The Menfreys would move among the crowd so that none would know that we were not guests ourselves until the unmasking when we should receive their thanks and congratulations.

I should be watchful of a man in a Roman toga. But then I should know Bevil anywhere. Two Roman togas had been delivered, William had told me in dismay and wondered whether to send one of them back. He had ordered a Persian costume for himself, a Roman one for Bevil.

“There simply isn’t time to do anything about it,” I told him. “There will just have to be two Romans from Menfreya. You can be sure there’ll be others.”

He agreed.

Sir Endelion was a cardinal—Wolsey, Mazarin or Richelieu, I was not sure, but he could have passed as any one of them. Lady Menfrey was, ironically, Catherine of Aragon.

I thought of the change in Sir Endelion. But was it change? Hadn’t the mischief always been there, waiting to be brought out? Perhaps I had much to learn of those about me.

I shivered.

“Someone’s walking over your grave?”

“It’s more likely to be a draught from that window.”

Fanny went over and shut it. “Your hair’s shining. I used to like to see it look like that. Now where’s that thing?”

“ ‘Thing’ seems disrespectful, Fanny. It’s a ‘snood’ or a 'filet.’”

“Well, bless me, it’s a pretty thing, anyway. I don’t know. It does suit you. You seem different somehow … when I put it on.”

“How … different, Fanny?”

“I don’t know … as though you don’t belong here … but somewhere else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t ask me. It just came into my head.” Her face puckered suddenly, and I thought she was going to cry.

“Fanny,” I cried. “What’s wrong?”

She threw her apron over her head suddenly and sat down. I went to her and put my arm about her shoulders.

“I’m a silly thing, I am. It’s just that I wanted to see you happy…”

“I am Fanny. I am, I tell you.”

She looked at me sadly, and I remembered how she used to look at me hi the past and mutter: “You can’t fool Fanny.”

I recognized Jessica at once. She was the only one in that assembly who was simply dressed; and how clever of her, for she was the one who consequently attracted all the attention. She had made the dress herself. Almost puritan in its simplicity, it was made of lavender-colored silk; the skirt cascaded to her feet; the bodice was meant to convey primness, but on her it had the opposite effect, by accentuating her perfect figure. Her dark hair was smoothed down on either side of her face to a simple knot hi the nape of her neck. She had come as a governess of another age. I caught my breath when I saw her.

“I see you recognized me in spite of my mask,” she said. “What do you think of my costume?”

“It’s so …”

“Plain? It’s supposed to be a governess, you know.”

“It’s charming. What made you decide on that?”

“Your going as a long-ago lady of the house, which is what you are. Why shouldn’t I come as what I am? It was easy to make, and I thought no one else would come like this.

The idea came to me when we were talking in that eerie part of the house the other day.”

“I see.”

“Do you think that governess looked like this?” she asked. “I think she might have. I looked up the costumes. And this is about the same period as yours. I wonder if anyone will notice it.”

“I should hardly think so.”

“Rather amusing, if they do.”

I turned away from her, and as I made my way across the hall I was joined by a Roman toga, and for a moment I thought it was Bevil. “You are looking striking in your costume.” The voice was William Lister’s.”

“Thank you. I’ve already seen two other togas. I told you there would be plenty. We might have strayed into the Appian Way.”

“Practically every country and period is represented.”

“I’m going to the supper rooms to make sure everything is in order there.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, do please go and look after Mary, Queen of Scots. She looks as it she’s in Fotheringay rather than Menfreya.”

I saw a cardinal’s costume pass by with Marie Antoinette. My gallant father-in-law was regaining his youth.

We had decided on music from all countries, and “The Blue Danube” waltz was being played as I made my way to the supper rooms. There were three of them, all beautifully decorated with flowers and leaves, and small tables with dazzling napery had been set up in each. I spoke to Pengelly, who assured me that everything was in order, so I returned to the ballroom.

“Will you join me in the dance?”

Another Roman. For a moment my heart leaped. I thought it was Bevil putting on a disguised voice to amuse me; but that illusion quickly passed.

The floor was too crowded to dance very successfully, but that did not worry my partner, who was obviously not a good dancer and wanted to talk.

“I must confess I know who you are,” he told me.

“Is it so obvious?”

“Not at all. But I’ve seen you in that dress before.”

I had caught the voice now. I knew that mouth. It had grown tight-lipped when Gwennan had gone away.

“So it’s you, Harry.”

“I'm betrayed.”

“You gave it away by mentioning the dress.”

“That seems years ago.”

“Harry…”

“Yes, go on. You’re wondering whether I mind talking about it Well, it’s in the past, and she’s dead now.”

“Oh, Harry,” I said, “it was so silly of her. It wasn’t as though ...”

“As though she really cared for him? No, perhaps not. But she didn’t care for me, either. I don’t think she cared for anyone but herself. She was a Menfrey.”

I heard the bitter note in his voice, and I felt a great pity for him. He hadn’t forgotten; perhaps he hadn’t forgiven.

“She suffered terribly, Harry.”

He was silent and I saw his lips harden, almost as though he were glad that she had. Poor Harry, he had loved her; there seemed to be some power the Menfreys had of binding people to them. I thought of my own feelings for Bevil; nothing he did to me could alter it And so it might be with Harry, who continued to brood over Gwennan.

