“They spar a little.”

“It is all part of that relationship, that inability-to-live-without-each-other-ness. I am so happy that they came through safely and that he brought her home and they married. Moreover it has given my grandmother absolute contentment in her old age.”

He drew me to him.

“We shall be like that, Claudine, through the years.”

I clung to him and thought: He must never know. I would rather die than he should know.

He made tender love to me and there were tears on my cheeks.

“Claudine,” he asked, “what is it? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, David,” I said, “I love you. I do love you.”

He kissed me, and after he slept I lay awake staring into the darkness.

Why had I let it happen? How could I deceive this good man?

Boxing Day, so called because those who had served us during the year called at the big house for what they called their “box,” which was, in fact, a gift of money.

Dickon and my mother were seated in the hall while the ceremony was in progress, and a party of us went over to Enderby, as Millicent insisted that we had promised to show her the house.

There were myself, David, Millicent, Jonathan, Lord and Lady Pettigrew, and Gwen and John Farringdon with Harry. David had the key and when he opened the door and we went into the hall there were exclamations of amazement. It looked different by morning light. A little wintry sun shone through the windows and the place had lost something of that melancholy look; there was still an eeriness about it, though; that was something which could never completely disappear, I was sure.

Millicent said: “Is that the haunted gallery?”

“It is said to be so,” replied David.

“Something awful happened there, I daresay. I’m glad I’m not alone here. Then I should feel positively scared.”

“No need to,” replied Jonathan, smiling at her. “There’s a strong arm here ready to defend you from spectres with countless clanging chains and myriads of moaning ghosts.”

“Stay close to me,” commanded Millicent.

“No need to ask me that.”

It was ridiculous to feel hurt by his light bantering with Millicent, but I did.

David was saying: “What a change! That carpenter is very good. He’ll have the place in fair order within a few weeks, I’ll swear.”

“Aunt Sophie is very eager to move in,” I said.

“Poor soul,” murmured Gwen Farringdon. “Such an affliction! It has affected her deeply, hasn’t it?”

Lady Pettigrew said briskly: “A great misfortune. But such trials must be faced and she is fortunate to have escaped from those dreadful French peasants. I hope she is suitably grateful to you.” She beamed approval on Jonathan. “Now she can build a future for herself and it is a mercy this house is so near Eversleigh.”

It had always amazed me how people like Lady Pettigrew made so little of the misfortunes of those about them, and I could not help wondering whether she would be quite so dismissive of her own.

We mounted the stairs and went into the minstrels’ gallery. Now that the heavy red curtains had been taken down for cleaning and renovation it had lost much of that mysterious look.

Jonathan came up behind Millicent and said: “Boo!”

She jumped and turned round smiling at him. “You’re determined to scare me.”

“And I did,” he said. “Admit it.”

“Not with all these people about me.”

“Ah, but if they hadn’t been here…” He was laughing at her.

“You mean if I had been here alone with you! That’s not likely, is it?”

“Alas!” he said, with mock resignation.

I thought: That is how he is. That is how he is with me… and with every woman.

We went along the corridors and he opened the door of that room in which we had made such passionate love.

“Much of the furniture was already here, I believe,” said Gwen Farringdon.

“It went with the house,” David told her.

“What a gift! It will not need such a great deal more.”

“This is a nice room. I like this,” said Millicent. She went to the bed and sat down on it; then she lifted her feet and lay full length on it.

“It’s quite comfortable,” she said.

“I feel sure of that,” murmured Jonathan; he caught my eye and the corner of his mouth twitched a little.

I did not feel like sharing the joke. To me it was no joke. It was deadly serious.

We went over the house and found ourselves in the kitchens, which were vast and stone-floored.

There was one moment when Jonathan and I were alone; the others had gone through the screens and he and I stood a little way in the hall.

He caught my hand and said: “This afternoon.”

I shook my head.

He came closer and kissed me. I wanted to protest but I did not. It appalled me that he still had the power to charm me.

I was glad when the tour of the house was over and we came out into the fresh air.

We walked back across the fields and everyone was talking about Enderby, what a fascinating house it was, and how fortunate Sophie had been to have such a bargain fall into her hands.

“It is a pity all French émigrés are not so fortunate,” said Lady Pettigrew.

“She was so lucky to get away with her jewels,” said Millicent.

“And her life,” added Lord Pettigrew.

“She has Jonathan to thank for that,” David reminded them.

“How wonderful!” said Millicent, smiling at Jonathan.

“Oh it was simple,” he said lightly. “We went over and we came out with Mademoiselle Sophie and her maid and the clever creature had sewed the jewels in their garments and didn’t tell me until we were crossing the Channel.”

“It’s no use your trying to pretend it wasn’t marvellous,” said Millicent sternly. “You are really very brave.”

“I am a very perfect gentle knight,” said Jonathan. “I deserve all your adulation, and most gratefully accept it… and shall probably beg for more. It is a commodity I have a great fancy for. You cannot give me too much of it.”

Millicent slipped her arm through his. She was a little forward, I supposed, for the manners of our day, but her mother showed no sign of disapproving, which told me that the redoubtable Lady Pettigrew smiled on Jonathan as a future son-in-law.

