There was no excuse for me. I was wanton. I had deliberately deceived my husband.

Jonathan felt no such guilt, although he was betraying his own brother. He said fatalistically: “It had to happen. It was meant.”

Afterwards I felt angry—mainly with myself. I was aghast at my own behaviour. I suffered anguish when I was with David, who was so kind always. I felt irritated with him merely because of his kindness, for his goodness only accentuated my depravity.

I wished that I could confide in my mother. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to know why I—who previously had always had a sense of honour, a sense of duty—could behave so.

We must get away, I decided. Jonathan must go away. We could not continue to live like this under the same roof.

As we walked back to the house Jonathan said: “Tomorrow?”

“No,” I cried. “It must never happen again.”

But he only smiled at me, and I knew as well as he did that it would.

I was shocked, too, to find that I did not have such difficulty in behaving normally as I had done on the first occasion. I did not go to bed pleading a headache. I went down to dinner and we all sat round the table, talking, laughing, making Christmas plans—myself as merry as any of them outwardly, and it was only when I glanced across the table and caught Jonathan’s blue eyes on me, and I looked sideways at David, that the terrible sense of remorse overcame me.

The Pettigrews arrived the day before Christmas Eve. Their carriage was very grand with the Pettigrew crest prominently engraved on it and Lady Pettigrew at least was eager that everyone should be aware of their importance. Lord Pettigrew was much quieter than his wife. No one would have believed that all her glory came through him. He held a post at Court which I imagined was so arduous that when he was in the heart of his family he was ready to agree to anything for the sake of peace.

The Honourable Millicent was a handsome young woman who looked as if she had a will of her own, and I imagined that she and her mother were a formidable pair who managed to get what they wanted.

It became obvious that what they wanted was Jonathan as a prospective husband for Millicent. I was acutely aware of anything connected with Jonathan and now suffered twinges of jealousy. Jonathan would be a match which would be highly approved of by Lady Pettigrew. Dickon was not only an extremely wealthy man but an influential one. Yes, I could see that Lady Pettigrew and Millicent had selected Jonathan for his role.

I mentioned it to my mother. She laughed and said: “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me. I think Dickon would be quite pleased. He’s very friendly with Lord Pettigrew. They have a great deal in common… in the City. Mind you, Lady Pettigrew is rather a forceful lady and I am not sure that Millicent doesn’t take after her. But I think Jonathan would be able to handle that. Is anything wrong?”

“No… What makes you think so?”

“I thought you looked a little depressed. Not tired are you?”

She was looking at me anxiously and the colour flooded my face. She thinks I might be pregnant! I told myself. Then suddenly the thought of what this could mean if I were swept over me.

“It’s all right,” I said firmly. “I’m perfectly normal.”

She patted my arm lightly. “Well, Christmas comes but once a year, and sometimes I’m heartily glad of that.”

Each day I was realizing more and more what a web I was being caught up in. My jealousy of Millicent, my sudden fear that I might have a child and should have to ask myself whose, brought home to me ever more strongly the seriousness of my predicament.

It must stop. I must never, never give way to my emotions again. I would get over this obsession. I would be a good wife to David and I would attempt to wipe this sordid incident right out of my mind.

The next day the Farringdons came. They were very charming people—Gwendoline, John and their son, Harry. Harry was in his mid-twenties, very good-looking. He helped his father run their estate, which I learned was the same size as Eversleigh.

In the early afternoon of Christmas Eve a party of the younger people went for a ride. There was David, Jonathan, Harry Farringdon, Millicent Pettigrew and myself. I rode between David and Harry while Jonathan with Millicent went ahead. I found myself watching them intently. You must stop this, I admonished myself. It only makes you wretched. You are risking everything that is worthwhile for the sake of a few sensational moments. I glanced at David. He looked contented and was talking of the estate with Harry—comparing Eversleigh with Farringdon.

We had the mist back again—it was damp and warm for the time of the year and clearly we should not have snow for Christmas. A wintry sun was trying to break through the clouds.

“‘If the sun shines through your apple trees on Christmas Day,’” quoted David. “‘When autumn comes they will a load of fruit display.’”

“Let’s hope it shines through the apple trees then,” I said.

“I like those old rhymes,” commented Harry. “And they are very often right.”

“They should be since they are culled from the wisdom of men who have watched weather for ages,” replied David.

“I suppose you had them in France,” Harry asked me.

“I suppose so, but I don’t remember hearing any.”

Jonathan had turned. “Why are you lagging behind?” he asked. His eyes met mine, dancing with mischief, and all my resolutions began to crumble away.

“We were talking about the weather and old rhymes,” I told him.

“‘If New Year’s night-wind blows south,’” said Harry, “‘It betokens warmth and growth.’”

“I can’t wait for New Year’s night,” said Jonathan.

“‘If west, much milk and fish in sea,’” went on Harry, unperturbed. “‘If north, cold and storms will be. If north-east, flee it, man and brute.’”

“Very pretty,” said Jonathan.

“And very probably true,” added David.

“Truth and beauty—what a combination!” said Jonathan. “But why all this preoccupation with the weather?”

“If you worked on the land you would be preoccupied with it,” David retorted.

“I bow to your superior wisdom. At least we are not having one of those romantic snowy Christmases. I can never understand why people set such store by them.”

“It’s rather exciting not knowing whether you are going to arrive or not,” said Millicent.

