The Silk Vendetta

The Silk House

As I grew out of childhood it began to dawn on me that there was something rather mysterious about my presence in The Silk House. I did not quite belong and yet I felt a passionate attachment to the place. To me it was a source of wonder; I used to dream about all the things which had happened there and all the people who had lived in it over the centuries.

Of course, it had changed somewhat since those days. The Sallongers had changed it when Sir Francis’s ancestor bought it just over a hundred years before. He it was who had renamed it The Silk House—a most incongruous name, even though there was a reason for it. I had seen some old papers which Philip Sallonger had shown me—for he shared my interest in the house—and in these the house was named as the King’s Hunting Lodge. Which King? I wondered. Perhaps the wicked Rufus had come riding this way. It might have been William the Conqueror himself. Normans had loved their forests and revelled in their hunting. But that was probably going back in time a little too far.

There it proudly stood as though the trees had retreated to make room for it. There were gardens which must have been made in Tudor days. The walled one was evidence of this with red bricks enclosing the beds of herbs round the pond with the statue of Hermes poised over it as though ready for flight.

But the forest surrounded it and from the top windows one could see the magnificent trees—oak, beech and horse chestnut—so beautiful in the spring, so splendid in the summer, magnificent in the autumn with their variegated coloured leaves just before they fell making a carpet for our feet through which we loved to shuffle noisily; but none the less beautiful when the winter denuded them of their foliage and they made intriguing patterns against the grey and often stormy skies.

It was a big house and had been enlarged by the Sallongers when they came. They used it as a country residence. They also had a town house where Sir Francis spent most of his time and when he was not there he would be travelling through the country, for besides his headquarters in Spitalfields there were factories in Macclesfield and other parts of England. His grandfather had received his knighthood because he was one of the biggest silk manufacturers in the country and therefore an asset to society.

The ladies of the household would have preferred not to be in trade, but silk was more important to Sir Francis than anything else; and it was hoped that Charles and Philip would be the same when the time came for them to join their father in carrying on with the production of that most beautiful of all materials. So because of the family’s fervour for the product which had enriched them, and with a complete disregard for historical association, the words The Silk House had been set up over the ancient gateway in big bronze letters.

I could not remember any place but The Silk House being my home. It was a strange position in which I found myself, and it surprised me that I did not question this earlier. I suppose children take most things for granted. They have to. They know of nothing else but that by which they are surrounded.

I was there in the nursery with Charles, Philip, Julia and Cassandra who was usually known as Cassie. It did not occur to me that I was like a cuckoo in the nest. Sir Francis and Lady Sallonger were Papa and Mama to them; to me they were Sir Francis and Lady Sallonger. Then there was Nanny—the autocrat of the nursery—who would often regard me with pursed lips from which would emerge a little puffing sound which indicated a critical state of mind. I was called simply Lenore— not Miss Lenore; the others were always Miss Julia and Miss Cassie. It was apparent in the attitude of Amy the nursery maid who always served me last at meals. I had the toys which Julia and Cassie discarded although at Christmas there would be a doll or something special of my own. Miss Everton, the governess, would sometimes look at me with an expression bordering on disdain; and she seemed to resent the fact that I could learn faster than Julia or Cassie. So I should have been warned.

Clarkson, the butler, ignored me; but then he ignored the other children, too. He was a very important gentleman who ruled below stairs with Mrs. Dillon, the cook. They were the aristocrats of the servants’ hall where the observance of class distinction was more rigid than it was upstairs. Each of the servants was in a definite niche from which he or she could not emerge. Clarkson and Mrs. Dillon kept as stern a watch on protocol as I imagine would be in existence at the court of Queen Victoria. All the servants had their places at the table for meals— Clarkson at one end, Mrs. Dillon at the other. On the right hand side of Mrs. Dillon was Henry the footman. Miss Logan—Lady Sallonger’s lady’s maid, when she ate in the kitchen which she did not always do for she could have her meals taken up to her room—was on the other side of Clarkson. Grace, the parlourmaid, was next to Henry. Then there were May and Jenny, the housemaids, Amy the nursery maid and Carrie the tweeny. When Sir Francis came to The Silk House, Cobb, the coachman, joined them for meals, but he was mostly in London; and there he had his own mews cottage attached to the London home. There were several grooms but they had their quarters over the stables, which were quite extensive, for besides horses to ride, there was a gig and a dog cart. And of course Sir Francis’s carriage was housed there when he came to The Silk House.

That was below stairs; and in that no-man’s land between the upper and lower echelons of society, as though floating in limbo, was the governess, Miss Everton. I often thought she must be very lonely. She had her meals in her room—taken up grudgingly by one of the maids. Nanny, of course, ate in her own room adjoining the nursery; there she had a spirit stove on which she cooked a little, if she did not fancy the food served in the kitchen; and there always seemed to be a fire burning in the grate which had a hob for her kettle from which she brewed her many cups of tea.

I often thought about Miss Everton, particularly when I realized that I was in a similar position.

Julia was over a year older than I; the boys were several years our senior, the elder being Charles. They seemed very grand and grown up. Philip chiefly ignored us but Charles would bully us when the mood took him. Julia was inclined to be imperious; she was hot-tempered and now and then flew into uncontrollable rages. She and I quarrelled a good deal. Nanny would say: “Now Miss Julia. Now Lenore. Stop that. It’s jangling on my nerves.” Nanny was rather proud of her nerves. They always had to be considered.

Cassie was different. She was younger than either of us. I heard it said that she had given Lady Sallonger “a hard time when she came along” and that there could be no more. It was the reason for Cassie’s affliction. I had heard the servants whispering about “instruments” when they eyed her in a manner which made me think of the rack and thumbscrews of the Inquisition. They were referring to Cassie’s right leg, which had not grown as long as the left and as a result she limped. She was small and pale and pronounced “delicate.” But she was of a gentle, loving disposition and her disability had not soured her in the least. She and I loved each other dearly. We used to read and sew together. We were both adept with the needle. I think my proficiency was due to Grand’mere.

Grand’mere was the most important person in my life. She was mine—the only one in the household to whom I really belonged. She and I were apart from the rest of the household. She liked me to have meals with the other children although I should have loved to have them with her; she liked me to go with them on their riding lessons; and particularly she wanted me to study with them. Grand’mere was a part of the mystery. She was my Grand’mere and not theirs.

She lived at the very top of the house in the big room which had been built by one of the Sallongers. It had big windows and the roof even was of glass to let the light in. Grand’mere needed the light. In that room she had her loom and sewing machine and there she worked through the days. Beside the machine were the dressmaker’s dummies—like effigies of real people … three shapely ladies of various sizes, often clothed in exquisite garments. I had names for them: Emmeline was the small one, Lady Ingleby the middle size and the Duchess of Malfi was the largest. Bales of material came to the house from Spitalfields. Grand’mere used to draw the gowns first and then set about making them. I shall never forget the smell of those bales of materials. They had strange exotic names which I learned. As well as fine silks, satins and brocades there were lustrings, ala-modes, paduasoys, velvets and ducapes. I would often sit listening to the whir of the machine and watching Grand’mere’s little black slipper working at the treadle.

“Hand me those scissors, ma petite,” she would say. “Bring me the pins. Ah, what should I do without my little helper.” Then I felt happy,

“You work very hard, Grand’mere,” I said to her one day.

“I am this lucky lady,” she replied. She spoke a mixture of French and English which was different from the speech of anyone else. In the school room we did a kind of laboured French, announcing our possession of a pen or a dog or a cat and asking the way to the post office. Julia and Cassie had to struggle with it far more earnestly than I, who, because I lived so close to Grand’mere, could deliver the words with ease and a different accent from that of Miss Everton, which did not please her.

Grand’mere went on: “I am here in this beautiful house with my little one. I am happy. She is happy. She is growing into a lalented lady. Oh yes you are. It is here that you will get that which will make you get on in the world. This is the good life here, mon amour.”

I loved the way she said mon amour. It reminded me that she loved me very dearly—more than anyone else did.

She never joined the rest of the household. It was only when she was making dresses for the family that she came down to the drawing room to see Lady Sallonger, which was because Lady Sallonger was too delicate to mount the stairs to be fitted.

Each afternoon Grand’mere took a walk in the gardens. I often joined her then and we would sit in the pond garden and talk. There was always plenty to talk about with Grand’mere. A great deal of it was about the materials and how they were woven and what sort of dresses would be most suitable for them. Grand’mere was at The Silk House to design dresses and to show how materials should be made up in the way most suitable for them. A kind of brake would arrive, drawn by two horses which had come the sixteen miles from Spitalfields to Epping Forest, and the bales would be carried up to the top of the house. I would dash up to examine them with Grand’mere.

She would grow ecstatic. She was very excitable. She would hold the materials to her cheek and sigh. Then she would drape them round me and clasp her hands in ecstasy, her bright brown eyes shining with enthusiasm. We looked forward to the arrival of the bales.

Grand’mere was quite an important person in the household. She made her own rules. I supposed she could have taken her meals with the family had she wished. But she was as autocratic in her way as Clarkson and Mrs. Dillon were in theirs.

Her meals were carried up to the top of the house and none of the housemaids dared show the slightest resentment, for Grand’mere had an air of great dignity and authority. Oh yes, she was certainly an important person in the household. She accepted these services in a different way from Miss Everton, who always felt she had to make sure that she received the deference due to her. Grand’mere just behaved as though there was no need to stress her importance for they all must be aware of it.

When I began to discover that I was different from the other children it was a great relief to remember that Grand’mere and I belonged together. On the rare occasions when Sir Francis came to The Silk House, he always visited Grand’mere. They talked about the materials, of course, and he discussed all sorts of things with her.

It was because of this that she was regarded with some awe by the rest of the household. The top rooms of the house were ours. There were four of them: the big light workroom; our bedrooms—two small rooms with narrow slits of windows and a communicating door between them; and a small sitting room.

The small rooms were part of the old house—the workroom, of course, having been added by a Sallonger.

“This is our domain,” said Grand’mere. “Here we are in our little kingdom. This is yours and mine … and here we are kings in our little castle … but perhaps I say queens, eh?”

She was a small woman with masses of hair which had once been black and now had streaks of white in it. She wore it piled high on her head with a Spanish comb sparkling in it. She was very proud of her hair.

“The hair must always be … elegant,” she said. “Even the finest satin and best silk in the whole world will give you little … if there is no style in the hair.” Her eyes were large; they sparkled with joy or blazed with indignation, or could go cold with contempt or light up with love. They betrayed each and every one of Grand’mere’s moods. They were her great beauty, of course—they and her hair. She had long slender fingers, and I shall always remember their darting movements over patterns she had made as she cut out the dress materials on the big table in the workroom. She was so slight that sometimes I feared she would float away. I told her this and added: “What should I do if you did?”

Usually she laughed at my fancies but she did not laugh at that one. She was very serious.

“All will be well with you … always … as it was with me. I could stand on these two feet… from the time I was a young girl. It is because there is something I can do well. That is what there must be. Something … anything … better than others … and there will always be a place for you in the world. You see, I fashion a work of art with a bale of cloth, a sewing machine and a pair of scissors… . Oh, but it is more than that. Anyone can work the treadle, anyone can cut… cut… cut. No, it is a little something … the inspiration … the little bit of genius which you bring to your trade. That is what counts. And if you have that … there will always be a place for you. You, my little one, will walk in my footsteps. I will show you the way. And then … whatever happens, you have nothing to fear. Always I will watch over you.”

I knew she would.

It was no hardship for me to learn from her. When the bales came in, she would make sketches and ask my opinion. When I drew a design myself she was delighted. She showed me where I had gone wrong and then put in a few deft touches; it was a design which was used in the end. “Lenore’s gown,” she called it. I always remembered it because it was made of a lovely shade of lavender. Afterwards Grand’mere told me that Sir Francis was very pleased. It was the right gown for the material.

When the dresses had been seen by Sir Francis and some of his managers, they were packed up and taken away. Then fresh bales arrived. There was a very exclusive salon in London where they were sold. This was another branch of the Sallonger silk empire.

I remember well the day when she talked to me and told me how we came to be living here at The Silk House.

I had gone to her perplexed. We had been riding for we had riding lessons every day. One of the grooms always took us. We had begun by riding round the paddock; there was a jump there, too.

Julia was a good horsewoman. I was quite good, too. Cassie could not get on with it. I think she was rather frightened of the horses although she had been given the mildest in the stables. I always kept my eyes on her when we cantered or galloped round the paddock and I think she took special comfort from this fact.

When we had finished riding, Julia said: “I smell something good cooking in the kitchen.”

So we went there.

“You got mud on your boots?” demanded Mrs. Dillon.

“No we have not, Mrs. Dillion,” retorted Julia.

” Well, I’m glad of that because I don’t want none of that mud in my kitchen, Miss Julia.”

“The cakes smell good,” said Julia.

“And so they should … the goodness that’s in them.”

We all sat down at the table and looked at Mrs. Dillon ap-pealingly and with something like adoration at the batch of cakes which had just come out of the oven.

“All right then,” said Mrs. Dillon grudgingly. “But that Miss Everton wouldn’t like it. Nor Nanny neither … eating between meals indeed. You should wait for your proper tea time.”

“That’s hours away,” said Julia. “That one for me.”

“Miss Greedy-Guts, that’s what you are,” said Mrs. Dillon. “That’s the biggest.”

“A compliment to you, Mrs. Dillon,” I reminded her.

“I don’t want no compliments thank you, Lenore. I know what my cakes is … and that is good. There. One for you, Miss Julia. One for you, Miss Cassie. And one for you, Lenore.”

I noticed it then. Miss Julia. Miss Cassie … and Lenore.

I pondered on this for some time and chose the opportunity when I was sitting in the pond garden with Grand’mere. I asked why it was that I was never called Miss, but just plainly by my name like Grace or May or one of the servants.

Grand’mere was silent for a moment, then she said: ‘ ‘These servants are very … how is it… aware. That is it. They are very aware of little things … like who should be called this or that… who should have this place or that. You are my granddaughter. That is not like being the daughter of Sir Francis and Lady Sallonger. Therefore people like Mrs. Dillon … they will say … ‘Oh, no Miss for her!’ “

“You mean I am in the same group as Grace or May?”

She pursed her lips, lifted her hands and swayed from side to side. She used her hands and shoulders a great deal in conversations which was very expressive.

“We are not going to worry ourselves with the ways of such as Mrs. Dillon. We smile. We say, Oh, so it is like that, is it? Very well. What is it going to mean to me not to be called Miss. What is Miss? It is just a nothing. You are as well without the Miss.”

“Yes, but why, Grand’mere?”

“It is simple. You are not a daughter of the house, so you cannot have a Miss from Mrs. Dillon.”

