We had said we would go for a ride and have lunch out.

“I expect he wants to show you another of his pet inns,” said Dorothy.

She was asked to accompany us but said she had not the time. She had promised to look out some jumble for the church sale, and she wanted to take it over to Mrs. Want age and with her put a price on some of the goods they already had.

So Lawrence and I set out. We went to our favourite spot, the ruined castle, and there we tethered our horses and climbed the slope to the battlements.

Lawrence did not hesitate and when we had seated our selves, came straight to the point.

“Carmel, I know I am some years older than you, but I think you are quite fond of me and Dorothy as well, of course.”

He pulled up a blade of grass and, studying it, went on: “Well, we get along, don’t we, the three of us? These weekends have been very happy for me. I don’t think I H have ever been so happy before. I love you.

I know that it is not very long since we caught up with each other, but there was that incident. “

I was not surprised, of course, but I was a little at a loss.

I should have been prepared, but I hesitated, and he continued: “We could be married soon … just as soon as you are ready. We have the London place and this to step into.”

“Lawrence,” I said quickly, “I don’t think I want to be married … not just yet. Everything seems to have happened so quickly since I came home.”

“Of course. I understand that. You need time. Of course you do. Well, there is no great hurry. I don’t want you to go back to Australia and forget all about us.”

“I shan’t do that, I assure you. It is just that I should like to go on as we are … for a time.”

“Then we shall. Why not? It’s very pleasant. Then the idea is not too absurd to you? My age … ?”

“Oh, Lawrence,” I cried.

“That would not matter in the least. It’s not so much, after all. It is just that I am … unready.”

“I understand. I feel that I have known you for a long time. Your father and I were good friends … long before I met you. He talked about you a great deal. He was very proud of his daughter. Then we met and we had our little adventure. You see, it doesn’t seem such a short acquaintance to me.”

“You and Dorothy have been so good to me. I can’t tell you how much you have both done for me. I was very wretched and you were a comfort on the ship … Then, having me here so often and being my very good friends.”

He took my hand and pressed it.

“You are getting over it gradually. I know you never will-quite- but it has faded a little, hasn’t it?

The grief is not quite so intense. “

“I have been so fortunate in my friends. Elsie, Gertie, the Hysons, you and Dorothy.”

“It is a great joy to us that we have been able to help. We both love you dearly, Carmel.”

“Thank you, Lawrence,” I said.

“And I love you both. But you see, marriage … it’s such an undertaking. It is something I should have to think about. I am so unsure…”

“Of course, of course. Let us put it aside for the moment. I shall ask you again when you have had time to discover how you really feel.”

He took my hand and helped me to rise and, as I stood beside him, he kissed my cheek.

“Oh Lawrence,” I said.

“Thank you. You are so good and kind. I know I could be happy with you … and Dorothy … but…”

“Of course, I understand.”

He took my arm and we went to the horses.

We lunched in a quaint old inn, the origins of which he described enthusiastically, and then we rode back.

Dorothy was home, waiting for us, and I was sure she knew that he had asked me. I had the impression that she was waiting for an announcement and was disappointed when it was not made.

Genie’s wedding preparations were going on apace.

Between them, she and Aunt Beatrice had found the house and were now in the process of furnishing it. It was about ten minutes’ walk from the Hyson establishment, situated in a tree-lined street, had a small but pleasant garden and that essential nursery.

I was often called upon to help choose some piece of furniture or to give my opinion on some new plan; and I must say, I was caught up in the general excitement.

I had thought a great deal about Lawrence’s proposal. I smiled to recall it. I could remember every word. It was just what I would have expected it to be-dignified, gallant not exactly what one would call passionate. It was characteristic of Lawrence.

I did think about it very seriously. I was sure that I did not want to go back to Australia. My life was not there among the opal fields of Lightning Ridge or some such place. Much as I loved Elsie, I had always subconsciously felt that England was home. If Toby had been there, it would not have mattered where I was. That would have been where I wanted to be. Perhaps that was an indication. I wanted to be where the people I loved most were. If I had loved James enough to marry him, it would not have mattered where I lived.

There came an invitation to the Grange and I felt that excitement which this never failed to bring.

Lucian continued to puzzle me, although I saw less of that strange, brooding mood which came to him very briefly from time to time. There was an added interest now. I had made a habit of going to see Bridget when I was there. She always seemed pleased to see me.

Jemima Cray did not, however, share the child’s enthusiasm; but sometimes I would find Bridget in the garden, alone with Mary the nursery maid, then I would spend some time with her. Mary seemed almost conspiratorial at such times, which bothered me a little. It seemed such an odd situation. Why had I not met the child, as I surely should have done in normal circumstances? Bridget herself was normal enough. Mary was always watchful during these sessions in the grounds, and I knew it was because she was afraid that Jemima Cray would suddenly descend upon us.

So I happily packed my bag and set forth, full of that expectation which I always felt at the prospect of a visit to the Grange.

Lucian met me at the station as usual, and we set off in high spirits.

