The Judas kiss

Strangers at the Grange

From that time there was change.

Francine could no longer cling to the refuge of our room and must appear at meals. Our grandfather welcomed her with the faintest glow of warmth in his eyes. Cousin Arthur, though restrained, was clearly pleased to see her back. As for Aunt Grace, she still wore that bemused look which had settled on her since Charles Daventry had carried Francine into the hall and I noticed that she wore a rather pretty lace collar on her dress.

The tension was rising and it was most noticeable in our grandfather, who had become almost benign. He was as near affectionate towards Francine as he could possibly be. He came upon her once in the gardens and said he would walk with her and she told me afterwards that he talked all the time about the estate, how vast it was, how profitable and how it had been Ewell land for centuries. One morning he said he wished her to ride with him to see some of the tenants and they went off in his carriage, Cousin Arthur accompanying them; they took wine at the house of Mr. Anderson the agent who, said Francine, was ominously polite to her. "In fact," she said, "the situation is becoming more ominous every day. Soon I shall be presented with the royal command. What am I going to do, Pippa?"

I had no suggestion to offer, though we had discussed the matter endlessly. Francine was making up her mind that there was only one thing to do and that was run away. That was an easy answer, but the great problem was: Where to?

Our grandmother sensed the growing tension, of which she seemed more aware than sighted people. "Something will turn up, my dear," she said. "Be true to yourself."

Daisy burst into our room one day. She no longer behaved as a servant with us. We were like conspirators. Daisy was no respecter of persons; she was impetuous, affectionate and good-natured. She was resourceful too. Continually in trouble with the housekeeper, Mrs. Greaves, and threatened with dismissal, she was never downcast.

"What is to be, will be," she said with feeling. "And something would always turn up," she added as our grandmother had. She was full of wise sayings and they were all optimistic. "Wait and see. There's something round the corner. The Good Lord will take care of you." I did point out to her once that the only time she mentioned the Good Lord was in his capacity to take care of wayward sinners. "He won't mind," she retorted. "Hell say it's only that Daise."

She was in a state of great excitement. "Hans is back," she told us.

"Hans of the straying hands," asked Francine.

"Oh, he's all that ... worse than he ever was, if you ask me. Is he glad to see me!"

"Tom won't be pleased," I said.

"Oh Tom's got nothing to complain of, I promise you."

"Don't promise us, promise him," laughed Francine. And we were all laughing together. We were glad to forget the shadow looming over us, if only temporarily.

"There'll be grand doings up there, Hans says. This Baron's coming. He's ever so important. He's of their branch of the family. The others, of course, are against it."

"What are you talking about, Daisy?" demanded Francine.

"Well, Hans talks a bit about it, you know."

"Don't become involved in Germanic politics, Daisy," said Francine with mock seriousness. "I hear they are very involved."

"Hans says he'll show us over the house. I told him you'd like to see it. That'll be before they arrive. It'll have to be soon. They're due any day."

"It's nice to be able to send out our agents," said Francine.

"You get away with you," retorted Daisy.

A few days later she told us we could go that afternoon because the family was due to arrive the next day. An air of excitement prevailed throughout the morning. I don't know how we got through our lessons without Miss Elton's suspecting that something was afoot. It was necessary to slip out quietly and we met Daisy, as we had arranged, at her mother's cottage.

"We'll have to go round by the stables," she told us. "Hans says most of the servants will be taking a nap at this time. They do, you know." Daisy clicked her tongue. "Foreigners!" she added.

"Some people do here, you know," said Francine, who could never resist stating a truth.

"Well, they do regular. And Hans says it's safe. He says even if some of them's about, it don't matter. They know who you are, and they'll like to see you there. Hans says that Miss France is schon ... or something like that. When I said you wanted to see the house he kissed his hand and threw it out, just as though he meant it for you. He's a one, he is. Are you ready?"

Daisy, like Francine, always liked to add a touch of drama to a situation, and I thought Daisy's attitude to life was just what Francine needed at this time and I was grateful to her.

When we reached the stables at Granter's Grange, Hans was waiting for us. He clicked his heels and bowed from the waist and it was obvious from the way he looked at Francine that he admired her. When she addressed him in German he was delighted. He was very fair, almost white-haired, and his eyes had a startled look because his eyebrows and lashes were so fair they were scarcely perceptible. His skin was fresh, his teeth good and his smile merry.

"The Baron will be coming," he said. "It's a very important visit."

Daisy insisted that this should be translated for her benefit and Francine asked how long the Baron would stay.

Hans lifted his shoulders. "It is not known," he answered. "So much depends ..." he said in English with a strong foreign accent. "We are not sure. There has been ..."

"Not another of them coops?" suggested Daisy.

"Oh ... a coup ... yes. You could say."

"They're always having them," said Daisy, who was enjoying her role.

"Come," went on Hans. We followed and he led the way through a side door. We were in a dark passage and followed him into a large kitchen with tiled floor and benches round two sides, under which were arches in which stood baskets containing vegetables and food of various kinds-all strange to us. On a chair was a fat man fast asleep.

Hans held his hands to his lips and we tiptoed through.

We were in a lofty and beautifully panelled hall. There was an enormous fireplace at one end with seats on either side, and I noticed very fine linenfold around it. In the centre of the hall was a massive oak table on which stood a candelabrum. There were several wooden seats against the wall and on these walls weapons which must have been used by our ancestors, since this was the home of our grandmother and it had obviously been sold furnished to the foreigners. "The great hall," announced Hans.

"It's a lovely old house," remarked Francine. "Very different from Greystone Manor. Do you feel it, Pippa? There isn't that air of gloom."

"It's our dark furniture," I said.

"It's our grandfather," added Francine.

"There is the staircase," Hans went on. "There are steps down to the chapel. We do not use that. So we will go up. Here is the dining salon."