“When the Dallington girls come over to tea and to play with us, they are called Miss … and they are not daughters of the house. Are we servants here, Grand’mere?”

“We serve … if that is servants. Perhaps. But we are here together … you and I… we live well. We are at peace. Why do we worry about a little Miss?”

“I only want to know, Grand’mere. What are we doing in this house which we are not of?”

She hesitated for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “We came here when you were eight months old. Such a lovely baby you were. I thought it good for you to come here. Here we could be together … the Grand’mere and her little one. I thought we could be happy here and they promised that you should have the education … the upbringing of a daughter of the house. But we did not talk of ‘Miss.’ So that is why it is not given you. Who wants to be Miss? You do not. Come, little one. There is more to life than the little word Miss.”

“Tell me about our coming here. Why is it that I have no father… no mother?”

She sighed. “This has to come,” she said as though to herself. ‘ ‘Your mother was the most beautiful and lovely girl that ever lived. Her name was Marie Louise. She was my child, my little one, mon amour. We lived in the village of Villers-Mure. It was beautiful. The sun shone often and it was warm. Summer is summer in Villers-Mure. You wake up and you know the sun will be shining all through the day. Not as here … when it peeps out and goes away again and can’t make up its mind.”

“Do you want to be in Villers-Mure?”

She shook her head vehemently. “I want to be here. Here is where I now belong … and so do you, ma petite. This is where you will be happy … and one day you will not care whether they call you Miss or not.”

“I don’t care now, Grand’mere. I only wanted to know.”

“Villers-Mure is far away from here. It is right across the land of France and you know, do you not—for the good Miss Everton will have told you—that France is one big country … bigger than this little island. There are mountains and little towns and villages … and just over the border is Italy. The mulberries grow well there and that means … silk. These little worms who spin the silk for us love the mulberry leaves and where these grow well, there will be the silk.”

‘ ‘So you have always known about silk?”

‘ ‘Villers-Mure is the home of the silk worm … and silk was our way of living. Without silk there would be no Villers-Mure. The St. Allengeres have always lived there and may it please the good God they always will. Let me tell you. The St. Allengeres live in a beautiful place. It is rather like this house … only there is no forest , . . but mountains. It is a grand house … the home of the St. Allengeres for centuries. There are lawns and flowers and trees and a river which runs through the grounds. All around are the little houses where the workmen live with their families. There is the big manufactory. It is beautiful… white with splashes of colour about the walls for the oleanders and the bougainvilleas grow well there. There are the murer-aies—the mulberry groves—and they have the best silk worms in the world. Theirs are the finest looms … better than anything they have in India or China … which perhaps are the homes of the silk. Some of the best silk in the world comes from Villers-Mure.”

“And you lived there and you worked for these St. Allengeres?”

She nodded. “We had a pretty little house … the best of them all. Flowers covered the walls. It was beautiful; and my daughter, my Marie Louise, was very happy. She was a girl who was made for happiness. She found laughter everywhere. She was beautiful. You have her eyes. They dance; they laugh; but they were never stormy as yours can be, my little one. They were darkest blue … like yours and her hair was almost black . . blacker than yours, soft and rippling. She was a beauty. She saw no evil in anything. She was unaware … and she died.”

“How did she die?”

“She died when you were born. It happens sometimes. She should not have died. I would have cared for her as I have cared for you. I should have made the world a happy place for her. But she died … but she left me you … and that makes me happy.”

“And my father?” I asked.

She was silent. Then she said: “Sometimes these things happen. You will understand later on. Sometimes children are born … and where is the father?”

“You mean … he left her?”

She took my hand and kissed it. “She was very beautiful,” she said. “But whatever happened she left me you, my child, and that was the best gift she could have left me. In place of herself I had her child and all my joy has henceforth been in you.”

“Oh Grand’mere,” I said. “It is so sad.”

“It was summer,” she said. “She tarried too long in the sweet scented meadows. She was altogether innocent. Perhaps I should have warned her.”

“And she was deserted by my father?”

“I cannot say. I was concerned with her. I did not know that you were to come until it was almost time for your arrival. Then it happened … and she died. I remember sitting by her bed and the desolation which swept over me … until the midwife came and put you into my arms. You were my salvation. I saw then that I had lost my daughter but I had her child. Since then you have been all in all to me.”

“I wish I knew who my father was.”

She shook her head and lifted her shoulders.

“And so you came here?” I prompted.

“Yes, I came here. It seemed best. It is always difficult when such things happen in a little community. You know how it is with Clarkson and Mrs. Dillon. They whisper … they chatter. I did not want you to grow up among that.”

“You mean they would have despised me because my parents were not married?”

She nodded. “The St. Allengeres are a rich family … a powerful family. They are Villers-Mure. Everyone works for them. They are the big silk name in France and in Italy, too. So Monsieur St. Allengere who is the big man at the head … he is the father of us all … and the silk families throughout the world they are … how do you say it? … in … touch. They know each other. They compare. They are rivals. ‘My silk is better than your silk.’ You know, this sort of thing.”

“Yes,” I said, still thinking of my mother and the man who had betrayed her and the scandal that there would have been in Villers-Mure.

” Sir Francis … he pays a visit now and then. There is a show of friendship between the two families … but is it friend-ship? Each wants to make the best silk. They have secrets … They show this little bit … and that … but no more … nothing of importance.”

I understand, Grand’mere, but I want to hear about my mother.”

“She will be happy when she looks down from heaven and seees us together. She will know what we are to each other. Sir Francis came to Villers-Mure. I remember it well. There is a family connection … you see. They say that years and years ago they were one family. Listen to their names. St. Allengere … and in English that has become Sallonger.”

“Why yes,” I cried excitedly. “So the family here is related to that one in France?”

Again that lift of the shoulders. “You will have heard from Miss Everton about something called the Edict of Nantes.”

“Oh yes,” I cried. “It was signed by Henri IV of France in the year … well, I think it was 1598.”

“Yes, yes, but what did it do? It gave freedom to the Huguenots to worship as they wished.”

“I remember that. The King was Huguenot at the time and the Parisians would not accept a Protestant King so he said that Paris was worth a Mass and he would become a Catholic.”

She smiled, well pleased. “Ah, what it is to be educated! Well, they changed it all.”

“It was called the Revocation and it was signed by Louis XIV many years later.”

“Yes, and it drove many thousands of Huguenots out of France. One branch of the St. Allengeres settled in England. They set up silk manufactories in various places. They brought with them their knowledge of how to weave these beautiful fabrics. They worked hard and prospered.”

“How very interesting! And so Sir Francis visits his relatives in France?”

“Very rarely. The family connection is not remembered much. There is the rivalry between the Sallongers of England and the St. Allengeres of France. When Sir Francis comes to France they show him a little … not much … and they try to find out what he is doing… . They are rivals. That is the way it is in business.”

“Did you see Sir Francis when you were there?”

She nodded. “There I worked as I do here. I had my loom. I knew a good many secrets … and I shall always have them. I was a good weaver. All the people who lived there were engaged in the making of silk … and so was I.”

“And my mother?”

“She too. Monsieur St. Allengere sent for me and he asked me how I would like to go to England. At first I did not know what to say. I could not believe it but when I understood I saw that it was a good thing. It was best for you and what was good for you must be for me also. So I accepted his offer which is for me to come here … to live in this house … to work the loom, when something special is required … and to make the fashion dresses which help to sell our silk.”

“You mean Sir Francis offered us a home here?”

“It was arranged between him and Monsieur St. Allengere. I was to have my loom and my sewing machine and I was to live here and do for Sir Francis what I had been doing in France.”

“And you left your home to do this … to come all this way to a country of strangers?”

“Home is where your loved ones are. I had my baby and as long as I was with you, I was content. Here, it is the good life. You are educated with the daughters of the house … and I believe you do well, eh? Miss Julia … is she not a little envious because you are cleverer than she is? And you love Miss Cassie, do you not? She is a sister to you. Sir Francis is a good man. He keeps his word and Lady Sallonger … she is demanding shall we say … but she is not unkind. We have much and we must give a little in return. I never fail to thank the good God for finding a way for me.”

I threw my arms about her neck and clung to her.

It doesn’t matter, does it?” I said. “As long as we are together.”

So that was how I learned something of my history; but I felt that there was a great deal more to know.

Grand’mere was right. Life was pleasant. I was reconciled and the slight difference with which I was treated did not worry me very much. I was not one of them. I accepted that. They had been kind to us. They had allowed us to leave the little place where everyone would know that my mother had had me without being married. I was well aware of the stigma attached to that, for there was more than one girl in the surrounding villages who had had to face what they called “trouble.” One of them had eventually married the one they called “the man” and had about six children now—but it was still remembered.

I wondered a great deal about my father. Sometimes I thought it was rather romantic not to know who one’s father was. One could imagine someone who was more exciting and handsome than real people were. One day, I told myself, I will go and find him. That started me off on a new type of daydream. I had a good many imaginary fathers after that talk with Grand’mere. Naturally I could not expect to be treated like Miss Julia or Miss Cassie, but how dull their lives were compared with mine. They had not been born to the most beautiful girl in the world; they did not possess a mysterious, anonymous father.

I realized that we were, in a way, servants of the house.

Grand’mere was of a higher grade—perhaps in the same category as Clarkson or at least Mrs. Dillon—but a servant none the less; she was highly prized because of her skills and I was there because of her. So … I accepted my lot.

It was true that Lady Sallonger was demanding. I was expected to be a maid to her. She was really beautiful—or had been in her youth and the signs remained. She would lie on the sofa in the drawing room every day, always beautifully dressed in a be-ribboned negligee and Miss Logan had to spend lots of t ime doing her hair and helping her dress. Then she would make her slow progress to the drawing room from her bedroom leaning heavily on Clarkson’s arm while Henry carried her embroidery bag and prepared to give further assistance should it be needed. She often called on me to read to her. She seemed to like to keep me busy. She was always gentle and spoke in a tired voice which seemed to have a reproach in it—against fate, I supposed, which had given her a bad time with Cassie and made an invalid of her.

It would be: “Lenore, bring me a cushion. Oh, that’s better. Sit there, will you, child? Please put the rug over my feet. They are getting chilly. Ring the bell. I want more coal on the fire. Bring me my embroidery. Oh dear, I think that is a wrong stitch. You can undo that. Perhaps you can put it right. I do hate going back over things. But do it later. Read to me now …”

She would keep me reading for what seemed like hours. She often dozed and thinking she was asleep I would stop reading, and then be reprimanded and told to go on. She liked the works of Mrs. Henry Wood. I remember The Channings and Mrs. Halliburton’s Troubles as well as East Lynne. All these I read aloud to her. She said I had a more soothing voice than Miss Logan’s.

And all the time I was doing these tasks I was thinking of how much we owed these Sallongers who had allowed us to come here and escape my mother’s shame. It was really like something out of Mrs. Henry Wood’s books, and I was naturally thrilled to be at the centre of such a drama.

Perhaps being in a humble position makes one more considerate of others. Cassie had always been my friend; Julia was too haughty, too condescending to be a real friend. Cassie was different. She looked to me for help and to one of my nature that was very endearing. I liked to have authority. I liked to look after people. I realized my feelings were not entirely altruistic. I liked the feeling of importance which came to me when I was assisting others, so I used to help Cassie with her lessons. When we went walking I made my pace fit hers while Julia and Miss Everton strode on. When we rode I kept my eye on her. She repaid me with a kind of silent adoration which gave me great satisfaction.

It was accepted in the household that I look after Cassie in the same way as I was expected to wait on Lady Sallonger.

There was one other who aroused pity in me. That was Willie. He was what Mrs. Dillon called “Minnie Wardle’s leftover.” Minnie Wardle had, by all accounts, been “a flighty piece,” “no better than she ought to be,” who had reaped her just reward and “got her comeuppance” in the form of Willie.

The child was the result of her friendship with a horse dealer who had hung round the place until Minnie was pregnant and then disappeared, Minnie Wardle thought she knew how to handle such a situation and visited the wise old woman who lived in a hut in the forest about a mile or so from The Silk House. But this time she was not clever enough, for it did not work; and when Willie was born—again quoting Mrs. Dillon—he was “tuppence short.” Her ladyship had not wanted to turn the girl out and had let her stay on, Willie with her; but before the child was a year old, the horse dealer came back and Minnie disappeared with him, leaving behind the wages of her sin to be shouldered by someone else. The child was sent to the stables to be brought up by Mrs. Carter, wife of the head groom. She had been trying to have children for some time and not being able to get one was glad to take someone else’s. But no sooner did she take in Willie than she started to breed and now had six of her own and was not very interested in Willie—particularly as he was “a screw loose.”

Poor Willie—he belonged to no one really; no one cared about him. I often thought he was not so stupid as he seemed. He could not read or write, but then there were many of them who could not do that. He had a mongrel which followed him everywhere and was known by Mrs. Dillon as “that dratted dog.” I was glad to see the boy with something which loved him and on whom he could shower affection. He seemed brighter after he acquired the dog. He liked to sit with the dog beside him looking into the lake, which was in the forest not very far from The Silk House. One came upon it unexpectedly. There was a clearing in the trees and then suddenly one saw this expanse of water. Children fished in it. One would see them with their little jars beside them and hear them shrieking with glee when they found a tadpole. Willows trailed in the water and loosestrife with its star-like blossoms grew side by side, with the flowers we called skull-caps, among the ubiquitous woundwort. I never failed to wonder at the marvels of the forest. It was full of surprises. One could ride through the trees and suddenly come upon a cluster of houses, a little hamlet or a village green. At one time the trees must have been cut down to make these habitations, but so long ago that no one remembered when.

The years had changed the forest but only a little. At the time| of the Norman Conquest it must have covered almost the whole of Essex; but now there were the occasional big houses and the old villages, the churches, the dame schools, and several little hamlets.

It was not easy to communicate with Willie. If one spoke to him he looked like a startled deer; he would stand still, as though poised for flight. He did not trust anyone.

It is strange how some people enjoy baiting the weak. Is it because they wish to call attention to their own strength? Mrs. Dillon was one of these. She it was who had stressed the fact that I was not of the same standing as my companions. It seemed to me now that instead of trying to help Willie she called attention to his deficiencies.

Naturally he was expected to help about the house. He brought water in from the well; he cleaned the yard; and these things he did happily enough; they were a habit. One day Mrs. Dillon said: “Go to the storeroom, Willie, and bring me one of my jars of plums. And tell me how many jars are left.”

She wanted Willie to come back plumless with a look of bewilderment on his face so that she could ask God or any of His angels who happened to be listening what she had done to be burdened with such an idiot.

