Time of the Hunter's Moon

Marcia

I WAS rather surprised that I had won so easily for when I made my rounds after there was no more trouble. The girls were in their right beds and although Charlotte ignored me and Eugenie was a trifle sullen, I found the others quite charming; and Teresa made it clear that she was my slave.

I knew that Charlotte taunted her with being a toady and that Eugenie showed her clearly that she despised her, but oddly Teresa-no doubt because she felt she was sure of my support-had developed a little more boldness and seemed to be able to deal with their taunts.

I found lessons stimulating. I had a subject very dear to my heart - English literature - and it was very interesting for me to read my favourite Jane Austen and the Shakespeare plays with closer attention than I had given them before, to read them with the girls, to dissect them, and search for hidden meanings. I had four classes a week on this subject and therefore took all the girls in the school at some time, which meant that Charlotte and Eugenie were in two of the classes. Charlotte refused to work, and Eugenie-who was a year or so younger and very much under her influence-tried not to, but I was amused to discover that she had a genuine love of literature and could not entirely suppress her interest. Teresa was there trying very hard to please me. I was really enjoying it.

The social classes were less successful, I imagined.

We discussed all sorts of subjects and the girls had to learn how to walk and act gracefully-just as we had at Schaffenbrucken. It was all rather amusing.

I enjoyed the sessions in the calefactory. Some times Daisy joined us there. We were more free and easy when she was not present, of course. I learned that the Hon. Charlotte-as she was ironically referred to-was considered to be a universal bête noire. "Clogs to clogs," said Miss Parker who prided herself on her frank speaking. "I should be very pleased to see the Hon. Charlotte in hers." Teresa was a mouse, they said. A silly timid little thing.

I defended her and pointed out that it was due to her background.

Eugenie was a terror, was Miss Parker's comment. "She's a Verringer and that is about the worst tag you could fit onto anyone. Fiona's a nice little thing, however."

Matt Greenway, the riding master, who happened to be present on that occasion, added that it was difficult to believe they both came out of the same stable.

"Quite different in looks and character," said Eileen Eccles. "It's amazing. And they talk about heredity. To me, it's environment that counts."

"Presumably their environment was the same," I pointed out. "They were both brought up at the Hall apparently."

"Well, they say the mother was gentle and meek. Rather like Fiona, I imagine. As for Eugenie, she's got the Verringer devil in her."

I enjoyed those gossipy sessions and they helped me a great deal in getting to know the girls and that was a tremendous asset when dealing with them. Eileen Eccles was perhaps more interested in people than the others and she provided a great deal of information.

"We shall be stuck with Teresa again this coming summer, I gather," she said. "Her relations have written to say they'll be away for several months."

"Poor child," I said. "It must be boring for her being here all alone for the summer."

"I suppose it's too much to expect the parents to get her out to Rhodesia. No sooner would she be there than she would have to start back. I'm sorry for the girl. I am really."

I had Teresa on my mind quite a bit. When I came out of class she would often be hanging about offering to carry my books for me. I had seen the supercilious looks of Charlotte but Teresa did not seem to care, though I gathered that in the past she had been afraid of Charlotte.

Then there was the gossip about the Verringer girls.

"Eugenie," said Mademoiselle throwing up her hands in horror. "She is one naughty little girl." Frâulein Kutcher expressed the opinion that there was too much homage paid to the Verringers. It set them apart.

"I think there is something in that," said Eileen Eccles.

Matt Greenway said: "Eugenie will be a real horse-woman." As though that made up for her failings in other directions.

"They'll be very rich ... those two girls," said Eileen.

"It is not good for them to know this," put in Mademoiselle.

"But they do know it," insisted Eileen, "and it seems to have gone to Miss Eugenie's head." "How rich are they?" I asked.

"Infinitely," replied Eileen with a laugh. "I did hear something about uncle's liking to get his hands on the money."

"Uncle? You mean Sir Jason?"

"I do indeed, my dear, if you must give him his rightful title."

"Is he not rich then?"

"As Midas ... or Croesus if you prefer. But you know money has that effect on some people. The more they have, the more they want. Ever since the King favoured them and bestowed on them the Abbey lands, they have been piling it up. So have our two Little heiresses. They divide the brother's fortune when they come of age or marry, and I believe if Fiona dies it all goes to Eugenie, and if Eugenie should visit that bourn from which no traveller returns, then Fiona takes all."

"Yes," I said. "I do agree that it is a mistake for young people to know that they are rich. Though Fiona seems a very pleasant modest young girl."

"It is because you are making comparisons. Most people compared with Eugenie would seem pleasant and modest."

We all laughed.

"Oh, I am sure Fiona is," I said.

Yes, the days were passing pleasantly. I found that I could do what was expected of me and Daisy was pleased with the contribution I made to the school. She was sure my classes were getting more and more like Schaffenbrucken every day.

I very much enjoyed the riding sessions. The enthusiasm of Matt Greenway had communicated itself to the girls and most of them had that natural affinity young girls have for the horse.

Whenever we set out for rides I was always prepared for a pleasant time. Even the Hon. Charlotte seemed tolerable on a horse; it was as though at last she had found something for which she had more consideration than she had for herself. She adored her horse; and Eugenie was almost as fanatical about hers. It was interesting, I pointed out in the calefactory, how much more human Hon. Charlotte became when she was on horseback.

Very often two of us went with the girls. Daisy thought that was better than one so that there was someone in authority at the head and rear of the party.

The exercise was pleasant and I suppose I did this about twice a week, for the girls rode every day. Then Daisy had given me permission to take a horse whenever I wanted one, provided it was not during the girls' riding time. So it was a very happy arrangement.

I wrote to Aunt Patty that I was settling in and enjoying my work. I would tell her everything in detail when I arrived home for the summer holidays.

When I had a free hour or so between lessons, I made a habit of taking out the horse which I usually rode, and exploring the countryside. I liked walking but naturally one could only go a certain distance on foot, and riding gave me far more scope.

When I walked I liked to do so within the Abbey precincts and I could never do this without experiencing that uncanny feeling that I was stepping back into the past. The atmosphere was overwhelming even in the brightest sunlight and I would find myself fancying I heard footsteps following me on the flags. Once I thought I heard chanting. But I convinced myself it was the whistling of the wind. There were times when I was drawn to the ruins by an irresistible urge to be there; at such times I believe I really expected to see some manifestation of the past.

Eileen Eccles, who had made several drawings of parts of the ruins, said she felt the same. In some of her pictures she had sketched in white-clad figures. "I just found myself putting them in," she said. "It was as though they belonged."

I thought that rather strange, for she was a very prosaic person on the whole.

But it was true that no one, however matter-of-fact, could live close to such antiquity and not be affected by it.

Eileen often took her classes out to parts of the Abbey and it was not unusual to come across them seated at some vantage point, sketch books in hand. Miss Hetherington wanted the girls to have a real appreciation of their surroundings, for it was just that environment which set the Academy apart from other schools.

On this particular occasion I had no class until three thirty, and as the midday meal was over at two, I had an hour and a half in which to take a ride. It was a lovely day. We were in the middle of June and I could scarcely believe I had been so long at the school. I really felt as though I had known it for a long time. I could look back on the last weeks with satisfaction. I could do my work adequately. My English classes were as successful as I could hope for; I had one or two girls who showed great interest and to my amazement Eugenie Verringer was one of them. The Hon. Charlotte continued to be troublesome and to annoy me in a hundred ways-whispering during classes, urging others to disobedience, tormenting Teresa Hurst - in fact generally making a nuisance of herself; and she had her cronies besides Eugenie. But these were minor irritations and the inevitable lot of anyone who taught. The teacher must sometimes expect to be a target, especially if she was not very much older than the pupils.

I had evidently found the right way to keep just ahead of Charlotte and I was thankful for her devotion to horses which gave me a weapon to use against her. She would always fall short of doing something which would deprive her of one moment with her beloved horse.

These were my thoughts as I rode out on that June afternoon. I reminded myself-as I often did-of how I had been lost on my first venture and as there must be no repetition of that, I always noted well the way I came. There might not be anyone to show me the way this time. Not that Sir Jason had been much help on that other occasion. I had confirmed my suspicions, since I had been riding round a little on my own, and I knew now that he had taken me a very long way round on my way back to the town.

Why, I wondered? He had known I was anxious to get back. Because he was perverse? Because he knew that I was anxious? Because he wanted me to feel lost and dependent on him? He was not really a pleasant man, and I hoped that I should not have to see him often. It was a pity that the school was so near the Hall.