It was a beautiful room with three large leaded windows. On the big table stood a candelabrum similar to that in the hall; there were tapestries on the walls in blues and cream colours and they matched the tapestry on the chairs.

"It's beautiful," breathed Francine.

"I can understand our grandfather's wanting to buy it," I murmured.

"I'm glad he didn't," said Francine vehemently. "He would have made it as gloomy as the Manor. Now it's a wonderful house. Do you sense it, Pippa? Something in the air?"

Dear Francine, she was really very worried. She was looking for some miracle and she was getting so depressed that she was looking in the most unlikely places.

We mounted some more stairs. "It is here that they come to drink the wine."

"It's where the ladies retire after dinner," said Francine, "when they leave the men at the table with their port."

There were stairs leading out of an archway and we were in a corridor. We went along this, past several doors. Hans lifted a finger to warn us to be quiet. Daisy giggled softly and I wanted to do the same. The fact that we were trespassing could only add to the excitement. I was longing to tell my grandmother that we had seen her old home.

We mounted more steps to the solarium, which was not unlike the one at Greystone. There were windows on each side and my imagination peopled it with glamorous men and women in splendid clothes talking excitedly about what was happening in their country. In the solarium was a hole in the wall, and so discreetly did it merge into the stone that I should not have known it was there if Hans had not pointed it out to us.

"From it you can look down into the hall," he explained. "On the other side is another. You can look down onto the chapel. Very good idea. You can see who comes... ."

"How fascinating!" cried Francine. "Do you remember, our grandmother talked of the Peeps. That's what she called them. She said they sometimes did not go down to the chapel service but watched from the solarium."

Hans was suddenly alert. He stood very still, his head on one side, and the colour slowly drained away from his face.

"What's wrong?" asked Daisy.

"I can hear carriage wheels. Oh, no—no. This must be—"

He ran swiftly to the window and putting his hands to his head looked as though he were about to tear out his hair.

"Oh, what shall we do? They have come. It is too soon. It should be tomorrow. What shall I do with you?"

"Don't worry about us," said Daisy.

"I must go," cried Hans in desperation. "I must be there. The whole staff is assembling. I must not be missing—"

"What should we do?" asked Francine.

"You stay... . You hide... ." He looked about him. "See those curtains? Hide behind them if anyone comes. I will get you out as soon as I can. I will free you. But now ... I must go."

"You go," said Daisy soothingly. "We'll be all right. Leave it to us."

Hans nodded and stumbled out of the room.

Daisy was shaking with laughter. "Well, here's a nice kettle of fish!" she said.

"What will they think of us?" said Francine. "We've no right to be here. We shouldn't have come."

"No use crying over spilt milk, Miss France. No good shutting the stable door when the horse is stolen. Hans will get us out. He's clever, Hans is."

The house, which had been quiet before, was now alive with the sound of the bustle of important arrivals. Daisy tiptoed to the Peep and beckoned to us.

The hall was full of people. The fat cook whom we had seen slumbering in the kitchen now wore a splendid white coat and a tall white hat and gloves. He was standing at the head of a line and opposite him was a woman of very proud bearing whose bodice sparkled with black jet.

The door opened and a magnificently attired man came in and shouted something. Then the personages arrived. There were a man and a woman, and the servants who had formed into lines bowed so low that I thought they were going to knock their heads together. The recipients of all this homage were dressed in travelling clothes; with them was a tall, youngish man with very fair hair. Others were coming in—about twenty in all, and among them were a girl and a boy.

The servants began to move away, scuttling in all directions while the arrivals were making their way to the staircase.

"We have to look out now," said Daisy. "We'd better hide behind these curtains. Hans will know where to look for us when he comes."

"They won't come here," I said. "They'll go to their rooms to wash off the stains of travel."

"They might," said Francine. "Come on, let's hide ourselves."

There were sounds of running footsteps on the stairs and a babble of voices. We had hidden ourselves just in time when the door of the solarium was opened. I felt my heart beating wildly as I visualized the outcome of exposure. I imagined our being sent back to the Manor while complaints were made to our grandfather. That we should be in great trouble, I knew.

A girl came into the room. She appeared to be about my age. She was small with blond hair worn in two neat plaits reaching to her waist. She had very pale skin and her light blue eyes were closely set. She stood for a moment looking round while we all held our breath asking ourselves if we were properly hidden. She tiptoed forward and stood still as though listening. Then she said in German, "Who's there?"

I felt sick with shame and horror. Then she said in heavily accented English. "Who is hiding? I know you are there. I see a foot under the curtain."

It was Francine who stepped out. She knew exposure was imminent anyway.

"Who are you?" asked the girl.

"I am Francine Ewell of Greystone Manor," said Francine.

"You are visiting us?"

"Yes," answered Francine.

"And there are others?"

Daisy and I came out then. The girl's eyes rested on me, I supposed because we were of the same age.

"You visit?" she said looking at me.

I decided that the best thing was to tell the truth. "We were being shown over the house," I said. "We were interested because it was our grandmother's old home."

"You know my father ... my mother ..."

"No," I said.

Francine cut in then. "I have no doubt we shall if they are staying long in the neighbourhood. We are from Greystone Manor. Perhaps we should go now."

"Wait," said the girl. She ran to the door. "Mutti," she called.

A woman had come into the room. She was stately and stood looking at us in astonishment. Now we knew we were truly caught.

Francine stepped forward and said in fair German and with dignity, "You must forgive us. We have been guilty of an indiscretion. We were eager to see the house because it was once our grandmother's home and she often talks of it. We did not know that you would be returning and we thought it would be a good opportunity to look over it today... ." She trailed off. It was a limp excuse and the woman continued to look at her very curiously.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Francine Ewell. I live at Greystone Manor with my grandfather. This is my sister Philippa and Daisy our maid."

