"I daresay he saw to that. Come into the parlour. I'll order some cider for you. I was beginning to get a little worried."

"So was I. I thought I was never going to get back. I wasn't sure of the way but I believe I could have found it myself as easily."

"So you were escorted by the mourning widower." "He didn't seem to be mourning particularly." "Rejoicing more likely from what I hear." The cider came. It was cool and refreshing. "They're noted for it in this part of the world," said Eileen. "So you haven't seen anything of the town. Not that there's much to see."

"Did you find what you wanted?"

"Not exactly what I wanted but what I can make do with. This will help us along for a while. There won't be any time for looking round now. We have to start back as soon as you've finished your cider."

"I wish now that I had stayed in the town."

"He would have discovered you sooner or later. He has a reputation, you know, for assessing the females within his range."

"Oh ... but he is in mourning at the moment. Only yesterday his wife was buried."

"I am sure he was scarcely beating his breast, tearing his sackcloth and scattering his ashes."

"Far from it."

"At least he's honest. He probably feels like killing the fatted calf. No, that's the wrong analogy. He's rejoicing anyway ..."

"Was it as bad as that?"

"There's a tremendous amount of gossip about him. That's one thing the Verringers have always done. Provided the neighbourhood with plenty to talk about. The story is that he married that wife of his ... arranged marriage ... because she brought some big estate with her. But she had an accident in the hunting field, not long after the marriage, which crippled her and that meant that there was no Verringer heir - and as there have been Verringer heirs from 1500 and something, ever since the Verringers took over the Abbey lands, that a matter which could bring no delight to the family. Sir Jason would end the direct line because his younger brother, father of the two girls, died. Would the estates go to a female? Horror throughout the land! And yet, what short of murder could give Sir Jason another chance?"

'Murder!"

"Not a word to be lightly bandied about among ordinary folk. But Verringers? Who shall say? In case the lady dutifully died and, as you arrived, bell was tolling for her." You make it sound very macabre."

"I am told that any adjective may be applied to the and often is. Well, the lady died and there are rumours around ..."

"I thought she was ill for a long time."

"Crippled. Useless for reproduction purposes. But not an illness which is going to prove fatal, you understand. Then Marcia Martindale appears on the scene, gives birth to an infant, and Lady Verringer dies."

"This is all becoming very involved."

"You are going to live here so you will have to something of the local inhabitants; and the t colourful, exciting, dramatic-one might say dramatic- are the Verringers. With Jason e have always been ... women. It is a family and, with an incapacitated wife, what can we expect of such a virile lusty gentleman? He's a house not far from the Abbey. It's called Rooks' Rest - presumably because it is surrounded by elms in which rooks choose to make their nests. It's a small house, Queen Anne and elegant. One of the Verringer aunts lived there for years. Then she died and the place was vacant for a few months. It must have been about eighteen months ago when Marcia Martindale was installed there-strikingly handsome and undoubtedly pregnant. Sir Jason set her up there, and there she has remained. It is rather blatant but, when you are in the position of Sir Jason, you don't have to worry about local reaction. He is after all the powerful overlord, owning all the property and the houses people live in. Such people cannot pass too much judgement on these little peccadilloes. They may be sniggered at, always behind a concealing hand, and little more than a shrugging of the shoulders, and raising of eyes to heaven is permitted."

"Nevertheless a great deal of scandal does seem to be circulating about that man."

"My dear Miss Grant ... may I call you Cordelia? Miss Grant is rather formal and we shall be seeing a lot of each other."

"Please do ... Eileen."

"That's settled. What was I saying? Oh ... little Miranda. Nobody doubts who her progenitor is. It's all so blatantly obvious, and Sir Jason would scorn to cover up any of his actions because he would construe that as weakness. He is the law around here. The rumour is that he has one child and could get more. Who knows, the next might be the longed-for boy. The stage set. And what happens? Lady Verringer dies."

"It sounds diabolical. How did she die?"

`I believe it was an overdose of laudanum. She suffered pain and used to take it. That's the story. You came in at the end of the act to hear the bell Ming for the departed lady. Now the curtain will again ... on what?"

"You do make it sound like a melodrama."

"Believe me, Cordelia. What did I tell you? Where that man is there will be melodrama. Now I have acquainted you with our greatest scandal, and at is more to the point, you have finished your eider. It is time we left."

We paid for the cider, complimented the landlord his brew, and came out into the sunshine. Over the weekend the mistresses began to arrive as Daisy had said they would.

There was Miss Evans who taught geography; Miss Barston who specialized in needlework stressing embroidery and gros point; and Miss Parker Who instructed the girls in physical exercises. Mathematics was taught by a man, James Fairley, who like the dancing, riding and music masters did live in-as Daisy thought it was quite unsuitable for men to live under the same roof as the girls. She was sure the parents would not like it.

"Not," commented Eileen, "that they could not get up to certain tricks without necessarily sleeping under the monastic roof. But it is the look of the thing that counts."

I found my fellow teachers all inclined to be pleasant and I was sure that I was going to get along very well with them.

It was the advent of the girls for which I was eagerly waiting.