Willie was nonplussed. He could not know how many were left; he could not be sure of picking out plums. This gave me a chance. I beckoned him and went with him to the storeroom. I picked out the plums and held up six fingers. He stared at me and again I held up my fingers; at last a smile broke out on his face.

He returned to the kitchen. I think Mrs. Dillon was disappointed that he had brought what she had asked for. “Well,” she demanded, “how many’s left?” I hovered in the doorway and behind Mrs. Dillon’s back I held up six fingers. Willie did the same.

“Six,” cried Mrs. Dillon. “As few as that. My goodness, what have I done to be given such an idiot.”

” It’s all right, Mrs. Dillon,” I said. ”I went and had a look.

There are six left.”

“Oh, it’s you, Lenore. Poking your nose in as usual.”

“Well, Mrs. Dillon. I thought you wanted to know.” I walked out of the kitchen, I hoped, with dignity. I passed Willie’s little dog who was sitting patiently waiting for his master.

Whenever I could I would try to help Willie. I often found him giving me a sidelong glance, but he hastily averted his eyes if I caught him at this.

I wished I could help him more. It occurred to me that it might be possible to teach him a little, for he was not so stupid as people thought.

I used to talk about him to Cassie, who was very easily moved to pity, and she would try to do little things for him, such as showing him which were the best cabbages to pull from the kitchen garden when he was sent out for this purpose by Mrs. Dillon.

I was very interested in people’s behaviour and I wondered why Mrs. Dillon, who was comfortably placed herself, should be so eager to make the life of someone like Willie more of a burden than it already was. Willie was a frightened boy. As I said to Cassie: “If he could only get rid of that fear of people, he would take a step towards normality.”

Cassie agreed with me. She invariably did. Perhaps that was why I liked being with her so much.

Mrs. Dillon was relentless. She said that Willie should be “put away” because it wasn’t what was to be expected in a place like The Silk House to have idiots roaming about. When Sir Francis came she would speak to him on the subject. It was no use saying anything to her ladyship and Mr. Clarkson had no authority to get him sent away.

I believe she thought that a good way of attacking Willie was through his dog. There came a day when she said the dog had taken what was left of a leg of lamb from the table and ran off with it. I was there when she was talking of it and demanding the death penalty for the dog.

Clarkson was very dignified. He sat at the table like a judge.

“Did you see the mongrel take the meat, Mrs. Dillon?”

“As good as,” replied Mrs. Dillon.

“So you did not see the act?”

“Well, I’d seen that animal out there … his eyes on what he could steal and when my back was turned he was in like a streak of lightning, and he got the meat from the table and ran off with it.”

‘ ‘It might have been one of the other dogs,” suggested Clarkson.

But Mrs. Dillon wouldn’t have it. “Oh, I know who it was. No kidding me. I see him there with my own eyes.”

I couldn’t resist saying: “But Mrs. Dillon, you did not see the dog take the meat.”

She turned on me angrily. “What are you doing here? have to be into everything. Anyone would think you was one of the family instead of …”

I looked at her steadily. Clarkson was embarrassed. He said: “This is outside the matter. If you did not actually see the dog take the meat then you cannot be sure that he did.”

‘ ‘I shall call in one of them woodmen. I shall get him to take a gun to that creature. I’ll not have him prowling round snatching the food I’ve cooked. It’s more than a body can stand and I won’t put up with it.”

The matter did not rest there. People were taking sides. The dog should be destroyed. He was a miserable little mongrel in any case. No, let the poor little fellow keep his dog. He didn’t have much of a life.

Poor Willie was distraught. He ran away taking his dog with him. It was winter and everyone was asking how he would look after himself. Mrs. Carter dreamed that he was lying in the forest somewhere … frozen to death.

May said she heard strange noises in the house; she thought she heard a dog howling. Jenny was walking through the woods and heard someone following her. She looked round and thought die saw Willie holding his dog. They were two ghostly figures and suddenly they disappeared.

Mrs. Dillon was disturbed. She was the one who had been persecuting him. She wasn’t at all sure about that leg of lamb. It might have been one of the other dogs. She wished she hadn’t asked one of the men to shoot the animal. She hadn’t meant it really. It was no use blaming her; she was only doing her duty to to house.

There was great relief when Willie came back. He was un-kempt and half starving. Mrs. Dillon made gruel for him and told him not to be such a silly happorth again … going off like that. Nobody was going to shoot his dog. It was just said in a manner of speaking.

They were a little kinder after that. So the incident had done some good and both Willie and the dog quickly recovered.

Life went on much as before. Julia was sometimes friendly but she could be suddenly imperious as though remembering that I was not quite one of the family. She would be impatient with Cassie who tired easily, but she was not averse to copying my work in the school room and asking me to supply certain answers to the work which Miss Everton set us. I suppose we got along tolerably well and I think that on the whole she was glad to have me there. I was more of a companion to her than Cassie could be. We practised jumping in the paddock and there was a certain friendly rivalry between us.

With Cassie it was different. She had to lie down in the afternoons. I used to take off her boots for her and sit with her and we talked. We played guessing games and sometimes I told her about Mrs. Halliburton’s troubles or the trials of Lady Isabel in East Lynne. She enjoyed these conversations and wept quietly for the tribulations of those unfortunate ladies.

The boys were at school most of the time. We all looked forward to their coming home for the holidays, but when they did come, it was never quite as we had imagined it would be and often I was glad when they went back—when Charles did any way. It was different with Philip.

Philip was rather like Cassie, with a kind and gentle nature. I expected they took after Lady Sallonger, who might have been like that before going through what she did with Cassie had made her rather peevish.

Charles was the elder brother—that meant about six years older than I. He was very lordly, and strutted about the house as though he owned it—which I supposed he would one day. He looked down on his brother and sisters, so it was not surprising that he had a contempt for me.

During the holidays the boys spent most of their time riding or fishing in the River Roding. They seemed to have so many exciting things to do from which we were excluded. I envied them their freedom. Philip, however, used to ride with us sometimes. He asked me questions about Grand’mere’s work. He was very interested in it. He used to go and see her sometimes. She liked him, and told me that he had real feeling for materials and knew a good silk when he saw one.

“His father will be pleased with him when he goes into the business,” she said.

“Charles does not seem interested at all,” I observed.

“It could come. At the moment he feels himself to be the big man … very important. That is here … where his brother and sisters are younger than he is. Perhaps he is different with others, eh? We shall see. But it is good that there is Philip who will be a blessing to his father.”

I noticed that Charles was quite interested in Grace the parlourmaid who was rather pretty. I saw them talking together on one occasion. Grace was giggling and was quite flushed; and he was being pleasant and friendly in a condescending way. So clearly he did not despise all females.

Once Charles did not come home. He was staying with a friend. Philip came alone and that was quite a pleasant holiday, for when Charles was not there Philip did not feel that he ought to hold us in contempt. He spent quite a lot of time with us.

I remember sitting by the lake with him and Julia and Cassie when he talked about the family and how wonderful it was that their ancestors had settled here all those years ago, driven from their homes because of religion.

“All we could do was weave our silk and so we arrived here without anything, for all we had we had left behind. We started up a silk industry in this country. Don’t you think that was a wonderful thing to have done?”

I said fervently that I did.

He smiled at me and went on: “In a few years we were producing materials that were as good as anything that came out of France. It was hard work, but we wanted to work. We were all very poor for a long time and then we began to prosper.”

“I’m glad we did,” said Julia. “I should have hated to be poor.”

“It’s really an exciting story, don’t you think so, Lenore?”

“Oh, I do. I do,” I assured him.

“To come to a new country with nothing but your faith and hope and determination to succeed.” His face shone with zeal. I thought: There is something very nice about Philip. I shall be sorry when he goes back to school.

“But there were endless troubles,” he went on. “When the country started importing French silks the Spitalfields workers were near to starvation. People wanted French silks although those we were making were just as good. They just thought French silk sounded better than Spitalfields silk. My father told me all about the trouble they had. The people were very fierce. There were riots. The workers roamed the streets. There was no work for their looms. If they saw a woman in a calico gown they tore it off her. ‘Silk! Silk!’ they shouted. ‘Everyone must wear Spitalfields silk!’ ”

“They must have been very fierce,” I said. “I should not have wanted my dress to be torn off me however good the cause.”

“They were fighting for their livelihoods. They had come over here leaving behind everything they possessed; they had set up their looms; they had produced beautiful materials; and just when they were beginning to prosper, the government allowed French silk to be brought into the country and people foolishly thought it was better and sentenced our workers to starvation.”

“If their work was so good why did people want to buy the French?”

“English people always think foreigners do better work than their own people. Besides the French had a reputation. They thought French clothes and materials must be better than the English. In any case, they almost put us out of business.”

“Why do you feel so strongly now?” I asked. “It is all over.”

“I feel for those poor people because I know how they suffered. And it could happen again.”

“Poor things,” said Cassie. “It must be dreadful to be hungry. And the little children too …”

“They are the first to suffer,” said Philip. “Oh, it has been a long and violent history. There was a time just over a hundred years ago when there was great trouble. The government had just signed the Treaty of Fontainebleau which allowed French silks to be brought into the country free of tax; and the workers were desperate. When the King was on his way to Parliament they decided to present a petition to the House of Commons. They were of the opinion that the Duke of Bedford had been bribed by the French to agree to the Fontainebleau Treaty. After they had marched to the House and forced an adjournment they went to Bedford House and attacked it. The guards were called out and the Riot Act read. The workers fled, but not before many of them had been trampled down by the horses. Many died. They had thought they had come to a safe haven when they left their homes, but they have had to fight all the way through to keep going.”

“And they did,” I said, “and all is well with them now.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “One never really knows what difficulties are going to arise. That’s how it is in life, Lenore.”

“But people find a way out of their difficulties.”

“Some do,” he replied.

Julia yawned. “It is time we went back,” she said.

I grew fond of Philip during those holidays. It was so different when Charles was not there. He used to come up to see Grand’mere. He would handle the bales of material knowledge-ably and talk about the weave. He was very interested in the loom she had there.

“Do you use it much?” he asked.

“When Sir Francis has something he specially wishes me to do.”

She talked of Villers-Mure and the factory with the bougain-villeas on the walls and the big workroom with all the big windows letting in the light.

Philip was clearly absorbed by the subject. He talked about the new process of spinning which was turning what had hitherto been waste into good material.

“A certain Mr. Lister of Bradford has invented a special loom to do this,” he told us. “It will revolutionize the trade because there must be quantities of chassum silk waste in many warehouses in London.”

I did not understand a great deal of what they said but I liked to listen to them as they talked. Grand’mere’s cheeks were flushed and Philip was talking enthusiastically. They liked each other and it is very pleasant when people whom one likes are interested in each other. Grand’mere made tea and we left the workroom and went into her little sitting room to drink it and continue talking. Philip told us how he would eventually be coming into the business. He found the waiting irksome. As soon as he had left the university he was to start. His father had promised him. He would have liked to dispense with the last stages of his education, but his father was adamant on that point.

” And your brother?” asked Grand’mere.

“Oh, he is bent on having a good time. I daresay he’ll grow out of it.”

“He has not your enthusiasm,” Grand’mere commented.

“It will come, Madame Cleremont,” Philip assured her. After all, once he begins to understand something about this fascinating business, it couldn’t fail to, could it?”

She smiled at him. “I am happy that Sir Francis has you to follow him. It must be a great joy to him.”

“My brother will probably be good at another side of the business. It’s the actual production of silk that intrigues me … the whole process. Those worms feeding on the mulberry leaves . . spinning their cocoons to produce the most exquisite material in the world …”

He talked a great deal about processes which I did not understand. I sat there in a haze of contentment watching Grand’mere and Philip liking each other more every minute.

When he had gone she showed her pleasure. As I helped her clear away the cups she was singing softly to herself:

En passant par la Lorraine

Avec mes sabots

J’ai rencontre dans la plaine

Avec mes sabots dondaines

Oh, Oh, Oh,

Avec mes sabots.

She always sang that when she was happy. I had asked her why once and she said she had always sung it as a child and it had always made her happy because the soldiers had thought the singer ugly. They did not know that a King’s son loved her. I said: “And did she marry the King’s son?” ‘ ‘We do not know. That is why I loved the song. He had given her a bouquet de marjolaine. If it flowered she would be queen. We do not know because the song ends before it tells.”

She kept smiling at me. She said: “There is one who loves this work. He is like his father. Sir Francis is lucky to have such a son.”

“You like him very much, don’t you, Grand’mere?” She nodded looking at me and smiling rather wistfully; and there were dreams in her eyes.

We were growing up. Julia was nearly seventeen. I was fifteen. Julia had changed; she was very anxious for us to know she was not a little girl any more.

She was to have a season in London.

Lady Sallonger talked of it often. It was one of our customs to take tea with her in the drawing room. I would often be there already, reading to her, and pausing now and then to thread the skeins of silk she needed. She was taking more and more of my time.

Julia and Cassie came down promptly at four o’clock and spent an hour with her. Clarkson would wheel in the tea trolly and Grace would stand by to pour out the tea and wait on us; but Lady Sallonger often dismissed her and dispensing the tea tell to my lot.

“Lenore can manage,” she would say. Then it would be: “Lenore, a little more cream please. Oh, and do bring me one of those scones.”

She would sit there, not eating, but crumbling the scone on her plate. The conversation at this time was all about Julia’s coming out which would soon take place. ” Dear me, I should be there … but it is impossible. Lenore, my feet are quite numb. Just take off my slippers and rub them, will you? Ah … that’s better. Such a relief. In my state of health it is alas impossible. The dresses you will have to have, Julia … Madame Cleremont will of course make them. She will have to get some patterns. Perhaps your father can send for them from Paris. …”

Julia clasped her hands and listened ecstatically. She was longing to be “out.” She talked about it to Cassie and me. Balls, banquets … gaiety … and armies of young men all seeking her hand in marriage.

I had heard Miss Logan, who knew of such things, talking to Miss Everton. She said: “Well, of course, it’s trade when all’s said and done… and that puts a damper on it. Mind you there’s money and money talks.”

So Julia was to be taken forth to the marriage market to display her assets. She was young, quite pretty sometimes when she was in a good temper, and very eager to find a husband but handicapped by that label “Trade”—enhanced though by the other one: “Money.”

Lady Sallonger said: “I have heard that the Countess of Bal-lader is very good. Poor soul, she needs the money now that the Earl is dead. He left her practically penniless… . Gambling they say, and drink … it swallowed up the estate and on his death it all came out. Poor Countess. Of course she was not quite … to start with. Actress or something. The Earl’s third wife and he was in his dotage when he married her. Well, now she has to eke out a living this way. She’s expensive but she was very good with Maria Cranley. Quite a plain little creature but she married well … money mind you, not much of the blue blood.”