“Travelling is always such fun,” added Jonathan. “It is getting there that does not always live up to expectations.”

“Well, I am determined that getting here is going to live up to my expectations,” declared Millicent.

“Then rest assured that it will be a happy Christmas, for my Lady Millicent must always be obeyed,” said Jonathan.

“It amuses you to laugh at me,” said Millicent.

“There is little I like better than being amused.”

“Come on,” cried Millicent. “Which way?”

“Straight ahead,” I said. “We’ll pass my aunt Sophie’s new house on the way.”

“Oh, I should love to see it.”

“We haven’t the key,” I said quickly.

“Well, from outside. Perhaps while we are staying at Eversleigh we could go and see it.”

“I am sure you could,” said Jonathan.

Millicent rode on and we all followed.

There it was. The house which had become so important to me, a kind of symbol of sin.

“It looks exciting, but a little grim,” commented Millicent.

“I think it a very interesting house,” Jonathan told her. He looked at me, smiling. “You like it, don’t you, Claudine?”

“I admit it is a most unusual house.”

“It looks as if it is in need of repairs,” put in Harry, casting a businesslike look over it.

“You are right up to a point,” said David. “But it is amazing what a solid old place it is. A little bit of rot here and there… just a sign or two of decay. It’s amazing considering how long it has been empty.”

“Strange that it should stand empty for so long,” said Harry.

“Oh, it has a bit of a reputation.”

“Ghosts?” cried Millicent. “Noises in the night? How very thrilling!”

I thought: And voices in a room on the first floor, a room which would be in my memory for ever.

“Well, there it is,” said David. “We’ll get the key before you leave, Millicent, and you shall have a real tour.”

I was glad when we rode off.

As we were coming past Grasslands, Evie and her sister were riding in. We pulled up.

“Hello, Evie,” I said. “This is Miss Evie Mather and her sister Dorothy. Evie and Dolly, you haven’t met the Honourable Millicent Pettigrew and Mr. Harry Farringdon.”

Both Harry and Millicent were, I think, a little taken aback by the sight of the sisters. I suppose it was the contrast they made, Dolly’s deformity calling attention to Evie’s good looks.

“Were you going for a ride?” I asked. “It’s just the afternoon for it.”

“We were just returning, as a matter of fact,” said Evie.

“Well, it will be dark soon.”

“Would you like to come in and have a glass of something?”

“It’s getting late,” I replied. “We want to be back before dark.”

“And there are so many of us,” added David.

Harry was looking at Evie. He said: “I’d like to… We need not stay long.”

“I have to get back,” said Millicent.

“All right,” put in Jonathan. “You three stay and I’ll take Millie back.”

Again that sick jealousy! I was annoyed. I hated the thought of leaving Millicent with Jonathan and going into Grasslands, but there seemed no way out.

“Au revoir!” called Jonathan gaily.

Millicent was smiling, well pleased. Glad to be rid of us, I was sure; and the rest of us dismounted and went into the house.

Evalina Trent came into the hall to greet us.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.”

I introduced Harry and Mrs. Trent almost fawned upon him.

“Oh yes… what a nice surprise,” she repeated. “Come along in. We’ll all wish each other a merry Christmas.”

So we sat in the little intimate parlour which led from the hall and we drank the wine while we chatted amiably about nothing. Harry had seated himself next to Evie and was talking animatedly to her. Mrs. Trent’s eyes scarcely left them. She was very impressed by Harry.

“I know of Farringdon Hall,” she said. “A fine old place. I said to myself when I rode by in the carriage… that was when my son Richard was alive… I said, ‘Richard, that’s a fine place, that is, and one of the best estates roundabouts.’”

Harry said he thought so too but perhaps he was prejudiced.

“Oh, you don’t have to be. You’ve got it all… You and your father before you, and his father before him have made the place what it is. We do our best here at Grasslands, but my husband died…” She sighed. “That was my second… My first… Andrew… God bless him… passed away years ago.”

I glanced at David, suggesting with my look that we curtail this visit as quickly as we could. I was faintly irritated with Harry for forcing it on us, and I was wondering all the time what Jonathan was saying to Millicent on their way back.

Harry was still talking attentively to Evie. I heard him say: “Shall you be at Eversleigh tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, we’re invited.”

“I’m glad,” said Harry. “So glad.”

At last we were able to escape. I gasped with relief as we came out to the road. Mrs. Trent, with a grand-daughter on either side of her, had waved us goodbye, or au revoir as she insisted on saying.

It was Harry who had excited her. His interest in Evie had been blatant.

When I was alone with David in our bedroom, I commented on it.

“I think Mrs. Trent is getting ideas. Of course Harry is a very good match. I am sure she is already making plans to bring Evie and him together.”

“You can’t blame her. She’s got those two girls and I should imagine there is not a great deal she can do for them at Grasslands.”

“I have an idea that Evalina Trent will always try to get the best of all that comes her way.”

“Well, my love, isn’t that what we all try to do?”

“David,” I said, “you are a very nice man.”

“Oh, have you just discovered it?”

“I’ve always known it, but sometimes it strikes me more forcibly than others. You always see the best in people. I don’t believe you would see evil if it were right under your nose.”

“I expect I’d smell it out,” he said.

I threw myself at him and held him tightly. I was saying to myself: I must never hurt him. I must never again be alone with Jonathan… David must never know… It would hurt him too much.