I turned away from the town taking a road which I had not taken before, making a special note of the landscape as I passed so that I should know my way back. I passed a tree with its bare branches standing out starkly among others which were in full leaf. It must have been struck by lightning or blasted in some way. It was dead. But how beautiful it was! Strange, in a way it looked ghostly, eerie, menacing even with its bare branches lifted to the sky.

It was a good landmark.

I went up a lane and came to a house. I noticed the tall elms about it and looking up I saw the rooks' nests high in the trees.

Something someone had said flashed into my mind. I had heard of this place.

And there was the house-simple but beautiful clearly built at the time when architecture was at its most elegant-uncluttered, with long windows symmetrically placed on its brickwork, very plain so that the door with its fluted Doric type columns and glass fanlight seemed particularly handsome. The house was shut in by intricate ironwork which looked like lace and made a perfect frame for this charming residence.

I couldn't help pausing to admire and as I was about to ride on, the door opened and a woman came out. She was holding a child by the hand.

"Good afternoon," she called. "You can't go any further. It's a cul-de-sac."

"Oh thank you," I replied. "I was exploring and I paused to admire your house."

"It is rather pleasant, isn't it?"

"Very"

She was coming towards the railing. "You are from the school, aren't you?" "Yes. How did you know?"

"Well, I've seen most of them, but you are new." "I came at the beginning of the term."

"Then you must be Miss Grant."

"Yes, I am."

"One hears quite a lot in a place like this," she said. "How are you liking the school?"

She was up to the fence now. She was strikingly handsome in her dress of lilac-coloured muslin. Tall, willowy, she carried herself with an almost studied grace. Her abundant reddish brown hair was piled high on her head; her eyes were enormous, light brown, heavily lashed.

The child surveyed me with interest in her bright dark eyes.

"This is Miranda," said the woman.

"Hello, Miranda," I said.

Miranda continued to regard me with an unblinking stare.

"Would you like to come in? I'd show you the house. It's quite interesting."

"I'm afraid I haven't time. I have a class at three thirty."

"Perhaps another time. I'm Marcia Martindale."

Marcia Martindale! Sir Jason's mistress. Then the child was his. I felt myself recoil a little. I hoped she did not notice. I felt an immense pity for her. It must be most unpleasant to be a woman in her position. She would have placed herself in it, of course, but in what circumstances? My dislike for Sir Jason Verringer increased in that moment. What sort of man could he be to bring his mistress so near to his home and blatantly set her up in her own establishment with their child?

"Thank you," I heard myself say. "Another time ..."

"I'd be so glad to see you at Rooks' Rest."

I looked up at the tall elms. "Do the birds disturb you with their cawing?"

"One gets used to it. It wouldn't be the same without them."

"It is a beautiful house. It looks cool ... and aloof, as it were ... almost modern when compared with the Abbey and the Tudor Hall."

"It is very confortable and I am fond of it."

"You have lived in it for a long time, I suppose?"

"No. I came here just before Miranda was born. We're on the Verringer estate, you know. Well, most of the land about here is."

"Yes," I said coolly.

"Do come again. I like to hear about the school. Come when you have time. Have a cup of tea or a glass of something ... whatever you fancy. I hear that you are doing well at the school."

"Oh, where did you hear that?"

"One hears ..." She turned to the child. "I don't think we are going to persuade her to come in, Miranda," she said.

Miranda continued to regard me stolidly.

"She seems very interested in me at least," I said.

"Miranda is interested in everything about her and particularly people. Do promise to come and see me. I love to see people and I see so few."

"Thank you. I will. I'll wait until I have a free afternoon. That doesn't happen often but it does come round now and then."

"Do please do that."

"Goodbye," I said.

She stood waving to me, raising the child's arm and urging her to do the same.

I came quickly out of the lane past the dead tree which was raising its arms to the sky, despairingly it now seemed to me.

What a friendly woman! I thought. She is really beautiful. How could she so demean herself? His mistress... bearing his child ... perhaps in the hope that because she could bring about such an achievement, when he was free he would marry her. Well, he was free now.

My revulsion against him was increasing every minute. He was arrogant, I knew. Could it really be that he was a murderer. He appeared to believe he had a right to take what he wanted no matter what he did to others who were in his way.

Thinking of that woman I felt very depressed. I wished I had not let my afternoon's relaxation take me past Rooks' Rest.

June was almost over and at the end of July we should break up for the holidays. I was very much looking forward to seeing Aunt Patty and how she had settled into her new home, although of course she wrote often and told me the details of her new friendships and the frolics and mishaps which for her turned out to be hilarious adventures.

That afternoon I had a free session and was to take the girls on their ride. Miss Barston was to accompany me. I would rather have had Eileen Eccles or Miss Parker because Miss Barston was not the best of riders and was, I fancied, more nervous on a horse than she should be.

On another occasion she had made excuses so I was not surprised when Daisy called me to her study just as we were about to leave.

"Miss Barston says she has a great deal of preparation to do if she is to get the samplers ready for next lesson. She was planning to do it this afternoon. None of the others has any spare time."

"That's all right," I said. "I can manage. It is the older girls and most of them are good riders."

Daisy looked relieved. "I am so glad you add this accomplishment to your others."

"The riding sessions are very enjoyable," I said.

And that was how we came to set out that afternoon with only one mistress in charge-myself.

There were ten girls. Teresa was there. I knew that she would be riding close to me. She had never lost her nervousness but seemed to feel that I was a sort of talisman or lucky charm, and when she was close to me she lost much of that tension which conveyed itself to the horse-and that could mean trouble.

Charlotte was there with the two Verringer girls.

We trotted through the lanes in good order, Charlotte keeping up the rear with Fiona and Eugenie. I often had a niggling fear that when Charlotte was of the party she would attempt to show her superiority in some way and cause trouble. She was quite capable of urging some of them, who did not have her skill, to take risks. I had warned her of this with the only threat which would work with her. Unless her behaviour was beyond reproach she would find she was not riding so often.

Teresa trotted along beside me, a little uneasy as she would always be on a horse, but the improvement in her was amazing. In time she would Jose her nervousness, I assured myself.

We were talking about the trees and the plants, a subject in which Teresa was very interested and in which she certainly excelled; and she was delighted when she could tell me the names of plants of which I had never heard.

Ahead of us I could see the Hall. It was a most imposing house built in the Tudor style but seeming of an earlier age, because instead of the customary red brick it was in the grey stone of the Abbey. Much of the stone had been taken from the Abbey which gave it its distinction. I could see the broad low arch flanked on either side by tall octagonal towers. Many gables and turrets caught the eye - all dominated by the tall Gate House.

As we came close to it, suddenly a light carriage appeared on the road. It was drawn by two magnificent grey horses and was pelting along at a dangerous speed. It appeared to be coming straight for us. I called to the girls to slow down and draw in to the side of the road. The carriage was close. I heard Teresa cry out and then her horse was off. It bolted right in front of the carriage and across the road to the Hall.

I spurred up my horse and galloped after her.

"Don't be frightened, Teresa," I shouted .. . She wouldn't hear me, of course.

I reached her just as she was thrown out of the saddle onto the grass in front of the Hall. I dismounted and ran to her. She lay still and was very pale.

"Teresa ..." I cried. "Oh, Teresa ..."

To my immense relief she opened her eyes and looked at me. I thanked God she was alive.

The carriage was close by and a man jumped out of the driver's seat and ran towards us. It was Jason Verringer.

My greatest emotion then was anger. "So it was you," I cried. "You're mad ... This child ..."

He took no notice of me but knelt and bent over Teresa.

"Here," he said. "You've taken a toss. We all do that at some time. Anything broken? Let's see if you can stand up."

Teresa shrank from him. "Miss Grant," she whispered.

I said: "It's all right, Teresa. I'm here to take care of you. You don't appear to be badly hurt. Let's see if you can stand."

Jason Verringer helped her to get up. It was clear that she could stand without pain.

"I don't think there are any bones broken," he said. "I'll get the doctor to have a look at her right away. Now I'm going to carry you in," he said to Teresa.

She looked at me appealingly.

"I'll be with you," I said. "Don't be afraid, Teresa. I'm going to stay with you."

I remembered then that I was in charge of the whole party. I saw the girls on their horses, watching, appalled by what had happened.

My horse was quietly nibbling the grass. I could not see Teresa's.

I went over to the girls.

I said: "You've seen what happened to Teresa. They are going to send for a doctor. I don't think she is badly hurt. I want you all to go back to the school and tell Miss Hetherington what has happened." I looked at Charlotte. I went on: "Charlotte, I am putting you in charge."

There was a faint flush on her cheeks and I saw her head shoot up and the look of pride on her face.

