Their voices were lost to me.

I sat very still. They were right. He had always cared deeply about Cador. He had been fascinated by it. It was the reason why he had restored the decrepit old Manor House. It was the reason why he had acquired land.

And in marrying me he would share it … perhaps own it.

I wished that I had not listened to that conversation.

Helena and I dined quietly that evening. I said I should like to retire early as there was so much to do tomorrow. So we said good night and went to our respective rooms.

My uneasiness was deepening, and try as I might I could not dispel it.

It was a long time before I slept; then I was haunted by dreams from which I kept waking, startled and alarmed. They were jumbled and seemed meaningless when I tried to recall them. My parents were in them with Jacco, Digory and Gregory Donnelly. It seemed to me that they were all warning me, that some great danger was threatening me.

Then I dreamed the most frightening dream of all.

I was in the woods and I saw torches through the trees. I went forward and there was the cottage with the roof aflame and holding the torch which had lighted it was a tall figure in a grey robe. The hood covered his face. I crept up to it. I could feel the heat from the torch and I put out my hand and touched the rough serge of the robe. The figure turned towards me and the hood fell back. Rolf was looking at me. He seized me. “Too late,” he whispered. “Too late. I was there … I am here … now.” He held the torch above my head and I screamed: “Let me go.”

He answered: “No. It is too late.”

“What do you want with me?” I cried.

“Cador,” he said. “I want Cador.”

I awoke. I think I must have cried out. I sat up in bed. I heard the creaking sound of a door opening. It was my cupboard. I caught my breath. It was Rolf, I thought, in the grey robe. He was there, menacing me, ready to step out and seize me as he had in the dream.

But I was not dreaming now.

I sat there, cowering back, my heart feeling as though it would burst out of my body.

“No,” I whispered. “No, no. Go away.”

Nothing happened. But it was there. The robe.

My eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness of the room. Now I could see clearly. I got out of bed. I was almost sobbing in terror. It was not the robe that I saw. The cupboard door had swung open and it was the dress which Jennie had made for me which was hanging there.

It was part of my nightmare but it seemed to have a frightening significance.

I shut the cupboard door firmly and set a chair against it. The catch was weak and a gust of wind would now and then blow it open, which was what had happened now.

That was all. It was just that coming after my dream it was like a symbol; and I thought suddenly: I cannot marry Rolf.

In my heart I did not believe him. He had been there that night. He was not the man I believed him to be. People are not always what one thinks them. I had thought Joe Cresswell was an honourable man and he had made me an accomplice in stealing documents to incriminate Uncle Peter. Uncle Peter had deceived people for years. I felt lost and alone. I had no experience of men. Gregory Donnelly had frightened me with his crude and meaningful glances, but at least I knew him for what he was.

And Rolf? He would not have lied. Or would he? He knew that I had changed after that Midsummer’s Eve. He knew now why. He wanted Cador. He would have lied … for Cador.

And if he were indeed there that night, if it was he who had led on the mob to do that cruel thing, he was not the man I had loved so slavishly in my childhood. But he was kind and gentle, I knew. Part of him was; but people were made up of many parts.

He was obsessed by Cador. He loved the place. I saw the excitement in his eyes when he talked of it. Of course he wanted to marry me. I represented Cador in his eyes.

If I spoke to him, if I tried to explain, he would soothe me. I would believe him for a while … and then the doubts would come.

I could not marry him while I doubted him.

I had promised to marry him when I was not in a fit state to think clearly. I was stunned by the loss of the three people I loved unquestioningly. I had needed loving care and he had been there to offer it. He had given it ardently, it seemed; but was it for Cador?

The servants thought so. He had always wanted it. I remembered those eager conversations when my father was alive and Rolf and his father came to dine with us. He had wanted an estate of his own—and he had acquired one. But it was Cador that he really wanted.

I realized I had acted rashly. I needed time to think.

It was already morning and I could not marry Rolf this day.

It was no use trying to sleep. I got up and lighting four candles I sat down and wrote. I had torn up several sheets before I had completed the letter.

Dear Rolf,

This is a terrible thing I have to do, but I know now that I must. I cannot marry you yet. I hope you will not be too hurt. I think you will come to see that it is perhaps for the best. I have been foolish and rash, and the last thing I want to do is to hurt you, but marriage is such a big step and once the words have been said people are united forever.

I am behaving badly and you will despise me for this. I am trying to find excuses for myself and I can only say that what happened so shattered me that I have felt lost and bewildered ever since. On the ship when we were together it seemed the right thing to do, a kind of way out for me. But marriage is more important than just that. Now that I am home, I am trying to think clearly, to be practical; and I am filled with misgiving.

I have been wondering for some weeks whether I have been rash. To me it seems such a short time since the tragedy.

Rolf, do please try to understand.

As you know I have always been very fond of you, but marriage is so binding, and I do not feel ready to take the step yet.

Forgive me, Rolf.

Annora

I sealed the letter. I must be sure that he received it at once. I did not want him to come to the chapel expecting the ceremony to go ahead.

