Voices in a Haunted Room (38 page)

“Well, he has now, Mary.”

“Madam, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Well, it’s about Miss Mather at Grasslands. At one time we thought… well, we all thought something was coming of that.”

“Well, we were wrong, Mary.”

“I wonder… what Miss Mather will think…”

It was what I had been wondering about. However, I changed the subject and said that I could well manage the rest, which was dismissal, and Mary was too well trained a maid not to realize that.

We returned to Eversleigh the day after the wedding.

My mother and I went straight to the nursery, where we were delighted to find that all was well in the good hands of Grace Soper.

We played with the babies and marvelled at the manner in which they had grown, and delighted in their intelligence, which we were sure was more than that of normal children.

Yes, it was good to be home, and I wished, as I had so many times, that my life was less complicated—as it would have been if Jonathan had never intruded into it.

Try as I might I could not forget him and he was often in my thoughts. I wondered about Millicent and wondered whether she was going to be bitterly hurt. I had always felt that she was a young woman who could take good care of herself; but when I thought of that potent charm of Jonathan’s—so like that which had brought his father so many conquests and what he wanted in life—I did wonder.

I tried to interest myself more in David’s ways. We read together and talked for hours on our favourite subjects; he taught me a little archaeology and again we still discussed the possibility of going to Italy when the war was over.

I made a habit of riding round the estate with him. I wanted to know all that was happening; I wanted to share his life and atone for my infidelity. That was not possible, but I could try.

I went to see Aunt Sophie to tell her about Jonathan’s wedding. She scarcely ever left her room, Jeanne told me. “Alberic’s death is a terrible setback for her.”

“Is she still brooding on it?”

“She mentions it every day. She gets quite angry about wanton murderers being allowed to escape justice.”

“Shall I go and see her?”

“Yes, do go up. She likes to see you—although she doesn’t always seem welcoming. Dolly Mather is with her now.”

“Is she here often?”

“Oh yes. She’s always been about. You know Mademoiselle d’Aubigné has taken a great liking to her. She is so sorry for her.”

“I understand that.”

“And I’m glad. The girl cheers her a good deal.”

“Jeanne,” I asked, “have you seen anything of her sister, Evie?”

“No, I have not. She used to come here sometimes with Dolly, but Mademoiselle never cared for her in the same way. No, I can’t say I have seen Evie lately.”

“I’ll go up.

Aunt Sophie was seated in a chair which had been placed by the bed; she wore a long mauve dressing gown with a hood of the same colour to hide the damaged side of her face.

I went to her and kissed her. I smiled at Dolly. “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you,” said Dolly quietly.

“That’s good. I’ve come to tell you about the wedding, Aunt Sophie.”

“Get a chair for Mrs. Frenshaw, Dolly,” said Aunt Sophie, and Dolly immediately obeyed.

I described the rehearsal and the wedding reception. Dolly listened intently, her eyes never leaving my face. I always felt a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and I often avoided looking at her, for I found my eyes unconsciously resting on that strangely drawn-down eye.

“A great deal of excitement, I am sure,” said Aunt Sophie. “You didn’t hear anything while you were away, I suppose?”

“Hear anything? You mean about the war? They talk about little else.”

“I meant about Alberic.”

“Why, Aunt Sophie…”

“I mean about finding his murderer. It is a sorry state of affairs when innocent people are shot at and drowned and nothing is done about it.”

“I think they tried…”

“Tried! They don’t care. They thought he was just a poor émigré. But one day I am going to find out who murdered him… and when I do…”

She paused and I wanted to say: Yes, Aunt Sophie, what will you do? What would you do if you knew the truth?

She said: “I would kill the one who murdered that poor innocent boy. Yes, I would… with my own hands.”

She looked down at her hands as she spoke, long, tapering fingers, very pale, the hands of one who has never in the slightest way laboured physically.

Poor Aunt Sophie, she looked so defenceless… tired and old, except for the shine in her eyes and the determination in her voice.

