Philippa Carr - Voices in a Haunted Room

“No… It was a French remedy. However, the mare is better now.”

“When you came, you didn’t see him, did you?”

“No. They told me he had gone out.”

“I heard Billy Grafter is missing too,” said Jeanne. “He must be with Alberic.”

How quickly news travelled in the servants’ world. They already knew that Billy Grafter had disappeared—and it was only natural that they should connect it with that of Alberic.

“I thought you might have seen him,” said Aunt Sophie.

“No, he had already gone.”

“It’s not like him,” said Aunt Sophie.

“He’ll be back,” Jeanne assured her. “He has too good a post here to want to leave Enderby.”

“I shall scold him, when he comes,” said Sophie. “He should have let me know he was going back.”

I kissed her cheek and said that I would come again soon to see her.

“Yes, do,” she said.

Jeanne walked down the stairs with me.

“She misses him,” she said. “He could always cheer her up. He has that merry nature and she loves talking to him. Fortunately Dolly is here. She teaches her French, you know. The girl does quite well. She surprises me. She’s quite intelligent although it is not always apparent. I just hope Alberic comes back soon. I shall give him a piece of my mind. He has no right to stay away like this.”

“It is strange,” I said, “that she should be so taken by a young servant. He hasn’t been here so very long.”

“She always took fancies. I was so glad that there was someone at last in whom she could take an interest. He responded to her, being of our nationality. He seemed to know just how to behave towards her. She took to him from the start.”

I said goodbye to Jeanne and came away very sad. I seemed to have caught Aunt Sophie’s melancholy. Poor Aunt Sophie! She would never see Alberic again.

THE NEXT DAY DAVID came home from Clavering.

He was delighted to see me and I was filled with great tenderness towards him. I felt that having been so happy on the day of the royal wedding, I had been unfaithful to him. I wanted to make up to him because I was so fascinated by Jonathan.

It seemed to me that there was another barrier between us: the secret of Alberic’s death, which I could not stop myself thinking of as Alberic’s murder.

It was not as difficult to keep my secrets as I had imagined it would be. I seemed to have become adept at deception. But perhaps David was not as perceptive as his brother. I was sure I should never have been able to hide so much of myself from Jonathan.

I told him about the wedding and what my mother had told me about the ceremony. He said that the current rumour was that the Prince had been so intoxicated that he had spent the greater part of his wedding night lying in the fireplace of the bedchamber, whither he had fallen in a drunken stupor—and his bride had been content for him to stay there.

“It grows worse and worse,” I said. “We heard that he was about to refuse to go on with the ceremony and that he had to be persuaded to by his father.”

“How much truth is there in these stories?” he asked.

“My mother and your father seemed to have the impression that there was something in them.”

“And you? Were you disappointed to have no royal invitation?”

“Oh no. Jonathan and I went out riding. My mother insisted that he accompany me. They didn’t want me to go out alone on such a day.”

“I should think not. There would be rogues everywhere.”

“Yes. And we went to an inn called the Dog and Whistle near Greenwich, and there the host served us with the most excellent roast beef.”

“So it was a pleasant visit was it?”

“Oh yes.”

“And Jonathan immediately returned to London.”

“Yes. My mother does not know how long she will be there, and they wanted to bring me back so that I should be here when you returned.”

“Thoughtful of them.” He kissed me tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much… you and Amaryllis.”

I loved him, tenderly, dearly, steadfastly. So it is possible, I told myself, to love two people at the same time in different ways. To be with David was like taking a draught of crystal-clear water when one was thirsty. By the same analogy Jonathan was a sparkling intoxicating wine.

Was there something strange about me? If I looked right into my mind I had to admit that I wanted them both.

They were brothers… twin brothers. Could there be some explanation there? It was hard to imagine them as one person. They were so entirely different. And yet… I wanted them both.

“Well, we shall be having the wedding soon,” said David. “I daresay there’s a great deal of activity at the Pettigrews’ place.”

We talked about Amaryllis.

I spent a great deal of time in the nursery with her. The little girls were growing fast; they looked different every day. In the nursery I could have forgotten Jonathan if every time I looked at Amaryllis I did not have to think of him.

The day after David’s return a storm blew up. The wind howled at gale force and the rain beat horizontally on the windows. Nobody went out that day because it was almost impossible to stand up in the wind.

The next morning when we awoke it was quite calm. The birds were singing with joy and those flowers which had not been battened down looked fresh and beautiful; damp dripped from the trees, but when the sun rose they would be dried out.

It was a beautiful morning.

I said I would ride round the estate with David and he was delighted that I should join him. There was so much to catch up with, he said, after his being away at Clavering.

Just as we were about to leave, a messenger came from Jeanne. Would we please come over at once?

“Oh dear,” I said to David. “It’s going to spoil the morning. I wonder what it is now? Ride over with me. We need not stay long.”

I was trembling because I feared it might have something to do with Alberic, and if it were I should need David’s support.

We were met by a white-faced Jeanne. She came running out of the house and must have been watching for us.

“Oh Mrs. Frenshaw, Mr. Frenshaw, I am so glad you have come. A terrible thing has happened.”

“What?” I cried.

“It’s Alberic. They’ve found him.”