The woman nodded. Then she smiled slowly. She kept her eyes on Francine who, I must say, looked particularly lovely with the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes which the adventure had given her.

The woman said, "We have just arrived. It was good of you to call. You must drink a glass of wine with me."

Daisy had stepped back. I think she was quite speechless with admiration for Francine's skill in extricating us from a delicate situation.

"Come with me," said the woman. "And you—you are?"

"Daisy," said Daisy, for once overawed.

"I shall send-"

At that moment Hans appeared. He was intensely nervous and when he saw who was there he looked as though he was uncertain whether to turn and run or break out into incoherent explanations.

"We have visitors, Hans," said the woman in German which both Francine and I could understand perfectly. "Take ... Daisy to the kitchen and give her some wine. And send up more wine to the Weinzimmer."

Hans certainly looked astonished. Daisy went over to him and I was sure she gave him one of her winks, though I couldn't see her. She went off with him, and Francine and I followed our hostess down the stairs to the smaller room through which we had recently passed.

"Please to sit," commanded our hostess. "Now tell me. You are from Greystone Manor. It is the Big House here. Bigger than this one. We are just the Grange, eh? It is good of you to call."

Francine said it was hardly a call. It was a piece of impertinence.

"Impertinence?" she cried. "What is this impertinence? An English custom?"

Francine laughed in her infectious way and our hostess was soon joining in.

"You see," Francine explained, "we were very curious."

The woman listened intently as the wine came and with it the girl who had first discovered us.

"Tatiana, what is it you wish?" asked the woman.

The girl said in voluble German that she wished to see the visitors and the woman, whom we presumed to be her mother, chided her. "It is not polite to speak in a language other than that of our guests. You have your lessons in English. Come, you must speak in that language."

Francine said, "We have some German. We learned to speak it when we were with our parents. And now we have a governess who is half German and speaks the language with us."

"Ah, that is very good. Language can be a problem. Now they tell me this room was known as the Punch Room. I said, 'What is this punch?' and they tell me it is a drink—a kind of wine. Then I say, 'This shall be the Weinzimmer ... so here we drink our wine with our guests."

Tatiana sat down and watched us intently. During the conversation our hostess told us that she had had a Russian mother and that her daughter had been named for her. She was the Grafin von Bindorf and she and the Graf with their family would be staying here for a while.

It was an extraordinary half hour. Here we were being entertained by the Grafin von Bindorf, sipping the wine which had been brought to us and being treated like hon­oured guests instead of interlopers. She asked a great many questions about us and we told her how, when our father had died, we had come to Greystone Manor to be with our grandparents. Tatiana asked a few questions, mostly concerning me, and as Francine was talking freely with the Grafin, I saw no reason why I should not do the same with Tatiana.

At length Francine said we should go, and the Grafin replied that we must call again. I could see Francine wanted to invite her to Greystone Manor but restrained herself from that folly in time.

We were accompanied to the door where we were joined by Daisy. We were all excited and still marvelling, and talked incoherently all the way home. Daisy said that Hans was amazed at the way it had turned out and he was grateful to us for keeping him out of it.

Francine thought the Grafin charming. She was dismayed at the prospect of her calling at the Manor.

"It makes you realize," she said, "What restricted lives we lead. Is it going to be like that forever?"

I saw by the light in her eyes that she was determined that it should not be.

We did not sleep that night but lay awake talking about the adventure, and Francine came to the conclusion that we might let a week pass and then call again.

Daisy was in a state of great excitement. She and Hans were very friendly again and Tom of the stables was green with jealousy. Daisy was delighted to be the object of so much desire.

Francine's seventeenth birthday was in two weeks' time and as we sat at dinner the night after our adventure our grandfather commented on the fact, and added that he thought it was an occasion which we should celebrate. Aunt Grace nervously fingered her collar and tried to simulate excited interest. She knew all too well what the purpose of this entertainment would be, and being herself a victim of our grandfather's despotic orders she feared for Francine.

Francine said afterwards, "You know what he will do at the party. He will announce the engagement."

I nodded gloomily and waited for some inspiration.

"I'm going to call on the Grafin," said Francine. "We'll go this afternoon."

"It will be fun," I replied. "But how is that going to help?"

"I don't know," she replied, but there was speculation in her eyes as though she had some scheme in mind.

Boldly we went through the gates; we pulled the bell and heard it clanging through the house. A servant in colourful livery opened the door and we stepped into the hall.

"We have come to call on the Grafin in response to her invitation," said Francine importantly in German.

The man replied, "The Grafin is not at home."

"Oh?"

"What about the Lady Tatiana?" I said with sudden inspiration. She had been interested in us, so perhaps she would receive us.

The servant shook his head. It seemed that she was not at home either. So there was nothing to be done but retire crestfallen. The door shut on us and just as we were turning away a man on horseback rode up. He leaped down, looked at us and bowed. He called out and a groom came running to take his horse.

"You look ... lost," he said, his eyes on Francine. "Perhaps I can help."

He spoke good English with only the faintest trace of a foreign accent. Francine had brightened considerably. He was extremely handsome, tall, blond and in his early twenties I imagined, with grey eyes and a ready smile.

"We had come to see the Grafin," Francine explained. "She did ask us to call ... and now we find that she is not at home."

"She will be here later today, I believe. I wonder if it would be acceptable for me to take her place? Come, let me offer you tea ... is that not what you would take at this hour?"

Francine's cheeks were touched with the delicate rose colour which was so becoming and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. "That would be most kind," she said.

"Come, then." He pulled the bell and the manservant opened the door. "We have guests," he added.

The servant showed no surprise to see us back again and the young man gave orders in German for tea to be served.

Then he ushered us into the room in which we had taken wine on the previous occasion and bade us sit down.

