The Secret Woman

17

It was a deeply emotional moment when I stepped ashore on the island of Coralle. I shall never forget the impression of noise, color, and heat. There had been a heavy downpour of rain which lasted only a few minutes before the sun came out and set the steam rising from the earth. The heat seemed terrific and in my cream-colored blouse and navy blue skirt I felt suffocated.

I was aware of the scent of flowers; they were everywhere. Trees and bushes were covered with scarlet, mauve and white blossoms. There were a few houses near the water — huts rather, and they appeared to be made of mud and wattle and were on props so that they were a foot or so from the ground. Several of the inhabitants had come to see the ship. There were girls in long flower-patterned cotton dresses slit up to the knee on one side to show bare brown legs, who wore red, white or mauve flowers in their hair and necklaces of the garlands. There were men in light-colored trousers, torn and tattered mostly, and shirts as colorful as the women’s dresses; some of the children wore almost nothing at all. They watched with big brown wondering eyes.

There was music coming from some of the houses, strange haunting music played on tinkling instruments.

The sand was golden and the moist green palms were very different from those dusty ones which we had seen in the East.

And as I stood there in that torrid heat I remembered that in a few days’ time Serene Lady would sail away and I should be left here … a prisoner until it returned. Here was a life of which I knew almost nothing. What was waiting for me I could not conjecture; but I fancied as I had when I first entered the Queen’s House some premonition was warning me. Beware!

I looked at Chantel standing beside me on that golden shore and was thankful for her presence as I had been many times before, and for a few brief moments I allowed myself to imagine how I should have felt if she had deserted me at Sydney and I were now standing here without her. The thought of that raised my spirits. At least we should be together.

Monique had come ashore with us. She might have been expected to come with her husband but the Captain was not yet ready to leave the ship and naturally Monique was eager to see her mother. I was surprised that she had not come to meet the ship. There was no one but an old coachman who stood there in tattered trousers, open grimy shirt, grinning and saying: “So you come home, Missy Monique.”

“Jacques!” she cried. “I’m here. And this is my little Edward — grown since you last saw him but still my baby.”

Edward scowled and was about to protest at being called a baby but I gripped his shoulder and I suppose he too was feeling bewildered, for he was silent.

Jacques was studying us curiously and Monique said: “It’s the nurse and Edward’s governess.”

Jacques said nothing; and at that moment a young girl came up and threw garlands of flowers about our necks. Nothing could have looked more incongruous than those red highly scented flowers on my plain tailored blouse and skirt. But Chantel looked charming in a mauve garland. She grimaced at me, and 1 wondered if she were feeling as apprehensive as I was.

“We shall have to get ourselves suitably attired,” she whispered.

We climbed into the open carriage. There was just room for the four of us. I noticed that the woodwork of the carriage was scratched, the upholstery dusty and the two horses which drew it were thin and ungroomed.

“Soon home, Missy Monique,” said Jacques.

“It can’t be too soon for me,” said Chantel, “and I’m sure I speak for Missy Monique. This heat is going to take a bit of getting used to.”

Jacques whipped up the horses and we rattled along; children stood back to gaze at us with wide solemn eyes as we turned away from the sea and took an unmade road on either side of which glistening green foliage grew in abundance. Enormous blue butterflies flitted about us and a gorgeously colored dragonfly settled on the side of the carriage for a second or two.

Edward directed our attention to it with delight.

“You will have to be careful,” said Monique with a certain gleeful malevolence. “Mosquitoes and other deadly insects will be thirsting for your fresh English blood.”

“‘Fee, fi, fo, fum,’” cried Edward.

“‘I smell the blood of an Englishman.’”

“That’s right,” said Monique. “You see it’s thick for a cold climate and therefore more tasty.”

Edward studied his hand intently and Chantel said: “I shall be here to take care of all bites and stings. Remember I’m the nurse.”

We had turned again and were now riding parallel with the sea. Before us was a sight of great beauty — the Island in its natural state, unlike the waterfront, which was spoiled by the little mud and wattle huts, and all that went with a not very affluent human habitation. Now we could see the curve of the bay, the coral reef, the luscious palms which grew close to the water; the pellucid sea clear blue, with here and there what looked like pools of peridot green.

“It’s safe for bathing where the water’s green,” said Monique. “The sharks never go into green water, so they say. It’s true is it not, Jacques?”

“That’s true, Missy Monique,” said Jacques.

“Sharks,” cried Edward. “They bite off your legs and eat them. Why do they like legs?”

“I am sure they find arms equally delectable,” said Chantel.

Edward was staring in fascination at the blue water. But I noticed that he moved closer to me. Did he feel this repulsion which was gradually creeping over me? I felt touched that it was to me he should instinctively move for comfort.

Monique had leaned forward, her eyes glistening. “Oh, you are going to find it very exciting here.”

There was a note of hysteria in her voice. Chantel had noticed it. She took her arm and held her gently back in her seat — the efficient nurse, mindful of her duties even when trundling over an unmade road into what even she must believe might well be a very trying situation.

We turned up a path and went through a pair of wrought iron gates into a wilderness of growth through which there was a path so narrow that the branches scraped against the sides of the carriage as we rode. We rounded a bend and there was the house. It was long, of three stories, and made of some kind of stucco, but little of this was visible because the walls were covered with climbing plants. There was a porch and an open balcony on the lower floor, and balconies at several of the upper windows and where the stucco was visible it was dilapidated and breaking away.

There was a stretch of grass before it which might have been called a lawn if it had not been so overgrown. On it were two large trees which must have darkened the house considerably. But my attention was caught by the woman who was standing on the porch. She was fat as I imagined the natives of the island would be as they grew older. She was tall too and wearing the flower-patterned robe which seemed to be the island costume; her heavy black hair — turning gray — was skewered up on the top of her head by pins with enormous heads; around her neck were rows of beads made of cowrie shells; and her dangling earrings were made from these too.

She screamed: “Jacques! You’ve brought her, then. You’ve brought Missy Monique.”

“I’m here, Suka,” said Monique.

And she scrambled out of the carriage and threw herself into the arms of big Suka.

Chantel and I alighted and I helped Edward out.

“And here is my baby,” said Monique.

Suka’s enormous black eyes, slightly bloodshot, were on Edward. She had picked him up and cried: “My baby’s baby.”

“I’m not a baby,” said Edward. “I’ve sailed the seas with Captain Stretton.”

“There now,” said Suka.

Chantel and I might not have existed, and as I saw a certain mischievous look in Monique’s eyes I knew that this was how she intended it to be. She was the mistress here. We were the servants. I wondered what Chantel was thinking. I soon realized.

She said: “We should introduce ourselves. Miss Anna Brett and Nurse Loman.”

“The governess and the nurse,” said Monique.

Suka nodded and the great black eyes were turned on us momentarily. Her expression implied that she did not think much of us.

“Come in to your Maman,” said Suka to Monique. “She waits for you.”

“Should we come?” asked Chantel sarcastically. “Or go by way of the back door.”

“You should come,” said Monique smirking.

As we stepped up onto the porch, I saw a creature like a lizard dart between the piles and it occurred to me that the houses were built a foot or so from the ground as a protection against insects.

We stepped into the hall. The difference in temperature was apparent. It must have fallen twenty degrees. In our present state we could only be glad of this. How dark it was. It was a second or so before my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. At the one window the green shutters were closed — again I supposed to keep out unwelcome insects — but this was the reason for the dimness of the hall. There were mats in brilliant colors — native work I imagined — on a floor which at home it would have been thought necessary to polish. It was rough and some of the floorboards were broken.

At the far end of the hall was a bead curtain in place of a door and on a table was a bronze figure with an incredibly ugly face, naked but for a loin-cloth and beside it a stick in bronze or copper. I gathered it was a dinner gong.

We were taken up a flight of stairs which were carpeted with a strip of red, leaving the side of the stairs bare. They had not been painted or polished for a long time I guessed, and the carpet was dusty.

We reached a landing and there was a door which Suka threw open.

“Missy Monique is here,” she announced; and she went into the room.

Again we were faced with that gloom, but my eyes had grown accustomed to it. Edward was gripping my hand and I held his firmly.

It was a strange room, full of heavy furniture. There were brass ornaments, a small brass table, heavy chairs, and pictures on the wall. Here too the green shutters kept out the heat and the insects.

Seated in a chair was Madame de Laudé, Monique’s mother.

“My dear Monique!” she said.

Monique ran to her and knelt at her feet burying her face in her lap. I realized that she was an invalid and that was presumably why she had not come to greet her daughter.

“Maman … I am here. At last I am home.”

“And let me look at you, my little one. Ah, it is well you have come home. And Edward?”

She held out a thin hand with the blue veins standing out on it; it was adorned with rings and on her wrists were several bracelets.

Edward went forward uncertainly and was embraced in his turn.

“It is so long,” she said. “So long.”

She had raised her eyes and was looking at Chantel and me.

“You are the nurse and the governess. Which is which, please?”

“I am Nurse Loman,” said Chantel. “This is Miss Anna Brett.”

“I have heard that you have taken good care of my daughter and grandson. Welcome to Carrément House. I hope you will be happy here. You are a little fatigued. I will have mint tea sent to your rooms. It will refresh you and after I will see you both.” She reached out and picked up a brass figure of a girl in a long robe which hid a bell. She moved it in a languid gesture and immediately a young woman arrived. She was not more than fifteen I imagined, but fifteen was mature on the Island. Her feet were bare and she wore the long colored gown, not very clean, which most of the women seemed to wear.

“Pero,” she said, “take Nurse Loman and Miss Brett to their rooms and then make mint tea for them. I will see you later,” she said to us. She smiled almost apologetically. “At first I wish to be with my daughter and grandson.”

As we followed Pero, Edward ran after us and gripped my skirt.

“Edward will stay,” said Madame de Laudé.

Edward was about to protest so I gave him a little push away from me.

“Come along, Edward,” said Monique. “We want you to stay.”

He obeyed but reluctantly.

Along the creaky corridor we went; up a flight of stairs with banisters beautifully carved but inlaid with dust.

Our rooms were on the same corridor, for which we were thankful. We both felt that we did not want to be far apart in this house. Mine was large with a wooden floor that looked as though it had been attacked by woodworm or some such pest. There were the inevitable shuttered windows — two in this case; the bed was covered with a brilliantly colored counterpane; the carved armchair, its seat upholstered with gold damask, was definitely Louis XV. There was a delightful console table — gilt rococo with a central carved motif. Its marble top rested on a frieze decorated with ivy leaves. It was enchanting — and genuine. The other chairs were crude, made of unpolished wood and looked as though they had been nailed together by some unskilled carpenter.

I wondered how anyone could have allowed the armchair and the console table to remain in this room with the rest of the furniture. Chantel having inspected her room came back to mine.

“Well?” she said.

“It’s very peculiar.”

“I do so agree. Anna, what do you make of it? It’s such an odd place. So this is her home! It looks to me as if it will fall about our heads one stormy night. What do you think of the house?”

“That a good spring clean would not come amiss.”

“It hasn’t had that for years. If it did it would probably fall apart. How are we going to endure two months in this place?”

“I can only face it because you’re here,” I shivered. “When I think that you might have left us at Sydney. At least that was what I thought when you didn’t appear to have returned.”

“I was on board all the time, so your fears were without foundation. But we’re here now and we have to stay here for two months.”

“Of course,” I said, “we are passing judgment rather hastily.”

“And that is not your way, I know. I am the impulsive one.” She went to the window and opened the shutter. Framed in the window was a view so lovely that it looked like a painting on the wall — deep blue sea, palm trees, golden sands, and the exquisite curve of the bay.

Chantel looked down at her hands; they were grimy where she had touched the window.

“Are there no servants here?” she said.

“We’ve seen Jacques and Pero.”

“Not forgetting Nurse who came out to greet her Missy Monique on arrival.”

“Jacques has his horses and carriage to care for. He probably does the garden.”

Chantel snorted. “What I’ve seen doesn’t exactly suggest he overworks in that direction. Unless he has such green fingers that everything he touches sprouts up several feet overnight.”

“That’s the sun and the humid climate, I daresay.”

“Well, suppose he does work outside. There’s still Pero in the house and what’s that other creature doing all day when she has no Missy Monique to croon over.”

“The climate would not be conducive to hard labor.”

“I must say I agree with that. I feel quite limp.”

“That mint tea should revive us if it ever comes.”

It did come almost immediately. The girl brought it in very timidly on a metal tray on which flowers in red and Prussian blue had been rather crudely painted. The tea was in tall glasses in which were long spoons with stems shaped like a hoof. I recognized them as valuable. Aunt Charlotte had bought some like it and they were known as Pied de Biche.

What struck me afresh was the strange contrasts in the house. Valuable pieces of period furniture were side by side with things which were not only worthless but tasteless and crude.

“I hope this tea is to your liking,” said Pero.

She was shy and young and gave covert glances at us — particularly at Chantel who was well worth looking at by any standards.

I thought we might learn something from the girl and I knew Chantel was thinking the same.

Chantel said to her: “You have been expecting us?”

“Yes,” she said. She spoke rather halting English. “We know, we hear that the ship will be coming and bringing the two ladies … one for Missy Monique; one for Master Edward.”

“They don’t mind our coming?” I asked. “I mean did they think there might be people here who could do what we are doing?”

The girl’s face was solemn. “Oh, but the lady over the water … she send you. You are hers. Madame is very poor. She cannot pay. But the lady over the water is very rich and Missy Monique will be rich because she is married to the Captain.” She closed her mouth firmly and was clearly wondering whether she had said too much.

We sipped the tea. It was tepid; but the flavor of mint was refreshing.

We heard steps in the corridor and old Jacques appeared at the door. He looked severely at Pero who vanished, then he indicated the bags.

“Those are mine,” I said. “Thank you.”

He brought them in without a word and then took Chantel’s to her room.

Chantel sat on my bed. I sat on the damask Louis XV chair — reverently I must admit — and we looked at each other.

“This is a strange household we’ve come to,” said Chantel.

“Didn’t you expect it to be?”

“Not quite so strange. They seem to resent us.”

“The old nurse would, I suppose. After all you’re looking after her darling Missy and I’ve got Edward. She would consider them hers.”

“She looks as if she’ll cast a spell over us at any minute.”

“Perhaps she’ll make wax images of us and stick in pins.”

We laughed; we could joke while we were together, but we were both feeling the effect of this strange house.

Chantel went along to unpack and I did the same. I found water and a hip bath in a cupboard which was fitted with a basin and ewer. I washed and changed into a light linen dress and felt much better.

As I was doing my hair there was a light tap on the door. I opened it and there was Pero.

Madame de Laudé would like to see me, she told me. She would also like to see Nurse Loman. But not together. If I were ready she would take me down to her now, as Nurse Loman was not yet ready.

I hastily pinned up my hair and followed her downstairs. I sensed she was extremely in awe of her mistress.

Madame de Laudé said: “Pray sit down, Miss Brett. I’m afraid I dismissed you rather hastily. It is so long since I had seen my daughter and my grandchild. They are now with their old nurse so you need not concern yourself on Edward’s account.”

I inclined my head.

“This must be very strange to you, coming from England.”

I admitted it was rather different.

“I have never been to England although I am English. My husband was French. I have lived in this house since my marriage. Before that I lived on the other side of the island. When my husband was alive we were rich, very rich by island standards, but he has been dead for twenty years, and I have become ill. You may wonder why I tell you this, for you have come here to teach Edward and you may think it is not your concern, but I think you should know how matters are here.”

“It is kind of you to put me in the picture, as it were.”

She inclined her head. “You are not employed by me. You know this. It is Lady Crediton who employs you.”

“Yes, I did know that.”

“I could not afford to employ you. Things have changed here. Once it was very different. Then we entertained, lavishly, people who came to the Island from France, from England. My husband was a great gentleman, and the sugar plantation flourished. But now that is gone and we are poor. We have to be very careful. We do not waste in this house. We can do nothing. We are very, very poor.”

I thought this was a very strange way to talk to one in my position, but I realized that she was warning me that I must not expect much service. Doubtless I would have to wait on myself, clean my own room. I liked frank speaking and I asked if this was what she meant.

She smiled. It was. I was not in the least put out. I had intended to clean my room in any case and now I could do it without any fear of giving offense.

“It is a large house. There are thirty rooms. It is square in shape, or it was when my husband first built it, but then he built on. That is why he called it Carrément. Square you see. Thirty rooms and only three servants. It is not enough. There is Jacques, Suka, and Pero. And Pero is young and not experienced, and island people are not energetic. It is the climate. Who can blame them? Oh, the climate! It is not good for much. It ruins the house. It breeds the insects. The weeds and bushes are everywhere. The climate, it is always the climate, they say. I have lived my life in it and I am used to it. But for some it is trying.”

“I understand, Madame.”

“I am glad. Now I must see Nurse Loman. Oh, we shall take our meals together. It’s less trouble that way, and it’s cheaper to prepare a dish for us all. Jacques and Suka cook and Pero waits. You know the household now. We eat at eight o’clock. The Captain will join us tonight. He will wish to spend as long as possible with his wife and son.”

I wondered if she noticed my heightened color.

“And now,” she said, “if Nurse Loman is ready I will see her.”

I went to Chantel’s room. There were one or two pieces of good furniture in her room, both French.

I said: “I have just had an illuminating interview with Madame. Your turn now. We have certainly come to a strange household.”

18

Darkness came quickly on the island. There was no twilight. It was daylight, and then a moment or so later it was night.

At a quarter to eight Chantel came to my room. She had changed into a black lace dress which suited her coloring to perfection. She clicked her tongue when she saw me. I was wearing a black dress too.

“That won’t do, Anna,” she said. “I always hated that dress. To tell you the truth — it’s drab.”

“I’m not expecting to go down to a banquet.”

Her eyes were dreamy. “Anna,” she said, “the Captain is dining here tonight. Perhaps he will dine here tomorrow night, and then he’ll go away. He’ll remember you as you are tonight so don’t let it be in that unbecoming old thing.”

“Chantel, please …”

She laughed and started to unhook my dress.

“You seem to forget that he has a wife,” I said.

“She won’t let me forget it. The Captain must have a pleasant memory to take away with him.”

“No, it would be better …”

“If you were to make yourself ugly? How unromantic you are!”

“Should one be romantic about someone else’s husband?”

“One should always be romantic, and there is something very romantic about love that cannot be fulfilled.”

“Chantel, please, don’t joke about this.”

“I’m not. If you only knew how much I want you to be happy. And you’re going to be even if it is not with the Captain and it isn’t going to be with the Captain, Anna.”

Her eyes flashed and she looked like a prophetess. I said, “I wish you would stop talking about this.”

“I’m going to talk about it,” she said. “He’s not for you. He’s not good enough for you, Anna, as I’ve told you before. All the same I do think you should put on something pretty tonight.” She had taken out a blue silk dress and held it up to her. “There. It’s one of your best. Please, Anna.”

I slipped out of the dress and put on the blue one. Whatever I said I wanted to look my best tonight.

I looked at myself in the mirror in the blue dress. With the color in my cheeks I was not unattractive, I decided.

Chantel was watching me intently and I said, to change the subject: “Pero brought these candles in. She said they never light them until it’s impossible to see without them. Candles are very expensive on the island.”

“Surely they can’t be as poor as all that. I think our Madame has a mania for saving money. You look pretty now, Anna.”

