"Oh ... you mean the rector's daughter. She is here quite frequently. She comes to keep Lavinia company."

"Such a contrast to Lavinia! But then Lavinia is so beautiful."

"Oh yes ... You see, there are so few people. I gather she is quite a pleasant child. The governess thinks so ... and it is good for Lavinia to have the occasional companion. There aren't so many people here, you know. We have to make do with what we can get."

I stared ahead of me. / was the plain child. / was here because they couldn't get anyone else. I was stunned. I knew that my hair was a nondescript brown, that it was straight and unmanageable ... so different from Lavinia's tawny locks; my eyes were no colour at all. They were like water, and if I wore blue they were blueish, green, greenish ... and brown ... just no colour at all. I knew I had a big mouth and an ordinary sort of nose. So that was plain.

And of course Lavinia was beautiful.

My first thought was to go into the schoolroom and demand to be taken home at once. I was very upset. There was a hard lump in my throat. I did not cry. Crying for me was for lighter emotions. Something within me was deeply hurt and I believed that the wound would be with me forever.

"You're late," Lavinia greeted me.

I did not explain. I knew what her reaction would be.

I looked at her afresh. No wonder she could behave badly. She was so beautiful that people did not mind.

Polly, of course, noticed my preoccupation.

"Here, don't you think you'd better tell me?"

"Tell you what, Polly?"

"Why you look about as happy as if you've lost a sovereign and found a farthing."

I could not hold out against Polly, so I told her. "I'm plain, Polly. That means ugly. And I go to the House only because there is no one better here."

"I never heard such a load of nonsense. You're not plain. You're what they call interesting, and that's a lot better in the long run. And if you don't want to go to that house, I'll see you don't. I'll go to the rector and tell him it's got to stop. From what I hear you'd be no worse without them."

"How plain am I, Polly?"

"About as plain as Dundee cake and Christmas pudding."

That made me smile.

"You've got what they call one of them faces that make people stop and take a second look. As for that Lavinia ... or whatever she calls herself ... I don't call her all that pretty when she scowls ... and my goodness, she does a good bit of that. I'll tell you what. She'll have crows' feet round her eyes and railway lines all over her face the way she goes on. And I'll tell you something else. When you smile your face all lights up. Well, then you're a real beauty, you are."

Polly raised my spirits and after a while I began to forget about being plain, and as the House always fascinated me, I tried not to remember that I was only chosen because there was no one better available.

I had caught glimpses of Fabian, though not often. Whenever I did see him I thought of the time when he had made me his baby. He must remember, surely, because he would have been seven when it happened.

He was away at school most of the time and often he did not come home for holidays, but spent them with some school friend. His school friends came to the House sometimes, but they took little notice of us.

On this occasion—it was Easter time, I think—Fabian was home for the holidays. Soon after Miss York and I arrived at the House it began to rain. We had tea and Lavinia and I left the governesses together for their usual chat. We were wondering what to do when the door opened and Fabian came in.

He was rather like Lavinia, only much taller and very grown up. He was four years older than Lavinia and that seemed a great deal, particularly to me, who was a year younger than Lavinia. He must therefore have been twelve, and as I was not yet seven, he seemed very mature.

Lavinia went to him and hung on his arm as though to say, this is my brother. You can go back to Miss York. I shan't need you now.

He was looking at me oddly—remembering, I knew. I was the child whom he had thought was his. Surely such an episode must have left an impression, even on someone as worldly as Fabian.

"Will you stay with me?" pleaded Lavinia. "Will you tell me what we can do? Drusilla has such silly ideas. She likes what she thinks are clever games. Miss Etherton says she knows more than I do ... about history and things like that."

"She wouldn't have to know much to know more than you do," said Fabian—a remark which, coming from anyone else, would have thrown Lavinia into a temper, but because Fabian had said it, she giggled happily. It was quite a revelation to me that there was one person of whom Lavinia stood in awe—not counting Lady Harriet, of course, of whom everyone was in awe.

He said, "History ... I like history, Romans and all that. They had slaves. We'll have a game."

"Oh, Fabian ... really?"

"Yes. I am a Roman, Caesar, I think."

"Which one?" I asked.

He considered. "Julius ... or perhaps Tiberius."

"He was very cruel to the Christians."

"You need not be a Christian slave. I shall be Caesar. You are my slaves and I shall test you."

"I'll be your queen ... or whatever Caesars have," announced Lavinia. "Drusilla can be our slave."

"You'll be a slave, too," said Fabian, to my delight and Lavinia's dismay.

"I shall give you tasks ... which seem to you impossible. It is to prove you and see whether you are worthy to be my slaves. I shall say, 'Bring me the golden apples of Hesperides' ... or something like that."

"How could we get them?" I asked. "They are in the Greek legends. My father is always talking about them. They are not real."

Lavinia was getting impatient, as I, the plain outsider, was talking too much.

"I shall give you the tasks to perform and you must carry them out or suffer my anger."

"Not if it means going down to the underworld and bringing out people who are dead and that sort of thing," I said.

"I shall not command you to do that. The tasks will be difficult ... but possible."

