“He’s dead,” I said sharply, ‘so he can’t come back. “

“He could if he wanted to. He could do anything. Don’t make any mistake about that. Something’s going to happen. It always does where he is … and he’s here. I’m sure of it. I knew him well.”

I shivered. She was so like Jessica and I felt that I was caught up in some intricate pattern which kept repeating itself.

“The others will be wondering what has happened to me,” I said.

She ignored that.

“Lady Cardew died suddenly,” she said.

“We weren’t expecting it. It was very strange. Sometimes I think ..”

Fortunately I heard Minta’s voice calling me.

“I’m here,” I called.

She stood in the doorway, Stirling holding the lamp behind her.

“Oh, Lizzie!” she said rather reproachfully.

“I’ve been talking to Mrs. Herrick,” said Lizzie almost defiantly.

“Well, now we’ve found you we’d better continue with the tour,” said Minta. She added gently: “Lizzie, I should get back to your room if I were you. It’s rather chilly to hang about here.”

“Yes, Miss Minta,” said Lizzie meekly.

Minta turned and we all followed her. On the next landing Lizzie disappeared and Minta took us to show us the carved banisters which led up to the minstrels’ gallery.

“I hope Lizzie didn’t scare you,” said Minta.

“She’s been rather odd since my mother died.”

“Like Jessica,” said Stirling. And to Minta: “She’s a cousin of my mother’s and she went a bit queer when my mother died. They were always together.”

“Very like Jessica,” I agreed.

“They are two devoted people.”

“I must speak to her,” went on Minta, “She mustn’t go wandering round these closed-up rooms. This minstrels’ gallery was put in in the sixteenth century when this wing was built. You didn’t notice it from the hall because the curtains were drawn.”

We examined it and I pretended to show interest but my encounter with Lizzie had started up so many memories that my thoughts were far away.

I kept imagining Lynx in this house attracting the young lady whom he was teaching—and the maid at the same time.

When we rejoined the others the doctor was about to take his leave. He had one or two patients he wanted to look in on and he said he would take Maud home at the same time. I suggested that we ought to go too and Franklyn immediately offered to drive us home. So we said goodbye and soon were driving the short distance to the Mercer’s House.

“What a place!” Stirling was saying.

“I have never been is such a house.”

“I should think not,” I retorted.

“It’s unique.”

There are other houses which have been built on the site of old monasteries . and with some of the original stones,” said Franklyn.

“Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire springs to mind.”

“It’s a pity,” said Stirling, ‘that they can’t afford the necessary repairs. “

“A great pity,” agreed Franklyn.

“Perhaps they’d be wise to sell it to someone who could put it to rights.”

“Oh never!” cried Franklyn.

“It’s an institution. It’s a tradition.”

“That sort of house belongs to posterity,” said Stirling rather pompously.

“If people can’t afford to run it they should let it go.”

“If it were mine, I never would,” I said.

“And you can be sure,” added Franklyn, ‘that the Cardews never will either. “

The lights of Mercer’s were visible and we drove the rest of the way in silence.

We were too excited for bed. We went into the drawing-room and Stirling threw himself on to the sofa. I sat down in the armchair looking at him.

“The first move,” he said.

“Well, if you think you’ve made a move, I don’t.”

“We’ve been there. We’ve inspected the house. My goodness, it needs some money spent on it, and they haven’t two brass farthings to rub together.”

“Exaggeration! And who wants to rub brass farthings together, which I’m sure they could easily do if they had a mind to.”

“You’re becoming infected by Mr. Franklyn Wakefield. That’s just the sort of thing he would have said.”

“Then he’d be talking sense.”

“But, seriously, Nora, what a satisfactory evening!”

“Was it? I came away with the impression that they would never for one moment consider selling Whiteladies.”

What will they do? Let it fall about their ears? “

“It’s in no danger of imminent collapse.”

“It’ll be worthless if they let it go much farther.”

“It’ll always be their home. Let them enjoy it. I happen to like this Mercer’s House. It’s really far more comfortable.”

“It’ll do until we move into Whiteladies.”

“And when will that be?”

“In the not far distant future. I feel it in my bones.”

“I wouldn’t rely on them.”

“You’re determined to be pessimistic.”

“I think I see this more clearly than you do.”

“Let’s be practical.”

“Yes, let’s. But they are not what you would call practical people.

They’ll never sell Whiteladies. That’s been made clear. Franklyn implied it. He would know. “

“He would know nothing. He’s quite obtuse. He knows how to bow and make the sort of remark people want to hear. That’s the sum total of his accomplishments. And since when have you been on Christian name terms?”

“We aren’t. I only call him Franklyn privately. I think you underestimate him.”

“Listen, Nora. These people are not like us. They’ve been brought up to luxury. They haven’t the same stamina and vitality. We’re different. Think of our fathers. They had ambition, the ability to go out and get what they wanted. We have inherited that. They haven’t.

They were brought up in their mansions; they think they’ll inherit from Papa and that’s that. But if there’s nothing for them to inherit, what then?

I’ll make a bet with you, Nora. We’ll be in Whiteladies this time next year. “

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s the wrong attitude. You invite failure when you’re certain of it.”

“Perhaps I don’t think it would be such a failure.”