I wondered then whether he had decided to go into politics to turn his thoughts from that tragedy, and whether he wanted to stand against Bevil as a sort of revenge.

“You’re sorry for me, Harriet,” he said suddenly, reading my thoughts. “You’re thinking that Gwennan jilted me and now I’m going to be humiliated once more when the people here show me they don’t want me to represent them in Parliament.”

“Why here, Harry?” I asked. “Why not somewhere else?”

“You don’t like the idea of my standing against your husband?”

“No. After all, you're an old friend of the family. I know we pretend that isn’t important but it is … in a way. I’d like to see you putting up somewhere else.”

“You don’t think I have a chance here?”

“The Menfreys have held the seat for a long time.”

“There was a period when your father represented Lansella. That could happen again.”

“But… he was of the same party.”

“The allegiance to a certain party doesn’t have to go on forever.”

I could see the grim set of his lips, and I believed that he had an idea that if he won the seat from a Menfrey, life would have, in a measure, made up for the humiliation he had suffered through Gwennan.

It seemed a crazy notion and I didn’t like it.

“You’re going to be disappointed, Harry,” I said.

“Spoken like the wife of the reigning M.P. I wouldn’t expect anything but that from you, Harriet.”

“Why don’t you think about trying to get a chance somewhere else?”

“This is my place,” he said, “as much as the Menfreys. Should I be driven out by them? It’s going to be a fight.”

We sat down for a while and he brought the conversation back to Gwennan. I could see that he was dwelling on the past, that he couldn’t get her out of his mind. It was natural, I thought, for this ball must have recalled that other when they had been together, she so gay hi her homemade blue velvet, enjoying the adventure of the ball she was not supposed to attend. Harry would be carried away by all that charm, exhilarated as never before. No wonder he was full of regrets.

I excused myself to make sure all was well, for after all I was hostess, even though disguised.

I was relieved to get away from him, for he depressed me. I danced now and then; I sat out and talked; it was dear that several people knew who I was. Perhaps my slight limp betrayed me. I talked a good deal of politics; I mingled with the guests; I danced with my father-in-law and with Bevil, who was gay and very affectionate.

“You’re an asset to the party, Harriet Menfrey,” he told me with a laugh. “How Harry Leveret thinks he’s going to beat us when you’re around, I can’t imagine.”

I told him that I had danced with Harry, who seemed to be brooding about Gwennan. Bevil wasn’t very interested hi Harry; he told me I looked wonderful, a most exciting ghost from the past. “We ought to bring that picture out and have it cleaned. It should hang in the gallery. Perhaps well have you painted hi that dress to hang beside it That would be amusing.”

It was wonderful to be with Bevil; I could understand Harry’s bitterness.

But of course Bevil and I could not be together all the evening. It was our duty, he said, to attend to the wilting wallflowers. He went off to talk to a plump Helen of Troy, and I to an aging Sir Galahad.

Now and then I caught sight of the eighteenth-century governess. I knew that she was never without partners; her beauty shone through any disguise, and how clever she had been to come so simply clad! It struck me that she would always be clever.

It was after I had left the supper rooms that I caught sight of her dancing with Bevil. I turned away. I did not want to see them.

All the time I was dancing I was wondering what they were saying to each other. How were they together? The ball had turned sour for me, and I wished it was over. Harry Leveret had disturbed me, and I felt then that once having loved a Menfrey, there was no escape. That was how it would be with me. I was afraid of Jessica Trelarken, and I was afraid of Bevil. I did not understand her, and I understood him too well. Why had she come here as a governess? Was she trying to draw some parallel? Was she saying: It is happening now as it happened then?

I suddenly saw it with clarity, how it must have been all those years ago. The governess who lived in those rooms, had she some irresistible attraction like Jessica’s? I could imagine the husband who could not let her go, who kept her there, close to him …

It was silly. I was not being reasonable. The past could not intrude like that on the present. I had a husband who was fond of female company; there were men who could not be content with one woman, and by a fortuitous chain of events we had a governess who happened to be possessed of rare beauty.

I imagined the rest.

I felt a desire to get out of the ballroom, and slipped into the grounds. The wind caught playfully at my hair, but it was safely held in the filet. A strange urge came to me, and I took the path which led to the cliffside garden and then went into the garden itself. I paused to glance back at the house. It was beautiful in moonlight; the lighted windows, the sound of music before me, and behind me the sound of the waves on the sand and rock.

It was high tide, and the island seemed farther away than a usual; the tips of my slippers were wet, as a wave, wilder than the rest, splashed me with its spray. I looked across at the island and saw the light in the window. I caught my breath and stood still, watching.

I do not know how long I stood there, for as I did so I was back in the past, when I had lain beneath a dust sheet and Bevil had towered over me, the girl from the village standing by.

Who was there now? “Bevil always uses the house for his seductions,” I could hear Gwennan’s voice laughing in my ears; and it seemed that the night was full of ghosts—not of a governess who might have died in childbirth, not of a woman who might have murdered her, not so far back as that … Gwennan … mocking me, yet my friend. I felt Gwennan was warning me on that night.

And as I stood there I saw a figure emerge from the house. It was not easy to see who, from this distance, but a white toga is easily distinguishable. He was joined by a woman, and because she was in a simpler fancy dress than those of everyone else it was easy to recognize her.