He was laughing. He said: “I enjoy so much being with you.”

“Then perhaps my sins are forgiven?”

“It depends on what you have committed.”

“Well — tonight for instance. I am the uninvited guest. The Chatelaine with false keys … and not even an invitation card.”

“I told you I am pleased you came.”

“Did you tell me that?”

“If I did not I tell you now.”

“Ah, Sir Troubadour,” I said, “let us dance. And have you seen the time? I suppose they will unmask at midnight. I must disappear before the witching hour.”

“So the Chatelaine has turned into Cinderella?”

“To be turned at midnight into the humble serving wench.”

“I have never yet been aware of your humility — although I admit you have many more interesting qualities.”

“Who cares? I have always suspected the humble. Come, sir. You are not dancing. This music inspires me so and I have not much longer.”

And we danced and I knew that he was reluctant for me to leave. But I left a full twenty minutes before midnight. I had no intention of being discovered by Lady Crediton. Besides, I remembered Monique would no doubt be waiting to hear what had happened. I could never be sure what she would do. She might suddenly decide to see for herself. I pictured her coming down and looking for me and perhaps betraying me.

She was awake when I got up to her room and inclined to be sullen. Where had I been all this time? She had felt so breathless; she had thought she was going to have an attack. Wasn’t it my place to be with her? She had thought I would just go down and come straight back.

“What would have been the good of that?” I demanded. “I had to show you that I could deceive them all.”

She was immediately restored to good humor. I described the dancers, the plump Restoration knight who had flirted with me; I imitated him and invented dialogue between us. I danced about the room in my costume, reluctant to take it off.

“Oh, Nurse,” she said, “you’re not in the least like a nurse.”

“Not tonight,” I said. “I’m the Chatelaine of the Castle. Tomorrow I shall be the stern nurse. You’ll see.”

She became hysterical laughing at me; and I became rather alarmed. I gave her an opium pill and taking off my costume, I put on my nursing dress and sat by her bed until she slept.

Then I went to my room. I looked out of the window. I could hear the strains of music still. They would have unmasked; and were dancing again.

Poor Rex, I thought maliciously. He wouldn’t be able to evade Miss Derringham now.


June 7th. There is a strange flat feeling throughout the Castle. The Derringhams are leaving. Last night was the great finale, the great ceremonial ball. Everyone is talking about it. Edith came into my room on a pretext of inspecting Betsy’s work but actually to talk to me.

“It’s very surprising,” she said. “There was no announcement. Mr. Baines had made all the arrangements. We were going to celebrate in the servants’ hall naturally. They would expect it. And there was simply no announcement.”

“How very odd!” I said.

“Her ladyship is furious. She hasn’t spoken to Mr. Rex yet. But she will. As for Sir Henry he is very annoyed. He did not give Mr. Baines the usual appreciation and he has always been most generous. Mr. Baines had promised me a new gown because he was sure that after the announcement Sir Henry would be more generous than usual.”

“What a shame! And what does it mean?”

Edith came close to me. “It means that Mr. Rex did not come up to scratch as the saying goes. He just let the ball go by without asking Miss Derringham. It is most odd because everyone was expecting it.”

“It just goes to show,” I said, “that no one should ever be too sure of anything.”

With that Edith heartily agreed.


June 9th. Lady Crediton is clearly very upset. There have been “scenes” between her and Rex. The acrimonious exchanges between mother and son could not go entirely unheard by one or other of the servants and I gathered that there must have been some lively conversation behind the green baize door and at that table presided over with the utmost decorum by Baines at one end and Edith at the other. Edith of course learned a great deal and she was not averse to imparting it to me. I was very interested and rather sorry that my special status in the household prevented my joining those very entertaining meals when the conversation must have been so lively — I am sure it made up for the celebration they missed.

“My word,” said Edith, “her ladyship is in a nice paddy. She reminds him what he owes to her. You see Sir Edward had a very high opinion of her and she still has a business head on her shoulders. She’s the one who always has to have the last say in all business matters. And if she couldn’t cut him off with a shilling — as the saying goes — she could divert a big proportion of the shares. That was her word, ‘divert.’ Mr. Baines heard it distinctly.”

“To whom I wonder would she divert. To Captain Stretton?”

“Never! She could tie things up in some sort of trust … perhaps for Mr. Rex’s children if he had any. But she could make it so that he didn’t have all that much say in things after she’d gone. No more than he has now. Her ladyship is in a fine paddy, I can tell you.”

“And Mr. Rex?”

“He keeps saying he wants time. He doesn’t want to rush into anything and all that.”

“So he hasn’t definitely decided against the marriage.”

“No. It’s just that he hasn’t committed himself. He’ll come to it.”

“Can you be sure of that?”

“Oh yes, it’s what her ladyship wants and she always gets what she wants.”

“She didn’t … once.”

Edith looked surprised and I pretended to be embarrassed. “Well, it’s common knowledge,” I went on. “I was thinking of how put out she must have been about the Captain and Mrs. Stretton … but she had to accept that.”

“Ah, that was Sir Edward’s will. There was no going against that. But there’s no Sir Edward now, is there? And her ladyship has taken his place. You mark my words, Mr. Rex will come to it sooner or later. A pity he had to hang about like this … when you think of all those preparations Mr. Baines made for the staff celebration.”