"You are a good horse-woman and you are in the lead. Look after everyone. Make sure they keep with you." I had cast my eyes over the party and made sure that they were all there. "Get the girls back as soon as you can and tell Miss Hetherington that Teresa is at the Hall and that I shall stay with her until she is fit to ride back. Is that under stood?"

"Yes, Miss Grant," said Charlotte earnestly. "Now go," I said. "All follow Charlotte and do as e says. There is nothing to be afraid of. Teresa is not badly hurt."

I watched them ride off. Then I turned towards the Hall.

My fear was rapidly turning to anger. He had done this. He was the one who had thoughtlessly driven out at such a fast and furious pace. He had startled the horses and Teresa had been unable to control hers. And I was in charge!

I walked hastily into the Hall, through the door over which was an ornate coat of arms carved into the stone. I was in a vast hall with a vaulted ceiling. Weapons adorned the walls and a family tree was carved over the fireplace. Several people stood in the hall and they all looked scared.

"The little girl is in the blue bedroom, Miss," said a man who was clearly an important person in his own right-a butler or major-domo I imagined. "The doctor has already been sent for and Sir Jason says would you be so good as to go up there as soon as possible. One of the maids will take you."

I nodded and followed a girl up the carved staircase, the posts of which were decorated with Tudor roses and fleurs-de-lys.

In a bedroom with blue curtains and touches of the same colour throughout the room, Teresa lay on a bed. Her relief at the sight of me was obvious.

Jason Verringer turned as I entered.

"The doctor should be here within half an hour. I have told him he is urgently needed. I am sure she is not badly hurt, but it is wise to have a doctor in such cases. No bones are broken evidently. There may be a little shock, concussion ..."

"Stay here, Miss Grant," said Teresa.

"Of course I will."

"Miss Grant will stay here as long as you do," said Jason Verringer in a gentle voice which seemed somehow incongruous coming from him.

I could not look at him. I was so angry. This was his fault. He had no right to be driving at such speed through narrow lanes.

He brought a chair so that I could sit down by the bed.

"Miss Grant," whispered Teresa. "What of the others? Where are they?"

"They've gone back to school. I put Charlotte in charge. She's the best horse-woman. She'll manage." "I don't want to ride again ... ever. I never did.

I was so frightened."

"Don't worry about it now. Just lie quietly." One of the maids came.

She said: "It's hot sweet tea. Mrs. Keel says it do be the best thing times like these."

"It can't do any harm," said Jason Verringer. "Could you drink it, Teresa?" I asked.

She hesitated. I put my arm about her and lifted her up. She sipped it and a little colour came back into her cheeks.

The minutes ticked by and it seemed more like an hour before the doctor came.

"You had better stay here while he examines her, Miss Grant," said Jason Verringer, and he went out leaving me with Teresa and the doctor.

The examination revealed that Teresa was badly bruised but that no bones were broken. She had had a lucky escape. She was terribly shaken though. I noticed how her hands trembled.

The doctor said: "You lie there and you'll soon be all right. You're best in bed."

I followed him out of the room. Jason Verringer was in the corridor waiting.

"Well?" he said.

"She's all right," said the doctor. "But very shocked. She's a nervous girl, isn't she?"

"Yes," I said, "she is."

"There might be a touch of concussion. I think it very likely. She should not be moved for a day or so. Well, not today in any case."

"There's no problem about that," said Jason Verringer. "She can stay here."

"That would be wisest," said the doctor looking at me.

"I think she would be happier if we could get her back to the school," I said. "It's not very far."

"That's quite unnecessary," put in Jason Verringer. "She'll be perfectly all right here. She shouldn't be moved, should she, doctor?"

The doctor hesitated.

"Should she?" repeated Jason Verringer.

"I'd rather she wasn't," said the doctor.

I frowned.

"The girl doesn't want to be separated from Miss Grant," said Jason Verringer. He smiled.

"There's no reason why she should be. The Hall is big enough to accommodate both the girl and Miss Grant."

The doctor smiled apologetically at me. I must have conveyed my repulsion at staying in the Hall. "I wouldn't want her upset in her present state," he said. "Sir Jason's solution seems the best in the circumstances."

I felt very upset. The relief that Teresa was not badly hurt had no sooner come than this further problem presented itself. I knew I could not leave Teresa. On the other hand I loathed the thought of spending a night under this roof.

The less anxious I felt about Teresa the more angry I was with Jason Verringer. He had been the cause of the accident, and now he was more or less telling the doctor what he must say.

I had a notion that the idea of my spending a night under his roof was amusing him, and that he was as eager that it should happen as I was that it should not.

I heard myself say in a voice which I hoped was steady: "Miss Hetherington will have to be informed."

"She will know of the accident by now. I will send over to her immediately and tell her what the doctor says. Thank you so much, doctor. There is nothing else we can do, I suppose?"

"I will send up some liniment." He looked at me. "Apply it once ... and once only. It is too strong to use often. It should help the bruises. Then I will send some medicine to soothe her. If she has concussion that might not be immediately obvious. Don't let her get excited. She should be herself in a week ... or less, providing there are not unforeseen consequences."

Jason Verringer went off with the doctor and I went back to Teresa. She was greatly relieved to see me and I assured her that everything was going to be all right.

Teresa closed her eyes and seemed to sleep, and it must have been half an hour later when a maid arrived to tell me that Miss Hetherington was below. I went down to the hall with all speed.

On the way down I glanced through a window and saw the school carriage with Emmet in the driving seat.

Daisy Hetherington was seated at a table with Jason Verringer beside her.

"Here is the excellent Miss Grant," said Jason. "Oh, Cordelia," said Daisy, forgetting ceremony at such a moment. "The child is not harmed, I believe."

"She is sleeping now. I think it is mainly shock." "That this should have happened to one of our girls!"

"These things will happen when drivers take their carriages along the road at such speed as to frighten everyone nearby."

Daisy looked faintly shocked and a Little alarmed. "I know that accidents will happen," she murmured.

My anger was hard to suppress. Because he had done this we had to shrug it aside, pretend it was a natural everyday happening. He gave me a kind of triumphant smirk.

Daisy went on as though I had not spoken. "Sir Jason tells me that the doctor says she should not be moved tonight."

"He did say that."

"It was good of you, Sir Jason, to send for the doctor so promptly and to offer hospitality."

"The least I could do," said Jason Verringer.

"Indeed yes," I began angrily even though Daisy was present and was reminding me that we had to be affable to our rich and powerful landlord.

Daisy said quickly: "Teresa must stay here for the night and as she is such a highly excitable girl and you, my dear, are the only one who can soothe her ... well, Sir Jason has most kindly invited you to stay here too."

I felt trapped. "That would be-" I began.

"The ideal arrangement," he interrupted. "I am sure Teresa will be happy enough to rest in peace if she knows you are at hand."

"Well, thank you so much, Sir Jason." Daisy had turned to me. "I will have certain things you will both need sent over. Now I think I must go. But I know I can leave Teresa safely in your hands, Cordelia. I must get back and make sure things settle to normal. They are in a state of excitement."

"Charlotte Mackay brought the girls back safely, I hope," I said.

"Oh yes, and clearly enjoyed her moment of authority. I haven't seen Charlotte so contented before. She was quite polite and docile. You did the best possible in the circumstances. Now I will send the things over and, on receiving a message tomorrow, Emmet will drive the carriage over and bring you back."

So it was settled.

Jason Verringer and I accompanied Daisy to her carriage.

"There is nothing to fret about," he said to her. "The girl is just shocked and I can see Miss Grant is a most sensible young lady."

I knew that Daisy was trying to hide a certain uneasiness and I guessed that she was no more happy about leaving me at the Hall than I was to stay. However, we were in this unfortunate situation and Daisy could see no diplomatic way out. Tactful relations with Sir Jason were necessary to the wellbeing of the school and the school was all important to Daisy.

"I will send Emmet over with what you need," were her parting words, and I stood disconsolately looking after her carriage.

Jason Verringer turned to smile at me.

"I am looking forward to the pleasure of dining with you, Miss Grant," he said.

"There is no need to stand on ceremony, Sir Jason. If something can be sent up to Teresa's room for both of us, we shall be very satisfied."

"But I should be most dissatisfied. You are an honoured guest and I want you to know it."

"I don't feel in the least honoured. This is something which should never have happened."

"You make it very clear that you blame me."

"How could you drive as you did! You should have known that you could frighten the horses. They are only girls ... not very practised some of them. It was thoughtless . . more than that, it was .. . criminal."

"You are hard on me. I was thoughtless, I admit. I have driven those greys several times a week and have never before encountered a party of schoolgirls hack-riding through the lanes. Perhaps I could say if I wanted to answer your recriminations that they should not have been on that stretch of road. But I won't go into that because I have no desire to displease you."