"You must be related to the Grafin," said Francine.

"No—no. We are not related. Tell me about yourselves."

Francine explained that we lived at Greystone Manor and how we had met the Grafin. "She did say we might call again," she insisted again.

"She would hope for that. She will be desolate to have missed you. That is unfortunate for her—but fortunate for me."

"You are very gallant," said Francine with a hint of coquetry.

"Who could be aught else in the presence of such beauty?" he answered.

Francine, as always, blossomed under admiration, even though she had always had a great deal of it, and she was soon chatting away telling him about our life on the island and at Greystone Manor, to which he listened very attentively.

"I am so happy that I came when I did," he said. "It has been a great pleasure meeting you and the silent one."

"Oh, Pippa is not usually silent. She generally has plenty to say for herself."

"I shall look forward to discovering what she has to say."

Tea had arrived and with it the most appetising little cakes I had ever seen. They were decorated with whorls of cream and were of various colours.

The young man was looking at Francine. "You must do— what do they say?—the honours? It is the lady's place, is it not?"

Francine settled happily behind the teapot, her fair hair breaking free of the ribbon which tied it back and which she was expected to wear at the Manor, and falling about her face. I had rarely seen her look so lovely.

We discovered the young man's name was Rudolph von Gruton Fuchs and that his home was in a place called Bruxenstein.

"It sounds very grand and far away," said Francine.

"Far away ... well yes, perhaps. And grand? Maybe you will visit my country one day and see for yourself."

"I should enjoy that."

"It would be a great joy to welcome you. Just now ..." He hesitated and looked at her ruefully. "There are troubles," he added. "There often are."

"It's a troublesome part of the world, I suppose," she said.

"You could call it that. But it is far away, eh, and we are here on this delightful afternoon."

He turned his eyes on me, but I had the impression that he found it hard to tear them away from Francine.

"You must have many adventures," said Francine.

"None," he assured her, "as pleasant as this one is proving to be."

Francine was talking a good deal. She seemed to be intoxicated with the pleasant afternoon. She was determined to enjoy herself in a fever of excitement because she was so dreading what her birthday party would bring forth. Although she swore she would never accept marriage with Cousin Arthur, she was practical enough to wonder what we would do when our grandfather became incensed by her refusal—or, worse still, would not accept it. So for this brief interlude she was determined to enjoy herself. She likes Rudolph, I thought. She likes him as much as he likes her. I could see that she was trying to prolong the afternoon, but eventually and most reluctantly she rose and said we must

"So soon?" he asked.

But it was not soon. We had been talking for an hour and a half.

"There is a strict rule in our house," she said. I thought it was rather indiscreet of her to talk about our home in the manner she did.

He said he would walk back with us, but that threw Francine into such a panic that he desisted. But he did walk with us to the gate and there, bowing low, kissed our hands. I noticed that he held Francine's longer than he did mine.

We broke away and started to run across the field to the Manor.

"What an adventure!" said Francine. "I don't think I ever had an adventure like that."

The invitation came through Hans to Daisy who brought it to Francine. It was from the Grafin and she asked Francine to visit her that day at three o'clock, as she had a request to make of her. I was not mentioned in the invitation so Francine went alone. I was all agog to hear what had happened and was waiting for her in the field near the cottages.

When she came away about an hour later she looked flushed and more excited than I had seen her for a long time.

"Did you see him?" I asked. "This—er—Rudolph?"

She shook her head. She looked bemused. Had she found another admirer? I wondered.

"It's so exciting," she said. "I saw the Grafin. What do you think? She has asked me to the ball."

"To a ball! What do you mean?"

"That they are to have a ball and I am invited. It's as simple as that."

"It doesn't sound in the least simple to me. Will grandfather agree? And you'll need a ball dress."

"I know. I thought of all that. But I said I'd go."

"In blue serge or perhaps your best poplin?"

"Don't be defeatist. I'll have a new dress somehow."

"Somehow is the word."

"What's the matter with you, Pippa? Are you jealous?"

"Never!" I cried. "I want you to go to the dance with Rudolph, but I can't see how you're going to manage it, that's all."

"Pippa," she said—and I have never seen a stronger purpose in anyone's face than I saw in Francine's at that moment—"I am going."

All the way back to the house and halfway through the night we discussed it. Rudolph had not been there. She had had tea with the Grafin who had told her that there was to be this ball and she would be delighted if Francine would attend. She was unsure what she should do about sending an invitation. We must have conveyed very clearly what it was like living at Greystone Manor and she no doubt guessed that to have sent an invitation through our grandfather would have meant an instant refusal. Francine must come, she said. If she did not the ball would not be the same.

In an excess of euphoria and a certain unswerving belief in her powers to achieve the impossible, Francine had promised, sweeping the practical details airily aside. Something would turn up.

"A fairy godmother?" I suggested. "Who'll that be? Perhaps they have them in Bruxenstein. I can't imagine one in the Manor. Shall we be able to find a pumpkin for the carriage? I believe there are a few rats around, so we might be all right for the horses."

"Pippa, stop joking about a serious matter."

It was all rather hopeless but I was glad that temporarily her mind was taken off those impending birthday celebrations.

When we visited our grandmother the next day, with that acute sensibility of hers she immediately realized that something had happened. She knew that Francine had been tense and uneasy because she feared she was about to be forced into marriage with Cousin Arthur, and it was not long before the whole story was drawn out of us. She listened entranced. "So the old Punch Room has become the Weinzimmer. I like the sound of the Grafin and the charming Rudolph." Our grandmother was a very romantic lady and it must have been a terrible tragedy to be married to a man like our grandfather. Miraculously the experience had not soured her; it had made her more gentle and tolerant.