I could not resist saying that perhaps the money would bo more useful than blue blood.

”That’s true, Lenore. Would you put another cushion behind my back. That’s better. I get so tired. And I have dropped my fan. Oh there it is. And another cup of tea, Lenore. Take this scone away. Oh dear, it seems to have gone all over the floor. Is that Madeira cake? I’ll have a piece… . No. I think I’ll try the fruit. And more cream please. Yes, the Countess is considered to be ideal. She knows her way about society and her origins make her pushing… and practical. But everyone seems to have forgotten all that and the name Ballader counts for a good deal. It is a great tragedy that I, as your Mama, Julia, cannot do what should be done for you.”

She then began to discuss what dresses would be needed.

“I shall have to ask Madame Cleremont to come and see me. There will be so much to do. I don’t know how I shall manage.”

I could not help smiling knowing that Lady Sallonger would have very little trouble in managing, for others would do that for her.

There was talk of little else but Julia’s coming out. Grand’mere was very excited about the dresses she would make for her. She did a good many sketches. I did one. Grand’mere said it should go down with the rest for approval, but she would not say it was mine until the choice was made.

Almost every afternoon we rode out together—Julia, Cassie and I. If there were three of us we were allowed to go without a groom providing we did not go beyond the little hamlet of Branches Burrow on one side and the King’s Arms on the other.

The forest within five miles radius of the house was very well known to us, but to stray beyond the boundary would be most unsafe, for it was an easy place in which to lose oneself.

I shall never forget the horror of that day. We were riding through the forest and it was all so peaceful. The sun, shining through the leaves, made a dappled pattern on the ground and there was the lovely smell of damp earth in the air. Julia was talking—as she seemed constantly to be doing—of her coming out. Cassie looked thoughtful, possibly wondering with some apprehension whether she would have a season. I had no such fears to worry me. I was not sure whether I was pleased or sorry about that. I think Grand’mere was hoping I should be asked to share … not in Julia’s perhaps, but in Cassie’s, which I imagined would not be such a grand undertaking.

We were coming to the lake and as we approached it I heard Hounds of shouting voices and shrieks of laughter.

“Some of the boys from the villages play round here,” said Julia. “It’s a favourite spot.”

As we came in sight they saw us. They were scarcely boys being in their teens—sixteen or seventeen I imagined. There was a hush as we rode forward. I could not believe what I saw. Willie was tied to one of the trees.

I shouted: “Willie, what are you doing?”

The youths—there were about six of them—stared at us for a few seconds. There was something evil about them. I sensed that before I realized what they were doing.

One of them shouted: “They’re from the house.” And they all sprang into action and ran.

I leaped from my horse and went to Willie. He was incoherent, trying to speak to us, but he could not find the words. There was an expression of fixed horror on his face. Julia and Cassie had come up.

“Oh look,” said Julia pointing.

Then I saw. It was the mongrel dog. He was tied to another tree. There was blood on his coat and he was lying very still.

I untied Willie.’ ‘What happened?” I cried. He did not answer. He ran to the dog and took it in his arms. It made no sound and was unaware of him so I knew it was dead. Those boys had killed it. How could they do such a cruel senseless thing?

“Tell us what happened,” said Julia.

But still he did not answer. He stood holding the dog against him. I noticed that one of its legs was broken.

“Willie,” said Cassie gently, “could you tell us what happened?”

Willie shook his head in abject misery.

“It was those boys,” said Julia. “Oh they are wicked. Willie, what made them do it?”

But it was no use trying to speak to him. He could only think of one thing: his dog was dead.

There was no one Willie had ever loved as he had loved that dog; and no one had ever loved Willie as that little creature had. They had found each other, comforted each other and lived for each other. And now he had been wantonly killed by mindless boys whose aim had been to inflict pain on a helpless animal and a poor lad whom they considered to be inferior to themselves.

I did not know how we were going to comfort him.

Cassie was crying silently. I think that helped him to realize we cared.

“Willie,” I pleaded, “if you try to tell us what happened …”

He spoke suddenly. “We was by the lake … sitting … looking. They came and laughed at us. I didn’t look at them. Then one of them said: ‘You do like the lake, don’t you?’ And they took me and tried to throw me in.”

He looked at the dog in his arms and went on: “He bit him … when he laid hands on me … he bit him.”

“I hope badly,” I said.

“Then they put the ropes on me and they took him up and tied him to the tree and they threw stones at him.”

“I shall tell Carter about this,” I said. “They ought to be punished.”

“It can’t bring back the poor little thing,” Julia pointed out.

“It will show them what happens to hooligans.”

But I knew that Carter had no jurisdiction over boys who did not belong to our stables.

“We shall have to bury him, Willie,” I said.

Willie began to walk away with the dog in his arms.

We mounted our horses and made our way to the stables where we found the head groom Carter and told him what had happened.

“Did you see what boys they were?” asked Carter.

“We didn’t know them. They ran off when we appeared.”

” He thought the world of that dog.” That is why they did what they did,” I said. “I wish we could find them. I think they should be severely punished.”

” If it was any of my stable lads I’d see that they heard from me. None of them, I hope, would do such a thing.”

” Willie will have to be gently treated.”

” The Missus will see to that. We’ll have to get rid of the dog. I fancy he might want to keep it. He’s very simple in lots of ways. ”

We left him and went sadly home. We were all deeply shocked and Julia did not mention her coming out for a whole day.

I knew enough of Willie to realize that he would not want to give up the dog. He would rather have it dead than not at all.

It would soon be forcibly taken from him, and I decided to see what I could do. I found a little box of stiff cardboard and some twine and went in search of him. I did not think he would be by the lake but he was. He was seated beside that tree to which they had tied the dog and he was holding the animal in his arms.

I said: “Willie, we shall have to give him a burial. He can’t be happy like that.”

“They’ll take him away from me.”

“Yes,” I said. “So let us give him a proper burial and then they won’t.” I held out the box to him. “He wants to rest,” I went on. “He’s tired. He must be left in peace to sleep.”

To my surprise he put the dog in the box.

I said: “We’ll bury him and I’ll make a little cross. Here are these sticks, see? If I cross them like that and bind them up with twine they make a cross and that gives him a Christian burial.”

He watched me and at any moment I thought he was going to snatch the box away.

I said gently: “Everyone has to die at some time. And when they die they must be treated with respect. They must be given an honourable grave. They want to rest in peace.”

He was silent listening to me with a kind of wonder.

I said: “I know what we’ll do. There’s the mausoleum.”

He looked at me not understanding.

“It’s the house of the dead. You know it. It’s not far from here. It is where the Sallongers go when they die. It’s a beautiful place. You have seen the angels there. They are guarding it. We’ll take him there and bury him, shall we?”

He continued to look at me in wonder and I put my arm round him and held him closely. He was trembling.

I said: “It is best. He will be at peace and you can come to visit him. You’ll know he is there under the ground. You can siT by his grave and talk to him. It will seem as though he is there with you. The only difference will be that you cannot see him.”

He went on studying me. It seemed a good plan. The dog had to be buried and I did not want it to be forcibly taken from him. We could dig a hole by the side of the mausoleum; that would give a certain dignity to the burial.

He was clutching the box tightly.

I stood up and said: “Come on, Willie. We’ll do it now. Then you can stay and talk to him and you will know that he is at rest. He will be happier in his box. It is there he wants to be now.”

I started to walk away, half expecting him not to follow, but he did. So I led the way to the family vault of the Sallongers.

It had always fascinated me since the first time I had seen it and Grand’mere had explained to me what it was.

“When a member of the family dies he or she is put in the mausoleum. In those coffins lie the bones of long dead Sallongers,” said Grand’mere. “They were together in life and they remain so in death. Great families have these vaults.”

I used to go and look at it—always trying to persuade Julia or Cassie to come with me. I was fascinated by the two angels with flaming swords—like those in the garden of Eden in my bible-guarding the place from intruders.

The iron gates were beautifully wrought and in the stone work of the walls figures had been carved. When I was small I fancied the faces changed as I looked at them. I sometimes dreamed of the place … that I was locked in there and could not get out and that the coffins opened and the long-dead Sallongers came out to look at me.

I said: “We will dig a grave here, Willie … by the walls of the vault and your little dog will lie close to the Sallongers. He will be happy there because his will be a real grave. We will put a cross on it and you will find it easily. Perhaps we will put some flowers on it and everyone will know that he is there and how much we cared about him.”

Willie was nodding his head slowly.

I had brought a little shovel with me. I gave it to him and said: “You dig, Willie. He would want you to bury him. You were the one he loved best.”

So that was how we buried Willie’s dog.

I knew that he went to the grave often. He would sit beside it and appear to be talking.

The dogs in the stables often had puppies and I made Julia ask for one and I told her we were going to give it to Willie. This she was happy to do.

I knew we should find him sitting by the grass.

I said: “Hello, Willie. Here’s a little dog. He has come to be with you … if you would like him to.”

Willie stared at the dog without much emotion.

Cassie stroked him and said: “You’d like to be with Willie, would you?” She put her face close to the puppy and unexpect-edly sneezed. Then she did it again.

“Once a wish, Twice a kiss,” sang Julia.

“Then it’s a kiss for me,” said Cassie and sneezed again.

You’re like pepper, puppy,” she said. “You’re making me sneeze. I’m going to call you Pepper.”

“It seems a good name for a dog,” added Julia.

I took the puppy and held it out to Willie. I said: “Look, Pepper, I think you and Willie are going to like each other.”

Willie put out a hand and took the puppy. It gave a little bark and licked his hand. I saw a sudden joy come into Willie’s face and I knew we had done the right thing.

“He’s yours, Willie,” I said. “He wants a home. Will you take Pepper and look after him?”

I am sure he stopped grieving after that.

Sir Francis came to The Silk House. There was always a good deal of ceremony when he arrived. The big carriage was housed with the gig and the dog cart which seemed to shrink into insignificance beside it. Cobb took up his quarters over the stables. I think he had the same effect on the grooms as Sir Francis did on the household. Cobb came from London and therefore considered himself greatly superior to poor country folk. Meals were more ceremonious. Lady Sallonger paid more attention to her toilette than ever, but she seemed to become more of an invalid and languished elegantly in her ribbons and laces on the sofa. Sir Francis sat beside her and called her “m’dear”; he patted her hand and listened patiently while she told him how she suffered. Clarkson became more dignified than ever and Mrs. Dillon was quite flustered in the kitchen, giving orders and cancelling them until Grace said she didn’t know whether she was standing on her head or her heels.

He was closeted with Grand’mere for some time.

He did not stay very long … only for a few days, which I daresay was considered long enough by all concerned. There was a feeling of relief when Cobb, resplendent in the driver’s seat, carried Sir Francis back to town.

Grand’mere talked about him to me after he had gone.

“He’s got something on his mind,” she said. “I have a fancy that all is not well.”

“Was he angry about something?”

“Oh no … but I think he looked worried. He said trade was in the doldrums and we needed something to pull it out. Those were his words. We wanted something new. You couldn’t stand still. We had to find something and it had to be good. The old lines were very fine but people craved for something new. ‘What we have to find, Madame Cleremont,’ he said to me, ‘is some new method of weaving silk … something which will set the world alight… something no one else has.’ I have rarely seen him in such a mood.”

“Do you think he is worried about Julia’s season? That must be very expensive.”

Grand’mere laughed. “I think not, ma cherie. I think that is one small matter and Sir Francis has much business on his mind. No. It is merely that perhaps he has not made so much money this year as last. He thinks in big figures. Oh, he will be all right. It is just that he craves something new. It is what they all want … some invention which will set them way ahead of those who who compete against them.”

” And there is a great deal of this competition then?” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Ma cherie, it is there all the time … and there is big competition between the house of St. Allengere and that of Sallonger. They have been rivals for years. One must do better than the other. The Catholic St. Allengeres and the Protestant Sallongers. Can you not imagine the trials in the family when one branch takes up with a new religion. Religion is responsible for a great deal of trouble, ma petite. ”

” But there is friendship between them. They visit.” She pursed her lips. “It is … how you say it… an armed neutrality. Between these two there is great desire to outdo each other. One must be better than the other. It has been the story over the years.”

“You were there. Did Sir Francis go to Villers-Mure very often?”

“Very rare did he come.” “And you came back with him. I never really understood that. ”

“Oh …it was an opportunity … and since I come this is mv home. I work with Sallonger … St. Allengere no more.” “There is so much I do not understand.” She took my face in her hands and looked at me tenderly. “There is so much most of us do not understand, cherie.’” In due course the house settled to normality, and all through that summer the subject of Julia’s coming out dominated the household. The season usually lasted from Easter until August, and so Julia must be ready by the spring. The Countess of Bal-lader came to stay for a week or so to assure herself, I supposed, that Julia would be worthy of her tuition.

She was a tall woman of imposing presence and one was immediately impressed by her vitality. I gathered that the Earl had been some thirty years older than she was and that he had died five years after their marriage—leaving her little but her title. Her auburn hair seemed a little brighter than nature had intended it to be; her sparkling eyes were a deep shade of green; and although she was employed by the Sallongers to launch Julia into society, she implied that it was a great favour she was be stowing upon them.

Miss Logan said that the Countess was dubious about con-cerning herself with a family engaged in Trade; but no doubt she needed the money; and as Sir Francis was a rich man there had been no doubt in Miss Logan’s mind that the Countess would take on Julia. Miss Logan assumed a new importance. She had been lady’s maid to a Duchess at one time and she talked about Her Grace as though she were some sort of goddess. I used to hear her discussions with Miss Everton and I listened whenever I could without being detected.

The Countess had several sessions with Lady Sallonger, Sometimes we were there—Julia, Cassie and I. I noticed the Countess’s big green eyes surveying us speculatively. At first she was inclined to bully Lady Sallonger but she soon realized that she had a worthy adversary there. Lady Sallonger had enjoyed a long period delegating responsibility to others and now she gently slid that onto the Countess’s shoulders. They talked of balls … the lists of guests … the clothes. Julia would have to learn to walk more gracefully: her curtsy needed attention. The Countess would have to be sure that she was going to make a success of Julia’s entry into society before she would undertake her debut.

“I have had success with all my girls,” she announced.

Lady Sallonger smiled and said how fortunate she was to have her health. If only she herself were stronger. She even had the Countess bringing a cushion for her back, and picking up her fan which she had a habit of dropping at certain moments.

I was quite amazed and excited by it all.

I said to Cassie: ‘ ‘In two or three years it will be your turn.”

Cassie shuddered.

“I suppose it won’t happen to me,” I went on. “I shall have to find a husband for myself if I want one.”

“You’re lucky,” said Cassie.

“It’s a long time yet for you, and you will have learned all about it from Julia when your turn comes,” I told her soothingly.