"You may say exactly what you wish. The girls always ride through the lanes. What is different about that one?"

"It happens to be the one which leads to my house."

"You mean it is your private property."

"Dear Miss Grant, you are a newcomer to Colby, otherwise you would know that most of the land hereabouts is my property."

"Does that mean that none of us has any right to be here?"

"It means that you are here by my permission and if I wish I could close any of the roads."

"Why do you not? Then at least we should know where we might ride and walk in safety."

"Let us go in. I have told them to prepare a room for you. It is one of our best rooms and fairly near the blue room."

I felt suddenly alarmed. There was something satanic about him. He looked complacent too and I did not care for the boldness of his expression. It ,was as though he was making plans and was very confident of their success.

"Thank you," I said coldly, "but I should prefer to stay in Teresa's room."

"We can't allow that."

"I'm afraid I could not allow anything else." "There is only one bed in the blue room."

"It is a very large one. I am sure Teresa would be happier if I shared it."

"I have asked them to prepare a room for you." "Then it will be ready for your next guest."

"I see," he said, "that you are determined to have things the way you want them."

"I am here to look after Teresa and that is what I intend to do. She has had a terrible shock thanks to..."

He looked at me reproachfully and I went on: "I would not want her to wake up in the night and wonder where she was. She might be alarmed. After all, there could be unpleasant after-effects of this fall. I should be with her."

"Teresa is very lucky. She has such a delightful and faithful watchdog."

"We shall be very comfortable, and thank you for allowing us to use your blue room."

"It is the least I can do."

"Yes," I said coolly.

He was smiling as we went in.

"You will of course dine with me," he said almost humbly.

"It is kind of you but I think I should be with Teresa."

"Teresa will need rest. When the sedative arrives the doctor wants her to take that right away." "I would not leave Teresa."

He bowed his head.

I went up to Teresa. She was very drowsy. "I'm so glad you're here, Miss Grant," she said.

"I am going to stay with you, Teresa. There is room for us both in this bed. It's a huge one, isn't it? A little different from those at school."

She smiled faintly and contentedly and closed her eyes.

Very soon Jason Verringer was at the door.

"The doctor has sent these," he said. "Here is the liniment. And this is the medicine. He has sent a note to say that she should be given this after you have applied the liniment. Then she should sleep through the night. That is what she needs more than anything."

"Thank you," I said, and I went with him to the door.

"When she is asleep ring the bell," he said. "I will send someone up to bring you down. It will not be a ceremonious meal- just a quiet little tête-à-tête."

"Thank you, but no. I do not think Teresa should be left."

I went back to Teresa and applied the liniment to die bruises. I thought how lucky she had been and my anger welled up once more.

"You will sleep here, won't you, Miss Grant?" pleaded Teresa.

"I certainly shall."

"I wouldn't like to be here on my own. I keep thinking of it. I heard the horses pounding along .. . and I knew old Cherry Ripe didn't like it ... she didn't like me either. I knew she was going to bolt and I shouldn't be able to hold her."

"Stop thinking of it. It's over now."

"Yes, and you're here and I'm never, never going to ride a horse again."

"We'll see how you feel about that later on."

"I don't need to wait till later on. I know now." "Now, Teresa, you're getting excited. You're not supposed to. Let's get this liniment done. What a Snell! Rather nice though, really. Does it smart? Well, that means it's doing you good. The doctor says it is very effective. You'll be all colours of the rainbow in a day or so."

I corked up the bottle and put it down. "Now you e going to have this dose and it will make you keep and you'll forget all about it. All you need to remember is that I am here and if you want anything you only have to tell me."

"Oh, I'm glad you're here. Is Miss Hetherington cross with me?"

"Of course not. She's as concerned as everyone else is."

"Charlotte will sneer now, won't she?"

"Charlotte behaved quite well really. She took the girls back. I am sure she wouldn't want you to be hurt."

"Then why is she always trying to hurt me?" "She doesn't really mean to hurt, only to deliver little pinpricks."

"I don't mind about her nearly so much as I used to. It was different when you came. It was because you were in Africa too, and then you came home to Aunt Patty. I wish I had Aunt Patty."

There was a discreet knock on the door. It was a maid with a case which she said had just been sent from the school. I opened it. In it was a note from Daisy saying that here were some things which she thought we might need. There were my night-clothes and those of Teresa and I was astonished to see that she had sent one of my dresses-my best blue silk.

I wanted to give Teresa her sedative, so I asked if she would care for me to help her into her nightgown as she would be more comfortable in that than in her undergarments. She had discarded her riding habit when examined by the doctor and it now lay over a chair. So I helped her undress and put on her nightgown. Then I said: "Drink this and then I think you are going to feel very sleepy."

She did. She went on talking for a little while in a desultory way, her voice growing more and more drowsy. The sedative was beginning to work.

"Teresa," I said gently, and there was no answer.

She looked very young and vulnerable lying there and I thought how sad it was that her parents were so far away and that the distant relatives in England did not want to be bothered with her. I wondered if her mother and father longed to have her with them; and my thoughts went once more to Aunt Patty and all I would have to tell her when I saw her again.

There was a gentle tap on the door. I crept to it and opened, it. Jason Verringer was standing there with a middle-aged woman.

"How is Teresa?" he asked.

"Sleeping. The sedative worked quickly."

"The doctor said it would. This is Mrs. Keel my very worthy housekeeper. She will sit with Teresa while we dine and if Teresa should awaken she will come for you immediately."

He was smiling at me with just a hint of triumph. I hesitated. I did not see how I could refuse. Mrs. Keel was smiling at me. "You can trust me," she said. "I'm used to looking after people."

There was no help for it. I had given way limply because I could not refuse before his housekeeper. It would be insulting to her to suggest that she was incapable of looking after Teresa-who was asleep in any case. So I should have to dine with him after all. I had to admit secretly that I was not as averse to the prospect as I had pretended to be. I did fend a certain pleasure in letting him know that I was not by any means attracted by him, because I was sure he was trying to impress me. From what I had heard of his reputation he was considered- or considered himself- irresistible to women. It would be amusing and rather stimulating to let him see that here was one who was quite immune to his masculine charms.

"It is good of you," I said to Mrs. Keel. "She is a sensitive girl ... and if she should awake ..."

"She is not likely to," said Jason Verringer. "And if by any chance she does, Mrs. Keel will immediately fetch you. So that is arranged. Mrs. Keel will come up in half an hour. If you are ready then we can go straight in to dinner."

Short of putting myself in the awkward position of explaining that I knew of his reputation and did not consider him a suitable companion, I could see no way out; and the only possible action was to accept graciously and get away as quickly as I could.

So I inclined my head in acknowledgement of the arrangements, thanked Mrs. Keel and said I would be ready in half an hour.

I changed into the blue silk and felt a certain pleasure because Daisy had sent that one which was my most becoming.

I brushed my hair until it shone. There was a faint and rare colour in my cheeks which brightened my eyes. Really, I thought. I am quite looking forward to this just for the pleasure of bringing home to him the fact that all women are not as impressed with him as he believes them to be.

Mrs. Keel tapped gently at the door. She came in and we stood side by side looking down on Teresa.

"She is sleeping deeply," I whispered.

Mrs. Keel nodded. "I'll call you at once if she wakes."

"Thank you," I said.

One of the maids was waiting outside to take me down, and I was conducted to a small room with a door which opened onto a courtyard. He was already there waiting for me, looking very satisfied.

"I thought we would eat in here," he said, "and then, if you have no objection, afterwards we could take coffee and port or brandy or something in the courtyard. It is pleasant out there on summer evenings. I often sit out there if I have a guest."

"That sounds very agreeable."

"You must be hungry, Miss Grant."

"I think the events of the day are enough to rob anyone of appetite."

"When you see our excellent duckling you will change your mind. I am sure you will appreciate our cook. I am very fortunate. I have good servants. It is the result of careful selection ... and training. You eat well at that exclusive establishment for young ladies, I believe."

"Yes. Miss Hetherington insists on that. Much of the produce comes from the Abbey gardens."

"Carrying on the old monastic traditions. Ah, traditions, Miss Grant. How they rule the lives of people like us. Do sit down. There ... opposite me so that I can see you. I always enjoy there intimate dinner parties more than those in the great hall. This, of course is only big enough for four at the most, but two is more suitable."

It was a charming room, oak-panelled with a painted ceiling on which fat cupids disported on fleecy clouds while an angel looked benignly on.

He saw me looking at it.

"It provides quite a celestial atmosphere, don't you think?"