“Oh yes,” she went on, “nothing would deter me. And I shan’t rest until those who did this wicked thing are brought to justice.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “It is someone here… someone close to us… Think of it! We have a murderer in our midst… and I shall not rest until I have found that murderer.”

“Aunt Sophie, you must not upset yourself. It is bad for you.”

“Bad for me! What is good for me? To lose the people I am fond of? To have them taken from me… wickedly done to death?”

“There is much that we do not know,” I said.

“This I know,” she said: “Wicked murder has been done… and if no one else will bring that murderer to justice, I will.”

“But Aunt Sophie…”

“You think I’m talking nonsense, don’t you? But I know something of what goes on here. I have my friends.”

Jeanne had come into the room.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” she said, “you must not excite yourself.”

“Oh Jeanne…” For a moment Sophie leaned against Jeanne. “It is such a wicked world, and I have only to love someone and that is disaster for me… for them.”

“No, no,” said Jeanne. “That is not so. There is much that is good.”

Jeanne nodded to me over Sophie’s head, indicating that I should leave.

I rose and said: “Well, Aunt Sophie, I must go. I’ll come in again and see you later.”

Jeanne came after me.

She said: “It’s this obsession. She was like that when… You remember that tutor, when he went away: She thought fate was against her then and she never believed the things they said about him. She thought it was a conspiracy to take him from her. She was so much better—and then this has to happen with Alberic. She works herself into it. I don’t like it. It’s going right back and I thought she was much better when we came to Enderby.”

“We are so thankful that you are here to look after her.”

“I always shall be until God takes one of us away to another world. I wish they could solve that mystery. I think that would help a lot. If they could find the man who shot him… and if he were brought to justice, I really feel she would begin to grow away from it.”

I rode sadly back to Eversleigh.

July had come in rather sultry. I had not seen Jonathan since his wedding. He had remained in London and he and Millicent might have spent a week or so at the Grenfells’ house in Maidenhead.

One morning I decided to go with David, who was proposing to look at some cottages which were in need of repair.

It was a dull morning—a trifle misty but it would be hot when the mist cleared. The woods were looking beautiful now. I glimpsed foxgloves in the glades between the trees and the poppies made a dash of scarlet against the gold of the corn.

When Jonathan was away I could forget the past for hours at a time—and then I think I was really happy.

David was talking now about the possibility of several of the cottages needing repairs to the roofs.

“It was the same at Clavering,” he was saying. “I set all that in motion there. It looks as though there’ll be a similar problem at Eversleigh. You ought to have come to Clavering with me. When Amaryllis gets a little older we’ll all go. Gerrand’s an excellent manager, but I do think we should put in an appearance more often.”

“Dickon never goes now,” I said.

“Well, no, but he keeps an eye on things though. He always goes through accounts and that sort of thing himself… as he does here. But I have always felt his main interest was in London.”

“Secret matters?”

“I’m glad not to be involved in that.”

“I am glad too. It is better so…”

“Much more suited to Jonathan. In fact we both fitted into our different niches very satisfactorily… don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do, and I’m glad you got this particular niche.”

“The best thing I ever got was you, Claudine.”

Was it? I wondered. If you knew everything, would you really think that? And the weight of my sin enveloped me and spoilt the beauty of the morning.

“I want to go and have a look at Lammings Bridge,” said David. “I thought it was a little shaky yesterday. It may need propping up a little.”

“It would be disastrous if it collapsed while someone was riding over it.”

“Yes, the river is fairly deep at that point. It could be dangerous. We’ll just call at the cottage first and tell them I’m sending a thatcher along to look at the roofs. There might be other things that need attention.”

I knew it was David’s policy to talk to tenants and explain what was going on, and that made it easy for them to bring their troubles to him. I realized afresh that morning what an ideal relationship he had established with the tenants. It could never have been the same when Eversleigh was Dickon’s main concern. I think they must all have been afraid of him.

I was proud of David and my spirits rose again.