“It’s this expensive candlelight. It hides the faults. Everyone knows it softens the features and brightens the eyes.”

“I’m surprised that we are to eat at the family table — being only nurse and governess.”

“It’s cheaper if we eat together, she told me.”

“She told me that too.”

Chantel began to laugh.

“Oh, Anna, what sort of a madhouse have we come to?”

“We shall have to wait and see.”

She went to the window and opened the shutter.

“You’ll get filthy,” I told her.

“Come here. You can see the ship.”

There it lay in the bay, as The Secret Woman must have done.

“It gives you a feeling of security,” I said.

“How will you feel, Anna, when it is no longer there?”

I shivered. “That,” I said, “remains to be seen.”

“Never mind, it’s only for two months.”

“Are you sure?”

She smiled at me. “I’m positive. I shall not stay here for longer.”

“You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I just know it in my bones,” she said. “I shall not stay here for more than two months.”

“Prophetic!”

“If you like.”

“I should not want to stay here alone.”

“‘Whither thou goest I shall go.’ And on that biblical note let’s go down to dinner.”

Chantel opened the door so that the light from the oil lamp in the corridor could show us the way. I closed the shutter and blew out the candles. The room looked eerie in darkness.

But through the shutters I could see the ship in the bay and I guessed that Redvers was below. I was glad he was here for our first night.

There was a candelabrum on the table which was strikingly beautiful. In spite of the strangeness of everything I noticed it immediately; a young goddess supported the torchère on which the candles stood. Priceless, I thought. And French like most of the valuables in the house. It was worthy to have stood on one of the tables in Versailles. The light from the candles threw flickering shadows round the room. We were a large party tonight. I wondered what it would be like when there were only four of us.

At the head of the table sat Madame de Laudé. Red was on her right; at the other end was Monique, breathing fairly easily; on her right was Ivor Gregory and her left Dick Callum; Chantel and I faced each other.

Pero and Jacques waited on us; I imagined Suka was in the kitchen.

There was fish which I could not identify; it was probably caught in the bay, a dish of beans and vegetables followed and after that delicious fresh pineapple. We drank a French red wine which although I was no connoisseur I guessed to be good.

Conversation ran smoothly. We talked of the voyage and of our fellow passengers. Every now and then I would be aware of Red’s eyes upon me, and turning would find Dick Callum watching me too, while Chantel flirted daintily with Ivor Gregory. Monique talked a great deal, and her mother watched her indulgently I thought.

Madame de Laudé was very dignified and I believed that in the past she had entertained frequently. I could imagine this room filled with guests and all the lovely pieces of furniture like that magnificent candelabrum being used for these occasions.

“Do you think, Captain,” she said, “that Nurse Loman and Miss Brett will be happy here?”

“I hope they will,” he replied uncertainly.

“They will find it very different after England. It is very different, is it not?”

“It’s a little warmer here,” said Redvers lightly.

“I was very anxious for them to come when I knew that Lady Crediton had engaged them. I have heard how very useful they have been … during the voyage. I hope they will want to stay.”

“They have been very useful,” said Monique. “Nurse Loman bullied me outrageously.”

Chantel retorted, “Madame Laudé will know it was done for your own good.”

Monique pouted. “She made me keep to my diet and sniff that beastly stuff.”

“Doctor’s orders,” said Chantel. “Confirmed by Dr. Gregory here.”

“I think, Madame,” said Dr. Gregory, “that Mrs. Stretton was lucky to have so efficient a nurse to look after her.”

“Nurse Loman looked after me, and Miss Brett looked after Edward. Edward was constantly seeking his Papa’s company, and that meant that Miss Brett was too.”

I heard myself say in an aloof voice, “It was only rarely that Edward was allowed on the bridge, naturally, and then he was most eager to learn everything possible.”

Monique looked from me to Chantel. I believed that she was bent on mischief; I wondered what she had already told her mother.

“It seems to be the general impression that when there are passengers on board it’s the Captain’s duty to entertain them,” said Red. “This, alas, is not so, for I am sure it would be very pleasant. The Captain’s job is to navigate the ship. That’s so, isn’t it Callum?”

Dick Callum said indeed it was. And the ship’s officers first care had to be the ship.

“But there is some social life?” asked Madame.

“There are occasions when we are free to mingle, but they are not as frequent as we could wish.”

“So the Captain’s wife is often left alone,” said Monique. “It is sad, is it not?”

“And do you think the voyage has been beneficial to my daughter, Doctor?”

“I think it has,” said Ivor Gregory.

“Before you leave the island you must have a word with our doctor here. He is very old … failing, alas. But the best we have. We will have a young man — one of our islanders — coming out soon. He is in England now at one of the hospitals in London where he is learning to qualify.”

“I’ll go along to see him tomorrow,” said Ivor, “and give him Mrs. Stretton’s dossier.”

“Dossier!” cried Monique. “It sounds as if I am a prisoner who has done wrong.”

There was polite laughter and Madame said the coffee would be served in the salon. Would we like to adjourn there?

The salon was a long room with french windows opening onto a balcony. Through the french windows I could see the unkempt lawn; there was a rocking chair on the balcony, a table and two straw basket chairs. The shabby parquet of the floor showed between the brilliantly colored native-made mats. The table caught my eye immediately. I thought it was a Georges Jacob. It was beautiful with an ebony veneer and dentil ornament round the edges. I could not resist running my fingers over that ebony surface. There was dust on it. It seemed sacrilege to treat such a piece so. There were a few chairs of a slightly earlier period with spirally fluted legs; the brocade with which they were upholstered was stained, but that could easily be remedied; the beautiful framework and marguerite decorations proclaimed them to be valuable.

Pero had brought in the coffee and placed it on the Jacob table. The cheap tray looked incongruous there, but the coffeepot and cream jug, the sugar basin and tongs were decidedly English Georgian.

Madame de Laudé sat on the brocade upholstery of one of the chairs and asked how we liked our coffee. As she poured graciously I kept thinking how different it must have been in this house when her husband was alive. And now she was battling with poverty, saving on candles when she was surrounded by pieces of furniture which in aggregate must be worth a small fortune.

The lamps had been lighted. There were only two of them, one at each end of the room, and they were far from adequate. The room was gloomy. I thought how I would like to rearrange the furniture and what use I would make of that lovely candelabrum in the dining room. I would have others of the same period about the room.

Monique was mischievous that night. She was talking about Rex Crediton. Madame de Laudé was eager to hear of him, for she betrayed a great desire for news of all the Creditons. Was she hoping that through her marriage Monique was going to rescue her from penury?

“I should have liked to have met your half brother, Captain,” she said.

“His business took him to Sydney,” Redvers explained. “He’s a very busy man.”

“He was very busy during the voyage.” Monique looked at Chantel and laughed. “Now he will be busy courting Miss Derringham.”

“A young lady he met on the ship?” asked Madame de Laudé.

“Oh no. She was in Australia. I think that was why he went out. They are very rich, the Derringhams. Are they as rich as the Creditons, Redvers?”

“As I am not a member of the Derringham company I don’t see their balance sheets,” said Red coolly.

“They have many ships, just like the Creditons. And Lady Crediton thinks it will be so good for them to link up … in marriage.”

“Lady Crediton is a very wise woman I know,” said Madame de Laudé. “And when these two marry and there is a … how do you say … ?”

“An amalgamation,” said Dick.

“Then they will be very rich indeed.”

Her eyes glistened. The thought of riches softened her. She talked of money as though she were speaking of a lover.

“It is very romantic,” she said. “And romance is always charming.”

“One could call it golden, in this case,” said Dick, his lips curling slightly.

“He knew how to amuse himself during the voyage.” Monique’s eyes had come to rest with seeming innocence on Chantel, who sat very still. Poor Chantel! I felt sad for her.

“He is a man who likes to amuse himself?” asked Madame.

“What man does not?” asked Monique laughing in Redvers’ direction.

“There is no sin in amusement, surely,” said Redvers. “In fact it’s more intelligent to be amused than bored, to be interested rather than indifferent. I can tell you, Madame, that my half brother is an extremely intelligent man. He has his wits about him, very necessary in his position.”

“You are fond of him I know,” said Madame de Laudé.

“My dear Madame, we were brought up together. We are brothers. We never bothered about the ‘half’. We were in the nursery together. He is now a man of affairs. There’s very little about the Lady Line that Rex doesn’t know.”

“Oh yes, he knows a great deal about the Lady Line,” said Monique laughing immoderately. Chantel watched her anxiously; she was always alert when Monique laughed too much. It could end in a struggle for her breath.

Chantel had risen. For a moment I thought she was going to betray her emotions which I was sure existed. I could not believe in her indifference to Rex.

She was looking at Dr. Gregory. “Should I give Mrs. Stretton ten drops of belladonna?”

“I should,” said Ivor.

“I’ll get it now.”

“What for?” demanded Monique.

“You are getting breathless,” said Chantel.

“Just a precaution,” added the doctor.

“You are going to your room?” asked Madame de Laudé. “You will need to be lighted up.” She picked up a figure from a small table and rang it. It was surprising what a noise it made.

Pero came running in, looking frightened. “Light Nurse to her room.”

When the doctor and Chantel had left, Monique said: “I am treated like a child.”

“My darling,” said Madame, “they are concerned for you.”

“You know it is better to ward off an attack than to deal with it when it comes,” said Redvers.

“I don’t believe I am going to have an attack. I don’t believe it. It was to stop me because I was talking about him. She never thought he’d go to Sydney and marry Miss Derringham. She thought she was irresistible.” She began to laugh.

Redvers said sternly, “Stop it. Don’t say another word about matters of which you know nothing.”

He had spoken in such an authoritative tone that we were all a little startled. It was as though a new man had stepped out from behind the mask of urbane charm. Monique sat back gripping the arms of her chair.

Dick Callum said: “I have already gathered that this has been a record year for coconuts, and we shall be taking a good cargo of copra back to Sydney.”

It was the cue to turn the conversation; to try to restore normality, to change the sultry atmosphere to one of pleasant conviviality.

“Sugar is not in such a fortunate position.” Madame shook her head mournfully. “But we are forgetting our duty. It is long since we entertained. You would like a brandy, a liqueur? I can promise you a very good cognac. My husband left a good wine cellar; and we don’t have much opportunity to make use of it. Fortunately its contents don’t deteriorate with age.”

Chantel and the doctor returned, Chantel carrying a glass which she proffered to Monique who pouted and turned away.

“Come along,” said Chantel, very much the efficient nurse, and Monique took the glass like a sulky child and drank the contents.

She sat back in her chair scowling. Her mother watched her anxiously. I saw Redvers looking at her, and on his face was an expression of hatred mingled with weary exasperation. It alarmed me.

After that the talk became desultory, with several conversations going on at the same time. Dick Callum, who was near me, said that we must see each other (by which he must have meant alone) before Serene Lady sailed. I replied that I thought there would be no opportunity for this.

“You must make one,” he said. “Please.”

Chantel was discussing Monique’s treatment with Ivor Gregory.

“I think the tincture of belladonna is a good substitute for nitrite of amyl,” she was saying.

“It’s effective, but as it’s taken internally you must be more watchful. Make sure that she doesn’t have more than the ten drops. During an attack the dose could be repeated … say every two or three hours. Have you a supply?”

“Yes, for two months.”

They talked earnestly of Monique’s state, very much the professional nurse and doctor.

It was nearly midnight when Dick and the doctor returned to the ship. Redvers was staying at the house.

Pero was summoned to show Chantel and me to our bedrooms. She went before us carrying an oil lamp. I suppose it had been worked out that this was cheaper than lighting a candle.

They both came into my room and Pero lighted candles on my dressing table. I said goodnight and the door shut on me.

Sleep was elusive. I had carried one of the candles to my bed and when I was in blew it out. There was a moon so I was not in utter darkness. I lay and my eyes growing accustomed to the gloom I could see the objects in my room quite clearly. Faint light filtered through the shutters. One must keep them closed because of strange insects which flew in. I thought of Chantel who might well be lying sleepless along the corridor. It was a comforting thought.

I heard the creak of a board and was reminded of the Queen’s House where boards had creaked in the quiet of the night without visible reason.

I went through all the events which had brought me here; and I realized that there had been a point in my life when it had been in my power to make a choice. I could have said: I will not come. I could have stayed in England. And then everything would have been different. I saw then that everything else which had happened to me — my life at the Queen’s House, my relationship with Aunt Charlotte — had been unavoidable. And then had come the moment of decision, and I had chosen this path. The thought excited me, and at the same time alarmed me. I could say to myself, Whatever happens it was your own choice.

The sound of voices! Raised angry voices! Monique’s and Red’s. Somewhere in this house they were quarrelling. I got out of bed and stood listening. I went to the door and stood there for a while. Then I opened it. The voices were more audible although I could not hear what was being said. Monique’s raised, passionate and angry; Red’s low, placating? Authoritative? I thought of his expression as I had seen it earlier. Threatening? I wondered.

I stepped into the corridor and opened the door of Edward’s room. The moonlight showed me his face for he had thrown back the sheet. He was asleep.

I shut the door and went and stood outside my own room.

The voices continued. And as I stood there a shiver ran through me; for at the end of the corridor something moved. Someone was standing there watching me.

I stared at the shape. I tried to speak but although I opened my mouth the words were not there.

The shape moved — large, bulky. It was Suka.

“You wanted something, Miss Brett?”

“N-no. I couldn’t sleep. I went to see if Edward was all right.”

“Edward will be all right.” She spoke as though I had been impertinent to suggest otherwise.

“Goodnight,” I said.

She nodded. I went back into my room and shut the door. I was still shaken from the shock of seeing her there and knowing that I had been watched when I had been unaware of it.

What was she doing there? Could it be that the door at which she was crouching had been that leading to the room which Monique and Redvers occupied? Had she been listening at their door, ready to run to the aid of her Missy Monique if she should be needed?

I went back to bed. How strange that I should be so cold in this humid heat. All the same I lay there for a long time shivering. It seemed like hours before I slept.

I was awakened the next morning by Pero who had brought breakfast to my room. It was mint tea, toast and butter with a very sweet preserve of which I did not know the origin, a piece of watermelon and two little sugar bananas.

“Very tired,” said Pero with a smile. “You did not sleep well?”

“It’s being in a strange bed.”

She smiled; she looked young and innocent. It was amazing how differently one could feel in daylight. The room looked shabby but no longer eerie with the sun filtering through the shutters. Edward came in while I was eating. He sat on the bed and said gloomily: “I don’t want to stay here, Miss Brett. I want to go sailing on with Serene Lady. Do you think the Captain would take me?”

I shook my head.

He sighed. “That’s a pity,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to like it here. Are you?”

“Let’s wait and see,” I suggested.

“But the Captain is sailing tomorrow.”

“He’s coming back.”

That comforted him as it comforted me.

Redvers had gone back to the ship to attend to business. Chantel was already with Monique who was not so well. Suka remained in the bedroom, staring at her, Chantel told me afterward, like a basilisk or the Medusa. “What she thought I was doing to her precious Missy, I don’t know. I told her to go,” she added. “But Missy said she was to stay and was going to have hysterics if she didn’t so I had to put up with her.”

Edward was a far less exacting charge. If he could not be with the Captain he wanted to be with me.

I said we would go and explore and asked Pero where we should have our lessons.

She pointed upward, very eager to please. There was the old schoolroom, she told me, where Missy Monique used to have her lessons. She would show me.

I took up the books I had brought with me and we went to a large room at the top of the house. The windows were not shuttered and there was a good view of the bay. I could see the ship lying there but I didn’t point this out to Edward for I knew it would only upset him.

There was a big table with a wooden form beside it. Edward was amused by the form and sat astride on it, whipping an imaginary horse and shouting, “Gee up!” and “Whoa!” at intervals while I looked round. There was a bookcase in which there were one or two readers and textbooks. I opened the glass doors. I thought they might be of use to us.

While I was studying them Suka came in. Edward eyed her suspiciously. I guessed she had tried to play the nurse with him and he did not like it.

“So you are here already,” she said. “You’d not waste time, Miss Brett.”

“We haven’t begun lessons yet. We’re spying out the land.”

“Spying out the land,” sang out Edward. “Gee up!”

Suka smiled at him tenderly, but he did not see her. When she went to sit on the form beside him he got up and started running round the room. “I’m the Serene Lady,” he said. He gave piercing shrieks like a siren. “All present and correct, sir.”

I laughed at him. Suka smiled — not at me but him; when she turned to me her eyes glittered and she made me shiver again as I had when I had seen her on the landing last night.

There was a rocking chair near the bookcase like the one I had noticed on the porch. She sat on it and started to rock to and fro. I found the squeak of the rockers — they needed oiling — irritating and her presence embarrassing. I wondered whether she was going to follow me round. I was determined that she should not remain while we were having our lessons. At the moment though I could not tell her to go; and as she said nothing and I found her silence unbearable I said: “We have a real schoolroom, I see.”

“That is what you did not expect? You think we do not have schoolrooms on Coralle?”

“Of course I didn’t think that! But this looks as if it has been used for generations.”

“How could that be? There was no house here until Monsieur built it.”

“And Mrs. Stretton was the only pupil?”

“Her name was Miss Barker.”

“Whose?”

“The governess.”

She rocked on her chair smiling to herself; she muttered something under her breath. It sounded uncomplimentary to Miss Barker.

“She came from England?” I asked.

She nodded. “There was a family that came here. He came to see whether he would stay altogether. There was a girl and a boy and they had a governess. And Monsieur he said that it was time Missy Monique had lessons. So the governess came here and she taught them in this room. Missy Monique and the little girl and little boy.”

“That was pleasant company for her.”

“They used to fight. The girl was jealous of her.”

“That was a pity.”

“The boy loved her. It was natural.”

I felt dubious. I imagined Monique — a spoiled, willful and unpleasant child.

“And so the governess taught them all,” I said. “It was convenient.”

“Not for long. They went back. They did not like the island. Miss Barker stayed.”

“What happened to her?”

Suka smiled. “She died,” she said.

“How sad.”

She nodded. “Oh, not at first. She taught Missy here and she loved her. She was not a good governess, not strict. She wanted Missy to love her.”

“Indulgent,” I said.

She rocked to and fro. “And she died. She is buried on the hill. We have a Christian cemetery.”

Her great eyes roved over me and I thought she was measuring me for my coffin.

What an uncomfortable woman!

19

That afternoon there was great excitement on the shore. I was resting in my room because of the heat. Everyone in the house — and on the island — seemed to follow this habit. In any case it was too hot to do anything but lie behind shutters in the middle of the day.

I heard shouting, but I took little notice; and it was Chantel who came in to tell me what had happened.

“Our gallant Captain is the hero of the occasion,” she said.

“What occasion?”

“While you were slumbering it’s been a matter of life and death out there in the bay.”

“The Captain …”

“Has been behaving with his usual eclat.”

“Chantel, do be serious.”

“He’s saved Dick Callum’s life.”

“What … the Captain!”

“You look surprised. Surely you expect heroic deeds from him.”

“Tell me what happened. Is he … ?”

“Completely unconcerned by the adventure. He looks as though he saves lives every day.”

“But you’re not telling me what happened.”

“How impatient you are! In brief, Dick Callum took a swim. He had been warned that the waters were shark infested, but he waved aside all warnings. He went in; the sharks were interested. Then he was overcome by cramp. He yelled. The Captain was at hand and ‘accoutred as he was plunged in’ (Shakespeare). He saved him. Snatched him from the very jaws of the murderous shark.”