“It was what my father wanted,” he said.

“It’s what he would expect.”

And it was as though Lynx looked at me through his eyes, so that I felt I was a traitor and was silent.

Stirling smiled at me tenderly.

“You’ll see,” he said.

We were invited not only to Whiteladies and Wakefield Park but to the vicarage and several other houses. We had become part of the life of the neighbourhood, Maud Mathers saw to that. I was glad to be of use, for I had taken a great liking to her. She seemed to have such good sound sense. I had a great respect for her, too. My feelings for Minta and Franklyn were to some extent affected by Stirling’s attitude towards them. He seemed to despise them faintly. He was continually stressing that they weren’t like us; they had been brought up in a different school. Whenever he discussed them a faintly pitying note would creep into his voice. I laughed at him for it, but it had its effect on me.

Lucie exasperated him a little. I knew why. She was more like ourselves. She had not been brought up to accept a life of luxury; she was practical and obviously doing everything she could to live within the means at their disposal. Stirling was aware of this. It hurt me in a way to see how he rejoiced in the ill fortunes of the Cardews. He had an obsession. Yet I could not entirely disapprove, for everything he did was due to his devotion to his father’s memory.

On the Saturday before harvest festival I went to the church to help Maud decorate. We worked hard arranging chrysanthemums, asters, dahlias and Michaelmas daisies round the altar. There were enormous vegetable marrows, too, and tomatoes and cabbages all on display.

Bunches of corn were tied up with red ribbon and set side by side with loaves of delicious crusty bread which would later be distributed to the needy.

“It’s been a good year for the harvest,” said Maud, looking down at me from the ladder, on the top rung of which she was standing draping russet-coloured leaves over a brass rail.

“Be careful you don’t fall,” I warned.

“I’ve decorated this spot in the same way for the last five years. I’m surefooted.”

I came over to steady the ladder and hold it for her.

“What on earth would happen if you were out of action?” I asked.

“Father would have lots of helpers who would do just as well.”

“I don’t believe it. And just think of the work you’d give poor Dr. Hunter. He’s overworked already.”

“Yes,” she said soberly, ‘he is. “

She came down the ladder then and I noticed how rosy her cheeks were.

“I’ve often told him he should have help,” she went on.

“Sometimes I feel anxious for him.” She bit her lip. She was embarrassed.

“He seems . worried. It’s having so much to do.”

I was sure she was right, I told her. I’d noticed it too.

“Do you think these bronze chrysanthemums would look well with the leaves?” I asked her.

“Perfect. I do wish something could be done about Dr. Hunter.” Then she started to talk about him, his selfless devotion to his cases; the good he had done to this one and that.

As I arranged the flowers and leaves I thought: She’s in love with him.

I rode a good deal that autumn. Life in Australia had made a competent horsewoman of me and riding seemed the easiest and most convenient method of getting around. Stirling sometimes accompanied me. He was getting restive and making all sorts of plans. He was going to acquire land and saw himself as a local squire, which, I told him, would be usurping Franklyn Wakefield’s place.

“There’s no reason why there shouldn’t be two of us,” he would say.

But the first task was to get possession of Whiteladies and he was no nearer doing that than when we had arrived.

He wanted to go to see Sir Hilary and make an offer. I dissuaded him because I was certain he would be disappointed; and he accepted my advice when I reminded him that he might set the Cardews against him if they guessed at his motive for cultivating their friendship.

I often rode with Franklyn Wakefield. He made a habit of calling at Mercer’s and suggesting he show me some part of the country which I hadn’t seen before. I enjoyed those rides. We would often tether our horses outside some old inn—he always seemed to be well known in these places-and lunch off bread and cheese and cider. The food always tasted exceptionally good and I enjoyed meeting the people to whom he introduced me. I was aware of the great respect in which he and his family were held and this pleased me.

I loved the odours of autumn—the mist which was often in the air; the smell of burning leaves as we passed some garden; the nip in the air which made my skin tingle. I watched the trees gradually denuded of their leaves to make a lacy pattern against the grey-blue sky. And I learned much about the responsibilities of a country squire, for he took them seriously; I became accustomed to his rather pedantic style of speaking and grew to like it. When I was with him I forgot that slightly patronizing attitude of Stirling’s which had rubbed off on me. There was something dependable about this man which I respected. I realized, too, how great was his affection for his parents. He was devoted to them. So he was to his tenants and I was astonished by how much he knew—and cared-about their affairs.

One rather warm November day when the red sun was veiled by mist, and spiders’ webs were draped across the hedgerows, we rode out together.

He was rather subdued that day and I asked him if anything had happened to upset him.

“It’s not unexpected,” he answered.

“Dr. Hunter thinks my father can only have another six months to live.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“He is old and his condition is worsening. I am more particularly worried about my mother.”

“She is ill, too?”

“No, but they have been so close all their lives. They were neighbours and knew each other from childhood. I can’t imagine what would happen to her if my father died.”

“She will have you.”

“I don’t think that would be enough. She will be so heartbroken it will kill her.

“Do you think people die of broken hearts?”

This would be a broken life. “

I was, as alive as I had ever been.

We rode in silence and he sensed my sympathy, I knew.