I looked at him and the thought struck me that he was like Lucifer shut out of heaven. That seemed ridiculous and fanciful and far from the point. I was sure he would never allow himself to be shut out of any place he wanted to be in.

"Yes," I said. "It does. Although what cupids are doing up in the clouds, I am not sure."

"Looking for an unwary heart to pierce with the arrows of love."

"They would need a very sure aim if they planned to strike someone on earth ... even if the clouds are low-lying."

"You have a practical mind, Miss Grant, and I like that. Ah, here comes the soup. I trust it will be to your liking."

A discreet manservant was carrying in a tureen from which he served us. Then he produced a bottle of wine and poured it into the glasses.

"I hope also that you will approve of the wine," said Jason. Verringer. "I chose it specially. It is of a vintage year ... one of the best of the century."

"You should not take such pains on my account," I replied. "I am not a connoisseur and cannot really appreciate it."

"Didn't they teach appreciation of good wine at that very select school in Switzerland? I am surprised. You should have gone to that one in France ... I forget its name. I am sure the knowledge of wine would have come into their curriculum."

He tasted the wine and raised his eyes to the ceiling with an expression of mock ecstasy.

"Very fine," he said. "Your health, Miss Grant, and that of the girl upstairs."

I drank with him.

"And to us," he added. "You ... myself ... and our growing friendship which has begun in rather dramatic circumstances."

I took another sip and put down my glass.

He went on: "You must admit that all three occasions of our meeting have been unusual. First a hold-up in a narrow lane; then you are lost and I come to your rescue; and now this affair of the runaway horse, which has led to our being here together."

"Perhaps you are the sort of person to whom dramatic things happen."

He considered that. "I suppose something dramatic happens to most people now and then in their lifetimes. What of you?"

I was silent. My thoughts had gone back to that meeting in the forest and my uncanny-as it now seemed-encounter with a man who, according to a tombstone in Suffolk, had been long since dead. Strangely enough, this man, whose most outstanding quality was his vitality and firm grip on life, was reminding me more vividly of my strange experience than I had been for some time now.

He leaned forward. "I seem to have awakened memories."

He had a way of penetrating my thoughts which I found disconcerting.

"As I was involved in those events which you call dramatic, I suppose you would say I had experienced them too. Drama, like everything else, is in the mind of those who take part in it. I don't think I see those incidents-apart from what happened to Teresa-as dramatic."

"Do have some more soup."

"No, thanks. It was delicious, but I am too concerned about Teresa to give your food the attention it deserves."

"Perhaps at some later time you will make up for your neglect."

I laughed and he signed for the butler to bring in the duckling.

He asked about his nieces and how I thought the Academy was benefiting them. Out of loyalty to Daisy, I assured him that the benefits were great.

"Fiona is a quiet girl," he said. "She takes after her mother. But quiet people are sometimes deceptive. Out of your vast experience you will know that."

"I have learned that we know very little about anybody. There are always surprises in the human character. People say so and so acted out of character. That is not really so. They have acted according to some part of their character which they have not hitherto shown to the world."

"That's true. So we can expect Fiona one day to surprise us all."

"Perhaps."

"Eugenie not so, because nothing she did would surprise me very much. Would it you, Miss Grant?"

"Eugenie is a girl whose character is as yet unformed. She is ready to be influenced. She is-rather unfortunately-by a girl named Charlotte Mackay."

"I know her. She has been here for holidays. I also know her father."

"Charlotte is very anxious that no one should forget she is an Honourable when it would be so much more becoming if she sought to conceal the fact."

"Do you approve of concealment, Miss Grant?" "In certain circumstances."

He nodded slowly and attempted to fill my glass. I put my hand over it to prevent his doing so for I was sure he would have filled it even though I declined.

"You are very abstemious."

"Shall we say unused to drinking a great deal." "A little afraid that those excellent wits might become a little befuddled?"

"I shall make sure that they do not."

He filled his own glass.

"Tell me about your home," he said.

"Are you really interested?"

"Very."

"There is very little of interest. My parents died. They were missionaries in Africa."

"Do you share their piety?"

"I'm afraid not."

"One would have thought that parents who were missionaries would have produced offspring eager to carry on the good work."

"On the contrary. My parents believed ardently in what they did. Although I was very young when I left them, I realized that. It was goodness in a way. They suffered hardship. In fact they died for their beliefs in the end, you might say. I suppose that is the supreme sacrifice. Then I came home to a beloved aunt and I saw a different sort of goodness. If I were able to emulate the goodness of one or the other I would choose that of my aunt."

"Your voice changes when you speak of her. You are very fond of this aunt."

I nodded. There were tears in my eyes and I was ashamed of them. Disliking him as I did, he yet had the power to play on my emotions. I was not sure what it was-the words he used, the inflections of his voice, the expression in his eyes. Oddly enough I felt there was something rather sad about him, which was absurd. He was arrogant in the extreme, seeing himself more than life size, the master of many, and wanting to prove himself to be the master of all.

"I was sent to live with her," I continued, "and that was the best thing that ever happened to me ... or ever will, I imagine."

He lifted his glass and said: "I will make a prophecy. Things as good are going to happen to you. Tell me about your aunt."

"She ran a school. It didn't pay. I was going to work with her. But she had to sell up so I came here." "Where is she now?"

"In a little house in the country. She has a friend who lives with her. I shall go to her as soon as school breaks up."

He nodded. "It seems to me, Miss Grant," he said, "that you are a very fortunate young lady. You have been to that place in Switzerland when your aunt was more affluent-or did your parents leave you well provided for?"

"Everything they had went into their mission. It was my aunt who sent me to the school She could ill afford it, I am sure, but she insisted on my going and she kept me there. And that ... made it easy for me to come here."

"Miss Hetherington talks of little else but your talents and the Schaffenbruckenization of her school."

I laughed and he laughed with me.

"There is a soufflé. You must eat up every scrap, otherwise there will be rebellion in the kitchens."

"Dare anyone rebel against you?"

"No," he answered. "It would be a private rebellion. In any case they know I should never be guilty of such a heinous offence as to reject their excellent handiwork. It is you who will receive their condemnation."

"Then I will do my best to avoid it."

"I am sure you would always do your best."

The soufflé was indeed delicious and I had to admit that I had had an excellent meal-very different from the plain, though very good, fare we had at the Abbey.

He talked about the school, the history of the Abbey and how it came into his family soon after the Dissolution.

"My ancestor had performed some service to the King ... somewhere abroad I believe, and for services rendered was allowed to buy the Abbey lands-and what remained of the Abbey itself- for a pittance. I think it was two hundred pounds .. . although perhaps that was not such a pittance in those days. He built the Hall and set himself up as a nobleman. He prospered, but people in the surrounding country never took kindly to the family. They looked upon us as usurpers. The Abbey had always done so much for the poor. There was always a meal for wanderers and a place to sleep. When the abbeys went, the roads were full of beggars, and robbery increased. So you see, the Verringers were a poor exchange for the monks."

"I wonder they didn't try to surpass them."

"You mean judging from the actions of this scion of the old race. Well, they were so busy setting themselves up as lords of the neighbourhood, and that didn't necessarily involve becoming its benefactors. There are some rogues among us. I must show you the portrait galleries. Our villainies are written on our faces and I think take precedence over the virtues. But you shall see and judge for yourself."

We had finished the soufflé and I said: "I think perhaps I should make sure that Teresa is all right."

"And mortally offend Mrs. Keel! She is zealously guarding the girl. If you went up now she would suspect you didn't trust her. Come into the court-yard. It is quite pleasant out there when it gets dark and the candies are lighted. They are in niches cut into the stone. We don't get many nights when we can sit in the courtyard, so we do like to make the most of them."

I had risen and he was beside me. He took the crook of my elbow in his hand and led me through the door.

There was a white table in the courtyard and two chairs beside it on which cushions had been placed.

The air was still and silent and I felt an excitement grip me. I thought about school. Supper would be over and the girls would soon be settled for the night. I should be on my rounds if I were there and wondering whether Charlotte or Eugenie would make some difficulty.

"We will have coffee if you would like it and perhaps a Little port ..."

"Coffee please, no more wine."

"There must be something you would like. Brandy?"

"Coffee will be enough for me, thanks."

We sat down and the drinks were brought out.

"Now," he said, "we shall not be disturbed."

"I was unaware of being disturbed before."

"We live surrounded by servants," he said. "One is inclined to forget that they are a race of detectives.

One should be wary of them."

"If one has something to hide perhaps?"

"Who has not something to hide? Even excellent young ladies from Schaffenbrucken may have their secrets."

I was silent and he poured out wine for himself. "I wish you would try a little," he said. "It is ..." "Vintage port, I am sure."