As soon as it was light I dressed and went downstairs. I saddled my horse and rode over to the Manor.

As I arrived at the Manor stables I saw Luke Tregern on the point of going in. He looked amazed to see me, as well he might.

“Good morning, Miss Cadorson,” he said, his eyebrows slightly raised, his teeth gleaming and his shrewd eyes alight with curiosity.

“Good morning, Luke. I have a letter here. Would you see that it gets to Mr. Hanson immediately?”

“I will indeed, Miss Cadorson. Are you well? Would you care to come into the house? I am sure Mr. Hanson will be up.”

“No thanks. I just want him to get this note … as soon as possible.”

“I will see to it.”

I watched him as he hurried into the house; then I rode away.

I went back to my room. I sat there looking out of the window. My heart was still beating wildly and I was saying to myself: “What have you done?”

I went into Helena’s room. She was surprised to see me.

“Good morning, Annora. Why, what’s the matter?”

“There is to be no wedding, Helena.”

She stared at me. “But …”

“I can’t explain. I just can’t go through with it.”

“But … Rolf …”

“I’ve told him. I wrote a note explaining. I’ve just taken it over myself. Luke Tregern is giving it to him.”

“Annora!”

“I know it is a terrible thing I have done. But I had to. I knew I had to. Helena, I want you to explain to them all. Stop all the preparation …”

“Do you want to talk …?”

I shook my head.

“Just do that for me. Will you, Helena?”

She nodded and went away.

There was a stunned silence throughout the house. It was like a place of mourning. The servants talked in whispers. I could imagine the conversation in the kitchen.

Rolf came over. Helena came to tell me that he was there.

I did not want to see him, but I could not refuse. I had already done him a great injury. I could not add to that.

He was waiting for me in the small room which led from the hall.

He just stood there looking at me in silence.

I began to stammer: “Oh … Rolf … I’m so sorry. I just could not go through with it.”

“Why, Annora? Why?”

“It’s difficult to explain. I just know I can’t. Oh, Rolf, what can I say?”

“To have come so near … !”

“I know. But I had to stop it … before it was too late. Please try to understand.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” His voice sounded cold, remote. I wanted to go to him, to fling my arms round him, to tell him that no matter what the consequences were I would marry him today in the chapel.

But he was looking at me with cold distrust. He had changed. I had never seen him look like that. He was controlling his emotions. The thought came to me, He is seeing Cador slipping out of his grasp.

I felt vindicated suddenly.

I had done the right thing.

I heard myself say almost coolly: “I’m sorry, Rolf, but I had to do it.”

I thought he might plead with me and if he had done so, I might have given way. I loved Rolf. I had always loved him, but between us was that image of the man in the grey robe. I could not rid myself of the fear that he was the one who had worn it on that night; and I imagined that I would always go on believing it. It would be there always, a shadow between us.

“This is definite then,” he said.

I did not answer. I wanted to say: “Wait. It might change.” I might come to terms with this. I loved Rolf. I wanted to be with him. If only I could be sure that he had not been there that night. But he had already said that he was not there. The fact was that I did not believe him.

“There is no need for me to remain,” said Rolf. “You have made it very clear to me. I can do nothing but accept your decision.”

This cold, precise man was not like the Rolf I knew. He was deeply wounded I knew yet it hurt me that he could seem so aloof, almost indifferent. If he had raged at me I could have answered him, perhaps explained. Perhaps we could have made some plans. Perhaps we could wait awhile. Time … that was what I wanted.

But he had gone.

A terrible sense of loneliness swept over me. I knew then that I wanted him back. Even if he had been there on that night, I loved him enough to be able to understand that he was carried away by his desire to watch the behaviour of people and compare it with what had happened long ago.

But he had gone and I had wounded him so deeply that he would never forgive me for what I had done. It was the cruellest blow one partner of a prospective marriage could deal another. If I had broken it off even a week ago the blow would have been less acute. But to leave it until the very day of the wedding, that seemed heartless. I knew that was what he was thinking. He must despise me.

No wonder I was unhappy. I felt I was losing everything I cared for.

That day which was to have been my wedding day seemed as though it would never end. There was no one I could talk to, not even Helena. I could not tell her of my fears, that I did not trust Rolf. Why did I doubt him? He had said he was not there. Until recently I should have believed him—but what had happened in London had made me doubt human nature … and Rolf was human.

How bitter he must be feeling! I tried to tell myself that he would be in mourning for Cador, not for me, but I could not entirely believe that.

If only my parents had not died our marriage would have been a joyous occasion. I should have known that he was not marrying me for my possessions. But would memories of that Midsummer’s Eve be as fresh in my mind even then?

I was afraid it was something I should never forget.

Helena had written to her mother to tell her that the wedding was not taking place for she would be expecting us to arrive in London.

“I haven’t given her any reason,” she said. “I have just written to say that the wedding is off and that we shall be here for a while.”

She did not attempt to probe. Gentleness was one of her greatest qualities which went with a certain acceptance that things did not always go right. That was something she herself had learned through bitter experience.