There was a great deal of activity in the workroom. Julia was often there for fittings.

” Mightn’t the things you make be out of fashion by next year?’ ‘ I asked Grand’mere.

”I do not give such great thought to fashion,” replied Grand ‘mere. “I take what suits. Mia needs frills and ribbons … and that is best for her. I shall make for Julia … not for fashion. If only it were you … what a dress I would make!” “It won’t ever be me. I’m only Lenore remember, not Miss.” Then I wished I hadn’t said that because she looked sad and vaguely frightened, so that I felt I wanted to comfort her. I put my arm about her and held her close to me. “It would be wonderful if…” she began. “lf what?” I asked.

But she would not go on. I knew her well and I guessed that she was worrying because I was not to have a season, and she was wondering how I was going to find a rich and handsome husband.

It was that summer when Drake Aldringham came to The Silk House. From the moment he came he seemed to change everything. We had heard that Charles was bringing a friend home for part of the vacation. Philip arrived first. He knew of Drake.

” It’s a great feather in Charles’s hat that he got Drake to come,” he said. ‘Why? ” we all wanted to know.

“Why?” cried Philip almost indignantly. “This is Drake Aldringham.”

“What is so special about him?” asked Julia excitedly, for since this talk of her coming out she was becoming very interested in young men which I supposed was natural as soon she would be on show to try to lure one of them into marrying her.

“In the first place he’s an Aldringham,” said Philip.

“What’s that?” asked Julia.

“Do you mean to say you have never heard of Admiral Aldringham? That’s Drake’s father.”

“Is he very grand?” I asked.

“Well… not more than he can help.”

That seemed noncommittal. It was difficult to get more out of Philip.

The visit was discussed at tea that afternoon. I poured out tea and Philip carried his mother’s cup to her. “Thank you, dear,” she said. “A little more milk … and I will have a piece of bread and butter. And have they sent honey? Is it clear or thick?” It was thick. “Oh dear, send for the clear … and put the rug round me, will you Lenore. I know the sun is shining outside but it is chilly in here.”

When the clear honey had been brought and toyed with and I had replenished her cup Lady Sallonger mentioned the coming visit.

“When did you think Charles and he will be here, Philip?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Mama. They were going walking in the Lake District. There are several of them but I think very soon Charles will be home with his guest.”

“I look forward to meeting him. I am sure he is most excellent. The Admiral’s son … Isn’t there an Aldringham in the government?”

“Oh yes, Mama, that’s Sir James, Drake’s uncle. They are a very notable family.”

“Drake! What an extraordinary name!”

“It sounds like a duck,” I said irreverently.

“It might be other things besides. What about the great Sir Francis Drake? As a matter of fact that is who he is named after.”

“Fancy being named after a great hero of the past. It would make you feel you had to live up to all that glory.”

“One thing,” said Philip, “you would not be expected to defeat the Spanish Armada. There’s another meaning. Drakon. It is an old English word. Draca; and the Latin, of course, is Draco. Dragon.”

“How learned you are.”

“I looked it up.”

”Because of your Drake?”

“I thought it was interesting.”

“I wonder what he will be like,” said Julia.

“A great sea captain … or a dragon?” I suggested.

Cassie said: “He’s probably very mild and meek … not a bit like Sir Francis Drake or a dragon. It often happens that people are not like what their names suggest.”

“You’ll be surprised,” said Philip. ” Lenore, do bring me one of those jam tarts,” said Lady Sallonger.

I obeyed.

“Oh … it’s raspberry. I do like black currant. I wonder if they have any black currant.”

This was the usual practice so I rang and Grace appeared. Soon she returned with black currant tarts.

I smiled as Lady Sallonger took one which I was sure she would only nibble. If it had been black currant in the first place she would have wanted raspberry. But I expected they were accustomed to her vagaries in the kitchen.

I was almost certain that we should be disappointed when Drake Aldringham appeared. Then I began to wonder whether he would come at all. Charles had not said when he was arriving and as the days passed we gave up expecting him.

Charles came back alone. There was real dismay. We had heard so much about Drake Aldringham that we were patiently awaiting him. Charles said Drake had had to go to spend a few days with an elderly aunt and was coming to The Silk House as soon as he could get away.

Charles had changed. I was always amazed to see him and Philip when they came home; they seemed to grow so fast and to change with it—particularly Charles. He was quite grown-up now; he walked with a swagger and drawled faintly. He was playing the part of a worldly young gentleman. I was faintly amused. I saw his eyes following Grace with some appreciation. I heard Miss Logan say to Miss Everton that she would like to know what he got up to … or perhaps it would be better not to know.

Miss Everton sighed and said: “They don’t remain young long.” She spoke with feeling. I imagined she was thinking they would not be needing her at The Silk House much longer.

Philip was very different from Charles—much more serious, I thought Charles was not very interested in the family business—or ever would be. But he was enormously interested in the female form.

Once, to my horror, I caught his eyes on me as though he were considering … what? I could not imagine. But I did not like that seering glance and I felt myself growing hot under it.

I was in the garden where I used to sit with Grand’mere and I was alone, hoping that she would join me as she often did at this hour. I heard footsteps and looked up expecting her. But it was a young man.

He was very tall and very fair … quite good looking in a Nordic way. When he saw me he smiled pleasantly. “Oh, I say,” he said, “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“No,” I replied. “What… do you want? Are you looking for someone?”

”For Charles Sallonger actually. There wasn’t time to let him know. I’ve left my luggage at the house and as none of the family was in I said I’d look round the garden for a while. It’s a lovely spot. I knew it was in the heart of the forest but I didn’t imagine it quite like this.”

“Are you a visitor? You must be …”

“Drake Aldringham,” he said.

”I might have guessed.”

“Are you … Julia?”

“No. I’m Lenore Cleremont.” Clearly he did not know who that was, so I explained: “I live here. I’m not one of the family. My grandmother works here and it has always been my home.”

He nodded. “It’s a most interesting place. Coming here from the station I thought it was magnificent.”

“Yes, I feel that, too.”

“Charles tells me it is the country house. There is a place in London.”

“Yes, in Grantham Square. I have only been there once or twice. Sir Francis… that is Charles’s father… is there most of the time.”

I liked his friendly looks and the fact that his manner towards me had not changed when he had discovered that I was not a member of the family.

“I daresay Charles or Philip will be in soon,” I said.

“I thought of paying my respects to Lady Sallonger but they said she was resting.”

“Oh yes, she would be at this time. She is very delicate.”

He nodded.

”We have been eagerly waiting for you to come,” I told him.

”How nice of you.”

“We’ve talked about you a lot … about Sir Francis Drake and all that.”

He grimaced. “You can imagine what it has been like going round all my life with a name like that.”

“Inspiring, I should think.”

“A little daunting. They are expecting me to go to sea.”

“And you don’t want to?”

He shook his head. “I want to go into politics.”

“I am sure that will be very exciting. There is always some-thing going on … and you are shaping the country’s destiny.”

He laughed. “You make it sound like a great responsibility … but it is rather like that. I’ve always wanted to know what was going on and how we fit into European politics. My uncle has talked to me a great deal. He knows of my ambition.”

“It must be very satisfying to know what you want in life. It enables you to go straight for it. So many people are undecided.”

“Very often one has to deal with opposition.”

“But that makes it more exciting in a way. How does one begin in politics?”

“Well, you really start at University. I’m in all sorts of things … debating society and political club. I see a great deal of my uncle. I go to the House and see him there. It gets into your blood. I read the newspapers and form my opinions about what is going on. I discuss it with my uncle, who encourages me in every way. I’m lucky to have him. It’s so thrilling to learn of these things. People are apt to shut themselves up in little cocoons. They know what is happening in their immediate circle. They know the Tay Bridge was destroyed. They know Gladstone had defeated Beaconsfield and is in power. They know Parnell is being tried for conspiracy. But they don’t really know what is going on in Africa. What I mean is they don’t know why. I’m talking too much. You must forgive me. I get carried away.”

I said: “I’m very interested. I am sure you would make an excellent politician.”

Just at that moment Grand’mere came into the garden. She was looking for me.

“Grand’mere,” I said. “This is Mr. Drake Aldringham. He has arrived and there is no one to receive him.”

She came towards us. She had great dignity. One would have thought she was mistress of the house.

“We have heard so much about you,” she said. “I am sure Charles will be quite put out that he was not here to greet you.”

“It was my fault,” he said. “I should have let him know, but I thought it was quicker just to come.”

“So you have been received by my granddaughter.”

“Yes, we have been having a very interesting conversation. But I’m afraid I was talking a great deal about myself.”

“That is the sign of a good politician,” I replied, and he laughed.

We sat down by the pool and I went on to say: “Mr. Aldringham has been telling me about his ambitions, Grand’mere.”

We talked about the forest and he said he had been very eager to see The Silk House. It was such an unusual name. One would expect it to be made of silk … if that were possible.

“You know of course that the Sallongers are the biggest manufacturers of silk of the country,” said my grandmother. He did not know, but he was interested and I told the romantic story of the Huguenot St. Ailengeres coming to England and becoming Sallongers. “They had to leave everything they possessed,” I said, “and all they could bring with them was their knowledge of silk.”

He thought it was romantic and exciting and he said he would enjoy his stay at The Silk House all the more because of the fascinating history behind it.

I could see that Grand’mere liked him. She had a very special look in her eyes; she smiled and nodded and talked volubly with a sprinkling of French among her words.

We could have gone on quite happily for a long time but Charles came out. He had returned to the house and was immediately told that his guest had arrived and had gone into the gardens so he had come to look for him and I guessed the sound of our voices had directed him to us.

He stood at the entrance to the garden looking in surprise at Drake Aldringham sitting between myself and Grand’mere chattering to each other like old friends.

“Drake … old fellow,” he said.

Drake stood up.

“So there you are,” he said. “I should have let you know but it seemed more sensible to arrive.”

“It’s good to see you. Sorry I was out and there was no one to receive you.”

“Oh, but there was Miss Lenore and her grandmother. We have had a very interesting chat.”

Charles gave a sharp laugh. He hardly glanced at us. He took Drake’s arm and said: “Let’s go in.”

Drake looked over his shoulder and smiled at us. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

And they had gone.

Grand’mere looked at me, her eyes smiling.

“But he is charming. He is very … interessant … I like him. He is a very nice young man.”

“I thought he was quite pleasant.”

“It is good that such come to the house,” said Grand’mere.

She looked at me with dreams in her eyes. I was beginning to realize how preoccupied she was with my future. As we went back to the house she was humming En passant par la Lorraine under her breath.

The entire household was enchanted by Drake Aldringham. He was natural in his behaviour, so enthusiastic about every-thing and charming to everyone. Even Cassie came out of her shell and talked to him with ease. Lady Sallonger was delighted with him. She would have him sit beside her and talk.

“My dear boy, you must tell me all about yourself. It is so exciting for me. Here I am a prisoner… on my couch doomed to spend my life here and you … you have these wonderful plans. Tell about that uncle of yours … and of course of your father. When are you going to get into Parliament? You must be our member, mustn’t he Julia? We would all work for him, wouldn’t we?”

“Oh yes, we would,” said Julia fervently.

Julia was already half way to falling in love with him, but I think she would have been with any young man who had pre-sented himself at that time.

He had great charm and could respond to Lady Sallonger’s mildly flirtatious conversation and be quite serious with Philip; I used to hear him laughing heartily with Charles; he was at ease and at home with everybody. He always had a special smile for me; and I would often find him sitting next to me when we were in the drawing room. I thought meeting me first had made a special friendship between us.

Julia was a little resentful of that. I understood. She wanted Drake’s undivided attention and it was indefensible that I, not even a member of the family, should take it from her. When I sat with him, Cassie would often join us and it was amazing how she lost her shyness in his company. I often found Charles’s eyes on me and I felt rather uncomfortable under his scrutiny. I thought he was implying that I should remember my place.

It was agreed that something must be done to entertain the guest and Lady Sallonger decided on a dinner party. We should ask about twenty guests and with the family that should make a considerable party. They might dance afterwards, just informally as the company would be comparatively small. There was a ballroom which was not used half enough but would be, of course, after Julia had come out. Lady Sallonger thought that several people who did not live very far away should be invited. They need not stay the night. But there could be one or two from London who would have to, of course. But The Silk House was commodious enough. She grew quite excited planning it.

I was commanded to bring her writing pad and paper. “Not that one. Lenore … the larger one in my bureau.” Finally we had the right pad and the right pen and the compilation of the list began.

There was excitement throughout the house. I was to go to the party. Certain duties had been assigned to me.

“You will look after the Barkers, Lenore,” said Lady Sallonger. “I don’t suppose anyone will want to talk to them … and I don’t think people like to feel neglected. It makes the party seem unsuccessful. Perhaps I should not have asked them. They are very, very rich … but it was all made out of building. People might forget that but Jack Barker won’t let them. He talks about property developments and decay in the industry all the time. I’m only asking them because we need the number and they are near enough to go home afterwards.”

Grand’mere was in a state of uncertainty. Before she had known that I would be there she was thoughtful. “It will be a sign,” she said. “I want you to be there … I do so want you to be there.”

So when I was told about the Barkers she was overjoyed.

“I shall make you a dress, mon enfant. You shall have such a dress as will make you shine among them all.”

“Julia wouldn’t like that,” I reminded her.

“Oh, she would not know. She is lacking in style, that one. She does not know a perfection when she sees it. She is too fond of show and glitter … but that is not style. Oh no. That is not chic …”

She did make me a dress. It was my first grown-up dress. It was in flame coloured silk, which suited my dark hair; it had a tight bodice and short puffed sleeves; the glory was in the skirt, which flared out from the waist in numerous flounces.

There were tears in Grand’mere’s eyes when she fitted it on.

“You look so like your mother,” she said. “I could almost believe …”

I embraced her and said it was very grand, and it would be my favourite dress for the rest of my life.

The evening came and the guests arrived. Lady Sallonger received them on her couch. She looked very regal when they came to bow to her. Charles and Philip were with her and Drake Aldringham, of course. It was all very splendid.

It was to be a buffet supper and the tables were set out in the dining room. The musicians were already playing in the ballroom and Lady Sallonger had arrived there leaning heavily on Charles’s arm. She had seated herself to watch the dancing.

I, of course, was with the Barkers. Mr. Barker talked all the time about his business. Mrs. Barker said very little; she sat arms folded over her ample stomach looking like a Chinese Buddha and watching her husband as though the words which came from his ever-open mouth were some divine gospel.

Still, it was fun to be there. I learned of the difference between building with bricks and with stones, of the difficulty there was to find workmen who knew their jobs, and how people did not work as they used to with all this talk of reform. Things had started to decline since every Tom, Dick and Harry could get the vote.