"We are proud of our cellars, my butler and I." "And I am sure you have much in them of which to be proud."

"And we like others to share in our treasures. Come, just a little."

I smiled and he half filled my glass.

"Now we can both drink to each other."

"We have done that already."

"We can't have too much good fortune. To us, Miss Grant ... Cordelia. You are looking aloof. Do you not care for me to use your Christian name?"

"I think it is rather ... unnecessary."

"I think it is a most suitable name. You are Cordelia from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I could not imagine you as anything but Cordelia and even without your permission I am going to use it. Do you not find the air of Devon delightful?"

Yes."

"I am always glad that our Abbey was a Devon one. It might have been in the bleak, bleak north. They have some fine ones up there. Fountains, Rievaulx ... and others."

"I have heard of them."

"I don't think any of them surpasses ours ... or even equals it. But perhaps that is what is called pride of possession. We are a ruin, are we not ... as they are, but we are also young ladies' Academy. Who can compare with that?"

"It seems a strange place for a school."

"In the midst of all that antiquity. What better place for young people to learn about the past?"

"That is what Miss Hetherington always says."

"She is a fine woman. I admire her. I am glad she has her school here. It is so convenient for my wards, and without it I should not be sitting here enjoying one of the most delightful evenings of my life."

I laughed lightly. "You are a master of hyperbole." He leaned forward and said earnestly: "I mean it."

"Then," I retorted, "you cannot have had a very exciting life."

He paused for a while. Then he said; "The darkness is beginning to descend. We won't light the candies yet. Look. The stars are beginning to come out. Why do people say the stars are coming out, when they are there all the time?"

"Because they only accept what they see."

"Not discerning like you, Cordelia. You and I do not have to have everything made blatantly obvious, do we?"

"To what are you referring?"

"To life," he said. "You will not judge me from what you are told by others, will you?"

"It is not for me to judge."

"Perhaps I put that wrongly. You will not assess my character from the gossip you may hear." "I will repeat that it is not for me to judge."

"But you do ... without thinking you are. You hear something about a person and if it is not contradicted, you believe that against him or her." "What are you telling me?"

"That I know there is a great deal of scandal circulating about me. I don't want you to believe it all. At least I want you to understand how it came about."

"Why should it affect me?"

"Because after tonight you are going to be my friend, are you not?"

"Friendship is not put on like a hat or coat. It develops ... it grows ... It is something that has to be proved."

"It will develop," he said. "It will be proved." I was silent for a while.

"I daresay," he went on, "I have done a good many things during my life of which you would not approve. I would like you to understand a little about my family. Do you know we are said to have descended from the Devil?"

I laughed.

"Ah," he went on. "You think that is very likely, don't you?"

"On the contrary. I think it is very unlikely." "Satan takes on many forms. He doesn't have to be a spirit you know, with cloven feet."

"Tell me how the Devil became one of your ancestors."

"Very well. It was the third generation of Verringers. The old Queen had died and Scottish James was on the ,throne. Do you know it has been the curse of our family that we cannot get male heirs? I know it is a bit of an obsession with many families who can't. But it was our particular problem, and in those days when a family was new to the nobility it had to be built up on a firm foundation. You see, even now I have no son to follow me; and my brother had two daughters. They like the direct fine and the family name to be there because it belongs and not because one of the daughters has obliged her husband to take it. Well, this particular Verringer of Colby Hall could only get a daughter and she was the plainest creature ever to be seen in Devonshire ... so plain that, in spite of her fortune, no husband could be found for her. Now she must get a child, and to do that she must marry and the husband must keep the sacred name of Verringer. Time went on. She was thirty years old and did not grow any more attractive with the passing of the years. Her father was desperate, and one day he sent a band of his servants, armed, to hide in the woods and to bring home to him any traveller who was moderately handsome, in good health and looked as though he might be capable of begetting children." "You are making this up."

"I'll swear that it is one of my family's legends. Do you want to hear what happened?"

I nodded.

"Well, in time they brought back a young man. He had been riding alone through the forest. He was handsome, vigorous and most attractive in appearance. Only because there had been so many of them and he was alone had they been able to overpower him. When my ancestor saw him he was overjoyed. So was his ugly daughter. `Marry my daughter,' said the father, `and you shall have lands and possessions.' `I have lands and possessions, and no wish to marry your daughter,' said the young man. The father was very angry and ordered him to be put into one of the dungeons - yes, we have a few. They are used for cold storage now. They were to keep him there until he agreed. But. the weeks passed and the young man would not agree. No one came to rescue him. My ancestor would not allow him to be starved or tortured because he wanted to produce a perfect child, and since the young man could not be bribed with possessions it seemed as though the plan would founder. But the Verringers have always been noted for their tenacity. The prisoner was brought up from the dungeons and put into one of the best bedrooms. There were fires in the room and he was supplied with the best food and plenty of wine.

The Verringers have always kept good cellars. My ancestor realized that it had been a mistake to put the young man into the dungeon. Soft living is much more conducive to seduction. And one night, when the young man had partaken very well of the good things which the wily Verringer had had sent to his table, a potent aphrodisiac was tipped into his wine. He was very sleepy and when he had retired to his bed, the daughter was slipped beside him. During the night she conceived a child."

"Are you telling me this to show what enterprising men the Verringers are?"

"Partly, but more than that. Listen to the sequel. Strangely enough when the young man knew that the girl was pregnant through his endeavours, he agreed to marry her and there was great rejoicing throughout the Hall. In due course she produced a child-a boy, strong, healthy and as handsome as his father. Strange things began to happen then. Fire was seen over the child's cradle, but there was no fire there in truth. The child laughed as no newly born baby had ever laughed before; and he grasped everything which came within his reach. They wanted a grand christening, and the chapel was prepared for this. But on the day before this was to take place, the young man went to his father-in-law and said: `There must be no Christian ceremony. You do not know who I am. You thought you were playing with me, but in truth it was I who was playing with you. I was aware of your plans; I allowed myself to be caught and brought here so that I might give my seed to your family. Do you guess who I am?'

"The story is that my ancestor fell to his knees in terror for he was unable to look into the face of the young man, for when he did so it was as bright as the sun and nearly blinded him.

"I am Lucifer, son of the morning,' said the young man. `I have been cast out of Heaven. I am ambitious. I wanted to excel God himself. You are ambitious. You would make yourself powerful beyond all others. You tried to use me to achieve this end. So I have given you a son. Lucifer. And every man-child of your clan in the generations to come will have me in him.' And that is the way the Verringers are indeed spawn of the Devil."

"You tell the story very well indeed," I said. "I felt I was really there. I. could see that young man and the dénouement."

"Does it excuse us?"

"Certainly not."

"I thought that if we had the devil in our blood we could be allowed a little licence."

"I suppose there are legends like that attached to most families who can trace their line back so far. I believe something like it was said of the Angevin fine of the royal family from which so many of our kings came."

"The story has been passed down through the generations."

"And no doubt you all thought you had to live up to it."

"We did not have to work very hard to do so, it appears. But I wanted you to understand that when we do behave badly it is not entirely our own fault."

What was he telling me? That he was capable of a ruthless act? Murder? I could not shut out of my mind the thought of that unwanted wife lying on her pillows, the bottle containing the fatal dose of laudanum in her husband's hands. Had he administered it?

"You are pensive," he said. "You are thinking that you do not accept my excuses."

"You are right," I answered. "I do not."

He sighed. "I knew you wouldn't, but I did want to explain. What a heavenly night! There is a scent of flowers in the air and you look very beautiful sitting there, Cordelia."

"It is because it is almost dark."

"You have always looked beautiful to me in strong sunlight."

"I think it is time for me to say good night and thank you for a very good meal."

"Not yet," he said. "This is such a lovely night. How still it is! Not a breath of wind. It is rarely like this and a shame not to take advantage of it. You dismiss my fantasy. But many people have fantasies in their lives. Have you?"

I was silent. He sent my mind back again to that Suffolk churchyard, and before I could stop myself I was saying: "Something strange happened to me ... once."

"Yes?" He was leaning forward eagerly.

"I haven't talked about it much, not even to my aunt."

"Tell me."

"It seems so absurd. It happened when we were at Schaffenbrucken. There were four of us and we had heard that if we sat under a tree ... a certain tree ... in the forest at a certain time ... it had to be something to do with the full moon, and this was the time of the Hunter's Moon which was supposed to be especially good ... Well, we heard that if we sat under this oak, we might see the man we were going to marry. You know how foolish girls can be."

"I don't think it is foolish. I think it would show a very lethargic and incurious mind not to want to see one's future partner."

"Well, we went and there was a man ..."

"Tall, dark and handsome."