“He did that?”

“Of course he did. You wouldn’t expect him to do otherwise.”

“Where are they?”

“Dick is on board and Dr. Gregory is in attendance. He’s suffering from shock and is being kept to his bed for a day or so. At the moment he’s sleeping. Greg has given him an opium pill. It’s what he needs.”

I was smiling and she laughed.

“You look positively beatific. Ah, it is just as well he sails away tomorrow.”

She was looking at me wistfully.

“Chantel,” I said seriously, “you and I should never have come here.”

“Speak for yourself,” she mocked me. “And don’t deceive yourself. You wouldn’t have missed this for … a flourishing antique business.”

That evening was different from the previous one. Dick stayed on board in his bed; Monique kept to her room. Last night’s outburst had had its effect on her and Chantel had been giving her the drops of belladonna as prescribed by the doctor, watching her carefully, she told me, because like most effective drugs it was highly dangerous if given to excess.

Dr. Gregory came to dinner; Redvers was there with Chantel, Madame and myself. It seemed a much more civilized occasion without Monique. Pero and Jacques waited on us discreetly; Madame seemed more relaxed and played the rôle of grande dame with dignity.

We had excellent wine from the cellar which her husband had left her; the food was simple. There was more fish — the main dish this time served with a sauce which contained mangoes. There was a soup which I believed was mainly constituted of what had been left over from yesterday’s meal; we finished with passion fruit and sugar bananas. After that we took coffee in the salon, as before.

The conversation was largely about the incident that afternoon. Madame told stories of some adventures with sharks; how a man had been walking along close to the sea when one had nipped off his arm.

“They are very dangerous in these waters. You were very brave, Captain, to venture when one was near.”

“He wasn’t very close. I had time to get Dick in.”

“It will be a lesson to him,” I said.

“He’s a strong swimmer. He would have been safe enough if he hadn’t been suddenly attacked by cramp.”

“A dreadful experience,” said Chantel. “To be swimming strongly and suddenly to find oneself powerless.”

“Poor Dick Callum!” said Red. “I’ve never known him so shaken. He seemed ashamed of himself … as if it couldn’t happen to any of us.”

We talked of the Island then. Madame said she was sorry the ship would not be there for the great celebration. It was the day of the year for the islanders, and visitors always enjoyed it as much as the natives.

Chantel asked what happened during the celebration.

“Feasting and ritual dancing. You will be impressed by the flame dancers, will they not, Captain?”

“They are very skilled,” agreed Red. “They would need to be to perform this very dangerous dance.”

“That’s what makes it effective, I suppose,” said Chantel. “The danger.”

“I suspect,” said the doctor, “that they are wearing some fireproof substance on their bodies. They could not possibly use their flaming torches as they do without.”

“Their skill lies in their speed,” said Red.

Madame turned to us, explaining: “There is a family on the island who have done this flame torch dance for generations. They wish it to be known that they have the protection of the old fire goddess. It is that which makes everyone so eager to see them perform. They would not dream of telling anyone the secret.”

“Does the old man still dance?” asked Red.

“No, it is the two sons now. They in their turn have sons to whom they are teaching the art. There’s a legend which they make sure is kept going. Their ancestors came from the Fire Country and that is why they are on good terms with fire which will not harm them. That’s the story. But as you say it is some substance they smear on their skin and their clothes I daresay; and of course their marvelous agility.”

“Do they still live in that house along the coast?” asked Red.

“They would never move.” Madame turned again to Chantel and me. “You will not see the house unless you explore thoroughly. It is hidden by trees. This family has lived there, so they tell us, since they came from the Fire Country. They have refused to accept new ideas which have come to the island. I think they would like to see the island go back to what it was a hundred, two hundred years ago.”

“And where is this Fire Country?” asked Chantel.

“In their imagination?” I suggested.

“That is so.”

“What is it supposed to be? A kind of sun?” said Chantel. “It could only be somewhere in the sky?”

“You are too analytical,” said Red with a laugh. “Just accept it. These people are expert performers. It may be that they need their myth to enable them to do this highly inflammable act. If so, let them have it, I say. The dance is very good entertainment.”

“You see,” said Madame, once more addressing Chantel and me, “there is some entertainment on the Island.”

The doctor went back to the ship at ten o’clock, and Chantel and I retired to our rooms.

I had not been in mine more than a few moments when I heard the sound of pebbles hitting the shutters. I opened them and looked out.

Redvers was below.

“I must see you,” he said. “Can you come down here?”

I said I would shortly be with him.

I blew out my candles and went out into the corridor. The oil lamp stood on a table, the wick turned low for reasons of economy. I found my way, rather uncertainly, down to the hall and went out onto the porch from where I saw Redvers standing in the shadow of the house.

“I had to speak to you,” he said. “There won’t be another opportunity. Let’s walk away from the house.”

He had taken my arm; I felt his hands burning my flesh as we went silently across the grass. There was not a breath of wind; it was a beautiful night and although the heat of the day still seemed to hang in the air, it was not stiflingly hot. The stars were brilliant; the Southern Cross — as remote as our own Plow — dominated the sky, fireflies flitted past and then I heard the drone of an unknown insect. There was a soft perpetual hum coming from the bushes.

“It’s no good, Anna,” he said. “I have to talk to you frankly. Tomorrow I shall leave you. I had to talk to you tonight.”

“What is there to say?”

“What I have not yet said but what you must know. I love you, Anna.”

“Please …” I began faintly.

But he went on: “I can’t go on with this pretense. You must know this is different from anything that has happened before.”

“It has come too late.”

“That mustn’t be.”

“But it is. This is her home. She is in that house now. She is your wife.”

“God help me, Anna, sometimes I hate her.”

“No good can come of this. You must know that.”

“You doubt me. You have heard scandal … gossip. And even now I am talking to you in a way which you believe to be wrong.”

“I should go in.”

“But you will stay a while. I’ve got to talk to you. Anna, when I come back, you will be here and …”

“Nothing will have changed,” I said.

And I thought of Monique gasping for breath and of Chantel’s saying: “She won’t make old bones.” I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t want such thoughts to come into my mind.

“There are times when she so maddens me that I …”

But I could not bear him to say it. I cried: “No … no.”

“But yes,” he said. “Tonight is different. Tonight is like that other night. The night at the Queen’s House. I feel as though we are alone in the world as I did then. I could forget everything all around us. There were just the two of us then, and now it is the same.”

“But Aunt Charlotte came and showed us that it was an illusion. Of what use are illusions? They are nothing but dreams and we have to wake up and face reality.”

“One day, Anna …”

“I don’t want you to say this. I should never have come here. I should have stayed in England. It would have been the best way.”

“I stayed away but I did not forget. I’ve been haunted by you ever since that night in the Queen’s House. Oh God, how did I let this happen to me.”

“You loved her once.”

“I never did.”

“You married her.”

“I want to tell you how it happened.”

“Don’t. It does no good.”

“But you must know. You must understand.”

“I understand that you no longer love her.”

“Sometimes I think she has become mad, Anna. Sometimes I think she always was.”

“In her way she loves you.”

He passed a hand over his brow.

“I hate her,” he said. “I hate her for what she is, and I hate her because she stands between you and me.”

“I cannot bear it when you talk like this.”

“Only tonight, Anna. I must tell you the truth tonight. I want you to know how it happened. We had met, you and I. You were a child and I was drawn to you then, but how could I understand? It was only later when I came to the Queen’s House that I understood. Then I said, ‘I must go away. I must never see her again because this emotion which is between us is something I have never known before and I believe I should be unable to resist it.’ I’m not a hero, my darling. I want you. I want you more than anything … to sail with you, to be with you every minute of the day and night, never separated. We should be part of each other. That’s what I know. I knew it in the Queen’s House, but I know it a thousand times more certainly now. Anna, there is no one else for me in this world and there is no one for you. Do you know this?”

“I know that it is so with me,” I said.

“My dearest Anna, you are so honest, so true, so different from anyone I have known before. When I come back, I shall take you home with me. That won’t be the end. We shall be together, we must be together …”

“And Monique?”

“She will stay here. She belongs here on this evil island.”

“You call it evil?”

“It has been so for me. There has been nothing but misfortune here. That night of the flame dance … it is like a nightmare. I dream of it often. The hot night, the brilliant stars, the moonlight. It’s always the night of the full moon. The drums are going all day to call people to this side of the Island. You’ll understand when you’ve seen it for yourself. I thought it was exciting. I was earned away by the excitement. I didn’t recognize the evil then. It was not until the misfortunes came. Here I married. Here I lost my ship. Here I experienced the great disasters of my life. No, I shouldn’t talk of this, but tonight is different. This is our night when we tell the truth and come out from behind conventional nothings to say what really matters: the truth. I must make you see it. I can’t bear that you should not. I’m not making excuses. Everything that happened was my own fault. Imagine it. Those drums, the strangeness of everything, the feeling that everything in life is working up to some tremendous crescendo. We sat round in a great circle; we drank the native drink. It’s called Gali and it’s served in coconut shells which have been treated for the occasion. It’s highly intoxicating. They call it Fire Water. The Flame Men brew it in that house of theirs. They are at the very heart of the festival. They don’t want the European way of life thrust on the islanders. I think this is the purpose behind the feasting and dancing. I am trying to excuse myself, you see. The excitement, the intoxication … and Monique was there, one of them and yet not one of them. She joined in the dances. She was not ill then. I went back with her to Carrément … eventually.”

“There is no need to tell me,” I said.

“But I want you to understand. It was like a trap and I walked into it. We sailed away for a short trip the next day and when we came back two months later …”

“I understand. Marriage was inevitable. And that old nurse saw that it took place.”

“Madame de Laudé, the old nurse, Monique herself … they were determined. I was still under the spell of the Island. I was a fool. Oh God, Anna, if you knew what a fool. I still am, because I am telling you this, I am showing myself to you in the worst possible light. These matters which an honorable man would keep to himself … Anna, you must go on loving me. It is only when I remind myself that you do that I can feel the slightest happiness. Sometimes when she is in one of her mad passions …”

“Please don’t say it,” I cried fearfully. “Don’t even think it.”

I was terribly afraid. He had called the Island evil. I could believe that some evil was hovering close to us now. I thought: I shall remember this garden with its thick foliage, hot humid air, the subdued hum of insects as I remembered that other garden on the other side of the world, damp, misty with the almost imperceptible odor of chrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies and the damp earth.

A revelation had come to me. I loved him; I had known that for a long time, but I had loved him as the strong and conquering hero, now I knew him in his weakness, and because of that weakness I loved the more. It frightened me though, because he carried such a heavy burden of tragedy. Could there be any worse fate than to be married to a woman whom one loathed and to have been placed in those circumstances by one’s own youthful folly? When a man such as Redvers, a man of deep strong passions, loved another woman, the situation was not only tragic: it was dangerous.

I was deeply aware of those passions — as yet held in check; and I thought of Monique, reckless, violent and maddened by jealousy. And even at such a time I could be struck by the incongruity of finding myself, plain homely Anna, in the center of such a whirlpool of passion. Was I as capable of folly as any of them?

He had gripped my hands and I was overcome with tenderness and the need to protect him … to protect us all, myself and Monique as well.

I heard myself say coolly, for I felt in that moment that I could be an impartial observer, “Let us consider this calmly. We are not the first man and woman to find ourselves in this situation. I often think that if that night at the Queen’s House had happened before you went to the Island, everything might have been different for us. Time is so important in shaping our lives. I used to think that when I listened to all the clocks ticking away in the Queen’s House.”

And even now, I thought, I am talking for something to say. I am playing for time. I want to soothe him, to make him understand that we must not meet like this again.

He had drawn me closer to him and I said desperately: “No. We are being reckless. We must be careful.”

“Anna, it will not always be so.”

Somewhere in the distance I heard the call of a bird. It sounded like mocking laughter.

“I must go in,” I said. “What if we were seen together?”

“Anna,” he said, “don’t go.”

He held me fast. His lips were close to mine. And again came that mocking cry.

I knew in that instant that it was for me to decide the future; I must be the one to show restraint. Perhaps I should be grateful to Aunt Charlotte’s rigorous upbringing and the scorn she had always poured on those who broke the moral laws. And it was as though she were there in the garden — not sour and scornful as she had often been, but lifeless as I had seen her lying in her coffin — dead; and the suspicion of murder was hanging over me.

This present situation was far more dangerous than that which had existed in the Queen’s House; and yet there I had been suspected of murder. What would happen if one morning I awoke to the news that Monique was dead. What if there was a suspicion of murder? What if there was proof?

I felt that somewhere someone was warning me.

“I must go,” I said, and released myself and started to walk rapidly away.

“Anna.” I heard the poignant longing in his voice and I dared do nothing but hurry away.

I went into the house; and of course Suka was there. I believed she had been watching from the balcony.

“You like the night air, Miss Brett?” she asked.

“It is pleasant after the heat of the day.”

“Anna. Anna, my dearest …”

It was Red. He had stepped onto the porch before he saw Suka.

“You too find the night air very pleasant after the heat of the day, Captain?” said Suka.

He answered her coolly. “It is the only time to walk comfortably.” All sign of the passionate lover was gone. With a hasty goodnight, I made my way to my room.

There I sat in the armchair and put my hand over my fast beating heart.

I was elated and fearful. I was loved … but dangerously. I was no adventuress who looked for danger. I wanted to be serenely happy. But I had fallen in love with the wrong man for that. How different it would have been if I could have loved Dick Callum.

I thought of Suka. I wondered whether she would tell Monique what she had seen. She hated me. I sensed her hatred; and it would go deep.

It was no use going to bed. I should not sleep. The candles guttered in their sticks. I wondered whether I should be told I was burning too many candles. No matter what violent passions circulated about the inhabitants of this house, they must always be watchful of economy.

I would go to bed because then I could blow out the candles. How incongruous, to think of this at such a time. My life would flicker away like those candles. In frustration I should return to England, but not in the Serene Lady. I might get a governess post with people who were traveling back. After all Miss Barker — was that her name? — had found a post on the Island.

I washed in the cold water which was kept in the ewer; I plaited my hair and blew out the candles. I took one last look at the ship in the bay.

This time tomorrow it would be gone.

The next morning I went down to the ship to see Dick Callum as I had promised. Edward would have wanted to accompany me had he known but he was with his mother and I left him with her. Cargoes of copra, watermelon and sugar bananas were being taken out to the ship; and there was a great deal of traffic to and fro. I was rowed out in one of the little boats and scrambled up the gangway which had been dropped from the deck into the sea.

Dick was waiting for me. He was up but he looked a little shaken, and I was not surprised.

His eyes lit up with pleasure when he saw me.

“I knew you’d come,” he said, “but I was contemplating whether I should come ashore to see you.”

“Congratulations!” I said.

“So you’ve heard?”

“I was horrified. You should have been more careful.”

“It’s a lesson. I’ll not bathe recklessly in shark infested waters again.”

“Then perhaps it was not in vain.”

“It would have been the end of me but for Captain Stretton.”

I couldn’t help glowing with pride.

“It might have been the end of us both,” he went on. “The speed with which he came at me and hauled me back was something to be seen.”

“And how are you feeling now?”

“Still shaken and … ashamed.”

“It might have happened to anyone.”

“Let’s sit down,” he said. “I should really be on duty, but Gregory says I should relax till we sail. I want to talk to you, Anna. So it’s a good opportunity. I’m going to miss you. I hope you’ll miss me.”

“I shall be desolate to look from my window and see that the ship is no longer in the bay.”

“And I shall be thinking of you in that house, that strange house.” I was silent and he studied me closely. “It is a strange place. You’ve discovered that. Broken down, shabby, very uncomfortable I should imagine.”

“I hardly expected it to be another Castle Crediton.”

“You’ll be homesick, won’t you?”

“I don’t know. Life had not been very happy at home. My aunt had died.”

“Yes, I know. Anna, I’m trying to pluck up courage to say something to you. I want to tell someone, and you are the most important person to me. I want you to know.”

I turned to him. “Then tell me.”

“You know I want to marry you, but it is not of that I’m trying to speak. First though I want you to know that I’ll be waiting. You’re going to have two months here. Perhaps at that time you will change your mind.”

“About what?”

“Marriage.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You may not be in love with me, but you do not dislike me.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“And there may come a time when you say to yourself that a happy life can be built by two people who are determined to build it. Great passion is not always the rock on which to build the future. It changes; it’s like shifting sands … but mutual affection, good sense that’s steady as a rock.”

“I know.”

“And perhaps one day …”

“Who can say? One cannot look into the future.”

“And now we are good friends.”

“The best of friends.”

“That is why I must tell you this.”

“Please do, for I am sure it is something which is on your mind and you’ll feel happier for talking.”

“I hated the Captain.”

“I know.”

“You sensed it then?”

“You betrayed it. It was in the very way you talked of him. You were so … vehement.”

“And now he has saved my life. Because of the way I hated him I would rather anyone else had saved me.”

“But it was the Captain.”

“He is a brave man, Anna. A great romantic figure, eh? He has his faults but they are romantic faults, you think. He is the great adventurer, the buccaneer. I hated him because he had what I wanted most. Envy. That is what I felt for him. It’s one of the seven deadly sins — I think the deadliest.”

“Why did you envy him so much?”

“Because,” he said, “I might so easily have had what is his.”

“You mean you might have been a sea captain?”

“I mean I might have been brought up at the Castle; I might have shared my childhood with Rex; I might have been treated as a son of the house as the Captain has been.”

“Are you telling me …”

“He is my half brother. I am three years older than he is. My mother was a seamstress who came to the Castle to work for Lady Crediton. She was very pretty and she caught Sir Edward’s eye, as others had before her. When I was born Sir Edward gave my mother an allowance so that she did not have to visit the Castle. My education was taken care of and in due course I was given my training and joined the Company. But I was never acknowledged as Sir Edward’s son, as the Captain was.”

“Does the Captain know?”

“No. I shall tell him.”

“I think he will understand your feelings. I am sure he will.”

“They can’t be the same from now on. You can’t hate a man who has saved your life.”

“I’m glad … for you and for him. You’ll both be better without that senseless hatred.”

“And don’t forget, whatever happens in the next two months, I’ll be back. How I wish that you were sailing with us! I don’t like to think of you in that house.”

“But it was solely to be with Edward that I came.”

“Two months,” he said, “is not very long, but a great deal can happen in that time.”

“A great deal can happen in a day, as you’ve just discovered,” I reminded him. “Not long ago you hated the Captain, now your admiration is greater than your dislike. Tell him so. I am sure he will understand.”

“You think very highly of him, don’t you?” he said wistfully.

I did not answer. I was afraid to speak of my feelings to anyone.

When I left him to come ashore Redvers was waiting for me at the gangway.

“There won’t be another opportunity to speak to you alone, Anna,” he said. “I’ve written to you.”

He thrust a letter into my hand.

We stood close looking at each other but it was impossible to talk there. So I said: “Goodbye, Captain. A safe and happy voyage.”

And then I started down the gangway.

I could not wait to read the letter. It was short, but his love for me was in every line. It was my first love letter.

My dearest Anna,

I should say I am sorry for last night but I’m not. I meant it … every word. There is no happiness for me without you. I love you, Anna. Anna … wait. I know it will not always be as it is now. Think of me as I will be thinking of you. I love you.