She said, "Francine must go the ball." I listened in amazement. Our grandmother had an answer to everything. The dress? Wait a moment. She believed there was some material in one of her chests. Once she had dreamed she would celebrate the birth of her second child. No, not Grace ... the one who had been stillborn. She had bought at the time some beautiful blue silk chiffon embroidered with stars in silver thread. "It was the most beautiful material I ever saw," she said. "But when I lost the child I couldn't bear to look at it. I folded it up and put it away. If the silver stars haven't tarnished ... We'll ask Agnes to find it."

Agnes was delighted to see her mistress so happy. She once whispered to me that she had changed since we came. "She was a little like your sister, I imagine, when she was young ... but there's more freedom now." Not much more, I thought. It was gratifying that Agnes was an ally, for we needed allies.

We found the material. Francine cried out in delight when she saw it. The stars were as bright as they had been on the day when our grandmother had bought it.

"Take it," she said, smiling as though she could see it clearly, and I was sure she could in her mind. "Go to Jenny and get her working at once. She'll do it well. She makes ball dresses for girls' coming out now and then."

Excitedly we called on Jenny. Daisy came with us, for she considered she was involved in the adventure as it had been through her that we had first come to the Grange and set everything in motion. She herself was deep in an emotional affair of her own. Tom of the stables had discovered her friendship with Hans and, as she said, he was "hopping mad" and threatening all sorts of reprisals. Life was certainly exciting for these two heroines of romance—and I was content to be a looker-on.

Daisy had it from Hans that the Grafin had been more or less commanded to invite Francine because of the Baron, who was very important. He was in fact the most important of them all. Hans knew why but he wasn't telling even Daisy. "He will... given time," said Daisy confidently. She clearly enjoyed being drawn into this vortex of intrigue and gave us scraps of information about the household. The Grafin, it seemed, was very ambitious and was already putting out feelers for important marriages for her children. Hans said that back in Bruxenstein she never lost an opportunity.

Jenny Brakes was a little astonished when she saw the material and heard that she was to make it into a ball gown.

"For your birthday party, Miss Francine?" she asked. "Miss Grace has already told me I was to go up to the house. She's got a nice piece of taffeta she tells me for your party dress. It's going to be a very special occasion."

"No," said Francine. "This is to be a very special dress."

"Made in secret," added Daisy.

Jenny looked frightened.

"Come on," said Daisy. "Who's to know?"

"Really ... I don't understand, Miss Francine... ."

"It's simple," Francine explained. "I want a ball gown made quickly, and you just do not mention that you are making it for me."

"But you're having the taffeta—"

"I'm having this too," said Francine.

Poor Jenny Brakes! I knew how she was feeling. She greatly feared to offend my grandfather. She lived in one of his cottages and if he knew that she was making a ball gown for his granddaughter he would be very angry indeed; and when he was angry he was a man to show no mercy. It was I who came up with the solution. Jenny need not know at all that it was in secret. The gown was to be made for Francine and as it was needed in a hurry it was simpler for Jenny to make it in her own cottage, as she sometimes did. If we were discovered, Jenny could be proved to be entirely innocent of any intrigue.

At last she agreed and sketched out a design right away. What fun we had making our suggestions! It must be daring; it must be simple; it must be cut to show Francine's swanlike neck. It must accentuate her tiny waist. It must have a billowing skirt.

The excitement was so intense that I thought Francine would betray it. I believe Aunt Grace knew something was in the air but she was too immersed in her own life at the moment, for since Charles Daventry had carried Francine into the house, I believed she was visiting him in secret.

We made a great plan of action. On the night of the ball Francine would slip out of the house and go to the Emms' cottage. Daisy's mother was a willing conspirator, so there could be no blame attached to Jenny. Mrs. Emms would keep the dress in her cottage for Francine to change into. Then she could slip across the lawn to the Grange. Like her daughter, Mrs. Emms was fond of adventure. If she were discovered and my grandfather's wrath was aroused, she would take the consequences. "He would never turn us out," she said. "Not the Emmses. We've been in this cottage too long and my Jim's too useful a man."

So it was all settled.

Daisy reported that this was going to be the most magnificent of all the balls they had had at the Grange. It was in honour of a very important personage—presumably Francine's admirer. "The preparations ..." cried Daisy.

"All the food ... all the flowers and things. It'll be royal, that's what it'll be. I reckon they couldn't do better at Buckingham Palace or that Sandringham where the Prince of Wales enjoys himself so much."

The great day came and we could scarcely contain our excitement. Somehow the hours passed. We were very absentminded at our lessons and Miss Elton remarked on our inattention. I think she knew something was afoot and as the whole household was aware that Francine was destined to marry Cousin Arthur, I was sure that if they knew what it was they would have done their best to shield her.

I went with Francine to the Emms' cottage and there, with Daisy, I helped to dress her. Several little Emmses looked on in wonder, and when she was ready she looked like a fairy princess. Excitement enhanced her beauty and there could not have been a colour which suited her better than the blue silver-spattered chiffon. Of course she needed silver shoes and had only her black satin ones, but they scarcely showed. She looked perfect, I told her.

The arrangement was that I should be watching at our window and when she came home I would creep down and let her in. She would have been to the Emmses first and changed into her day clothes, leaving the gown at the Emms' cottage to be brought back next day by Daisy.

"Such an operation needs careful planning," I had pointed out. "Every detail has to be thought of."

"Philippa is our general," cried Francine with a giggle. "I must obey her commands."

So as everything had been so precisely arranged, I felt that only bad luck could upset our plans. After watching— from a safe distance—Francine enter the Grange with the other guests, I went back to the Manor. I sat at my window, looking out over the lawns. In the distance I could see the towers of the Grange and the lights; I could even hear the faint strains of music. I could see the church, too, and the grey tombstones and I thought of poor Aunt Grace and Charles Daventry who had lacked the courage to make their own lives. Francine would never lack that courage.