I was not paying very much attention but I took my cue from Mrs. Barker and just assumed an air of respectful absorption while my mind wandered.

I saw Drake Aldringham with Julia. Cassie was seated beside her mother. She could not dance because of her leg. Poor Cassie, I thought, she did not enjoy such occasions very much.

Charles looked in my direction and I was amazed when he sauntered over.

“Good evening, Mr. Barker, Mrs. Barker,” he said. “I hope you are enjoying the occasion.”

“Splendid, splendid,” replied Mr. Barker. “This is a finely proportioned room. They knew what they were doing when they built this place.”

“I’ll grant you that,” said Charles, giving me a conspiratorial look.” Alas, Mr. Barker, that you were not around at the time. I am sure if you had been it would have been even more splendid.”

Mr. Barker looked pleased. “Oh, I would have brought a bit of modernity into it. That fireplace. Look at it. It must use up tons of coal. Should have been more shallow.”

“I am sure you are right. I am going to take Lenore round the floor. She looks as if she is longing to dance.”

I turned to Mrs. Barker. I felt it was strange that Charles should be so concerned about me.

Mrs. Barker said: “That’s nice. Young people ought to enjoy themselves. We’ll see you later, Miss Cleremont.”

Charles had gripped my arm.

“There,” he said, as he led me into the dance. “Ah, the waltz. I love the waltz, don’t you?” He put his arm round my waist and drew me close to him.

My heart was beating fast. I was suspicious of him. I could not understand why he was being so genial towards me after the indifference—tinged with contempt—which he had so often shown me.

“I hope,” he went on, “that you are grateful to me for rescuing you from those two old bores.”

“Oh,” I replied. “They are not so bad. Mr. Barker must be an expert builder.”

”Why Mama had to ask them, I cannot imagine, and then to condemn you to look after them! Cruelty to the young, I call that. I say, Lenore, you look remarkably pretty tonight.”

“Thank you. It’s the dress.”

“If you were to ask me I should say it is what is inside the dress.”

His fingers crept up to the bare flesh of my neck and I felt a shiver run through me. He was aware of it.

“You are very young, Lenore,” he said. “Just a little girl, in fact.”

”I shall soon be sixteen.”

“Dear me! What a great age! Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Or have you?”

He was whirling me round at a great speed. I loved to dance. I used to dance with Julia. Miss Logan was teaching her. I imagined that when the season grew nearer she would have a real dancing master or mistress. Dancing was one of the social graces at which one must be proficient when coming out. I joined in the lessons to give Julia a partner and I always enjoyed the session. But I was not really enjoying this. Charles seemed quite different from the young man whom I had known before. I had always thought I was far beneath his notice.

We were passing a door and as we came level with it his grip tightened about my waist and he swung me out of the ballroom … all along the corridor.

I gasped: “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”

“Patience,” he sang out.

He opened a door and we were in a small room where the maids did the flowers every day. There was a sink and a tap. It was very cold and dark. I suddenly felt his lips on mine and I had rarely been so horrified.

“Let me go,” I shouted.

“Why should I?”

“I didn’t know …”

“You know. I think you are rather pretty. You’re a babe, but babes can be taught and there are a lot of things I can teach you.”

“I … I don’t think I want to hear them. I want to go back to the ballroom. I have to make sure the Barkers get supper.”

“The Barkers can take care of themselves for a while. Come on, Lenore. What’s the matter? You know I like you, don’t you?”

”I am sure you don’t,” I said.’ ‘You’ve always despised me.”

“I never despise pretty girls,” he said, attempting to insert his fingers into the neck of my dress.

“How dare you!” I cried. “I am going … now.”

He barred the way. “Now come on. You can’t tease me like this. I don’t like girls who tease.”

“And I don’t like people who force themselves on others.”

“Oh, you are a haughty piece, are you not?”

“I am myself and I choose people I shall talk to.”

“You little bastard,” he said.

I caught my breath and he laughed sneeringly. “Why so shocked? It’s what you are. Why we have you in the house I don’t know. Giving yourself airs … can’t accept a friendly kiss … after leading me on.”

I was silent with rage and astonishment.

He could not see my face because it was dark. He said in a more gentle tone: “Don’t be silly, Lenore. I like you. You ought to be pleased about that. But of course you are. I’m going to give you a good time. We’re going to be friends. This is just a beginning. It’s a pity you sleep near your grandmother. Do you think the old lady would hear if I came up quietly?”

I cried out: “I cannot understand why you are talking to me like this.”

“Because you’re growing into an attractive girl and it is time you realized what good fun attractive girls can have.”

My anger was turning cold. I knew that he was implying that because of my lowly and less than respectable birth I should welcome the attentions of the son of the house. I had never liked him. Now I hated him.

“Please understand that I want to go at once and that I will have no more of this kind of behaviour.”

“Oh, she is haughty, is she? Whom do you imagine you are? French scum … that’s what you are. And because I want to be kind to you … show you what a gentleman can do for you … you give yourself airs.”

“The trouble is that you are not a gentleman.”

He gripped my arm roughly. “Listen to me, my girl. All I want from you is a bit of fun. That’s what girls like you are meant for. You’ve no right in this house. Your grandmother may work for us but that does not mean that you can play the haughty lady … not unless you earn the right. Come on, Lenore, I’m lolling you I like you. Give me a kiss. There’s a lot I can show you.”

I was in a panic. I was alone with him in this dark cubbyhole. I brought up my hand sharply and hit him in the face. I had taken him by surprise and I heard his gasp of astonishment as he released me. I lost no time in slipping past him. I dashed out into the corridor. I did not stop running for I felt he might come after me. I sped up to my bedroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror. My face was flushed and my hair in disorder. I washed in cold water and was relieved to see that the red marks on my arms were beginning to disappear. I combed my hair with shaking fingers; but already I was feeling calmer.

Perhaps he had drunk too much claret cup. I could not believe that he really liked me. He felt towards me as he did towards the maids who tittered when he glanced their way and looked secretive as though there was some special understanding between them. He wished to treat me as he treated them.

I was very frightened but I must return to the ballroom for I should be missed. The party was not so large that absentees could fail to be noticed for long. I went down and slipped into the ballroom. No one looked at me in surprise. The Barkers were still alone. I went over to them.

“Did you enjoy your dance?” asked Mrs. Barker.

I smiled vaguely and asked if they would like to go in to supper.

As I conducted them to the dining room, I saw Charles. He was talking to Amelia Barrington, one of the daughters of our nearest neighbours. He looked right through me as though he did not see me.

“A fine room,” Mr. Barker was saying. “There’s a sign of damp up there. That wants looking into.”

Philip joined us with Cassie. Cassie looked a little tired. She would be glad when this was over. It must be rather sad to sit and watch the dancing without joining in. Philip talked to Mr. Barker—or rather allowed him to talk and seemed quite interested in the building trade, or perhaps he was just being polite.

He told me afterwards that he had a lot of sympathy for those people who were dedicated to their work. It was exactly how he felt about silk.

I lived through the rest of the evening in a daze. I could not get that unpleasant encounter with Charles out of my mind.

When I finally retired Grand’mere came in to talk to me. She sat on the edge of my bed in her silk wrap which, because she had made it herself, was the essence of elegance.

“And what happened?” she asked. “Did you dance?”

“A little. Mr. Barker doesn’t dance and I had to look after them.”

“Did you dance with Mr. Aldringham?”

“No … he was with Julia quite a lot.”

She looked disappointed.

“I danced with Philip just after supper, which I had with him and Cassie and the Barkers.”

Grand’mere did not look very pleased. She said: “You are tired. You must go to sleep.”

It was not so much that I wanted to sleep as to be alone to think over the evening, which meant that unpleasant encounter with Charles.

Grand’mere was disappointed. The young girl after her first ball should have been filled with excitement, bursting with the need to talk of the thrilling evening. And all I could do was think about those terrifying moments in the cubbyhole. It was not that I wanted to. I just could not help it.

When I saw Charles the next day he did not seem to be aware of me. I began to feel relieved. He had forgotten. It was the way in which he behaved to any female whom he considered beneath him. Perhaps I had been unduly perturbed. He had tried and failed and he must have been very angry because of that stinging blow I gave him. It would have been a physical hurt as well as an insult.

The following morning Julia was annoyed because Charles and Philip had taken Drake off somewhere and it seemed they would be away for the whole of the day.

In the afternoon I went for a ride with her and Cassie. She was talking all the time about the party.

“It was really quite enjoyable,” she said. “I can’t wait to be ‘out.’ Then it will be all parties like that. Drake will be in London. He’s bound to be asked to all the parties … or most of them … because of his father and his uncle. People are more respectful towards cabinet ministers than admirals.”

“One wouldn’t have thought so,” I said, “when you consider the way in which they are vilified by the press.”

“People take an interest in them because of that. There has to be a war for sailors to be made much of. I do hope Drake goes into politics. It will be most exciting.”

Cassie said thoughtfully: “Do you think you will be there to see the excitement?”

Julia blushed. “I … I always thought I’d like to lead that sort of life. You know, all the thrill of elections … and going to the House and meeting people like Lord Beaconsfield and Mr. Gladstone. Mary Anne Wyndham Lewis was afterwards Lord Beaconsfield’s wife. Everybody called her Mary Anne even when she became Lady Beaconsfield. It’s frightfully romantic, She had lots of money. That was really why he married her.”

“Very romantic,” I said sarcastically. “Would you agree, Cassie?”

“Well, often those suitable marriages turn out very well in the end,” said Julia. “Theirs did and she used to say that he might have married her for money, but after the years together he would marry her for love. Drake was most interesting about it. You would have loved it, Cassie … so would you, Lenore. But you had to look after those boring Barkers.”

“Philip and Cassie came along and helped out. It wasn’t so bad then.”

“Theirs is a happy marriage,” said Cassie. “Mrs. Barker thinks Mr. Barker is quite wonderful. It is rather charming to watch the way she listens to him, nodding her head all the time. I think if anyone said a word against him, or attempted to con-tradict him, she would be ready to slay them.”

“That sort of marriage where one partner is subservient to the other is bound to be a success,” I said. “I expect that is what every man is looking for.”

“I don’t think Drake would want that. He loves you to disagree with him. I’ve noticed that.”

“I hadn’t,” said Cassie.

“Dear Cass, you haven’t been with him like I have.” She preened herself. “He is so amusing. I loved the story of Lord Beaconsfield’s wife. I think he was plain Mr. Benjamin Disraeli then. She hurt her hand when she got into the carriage to drive with him to the House, where he was going to make an important speech. She did not tell him that she had crushed her hand in the carriage door when getting into it. The pain must have been terrible but she sat there smiling and chatting as though nothing was wrong because she feared he might be upset and that would spoil his speech. The pain must have been terrible.”

“What a lovely story,” said Cassie. “I like it very much, don’t you, Lenore?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But I was thinking that I would not want to be a shadow of my husband … like Mrs. Barker for in-stance. I should want to be myself. I might want to do something in life … quite apart from marriage.”

Julia said: “Oh, I wouldn’t want to be somebody else’s shadow. Politicians’ wives, though, have their place in society. Disraeli’s Mary Anne used to follow everything that went on in the House and she used to sit up and wait for him to come home and she always had a cold supper waiting for him no matter at what time he arrived; and then he would tell her all that had gone on in Parliament. And Mrs. Gladstone is very well known in society. She always makes sure that her husband’s material comforts are looked after. Drake says that in the home she is the one who gives the orders. So you see … it is a most exciting life.”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in the political scene?” asked Cassie.

Julia blushed a little. “I suppose it is because I’ve been talking to Drake.”

Cassie and I exchanged glances. It was clear to us that this was Julia in love. It was to be expected. She was past seventeen and Drake would be about four years older, so both of them could be considered marriageable.

As we neared the house we met Drake with Charles. They had obviously been for a ride.

“Hello,” said Drake. “Are you just returning?”

“We’ve been taking an afternoon’s ride,” explained Julia.

“The forest is beautiful,” said Drake. He smiled at us all in his friendly fashion. Julia was gazing at him. She was rather obvious, I thought, and wondered if I dared tell her that it would be better to hide her feelings a little.

“Going back to the house now?” asked Charles.

Julia said we were.

I did not speak. Charles had not addressed me. He behaved is though I were not there. I wondered if he was going to ignore me from then on. I did not mind if he did. In fact I should be rather pleased.

We rode towards the house. Drake was between Julia and me.

He said: “It was a most interesting evening.”

“It was, wasn’t it,” replied Julia.

“I saw you were very busily engaged,” he went on, turning to me.

“Lenore had orders from Mama,” explained Julia. “Mama was afraid people would find the Barkers boring. So Lenore had to look after them.”

“That was very noble of you,” said Drake.

“Not in the least. I was told to do it.”

“Never mind,” put in Julia. ‘ ‘You were there and you danced with Charles and Philip. We had a marvellous time, didn’t we, Drake?”

“It was very amusing,” he answered.

“What about you, Charles?” asked Julia.

“Oh, I had a very good evening,” said Charles,

“Enjoying yourself with the young ladies?”

“Immensely,” replied Charles.

We had come to the mausoleum.

“What an extraordinary building,” commented Drake.

“It’s the mausoleum,” Julia explained.

“It’s most ornate.”

“It was built about a hundred years ago,” explained Charles ‘ ‘It’s rather eerie, is it not?”

“Well, I suppose it would be,” said Drake. “Is it open?”

“Good Heavens, no. It’s opened very rarely … only when someone is put in there, I suppose. Just think, I shall be there one day … Philip too. What a thought. You girls … well, I suppose you’ll marry and you won’t be Sallongers then … so therefore unworthy of the place.”

“I’ve always been interested in mausoleums,” said Drake. He had dismounted. “I want to look at it. That stone work is unusual. All that work … for the resting place of the dead.”

“I call it the House of the Dead,” said Cassie.

“That makes it sound quite frightening,” said Julia with a shiver.

“I wouldn’t like to walk past it at night,” went on Cassie. “Would you, Lenore?”

“I think I should feel a little uneasy,” I admitted.

“I wonder why they call it a mausoleum,” said Julia. “It suits it, doesn’t it? You couldn’t imagine having a party in a mausoleum.”

“I think the eeriness has become attached to the word be-cause of what it implies,” suggested Drake.” I wonder who first called it that,” said Cassie.” I can tell you that,” added Drake.’ ‘I was thinking of taking up archaeology at one time. If I fail as a politician, I might take it up again. It is called a mausoleum because of the tomb erected at Halicarnassus to Mausolus, the King of Caria, by his widow. That was about 353 B.C. I believe it was large and magnificent and was recognized to be one of the seven wonders of the world.”

