Philippa Carr - Voices in a Haunted Room

“I can see I do not need such a gift. I believe I am irresistible just as I am.”

“Are you?”

“Almost,” he replied. “I have no rivals except dull Duty, who is a formidable one, I agree, where a certain would-be virtuous lady is concerned.”

“I wish you would be serious.”

“I have to be…. most of the time. Let me dally for a while. At this moment I should be on my way back to the house. I should be changing into presentable garments. I am sure those we are wearing are ruined. I have work to do. You don’t realize, Claudine, how desperately I long to be with you, for when I am, I forget that I should be hot on the trail of our enemies. You are the seductress.”

“No,” I said, “it is you who are the seducer.”

“Claudine, listen to me. Just one thing before we go. Here we are in our natural state, you might say. Will you answer me one question truthfully?”

I nodded.

“Do you love me?”

I hesitated before I said: “I don’t know.”

“You like to be with me?”

“You know I do.”

“It is more exciting than anything else?”

I was silent.

He said as though to himself: “Construe silence as an affirmative.” Then he went on: “Do you ever think of those hours we spent together?”

“I try to forget.”

“Knowing in your heart that wrong as you might have thought them, you would not have missed them.”

“I’ve had enough of this catechism.”

“You have answered all my questions. Claudine, what are we going to do? Are we going on like this all our lives… seeing each other fairly frequently, finding that this love between us is growing, that it is never going to fade? Do you really believe that all our lives we are going on denying ourselves…”

I stood up. “I shall go and put on my dry things now. We must go back.”

I ran out of the parlour and up to the room. I was trembling as I put on my clothes. They were stained with mud and smelt none too savoury, but at least they were dry. My hair was still damp about my shoulders.

I went downstairs. Jonathan was dressed and waiting for me. Jimmy Borrows had offered his gig to take us back to Albemarle Street. We should look rather odd arriving at the house in that, but it was quicker than trying to find some other conveyance.

As we came into the house, Millicent appeared. She stared at us.

“Hello, my love,” said Jonathan. “You are astounded by the spectacle, are you not?”

“Whatever happened?”

“A spill on the river.”

“Did you go on a boat then?”

“We were not walking on the water.”

“What on earth were you doing?”

“Rowing… and some idiot ran into us.”

“I thought you were going out on business.”

“It was business, and we took a boat. Well, here we are and I want to get into some clean clothes. I have to go out immediately.”

I went up to my room and changed everything. I was sitting at my dressing table combing my hair when there was a knock on my door and Millicent came in. Her eyes were wide and suspicious, I thought.

She said: “It must have been quite a shock.”

“It was.”

“You might have been drowned.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. There were lots of boats on the river.”

“I did not know that you had gone out with Jonathan.”

“It was decided right at the last minute. I was here and he thought I might like to go out… and as David wasn’t here and you were resting…”

She nodded. “Your clothes will be ruined,” she said.

“I daresay.”

She shrugged her shoulders and went out.

I felt very uneasy. She is aware of something, I thought, and she is suspicious.

Jonathan went out and was away all that day. When David came back I told him of our adventure.

“I thought you weren’t going out today, as you had so much to do in the house,” he said.

“I meant to get ready for our departure, but as it was a special sort of day… Guy Fawkes and all that… I thought it would be silly not to see something of the fun, and as Jonathan was going out he said he would take me along with him.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“The guys and everything, yes. The ducking, well, that was less pleasant.”

“I should have thought Jonathan could have managed a boat better than that.”

“Oh, it was an idiot in another boat. He went straight into us.”

“Well, you are none the worse, I hope.”

“No. Fortunately, the inn was close by and we were able to dry off there. The host and hostess were very helpful. We are going home tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“I think we could. You’re missing Amaryllis.”

I admitted that I was.

“I too,” he said.

I thought how much easier he was to deceive than Millicent.

I was very much aware of her. She seemed to be watching me. Night came and from the windows I looked out on the night sky which was red from the light of the bonfires which were burning all over London.

“It looks,” I said to David, “as though London is on fire.”

THE NEXT DAY WE WENT back to Eversleigh—all except Jonathan, who said he had business to keep him in London. Millicent came with us. Jonathan would be away for the greater part of the days and she did not wish to be alone; and in any case, Jonathan said he would be back at Eversleigh in less than a week, so it was a good idea that Millicent should travel with us.

All was well at home. My mother was delighted by our return, particularly as Dickon was on one of his rare visits to Clavering. She had not gone with him because she did not want to leave Jessica, who had a slight cold. Amaryllis was more beautiful than ever and as she was now very much aware of what was going on and expressed a certain delight in seeing me, I was very happy.

The days passed in pleasant domesticity; on the third day I accompanied David on the rounds of the estate. As usual we were taken into the kitchens when we visited the farms, and the farmers’ wives always insisted on our tasting their homemade wines.

We were at the Penns’ farm that day with Jenny Penn, a big buxom woman, who took a great delight in her kitchen and all that she produced in it. But there was one thing she liked better than her food and that was a gossip.

David used to say that we could catch up on what was happening on the estate from Jenny for she knew everything that was going on, not only on the land her husband farmed but all the others too.