"God's in his heaven," I thought, looking up at that black velvet sky, at the glittering stars and the moon that was almost full. What a beautiful sight! I prayed then for Francine's happiness, for a miracle to save her from Cousin Arthur. I remembered the old Spanish proverb my father referred to once. It was something like, "Take what you want," said God. "Take it and pay for it,"

One took and one paid. One must never grudge the price. My father had taken a certain way of life which had denied him his patrimony, an old house full of family tradition. My grandfather had taken his own way. He might make others dance to his tune but he was bereft of love. I would not have been my grandfather for all the power in the world.

It was about eleven o'clock when I heard the commotion below. My heart beat so violently that it shook my entire frame. There had been no sign of Francine. She was to have come below my window, and I was to be at my post—which I was. But there was no Francine and surely eleven o'clock was too early to leave a ball.

I went to my door and listened. I could hear my grandfather's voice. "Disgraceful ... fornicating ... sinful ... Go to your room. I shall deal with this as you deserve. I will see you in the morning. You are disgusting. I could not be­lieve my eyes... . Under my roof ... caught ... in flagrante delicto."

Someone was moving towards the stairs. I hastily shut my door and leaned against it, waiting. I expected Francine to burst in at any moment.

Nothing happened. Where was she? He had said, "Go to your room." But she did not come and I could not understand what it meant.

I was back at the window. All was quiet down there. I went to my door and listened. There were steps on the stairs. That was my grandfather going to his room.

I was bewildered and dreadfully afraid.

It was about half an hour later when there was a gentle knock on my door. I ran to it and Daisy almost fell into the room. Her hair was tousled and her eyes wide.

"It's that Tom," she said. "That's who it was. He told on us.

"Was it you whom my grandfather was talking to?"

She nodded.

"Oh, Daisy. What happened?"

"We was caught—Hans and me—in the old bone-yard. I always liked it there. It's soft on the grass and it's life, ain't it... life among death."

"You're crazy. I thought it was Francine. Come and sit by the window. I must keep watch for her. She'll still be at the ball."

"For a long time, I reckon."

"Tell me what happened with you."

"Hans said he could slip away at half past ten and I said I'd be near Richard Jones. He had three wives and buried them all with him. It's a lovely stone he had done for himself and the three of them. You can lean against it and there's a beautiful guardian angel over it. It makes you feel kind of safe and happy. Tom liked it there too."

"What were you doing?"

"The usual." She smiled at the recollection. "There's something about Hans, you know. Of course, Tom was hopping mad. Hans wrote a note saying he'd be there by Richard Jones and I lost the note. Tom must have got his hands on it. I never thought he'd tell like that—but you know how it is with jealousy. But you wouldn't, of course, being so young. Sometimes I forget how young you are, Miss Pip. What with me and your sister ... well, we're sort of bringing you up fast. So there we were. Your grandfather must have seen us meet. Must have been hiding there. I bet it was behind Thomas Ardley. I never liked that stone. It always gave me the creeps. Then he ups and catches us ... right in the act ... you might say. He called out to us and there was I with my bodice open and half out of my skirt. And Hans ... well. Your grandfather kept saying, 'And in such a place.' Then he took me by the arm and dragged me back. You must have heard him in the hall. 'Up to your room,' he says. 'I'll deal with you in the morning.' It'll be out for me. What'll Ma say? She was dead set on me getting this place and settling down respectable."

"You'll never be respectable, Daisy."

"I reckon you're right," she admitted ruefully. "But I'll be out tomorrow. It'll be the tin box on my shoulder and home to Ma. She'll miss the money. Still, perhaps I'll get a place at the Grange. Hans could speak for me."

We sat on at the window. Midnight struck on the old church clock. I felt wide awake. Daisy would certainly be dismissed. I tried to imagine what it would be like without her, for she had played a big part in our lives.

It was nearly two o'clock when Francine came in. I sped down and drew back the heavy bolt. She was starry-eyed, still living in a wonderful dream as we tiptoed back to our room. Daisy was still there and we hastily told Francine what had happened.

"Daisy, you idiot!" she cried.

"I know," replied Daisy. "But I'll be all right. I'll go and see Hans."

"What was the ball like?" I asked.

She clasped her hands and her ecstatic expression told us all. It had been wonderful. She had danced with the Baron all the evening. Everyone had been charmed by her. They had all been foreigners, of course. "It might have been that the ball was given in my honour. That was how it felt. And the Baron Rudolph ... he is perfection. Everything I ever dreamed a man should be."

"Everything that Cousin Arthur is not," I added, and immediately wished I hadn't mentioned him because I feared his name would break the spell.

But it didn't. She scarcely noticed. She was bemused. It was no use trying to talk to her that night.

I told Daisy she should go to her room and get a little sleep. She must remember the ordeal she would have to face the next day. Reluctantly she went and Francine undressed slowly.

"It is something I shall never forget," she said. "No, no matter what happens. He wanted to bring me home so I had to explain and he took me to the Emms' cottage and waited outside while I changed, and when I came out in my old serge he was still there. He brought me right to the edge of the lawn. I told him everything ... about Grandfather and Cousin Arthur. He was very understanding."

"It's over now, Francine," I said.

"No," she answered. "It's only just beginning."

The next morning we were all assembled in the chapel for the solemn denunciation. Francine and I sat together in the front row with Aunt Grace. The glow was still on my sister. I could see that, in her thoughts, she was still at the ball. Our grandfather came in with Cousin Arthur and I noticed a look of suppressed excitement in the former's face as though this was not entirely distasteful to him.

He stood up in the pulpit after Cousin Arthur had taken his seat beside Francine. She moved a little closer to me as he did so and I wondered whether he noticed.

