"Yes," I went on, "her earring. I knew it was hers. It was the one she dropped in your stables so I had seen it before. You might remember the occasion."

He nodded. "Why ... should her earring have been there?"

"Because she was."

"Where is the earring?"

"In the ponds. The girl who found it was Teresa Hurst. She showed it to me and she threw it into the water."

"Why did she do that?"

"Because she was afraid ... for me. She thought that you and I ... Well, she had not a very good opinion of you, you see, and she warned me about you..."

He laughed. "What a tangled web. I like Teresa. I should not like my enemies, of course, but she is a good girl and a smart one. I like her for her devotion to you."

"Perhaps you understand why I do not want to have anything more to do with you than I have to through school business. When and if we meet, please do not attempt to single me out for attention. You owe me that."

He continued to look aghast. He said: "I must tell you that I sent Miranda away because, after the scene between us, I guessed Marcia was planning something. I thought she would go to London. She couldn't take Mrs. Gittings with her to London. I knew that something had to be dope about the child."

I turned away. He had been shocked by my revelation about the earring, I could see.

When I galloped away he did not follow me.

At school there was talk of nothing but the pageant. Time was getting short, said Daisy. She had definitely decided on Midsummer's Eve. The evenings would be light. By great good fortune the moon would be full and she wanted to see what preparations we had made.

I had decided that we should have a commentary which should be read by three or four of the senior girls and, where it was possible, we should introduce little sketches. I would write these from the records beginning with the arrival of the emissary from Clairvaux with commands from St Bernard to choose a place far removed from towns and habitation and build an abbey.

We should have girls dressed as monks chanting as they walked through the ruins; and the commentary would explain how they worked at various tasks. Then we would come to the Dissolution and disaster.

The second part would be the Elizabethan age when the country was prospering and the Hall was built, using some of the stones from the Abbey ruins, and the Lay Brothers' Dorter restored. There would be girls in Tudor costumes singing madrigals and dancing.

The third act would be the present day with the girls showing what they did at school, singing, dancing, physical exercises, and ending with the singing of the school song.

Daisy thought it was an excellent plan and I must say that I quickly became caught up in it. It was the best possible way of taking my mind from all the doubts and fears which I had tried so hard to dispel and could not.

Daisy came into the calefactory where we were assembled, looking very pleased.

"There is to be a house party at the Hall," she said. "There always used to be at this time of the year-although it hasn't happened for some time. There was little entertaining when Lady Verringer was so Well, a year has passed since that sad event and now that Mrs. Martindale has left, perhaps we can come back to normal. I have decided to invite the guests for the pageant. Parents like to hear of that sort of thing. There is to be a musical evening there. Some famous pianist or violinist will come, just like the old days. Sir Jason has extended invitations to the whole teaching staff, which I have accepted on your behalf. That will be the evening after the pageant. Naturally the whole school could not go, but Fiona and Eugenie will be there and they may take a few guests-their special friends ... two or three each, Sir Jason and I decided. I think it will be a most interesting evening."

I was ashamed of feeling exhilarated by the prospect, but I was.

Preparations went on. The costumes were examined and constantly commented on. There was a great deal of giggling as the girls dashed about in their white Cistercian robes. They were most effective on the tallest girls.

Fiona and Charlotte were to be in the chorus of the monks. They both had good singing voices. Mr. Crowe wanted them to sing in the madrigals too, but Daisy said that all the girls must be given a chance to do something. "We do not want certain girls taking all the kudos. If the performance were repeated at the end of term, parents want to see their children ... so a part for everyone please."

We rehearsed the Abbey scenes out of doors and it was very moving to perform among the ruins. Perhaps I was in love with words but when I heard Gwendoline Grey read her lines-she had a beautiful voice-I was deeply touched and I was sure the pageant was going to be a great success.

Mr. Crowe was very excited about the singing, and I constantly heard the sound of voices trilling in the music room. Rehearsals were continuous and everyone was waiting for the day.

The weather was perfect, and although we had some three weeks before the performance, girls were already watching the skies anxiously and forecasting the weather. As if it could not change in half an hour! However it was all part of the general excitement.

It was in the first week in June that we had a shock. During the break for riding Miss Barston had been the only one available to go with the girls and they had set off about two o'clock in the afternoon and would be expected back at four for tea.

At four o'clock they had not returned. The girls were so absorbed in their own affairs-mainly concerning the pageant-and the rest of us were too, that we did not notice they were missing until one of the juniors asked where Miss Barston was as she had to report to her immediately after tea.

"And where are Fiona and Charlotte?" asked Mr. Crowe. "I want to take the girls through the monks' chorus."

We then discovered that the riding party was not yet back.

It was then half past four.

Then Miss Barston came bursting into the hall. She was very agitated and several of the girls were with her.

I said: "What has happened?"

She said, "We've lost the Verringer girls and Charlotte Mackay."

"Lost them?"

"We suddenly discovered they weren't with us." "Do you mean ... they just disappeared?"