“Now what do you think of this brew, sir?” she said to David. “And you, Mrs. Frenshaw. I’ve got a feeling that it is better than the last. A bit too sweet that. I always say to my Len, ‘Wine wants a bit of a tang to it!’ That’s what I say. Too much sweetness can kill a wine.”

We both agreed that it was a perfect vintage, which pleased her; and it was just as we were about to leave that she said: “And what do you think of our ghost? If you was to ask me I’d say it was a lot of fancy.” She put her hands on her substantial hips and added: “I was never much of a one for ghosts myself.”

“Ghosts?” I asked. “We haven’t heard anything about ghosts.”

“Well, it’s that young man… the one that drowned, you know. He was shot at and that was the end of him. Someone said he’d been seen on the shore like… coming out of the sea.”

“But he’s dead and buried.”

“I know. But this was his ghost, you know, sir. Ghosts don’t take heed of coffins. And the other one was with him.”

“What other one?” I asked.

“Oh, that young man he was friendly with. Him as was working up at the big house. What was his name?”

“Billy Grafter?” I said.

“Yes, that’s him. He was drowned when the boat was upset. Well, he’s been seen… according to some. Or his ghost has.”

“He’s been seen… here?” I asked faintly.

“Why, you look all shook up, Mrs. Frenshaw. There’s nothing to be afraid of in ghosts.”

“Who saw this?” I asked.

“Oh, it was one or two of them. Patty Grey’s girl, Ada, said she was down on the beach with her brother collecting wood that had been thrown up by the tide… and she said he was there. He appeared… and then he was gone.”

“It was inevitable that someone should start imagining these things,” said David. “It made quite a stir at the time.”

We put down our glasses.

“That was enjoyable, Mrs. Penn,” went on David. “I am sure you are right about the tang.”

She ushered us out.

“Very good farmers, the Penns,” said David, as we rode away. “Everything in order. I wish there were more like them.”

But I could only think: Someone has seen Billy Grafter. Was it imagination or does that mean that he is here… in the neighbourhood?

We were rather worried about Aunt Sophie for she was not very well. My mother said one of us should call every day.

“She hasn’t been the same since Alberic died,” Jeanne told us. “And now there is all this talk about ghosts, she fancies Alberic can come back and talk to her… tell her who his murderer was…”

“Is there a lot of talk about ghosts?”

“Among the servants, yes. Two of them have said they have actually seen Alberic’s friend who was drowned with him, and now she has the idea that Alberic is trying to reach her. She talks about it all the time. Dolly Mather is there with her a good deal. Poor Dolly, she doesn’t have much of a life. Mrs. Trent has changed so much since that suicide. You know how she always wanted to be included in everything… now she hardly ever goes out. Dolly is here a lot. I think she must find it a relief to get away from Grasslands. And Mademoiselle likes to have her. They talk constantly of Alberic.”

“I heard the rumour that Billy Grafter had been seen,” I said.

“Yes. He’s supposed to look as though he has walked out of the sea… dripping water and ghastly white.”

“It’s a lot of nonsense.”

“She takes comfort in thinking that Alberic could come back.”

“Was she really so fond of him when he was here?”

Jeanne looked at me shrewdly. “She took an interest in him. She liked to have him around. You know he was very useful. There weren’t many she would have trusted to go up to London and do little commissions for her. She let him ride the horses. I think it was his being of our own nationality and being upset by everything that was happening in France… It was a common tragedy.”

“And the fact that he is dead would endear him to her.”

Jeanne said nothing and I went on: “Oh, you know as well as I do that Aunt Sophie revels in misfortune. If only she would try to see the bright things of life. She shuts herself away… lives like a recluse…”

“That is Mademoiselle d’Aubigné,” said Jeanne soberly. “And we must accept this and do all we can to make life tolerable for her.”

“You are right, Jeanne, as always. Does she really want us to visit her?”

“Oh, yes, she looks forward to seeing you. She likes to rest and meditate in the early afternoon but as you come at three and go at five… that’s as she likes it. She was always one for regularity. She likes life to go to a pattern.”

“Well, I shall come every afternoon as long as she wants me, and if I don’t, I expect my mother will.”

“Oh, I think she would rather it was you. She still broods on the past and often talks about your father. She was very much in love with him, you know, and I think she has never quite forgiven your mother for marrying him. And she thinks of you as the daughter she has never had.”

“Then I’ll come.”

And I did. Each afternoon I rode over and I made sure that I left precisely at five.

Aunt Sophie talked often of Alberic.

She did believe that people sometimes—as she said—“came back” and “got into touch” with those of whom they had been very fond; and if they had died a violent death they sometimes came back to haunt their murderers.

Dolly Mather was usually with her when I arrived and sometimes she stayed awhile. I think she offered a great deal of comfort to Sophie, who would see them as kindred spirits, both maimed in a way, both treated unfairly by fate, both having suffered the loss of a loved one.

They talked of Alberic and of Evie, and Sophie constantly said that she believed one day they would “come through” to her.

“And when they do,” she said, “Alberic will tell me the name of his murderer, and then I shall do my best to see that the wicked ones… for perhaps it was more than one… are brought to justice.”

I wondered what she would say if I told her that Alberic had been a spy, that it was men such as he who had helped to bring about the revolution which had resulted in so much misery for her own country.