Grandfather lifted his hand and said, "This is an occasion of great sorrow to me. I am faced with a situation which fills me with disgust and humiliation. One of my servants—one whom I had harboured under my roof—has behaved in such a manner as to bring disgrace to this house. I cannot express my horror at my discovery."

Yet you are relishing that horror, Grandfather, I thought.

"This wanton creature has behaved in such a manner as decency forbids me to describe. She has been caught in the very act. Feeling it my duty, I forced myself to witness her depravity. She was in my care and I could not believe that a servant of mine could be guilty of such an act. I had to see it with my own eyes. Now she will stand before us all in her sinfulness. Yet I am going to ask God to show mercy to her, to give her an opportunity to repent."

"Magnanimous of him," Francine whispered.

"Let her be brought in," he called.

Mrs. Greaves came in with Daisy, who was wearing a coat over her dark dress, which was not the uniform provided to all the Greystone servants.

"Come here, girl," said my Grandfather. "Let all see you that they may learn the lesson of your folly."

Daisy came forward. She was pale and less sure of herself than I had ever seen her before—slightly defiant, not the chirpy Daisy we knew so well.

"This creature," went on our grandfather, "is so deeply immersed in depravity that not only does she sin but she must do it in a holy place. It may well be that there will be a result of last night's work. The evil that we do lives on to the third and fourth generation. I am going to ask you all to get down on your knees and pray for the soul of this sinner. There is yet time for her to repent her evil ways. I pray God she will do so."

Our grandfather's eyes were glistening as he looked at Daisy and I believe he was imagining her in that position in which he had caught her and revelling in the memory in some strange way. I wondered if he was pleased when people committed sins because it made him appear all the more virtuous. But this was a particular sort of sin which had this effect on him. It was different when someone was caught stealing. One of the men had been dismissed for that and there had not been this ceremony in the chapel. This was like the Puritans I had read about. I wondered he didn't want Daisy to have a scarlet letter sewn on her bodice.

Cousin Arthur preached a short sermon about the wages of sin and then we prayed again, and all the time Daisy was standing there looking rather bewildered. I wanted to go to her and put my arms about her and tell her that whatever she had done in the churchyard wasn't half as bad as what my grandfather was doing to her now.

At length the ceremony was over. My grandfather then said, "Take your box, girl, and go. Never let us see your face here again!"

Francine and I went into the schoolroom. Miss Elton was there, pale and silent.

Francine suddenly burst out, "I hate him. He's a wicked old man. I will not stay here."

She was close to tears and we gripped each other's hands tightly. I knew I would never forget that horrible scene in the chapel. Miss Elton did not reprove us. She too had been shaken by what she had seen.

Later that day Francine said to me, "I'm going to see Daisy. Are you coming?"

"Of course," I replied, and we made our way to the cottage. Mrs. Emms was there and as usual there were several children running in and out. Daisy was not at home.

"She's up at the Grange," Mrs. Emms told us, "seeing that Hans." Mrs. Emms nodded grimly. "So she's out of the Manor. I thought at first it was all along of you and that ball dress."

"Our grandfather doesn't know anything about that," said Francine.

Mrs. Emms winked. "It would be a case of God 'elp us all if he ever did."

"Somehow now I don't care about him. I hated him this morning ... and that smug Arthur. I hate Greystone. I want to get away from it."

"My poor Daise. And all for having a bit of fun in the graveyard. She's not the first, I shouldn't wonder."

"We're worried about Daisy. What will she do?"

"She'll find something. Always able to look after herself, our Daise."

"Do you think she'll be back soon?"

"Who's to say? Her own mistress now, she is."

"Will you tell her we called?" said Francine. "Tell her we hated it all as much as she did. Tell her we thought it was horrible."

"I'll tell her that, Miss. She thinks a powerful lot of you two young ladies."

As we were about to go, Daisy herself came in. She looked quite different from the dejected sinner of the chapel. We flew at her and hugged her. She looked very pleased and Mrs. Emms said, "Well, fancy that."

"Daisy," cried Francine, "we were so worried about you."

"No need," cried Daisy triumphantly. "I've already got myself a situation."

"No!" we cried together.

"Oh yes, Miss. Well, I had half a promise of it before. Hans says, 'Why don't you come up the Grange? I'll speak for you.' Well, there I am. And I've seen the chef there. A very important gentleman—all twirling moustache and fat cheeks. He gave me a pat and said, 'Start tomorrow.' Kitchen maid! And what a kitchen."

"It's wonderful!" I cried.

Mrs. Emms sat down, legs apart, a hand on each plump knee. She was nodding her head sagely. "What 'appens when they go?" she asked. "They never stay more than a few months."

"Hans says he reckons I could go with them." The gaiety of the last few moments had faded. We were all thinking of when they were going. Mrs. Emms would not want to lose Daisy. Nor should we. But Francine quite clearly found the prospect of their leaving so depressing that she could not bear to think of it.

Events moved quickly after that. The date of our house party was announced. It was to be the first week in September. Guests would arrive on the Monday; Francine's seventeenth birthday was on the Tuesday; there would be another day of entertainment and the guests would leave on the Thursday.

Jenny Brakes came to the house and made up the taffeta for Francine. It was in a dark red colour; I was to have dark blue—a nice, serviceable colour, said Aunt Grace. Poor Jenny Brakes was a little embarrassed; her recent sin in making the blue chiffon sat heavily upon her, and in view of what had happened to Daisy Emms she was very uneasy. Making up a dress illicitly could not be as great a sin as fornication in a churchyard, but my tyrannical grandfather was greatly feared. Francine pointed out that it would have been the same if Daisy had not had a family nearby to go to; she would have been turned out just the same. "He has no pity," she said. "If that is being a good man, then God preserve me from them."

