a while. But she was his mistress and did what he said. Well, they were realizing that Zipporah was hot on their trail, but they didn’t think of me. I had a reputation for being … not very serious and I lived up to it. It helped me. I discovered certain things from the housekeeper’s daughter. She was not as discreet as they would have liked her to be. There’s quite a bit of stuff from Eversleigh in Amos Carew’s house. I discovered it when I called on him. I think they may have had difficulty in disposing of it. I don’t know what their future plans are … but they must have realized they couldn’t go on like that forever. I daresay when they realized the value of some of the stuff they had stolen they wanted to carry on and get more. Zipporah was getting too close so they were taking the play into its final act. They were going to get rid of her. I realized this. My mother and hers had sent me here to look after her. I was determined to do that.”

“It would seem,” said Mr. Rosen, “that she owes her life to you.”

Dickon smiled at me maliciously. “I rather think she does. I saved it twice. Carew was going to kill her when she called at his house. I don’t know where. I suppose he was hoping to make us believe that a highwayman had shot her. He would have staged something, I don’t doubt. They were very good with their plots … as long as people didn’t look too deeply into them. Well, I was there and saved her … just as I did in the wood. I was ready … waiting. I heard them talking this morning. They knew she had been into the room and that there could be no delay. They said something about a button.”

“Yes,” I said. “I went into the sick room last night. There was no one there. The invalid was taking a stroll in the gardens. The button came off my dressing gown.”

Mr. Rosen cleared his throat. “It is an extraordinary story you have told me. What we shall have to do is to find Lord Eversleigh’s body. If it was murder …” He lifted his shoulders.

“I don’t think Jessie would have allowed that,” I said. “No … it was just deceit … not murder, I’m sure.”

“This woman is quite unscrupulous as well as immoral,” said Mr. Rosen. “You did right to come straight here. Now … we must see what can be done.”

They found Uncle Carl’s body buried in the spot where Jessie had placed the cross. It was in the chest which Dickon had noticed was missing from the winter parlor. It was a simple plot they had conceived and they might have carried on with it until they had disposed of most of the valuables at Eversleigh but for the fact that Jethro had sent me that message that all was not well.

The doctors were satisfied that Uncle Carl had died from natural causes and so this was not a case of murder. It was true it might have been if Amos Carew had succeeded with his plan to be rid of me, and it was fortunate for me that Dickon had foiled that. Amos Carew had been avid for wealth and was determined to have some of Uncle Carl’s. That was why he had brought Jessie to Eversleigh to enslave poor Uncle Carl, which she had done expertly. She might be a harpy but she was no murderess and I gathered she had become increasingly frightened when she saw that she was getting drawn into an intrigue such as Amos Carew had built up when she had believed that all she had to do was cajole an old man into pampering her.

Jessie had been used to getting what she could from her admirers; it was her profession; but she had never before been engaged in criminal intrigue.

She had been frightened by the ghost and I discovered who the ghost had been. Dickon, of course, who had found some of Uncle Carl’s clothes and dressed up in them. He had thought it might be useful, he said modestly; and indeed it had for it had sent Jessie to mark the grave with her crucifix.

Amos was dead. Jessie had decamped with her two actor friends—the bogus Dr. Cabel and Lord Eversleigh. We recovered many of the valuables which were in Carew’s house and some which Evalina gave up, protesting that she had been under the impression that they had been given to her mother.

Rosen, Stead and Rosen took over the management of everything; Uncle Carl was given decent burial in the Eversleigh mausoleum and I became the new owner of Eversleigh.

Dickon and I returned to Clavering. Dickon was very pleased with himself. It was agreed unanimously that he was a hero. True, he had killed a man but the slaying of highwaymen was regarded as a service to humanity. Moreover, he had been very astute—more so than I had been—and his prompt action had foiled the criminals as well as saved my life.

When we arrived home my mother and Sabrina were in a state of great jubilation. They had to hear that story of our adventures over and over and over again.

“It is an extraordinary story,” said my mother.

“What would have happened but for Dickon!” cried Sabrina.

“We are so proud of you, Dickon my dear,” they said in unison.

Dickon basked in their admiration, watching me with that quizzical look in his eye.

“You’ll have to like me now, Zipporah,” he said. “You must never forget I saved your life.”

“I sometimes wonder why you went to such lengths to do so.”

“Shall I tell you,” he said, coming near to me and whispering. “If you had died, heaven knew who would have got Eversleigh. He wouldn’t have left it to Sabrina because then it would come to me … son of a damned Jacobite. Your mother, no … because she might have left it to me, too. Who then? Some remote connection of the family perhaps. You had to have Eversleigh to keep it in this branch of the family … and when you have it I shall have Clavering. You see, that makes it all so neat. There was another reason.”

“What was that?”

“You won’t believe me but I do rather like you, Zipporah. You’re not quite what you seem … are you? I like it … yes, I do.”

I looked at him steadily, his lips turned up at the corners mockingly.

I knew he was telling me that he knew about my love affair with Gerard.

I ought to have been grateful to him—but I couldn’t be. I disliked him as much as ever.