“I’d love to see it,” I cried.

He turned to me with a smile. “That would be quite impos-ible,” he said. “It fell into decay during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. People took parts of it away for building material.”

“The Mr. Barkers of the thirteenth and fourteenth centu-ries,” I murmured.

” No doubt they didn’t regard themselves as vandals. But when you are in London, Lenore, I’ll take you to the British Museum. The site was discovered not so long ago—about 1857—and all that could be saved was brought to England. It has now been set up in the Museum.”

“How I should love to see it.

“One day you shall.”

“I should like to see it, too,” said Julia.

“It will be a great pleasure for me to take you both.”

“And me?” said Charles.

“But, of course. I see I have succeeded in arousing your interest.” He turned to Charles. “Is it possible to see inside?”

“I imagine so,” said Charles. “There is a key somewhere. I daresay Clarkson knows where.”

“Why don’t you go and get it, Charles,” suggested Julia. “Then we could all look now.”

“I should so enjoy that,” said Drake.

Charles said: “Very well, I will.” And he strode towards the house.

“I hope I don’t bore you with my enthusiasm,” said Drake.

“It is rather different from the Barker lore,” I said.

He laughed and Julia put in: “I think the past is so fascinating. You must have had lots of fun, Drake, discovering these things.”

“It is fascinating. I should love to be involved in some spec-tacular discovery … revealing a lost city … some temple of tomb. Of course that sort of thing happens once in a lifetime. Most of it is a hard slog with no rewards.”

“I can see that politics is going to win,” I said.

He smiled ruefully. “I expect it will.”

We talked a little while about old tombs and the party last night until Charles came back triumphantly holding up the key.

“Now,” he said, “your ghoulish curiosity will be satisfied.”

We had all dismounted and followed Charles past the angels with flaming swords to the gate. As we passed along Drake noticed the cross protruding from the ground.

“That looks like a miniature grave,” he said.

“It is a grave,” Julia told him. “A dog is buried there.”

“One of your pets?”

“No … not ours,” said Julia.

I explained: “The dog belonged to one of the boys from the stables. He was very attached to it and some wicked boys stoned it to death … not far from here. He was terribly upset. He is rather simple and loved the dog so much. How people can do such things I cannot imagine.” I spoke passionately remembering it all. I still felt strongly about that incident. I knew that Willie often visited the grave and sat there talking to the dog. I had heard him. He had little Pepper now who comforted him a great deal, but I guessed he never forgot the other.

I was rather ashamed to feel that there were tears in my eyes.

“It was a foul thing to do,” said Drake vehemently. “Only mindless idiots act so.”

He took my arm, pressed it in sympathy and walked close to me towards the angels.

“Ready?” said Charles. “The great moment has come.” He put the key in the lock and turned it with some difficulty. “It’s stiff,” he explained, “because it is opened so rarely … only when they are taking some poor Sallonger to join his forefathers.”

“I should have thought the air inside will not be very good,” said Drake.

” There is a little space open to the air … somewhere … I believe,” Charles told him.

The door had swung open. We were confronted by steep stairs which led down into darkness. We descended in single file, Charles leading the way.

“Careful,” he shouted. “Don’t slip, any of you. You never know what could happen to you down here.”

We went down and down. There must have been at least thirty steps. Then we were in the high underground chamber. We were confronted by an enormous piece of statuary of the Virgin and the infant Christ and another of a woman and two angels. Beside this group was a figure which was clearly meant to represent Satan. He appeared to be attacking the angels with the sceptre he carried. Presumably they were fighting for the soul of the deceased woman. It was indeed eerie, for there was only a shaft of light which came from high up in the wall through a gap in the stone and which I calculated must be at about ground level. Along the sides of the chamber were rows of coffins.

It was very cold and I began to shiver. I felt as though I were being caught up in the past.

“Impressive,” whispered Drake. “Do you know it is built on the same lines as Mausolus’s tomb? I’ve seen pictures of what it must have looked like long ago, before it fell into decay.”

“How would you like to spend a night down here?” enquired Charles. “You, Cass … eh, what about you?”

“I think my hair would turn white overnight,” said Cassie. ” People’s hair does, you know, if they are very shocked.”

“It would be rather fun to see what you look like with white hair,” said Charles. “What about leaving her here?”

“No,” shrieked Cassie.

“Of course we wouldn’t,” Drake assured her. “It’s only the darkness and the thought of the dead, you know. That’s what makes it so ghostly. It’s really just an underground tomb.”

“I wonder what happens at night,” said Julia. “Do you think they come out of their coffins and dance round here?”

“Not very pleasant just in their shrouds. The temperature in a little bleak,” said Charles.

Drake was walking round examining the walls, and declared that it was all fascinating.

“We should open it to tourists,” said Charles.

“But it’s so chilly,” added Julia.

“I think you are all cowards,” said Charles. “But what can you expect from a parcel of girls?”

I felt the dampness seeping into my bones. I looked at the coffins on the ledges and thought there was room for many more.

Then I felt myself suddenly gripped by the shoulders.

“Gotcher,” whispered a voice in my ear. “I am the ghost of the mausoleum. I am going to keep you down here as my bride.”

I turned sharply and looked into the gleaming eyes of Charles. His face was very near my own and I was seized with trembling,

“Why, you are scared,” he said laughing.

“Who wouldn’t be, jumped on like that in a place like this,” said Drake. “Stop playing tricks, Charles.”

Charles answered: “I didn’t think she would be so easily scared. You’re a frightened little thing, Lenore, for all your bravado.”

“Let’s go,” said Julia. “I’ve had enough. We’ve seen it. That was all you wanted, Drake.”

“Yes, it has been most interesting. I’d like to come again. Next time we should bring candles.”

“And warm coats,” added Cassie.

Julia was making for the steps.

“I’ll go first,” announced Charles, “and lead the way.”

“I’ll take up the rear,” said Drake.

”I was wondering who was going to be the last,” said Charles. “You girls would all have been scared wondering who was coming to claw you back. Well, you have been ill-mannered enough to call uninvited at their private house.”

I’ll make sure they don’t get me,” added Drake. “Come on it is really chilly.”

We were all breathing heavily after the climb up the steps and, blinking, came out in the fresh air.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it,” said Charles. “All present and correct.” He glanced at me. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. I really do believe you thought you had.”

“No,” I replied. “It was just the suddenness of the attack.”

He grimaced. ”I’ll have to get this key back to Clarkson. He was most insistent. See you shortly.”

He rode away.

“It was quite an experience,” said Drake, looking at me.

It was the afternoon of the following day. Drake had gone off with Charles and Philip on some masculine excursion early in the morning. Julia was in a bad temper because of this. She wanted to be with Drake all the time.

I took a book and was on my way to the pond garden when I met one of the young boys from the stables. He came running to me rather breathlessly. He said: “Oh, Miss, I was coming to the house to see if I could find you. I wanted to see you.”

” What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s Willie. He’s lost his dog.”

“Oh no …”

“Yes, Miss. He’s in a state about it. He’s been in the forest looking for him all day. I think I might know where he is.”

“Well, where is he?”

“He’s in that burial place, Miss. People was there yesterday. P’raps he got in while the door was open. I thought I heard him there … through that slit in the wall. I put me ear there… .”

“Well, have you told Willie?”

“Couldn’t find him. I thought as you … being friendly with him like … and me not liking to go down on me own.

“Well, we must go and see.” He held up a key.

“I got it from Mr. Clarkson … I don’t like to go in on me own … I thought as how you …”

It seemed possible that Pepper had gone into the mausoleum. It must have been when the door was open and we were all down there. I could imagine his sniffing round the place. He came there often with Willie.

I did not relish going into that dark underground place.

I said to the boy: “Come on … we’ll both look round.”

He hesitated.

“Oh come on,” I said impatiently. “I shall be there. You won’t be alone.”

The boy unlocked the door leaving the key in the lock and we started down the steps, I leading the way. I picked my way carefully and warned him to do the same. I said: “The stairs might be damp and slippery.”

He did not answer. Then I realized that he was not following me. I heard voices through the open door. I was relieved. Some-one else was there.

“Pepper,” I called. “Pepper, where are you?”

There was a shadow behind me.

I said: “He’s probably hiding. He must have been rather scared when he found he could not get out.”

I had reached the bottom of the stairs and turned. I went cold with fear. Charles was behind me.

“Charles!” I cried.

“The very same.”

“How … how did you get here?”

“By the usual means … on my two feet.”

“Where is the boy?”

“I sent him back. Oh don’t worry, I have the key.”

He held it up smiling at me.

I was determined not to show how frightened I was to be in such a place … alone with Charles. This was more than fear, It was like something out of a nightmare.

“Pepper,” I called, “where are you?”

“The little beast is probably hiding. We’ll find him … if he’s here. Pepper. Come here.”

There was no answer. Our voices in that strange place sounded unfamiliar.

“Well, if he is not here we’d better go,” I said. “The boy thought he heard a dog down here and it seemed very likely as we had the door open yesterday and he comes here with Willie a good deal.”

“I don’t think he’s here.” He turned and looked at me. “You’re scared,” he said.

“I don’t like this place.”

“Not very cosy, is it? And you like it less because you’re alone here with me.”

I wondered if I could pass him and make a dash for the stairs. Could I reach the top before him? I knew I could not, for it was so gloomy one would have to pick one’s way with care.

“You should not be afraid of me,” he said in a soft voice. “I have told you I want to be your friend. But you won’t let me.”

“I do not want the sort of friendship you are suggesting.”

“Oh, I know you are a very pure young lady. It’s a pity. What are you afraid of?”

“I think we should go now. The dog cannot be here. He would come when called if he were.”

“You think I’m going to attack you, don’t you? That I am going to force you to submit to my evil desires. Is that not so? Confess. You think me capable of that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

He laughed. “You’re a bold wench. Let me tell you that I do not have to beg for favours.”

“I am sure you don’t. So why don’t you take from those who are willing … perhaps eager to give them?”

”There are plenty who are, I assure you. Therefore I will not do that which I could so easily do, for, my proud little bastard, you are at my mercy down here. What a setting for the ravishment. Surrounded by the dead.”

“I am going now.”

“Not so fast. You should be in terror that I shall rob you of your innocence … for innocent you are, are you not? Such a stinging blow that was, you gave me. I feel it still. No. I would not give what I have to offer to a slut who would not appreciate it.”

“I can understand that. I am sorry I hit you. But you did provoke me. But now that we understand each other perhaps we can forget the incident.”

“I do not forget insults so easily.”

“I thought I was the one who was insulted.”

“Because you have ideas above your station, little Miss Cleremont?”

“Perhaps,” I said, “but I hope never to trouble you with them again.”

“Then we will go.”

He was on the stairs a little ahead of me. Suddenly he turned and said: “Listen. Did you hear that?”

I stood very still listening and turned to stare back down into the dark chamber. “No, I can hear nothing,” I said.

Then I heard him laugh. While my back was turned he had been mounting the stairs. He started to run up them and he was well ahead of me. I heard the door shut with a bang just as I reached it. Then I heard the key turn in the lock.

A terrible fear came over me.

I was alone … locked in the house of the dead.

I went to the door and beat on it with my two fists.

“Let me out. Let me out,” I cried.

He must have been very close to the door but I heard his laugh.

“You were very rude to me, you little bastard,” he shouted. “You have to be punished for that. Stay there with the departed and think about the way you behaved to the son of the house which has been your benefactor for so many years. You ungrateful little beast. You have to learn, you know.”

“No … no!” I cried.

The laugh was fainter now. He had gone leaving me here.

I sat down on the stone steps and covered my face with my hands. It was very dark now that the door was closed. I thought: This is not happening. This is a dream. I shall wake up soon.

But I knew it was not a dream. 1 knew he had thought of doing this to me yesterday, that he had lured me here. The boy must have been obeying his orders. There was no question of the dog’s being lost.

I called: “Help! Help!” My voice sounded feeble echoing through the underground chamber. Perhaps if someone was right outside they would hear it. But who would be there? And how long should I stay here?

I was afraid to move from the stairs. I did not want to go down to the chamber where the coffins were. It was better there on the stairs where I could not see them.

They would miss me soon. Grand’mere would be worried. She would insist on their looking for me. It could not be very long. But even a little time in such a place would be terrifying.

Why had I been such a trusting fool? I should have made the boy go down first, but I had been so eager to find Willie’s lost dog. I would have done anything to restore him to his young master.

I sat staring down into the gloom. Silence can be frightening. I realized I was straining my ears for some sound from the dead.

I thought of stories of ghosts which I had heard. If there were ghosts anywhere in the world they would be in a place like this.

I heard myself praying incoherently. “Please God, let someone come now … quickly … now … now.”

I stood up. My legs were already numb. Again I banged on the door until my fists hurt. I knew the futility of that but I continued to do it. Suppose no one came … not until another Sallonger died and they opened the door to bring in the coffin and found me … dead.

But they would look for me. They must find me. But who would think of looking here? The stable boy would tell them. But no. He had been primed to do his part by Charles. My hatred for Charles momentarily overcame my fear. Why were people so loathsome? Why did they do such wicked things to other people? Those cruel boys who had stoned Willie’s dog … Charles, who could do this to me because I would not submit to his lust.

I wondered how long I had been here. Was it fifteen minutes? Thirty? I was so frantic I could not think of what I must do. I had had no warning. I had been prepared for him to assault me. I would have fought him with all my strength if he had … but it had not occurred to me that this would be his revenge.

Was it likely that anyone would pass this way? When the evening came no one would. The servants never liked passing the place after dusk. Was I to spend a night here? And even when that was over … what then?

But they must come to look for me. Grand’mere would see to that. She would not have missed me yet… not until it was time for us to go to bed.

Then she would grow alarmed.

I went again to the door and hammered on it in frustration. I called for help. How stupid of me. As if anyone would hear. It was so gloomy here. Down in the underground chamber there would be a faint light from that open slit high in the wall of the chamber but just above ground level outside. It was enough to let in a little air and a little light.

I felt an impulse to descend the stairs.

I stood in the underground chamber … dark, gloomy, the coffins on the ledges, the statues seeming, in my present mood, as though they had come to life. Satan’s sceptre seemed to move. I had a notion that he was giving his attention to me.

I turned my eyes away and stared at the opening in the wall. Perhaps if I went close and shouted, I should be heard by someone. But what was the use? There would be no one there to hear me.

I could not bear to remain in the chamber with the gloom and the darkness and the presence of Death. Yet if I was to be heard I must be there … because of that gap. I stared at it. It seemed to offer me my only hope of communication with the outside world.

How long should I stay here? Surely Charles must realize what I was feeling. He would come back soon feeling he had punished me enough. I remembered what Cassie had said. Her hair would turn white overnight. I touched my hair tentatively. I could not be here all through the night. No one could be so cruel… not even Charles.