"Tall, fair and handsome actually. And he seemed strange, remote, perhaps that was because of the story. We talked to him for a while and then went back to school."

"Is that all?"

"No, I saw him again. It was on the train coming home to England ... just in a flash he was there and he was gone. Then he was on the boat coming to England. I was on deck, half asleep, it was night, you see, and then ... suddenly it seemed, he was there beside me. We talked, and I suppose I was rather drowsy for when I opened my eyes he was gone."

"Went up in a puff of smoke?"

"No ... just gone ... in a natural sort of way. I saw him again near Grantley Manor where we used to live. He talked to me and I discovered his name. He said he would visit us but he did not come. Then ... and this is what is really odd; I went to the place where he said he lived and I discovered the house. It had been burned down more than twenty years before. I saw his name on a tombstone. He had been dead for more than twenty years. Don't you think that is as strange as your family's trafficking with the Devil?"

"I didn't ..., until you got to the visit to the place where he was supposed to live. That is very strange, I grant you. The rest is easy. He came to the forest by chance. You endowed him with all the noble and somewhat supernatural qualities because you were young and impressionable and believed in the legend. He was impressed by you, which does not surprise me in the least. He saw you on the journey. He sat beside you and talked and then his conscience smote him. He had a wife and six children waiting for him at home. So he slipped away unobtrusively. Then he couldn't resist the temptation to see you again, so he waylaid you. He was to visit you and your aunt, and then his better feelings triumphed once more and he went home to his family."

I laughed. "It sounds plausible in a way, but it doesn't explain the name on the tombstone."

"He chose a name at random, not wanting to give you his own for fear some whisper of his adventures reached the ears of his beloved and faithful wife who was waiting for him. Now if I accept your encounter with the mystic stranger, you must accept my Satanic ancestor."

"I don't know why I am telling you this. I have never told anyone before."

"It's the night ... a night for confidences. Do you feel that? The darker it gets, the more clearly I can see into your mind ... and you into mine."

"But what explanation could there be?"

"You talked to a ghost ... or a man who was acting as one. People do strange things, you know."

"I am sure there is a logical explanation to your story ... and to mine."

"Perhaps we shall find the answer to yours. Mine is a little too far back to prove except that our deeds are living evidence of our progenitor's existence."

I found myself laughing. The port is very heavy, I thought, and I was aware of a pleasant lassitude and the certain knowledge that I did not want the night to end just yet.

He said, as though he read my thoughts: "I am very happy tonight. I want this to go on and on. I am not often happy like this, you know, Cordelia."

"I have always thought that true happiness came through service to others."

"I see the missionary forebears peeping out."

"I know it sounds sententious, but I am certain it is true. The happiest person I have ever known is my aunt, and when I come to think of it she is always unconsciously doing something for someone else's benefit."

"I want to meet her."

"I doubt you ever will."

"I shall, of course," he said, "for you and I are going to be ... friends."

"Do you think so? I have a feeling that this is an isolated occasion. We are sitting here in the darkness with the stars above and the smell of flowers in the air and it is having an effect on us. We are talking too much ... too freely ... Perhaps tomorrow we shall regret what we have said tonight."

"I shall regret nothing. Life has been smooth for you, Cordelia, once you were rid of your missionaries. The fairy godmother aunt provided you with your dress so that you could go to the bail; she turned the pumpkin into the coach and the rats into horses. Cinderella Cordelia is going to the bail. She is just meeting the Prince and he is not an elusive spirit who is nothing but a name on a tombstone. You know that, don't you, Cordelia?"

"Your metaphors are taking such a wild turn that they are waking me up and reminding me that it is time I said good night."

"You see," he persisted, "there was no fairy godmother for me. Mine was a harsh childhood. All the time one had to excel. There was no tenderness ... ever. It was tutors who had to get results. There was always correction ... physical mostly. I was in a prison ... like the handsome young man who turned out to be the Devil. I was wild, adventurous, wicked often, always seeking for something. I don't know what. But I think I am beginning to. Then I went to Oxford and lived riotously because I thought that was the answer. I was married ... very young ... to the suitable young girl who was as ignorant of life as I was. I had my duty to perform, which was the same as that of my ugly ancestress. I had to produce the boy. My brother had married young. He had the two girls, as you know. For myself there was nothing, and my wife had a riding accident three months after our marriage and was incapable of bearing children after that. I am not going to say that I was miserable, but frustrated, always ... dissatisfied. She died. We buried her the day you came here."

"I know," I said gently. "You were coming from the funeral."

"I had to get away. I couldn't stand any more of it. Then I saw you in the lane."

"And forced me to retreat," I said lightly.

"I caught a glimpse of you as we went past. You looked wonderful, different from anyone I had ever known, like some heroine from the past riding in that carriage."

"Boadicea?" I suggested lightly.

"I wanted to know you from that moment. And then when I found you lost ..."

"You took me for a long ride round the town."

"I had to talk to you for as long as possible. And now ... this ..."

I thought then of the handsome woman and the child I had seen in the garden of Rooks' Rest, and I said: "I believe I have met a friend of yours."

"Oh?"

"Mrs. Marcia Martindale. She has a beautiful little girl."

He was silent and I thought: I should not have said that. I am getting careless, not thinking before I speak. How could I have ever told him about the stranger in the forest? What is happening to me?

I was startled suddenly as a black shape flashed caver my head. It was eerie and I had the sudden feeling that in this ancient home there must be ghosts who could not rest, spirits of those who had met violent ends. Perhaps his wife .. .

"What was that?" I cried out.

"It was only a bat. They are flying low tonight."

I shivered.

"Innocent little creatures," he went on. "Why do they inspire people with fear?"

It is because they get into one's hair and are said to be verminous."

"They wouldn't hurt you if you didn't hurt them. Oh.... here he is again. It must be the same one. You're looking really alarmed. I think you believe they are messengers from the Devil. You do, don't you? You think I have summoned them up to do my bidding."

"I know them for bats," I said. "But that doesn't mean I like them."

I was saying to myself: I must go in, but there was something in me pleading for a little longer. I wanted to stay out in this magic night and learn more about this man, for he was revealing a great dea1 about himself. I had thought of him as brash and arrogant. He was; but there was something else about him-a sadness, even a vulnerability, something which touched me in a way.

And then ... suddenly we were no longer alone. She came into the courtyard. She was dressed in a riding habit and was bareheaded; her beautiful reddish hair was caught up in a kind of snood.

I recognized her at once.

"Jason!" she cried in a strangled voice which conveyed sadness, despair and acute melancholy.

He rose to his feet. I could see that he was very angry.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She flinched and stood back a Little, her very white hands on which she wore several rings were crossed over her breast, which heaved with emotion.

She said: "I heard there was an accident. I thought it might be you, Jason. I have been frantic with anxiety."

She looked magnificent and yet she managed to be pathetic at the same time. I believed I was looking at the one-time cherished mistress who could no longer please as she once had, was aware of it, and heart-broken because of it.

He said in a low voice: "I must introduce you to Miss Grant who is from the girls' academy."

"We have already met," I said. "And you must excuse me. I must go to see Teresa." I looked straight at Marcia Martindale who seemed to express anguish, sorrow and despair all at the same time. "One of our girls had a fall from her horse. That is why I am here. She is asleep in this house and I am here to look after her."

I saw the look of relief on the woman's face. It was certainly the most expressive face I had ever seen. Her feelings were there for everyone to see.

"I trust ..." she began.

"Oh, it is nothing much," I said quickly. "The doctor was afraid of concussion and it was thought better to keep her here overnight. Mrs. Keel is watching over her until I go up. Well, good night and thank you, Sir Jason, for your hospitality."

I hurried out of the courtyard and went into the house, trying to find my way to the blue room. My exhilaration of a short time ago had sunk to depression.

What had happened to me in the courtyard? There had been some enchantment about the night. It was the darkness, the food, the wine ... his personality, my inexperience perhaps ... his conversation which I found stimulating. I must have been completely bemused to imagine for a moment that he was not the man I knew him to be from all that I had heard about him.

He now had to face the mistress whom he had deserted for an evening's adventure with someone who was new to him.

It was just what I would expect of him!

She had shattered something, that woman. It was just as well, for she had brought me back to reality. I hoped I had not been too indiscreet and tried to remember what I had said. How had he managed to carry me along with him? I had almost begun to like him.

I saw a maid on the stairs and asked her to show me the blue room, which she did.

Mrs. Keel rose from her chair as I entered.

"She's fast asleep. Hasn't stirred the whole time," she said. "Are you staying here now?" "Yes," I said. "I shall sleep on one side of the bed. It's big enough. I shan't disturb her and if she wakes I shall be there."