Redvers.

I should have destroyed it. I should have remembered that it came from one who was not free to write in that way to me, but instead I folded it and tucked it inside my bodice; and the feel of paper scratching my skin filled me with elation.

I was loved.

Chantel came to my room. She looked startled at the sight of me. “Something’s happened,” she said. “You’ve grown beautiful.”

“What nonsense.”

She took me by the shoulders and dragged me to the mirror. She stood there holding me by the shoulders, and then she laughed and spun round. The letter had ridden up and was showing at the top of my blouse. She snatched it, laughing at me mischievously.

“Give it back to me, Chantel,” I cried in panic. Even Chantel must not see that.

She allowed me to snatch it from her. She was smiling. Then she was suddenly grave.

“Oh, Anna,” she said. “Take care.”

That afternoon the ship sailed away.

Edward was in tears. We stood in the garden watching it for I had thought it unwise for him to go down to the beach.

I said: “We can see it as well from the garden.”

So we stood watching. The tears fell slowly down his cheeks as he wept silently and this was far more moving than when he cried noisily.

He put his hand in mine and I pressed it firmly.

I whispered: “Two months is not very long. Then we shall be standing here watching it come back.”

The thought cheered him a little.

“You can mark the days as they go by on your calendar,” I told him. He had been given one last Christmas and always meticulously tore off each month as it passed. “You’ll be surprised how quickly time can pass.”

Monique came into the garden; her eyes were red and swollen. I thought: She really does love him. And the thought was like a death knell, but loving him or hating him she was bound to him.

She saw me standing there with Edward and she cried dramatically: “My baby! My baby! We are alone now!”

She held out her hand but Edward turned away and stared stonily in front of him. Suka had come out in the stealthy way she had.

“Come in, Missy,” she said. “There’s nothing to be gained by tears.”

Monique immediately began to wail. She came over and took Edward’s hand but he snatched it away and buried his face in my skirt, which was unlike him. He hated to behave like a baby.

“He doesn’t want me,” said Monique bitterly. “He’d rather have Miss Brett.” She laughed hysterically. “And he’s not the only one.”

Suka put her arm about her.

“Come in, my pet Missy. Come in.”

Monique’s eyes were dilated, her cheeks suffused with blood.

I said, “I’ll call Nurse Loman.”

Suka looked at me scornfully and led Monique into the house.

The glance she cast in my direction was venomous.

How she hates me! I thought. Far more than Monique does. I believed it was true that Monique rather liked me because I gave her a reason for making scenes.

I was very uneasy.

20

Monique was ill a few days after the departure of the ship, and Chantel was constantly with her.

I told Edward that we would get down to our lessons without delay and that would help to pass the time. He was fascinated by geography and history, and I made a point of dealing with those places through which we had passed and which were more than marks on a map to him. He pored over the blue of the Pacific and found our island a black spot in the vast expanse of blue among other black spots. The names enchanted him; he went about saying them in a singsong voice: “Tongatapu, Nukualofa, the Friendly Isles. Kao: Fonuafoou.” He was going to visit them all when he was a sailor. We had worked out the approximate time of the ship’s return and he had painted red lines about the date. He had been amused by the phrase “a red letter day.” This was going to be one. He had made certain of it by coloring it in red.

He did not like the house; he did not like the food. He liked best to be with me or with Chantel. His mother embarrassed him with her too ardent caresses, and he seemed relieved when she ignored him. He did not like Suka who tried so blatantly to win his affection, but Pero amused him and he liked to tease her; also he liked old Jacques and would climb in and out of the carriage and help groom the horses. He was a little in awe of his grandmother but at least he respected her.

He liked the Island, but I was afraid to allow him to swim for fear of sharks. And I was glad of Dick’s adventure, since he had come safely through it, because in addition to its changing his attitude toward Redvers, I was able to assure Edward of the danger.

We walked a little, usually after the heat of the day. We would go down to the group of shops which were like huts and watch the girls in their long colored skirts making shell necklaces, bracelets and earrings. They sat under a thatch — “a house with no sides” Edward called it — and worked till it was dark; and they were there in the early morning. It was at midday and just before and after that the Island was deserted.

Along by the waterfront were the storing places for the copra and fruit which was to be shipped abroad and by which trade the islanders lived.

“It’s not much like Langmouth,” Edward commented. “And we’re going home one day.”

There were moments when I felt that we had slipped into a normal routine. There were others when the atmosphere of the house seemed unbearable. This would be at night when I lay in my bed unable to sleep, thinking of Serene Lady, wondering where she was now and whether Redvers was lying in his cabin, thinking of me. Then I would take out his letter and read it. I could not find a safe place for it. There were no keys to the cupboards and drawers. So I put it in between my clothes and whenever I came back to my room after being away, I assured myself that it was still there.

Boards creaked uncomfortably by night. In the corridor the oil lamp was replaced by a rush light after midnight. I would hear Suka come along the corridor, flap-flap in the raffia shoes she always wore — just a straw sole and a bar across and on the bar were colored strands of straw. They looked very untidy and hers had usually been worn too long. I would hear her pause, and I used to imagine that she came to my door and stood there and that if I leaped out of bed and opened the door I would catch her.

Why? It was pointless. But I could never be near her without feeling those great eyes on me … watching.

I used to look at Edward’s red-lined date and I was sure that he did not long for that day with more intensity than I did, although I wondered what hope it could bring me beyond the joy of seeing Redvers again.

It would be easier, I told myself, when Chantel was less occupied, but she told me that she was afraid to move far away from Monique.

The foolish creature was working herself into illness — which was very easily done with her complaint.

The Island doctor came. He was very old and only waiting for the new man to come out before he retired. He talked to Chantel but she told me that he was years behind the times. And could you wonder? He had been on the Island for the last thirty years.

About three days after the ship left Monique sent Edward to bring me to her; and as soon as I saw her I knew she was in a dangerous mood.

She said slyly: “You must be lonely, Miss Brett.”

“No,” I replied cautiously.

“You’d miss the ship?”

I did not speak. “How strange!” she went on. “The two of them liked you, didn’t they? Dick Callum as well. You don’t look like a femme fatale … I’d say Nurse Loman was more that, and she didn’t get Mr. Crediton, did she?”

I said, “Did you wish to talk of Edward’s progress?”

That made her laugh. “Edward’s progress! He doesn’t want me either. No. You are not content with the Captain. You want everything. You would not even leave me Edward.”

Edward looked alarmed and I said: “Edward, I think we should be working on those maps.”

Edward rose with alacrity, as eager to get away as I was. But she began to scream at us. She was a frightening sight. She changed suddenly; her eyes were wild, her face scarlet; her hair had escaped from its restrictive ribbon and as she threw herself about in a frenzy the words of abuse fell out … fortunately she was incoherent. I should not have liked Edward to have known of what she was accusing me.

Chantel came in. She signed to me to go and I hurried away.

I said to myself: I shouldn’t stay. It’s an impossible situation. I should get away before the ship returns. But how?

I pictured the ship’s coming in. How could I sail away with Redvers and leave her there? Chantel had said definitely with a gleam of determination in her eyes that she would not stay on the Island. When the ship came back she would go with it. And I must go with her too.

But how could I? And where to? Could I sail back to England with Redvers? I knew that would be madness.

I washed my hands and changed my dress. The doctor came. Chantel had sent for him. It was a bad attack this time.

As I let down my hair and was combing it, my door slowly opened. I saw Suka in the looking glass, standing there. She looked murderous and I thought she had come to do me some harm.

How she hated me!

She said: “Missy Monique is very ill.”

I nodded. We faced each other, she standing there, her hands hanging limply at her side, myself with my hair loose and the hairbrush in my hand.

Then she said quietly: “If she die … you have killed her.”

“That’s nonsense,” I said sharply.

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away. But I called her back.

“Listen,” I said, “I will not allow you to say such things. She brought the attack on herself. I had nothing to do with it. And if I hear you say such a thing again I shall take action.”

My firm and resolute voice for some reason seemed to frighten her for she recoiled and lowered her eyes.

I said: “Please go, and do not come into my room uninvited again.”

She shut the door and I heard the raffia slippers shuffling along the corridor.

I looked at myself in the glass. There was color in my cheeks and my eyes were blazing. I certainly looked ready to go into battle. I looked again. Now that she had gone my expression had changed.

There was fear in my eyes. I had been accused of murder once before. It was strange that that should happen to me twice.

It was like some eerie pattern repeating itself.

There were shadows in the room but deeper shadows in the house.

Two months, I thought. But there were the long days and nights between.

All about me was a sense of doom.

I was afraid.

I dined alone with Madame. Chantel did not wish to leave Monique and had had something sent up to her on a tray.

Madame was restrained.

She said: “It is hardly worth cooking for the two of us. So we will have a little cold collation.”

The cold collation was the remains of the fish we had yesterday — always fish. It was caught by the local fisherman and was the cheapest food available, that and the fruits, some of which grew in the garden.

It did not concern me. I had little appetite.

The only thing that was lavish at her table was the wine. There must have been a good stock in the cellar.’

The candelabrum which I had admired was on the table as a center decoration but the candles in it were not lighted. There was enough light from the oil lamp, Madame said.

Candles were expensive on the Island, I remembered; I was beginning to consider the cost of everything. One could not be in that house without doing so.

I tried to turn my thoughts from alarming conjectures and give my full attention to Madame de Laudé. How different she was from her daughter. Dignified, poised; her only eccentricity was this economy which was sometimes carried to absurdity. One of the ghosts which haunted this house was that of Poverty.

She smiled at me across the table.

“You are very calm, Miss Brett,” she said. “I like that.”

“I am glad I seem so,” I replied. If she could have read my thoughts she would have changed her mind.

“I fear my daughter is very ill. She brings on these attacks to some extent herself.”

“That’s true, I’m afraid.”

“It is why she needs a nurse in constant attendance.”

She could not have a better, I said.

“Nurse Loman is efficient as well as being decorative.”

I agreed wholeheartedly with that.

“You are very fond of her … and she of you. It is pleasant to have friends.”

“She has been very good indeed to me.”

“And you to her perhaps?”

“No. I don’t think I have had the opportunity of doing much for her. I should welcome it.”

She smiled. “I am glad you are here. Edward needs you and my daughter needs Nurse Loman. I wonder whether you will stay …”

Her eyes were wistful.

“One can never look too far into the future,” I said evasively.

“You must find life so different from what you have been used to.”

“It is very different indeed.”

“You find us … primitive here?”

“I did not expect a great metropolis.”

“And you are homesick perhaps?”

I thought of the gorge and the houses on either side of it and Castle Crediton dominating the scene; I thought of the old cobbled streets of Langmouth and the new part of the town which had expanded through the good graces of Sir Edward Crediton who while he had engaged in his sensual adventures had become a millionaire and brought prosperity to everyone. Even the lady’s maid had lived in the house like a lady and the seamstress had been set up in establishment of her own and her son had been brought into the Company.

I felt a great longing to be there — to smell the cold clean air coming from the sea, to watch the activity at the docks, to see the sails of the cutters and the clippers side by side with the new modern steamers like Serene Lady.

“I suppose one is always homesick for one’s native land when one is away from it.”

She asked questions about Langmouth and it was not long before she brought Castle Crediton into the conversation. She was avid for details and her admiration for Lady Crediton was unbounded.

There was no point in sitting over our meal. We had both eaten very little. I looked regretfully at the remains of the fish and expected to see it the next day.

We went into the salon and Pero brought in the coffee. It was clearly an evening for confidences.

“My daughter is a great anxiety to me,” she said. “I was hoping that when she lived in England she would change, grow more restrained.”

“I could not imagine her being so wherever she lived.”

“But in the Castle … with Lady Crediton … and the graciousness of everything …”

“The Castle,” I said, “is indeed a Castle, although it was built by Sir Edward. You would think it was of Norman origin and this of course means that it is vast. People could live in it without seeing each other for weeks. Lady Crediton kept to her own quarters. It was not like living in a family, you understand.”

“But she invited my daughter. She wanted Edward to be brought up there.”

“Yes, and I think she continues to want that. But Mrs. Stretton was ill and the doctor thought the English climate aggravated her disease. That was why they wanted her to come back here for a while. We shall see what effect it has on her.”

“I liked to think of her there. Comfortable and secure. Here … As you see we are very poor.”

I did not wish her to go on in this strain because her poverty was something which obsessed her and like all obsessions was boring to other people. Moreover I did not believe she was as poor as she professed to be. I looked round the room at the furniture I had noticed before. Since I had been in the house I was constantly finding pieces of interest.

I said to her: “But Madame de Laudé, you have many valuable articles here.”

“Valuable?” she asked.

“The chair on which you are sitting is French eighteenth century. It would fetch a high price in the market.”

“The market?”

“The antique market. I must explain to you. I am not a governess by profession. My aunt had an antique business and trained me to help her. I learned something of furniture, objets d’art, porcelain and so on. My aunt died and I was unable to continue the business. It was rather distressing and my friend Nurse Loman suggested that I needed a change and that I should take this post.”

“That’s interesting. Tell me about my furniture.”

“Some of it is very valuable. The majority of it is French and the French were noted throughout the world for their artistry. No other country has ever produced more beautiful furniture. Now that chiffonier over there. I know it is a Riesener. I have already looked and discovered the cypher. You may think I am inquisitive, but I have a passionate interest in these things.”

“Indeed not,” she said. “I am glad of your interest. So pray go on.”

“Its lines are so beautifully straight. Can you see it? The marquetry is exquisite and those short pedestal legs are perfect. It’s an example of how effectively simplicity and grandeur can be combined. I have rarely seen such a piece outside museums.”

“You mean it is worth … money!”

“Quite a sum, I should say.”

“But who would buy it here?”

“Madame, dealers would come right across the world for such pieces as you have.”

“You surprise me. I did not know.”

“I thought you did not. The furniture should be cared for … examined. You must make sure that it is not attracting pests. It should be polished, kept free of dust. It should be examined from time to time. But I run on.”

“No, no. Polish! It is not easily obtained here, and is very expensive.”

Like candles, I thought, and I was exasperated.

“Madame,” I said, “I am convinced that there is a small fortune in furniture and other rare pieces in this house.”

“What can I do about it?”

“It could be made known that it existed. That chiffonier I was talking about. I remember an inquiry from a man we had. He wanted one and would have been content I believe with something less than a Riesener. He would have paid up to £300. We could not satisfy him. But if he had seen that …”

Her eyes glowed at the talk of money.

“My husband brought this furniture from France years ago.”

“Yes, it’s mostly French.” I went on rapidly, because the thought of inspecting this furniture delighted me, and I would enjoy telling Madame that she was not so poor in worldly goods as she believed herself to be. “I could make an inventory of what is in the house. This could be sent to dealers in England. I am sure with … results.”

“But I did not know. I did not realize.” She was sober suddenly. “To make an inventory,” she said, “that is a professional thing. You would need to be paid.”

How the thought of having to pay for something worried her!

I said quickly, “I will do it for pleasure. It shall be my hobby while I am in this house. Madame, I should not ask payment. I will teach Edward something about antiques at the same time so I shall not be neglecting his studies. These pieces of furniture are allied to history.”

“Miss Brett, you are a most unusual governess.”

“By which you mean I am not a real one.”

“I am sure you are more useful to Edward than what you call a real one would be.”

I was excited. I talked about various pieces in the house. I thought: Those two months will pass quickly because I shall have so much to do.

“Have some more coffee, Miss Brett.” A concession. Usually one had only one cup; and the rest was taken away and reheated for the next occasion.

I accepted. It was excellent coffee and I believe grown on the Island, not in large enough quantities to be exported, but very pleasant for the people of the Island.

She became confidential, telling me how the furniture had been brought over.

“My husband was of a good family, the younger son of a noble house. He came to the Island after he had fought a duel in which he killed a minor member of the French royal family. It was necessary for him to get out of the country quickly. His family sent out the furniture for him at a later date. He arrived here with some money and little else. I met him and we married, and then he started the sugar plantation which prospered. He had wines sent out from France and this house was very different then. I had lived on the Island all my life. I had never lived anywhere else. My mother was a native girl; my father a remittance man who was sent out from England because his family wished to be rid of him. He was charming and I think would have been clever, but he was lazy. He liked nothing better than to sit in the sun. I was his only daughter. We were poor. He wanted to spend everything, on the drink that is brewed locally. It is very potent. Gali. You will hear of it, I am sure. And when Armand came, we were married, and we lived here and we entertained and there were few richer than we were on the Island.”

“There is a social life on the Island?”

“There was … and still is to some extent, but I cannot afford to entertain now and I would not accept invitations which I could not return. There is quite a colony of French, English, and some Dutch. Mostly they look after the industries and the shipping branches here. They go back after a while. Not many stay long.”

She had given me a clearer picture of the Island than I had before. It was in fact a strange picture of the commercial and the uncultivated. Down by the waterfront there was activity in the mornings and late afternoons, and in parts of the Island among the thatched huts many lived in a primitive state.

“My husband was a good businessman,” she said, “but fiery tempered. Monique takes after him in many ways, but not in her appearance. She looks like my mother. Sometimes she looks as though she is of pure Island blood. But she has inherited her fathers impulsiveness and alas his physical state. He had consumption and nothing the doctor could do could help it. He grew more and more ill until he died. He was young. Only thirty-one. And then I had to sell the plantation, and very soon after we started to be poor. I do not know how I manage. It is only with the utmost care …”

An insect with glorious blue wings had come in and began to flutter about the lamp. She stared at it as it flew faster and faster in a mad frenzy.

“He will drop in time. He cannot resist the light. How did he get in? The shutters should keep him out.”

He was like a glorious dragonfly, too beautiful to smash himself senselessly to death.

“Could I put it outside?” I asked.

“How will you catch him? You should be careful. Some of these fly-by-nights are dangerous. Their sting can make you very ill. Some are fatal.”

I stared in fascination at the insect, which with a final gesture of abandon had flung itself against the shade of the lamp and fallen onto the table.

“Foolish creature,” said Madame. “He mistook the lamp for the sun and killed himself in trying to reach it.”

“There’s a moral in it,” I said lightly, and I was sorry because it had interrupted our interesting conversation, and we did not continue with it. Instead she asked me to tell her more about the pieces of furniture I had noticed in the house, and we talked of that until I left her and went to my room.

Monique was better the next day. Chantel told me that the belladonna treatment seemed to suit her, but she herself preferred the nitrite of amyl which she had in England and which it had not been possible to get on board.

“We have to remember that she’s consumptive too. She’s a very sick woman, Anna. I always wonder whether she might … do something to herself.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Take an overdose.”

“How could she?”

“Well, the drugs are here. There’s opium, laudanum … and belladonna.”

“How … alarming.”

“Don’t worry. I keep my eyes on her.”

“But she is not of suicidal tendency, is she?”

“She’s mentioned it, but that’s nothing. People who talk of it rarely do. They like to frighten us, blackmail us into giving them their own way. She’s not the type. But she talks about the Captain not wanting her and Edward too, and that Suka woman encourages her. She’s been worse since she’s been here.”

“Chantel,” I said, “if she did, it would be said …”

Chantel gripped me by the shoulders and shook me. “Don’t worry. I won’t let it happen.”

