“All the same, when you think of what it means to poor Amelia …”

“She’ll get over it. She’ll probably marry again and have a brood of children, then the loss of this one won’t be so important to her. I know she won’t get over it easily. She wanted this place. Of course she did. But it does seem wrong that when it was St. Clare property for so long, it should go to someone outside the family. After all, she is not a St. Clare … except by marriage. And the child … Well, it is hard to grieve because an unborn child has lost an inheritance simply because it is never going to be in a position to claim it.”

“You seem jubilant.”

Again he shook me with a kind of tender exasperation, and again I felt that shiver of fear. Would this go on? Would I always be watchful, waiting for the man I had seen emerge on that night?

“I am not jubilant, but I am not a hypocrite, and I should be if I told you that I hardly enjoyed seeing my inheritance snatched from under my nose. I would not be telling the truth if I said I was not glad it is coming back to me. I am sorry it had to happen this way, that’s all.”

He was smiling at me gently, but the glitter in his eyes continued to alarm me. And a suspicion had come into my mind. He had gone to pick her up in the town. Why had he not let one of the men go with the trap? He was not all that eager for Amelia’s company. But he had gone himself, and there had been an accident. I remembered how proud he was of his skilful handling of his horses and yet. there had been an accident . when Amelia was driving with him; and he knew, as we all did, that Amelia carried her children precariously and that the doctor had warned her of exerting herself in the slightest way.

No, I thought. I must not allow my thoughts to take that line . just because that night I had seen another side of him. He had had a blow on his head and he was not himself. on that night. I must not think the worst . if only for my own sake. But how can one prevent thoughts from coming into one’s head?

In less than two weeks Amelia decided to pay a visit to Jack and Dorothy St. Clare in Somerset. She told me that she felt the need to get away and I told her that I understood.

Sometimes I saw her looking rather oddly at Aubrey and I wondered whether the same thought which had come into my mind had occurred to her.

She was glad to get away and I think Aubrey was relieved to see her go. Perhaps I was, too. Her presence was a constant reminder of my suspicions, and I was trying hard to thrust them from my mind, to live normally, even to convince myself that I had imagined a good deal of what had happened on that night.

I did not want anything to intrude on my thoughts of the child I was carrying.

I went up to London to stay for a week with my father. He was delighted to see me and thrilled at the prospect of becoming a grandfather.

I thought he looked a little tired. Polly told me that he worked too hard. He brought papers home and long after she and Jane had retired he was shut up in his study.

I remonstrated with him about this and he replied that his reports and his work had become of great importance to him since he could no longer be active in the field, and a surfeit never hurt those who enjoyed it.

He wanted detailed accounts of everything that was happening. I told him of the pleasant part, but of course I had to mention the loss of Amelia’s baby; and he referred again to the attack on Aubrey in Venice.

“It’s an uneasy city,” he said.

“I don’t think the Austrians will hold on to it much longer. In such conditions violence invariably simmers under the surface. You should have chosen somewhere else for your honeymoon although I’ll admit you would have been hard pressed to find a more romantic spot.”

“By the way,” I said, ‘when I went shopping . “

“To good effect,” he said, glancing at the plaque on the wall, for we were in his study.

“Aubrey had called to see the Freelings - I was not eager to go and it was when he was leaving that he was attacked.”

“The Freelings …” said my father slowly.

“Yes. They happened to be on holiday in Venice. Apparently Captain Freeling had resigned from the army. I thought that was rather strange.”

My father was silent for a few moments, then he said: “Yes, I did hear something. There was some trouble.”

As he continued to hesitate I said impatiently: “Yes? What?”

“Well, it was rather secret, it seems. They didn’t want a fuss and scandal. Bad for the regiment and all that. He was forced to resign.”

“What had he done?”

“There was something about wild parties … taking native drugs and so on. Apparently there was a little community of participants. There was one other officer involved and some residents… not army personnel. So they couldn’t be touched. In any case it was decided it should not be given any publicity … because of the army, you see.

You know how these things get blown up in the press. We should have been hearing that the entire British army was taking drugs and indulging in orgies. “

“What a dreadful thing for Captain Freeling.”

“Secretly I think he was under the influence of his wife, a frivolous and rather silly woman, I always thought. Don’t mention this to anyone. Keep it in the family. These things have a way of seeping out.

Shouldn’t have mentioned it to you, even. But I know I can trust you to keep quiet. “

“Of course you can. What drugs were they? And you say some people were involved … not in the army.”

“Oh yes. There was a little gang of them. It was largely opium, I think. There’s some mysterious fellow, said to be writing a book about drugs or something. Interested in it all for research. He wasn’t there at the time but his name was mentioned.”

“What was his name?”

“Oh … I forget.”

My thoughts had gone back to that conversation with my ayah. What had she said about a man? A devil, she had called him.

“It’s dangerous to dabble in these things,” said my father.

“We couldn’t have one of our men … and someone in a responsible position … not that they are not all in responsible positions .. but these drugs it appears can make people act oddly and when they are under the influence of them they are capable of … just anything.”