But people were cruel. I should never forget the boys who had stoned Willie’s dog. Such pointless violence was the product of minds that had grown vicious because they were empty of everything else. But Charles was not like that. Charles had had education. This was not mindless cruelty. It was revenge.

I had repulsed him; and because of my humble birth he had objected fiercely to that—and he was teaching me a lesson.

I prayed again to the statue of the Virgin and the Child. I sat down on the lowest step and resisted the urge to run up to the top and shut out the sight of that gloomy chamber with its statues and remains of the dead. I noticed the moisture trickling down the walls and saw two drops running parallel as though in a race. How could one notice such things at such a time?

I thought: Shall I die down here? Suppose they never find me. I remembered the bride who on her wedding day had hidden in a chest; the lock clicked and she could not escape. The players hunted for her … but she was not found … not until years later when someone opened the chest and found the remains of her in her wedding gown.

The story had always intrigued me. Poor bride! How had she felt when she could not get out? At least my case was not quite so hopeless.

He will come back, I assured myself. This is just to tease me. He will leave me here for perhaps an hour and then he will come and unlock the door and laugh at me.

How long had passed? I had no way of knowing. When one was in this state one was unaware of time.

Silence … that terrible silence. I listened, my ears strained for some sound … some indication that someone was near. I longed to hear a sound … any sound.

There was nothing.

I walked back to the stairs. I felt I was being watched by a ghostly unseen presence. There was still light coming through the gap. It must be fairly sunny outside. So it was not night yet.

When it was quite dark something would happen.

I sat on the lower step in despair.

Was it an hallucination or did I hear the barking of a dog? I was alert listening. Yes … faintly … in the distance. It was coming from outside. I went across the chamber and stood immediately below the gap.

“Help! Help!” I cried. “I’m in the mausoleum … locked in.”

There was silence.

Then I heard the dog again. This time more distinctly and I shouted with all my might. I fancied a shadow crossed the gap.

“Help! Help! Get me out of here.”

The shadow was gone.

I stood for some time straining my ears. But now I could hear nothing.

I felt limp with despair. Had someone really been there or had I imagined it? Perhaps in my present state I had heard what I wanted to.

The silence was back and I was in despair. I was shivering, whether with cold or fear, I did not know.

No one will come this way, I told myself. If they did they would not hear me. I would stay here for the night unless Charles came back. He must.

Time was passing. I felt faint. My feet were numb; so were my hands. I could feel the cold from the stones penetrating through my clothes.

Grand’mere would be unaware as yet. She would be busy in the workroom. That always absorbed her. When she knew that I was missing she would be frantic. She would insist on their searching everywhere. But who would think of the mausoleum?

Then suddenly I heard a noise. The stairs seemed less dark. It was the scrape of the key turning in the lock. There was a shaft of light as the door was flung open.

Then a voice said: “Lenore, are you there?”

I heard the barking of a dog. I stumbled up the stairs. I was caught in someone’s arms.

“Drake …” I murmured. “Drake …”

Drake said: “It’s all right now. My God, you’re frozen.”

The dog was barking and I was pulled through into the open. The fresh air seemed intoxicating. I felt dizzy. I thought I was going to faint.

“It’s all right now. It’s all right now …” It was Drake’s voice. I saw Willie then … and I heard the dog again.

“I’ll get you back to the house,” said Drake.

Then I found myself sliding to the ground.

When I regained consciousness I was sitting on the step outside the gate and Drake was forcing my head between my knees.

“That’s better. You poor, poor child. How did it happen? Never mind. It’s all over now.”

“Drake,” I said.

“Yes, it’s Drake.”

“You’ve saved me.”

“Come on. I’m going to get you back quickly. You want a warm bed and something to soothe you. Can you stand up?”

I did so totteringly. I was aware of Willie who was looking on in amazement.

“Not very steady,” said Drake. Then he lifted me up.

“You can’t…”

“But I can. You’re as light as a feather. Come on. No time to lose.”

We went across to the house. I said: “Charles … he told you …” “Charles?”

“Charles locked me in.”

Drake did not speak; he just walked on in silence. As we came into the hall he said: “That was fine, Willie. You did well. Thank you. Miss Cleremont will thank you when she gets better.”

“So it was Willie,” I said.

”He heard you calling and had the sense to come to the house. I saw him and he told me, so I got the key and came at once.” I felt such relief that I could not speak. I saw Mrs. Dillon and Clarkson.

“My goodness gracious me,” said Mrs. Dillon. “Whatever next?”

And there was Grand’mere.

She took charge at once. I was to be taken up to my bedroom. In a short time I was lying on my bed, covered with blankets and a hot water bottle pressed against my feet. Grand’mere was seated by my bed. I slept fitfully. I kept waking and thinking I was in the mausoleum. I cried out in fear. Grand’mere was there beside me all through the night. She gave me a soothing drink with herbs. And finally I passed into a peaceful sleep, confident that she would not leave me, so that if I woke in terror, I should be comforted by her presence.

The next morning I felt better, but Grand’mere insisted that I stay in bed. I had been chilled to the bone, she said, and I had had a terrible fright.

I told her about it, beginning with the episode at the party.

“It was his revenge on me, you see, Grand’mere,” I explained.

”Mon Dieu,” she murmured,’ “to think that he could do such a thing! He is one to beware of. But at least, ma petite, we now know the man we have to deal with. I wish I could get you away from here. Philip is a gentle, kindly boy … so different. But this one. Malevolent… that is what he is. But, ma cherie, it could have been worse. When I think of you alone in that place and what he might have done … I have always wanted to tell you about the dangers. You are not such a little girl now. You will catch the eyes … as you have done with Charles. I thank the good God that this was not worse. Oh, I know of your ordeal … of your terror. How could you not be afraid … to be shut up in that place? But this … it is over. It is a bad, bad dream… . But when I think of what a man of his nature might have done … Then there would have been the great damage. That would have been something for, which I could have killed him. But for this I would too … but for that other …”

I knew what she meant and I knew that I had something for which to be thankful.

“There must be no more of him,” went on Grand’mere. “He will be away soon and we shall be free of him. I cannot be happy while he is in the house.”

“He hates me, Grand’mere.”

“For wounding his vanity, for refusing him. Yes … he is a montagne of deceit, that one. He thinks he is handsome and irresistible. One must beware of such men. But at least we know what we have to deal with. It is a warning. Once you have recovered from this, you will forget it. It will fade. It is like a nightmare that happened to be real. But it sometimes is good to know the nature of people who live close to us. So … something good comes out of evil. We now know what we have to consider in this Charles.”

“And we shall be together, Grand’mere.”

”While I am wanted, I am here. When you are older you will have a husband and children … and grand’meres … they are not then of such importance. Never mind. It is natural and right that this should be so. But for the time… we are together, eh? And while I am with you I will watch over you … and you will tell me when you are afraid. I know that in time you are going to be happy. I want you to have all your mother missed, She was thoughtlessly happy … too trusting. Well, that is in the past and this is the present, and we must live in that.”

I woke up next morning with a terrible fear for a moment that I was in the mausoleum. Then the familiar objects in my room began to take shape. Grand’mere came to my bed.

“You have had a good night’s sleep,” she said.

“You’ve been here all the time.”

“I was quite comfortable dozing in the chair. Now I am going to get you something nice and soothing. Some porridge, I think … a little bread and butter. Mrs. Dillon suggested the porridge. She said it was soothing. They are all very anxious to help. Clarkson is annoyed because Charles took the key without asking him for it.”

I ate the breakfast and said I wanted to get up but Grand’mere thought I should rest for a while.

“You were frozen to the marrow. I don’t want you catching a cold.”

I felt limp and unreal and was not averse to agreeing to stay in bed. She brought me Jane Eyre to read. I had read it before but I had enjoyed it so much and always felt so sorry for Jane that it made me feel how fortunate I was.

I told Grand’mere that she must not sit with me all day. It made me feel like an invalid, and if she were in the workroom, 1 knew that she was close.

“You’ve had a big shock,” she said. “I feel that is more to be considered than the cold you endured in that place. You were there for three hours. Enough to chill anyone’s bones … but the fact of your being there was probably the worst. So now you will rest.”

Cassie came to see me. She stood by my bed looking at me with a kind of wondering tenderness.

“It’s all right, Cassie,” I said. “I’m not there now.”

“I can’t tell you how I felt when I heard that you were there for three hours. I should have died.”

“I thought I was going to die there.”

“Your hair hasn’t changed a bit.” She was peering at me, “There’s no white … and it should show … your being so dark.”

“I think I’m getting over it now … though I dreamed of it last night quite a lot and when I woke up I had a terrible feeling that I might still be there.”

“I can imagine nothing more horrible.”

“There are more horrible things.”

“You are very brave, Lenore.”

“You should have seen me shivering … thinking of all sorts of horrors … watching for the ghosts … I was far from brave.”

“There has been a lot of trouble,” she said. “It has been terrible. Mama is most distressed. She is in her room with the curtains drawn and no one but Miss Logan is to go near her.”

”What happened then?”

“Drake … and Charles … they fought. It was all about you. Drake got Charles on the ground and made him tell about locking you in the mausoleum. Charles said it was his affair and he was only teaching you a lesson. You needed to be taken down a peg or two because you gave yourself too many airs for a servant.

”Drake shouted at him and said he was a cad … and worse than that. He said he had sent that stable boy to get you in the place so that he could lock you in. Charles said he didn’t deny it and what business was it of Drake’s? Drake said it was every decent-minded person’s business and as he was so fond of giving lessons he was going to get one himself. We couldn’t believe it. They were quite different from what they are normally. Drake being bigger than Charles was able to pick him up as though he were a dog, and he just shook him. At the end he threw him into the lake. Julia was crying. I was near to it. I have never seen anything like it.”

“What about Charles in the lake?”

“He walked out. He wasn’t very far in but by that time Drake had gone back to the house. He packed his bag and presented himself to Mama and said he had to leave. He was called away suddenly. Mama was in a terrible state. But, of course, she had to say goodbye to Drake, and he came out and asked one of the stablemen to drive him to the station … and then he was gone.”

“How … awful! What about Charles?”

“He’s going tonight. He won’t say where … except that he is going to stay with a friend and he will go straight on from there to the University.”

“So … they’ve both gone … and it was all because of me.”

”Drake couldn’t stay in a house where he had had such a fight with his host. As for Charles, perhaps he is ashamed of what happened. Philip is very worried about you.”

“Philip has always been kind to me.”

“I think he will be along soon. He wanted to see you last night but Madame Cleremont said it was best you were not disturbed.”

“What a dreadful end to the holiday!”

“I don’t suppose anything like this has ever happened before, do you?”

“I should think it would be very rare.”

When she left me I lay back thinking about Drake coming into the mausoleum, picking me up and bringing me back to the house. I should probably never see him again. He certainly would not come to The Silk House as Charles’s guest. They must hate each other. I felt a mingling of feelings. I was gratified that he had defended me; it was almost like fighting in the lists or in a duel. It made me feel important and after the humiliation Charles had inflicted on me, I needed that. But I was sorry that I should not see Drake again.

Philip came to see me.

“My dear Lenore,” he said, “this is most upsetting. What a terrible time you had!”

“It is good of you to come to see me,” I answered. “You might have felt you didn’t want to after all the trouble this has caused.”

”You’ve heard then about Drake?”

“Cassie told me. …”

“I ‘m so ashamed of my brother, Lenore.”

“I always knew he was not as kind as you are.”

“I think he is rather arrogant… going through a phase just now. He wants to assert himself. I’m sure it will pass. He is not such a bad sort really.”

I smiled at Philip. He was one of those people who mean well towards the whole world and think everyone else is like themselves.

“How are you feeling now?”

“I’m being cosseted by Grand’mere, and everyone seems to be very kind. Even Mrs. Dillon said I must eat porridge.”

He laughed, then he was sober. “It must have been very frightening for you.”

“It was. And I should be there now if it wasn’t for Willie and Pepper.”

“Good for Willie. I suppose Drake felt he couldn’t stay after such a violent quarrel with Charles.”

”And Charles is going, too.”

“He’s going this evening.”

“I’m afraid I’ve broken up the party.”

“Charles did that by behaving like a brute. I’m not surprised that Drake was angry with him and gave vent to his anger, too.”

“You can imagine how I feel to be the centre of it all.”

“The centre of it is Charles’s beastly vanity. He’s had a big lesson.”

”But Drake has been driven away.”

“He wouldn’t stay after that. How could he … as Charles’s guest. He’s had a good thrashing and been thrown into the lake. Don’t be afraid of what Charles will do now.

We shan’t see him here for a while, I reckon. All you have to do is get well.”

“I’m not ill… just shaken.”

“It was enough to shake anybody. You’ll be all right in a day or so. I’m going to look after you. Cassie and I have decided we must do that. My father is coming home soon. He wants to talk to us very seriously about the business. He’ll want to talk to Charles as well as to me, of course.”

“But Charles is leaving.”

“I don’t think Charles cares very much about the business, He happens to be the elder, but I am the one my father really wants to discuss things with. I’m going to persuade him to let me finish with my education. I want to go into the business … now.”

“Do you think he will agree?”

”I have an idea he might. He is so pleased that I am interested in it. Charles isn’t in the least and that upsets him. But at least there is one of us.”

It was pleasant talking to him. I liked his enthusiasm and his kindness. There was something very natural about him. When he left me I felt a good deal better. I was glad Charles would be leaving that night and I should not have to see him again perhaps for quite a long time.

I was unprepared for Julia.

After Philip left she came into my room. She looked as if she had been crying and she was very angry. She stood at the foot of my bed glaring at me.

“It’s your fault,” she said. “I thought Drake was going to kill Charles.”

“I’ve heard about it. I’m sorry it happened.”

“You started it.”

”I? I did not ask to be locked in the mausoleum.”

“You told tales. You told Drake. I’ve watched you. You were always trying to get his attention … and you thought this was n good way of doing it.”

“Julia, what are you saying? Do you think I wanted to be locked in that awful place? I was scared almost out of my wits. It was awful… with all those coffins.”

“But Drake came and rescued you, didn’t he? That was what you wanted.”

“He came because Willie heard me there and went to find someone. It just happened that he found Drake.”

“He’s gone and I don’t suppose I shall ever see him again.” Her lips trembled. “We were getting on so well … and you had to spoil it.”

”Julia,” I said firmly,’ ‘it wasn’t my fault. It was Charles …”

She just looked at me stonily and ran out of the room. I could see that she was ready to burst into tears.

I knew, of course, that she had felt deeply about Drake, and now she was blaming me because she had lost him.