"I don't know whether anyone knows where they are. They won't say."

Discipline had never been one of Miss Barston's strong points, so I said: "Someone must have seen them. Did any of you girls?"

"No, Miss Grant," was the chorus.

I did not think they were all speaking the truth.

"If these girls have deliberately gone off, they should be punished," I said. "They know very well they are not allowed to leave the party. Are you sure nobody saw them go?"

There was still no answer. It was, of course, a point of honour not to tell tales; and I was sure this was one of the occasions when that code was being put into practice.

I said: "The three of them are together. They'll come to no harm."

"I think perhaps I should report this to Miss Hetherington," said Miss Barston.

Daisy however could not be found and the girls were not reported. It must have been five o'clock when they came riding in.

I went out to the stables with Miss Barston. "Girls ... girls ..." she said hysterically. "Where have you been?"

It was Charlotte who spoke. "We went into the woods. We wanted to see if there were any bluebells still."

"You had no right to leave the party," I said. "No, Miss Grant," said Charlotte insolently. "Yet you did," I retorted.

"We were anxious to see the bluebells and forgot the time," said Fiona apologetically.

I noticed something different about her. She looked flushed. She was one of the prettiest girls in the school but now she looked beautiful, and not in the least contrite, which was strange because she was a girl who, if left to herself, would have been peace-loving.

"It was very wrong of you," said Miss Barston. "It was inconsiderate and unkind," I added. I turned away. It was Miss Barston's affair and I did not want to appear to be taking over.

I don't think Miss Barston reported the incident to Miss Hetherington, for I heard no more about it: and forgot it until it took on a special significance.


The great day arrived. We had had a hot dry spell for a week and it looked as though it would be with us for a few days longer. It was exactly what we needed and hopes were high. Rehearsals were over and all the performers should know by now what they had to do. There was an air of intense excitement everywhere. Miss Barston was putting last minute stitches to gowns. We had had some Elizabethan costumes sent over from the Hall where they had a small collection and it was a matter of finding girls to fit them. Miss Barston, however, ran up costumes of her own and they were quite effective.

During the morning we set up the seating arrangements. Fortunately the ruins made a natural stage for there was a big open space in front of the nave, making a sort of grassy quadrangle; with the Lay Brothers' Frater and Dorter at right angles to the nave, and the open space being bordered by the guest houses and the infirmary on one side and the stables on the other, completing the square.

From this vantage point there was a superb view of the ruined church, the Norman central tower and the north transept; it was possible to see, over the walls of the outer ward, the open country with the fish ponds and the river.

Jason came over in the morning. I was counting the seats which had been put out when he came from the stables where he had left his horse. "Cordelia!" he said. "What luck!"

I wanted to walk away and leave him, but we were in a very exposed spot and I did not know who was watching. I must try to behave as I would if there had never been anything between us more than casual acquaintanceship.

"I suppose, Sir Jason, you have come to see Miss Hetherington about the arrangements for tonight."

"When I come here, it is to see you."

"I understand you are bringing guests over tonight. We should like to know how many."

"I shall be looking for you, and I have been full of expectation ever since dear Daisy invited me and my guests."

"Parents with children approaching school age will be particularly welcome."

"There are a few and I shall do my best to bring good business to Daisy tonight. Most of all I shall hope to be with you."

"I have to be there naturally but -"

"There could be opportunities. Wouldn't it be dramatic to declare our intentions tonight? How about my standing there among all the monks and telling them that the school and Hall will be united more than ever because their own Miss Grant is to become my wife."

"Dramatic indeed! Also ridiculously absurd. I will say good morning to you. I have a great deal of work to do, and here is Miss Hetherington. She must have seen your arrival. Miss Hetherington, Sir Jason has come to make sure we can accommodate ail the guests he is bringing tonight."

"We certainly shall," said Daisy warmly. "Isn't it a perfect day? And a full moon tonight. I wish we didn't have to start so late. I don't like the younger girls to stay up long past their normal bedtime."

"Once won't hurt them," said Sir Jason.

"No, I suppose not. Is everything in order, Miss Grant?"

"I think so. At the rehearsal yesterday there were one or two hitches."

"Always the case in the most professional shows," said Jason. "A smooth dress rehearsal is said to be a bad first night."

Daisy gave a little laugh. "This is hardly to be compared with professional shows, Sir Jason. But I do hope we shall amuse your guests and it will be an unusual way for them to pass an evening."

"They will thoroughly enjoy it."

"And tomorrow you have your pianist from London."

"Yes, Serge Polenski is going to perform for us, and I hope you and ail your mistresses will join us. There will be a buffet supper after ... and dancing."

"I know they will most joyfully accept your invitation. One or two will have to stay behind, of course, because of the girls. I remember these occasions in the old days. There was usually some famous musician brought down to entertain the company."

"A tradition from the days when we had the fiddlers playing in the minstrels' gallery."

"Yes. The Verringers were always patrons of music."