“Very unfair to Mr. Baines,” I commented; and wondered whether I had gone too far; but Edith was incapable of recognizing irony. It certainly had been inconvenient for Mr. Baines.


June 13th. I have heard today — through Edith — that Sir Henry is taking Miss Derringham on a long sea voyage. It will be very beneficial to the health of them both.

“They are going to Australia,” said Edith. “They’ve a branch there. So have we, of course. After all, many of our main voyages are to Australia and back. So naturally we’ve our branch there. Sir Henry’s not the sort to go for pleasure alone. But of course they’re going because of the disappointment.”

“What does her ladyship think of that?”

“She’s furious. Do you know it wouldn’t surprise me if she punished Mr. Rex.”

“Send him to bed without his supper?”

“Oh, Nurse, you are a one for jokes. But she was talking about solicitors and all that.”

“But I thought it was only a postponement and that he just wanted Time.”

“Suppose she meets Another out there?”

“But surely there isn’t another shipping line like ours!”

“There is certainly not,” said Edith stanchly. “But Sir Henry has fingers in lots of pies. He’s a man with wide business interests. He might have someone else in mind for Miss Derringham.”

“Then what shall we do?”

Edith laughed. “You can bet her ladyship’s got the trump card up her sleeve.”

Yes, I thought; and I wondered what would happen when she used it.

9

June 18th. The Captain has come home. What a stir there is in the house. He is not as important as Rex, of course, but somehow he makes his presence felt. For the last few days Monique has been impossible to control — alternating between excitement and depression. “You’ll love the Captain, Nurse,” she told me.

“I think that is an exaggeration,” I replied deciding to be the cool nurse.

“Nonsense! All women do.”

“Is he so devastatingly attractive?”

“He’s the most attractive man in the world.”

“It’s a mercy we don’t all think alike on such matters.”

“People think alike about him.”

“Wifely prejudice,” I retorted, “and very admirable, of course.”

She tried on her dresses, exhausting herself; then she was depressed. I found her crying quietly one afternoon before he came back. It was not unusual that she should cry but that she should do it quietly was.

“He doesn’t want me,” she gasped between sobs.

“What nonsense,” I said nonsensically. “You’re his wife. And pray calm yourself. You want to be well for his return. Now come along. What shall you wear for the great occasion? These beautiful corals. How lovely they are!” I slipped them round my neck. I loved beautiful things and they became me as much as they did her. “These,” I said, “and that long blue dress. It’s most becoming.” She had stopped crying to watch me. I took it out of the wardrobe and tried it against myself. “There,” I said, “don’t you think that’s lovely. Don’t you see how right for a dutiful wife?” I composed my features in a humble and devoted expression which made her smile. I was finding that I could often lure her from a stormy mood to a sunny one by one of my little acts.

She talked about him then. “We did not know each other so very well when we married. He had come to the Island … only twice.”

I pictured the big gleaming ship and the irresistible Captain in his uniform; the beautiful girl and the tropical island.

“He was brought to the house by a friend of my mother’s,” she said. “He dined with us and afterward we walked in the gardens among the fan-shaped palms and the fireflies.”

“And he fell in love with you.”

“Yes,” she said, “for a time.”

Her lips were beginning to tremble so I started to play the amorous captain and the dusky beauty in the garden where the fireflies flitted about the fan-shaped palms.

Oh yes, poor Monique was certainly difficult during those days.

And when he was in the house it changed, because without meaning to he made his presence felt. And when I saw him I realized the attraction. He was certainly good looking — taller than Rex, more blond, lacking that reddish tinge which was Rex’s; but their features were similar. The Captain laughed more readily, talked more loudly; and I should imagine was less guarded than Rex. He was the adventurer type — the sea rover; Rex’s adventures would be confined to business deals. Rex seemed pale in comparison with the Captain whose skin was deeply tanned; his deep blue eyes were more startling than Rex’s topaz-colored ones.

I couldn’t help being excited by his arrival. But I did wonder whether his coming had added any happiness to the house. I daresay his mother was delighted to see him; and I wondered whether I ought to have a word with him regarding the seriousness of her illness; but perhaps that was for Dr. Elgin to do. Lady Crediton was cool toward him for obvious reasons and I heard from Edith that this seemed to amuse him rather than upset him. He was that sort of man. I was sorry for poor Monique because it became very clear to me that she was not happy. You’re fickle, Captain, I thought; the exotic little flower once plucked no longer charms you.

And I was thinking a great deal about Anna. I always do; but particularly now that the Captain was home. But it was long ago that he went to visit her and caused such trouble with old Miss Brett. I could understand the fascination he had had for Anna, though.


June 20th. The Captain came to my room this morning, nonchalant, at ease, very much the man of the world.

“Nurse Loman,” he said, “I wanted to speak to you.”

“Certainly Captain Stretton. Do sit down.”

“About your patients,” he went on.

Ah yes, he would be concerned about his wife and his mother.

“They are both a little better at the moment,” I said. “Perhaps it is due to their pleasure in your return.”

“Do you find any change in my wife since you’ve been here? Has her complaint … worsened?”