Lady Crompton now greeted me with even more friendliness than she had shown when I first appeared. I think she was rather pleased to have a visitor whom she did not have to treat with too much ceremony. She told me at great length about her rheumatism and how it prevented her from doing as much as she had in the past. She enjoyed that topic and I was a good listener. Then she liked to hear about Australia and the various places round the world which I had visited.

Lucian was pleased and amused by her pleasure in my company.

“My mother does not get on so well with everybody,” he commented with a grin.

Camilla had been there once or twice, and she and I had become friends. She told me how life at the Grange had changed in the last years.

“There used to be a great deal of entertaining when my father was alive,” she said.

“Lucian doesn’t seem to have the same taste for it. In fact, everything seemed to change when he married.”

On the Saturday, Lucian and I went riding. He had several calls to make round the estate and I fancied he liked me to go with him. I was beginning to know some of the workers and tenants, which I found interesting.

I was not sure whether I imagined it or whether I really did intercept some significant looks. People often began speculating when they saw a man and a woman together enjoying each other’s company. Did some of these people wonder whether I should be the next Lady Crompton, or was I thinking that, because of James and Lawrence, every man who showed me friendship was thinking of asking me to marry him? People are inclined to imagine that when a young man is unmarried, he must be in need of a wife. That was by no means a certainty and when one has had an unsatisfactory experience, there would be a certain wariness at the prospect of repeating it, I had a notion that that was how Lucian felt, and I must confess that I found those sly looks a little disconcerting.

We had returned to the Grange. Lucian leaped down from his horse to assist me to dismount. He looked up at me and smiled as he took both my hands.

There was a decided pause and I could not quite interpret the expression in his eyes, but it was very warm.

He said: “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came back, Carmel.”

“So am I,” I answered.

I heard a footstep close at hand and, looking beyond Lucian, I saw Jemima Cray walking close to the stable on her way to the house.

Just before I went to dinner that evening, I paid a visit to the nursery to see Bridget. When I entered the room she ran to me and clasped my knees. It was an endearing habit she had. Then she wanted me to sit on the floor with her and form the bricks to make a picture. There were pigs and oxen, sheep and cows; she was very fond of these picture puzzles. She was an enchanting child. I wondered afresh why Lucian never mentioned her. Well, she had the enigmatic Jemima Cray, whom she obviously loved, and there was no doubt of Jemima’s devotion to her.

While we sat there, Jemima appeared. I knew she would find some excuse to separate me from Bridget. She definitely did not like my friendship with the child.

To my surprise, she said quite affably: “Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair. I wonder if I could have a word with you?”

“But of course,” I replied.

“Mary, take Miss Bridget into her bedroom. She can have her milk there. You can get it for her. Not too hot, mind.”

Mary looked at the clock on the wall. Like her, I knew the nursery ritual. It was too soon for Bridget’s milk.

“Do as you are told,” said Jemima in a voice which must be obeyed; and Mary prepared to carry out the order.

Bridget protested.

“No,” she said.

“No, no.”

“Now, pet,” said Jemima in gentler tones.

“You go with Mary. You’re going to have some nice milk.”

Bridget was taken out, still protesting, and I was flattered by her reluctance to leave, but all the same eager to hear what Jemima had to say.

“Well, Miss Sinclair,” she said as soon as we were alone.

“I’d like a word in your ear. I only speak because I think it’s right and proper that you should not be in the dark.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Things are not always what they seem, you know.”

“Indeed, I know that.”

She put her face close to mine, assuming an air of wisdom. Her eyes were small and too closely set together. I thought she looked like a witch.

“I think you are a good, respectable young lady and you should not be deceived.”

“It is the last thing I want,” I said.

“I should like to be enlightened in whatever way you think.”

She nodded.

“There is one who should be here now, and would be … but for what others did to her. If anyone was thinking of taking her place, I reckon they ought to think twice before they took that step.”

I felt myself flushing, and I said: “I don’t understand what you are implying, Miss Cray.”

“I think you do,” she said severely.

“All I am trying to do is drop a word in your ear. It’s for your good. She married into this place and, before a year was out, she was dead and before she came here she was a merry, lighthearted little thing.”

“You are referring to … ?”

“My Miss Laura, that’s who.”

“I understood she died giving birth to Bridget.”

“Poor mite. She never ought to have been put through it. He knew that and yet he made her. There had to be a child … a son, I suppose.

The family and all that nonsense. She knew it was dangerous. I knew.

But it had to be. It was pitiful to see her. Frightened, she was. She said to me: “Jemima, you’ll always stay and look after my baby when I’m gone, won’t you? You’ll look after my baby, just as you’ve looked after me.” And I swore I would. Oh, it was wicked. It was cruel.”

I said: “It was very sad that she died, but it does happen sometimes.”

Her face hardened.

“There’s some as would say it was murder,” she said.

“Miss Cray!” I said.

“You must not make such insinuations. It’s quite wrong. It is natural for people to have children when they marry.”

“He knew, just as she knew. But it had to be. Oh, he knew well enough and I reckon that’s the same sort of thing as murder. And nothing will make me change my mind. That’s the sort he is. And people should know it.” She rose and in a matter-of-fact voice went on: “Well, I must go and see to Bridget. You can’t trust that Mary with much.”