“Found him!” cried David. “Where has he been all this time?”

“He’s dead, Mr. Frenshaw. His body was washed up by the sea.”

“Drowned!”

Jeanne dropped her head and was silent for a few moments. I was trembling, wondering what was coming next.

“All this time,” murmured Jeanne, “and we were wondering where he was.”

“Drowned?” repeated David.

“Murdered,” Jeanne corrected him. “They said he’s been shot through the lungs. I don’t know what will happen now.”

“But who…” began David. “Just a minute. This is such a shock. I think my wife does not feel very well.”

He lifted me from my horse and kept his arm about me.

“It’s such a shock,” he said.

“Come into the house,” said Jeanne.

“Yes, I think we’d better, darling,” said David.

I sat in the cool hall and the faintness passed. So they would know now. What would they do? What would be the verdict as to what had happened to Alberic?

There was no talk of anything but Alberic’s death. It was impossible to escape from it. Rumour was rife. Who had killed Alberic? Poor innocent Alberic, who had done nothing wrong but to take out a boat for a little pleasure trip.

His friend Billy Grafter must have been with him, they said, since Billy had disappeared at the time Alberic came back from London.

There was an inquest. There was no doubt that Alberic had been shot at, although he had died by drowning. The verdict was murder against some person or persons unknown.

It was terrible to have to live with such a secret. I had nightmares and would awake crying in the night. David would hold me close to him soothingly and I wanted to be beside him, thankful for his presence.

In the morning I would try to reason with myself. Jonathan was right. The times were dangerous. I must remember what had happened to my mother and my grandmother, Zipporah. I could picture the latter going into the little town to shop in her splendid carriage with the d’Aubigné crest emblazoned on it, and coming out to the mob. Alberic’s death was a judicial killing. One should not look on it in a different light. It was logical. It was the law of survival.

During the day I could believe that. It was at night when the hideous dreams came.

Jonathan had come back to Eversleigh for the inquest.

I did not attend, but immediately it was over he sought an opportunity to be alone with me.

I said: “They will search for the one who killed him. Jonathan, what if—?”

He shook his head and smiled at me rather sardonically.

“They will talk of an enquiry. They will make a show of having one. But I can assure you that nothing will be revealed. That has been taken care of. It is for the country’s security, and that is understood in certain quarters.”

“It is all so… subversive.”

He laughed. “What did you expect? It is the very nature of the matter. How are you feeling now? You’ve not told anybody?”

I shook my head firmly.

“Not even David? He’d understand, of course. He’s always logical. But there is no point in people’s knowing when it is not necessary. I’m only sorry you had to see it.”

“What of Billy Grafter?” I asked.

“He got away. Never mind. We know what he looks like. He might provide a useful lead. And we know Léon Blanchard is—or has been—in London. I shall shortly be going to London again and when I come back I daresay Dickon and your mother will come with me.”

I put my hand to my head and said wearily: “I wish it would all end.”

“Poor Claudine! Life is very complicated, is it not?”

“I want mine to be simple… peaceful.”

“Oh come, you are too young for peace.” Then he kissed me briefly. “Au revoir, my love,” he said.

I was glad when he went. He added to my disturbed state of mind.

I went to see Aunt Sophie.

Jeanne greeted me. “She is in bed. She’s been poorly. This has upset her more than I would have believed possible.”

She certainly looked wan lying in her bed with the blue curtains drawn back.

“Oh, Claudine…” she said.

“Dear Aunt Sophie, you have been unwell, Jeanne tells me.”

“This is a house of mourning, Claudine,” she answered. Her fingers picked restlessly at the sheets. “Why is life always like this to me? Why is it that when I have a fondness for someone something like this happens?”

“There is always tragedy around us, Aunt Sophie.”

“For me, certainly,” she said.

“I’m sorry…”

“That poor boy, that poor innocent boy…”

Ah, Aunt Sophie, I thought, not so innocent. It is amazing how little we know of those with whom we live closely.

“What did he do? He only took out a boat… for a pleasure trip… and some wicked villain shot him. Can you understand it?” she demanded. “It doesn’t make sense,” she went on piteously.

“It is difficult to understand, Aunt Sophie. Why was he in the boat, do you think? Hadn’t he just returned from London? You thought he had gone back because he had forgotten something. But why should he have taken that moment to go out in the boat?”

“A whim,” she said. “People do have whims. His horse, Prince—how he loved to ride Prince!—found his way back to the stables. He must have ridden down on Prince to get to the sea.”

“Did you know he had a boat?”

“No. He never said. He and Billy Grafter must have acquired it between them. Poor boys… poor innocent boys.”

I said: “It seems rather odd that they should both have decided to go out then.”

But Aunt Sophie was not interested in why they had gone. All she cared about was her grief. I should not talk either. I should not set people speculating. Let it be thought that the young man, having been in London, was so eager for a breath of fresh air that he could not wait to take his boat out.

Aunt Sophie said: “Murdered! Cut off in the prime of his youth. He was a beautiful boy, bright and merry. It made me happy just to have him here.”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Sophie.”

“You, my child, what do you know of loneliness? You have your husband, your dear child… You are fortunate, whereas I…”

“But, Aunt Sophie, we’re here. We’re your family. My mother…”