On Monday they began to arrive-many on the morning train and others in the afternoon. The atmosphere of the place was immediately changed. The Abbey became a school. There were excited voices, reunion of friends, frenzied talk about what they had done during the holidays.

On Monday evening at seven o'clock they were all gathered for what Daisy called Assembly in the hall which had been the Lay Brothers' infirmary. I looked eagerly along the lines of faces. The eldest must have been eighteen; the youngest fourteen. I felt a little uneasy on account of my own youth rather than my inexperience. I wondered how many of those young women would feel about being instructed by someone not very much older than themselves.

However, I was determined to be dignified and maintain discipline at all costs, for I did know from my experience at Schaffenbrucken that once that slipped there could be trouble.

There was a dais at the end of the hall and on this sat Miss Hetherington with her staff ranged round her. She addressed the girls briefly, welcoming them back to what she hoped would be a productive term.

"We have to welcome a newcomer to our ranks.

Miss Grant. We are delighted to have her with us, and I am sure you will greatly profit from what she has to teach you. She herself has lately come from Schaffenbrucken in Switzerland of which you will all have heard."

I saw one girl whisper to another behind her hand and the other suppressed a giggle. The whisperer was a tall girl with sandy hair worn in a plait round her head. I sensed something aggressive about her, and I felt that if ever she came within my orbit I might be called upon to do battle with her.

"Now, girls," went on Daisy, "we shall all go to supper and afterwards you will retire quietly to your rooms. Many of you are in the same ones as last term, but there have been changes. You will see from the notice on the board. Dismiss now."

We ate together-the mistresses at one table, the girls at another. Miss Parker said grace and I learned that she was responsible for religious instruction.

After supper we went to our rooms. I was glad of this because I wanted to make the acquaintance of the girls who had been allotted to my care.

I noticed that the Verringer girls were not there and remembered that they were among those who were returning on Tuesday.

As I went into my room there was a hushed silence. I knew the girls were in their rooms listening and I thought it would be a good idea to visit them and have a little talk with each of them. I recalled what Daisy had told me about them. I knew Teresa Hurst of course and that she was sharing with Caroline Sangton. I didn't expect trouble from Teresa. She and I had become good friends since our first encounter and I was aware that she was already growing fond of me. She had told me a little about the girls in my section. Caroline Sangton, who shared with her, was the daughter of a city businessman and rather looked down on by the others led by Charlotte Mackay, because they had heard there was something derogatory about being in "trade". Caroline was a stolid girl apparently, who didn't much care what the others thought, and she and Teresa got along quite well together without actually becoming great friends.

Most of the girls were crazy about horses and waiting impatiently for riding times-especially Charlotte Mackay who was the best horse-woman of them all. Teresa did not say, but I guessed, that she herself was not so eager and was, in fact, a little scared of the horses.

I went first to Teresa who introduced me to Caroline with an air of pride because she already knew me. I was pleased to see how relaxed she was in my company. If all the girls were as easy to understand as Teresa, my task would present few difficulties.

"We're glad you've come, Miss Grant," said Caroline. "Teresa was telling me all about you, and my father is very pleased that we are going to have social training."

"I am sure you will profit from it, Caroline," I

 said in my best schoolteacher manner. "You'll keep your room tidy and there must not be talking after 'lights out'. I have explained that to Teresa." "Oh yes, Miss Grant."

"Well, good night, Caroline, and good night, Teresa. I am sure you are glad to have your roommate back."

"Yes thank you, Miss Grant," said Teresa smiling shyly at me.

I was sure I had an ally in Teresa.

The next visit was not quite so harmonious, and I was a little dismayed to find that the whisperer I had noticed was one of my girls-in fact she was the Honourable Charlotte Mackay, tall, rather gawky, though she might grow into gracefulness, sandy haired with a quantity of freckles and scanty eyebrows and lashes. Her companion was Patricia Cartwright, the banker's daughter. Patricia was small and dark and I guessed would not be a troublemaker on her own but might well respond to Charlotte Mackay's influence.

Neither of the girls was in bed. Patricia Cartwright was seated at the dressing-table brushing her hair;

Charlotte Mackay was sprawling on her bed fully dressed.

She did not rise when I entered, though Patricia stood up rather shame-facedly.

"Hello," I said. "Charlotte Mackay and Patricia Cartwright. I am looking in to see you all before we retire. I am sure we shall get along very well together if you keep your rooms tidy and remember that there must be no talking after `lights out'."

"Mademoiselle never complained," said Charlotte Mackay. So I gathered Mademoiselle Dupont had occupied my room last term.

"Then I am sure I shall have no need to either."

Charlotte and Patricia exchanged covert glances- a habit which irritated me as it implied a suggestion of conspiracy between them against me.

"Good night," I said firmly.

"Oh Miss er ..." began Charlotte.

I felt I should have told her to stand up when addressing me, but was unsure whether it would have been wise at this stage to insist on that. The last thing I must show was uncertainty, but I did not want to begin by declaring war on this girl whose manner betrayed a certain bellicose attitude towards authority.

"Yes, Charlotte?"

"Last term I shared with Eugenie Verringer." "Oh, I see. This term she is with her sister."

"We wanted to be together this term. We planned to be together."