Her spirits were high during those days of approaching doom because she was going to the Grange every day. Sometimes she would ride out alone. But I knew she did not continue alone and that she was going to some rendezvous with the romantic Baron.

The invitations were sent out to the guests. Great preparations were being made. Mrs. Greaves was delighted and said this was how it should be in a big house. She reckoned that in future there would be a great deal of entertaining. There would be the newlyweds to bring a younger spirit into the house and then they would have to think of a match for Miss Philippa.

I was very apprehensive because Francine was not nearly so disturbed as she should have been and I wondered what that meant.

About two weeks before the party our grandfather sent for Francine. She went to the library with her head held high and I waited in our bedroom terrified of what might happen, for it was perfectly obvious that we were moving towards a crisis.

In half an hour she came to our bedroom, her cheeks slightly flushed, her eyes very bright.

"Francine," I cried. "What happened?"

"He told me I was going to marry Cousin Arthur and that that sainted nephew of his has asked his permission for my hand which he had graciously given. Knowing that it was his wish, he had no doubt that I would accept it with delight."

"What did you say?"

"I have been very clever, Pippa. I have let him believe that I will."

"You mean you've changed your mind?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you any more yet. I'm going out now."

"Where?"

She shook her head. "I promise I'll tell you. Before I do anything I'll let you know."

It was the first time I had not been completely in her confidence, and I was apprehensive. I felt that everything was changing about me. Daisy had gone. And what had Francine meant? Was she going to do what our grandfather wished and marry Cousin Arthur? Or else what?

Miss Elton asked me where she was and when I said I did not know she did not pursue the matter. Miss Elton had always seemed a colourless person, but I think she understood a good deal of what was going on; everyone in the household must have realized that Francine and Cousin Arthur were just about as unsuited to each other as two people could be.

I went up to our grandmother. We had told her about the ball and she had sat there smiling and holding our hands as she liked to. She had been alarmed for Francine and believed that if Francine married Cousin Arthur her life would be intolerable. "I would die happy if I knew you two girls were all right," she had said. "And by all right, I mean leading worthwhile lives which might not always be lived in perfect bliss ... that would be asking too much ... but lives you have made for yourselves. Your grandfather made my life what it was ... empty ... not mine at all. He has done the same for Grace. He tried to with your father. You must strike out boldly to live your own life. Take it ... live it ... and do not regret the consequences, because it is what you have chosen." I knew she was right. I told her about Daisy.

She said, "He would call himself just. He has set up a code of morals which do not always add up to morality. Daisy is a girl who will always have men. She may well find herself in trouble through it. But she will work her way out. And his unkindness, his harshness, his revelling in that so-called justice which brings hardship to others, is a greater sin than any Daisy could commit in the graveyard. Dear child, this seems strange coming from me. In the old days I would not have said it ... would not have thought it. It was only when blindness descended on me and I knew my life was virtually finished that I looked back over everything more clearly than I ever had when I could see with my eyes."

"What do you think is happening at the Grange?" I asked.

"We can only guess. Perhaps there is an avenue of escape. She must not marry where she does not love. She must not become your grandfather's victim."

Soon after I left my grandmother, Francine came back. I had never seen her so excited. "I am leaving Greystone," she said. She threw herself into my arms and we clung together.

"Going away ..." I stammered. "I shall be left... ."

"I will send for you. I promise."

"Francine when ... how?"

"Rudolph and I are going to be married. We are leaving at once. It is all very complicated."

"You are leaving England?"

"Yes. I shall go to his country. Pippa, I am so happy... . It's all very involved. I shall learn about it. Pippa, I am so happy ... except for one thing ... leaving you."

I had known that it was inevitable. She would never have married Cousin Arthur. This was escape and she was in love at the same time. I tried to think of her happiness, but I could only think of myself and the terrible loneliness of being without her.

"Cheer up, Pippa," she said. "It won't be for long. Rudolph says you can come to us ... but not yet. He has to leave rather quickly. He is very important in his country and there are all sorts of intrigues and that sort of thing. We can't do without each other ... we both know that. So I'm going with him. We're leaving tonight. Help me get a few things together. Not much. I shall have everything new. I shall take my starry ball dress. I'll get that from the Emms' cottage. Daisy is helping. Oh, Pippa, don't look so frightened. Don't look so lost. I'll send for you."

I helped her get a few things together. She was so excited she could hardly speak coherently. I said, "You must see our grandmother before you go. You must tell her."

"She'll understand," said Francine.

It was a strange evening. We dined as usual. Grandfather was in a benign mood because he believed everything was going to be as he wished. Cousin Arthur looked smug, so I presumed he had heard that Francine would favour his suit. Aunt Grace said very little as usual, but I think she was rather sad. Perhaps she had hoped Francine would not submit as she had had to. Perhaps she was planning rebellion herself and wanted the support of another rebel.

Francine was unnaturally bright, but no one seemed to notice it. Our grandfather looked at her with something like affection—or as near to that emotion as he could get.

As soon as the meal was over we retired to our room. Francine was leaving at ten o'clock and at a quarter before the hour she slipped out of the house with my help. I carried her cloak so that if we were seen she would not be dressed for outdoors.

We stood there, facing each other for a few moments. The night was still—not the slightest breeze to ruffle the leaves. Francine laughed on a high note. Then she reached for me and held me tightly.

"Oh, little Pippa," she said, "I wish you could come with me. If only I could take you I'd be perfectly happy. But soon ... soon. I promise you."

"Goodbye, Francine. Write to me. Let me know all that happens."

"I promise. Goodbye."

She was gone.

I stood there for some minutes listening. I visualized her at the Emms' cottage. Daisy would be there.

I remained there ... listening. There was no sound at all. Then I turned and crept back to the quiet house, a feeling of desolation creeping over me such as I had never before known in the whole of my life.