He folded his arms across his chest and shut his eyes as though deep in thought. Then he spoke, as though he were the Oracle of whom my father talked now and then. "Lavinia, you will bring me the silver chalice. It must be a certain chalice. It has acanthus leaves engraved on it."

"I can't," said Lavinia. "It's in the haunted room."

I had never seen Lavinia so stricken, and what astonished me was that her brother had the power to drive the rebellion out of her.

He turned to me. "You will bring me a fan of peacock feathers. And when my slaves return to me, the chalice shall be filled with wine and while I drink it my slave shall fan me with the peacock-feather fan."

My task did not seem so difficult. I knew where there was a peacock-feather fan. I was better acquainted with the house than I had once been and I could find my way easily to Miss Lucille's apartments. I could slip into the room where I knew the fan to be, take it and bring it to Fabian. I should do it so quickly that he would commend me for my speed, while poor Lavinia was screwing up courage to go to the haunted room.

I sped on my way. A feeling of intense excitement gripped me. The presence of Fabian thrilled me because I kept thinking of the way in which he had kidnapped me, and there I had been, living in the house for two weeks just as though I were a member of the family. I wanted to astonish him with the speed with which I carried out my task.

I reached the room. What if the Indian were there? What would I say to her? "Please may I have the fan? We are playing a game and I am a slave."

She would smile, I guessed, and say "Dearie dearie me," in that sing-song voice of hers. I was sure she would be amused and amenable, though I wondered about the old lady. But she would be in the adjoining room, sitting in the chair with the rug over her knees, crying because of the past which came back to her with the letters.

I had opened the door cautiously. I smelt the pungent sandalwood. All was quiet. And there on the mantel shelf was the fan.

I stood on tiptoe and reached it. I took it down and then ran out of the room back to Fabian.

He stared at me in amazement.

"You've found it already?" He laughed. "I never thought you would. How did you know where it was?"

"I'd seen it before. It was when I was playing hide and seek with Lavinia. I went into that room by accident. I was lost."

"Did you see my great-aunt Lucille?"

I nodded. He continued to stare at me.

"Well done, slave," he said. "Now you may fan me while I await my chalice of wine."

"Do you want to be fanned? It's rather cold in here."

He looked towards the window from which came a faint draught. Raindrops trickled down the panes.

"Are you questioning my orders, slave?" he asked.

As it was a game I replied, "No, my lord."

"Then do my bidding."

It was soon after that when Lavinia returned with the chalice. She gave me a venomous look because I had succeeded in my task before she had. I found I was enjoying the game.

Wine had to be found and the chalice filled. Fabian stretched himself out on a sofa. I stood behind him wielding the peacock-feather fan. Lavinia was kneeling proffering the chalice.

It was not long before trouble started. We heard raised voices and running footsteps. I recognized that of Ayesha.

Miss Etherton, followed by Miss York, burst into the room.

There was a dramatic moment. Others whom I had not seen before were there and they were all staring at me. There was a moment's deep silence and then Miss York rushed at me.

"What have you done?" she cried.

Ayesha saw me and gave a little cry. "You have it," she said. "It is you. Dearie dearie me ... so it is you."

I realized then that they were referring to the fan.

"How could you?" said Miss York. I looked bewildered and she went on, "You took the fan. Why?"

"It ... it was a game," I stammered.

"A game!" said Miss Etherton. "The fan ..." Her voice was shaking with emotion.

"I'm sorry," I began.

Then Lady Harriet came in. She looked like an avenging goddess and my knees suddenly felt as though they would not hold me.

Fabian had risen from the sofa. "What a fuss!" he said. "She was my slave. I commanded her to bring me the fan."

I saw the relief in Miss Etherton's face and I felt a spurt of laughter bubbling up. It might have been mildly hysterical, but it was laughter all the same.

Lady Harriet's face had softened. "Oh, Fabian!" she murmured.

Ayesha said, "But the fan ... Miss Lucille's fan ..."

"I commanded her," repeated Fabian. "She had no alternative but to obey. She is my slave."

Lady Harriet began to laugh. "Well, now you understand, Ayesha. Take the fan back to Miss Lucille. No harm has been done to it and that is an end to the matter." She turned to Fabian. "Lady Goodman has written asking if you would care to visit Adrian for part of the summer holiday. How do you feel?"

Fabian shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Shall we talk about it? Come along, dear boy. I think we should give a prompt reply."

Fabian, casting a rather scornful look at the company which had been so concerned over such a trivial matter as the borrowing of a fan, left with his mother.

The incident was, I thought, over. They had been so concerned and it seemed to me that there was something important about the fan, but Lady Harriet and Fabian between them had reduced it to a matter of no importance.

Ayesha had gone, carrying the fan as though it were very precious, and the two governesses had followed her. Lavinia and I were alone.

"I have to take the chalice back before they find we had that, too. I wonder they didn't notice, but there was such a fuss over the fan. You'll have to come with me."

I was still feeling shocked, because I had been the one to take the fan, which was clearly a very important article since it had caused such a disturbance. I wondered what would have happened if Fabian had not been there to exonerate me from blame. I should probably have been banned from the house forevermore. I should have hated that, although I never felt welcome there. Still, the fascination was strong. All the people in it interested me ... even Lavinia, who was frequently rude and certainly never hospitable.