She could not comfort me. I said: “It’s so odd. Sometimes I think of it at night. Aunt Charlotte’s dying … I can’t believe that she took her own life.”

“That bears out my theory. The people who do are those you’d least expect. They don’t talk of it. Our Monique likes to dramatize herself. She would never take her own life.”

“Suppose she did. There has been gossip …”

“About you and the Captain?” Chantel nodded agreement.

“It would be said that it was because of that. It might even be said … Oh Chantel, it’s terrifying. It would be remembered that Aunt Charlotte died and that I was suspected.”

“You’re working yourself up about something which is not going to happen. You’re as bad as Monique.”

“It could happen.”

“It won’t happen. I promise you. I’ll watch her. I’ll see that she never gets a chance.”

“Oh Chantel, I never cease to be thankful that you’re here.”

She comforted me. I started to make my inventory which I found absorbing. I was certainly justified in my theory. There was a small fortune in furniture in this house, though I was appalled by the condition of some of it.

I called Pero and told her what she must do. Dust was dangerous, I insisted. Insects bred in it. There were termites. I had seen them in the garden — they marched in little armies, but they could be big armies. I imagined them marching over some of this valuable furniture. I knew that they would eat their way through it and leave nothing but a shell.

Pero said: “Polish is so expensive. Madame will never allow me to use it.”

“Shortsighted folly,” I said.

Poor Pero. She was nervous. I discovered that she wanted to go on working in Carrément House where she received a very small salary, but it was more than she could have got working on the sugar plantation or gutting the fish. She was not quick enough with her fingers to make the shell necklaces and earrings. She wanted to be kept on in the house, so she saved the candles and followed Madame’s orders and scraped the plates clean after meals. No food was wasted; it could always be used up. She was a good servant, her one idea being to please.

Since my outburst Suka had seemed less truculent, but often I was aware of her watching me as I examined the furniture and added to my list. Once I looked up and saw her face at the window looking in at me; often I heard her raffia sandals padding away when I went quickly to the door. She seemed to have a new respect for me; perhaps she believed I was going to bring a fortune into the house. I could imagine the garbled stories which Pero and she and perhaps Jacques might contrive between them. The furniture was more grand than they had believed. I was going to sell it for them and the house would be rich again as it had been in the lifetime of Monsieur de Laudé. And the fact that I was to do this gave me new standing in their eyes.

I had seen them looking with awe at the most crude wooden candlestick and old basket chairs.

Pero polished a little now, using the polish very sparingly.

But it was more pleasant in the house and I began to feel more at ease. The days were passing and Monique became more subdued. I had asked Edward to spend a little time with her now and then and to remember that she was ill and that was why she wanted to be assured of his love some days and at others was too tired to see him. He accepted this as he calmly ticked off the days in his calendar and watched with satisfaction the gradual approach of that Red Letter Day.

He was with his mother one day when I slipped out on my own to walk along by the sea. I found pleasure in these solitary walks. The scenery was breathtakingly lovely and I was constantly discovering some new beauty. Making the inventory had had a soothing effect. I could lose myself in the task and forget the unpredictable future and the gloomy present by involving myself in the consideration of a settee or a cabinet which I was sure was the work of a certain artist but which lacked the sign of identification.

It was afternoon; the heat of the day was past, but it was too hot to walk under the sun. I wore a big hat which I had bought at one of the thatch-covered stalls near the waterfront; it was plaited and made of native straw and being wide-brimmed and light it was excellent for the climate.

I had walked a little inland seeking the shade of trees and had rounded the bay and come to a spot which I had not visited before. It was very lovely here. I could hear the pounding of the surf against the shore, and now and then the sudden buzz of a winged insect cruising past.

My attention was caught by a rock in the water, not very far from the sandy shore. It stood erect almost like a human form with blue clear water all about it. I was high on the cliff and I could see for a long way out to the curve of a new bay; there were evidently many bays on the Island. I had heard that it was thirty miles by six which meant that it was one of the larger islands of the group — one of the reasons, I suppose, why it had become inhabited and to some extent cultivated. Far out to sea I could make out in the distance what looked like other islands but which were probably pieces of volcanic rock which had been thrown up centuries before.

The cliff sloped down to a valley which was thickly wooded. The flowering trees were so colorful that I wanted to take a closer look at them; moreover the climb had made me very hot and I longed for the shade they would give me. I would rest a while there and perhaps gather some of those exotic blooms which never failed to enchant me. I kept them in my room in pots which Pero found for me.

I was soon under the shelter of the trees and took off my straw hat and fanned myself with it. Both Chantel and I had acquired cotton dresses of the same color pattern as those worn on the Island, but we had altered them a little to make them more suitable.

Among the trees a mud wall had been built. Strangely it wound its way in and out of the forest in a manner which struck me as being significant. But then I was always finding something unusual on the Island. There was a gap in the wall and I went through this. The trees grew thicker. I came to another wall, high this time. There was some enclosure in there and my curiosity was aroused. I walked round the wall until I came to a gate. I unlatched it and stepped into the enclosure. Inside the trees had been cleared and the grass carefully cut so that it looked like a newly mown lawn. In the center of this lawn was a stone figure. I went closer and saw that all round it were stones in various colors — mauve that looked like amethysts and a dark blue which could have been lapis and pale green agate; there were also big shells. These made a circle round the figure.

And suddenly I was conscious that there was some tribal significance to this and that I had strayed into a secret place.

I was overcome with dismay and I turned and ran from the place. I then began to wonder whether the copse itself was some private place and I had the horrible fear that I was trespassing. I tried to find my way out but I seemed to be farther and farther in the forest. I knew it was not large because I had seen it from the clifftop; but it seemed like a kind of maze from which I could not find my way. There were several paths which were considerably worn by use. I decided to keep to one of these and as I went on turning a bend I saw a house. It was a typical native house of mud and wood built on props with the roof of straw and branches. There was only one story of course but this was a long house and large by native standards.

I was becoming very hot, largely because I was so uneasy. I had the distinct feeling that I was trespassing in no ordinary way and that my presence here would be most unwelcome. The forbidding figure in the ring of stones and shells had made me feel that.

I turned and hurried back in the direction I had come. Every crackle in the undergrowth alarmed me. I had been warned of snakes and deadly insects but it was not them I feared. I was beginning to feel a mild panic.

I found my way back to the walled enclosure and tried to work out what path I had taken to reach it, but there were so many paths and they all seemed to lead in different directions. I tried several. I visualized myself trapped in this maze of trees; then suddenly I saw a glimpse of the sea and I made for it. The trees were thinning. I was free. My relief was intense — far more, I told myself, than the occasion warranted. I was ashamed of my near-panic which had been inspired by that stone encircled figure and the certainty that I was prying into something which was not meant for me to see.

I fanned myself vigorously. I was very hot — far more so than if I had stayed in the open.

It was getting late. I glanced at the watch pinned to my cotton dress. It always looked incongruous there, I thought, but it was certainly useful. Five o’clock. I had been in the enclosure over twenty-five minutes. It had seemed much longer.

I climbed the slope and as I reached the top I saw a familiar figure seated there looking out to sea.

It was Suka. I was certain in that moment that she had followed me.

“Suka,” I said, I hoped sternly.

She turned her gaze on me.

“I see you, Miss Brett,” she said.

“How long have you been here?”

She lifted her shoulders. “I have not this …” She touched her dress to indicate the spot where I wore my watch.

“I thought I was lost,” I said.

“You have been where you should not.”

“I’m afraid I was guilty of trespassing, but unwittingly.”

She looked at me as though she did not understand, which she probably didn’t. Chantel and I often had to simplify our language. “You went into Ta’lui’s land.”

“Is that what it’s called?”

“The land of the Flame Men.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them.”

“They are very wise men.”

I sat down beside her. I was exhausted with my panic, the heat and the climb.

“They dance through flame. Fire does not hurt them. They can do what none others can.”

“I saw a figure … perhaps some sort of idol … surrounded by stones.”

Her face was blank as though she had not heard me.

“They dance. You will see them dance. Fire does not harm them. They came from the Fire Country … years and years ago when there were no white people on Coralle.”

“Where is the Fire Country?” I asked.

Again she ignored my remark. “Fire does not harm them as it does other men.”

I could see that this was some native superstition.

“I shall look forward to seeing this flame dance.”

“They are clever. They are wise.” I had the impression that she was placating them in some way. “I will tell you something. When there was a fire … a big terrible fire … twenty houses were burning and the earth was blazing and no one could stop it, but the Flame Men did.”

“That’s interesting.”

“They fight fire with more fire. They turn people out of their houses and they blow them up. They understand fire and flame. Up went the houses and then there was nothing for the fire to burn. It could not reach the gap between the houses when the fire had taken those in between away.”

“I see,” I said.

“So Ta’lui made a big explosion and the fire stopped. Fire will do as the Flame Men wish. They are very wise.”

I sat beside her, thinking how close she was to the primitive and how so often there was a logical explanation to the miracles of wise men.

I gazed at the rock in the sea and Suka smiled and said: “You like it.”

“I can’t help looking at it. I haven’t seen it before.”

“Ka’kalota has been here since the world began.”

“I daresay,” I said. “Ka’kalota. That’s a strange name.”

That was a fatuous remark because all the Island names seemed strange to me.

“It means Woman of Secrets.”

“Oh,” I said sharply.

“There was a ship once,” she said. “It was The Secret Woman. It disappeared one night. It blew up …”

“As the Flame Men blew up the houses?” I said.

“Two secret women in the bay might have been unlucky.”

I was excited. Was this the answer? Had these strange Flame Men who evidently knew how to handle gunpowder gone out and blown up The Secret Woman? I wanted to know more.

I said: “Tell me about that night …”

“What night?”

“When the ship … disappeared.”

“I do not know of it. It was there, and it was gone.”

“But you said that she …” I nodded toward the figure, “would not have another secret woman in the bay. How could she have made the ship disappear?”

“I do not know. I am not wise.”

“Perhaps the Flame Men have the answer,” I said.

She was silent. Then she said: “She sees all …”

“What?”

She nodded her head toward the figure. “She watches us now.”

“Really,” I said comfortably.

“She watches me … you. She knows we sit here and talk of her.”

“But that is a piece of rock.”

Suka put her hand to her lips and shook her head vigorously.

“The spirit entered her fifteen years ago.”

“Only fifteen. I thought she had been there for centuries.”

“That spirit for fifteen years only. There were others before. She is impatient. She wants to depart. It is the spirit of Caro’ka.”

“Oh?”

“She coveted another woman’s husband and she went out gathering the herb that grows in the woods. She knew how to make it into the brew she wanted and she put it into the cup of her mistress. She murdered and then she was murdered too. We hanged her high on that tree down there facing Ka’kalota. And there we left her and in the morning when we cut her down her spirit was trapped in the rock and there it will stay until another takes its place.”

“That’s a strange legend!”

“It is the secret woman … the woman who loves and covets in secret and plans in secret and goes and gathers the deadly herb and makes a brew in secret. There have always been such women … they live all over the world. They covet another’s husband and they kill, and when they kill they are discovered and hanged on the tree there … near the statue and their souls are entrapped in stone until another takes their place.”

I felt as though a cold wind had swept over me, but the sun was as hot as ever.

Had she followed me here to tell me this?

I stared ahead at the stone figure and as I looked it seemed to take on the distinct shape of a woman. It was always as though it stretched out arms to me … to me! I coveted another woman’s husband. It was foolish. I had panicked in the copse and it was so hot and the air so still and this woman beside me was an evil creature who hated me.

Was she trying to hypnotize me?

I should certainly not allow that.

I yawned. “How tired the heat makes me. I am not used to it. I think I will make my way back leisurely.”

She nodded.

I rose and walked off. I felt an impulse to look round and see if she were following me, to take another look at that stone rock jutting out of the sea.

But the farther the distance I put between Suka and her woman of secrets the more I seemed in possession of my common sense.

Island legends! Was I going to be influenced by them?

21

I couldn’t resist telling Chantel.

“The old ghoul was trying to frighten you.”

“But I must say I felt very uneasy. It was straying into that place and then coming upon her sitting on the cliff like that. She looked like an avenging stone figure herself.”

“That’s what she intended. Would you like a nice little pill to calm you?”

“No thank you. I’m perfectly calm.”

“As ever!” She smiled. “Or … almost ever. Anna, you’re not yourself since we came here. You’re allowing yourself to be bothered.”

“It’s this place. It’s so strange.”

“You were born in India. You ought to be able to adjust yourself. You can’t expect the place to be run like an English town, can you?”

“Everything seems so strange here. There’s a hidden barbarity.”

“Without the conventions imposed by our dear Queen.” She spoke ironically. “Don’t fret, we shan’t be here much longer.”

“What of Monique when you are gone?”

She shrugged. “I was engaged to bring her out here. I gave no guarantee that I would stay. She could die tomorrow but on the other hand she may live for years. I do not want to waste my golden youth in this place I do assure you. So don’t fret. You and I will be leaving here on the good ship Serene Lady, depend upon it.”

“I believe you have some secret plan.”

She hesitated. Then she said, “I feel it in my bones. Did I ever tell you, Anna, that I have a very reliable set of bones?”

Talking with Chantel after Suka was like coming back to civilization and sanity.

She went on: “You do want to leave here, Anna?”

“I should feel quite desperate if I were left here. It would be like being shut away, imprisoned. Chantel, what will your patient be like when her husband goes away for a long time?”

“Murderous,” said Chantel lightly.

“I might try to find a job in Sydney.”

“Why? But I don’t need to ask. You are deeply involved with your Captain, aren’t you? And being you, Anna, you have come to the conclusion that the only decent thing to do is to get out of his life … quickly.”

I did not answer and she murmured: “Poor Anna! But you’ll get over it. I promise you you will.”

“I could put an advertisement in the papers.”

“You’re panicking, Anna.”

“I think I am. It’s that woman Suka and what she said about the stone figure. Suppose something happened. Suppose Monique died and …”

I could not go on and Chantel said: “I wouldn’t let it happen. Not the way you think it might. I wouldn’t let it.”

“You talk as though you are all powerful. That woman is threatening me in some way. And Monique hates me. What if she killed herself and made it appear that I …”

“Anna! What a notion.”

“It seems to me the sort of sick revenge she might take.”

“I repeat I wouldn’t let her.”

“Don’t forget I was suspected of committing murder once.”

“And I got you out of that, didn’t I?”

“Your evidence saved me. Chantel, sometimes I wondered.”

“What?” she asked softly.

“Whether it was true.”

“I told you it could have been true.”

“But you said you had seen her on one occasion get out and look at the cabinet.”

“It was the only way, Anna.”

“So you didn’t see her.”

“I said so. It was possible that she might. I believe she did.”

“But you said you were sure.”

“I had to do it, Anna … for you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“But … you said what wasn’t true.”

“I’m sure it was true.”

“I don’t believe she killed herself.”

“If she didn’t, who did? Ellen perhaps. She desperately wanted her legacy and Mr. Orfey was wavering.”

“I can’t believe Ellen would ever kill anybody.”

“There was Mrs. Morton. She was a mystery woman. What was that about having a daughter?”

“Do you think … ?”

“It’s no use worrying about something you’ll never know, Anna. That’s over. Don’t let it worry you now.”

“It’s something one never forgets. I almost felt guilty. And it comes back to me now. I thought I’d forgotten it. I should have known I never should. But I thought I had. And now this place and Suka and her hints …”

“You were an heiress then, little knowing that it was debts you were inheriting. And now you are in love with another woman’s husband. Anna, what dramatic situations you get yourself into.”

I was silent. Then I burst out: “I shouldn’t have come. I’ll have to get away. It’s the only thing to do. I’m afraid of what will happen if I stay. I sometimes feel that there is a great threat growing bigger and bigger every day. It’s getting nearer and nearer. And when you talk of her threatening to take her life …”

She took me by the shoulders and shook me.

“Anna. Stop it, or I shall have to slap your face. The treatment for hysteria. I never thought I should have to give it to you. That foolish old Suka has got on your nerves. She’s a silly old woman. Take no notice of her. Listen to me. When Serene Lady comes in we are leaving on her, you and I. You’ve nothing to fear. I’ll see that Monique behaves well till then. It’s less than five more weeks. Half our stay has gone. We are going to Sydney, the pair of us. You will be with me. I will take care of you. I will make you my companion and I’ll find a rich husband for you and you’ll forget all about your Captain.”

“You … Chantel. And how?”

“Fairy Godmother. I shall turn the pumpkin into a coach and hey presto Prince Charming will appear.”

“It’s nonsense!” I said.

“Listen Anna, get the Captain out of your mind. But for him you’d be enjoying this adventure now. You’d have nothing to worry about. It’s only because of this absurd passion. What is it? He came to the Queen’s House. You were lonely. Aunt Charlotte was maddening and he seemed romantic. You endowed him with qualities he doesn’t possess. You’re living in a dream. He’s not the Captain of Romance you imagine him to be.”

“What do you know of him?”

“I know that he came to you in the beginning and he did not tell you that he had a wife. He led you to expect …”

“He led me to expect nothing.”

“You defend him. He’s weak and selfish and wants a good time. He is tired of his wife and fancies a romance with you. Don’t you see that even if he were free and you married him he would soon be tired of you?”

I was shattered. I had never heard her talk like that before.

She said: “He’s not good enough for you, Anna. I know. Listen, in time you’ll forget. It’s because you have seen little of the world. I know it is true. In time I’m going to make you see this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s the most utter nonsense in any case. How are you going to defend me? By chance we are together now, but we both have to earn our livings, don’t we? If we left here it’s hardly likely that we would find positions together again.”

She laughed.

I cried angrily because I almost hated her for the manner in which she had spoken of Redvers. “You talk as though you’re some Oracle … some all powerful goddess.”

Again she laughed and she turned on me, her eyes blazing. “I’ll tell you something, Anna, something that will startle you. I am not the poor little nurse you think me. I am rich because I have a rich husband. I didn’t mean to tell you yet but you’ve goaded me into it. I married Rex before we left England.”

“You … married … Rex.”

“I married him.”

“Secretly!”

“Certainly secretly. We have to placate my obstinate old mother-in-law. We have to make her see what an excellent match her son has made.”

“But you never said so.”

“It had to be a secret, for obvious reasons. We married on the spur of the moment when we knew Rex was going to Australia. That was why I came out, and I couldn’t leave you behind, could I? Everything worked out to suit us, and that’s the way it is going to be in future. Oh Anna, my dearest Anna, you are to me as a sister. I always wanted a sister.”

“You had sisters.”

She grimaced. “We weren’t in tune. You are the sister I want. You have nothing to be afraid of. When Serene Lady comes here I shall go to Sydney and you with me. Rex is there. From Sydney we shall write to tell Lady Crediton that we are married and in time she’ll see reason.”

“And Helena Derringham?”

“She hadn’t a chance once he’d seen me.”

She began to laugh. “There, you’re a witch, Anna. You’ve got the secret out of me. I didn’t intend to tell you yet. You’re so confoundedly analytical. You’ll want to know details of this and that. But I had to comfort you, didn’t I? It seems to be my mission in life. Comforting you!”

I was completely and utterly bewildered.

I imagined that no sooner had Chantel told me her secret than she regretted it. I must not whisper a word to anyone, she told me. It was our secret and she knew she could trust me.

Of course she could trust me, I retorted.

“We trust each other, Anna,” she said.

“Do we?” I asked.