"That's right," said Mrs. Keel. "Well, I'll say good night."

She shut the door quietly. I still felt bemused. It was the food and wine, I told myself. It had nothing to do with him.

There was a key in the door.

I turned it, locking myself in with Teresa.

I felt secure then. Tomorrow if Teresa was well enough-and I knew she would be-we would go back to the school and I, no less than Teresa, would have to forget about our little adventure.

I lay beside Teresa, but sleep was elusive. I felt stimulated and excited and was wondering what Sir Jason and Marcia Martindale were saying to each other down there. I could imagine the recriminations. I should like her to know that there was no need for her to lose any sleep on my account. I was not the sort to be taken in by a plausible philanderer. Yet while I was talking to him-although I had been wary and believed that I could see through him with the utmost ease-I had to admit that I had been a trifle fascinated. He was blasé, ruthless, what would be called "a man of the would", and I realized-and so did he-that I had had little experience of such people. There had been no doubt that he was stressing his interest in me. But innocent as I might be, I was fully aware that a man like Jason Verringer would be interested in that certain way in many women at the same time.

How foolish I had been to think- just for a short while-that he had a special feeling for me. What struck me as so very strange was that I should have told him about my adventure with the man in the forest when I had not even talked to Aunt Patty about that. It had been because we had been sitting there while it grew darker and darker and the bats flew overhead. If it had been broad daylight, I should never have talked as I did.

Well, it was over. It had come to an abrupt ending with the dramatic appearance of his mistress.

Forget the man, said my common sense. Go to sleep.

I closed my eyes and tried. I had locked the door because I had a suspicion that he might come into the bedroom perhaps on a pretext of explaining Marcia Martindale's sudden appearance. But Teresa was here ... a sleeping chaperone. The door was locked and she lay beside me in her sedated sleep.

At last I dozed.

When I awoke it was dark. I could not remember where I was for some moments, then memory came flooding back.

"Teresa!" I said softly.

"Yes, Miss Grant."

"So you're awake." I sensed her anxiety and I went on: "You're not badly hurt, Teresa. You're going to be walking round normally in a day or two."

"I know."

"Well then, just try to go to sleep. It's the middle of the night. There's nothing to worry about. We shall stay here until the morning and then Emmet will come to collect us."

She said: "I wish it wasn't summer."

"Why ever not! Why, it's the best time of the year. Think of the lovely sunshine, the walks, the picnics, the holidays ..."

I stopped. How foolish of me, how tactless.

There was a brief silence and I went on: "Teresa, what shall you do during the summer holidays?"

"I shall stay at school." Her voice sounded utterly dreary. "I suppose Miss Hetherington will have to let me, but it is a nuisance for her. I'm the only one."

A sudden impulse came to me and I said: "Teresa, suppose ... just suppose ... it were possible for me to take you home with me for the holidays."

"Miss Grant!"

"Well, I suppose I could. Aunt Patty would be all right ... and Violet. I'd have to get Miss Hetherington's permission."

"Oh, Miss Grant ... I'd see Aunt Patty and Violet's bees. Oh, Miss Grant. I want to come... so much."

I stared into the darkness. Perhaps I should have thought about it more carefully before mentioning it. But, poor Teresa. She was so miserable and in such a low state after the accident. I had to make the suggestion, and the more I thought of it the better it seemed. Teresa would not go to sleep now. She wanted to talk about Aunt Patty and her home in the country.

"I don't know much about it myself yet. I haven't been there when it was a home. It has always been an empty house to me. They only moved in when I came to Colby, so I only know about it from Aunt Patty's letters."

"Tell me about Aunt Patty. Tell me about how she came to meet you from Africa in that hat with the feather."

So I told her, as I had told her before, and I heard her laugh contentedly beside me, and I knew that the prospect of the summer holiday was doing more to restore her than anything else could have done.

The next day Emmet arrived to take us back to the school. Mrs. Keel saw us off with two of the servants and as we were about to get into the carriage Sir Jason appeared.

I said: "Thank you for your hospitality. Teresa, please thank Sir Jason."

"Thank you," said Teresa obediently, her eyes still shining with anticipation of the summer holidays.

"It was a great pleasure," he said. "I so much enjoyed our dinner."

"A culinary masterpiece," I replied. "Again thank you and everyone concerned. Come along, Teresa."

"I trust we shall meet again soon," he said looking at me.

I smiled vaguely and settled Teresa, taking my seat beside her. Emmet whipped up the horse and we moved away. Sir Jason was looking straight at me rather pleadingly, I thought, and again I felt a twinge of that pity for him which would, I am sure, have amused him, had he known of it.

Daisy Hetherington was waiting to receive us.

She greeted me and her eyes went immediately to Teresa.

"You look none the worse for your adventure," she said. "Come along in. What does the doctor say, Miss Grant? Is Teresa to rest for a while?"

"Yes, for today. I will take her to her room. She should rest in bed for today, and tomorrow we will see."

"When you have dealt with her, come to my sitting room, Miss Grant. I want to talk to you."

"Certainly," I replied.

I took Teresa to her room and helped her to bed.

"Will you ask Miss Hetherington now?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"Yes," I said. "At the first opportunity."

"And will you let me know ... at once?"

"I promise."

I saw Charlotte and the Verringer girls on my way to Miss Hetherington.

I said to them: "Teresa is back. She may be a Little shocked. I want you all to be very careful. Don't refer to the mishap unless she does. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Miss Grant. Yes, Miss Grant. Yes, Miss Grant."

There was even an understanding affirmative from Charlotte. That little bit of authority had worked wonders.

"You three ride very well," I went on. "You happen to be especially good horse-women." I was looking at Charlotte, who turned pink with pleasure. "You must understand that everyone cannot be as good. Their talents might lie in other directions."

I passed on. I did not think Charlotte would taunt Teresa with cowardice if she refused to ride for a while. I really did believe that I had got through to her because of her love of horses-in a small way perhaps but it was a beginning. I fell to thinking then that many people behaved badly through a desire to assert themselves, and when their success was acknowledged there ceased to be that necessity. It was a point I should like to discuss. Certainly not with Daisy Hetherington but with Eileen Eccles, Aunt Patty ... and it might be interesting to hear Sir Jason's views.

Daisy was waiting for me.

"Oh, Miss Grant, do sit down. What an unfortunate thing to happen! And there of all places ..."

"It was better than happening in the isolated country," I reminded her. "At least we got Teresa attended to very quickly."

"I gather it is only bruises."

"No bones were broken. She was lucky. Of course she is shocked."

"Sometimes I wish I had never taken Teresa Hurst."

"She is a very pleasant girl."

"She seems to have some fixation for you, Cordelia. Be careful. These obsessions can become tiresome."

"The fact with Teresa is that she is lonely. She feels unwanted because of her home situation. By the way she is very depressed about the summer holidays and I, rather rashly I'm afraid, promised to take her home with me if all were agreeable."

"Take her home!" cried Daisy. "My dear Cordelia!"

"It seemed a good idea in the middle of the night when the poor child was so depressed, and after what had happened I promised ..."

Daisy smiled slowly. "It was extremely good of you and I am sure Patience would raise no objections."

"Then I have your permission?"

"My dear Cordelia, nothing would please me better than to have the child somewhere else for the summer holidays. It is an added burden when they stay at school ... and not worth the price they pay for it. Imagine ... the child here all that time and no others of her age. And a responsibility. As far as I am concerned I would give a whole-hearted Yes. There are the parents."

"They are in Rhodesia."

"I am thinking of the guardians here. The cousins ... I will write to them and ask for their permission for Teresa to stay with you. I will tell them that your aunt with whom you will be staying is an old friend of mine and I can vouch for Teresa's being in the best possible place, since she cannot be with her own parents."

"Oh thank you, Miss Hetherington. Would you mind if I went to tell Teresa right away. She is so anxious."

"Yes. And there is one other thing, Cordelia. I was uneasy about your spending a night at the Hall."

"I know you were and it was good of you to be concerned."

"I feel as responsible for my staff as I do for my girls ... Did you dine with Sir Jason?"

"Yes."

"He has a reputation for being rather ... free with women."

"I can well imagine that."

"I hope he was in no way offensive."

"No. As a matter of fact after dinner Mrs. Martindale called. I left them and went to Teresa to relieve Mrs. Keel who had kindly offered to keep vigil while I ate."

Daisy was obviously relieved.

I went straight to Teresa.

"The first hurdle is over," I said. "Miss Hetherington gives her whole-hearted consent. There now remain the cousins. She will write to them today."

"They will say "Yes please." We have nothing to fear from them. Oh, Miss Grant, I am going to spend my summer holidays with you and Aunt Patty!"