Yes, I was happy. I thought, as I had a thousand times before: I must never make him unhappy. I owe that to him, and the only way I can make sure of that is by keeping my secret.

“We mustn’t forget the bridge,” said David.

“Come on then.”

There it was—Lammings Bridge, named, so I believed, after the man who had built it more than a hundred years ago. It was small wonder that it was in need of repair since it had stood the stress of weather and traffic all that time.

We dismounted and tethered our horses to some bushes on the bank. David prodded the wood.

“Yes,” he said, “it’s a little broken here. Can easily be patched up though, I think. Oh, not a great deal to be done… if taken in hand quickly.”

I leaned on the parapet and surveyed the scene. It was very peaceful with weeping willows trailing into the water and loosestrife giving a touch of purple to the banks. Then I saw something in the water. I stared. It looked like a woman.

“David,” I called shrilly.

He was at my side immediately.

“Look!” I cried. “What’s that? Over there?”

“Oh God…” he murmured under his breath. Then we ran across the bridge and down to the riverbank.

I shall never forget that moment. She lay there, white and still; she appeared to be smiling… peacefully. She was beautiful. Oh poor, unhappy Evie!

David brought her out of the water and laid her on the bank.

He said: “She’s been dead for hours. Poor… poor child. What could have made her?”

We looked at each other in horror, and though we did not speak, we were thinking of Harry Farringdon.

“There’s nothing we can do for her,” said David. “We’ll have to get the doctor and some conveyance.”

“Oh what a terrible tragedy,” I said. “Poor Evie… and poor Mrs. Trent… and Dolly.”

Soberly we rode back.

What followed was terrible. We were all shattered. She had been such a gentle, pleasant girl, so pretty too. It was tragic to realize that she was dead. I kept thinking of her smiling in her quiet way with Harry Farringdon.

She must really have cared for him. The news of his engagement would have been brought to her. Mary Lee would have talked to the servants of Eversleigh and they would have carried the news to those of Grasslands.

What a cruel fate! She must have thought he was serious in his affections for her; she had clearly loved him, and when he became engaged to someone else, found life unbearable.

I wondered what was happening at Grasslands. I wondered whether to go over and see, but was unsure. Evie had met Harry Farringdon under our roof. It was no fault of ours, but Mrs. Trent would be distracted. She would blame us perhaps.

There were startling revelations to come.

Evie Mather was pregnant and had been so for the last three months.

This was worse than ever. Poor girl! Why had she not talked to someone? My mother would have done anything to help her and so would I. David certainly would… even Dickon. He was always lenient with that sort of predicament.

But she had kept it to herself. I could imagine the devastating effect this was going to have on that household.

People spoke of it in hushed whispers. In the servants’ hall I was sure they spoke of nothing else.

I felt I must go and see Mrs. Trent because there was a special sort of relationship between us since she had told me that Evie was connected with our family, as Richard Mather had been truly Dickon’s son.

It was with great trepidation that I called.

I had not told David or my mother that I was going, for I felt sure they would try to dissuade me. Indeed I should have needed little dissuasion, for I was very unsure whether I should be welcome.

The curtains were all drawn across the windows. The door was opened by a servant who took me into a little room which led from the hall. She said she would tell Mrs. Trent that I had come.

After a while Dolly came in. Her face was distorted by grief and her eyes seemed more awry than ever.

“Oh, Dolly,” I said, “I’m so terribly sorry. This is heartbreaking.”

Her lips quivered. “She’s gone. Our Evie… gone forever. I shall never see her again.”

“Oh Dolly.” I was crying with her.

“There wasn’t any need,” said Dolly. “She would have been all right.”

“We would have taken care of her,” I said.

“
I
would have taken care of her… and the little baby as well.”

I nodded. “How is your grandmother taking it?”

“She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t sleep. She thought the world of Evie.”

“I know. I would have come. My mother would have come, but we were not sure whether she would wish to see us… just yet.”

“Yes, she wants to see you.”

“I would like to comfort her. I wish I knew how.”