“You’re thinking that I kept this from you. Only because I had to.”

“In your journal you gave no indication.”

“How could I, when it had to be an absolute secret.”

“But I thought we were to be absolutely truthful to each other.”

“So we were, but this was something I dared not tell. I had sworn to Rex. You understand, Anna?”

I said I did but I was disturbed. There was something else. It was the first time she had admitted that she had fabricated the story of Aunt Charlotte’s being able to walk when impelled by some great desire. It was the very pivot on which the evidence against me had been quashed.

It seemed that I owed her even more than I had believed. And although I knew that she had done it for my sake I was uneasy because she had done it.

I tried to comfort myself. I was getting on with my inventory, and I was watching the calendar as closely as Edward was. I was wondering what was really going to happen when Serene Lady arrived. Chantel was going to join Rex in Sydney; they were going to openly announce their marriage; they were going to write to Lady Crediton. And Chantel would be the future mistress of Castle Crediton.

I thought of her and Rex and why I had not seen his complete absorption in her. They were married; it was for this reason that he could leave her knowing that he would not lose her by doing so. I wondered what Helena Derringham was thinking and if he had confessed to her as Chantel had to me.

I tried to be with her as much as possible. I never went near Monique’s rooms if I could help it. I was always afraid that she would be reminded of her grievance against me and start a scene.

So I asked Chantel to come to my room, which she did often. She would lie on my bed while I sat in the armchair and she would laugh at me and what she called my simplicity which, she hastened to explain, was what she liked.

“How could you bear to be parted all this time from your husband?” I asked.

“Only because there is a fortune at stake. My stern old mother-in-law needs to be wooed. Don’t forget she had chosen Helena Derringham as her daughter-in-law and she hates to be thwarted.”

“And how are you going to pacify her?”

“Rex will do well in Sydney. He will show her that we don’t need the Derringhams. We can do very well without them.”

“He must hate being separated from you. I wonder he agreed to it.”

“He didn’t. He wanted to tell her right away and take the consequences. But I said no. We must not be foolish.”

“And he … obeyed you?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t that rather … weak?”

“Of course,” she repeated.

“I should have thought you would have loved a strong man.”

“That is where you think along conventional lines, my dear Anna. I could only love a weak man, because I am strong enough for one family.”

I laughed at her. “You always amuse me,” I said. “But I can’t help thinking of your journal. You didn’t tell the truth.”

She lifted a hand. “I swear I told the truth and nothing but the truth. You note the omission. The whole truth. Truth is not a straight line. It’s an enormous globe with hundreds of facets. One of these contained my marriage to Rex. You didn’t see it because it was turned the other way.”

“I can’t believe it, Chantel.”

“My marriage? Why not?”

“You’ll be the mistress of Castle Crediton.”

“I always wanted to be.”

“Was that why … ?”

“Now you are becoming too inquisitive. I’m very satisfied with my husband. When I return to Sydney I shall go to him and we shall write to his Mamma and tell her what has happened. She will be shocked, horrified, and then she will realize that she must be resigned and in a very short time she will be admitting to herself if to no one else that Rex has made the perfect match after all. Imagine me, Anna, seated at the head of the table in black velvet — or perhaps green velvet would be more becoming — sparkling with diamonds. Lady Crediton, for of course he will have his title in due course.”

“So you have decided on that too?”

“I have. And he’ll be a baron. None of your knights. I want my son to be the second baron. I shall learn about the business too, just as my dear Mamma-in-law did. And Anna, my dear Anna, there will always be a home for you at the Castle if you need it.”

“Thank you.”

“And my first duty will be to get you married. I shall give balls for you. You shall be known as my sister. Don’t be afraid that I shall make a poor relation of you. I shall want to make up to you for everything …”

She stopped and smiled at me.

I said: “You are an adventuress, Chantel.”

“What’s wrong with adventure? Sir Francis Drake, Christopher Columbus, they were adventurers and the world applauded them. Why shouldn’t I set out on my own voyage of discovery?”

“You never think that you could possibly fail?”

“Never,” she cried vehemently.

I was glad for her, and I laughed at myself for worrying about her loss of Rex. She was right. I was a simpleton. And she was right when she said that she achieved what she set out to do.

There was one thing I noticed in her conversation though; she always talked as though Redvers did not exist. She was determined to take me out of his reach. Dear Chantel! Her concern for me — while she planned such glorious adventures for herself — was touching.

It was late afternoon. I had been out for a short walk and had come back to my room to wash before dinner. As soon as I entered the room I had the odd feeling that everything was not as I had left it. Someone had been here. I dusted it myself so there was no need for Pero to come in. What was it? The cushion which had been on the Louis XV chair was now on one of the crude wooden chairs. I had not left it there. I was certain of that because I was always conscious of that chair. So someone had moved it.

It was not important. Pero could have come in, disturbed the cushion and put it back in the wrong place. All these thoughts were passing through my mind as I went to the drawer and, in accordance with my usual custom, felt for Redvers’ letter.

It was not there.

So someone had been in my room! They had disturbed my things. I could tell that because the drawer in which the letter had been was not quite as I had left it. Someone had been in here spying and had found Redvers’ letter.

There could never have been such a revealing letter. I knew it word for word. It was engraved on my memory and would stay so forever.

I went cold at the thought of anyone’s reading that letter.

I went through everything, frantically searching. But I knew it was gone.

I thought of Monique’s reading it. I imagined Suka creeping into my room, searching through my things, taking the letter to her mistress.

What damning evidence! I should have destroyed it.

There was a knock at my door and Chantel came in.

“I thought I heard you come back. Why … what’s wrong?”

“I’ve … I’ve lost something.”

“What?”

I was silent.

“For goodness sake, Anna,” she said sharply, “pull yourself together. What have you lost?”

“A letter,” I told her. “Redvers wrote a letter before he left. It was in this drawer.”

“A love letter?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Good God, Anna,” she said. “What a fool you are. You should have destroyed it.”

“I know, but one doesn’t destroy such things.”

“He had no right to send it.”

“Please, Chantel, let me manage my own affairs.”

“You don’t seem to be able to,” she said angrily. Even she was shaken. “If she has it … then there’ll be trouble.”

“I believe Suka has stolen it. She’ll give it to Monique. And she will think …”

“She may not give it to her.”

“For what other purpose would she take it?”

“How can we know what goes on in that mind of hers? She’s an old witch. Oh Anna, I wish this hadn’t happened.” She bit her lip. “I’ll find out if she has it. And if I find it, Anna, I’m going to tear it up. I’m going to burn it and see the end of it with my own eyes.”

“What shall I do, Chantel?”

“Nothing. We’ll just have to wait. Are you sure you’ve searched everywhere?”

“Everywhere.”

“I wish,” she said, “that we were out of this place. I wish I had you safe in Sydney. For Heaven’s sake don’t give any sign that you’re uneasy. It may be that Suka couldn’t read it. I’m sure she can’t read. If she hasn’t yet given it to Monique, we must get it and destroy it before she does.”

I felt limp with apprehension; but the fact that Chantel knew was of some small comfort.

That night Monique had a very bad attack and I was certain that she had seen the letter.

I felt sick with anxiety, wondering what would happen next.

I lay in my bed sleepless and it was midnight when the door softly opened and Chantel came in; she was wearing a long white nightdress, her hair loose about her shoulders, a lighted candle in her hand.

“Not asleep?” she said. “Monique’s quiet now.”

“How is she?”

“She’ll recover.”

“Did she … ?”

“See the letter. No. It was nothing to do with that. She worked herself up to a fury because she said Edward never wanted to be with her. She shouted that nobody wanted her and that the sooner she was out of the way the better pleased some people would be.”

“It’s terrifying, Chantel.”

“It’s typical. She talked about you, too. She said you usurped her place and when the Captain returned she would not be here because she planned to kill herself.”

“She said that again?”

“She’ll say it again and again and again, you’ll see. It’s becoming a parrot cry. Don’t take it to heart.”

“And when she sees that letter …”

“Clearly Suka has it.”

“Why should she keep it?”

“Perhaps she thinks it some sort of spell. We have to stop her showing it to Monique. If she did show it all hell would be let loose. I suppose it’s no use my telling you to sleep.”

“I’m afraid it’s not.”

“Well, remember this. In a few weeks we shall be in Sydney. It’s not long now, Anna.”

And that was my comfort.

22

All through the day I could hear the sound of distant drums. They unnerved me. They seemed to me as though they heralded some fearful climax. It was a week since I had lost the letter and Monique had given no sign that she had seen it. Chantel said that she had searched her room and it was not there. Suka must have it — that was unless I had put it somewhere else.

I was indignant. As if I would.

“Of course not,” said Chantel, faintly mocking. “You’d think it too precious.”

But she was worried as always by my relationship with Redvers.

And now the great feast day was with us. There was an air of tension throughout the house — indeed throughout the Island. People were already converging from all sides and as soon as it was sunset the great celebration would begin. In each native house great vats of Gali had been stored and these would be brought out when the feasting started.

Carts, the sides of which were decorated with branches of leaves, had been trundling up to that cliff where I had come upon Suka sitting staring at the rock in the water. This was where the feast would take place and the dances performed.

Madame had explained it all to me. We should not join in until after the feast which was for islanders only. We would go later and we would drink Gali from coconut shells and she advised us to drink sparingly as it was very potent. We should find the dances interesting she was sure, and in particular the flame dance which was the great event of the evening.

“It is really well worth seeing,” she said. “It’s a tradition. The secret is passed down from generation to generation.”

“I have heard of these Flame Men,” I said.

“It’s one of the sights of the Island. They will perform it only once a year. I suppose they think it would lose its importance if it were done too frequently.”

“Do the drums go on all day?” I asked.

“All day and all night.”

I shivered involuntarily.

“You do not like them?”

“I don’t know what it is. There’s something ominous about them.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that. They say it is only the guilty who fear the beat of the drums.”

“They say that.”

“My dear Miss Brett, they say many strange things.”

Guilty, I thought. Guilty of loving another woman’s husband. Every morning when I awoke I wondered what the day would hold for me. By night I dreamed often of Aunt Charlotte. I could not have been more haunted by Aunt Charlotte’s death if I had been guilty of killing her.

And I asked myself, if I stayed with Chantel, how could I avoid meeting Redvers? It was strange how Chantel refused to consider this and always seemed to behave as though he did not exist.

Lucky Chantel, who had married the man of her choice!

The drums had started again. I pictured it … the scene on the cliff, the sound of the surf on the golden sand, the dark figure of the Woman of Secrets waiting for a spirit which she could capture that she might escape.

I wished that Serene Lady was already in the bay.

That night we rode to the spot in the carriage. Monique was with us. Chantel had not wished her to come but she had grown hysterically imperious and Chantel gave way. She wore a long white flowing dress and red hibiscus in her hair which was loose all about her shoulders. Her eyes were alight with excitement. She looked completely Polynesian, like the spirit of the Island. Her eyes mocked me. It amused her, I knew, to witness my discomfiture; I think she thought it a joke that one so prim as I should be the “other woman” in her drama.

Chantel wore green — long and flowing. She had bought the dress on the Island and although the material was not rich it was soft and clinging and became her. She had plaited her hair and the thick braid was over one shoulder. I had not bought anything for the occasion. I wore my blue silk dress and my hair piled on top of my head in the normal way.

We rattled along the road and left the carriage with the others. We then walked up the slope to that plateau on which the dancing was already taking place. I had seen some of the native dances before. They were often performed near the waterfront on those “houses without walls” which were really platforms covered with a roof of leaves and branches to keep off the sun.

The music was played on the guitar-like instruments with which I had become familiar. We sat down on the rug which we had brought for the purpose and coconut shells of Gali were handed to us. One sip — which I took warily — was enough to make one’s veins feel as though fire was running through them. I knew it was highly intoxicating.

I glanced at Chantel beside me, her lovely eyes dilated. She was interested and amused, but I believed she was elated because she was thinking that she would soon be in Sydney with Rex.

Oh, lucky Chantel!

We applauded the dances, clapping our hands in the slow rhythmic way they did on the Island. They seemed interminable, those dances, and it was not very comfortable sitting on the rug.

But when the time came for the flame dance the excitement was so fierce that I caught it. I knelt as so many did and was unaware of my aching knees. Two young men were stripped to the waist and wore loin-cloths only trimmed with flame-colored beads that flickered in the torchlight. Round their necks were rows of beads — red beads; on their arms more red beaded bangles; on their heads were beaded bandeaux of the same glittering red.

The dark sky was dotted with thousands of brilliant stars; the moon threw its pale yellow light on the great circle — dark faces, pale faces, all intent. I was aware of the scent of flowers, the pungent smell of the torches, the flaring light from them, the faint buzz of insects fatally attracted to the flame.

And the flame dancers were waiting. Their torches were brought ceremoniously to them by their old father — two for each man; the music started and the dance began. At first they twirled the flaming torches lightly; they threw them up into the air and caught them effortlessly. They stamped as they danced and threw the flaming sticks through the air, high up to fall and be caught as they fell. This could be done by any man who was ready to train for it. The real flame dance had not begun.

I do not know how they did it. They were so quick, so skillful. I only knew that at times we saw what appeared to be whirling balls of fire and inside them were the all but naked bodies of the dancers. They danced wildly, madly, and again and again the watchers caught their breath; they did not believe any man could be in the midst of such flame and be unhurt.

As the music slackened the balls of flame moved more slowly and it was seen that there were four flaming torches and two dancing men. We were spellbound.

This was the miracle the Flame Men had learned in the Fire Country and brought with them to Earth to be danced by none but men of their blood.

It was over. For one second there was a hushed and impressive silence, and then the wild applause broke out, the slow rhythmic clapping and the sudden shout “Kella Kella Ta’lui.”

It went on and on. There was an excited buzz of conversation. It was not natural. They had witnessed a miracle; the flame had grown cool for the sake of the Flame Men.

Chantel looked at me and grinned. I was afraid she was going to say something flippant and although her words might not have been understood, her mood might.

But there was a rustle of excitement. The two Flame Men were leading out a boy.

He was the son of one of them and he was going to dance the flame dance for the first time. As the son of his father the flame would grow cold for him too.

I felt my heart start to beat wildly. He looked so small and pathetic standing there in his little red-beaded ornaments, and with dawning horror I was certain that he was afraid.

I felt an impulse to stand up and shout: “This must not be.” But I did not. I knew I could not. The boy was going to perform as his elders had, and I knew that I was going to sit there in an agony of apprehension because I could sense his fear.

He stepped forward. Two torches were handed to him. He took them. He twirled them; he threw them into the air and caught them. I felt better. He was as agile as his elders.

The music had started — slowly at first but building up to a crescendo. The torches started to whirl, they were turning themselves into a ball of flame.

He can do it, I thought. They have taught him well.

Again that spellbound silence — the brilliant night sky, the impressive silence, and all eyes on that whirling ball of fire.

And then it happened, the most fearful scream I had ever heard.

One of the torches shot into the air and the other followed and we saw the writhing figure, the flames enveloping his body, his hair on fire. He looked like a flaming torch himself.

Chantel was up. She was dragging the rug on which she had been sitting; she had reached the boy, wrapped him in the rug and was beating out the flames with her hands.

I was moved. It was a wonderful sight, but most of all because it was Chantel, Chantel the angel of mercy.

People were rushing forward. The two men in their glittering red ornaments were screaming.

I heard Chantel say in that authoritative tone of hers: “I’m a nurse. Stand aside.”

The boy who had been shrieking in pain stopped suddenly. I thought he was dead.

Chantel commanded one of the men to carry him into the nearest house, which was their own. She turned to me. “Go back and bring my bag, quick as you can.”

I didn’t wait for any more. Jacques went with me to the carriage. He drove the horses back to the house with a speed that must have been very unfamiliar to them. I ran to her room, picked up the bag in which she kept her remedies and came out to the carriage.

All the way back memories of the boy’s screams kept ringing in my ears.

We came to the house by a different route from that which I had taken on the day I had trespassed. The doctor was there, but considerably fuddled by too much Gali and it was Chantel who was in command.

She took the bag from me. “Don’t leave, Anna,” she commanded. “Wait for me.”

I sat down on a stool. I kept thinking of the boy. I had known he was afraid. He was only a child really, and it was cruel to have submitted him to such an ordeal. And how magnificent Chantel had been in her flowing green and the plait over her shoulder.

It was hot in the room and I stepped out into the open. The trees looked eerie in the moonlight. The scent of their blossoms filled the air.

I thought, if he lives Chantel will have saved his life and we shall not have come to the Island in vain.

I walked round the house thinking of these things. I had no desire to go in again; it was much more pleasant outside. But after a while it occurred to me that Chantel might be waiting for me, so I went in. It was some moments before I realized that I had not returned through the door by which I had left. I groped my way across a floor on which I could faintly see rush mats. I was in a dark passage. This was not the way. I went through a room telling myself that I would get out of the house and walk round until I found the door by which I had left. The last thing I wanted to do was walk into the room where Chantel and the boy were. I must find my way back as carefully and silently as possible.

I groped my way along the passage and I saw in the dimness a door. I listened for the sound of voices. There was no sound. I tapped gently. There was no answer, so cautiously I opened the door hoping to find the room in which I had first waited.

But I was wrong. Two small rush lights were burning in this room. I caught my breath because it was arranged like that walled space I had seen out of doors. In the center of the room was a figure and round it a ring of glittering stones. One stone, larger than the rest, twinkled in the rush light; it seemed alive with red fire. But perhaps I was still seeing that nightmare outside. I felt as though I were impelled forward. The figure in the center was different from the one which I had seen outside; there was a look of familiarity about it.

I went close to it, stepping over the ring of stones. I knew it well. I had seen it many times. I had first discovered it in the escritoire which had come from Castle Crediton; I had kept it in my room; I still had it. It was the figurehead of The Secret Woman; only this was no replica. This was the real thing.

Her face was bland and smiling; her hair long as though flowing in a breeze and on her robes were the words “The Secret Woman”.

I could not believe that this was really so. A crude wooden stand had been made to support the figurehead and the surrounding stones sparkled with red and blue fire.

Then a blinding understanding came to me.

These were the Fillimore diamonds.

In the early morning we came back to Carrément. I was longing to tell Chantel about my find but I must wait until we were alone. She was in an exalted mood because she believed she had saved that boy’s life, and undoubtedly it was her prompt action which had enabled her to beat out the flames. She talked of him. Everything had happened so quickly; he was not really so badly burned; his legs and arms would carry the scars through his life and he was very shocked, but she was certain that he would recover.

“Chantel,” I said, “you were magnificent.”

“I was ready,” she said. “I knew it was going to happen. No one could perform such a dance without the certainty that he was going to succeed; and that boy was afraid.”

“I sensed that too, but I was not prepared.”

“In fact,” said Chantel, “I was ready with the rug. That was why I reached him so soon, but I think when anything like that happens one acts without thought. What a sight … that poor child a mass of flame!”

“I shall never sleep tonight,” I said, “or what is left of it.”

“Nor I,” she replied.

When we reached the house Madame was waiting for us.

“What of the boy?” she asked.

“We think he’ll recover,” said Chantel.

“He will owe his life to you,” she said. “It is something he will never forget.”

Chantel smiled. “He’s shocked,” she said. “I’ve got him sleeping now. I shall go over and see him in the morning. The doctor will be there then.”