I felt very uneasy and was almost on the point of telling my father of that nightmare experience when Aubrey had come home after the attack.

He had been to see the Freelings. I had found the purse in his pocket that purse for which the robbers were supposed to have attacked him.

Strange thoughts came into my mind vague, disturbing.

Perhaps if I had not been pregnant I should have considered them more closely; but a pregnant woman can be obsessed by only one thing: her coming baby. And I was certainly obsessed.

I made many purchases. My father insisted that I take either Jane or Polly with me when I went shopping. They were Londoners, he reminded me; and they had the Londoner’s shrewdness and knowledge of the dangers which could befall newcomers to the big city.

I quite enjoyed the company of both the girls and I had a good time getting together my layette.

I returned to Minster St. Clare refreshed. Only occasionally did I remember what I had heard of the Freelings and reminded myself of that terrible night. I suppose I did not want to probe, which was unlike me. Normally I should not have rested until I had unravelled the strange coincidence of Aubrey’s behaving so oddly after he had seen the Freelings who had been forced to leave India. But my thoughts were continually with the coming baby; and as Aubrey behaved impeccably as the devoted husband and the delighted faiher-to-be, it was easy to send all unpleasant thoughts to the back of my mind.

Aubrey was away from the Minster for most of the day and I really saw little of him. I had taken to retiring early, for I was very tired at the end of the day and was often asleep by the time he came to bed.

Amelia came back from her visit to her cousins the St. Clares, looking a great deal better.

“They were so kind to me,” she said.

“I always liked them. They used to visit us quite a lot. Stephen was fond of them.”

Later she said: “Susanna, I think I shall move from here. After all, there is no real place for me at the Minster now.”

“My dear Amelia, this is your home. What do you mean?”

“Only when I married Stephen did it become my home. Now he is dead and there is a new master and mistress of the house. You see what I mean.”

“No,” I said firmly.

“This is your home and always will be as long as you want it.”

“I know you say that sincerely, and when I go away I shall miss you.

We got on well from the beginning, didn’t we? It is just that I feel I could be happier . right away. There are too many memories here.

Stephen . all the children I’ve lost. I feel I should be wise to start afresh. “

“But where would you go?”

“I’m coming to that. There’s a little cottage in Somerset… very close to Jack and Dorothy. I had a look at it. The lady who owns it is joining her son and his wife in a few months’ time. She is going to live somewhere in the North, and she wants to sell it. Well, Susanna, I have offered to buy it.”

“Oh, Amelia, how I shall miss you!”

“You can come and stay. You and the child …”

A feeling of apprehension descended on me. I had not realized until that moment how very much I had missed her and had been looking forward to her return.

“Oh Susanna … I didn’t think you would mind so much!”

“I look on you as my friend.”

“I am and shall still be. It’s not so very far. We’ll write and visit.

Anyone would think I was going to the ends of the earth. “

“I liked to think of you … in the house.”

She smiled at me.

“I shall be here until the baby is born,” she said.

“I’ve promised myself that.”

“You shall be godmother.” She nodded. I think she was too moved to speak.

The months passed serenely. The first three were the most uncomfortable, I think. I felt queasy so often and spent much of those days in my bedroom.

Aubrey was self-effacing and I saw little of him, which pleased me. I fancied he found illness rather distasteful and I was glad to be left alone. I did not want to think of that vague connection between him and the Freelings. I believed that unpleasant thoughts might harm the baby.

Amelia was often with me. We sewed together and talked; we went for little walks in the gardens and she was always watchful that I should not be overtired. She was wonderful, taking a great delight in my condition, which was very noble of her, considering her own bitter disappointment.

By Christmas-time I was getting bulky and very easily tired.

Amelia took over what little entertaining we did. There was not a great deal as we were still in mourning for Stephen; but with a house such as the Minster there were certain obligations to the neighbourhood. It was a useful experience for me to see what must be done and to have an excuse for not taking a too active part in it.

Amelia had made another trip to Somerset and how I missed her!

I was hoping she would return and say that something had happened to prevent her taking the cottage, which was wrong of me, for I knew she wanted to get away and make a new life for herself.

However, everything seemed to be going according to her plans; the owner of the house was making arrangements for her departure and by May of the new year Amelia believed she would be gone.

When we were alone Aubrey said it was for the best. He knew that Amelia and I were good friends but it was not wise to have two mistresses in the same house. I accepted it now because I was hors de combat.

“But wait until you are fighting fit,” he said.

“There could be little disagreements.

“I am the j mistress here,” type of thing. I know you women. “

“It would not have been like that at all. If you think so, you don’t know me and you don’t know Amelia.”

“I know you very well, my love,” he said, smiling.

The thought came to me then: But how much do I know you, Aubrey?

The long-awaited time was coming nearer.

March blustered its way through the days in traditional fashion, coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb. April was the month of showers and flowers, so it was said. If was the month I had been waiting for ever since I knew how blessed I was to be.