I was restless and uncertain. I wanted to see Jonathan alone. I wanted to tell him that there must be no more love-making between us. I wanted to ask him what his feelings were for Millicent Pettigrew, and if that state of bantering flirtation which seemed to exist between them had any meaning behind it.

I had said I would not be at the rendezvous that afternoon but I was making excuses to myself. I wanted to talk to him, I kept assuring myself. I wanted to stress that our dangerous relationship must cease.

Or did I merely want to be with him? Did I know in my heart that once we were alone in that room, once he held me close to him, I would give way as I had before?

I watched them go off riding. I said I had certain things to do and could not join them. Jonathan waved to me as he rode off. His plan was to lose them as quickly as he could, return to the stables and leave his horse there, for it would be dangerous to tether it outside the house where it could be seen. It would not take him long to hurry across the fields.

In spite of having promised myself not to go, I set out.

I must talk to him, I must, I kept saying to myself.

That was my excuse.

I was a few minutes early. I hesitated at the door. My inclination was to wait outside, but that was foolish. What if someone passed by and saw me waiting there? Still, I hesitated. Was I afraid of an old house? To show myself that I was not, I took the key from my pocket, opened the door and went in, shutting it behind me. When he came, Jonathan would ring the bell. It was a little rusty, but it worked.

I advanced into the hall. Certainly it had changed and the minstrels’ gallery without its curtains looked quite ordinary. I could not imagine any ghosts hiding there now. It was all a matter of shadows and darkness. How right David had been about those overgrown shrubs. They had not been dealt with yet and Sophie had indicated that they would only be trimmed, so she would still retain some of the old house’s atmosphere.

I ran up the stairs to that room which I looked upon as ours.

I stood in it and thought of the first time. It had happened so swiftly that it had caught me unaware, and then once it had happened I was trapped; and it had been so easy, having made the first step, to go on.

How silent the house was!

Hurry, Jonathan, I thought.

Then I heard that voice… that whisper, preceded by a little laugh, and then: “Mrs. Frenshaw… remember the seventh commandment, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

I stood there stunned. For some seconds I could not move. I was straining my ears listening. There was no sound… nothing but that frightening silence.

I ran out of the room and as I reached the stairs the door bell was clanging through the house. I ran down and opened the door.

Jonathan was there. He caught me in his arms. “What’s wrong? What is it, Claudine?”

“I heard it again,” I said. “The voice…”

“Voice? Where?”

“In the room. Our room.”

“There’s no one here…”

“I heard it. I heard it distinctly.”

“Come on. We’ll have a look,” he said.

He put his arm round me and I clung to him. We ran up the stairs.

There was no one there.

He looked at me puzzled. “What was it like?”

“It was the way it was before… Echoing… Strangely muted.”

“You mean as if someone were trying to disguise the voice?”

“I don’t know. It laughed after it had said it. ‘Remember the seventh commandment.’”

“What nonsense!”

“But it’s apt, isn’t it? The voice… it knows.”

“My dear Claudine, I simply do not believe in disembodied voices.”

“I tell you I heard it… distinctly. Just as I heard it before.”

“Then there is someone here.”

“But how could it be… in that room?”

“Is that the only place where you have heard this voice?”

I nodded.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to look.”

We went into all the rooms, up to the next floor and the attics. Then we went down through the hall to the kitchens. It was as I guessed it would be—empty.

We were the only ones in the house.

“Where are you?” shouted Jonathan. “You of the idiot voice. Come out and show yourself.”

His voice gave back a faint echo. Then the house was quiet. Not a sound. I looked up at the vaulted ceiling, at the stone walls, at the gallery.

“There’s nobody here,” said Jonathan.

“It’s haunted,” I insisted. “It’s something horrible… something from the past.”

“You don’t believe that really. There must be some explanation, a logical one.”

“What?”

“Someone is here… was here… someone playing a trick.”

“Someone who knows—about us.”

He admitted solemnly: “Yes, someone who knows about us. Or,” he added, “you imagined you heard the voice.”

“I heard it distinctly.”

“You don’t take this lightly, do you?”

“Take it lightly! No, I do not. But you do, Jonathan. That’s what I am beginning to understand.”

“Claudine, you are the most important thing in the world to me.”

I shook my head.

“You are a very conventional lady,” he said. “Brought up in that formal society, eh? It has always amused me, the rigorous formality of the French and the exploits they indulge in… in secret, of course. However, they brought you up that way, and now your conscience worries you. I am beginning to think that it was that which you heard.”

“In other words, you believe I imagined I heard voices.”

“Perhaps you did, Claudine.”

“I did not.”

“Then who? We’ve been round the house. No one is here but us. Who could have got in? You let yourself in with the key and shut the door. Is there any other key?”

I said suddenly: “The window. Of course. David and I looked round once. I told you about it. And we came through a window.”

“Where?”

“It was somewhere in the hall.” I crossed the stone floor with speed.

I said: “This is it. Look! The latch is broken. Anyone who knew could get in through it. It’s simple.”

He stood looking at me in dismay.

“So you think someone was in the house when you came in. But how could that person talk to you in that room? You would have heard whoever it was running down the stairs and out through the window wouldn’t you?”