“But it was you …”

“I had drunk no Gali.”

“You must be very tired,” said Madame.

Chantel did not deny it. We said goodnight to her.

“I must speak to you, Chantel,” I said. “Something fantastic has happened.”

I lighted the candles and turned to look at her. I thought she had never looked so beautiful and in spite of my excitement I could not help pausing for a few seconds just to gaze at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I shook my head. “You look … elated.”

“It’s having succeeded against death. I feel I’ve snatched that boy from death tonight.”

“What a night. But something happened to me too, and I must talk of it.”

I told her of my discovery.

She gasped. “Those diamonds? Are you sure?”

“I feel certain. It was the figurehead. I had seen a replica of it. In fact I have one. And the name was on it … And those stones were all round it.”

“They may not have been diamonds.”

“I feel certain they were. You see, Chantel, if they really are the diamonds it means that Redvers will be cleared of this suspicion. So many people thought he had stolen them.”

Her face had hardened a little. I could not imagine why she disliked him so much. Did she know something which she had kept from me? It seemed strange.

“You can’t be sure,” she said. “There are a lot of weird figures around and stones, well … They sound too big to be diamonds. They’d be worth a fortune.”

“The Fillimore diamonds were worth a fortune. Chantel, what can we do?”

“It looks to me as if they treat it as though it were some sort of goddess. That could well be. They have this story about coming from the Fire Country. It may be it has something to do with that. Diamonds flash fire.”

“I am sure they attach some significance to this but the point is what shall I do? Shall I go and tell them? Shall I ask them how the figurehead came into their possession with the stones?”

“They’d probably be furious because you’d seen it. You were after all wandering about their house unknown to them.”

“Yes, and I’d trespassed before.” I told her about the day when I wandered into the grounds. “Perhaps you could do something. They’ll be grateful to you.”

She was silent.

Then I cried suddenly: “We will do nothing until the ship comes. I will tell the Captain then. I will leave it to him.”

She did not speak for a while; her mood of elation seemed to have passed.

I felt it had something to do with her dislike of Redvers.

The next weeks were the hardest to live through. I was in a fever of impatience, terrified that something would happen to the diamonds — for I was sure they were the diamonds — before the ship came home. I studied the calendar with greater eagerness than Edward did. Even the thought of Redvers’ letter in the hands of Suka or Monique was pushed to the back of my mind.

The whole household knew that we would be returning to Sydney. There was an unpleasant scene with Monique when she demanded to know what I was going to do. Chantel managed to quieten her; since the flame dance incident Chantel had acquired a new authority. I had seen both Suka and Pero look at her with special respect; when we went out I was aware that people watched her in a different way. Some of the European residents congratulated her and wondered why they had not met her before. But the fact was that we were at Carrément where Madame de Laudé lived like a recluse. Chantel was delighted with this attention, I could see. I thought: What a wonderful Chatelaine of the Castle she will make. I told her that when she was as old as Lady Crediton she would be every bit as formidable. This amused her.

I said to her once: “Chantel, it’s a mystery about that letter. Nothing has happened.”

“It’s a good sign. Perhaps it wasn’t stolen after all. What if it fell into your wastepaper basket and was lost that way. It’s probably been destroyed by now.”

“But I was sure that someone had been in my room.”

“Guilty conscience, Anna,” she said.

I protested. “But there is nothing …”

She gave me a quick peck on the nose. “I like to think that you are just a little guilty, Anna. It makes you more human. But stop worrying about the letter. It’s lost.”

I had finished the inventory and had calculated that there were several thousand pounds worth of treasures in the house. I told Madame that I would see that the account of them was sent to dealers, and I was certain that some business would result.

She was delighted; she became quite animated contemplating what a difference it would make.

There was a big scene with Monique one evening and I wondered then whether she had the letter and was holding it for some purpose.

She was going back on Serene Lady, she said. She was not going to stay when we left. And Edward was coming too.

It was necessary to call in the doctor and he and Chantel between them managed to calm her.

Edward believed that he was going with us. I said to Chantel: “But what of Madame Laudé. She will not want Monique to go surely?”

“Madame is thinking chiefly of the fortune you promised her. Edward is delighted at the prospect of going back. He would have been heartbroken to stay on here. What is there for him but his hysterical Mamma, his parsimonious Grandmamma and mad old Suka.”

“Can these matters be so quickly decided? I thought that Monique had come out here to be with her family and because the climate was more suited to her than ours is.”

“No climate would suit her. She would never be happy. That’s part of her trouble. There are too many tensions in her life. Now she is buoyed up by the Captain’s return. She wouldn’t let him calmly sail away with you, Anna, she’s working up for something. I haven’t told you before because I didn’t want to upset you. She talked of little but you and the Captain.”

“Then she has the letter.”

“I’m sure she would have said. And I’ve looked everywhere. She’s even a little quieter than usual, as though she is planning, plotting.”

“Oh Chantel … it’s rather terrifying.”

“She is sure you and the Captain are lovers. She said that you were planning to murder her to get her out of the way.”

“I don’t know what to do, Chantel. There’s Suka watching me as though she suspects I’m going to do Monique an injury. Pero too. Something is building up against me. I believe that is what Monique intends should happen.”

“She loves drama and of course wants to be in the center of it, but there’s a lot of play-acting in it.”

“What if she were to carry this play-acting too far?”

“How?”

“Suppose she killed herself and made it seem that I … or the Captain …”

“No! How could she enjoy the drama if she were dead?”

“If there were a ship that called here before Serene Lady, Chantel, I think we should be wise to get on it. To go to Sydney, to try to find some post there …”

“But you can’t just take a berth on a ship like that. And no ship will be calling in any case. You’re here, Anna.”

“Yes and I feel … trapped.”

“I thought you wanted to stay to tell your Captain you think you have cleared his name?”

“I do but I’m afraid, Chantel. There is something menacing hanging over us.”

“A wild hysterical and passionate woman, a straying husband, and the woman he loves. What a situation and who would have believed it of you, my dear calm practical Anna!”

“Please don’t joke about this, Chantel. It’s a very serious matter.”

“A very serious matter,” agreed Chantel. “But don’t worry. I’m here, Anna, now as I was before. Is that a comfort?”

“It’s a great comfort,” I assured her fervently.

As the days passed Monique’s condition worsened. The attacks were more frequent and one followed another. They were not severe attacks, Chantel told me; but she was alarmed for her patient’s health. She never left her and when she was bad I know she often sat up during the night. She was a wonderful nurse.

She told me that Suka sat in the room watching her with great mournful eyes. “I’d like to get rid of her but it upsets Monique when I suggest she go and I mustn’t upset her when she’s in that state. The old lady’s furious at the prospect of losing her Missy. I believe she blames you. I heard her mutter something. She thinks that if you didn’t exist Monique wouldn’t be jealous and would be content to let her husband go without her. Be careful she doesn’t slip something into your mint tea. I’m sure the old witch has a store of poisons, tasteless in Gali, coffee and the aforementioned mint tea. Tasteless and deadly. The two necessary attributes.”

I shivered and she said: “It was a joke, Anna. What’s come over you? You take life too seriously.”

“It seems to have become serious,” I said.

“Life is real, life is earnest,” quoted Chantel.

“‘And the grave is not its goal’,” I finished, and wished I hadn’t spoken. I hated even to mention death.

“Don’t worry,” said Chantel, “we’ll soon be in Sydney.”

Edward was frankly excited. When Serene Lady came we were going to sail away on her.

How many more days to the red letter day? We counted them, Fourteen, thirteen … and then ten.

Each morning I awoke wondering what the day would bring. I used to open my door and look out into the corridor. Sometimes I heard her shouting and my name would be mentioned. At others there was silence.

And in my thoughts too was the precious letter I had lost and the memory of that room in which was the figurehead of The Secret Woman and what I believed to be the Fillimore diamonds.

Why were the days so long? I was living for the time when I should see Serene Lady in the bay. I would not think beyond that. I just wanted to sail away from the Island and when I reached Sydney I would find some post and reshape my life.

Tension was mounting. I longed to tell the Captain of my discovery. I should be so proud and overjoyed if I had been the one to find the diamonds. I longed for his return and yet at the same time I feared it.

Monique grew quieter. A sly calculation had taken the place of unreasoning wildness which was even more alarming and I could not get out of my mind that we were moving toward some tremendous climax. This Island had been but lightly touched by our Western ways. Beneath the veneer there was something deeply savage. These people believed in strange gods; a stone rock to them was a living thing. Curses and spells were commonplace. And I believed that Suka had marked me down as her enemy because she believed that I had come between Monique and the man she loved.

There was no one to whom I could speak of my deep disquiet, Chantel treated the matter too lightly. She refused to accept it as serious. I believed that her thoughts were far away in Sydney when she would be reunited with Rex. Even the discovery of the diamonds meant little for the clearing of Redvers’ name was a matter of indifference to her. When she talked of the future she never mentioned him. She didn’t trust him. She had plans for me. Dear Chantel! She was concerned for me. I knew she was planning to launch me in society, to make a grand marriage for me. She did not want me to be involved with Redvers. This slipped out in her conversation and although it hurt me in a way I knew it was a measure of her affection for me. She really believed she had to look after me and in her usual determined manner had decided to do it.

I could not look into the future. I could only wait for the return of Serene Lady. So the uneasy days passed and one afternoon when we had all been resting behind shutters because the heat was intense, I rose, opened my shutters and saw it in the bay — the white gleaming ship.

I ran to Edward’s room and cried, “Edward. She’s come. Serene Lady is in the bay.”

23

The events of the days which followed were so dramatic that it is difficult now to remember the exact order in which they occurred. I could scarcely restrain my impatience. I wanted to go out to the ship.

I wanted to tell him of my fears, of the lost letter and most of all my discovery of the figurehead and the diamonds.

But I had to curb myself.

Chantel came into my room, her eyes gleaming.

“There’ll be a scene tonight,” she said. “Missy’s working up for it.”

“She must be delighted that he’s here.”

“She’s madly excited. But she’s got a devilish look in her eyes. She’s planning something. I wish I knew what was in her mind.”

I waited in my room. He would come soon. I put on my blue silk dress and piled my hair high on my head. I had worn that dress many times; my hair was dressed in the usual way. Yet I had changed. My eyes shone; there was a faint color in my cheeks. Would others notice the change in me?

I heard his voice below and my emotions were almost unbearable. What a fool I was! Was Chantel right? Could I trust him? The understanding came to me that it would make no difference whatever she could tell me of him. I loved him and I would go on loving him forever.

I opened my door. I wanted to stand there listening to the sound of his voice.

Then among the shadows I saw the crouching figure. Suka! She was listening too. She had seen me. I could feel rather than see her baleful eyes fixed on me.

I went back to my room. When I get to Sydney, I said, I must find a post. Perhaps I’ll stay there. Perhaps I’ll find some people who are returning to England. But I must get away.

Pero was beating the gong in the hall. It was time to go down to dinner.

We dined as we had on that first night — Madame, Monique, myself, Chantel, Redvers, the doctor, and Dick Callum.

Dick had changed. He was subdued and had lost that air of truculence which I had so often noticed. I was aware of Redvers — in fact I was aware of little else. Now and then I would find his eyes on me, but I dared not return his gaze. Monique was watching us, I was sure. I wondered whether she would suddenly talk of the letter. It would be like her to produce it at such a time.

Conversation was conventional. It centered round the voyage and of course an account of the flame dance.

As we went through to the salon I was able to whisper to Redvers: “I must see you. It is very important.”

Dick talked to me while we drank our coffee but I scarcely listened to him. Madame de Laudé was talking about my discovery of the antiques in her house. Dick was very interested and she asked if he would like to see a French console table which I had declared to be particularly valuable. He rose and I slipped out with him and Madame but instead of following them I went out into the garden and waited in the shadow of the trees. It was not long before Redvers came out.

He took my hands in his and looked at me but before he could say anything I began to pour out the story of my discovery. I said: “You must go to that house. You must make some excuse to see the figure. I am sure it is the figurehead of The Secret Woman and that the stones are the diamonds.”

He was as excited as I knew he would be.

He said: “There’s something I must tell you. Dick Callum confessed to me. He couldn’t get over the fact that I had saved him from the sharks. He’s told me everything — who he is and his jealousy of me. I had no idea. He wanted some sort of revenge on me. I was under suspicion but what greater disgrace for a captain than to lose his ship! He suggested to those people that the ship should be blown up. It was something to do with the name. He arranged that no one should be on board, which was not impossible in his position, so at least he made sure that no lives were lost. But Anna, if you’re right about this …”

“I’m sure I am. And if I have made this right for you, I shall be so proud and so glad that I was that one.”

“Anna,” he said, “you know nothing can be right for me without you.”

“I must go in now. They will notice that we are missing. They mustn’t. I’m afraid of what could happen. But I had to tell you this. I must go now.”

He was holding my hands tightly but I pulled them away.

“Please,” I said. “Go as soon as you can. At least make sure of this.”

I turned and ran into the house.

I had told him nothing of the letter. Later I must do so; but let him first go to the house and discover the diamonds before I told him that I had been so careless as to lose that letter which could be so incriminating.

Madame de Laudé was still showing Dick pieces of furniture and I joined them; so that when we returned to the salon I hoped the impression was given that I had been with them all the time.

Redvers was not in the salon. Monique said that he had business to attend to on the ship and would be away for a while.

Dick talked to me of the voyage and how dull it had been.

“I missed you,” he said. “I thought of you often. It’s hot in here. Let us walk in the garden.”

I asked if he would excuse me as I was very tired; he seemed disappointed.

I sat by my window. There would be some sign from Redvers, I knew. Sure enough it came. I heard the light rattle of pebbles against my shutters.

I went down to him to that spot among the bushes which we had made our meeting place.

Redvers was there. He was elated. It was wonderful, he said. I was right. I had made this great discovery. I, Anna, whom he had loved from the moment he had seen her!

I was caught up in his excitement, and once again I experienced the ability to shut out everything past and future and live entirely in the moment. For years he had been under suspicion and I had dispersed that cloud almost effortlessly and by chance. What did it matter now? I had done it!

It was a wonderful moment. “It’s significant,” he said. “It proves that your affairs are mine and mine yours.”

“I must know what happened,” I said. “How did you persuade them to show you the figure and give you the diamonds?”

“It was not difficult,” he explained. “There was great shame in the house of the Flame Men. One of them had failed. They waved aside the fact that he was only a boy not so skilled in his art as they, and looked on it as the sign of some divine wrath. This gave me my opportunity and I took it. I had to. I suggested that there was an evil influence on the house and I talked of the ship that had been blown up in the bay. I took a pencil from my pocket and drew the figurehead. ‘You took this goddess from the sea,’ I said, ‘and she is an alien goddess.’ They told me that they had been promised good fortune if they destroyed the ship. I knew this already because Dick had told me. And when the ship blew up, the figurehead, as they said, leaped from the ship and floated on the water and came to rest near the rock of the Woman of Secrets. They took that as a sign. So they brought in the figurehead and set her up as they set up their own gods. They told me that in the figurehead was a concealed cavity and in this had been the bag of stones. This convinced them, because their custom is to surround their statues with stones and shells. And these were such bright and beautiful stones. They set her up and waited for the good fortune. But it did not come. Instead there was great misfortune for nothing could be worse than for the fire to cease to be a friend of the Flame Men.

“I have the diamonds,” he went on. “I told them that there would be no luck until they were taken to those to whom they belonged. Ta’lui will destroy the figurehead and I told him that there will be a reward for finding the diamonds which will enable him to set up a new statue. He is completely satisfied. I will take the diamonds to England and the matter which began when Fillimore died of a heart attack will be settled. If only he had told someone that he had hidden the diamonds in the figurehead a good deal of trouble would have been saved.”

“But at last it is over.”

“No one can talk of the fortune I have salted away in some foreign port now. And Anna …”

But I could hear voices and I believed that we were closely watched and it might even be that now it was known that I was in the garden alone with him. I could hear Monique’s voice. She was on the porch and Chantel was with her.

Chantel was saying: “You should come in. Come in and wait.”

“No,” cried Monique. “He is here. I know it. I will wait here for him.”

“Go quickly,” I whispered to Redvers.

He went toward the house while I cowered among the bushes, my heart beating wildly.

“What did I say? Here he is. So you are back.”

“It appears so.” His voice was cold when he spoke to her. How different when he addressed me!

“You look as though you have been having an exciting adventure,” said Monique, her voice shrill.

“I should go in,” said Chantel firmly. “I am sure the Captain would like that coffee you said you would make for him. No one makes it quite as well as you do.”

“Yes, I will,” she said. “Come on, mon capitaine.”

The silence was broken only by the hum of insects in the garden. I waited for some minutes then went swiftly into the house.

There was a tap at my door and Chantel came in. She looked excited. Her eyes were enormous.

“I had to tell you, Anna,” she said. “She has the letter.”

I put my hand over my heart, and half-closed my eyes; I felt as though I was going to faint.

“Sit down,” said Chantel.

“When did you see it?”

“Not till tonight. She was reading it and when I came in she put it on the table and pretended it was nothing. I had a quick glance and saw your name on it. Then she picked it up and put it inside the neck of her dress.”

“Chantel, what do you think she intends to do?”

“We can only wait and see. I was surprised how calm she was. And she has said nothing.”

“She will.”

“I think she will say something to him tonight.”

“But she calmly went up to make coffee for him.”

“I don’t understand this calmness; but I thought you should be prepared.”

“Oh Chantel, I feel terrified of what may happen.”

She stood up. “I must go back. I may be called in. But don’t worry. I promise you, Anna, that it’s going to be all right. We have nearly finished with this place, with all of it. You’ve always been able to trust me, haven’t you?”

She came up to me and kissed me coolly on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Anna. Only a little while now.”

She went out and left me.

I knew that sleep was impossible. I could only think of Monique reading that letter which had been intended for me alone.

A night of strange emotions. This tremendous tension had to break sooner or later. It could not last. That was my only consolation. I must get away, get away from them all. Perhaps even Chantel for she was bound irrevocably to the Creditons. A few weeks now and I should be in Sydney, and there I must find the courage to break away, to start a new life of my own.

I heard Monique’s voice raised in anger and tried to shut my ears to it. A little later I heard footsteps in the garden and looking through my shutters I saw Redvers striding across the garden. I gathered he must have been called back to the ship and that Monique was protesting. Had she shown him the letter? What was she planning to do with it?

I undressed and got into bed but sleep was naturally impossible; I lay as I had often lain in the Queen’s House listening to the sounds of the house.

As I lay there my door was opened silently and a figure stood in the doorway. I leaped up. I cried out in relief when I saw that it was Chantel.

She looked strange; her hair was loose and she wore a soft silk dressing gown of her favorite shade of green; her eyes were dilated.

“Chantel,” I cried, “what’s wrong?”

Her voice sounded high pitched and unlike itself.

“Read this,” she said. “And when you have read it come to me at once.”

“What is it?”

“Read it and see.”

She threw some papers onto the bed and before I could pick them up had glided out.

I jumped out of bed and lit my candles; then I picked up the papers and read.

Dearest Anna,

There is so much you don’t know, so much I have to tell you. I don’t think there is much time so I must be brief. You remember I told you that there were so many facets of truth and that I had told the truth but not the whole truth. You don’t know me, Anna; not all of me. You know only one little bit of me; and you are very fond of what you know, which pleases me. You read my journal. As I said it was the truth but not the whole truth. I would like to have read it through so that I could have rewritten pieces for you, but that would take too long. You see, I didn’t tell you that Rex fell deeply in love with me. You knew that he was attracted by me but you thought it was mild flirtation on his part. You were sorry for me, anxious for me. I loved you for that, Anna. You see as soon as I entered the Castle I wanted to be mistress of it. I saw myself as the future Lady Crediton and nothing else would satisfy me. I am insatiably ambitious, Anna. In almost all of us there is the secret woman who does not appear for her friends and acquaintances, perhaps not even for the man she marries. But Rex must know me fairly well now. It has not changed his devotion to me. You will remember that I was interested in Valerie Stretton; there was the occasion when she came in with her muddy boots. There was the letter in her bureau. I wrote that Miss Beddoes came in and found me with it in my hands. That was not all the truth. I had read the letter; I had read other letters; I had discovered that Valerie Stretton was being blackmailed. I married Rex and when he was to go to Australia I was determined to go with him. He wanted me to go openly as his wife. I was not going to alienate Lady Crediton at that stage. She could have diverted a large part of her fortune from Rex and I wanted him to have complete control. I knew it was better to keep our marriage secret for a while so I put the idea into Dr. Elgin’s head that our climate was killing Monique. Then I made Monique decide that she wanted to go to see her mother. As this meant sailing on the Captain’s ship she didn’t need a lot of persuading. But I had to have you with us, Anna, and poor old Beddoes was very incompetent. I helped to get her moved on. She sensed it. Who would have believed that? But adventuresses learn to watch for opposition in the most unexpected quarters.

So I rid us of Beddoes and got you into the Castle. Anna, I am fond of you. I intended no harm to come to you. I saved you before, didn’t I? And I was determined to save you whatever happened. But I needed you, Anna. Your friendship, I wanted that, yes … but you were part of my plan.

Now this is where I have to tell you something which will hurt you. It hurts me too. I thought I was hard and strong. And you are what shall I say … conventional. Right is right and wrong is wrong, black is black and white white. That is your creed. You won’t understand this and like a fool I’m putting off telling you till the last minute, although I know there is not much time.

I have to tell you why Valerie Stretton was being blackmailed. She was not the only one. Rex was being blackmailed too. Rex is not exactly an honest man, but he hasn’t got the criminal instincts. He’s too frightened. So far and no farther for Rex. I always knew he was weak. Gareth Glenning was blackmailing Rex. That was why the Glennings were taking the trip. They wanted to keep Rex under supervision. They weren’t going to lose sight of him. He was their chief source of income.

And Valerie Stretton’s secret? It is this: Her son was a few days old when Lady Crediton’s was born. Lady Crediton was very ill, so that she knew there was a very good chance of her plan working. Valerie wanted her son to inherit the Crediton empire. Why not? Sir Edward was his father. It was merely a matter of marriage lines. Lady C. had them, Valerie hadn’t. It was not so difficult. She was in the house. She knew when the nurse was resting, when the baby was asleep in his cot. You can guess what happened. She changed the babies and Rex is her son and Redvers Lady Creditons. That’s how it all started. But she did not get away with it. There was someone in the house who knew the difference between the babies, young as they were. It was the nurse. She knew what Valerie had done.

She hated Lady Crediton; she was fond of Valerie. In fact she may have helped her in the exchange, very probably did. The boys grew up. Valerie couldn’t hide her preference for Rex, which was stupid of her because it could have given the game away. It was three weeks or so after the birth before Lady Crediton was able to take much notice and by that time the boys had decided personalities of their own and everyone — except Valerie and the nurse — believed Rex to be the heir.

It’s always unwise to share secrets. The only safe secret is the one that is never told. That is why I did not tell you all the truth.

The nurse fell on hard times and asked Valerie to help her; Valerie did and as the years passed the friendship between them was forgotten and every now and then Valerie was asked for money in exchange for keeping the secret. The nurse had married rather late in life a widower with a son. She could not resist telling her husband what she knew; and the husband told his son. That son was Gareth Glenning. He was smart. He saw that there was a better source of income than Valerie — Rex.

When Rex was approached he tackled Valerie who confessed; he was horrified. He cares passionately for the business, Anna. He has worked all his life with one aim in view: to take it over. Redvers was just one of the captains. He would not know how to manage such a business. His job was sailing the seas. Rex could not endure to lose what he had always thought would be his. So he allowed himself to be blackmailed.

Now I come to the hardest part of all. I have put off telling you this because I fear you will change toward me. Why should I care? But I do, Anna. It’s strange, but I care very much. You see I’m truly fond of you. I meant what I said when I told you that you were to me as a sister.

It was in a way this secret which brought Rex and me so close together. If I married him it would be my concern as well as his and it was as important to me as to him that this secret should never be known. That was the point, Anna, it must never be known. And how could we make sure that it never would be? It was already in the possession of three people — the nurse, Claire and Gareth Glenning. You see even if they died how could we be sure that they had not passed it on to someone else?

We should never be safe; we should live our lives in a state of uncertainty. Imagine it. At any time someone could appear to tell us that they knew our secret. I have often pointed this out to Rex. He saw my point. You can see that there was only one way by which we could be completely safe. The terms of the will — I had looked them up in Somerset House — were that in the event of the death of the heir and his heirs the estate would pass to that other son of Sir Edward’s — believed to be Redvers but in fact Rex. Therefore in actual fact Rex was not the heir but he would be if Redvers and his heirs were dead.

You see, Anna, everything we do has its effect on us. We take some action after a great deal of consideration and when it is done successfully we repeat it without the same qualms; and in time it becomes a commonplace. When Lady Henrock died she left me two hundred pounds; she was in pain; she could not recover; it seemed a kindness to help her to oblivion. That’s what I told myself. Your Aunt Charlotte would never have recovered. She would have grown more and more impossible; your life would have been a misery, and I knew that she had left me a little money. She told me so. I have a way of worming these secrets out of people. I didn’t realize there would be all the fuss. But I did save you, didn’t I? Believe me I should never have allowed you to have been found guilty of murder.

And then of course, the voyage. I had talked of our affairs with Rex. We had discussed them from every angle. I made him see that there was only one way in which we could be safe to enjoy our inheritance, safe forever. And that was if Redvers were removed. But of course there was Edward. Rex is weak, and I am glad he was. I was fond of Edward. Rex bungled that business on the boat. I always said that a ship should be the easiest place in which to get rid of an unwanted child. I drugged his milk. Rex carried him out of the cabin. He was in his burnoose so wouldn’t have been recognized. Johnny spoiled that. But I don’t believe Rex would ever have done it even if Johnny hadn’t appeared. He seized the opportunity of Johnny’s appearance and I know that he was pleased that Edward was safe. It’s harder to kill a child than disgruntled old women. So Edward lived; but I knew we could not ignore him forever. He was not so important yet though, because even if the secret were discovered he would be unable to take his place as heir for years and Rex would be in charge. There would be time then to arrange something. But Redvers was our immediate concern.

Redvers had to die. How? How could a strong man suddenly be seized with illness? That was impossible. He couldn’t suddenly die of disease. But I always adjusted my plans to the circumstances: A man with a hysterical jealous wife; another woman with whom he was in love and who loved him; and the wife was insanely jealous. I’m sorry Anna, but he was no good to you. I intended to look after you. You would have forgotten him quickly. I was going to have you at the Castle, my sister, my cherished sister. I would have found a husband for you; you would have had a happy life. That was what I intended. But Redvers had to die. And I had made up my mind that there would have to be a murderess.

She will not live long. She could die next week … in two years’ time perhaps. I don’t think from the state of her lungs alone she can live another five years. Her asthmatical attacks are as frequent as ever; they are aggravating the lung condition. I knew that this voyage could not do her any lasting good. So, why should she not take this rôle? There would be compassion for her, particularly in Coralle … the sick and jealous wife. They wouldn’t have been hard on her. And you, Anna, you would be involved in scandal again, but I would be there to protect you. I would have power and position, which I longed for, and I would care for you. And although you would be pointed to as the Other Woman, just as you were as the Niece with a Motive — you see that passes. It is a necessary inconvenience in which I had to involve you then, as now.

But I am fond of you, Anna. It is something I never thought possible, so perhaps there are yet more secret recesses of my mind which I don’t understand myself.

So I decided that when Redvers came home he was going to die.

And that is what I intended tonight. I had worked on Monique. I had deliberately roused her jealousy, oh very subtly. I had seen how useful Suka could be. It was going to be easy. His jealous wife was going to murder the erring husband and that murder was going to take place either tonight or tomorrow night, when the Captain was in this house. I was waiting my opportunity. I knew it would come because she loved to make coffee. She was proud of it because it was her only domestic virtue. I had told her that she made it better than anyone else in the house. I only had to wait for the moment. Tonight he had been talking to you in the garden. Suka knew it and she had told Monique, who made coffee for him in her own room where she had a spirit lamp. She made it and I put something in his coffee, Anna. I shall not tell you what. It was something that would act quickly. Something which was comparatively — but not quite — tasteless. He was excited. He was thinking of you. I didn’t think he would notice that slight acrid taste. When she had made the coffee I said that I thought her blue negligee was more becoming than her red, and she acted as I knew she would and went into the adjoining room to change it. I then did what was necessary. I put the deadly drug into the coffee, stirred it well and when she came back in the blue negligee everything was set.

I went away to wait. I was so excited, so tense. I paced up and down my room waiting.

I have never done anything as big as this. It was very different helping sick old women out of the world. I was not entirely sure what effect a large quantity of the drug would have. I must be ready, prepared to say the right thing, to do the right thing when the time came. I was trembling and apprehensive.

I thought some coffee would steady my nerves. I was going to make some, but as I came out into the corridor I saw Pero; I did not want to risk talking to anyone in my state. I did not want to go to the kitchen. I most dreaded seeing Suka. She has an uncanny way of guessing. No, I could not face that old woman — which I might well do if I went to the kitchen — not when I had just made a murderess of her darling Missy.

So I said to Pero: “Would you make me some coffee and send it up to my room. I am very tired. It has been a busy day.”

She is always eager to please; she said she would; and ten minutes later she came back.

I poured out the coffee; it was very hot but I never cared for hot coffee. I gulped down a cup and poured out another … and then … I began to taste that unusual taste.

I looked at the fresh cup I had poured out. I sniffed it. There would be no odor, but a horrible suspicion had come to me. I told myself I was imagining it. It couldn’t be.

But I had to satisfy myself. I found Pero in the kitchen.

I said to her: “You made me some coffee, Pero.”

“Yes, Nurse.” She looked frightened; but then she always looks frightened, always fearful of complaint.

“You made it yourself … ?”

“Why, yes, Nurse.”

I felt better. I realized that my skin was cold although I felt as though my body was on fire. I reminded myself that I must be careful. People were going to be talking about coffee a great deal in this house.

“It was not good, Nurse?”

I did not answer.

“Missy Monique made it,” she said.

“What?”

“For the Captain, but he did not drink it. He was called to the ship. So, I heat it up for you.”

I heard myself say: “I see.”

So now you understand. You can see how one must take every possibility into consideration if one is to be certain of success. This house of economy! It was something I had forgotten. You have to think of everything, and the most irrelevant details can prove your downfall.

And here is your letter, Anna. I took it. I was going to use it. I had not yet put it where she could find it. She will never see it now. It would have been useful, you see. It would have been found in her room and would naturally have been part of the motive.

But everything is changed now. The truth will come out. It is better for Rex this way. He could never have gone through with this without me, and now he will stand alone.

“A long farewell to all my greatness.” You see, I quote to the end. Goodbye to you, Anna. Goodbye to Rex.

I dropped the sheets of paper and Redvers’ letter to me; I ran to Chantel’s room.

She was lying on her bed.

“Chantel,” I cried. “Chantel.”

But she lay still unheeding. I knew that I was too late, but I knelt by her bed, taking her cold hand and crying: “Chantel, Chantel: come back to me.”

That happened more than two years ago, but the memory of that terrible night will never leave me. I could not believe what she had written. It was only the sight of her lying there dead that brought home the reality to me. Redvers took charge of everything. I think I lived in a bemused state for weeks afterward. I kept going over parts of my life with Chantel. I dreamed of her gay mocking beauty. To me she had been the sister I had always wanted; I suppose I had been that to her. She had had an affection for me; there was softness in her; there was kindness; and yet how could she have planned such diabolical actions? The murderess was the secret woman in her, the woman I should never have believed existed if she herself had not shown her to me.

Events happened fast. A week or so before Chantel’s death that old nurse — Gareth Glenning’s stepmother — had died and when she knew her end was near she confessed to Lady Crediton what she knew. Chantel had been right when she had said that it would have been impossible to ward off the inevitable discovery by the blackmailers.

Lady Crediton wanted Edward brought back to England without delay and later I took him back to England but not on Serene Lady.

Lady Crediton received me with some respect. She said that in view of what had happened and the shock it may well have been to Edward — he had become very important to her now — she hoped that I would stay with him for a while in my old capacity for it would be somewhat inconvenient if I did not. So I stayed on at the Castle.

Monique had remained on the Island. Madame de Laudé, with whom I was in communication about her furniture, wrote to me often; she said that the new doctor — a young man with modern ideas — had charge of Monique and was very hopeful of her case.

I had not seen Redvers; he had reached England before Edward and I arrived and was gone again on another voyage by the time we came. He was the heir to the vast Crediton empire but he extended to Rex the same generous treatment he had accorded Dick Callum. Rex remained in the same capacity to the firm that he had before it was known that he was not the true heir, and stayed in Australia for the rest of the year and I heard that he had married Helena Derringham.

Madame de Laudé, who was delighted because I had been able to arrange for the sale of some of her furniture, kept me informed. The Flame Men had received their reward for recovering the diamonds and what was more important they had convinced themselves that it was an alien goddess who had caused the accident so that when the injured boy reached manhood he would lose nothing by bearing the scars of going into battle against an enemy and surviving. They believed that the Fire Goddess had sent their servant in the form of a nurse who now lay buried in the Christian cemetery. The Flame Men laid red flowers on Chantel’s grave at the time of Grand Celebration and had vowed to do this forever.

I often thought of Chantel. My life seemed empty without her. Once I went up North and found the vicarage where she used to live. I went into the graveyard and there I found the grave she had told me about. The stone had slumped to one side and it was scarcely possible to read the inscription on it. “Chantel Spring 6 6.” I thought of Chantel’s mother coming here and reading the name on that stone and deciding that if the child she carried should be a girl that would be her name. I made inquiries in the neighborhood and called on Chantel’s sister Selina. We talked for a while. She did not know all the truth. There had been no need to tell her. Chantel had accidentally taken an overdose of some sleeping tablet, she thought. She spoke of her with pride. The truth but not the whole truth, as Chantel would have said.

“She was beautiful, even as a baby. And she was different from the rest of us. She knew what she wanted and she wanted it passionately. We always said she would get what she wanted. Of course she was so much younger than the rest of us. Our mother died when she was born and I think we were inclined to spoil her, but she was always gay and affectionate. We were so surprised when she took up nursing. She told us she looked on it as a sort of gateway. And as she married that millionaire I suppose that was what she meant. But it didn’t last, did it. Poor Chantel — to have so much and to lose it.”

And I came away sadly and I continued to mourn for her … and Redvers.

I should not stay at the Castle. I had made up my mind that I should be gone by the time Redvers returned. I had to plan a new life for myself.

In making the arrangements for Madame de Laudé I had come into contact with several antique dealers whom I had known in the past. One of these told me I was wasting my time at the Castle. I had an expert knowledge. If I cared to join his company they would have a place for me. I said I would think this over.

I went and sat on the cliff and looked over the river to the docks where the ships lay at anchor; the barques, the barquentines, and the fast moving clippers now being ousted by the modern steamers and I thought of the days when I used to come here as a child with Ellen and listen to stories of the grandeur of the Lady Line.

I had come full circle. And now there was a decision to make. Edward would soon be going away to school; there would be nothing for me at the Castle — besides to remain was to cling to the old life, the life that was over.

How strange is life. Suddenly when one has almost made up one’s mind to a certain action it casually throws an opportunity into one’s path. One morning I received a letter from my tenants at the Queen’s House, asking me to go and see them.

It was almost summer and when I stepped through the iron gate into the garden and saw the waxy beauty of the magnolia tree I felt that I had come home and that if I could not hold that ecstatic happiness for which I had longed at least I could find a certain peace in this house. I knocked; a neat maid took me into the hall. It was furnished as I would have furnished it with the Tudor refectory table and the pewter ornaments. On the turn of the stairs where I had once stood with Redvers to face an infuriated Aunt Charlotte stood a tall Newport grandfather clock. “Tick tock. Come home!” it seemed to say.

My tenants were apologetic. They had a daughter in America who had just had twins and who had wanted them to go out for a long time; they had now decided. They wished therefore to give up the tenancy. They had done the repairs and they would sell the furniture at a very reasonable price; but they wished to leave.

I knew at once what I was going to do. I was coming back here. I was going to buy and sell antiques. I had had the usual commission on the sale of Madame de Laudé’s goods; I had saved from my salary. Was it enough? There was no need for immediate payment, I was told, and I realized that my tenants’ one desire was to get away as quickly as possible.

Could I do it? It was a challenge. I walked through the Queen’s House — up the staircase straight into the room. How beautiful it looked now! It should never be cluttered again. I would begin in a small way. I should put pieces where they belonged. I could do it. I knew I could.

I went to the Queen’s room. There was the precious bed. I turned and looked in the mirror. I remembered how I used to look in that mirror and see myself years hence. “Old Miss Brett. She’s a bit odd. There was some story about her. Didn’t she murder somebody?”

But I could not see that old Miss Brett now. Everything had changed. There was no mystery. I knew how Aunt Charlotte had died.

I knew too that I had accepted this challenge.

Ellen came back to me. Mr. Orfey was not doing so well that she could afford to live a life of idleness. She brought news from the Castle.

“My word, Edith said you could have knocked her down with a feather. So it’s Captain Stretton who’s the big man now … Captain Crediton I should say. Mr. Rex has come home and Mrs. Rex … she’s a bit of a madam. She’ll keep him in order, but Edith says she’s all right at heart.”

I tried to concern myself completely with my business affairs so that I had no time for brooding. It wasn’t possible of course. I had found a new way of life, but I should never forget.

One day Ellen came in with the news. “Mrs. Stretton, I mean Mrs. Crediton, is dead. Out on that island place. They’ve been expecting it for months. It’s what you might call a happy release.”

Autumn had come. There were big ships in the docks. I never tired of climbing the cliff and looking down on them — the ships of the Lady Line into which one woman had crept — The Secret Woman.

I still treasured the figurehead. I looked at it every day and asked myself: Does he still think of me?

Then one evening when the mist was on the river and the dew drops were clinging like tiny diamonds to the spiders’ webs draping the bushes in the garden, I heard the gate open and footsteps on the flagged path.

I went to the door and waited there. He was coming towards me.

I thought: He has changed; he has grown older; we have both grown older.

But when he reached me and took my hands in his I saw that he had not changed. There was the same lilt in his voice, the same eager smile in those slightly uptilted eyes. But after all, there was a change. He was free.

And there, in the garden of the Queen’s House on that autumn evening I knew — and he knew — that the future was for us to make.