Voices in a Haunted Room

by Philippa Carr

  “The romance does seem to be wilting. It wouldn’t have been very suitable. I don’t think John and Gwen would greatly care to be allied with Mrs. Trent.”

  “I know she is a rather dreadful woman, but I think she is genuinely fond of Evie, and Evie is quite a nice girl. I do think we ought to help a bit. Harry will be at the christening. Couldn’t we ask just Evie?”

  My mother grimaced. “I wouldn’t mind but there’s her grandmother and her sister, who always seems to stand about in brooding silence.”

  “Still, I should like to ask Evie. I wonder if we could ask her alone? I know what I’ll do. I’ll say it is just a family affair, but if Evie cared to come… just as a representative of Grasslands… or something like that.”

  “Oh, I’ve got no objection to Evie,” said my mother.

  I said I would ask her.

  Then I fell to wondering what Mrs. Trent would have done if I had ignored her request. Would she have raked up that long-ago scandal, and what would my mother think of her husband’s youthful misdemeanours? She would surely not be very grieved. It was so long ago and these things settle down in time. I had to thank Mrs. Trent for that comforting thought.

  I rode over to Grasslands the next day and saw Mrs. Trent.

  “It is just family, Mrs. Trent,” I said, “so could Evie come alone… just to represent Grasslands, as it were.”

  Her face broke into smiles, and I felt very pleased.

  “I knew you’d help, Mrs. Frenshaw,” she said.

  I was glad to have done this service. She was quite right. If her story were true, Evie certainly deserved some little help—and even if it were not, Evie still deserved it.

  The priest who had married David and me presided at the christening, which took place in our own little chapel at Eversleigh. It was a moving ceremony. Jessica looked magnificent in the christening robes, which had been worn by Eversleigh babies for the last hundred years; and Molly Blackett had done her best to make Amaryllis no less splendid.

  Amaryllis behaved impeccably, but Jessica indulged in a screaming fit at the font and refused to stop until she firmly grasped the priest’s rather predominant nose which he recklessly allowed to come within reach of her hands.

  Apart from that all went well; the babies were taken back to their nurseries, divested of their ceremonial garments and put to sleep in their cots.

  After everyone had had a peep at them and expressed admiration, we went back to the hall, where wine was served with sandwiches and my mother and I between us cut the christening cake.

  Aunt Sophie had come over with Jeanne. They had been driven by Alberic, for she had acquired a small carriage, more like a trap which held her and Jeanne comfortably, and there was room for the driver up front. Alberic drove this round and he took great pride in it, I believed.

  I insisted that Jeanne join us, which she did, rather against her will. Alberic went to the kitchens. He was very friendly with one of the servants—young Billy Grafter, for whom he had actually found a job in our kitchens.

  Engaging staff was usually left to the housekeeper or butler. I knew they had been looking for a replacement for old Jem Barker, who had died a few months before, and when Billy Grafter appeared, the butler asked permission to engage him, which was immediately given for he was bright and young and supplied references which assured us that he was a willing worker. It appeared that on one of his visits to London, Alberic had met Billy when he was working at an inn. Billy was a country boy who did not like town life and he jumped at the chance to come to us.

  I knew that he and Alberic were often in each other’s company. Alberic had to exercise Sophie’s two horses and as there were several in our stables, the young men often went off together in their spare time.

  Sophie was pleased about this. She said Alberic’s English was improving and she was glad he had a friend at Eversleigh.

  My attention that day was on Evie and Harry Farringdon. They seemed so happy together. I wondered why Harry did not make some effort to see her. He could always make some excuse to visit us and go to Grasslands.

  Mrs. Trent was a very wily woman. She knew she could not invite the Farringdons to Grasslands, for she was not the kind they would welcome into their family. No, Evie had to fascinate the young man to such an extent that he would suggest marriage even without the enthusiasm of his family.

  That was probably where the affair was flagging. If Evie had come from a suitable family, they might have been engaged by now.

  I would do my best for Evie. I liked her. She was different from her grandmother and sister. She was a pleasant, pretty, ordinary young girl.

  Jonathan had come home for the christening. Outwardly he seemed devoted to Millicent. Only I knew what a farce that was, for he conveyed to me by his looks and the occasional whispered word that he had not given up hope yet and he was sure I was not going to abandon him.

  To tell the truth, he filled me with misgiving. There was some potent sexuality in him of which I could not help being aware and I was horrified to realize that I was still unsure of myself.

  I must tread warily, I knew.

  I spent as much time with David as I possibly could. I believe he had never been so happy in the whole of his life. He adored Amaryllis and was so delighted when he fancied she knew him. It soothed me a great deal to watch him with her, and I could not help thinking of that old man, Andrew Mather, who had been so happy with the child who was not his. But Amaryllis was David’s. I was sure of it—or perhaps I was trying to convince myself that this was so.

  After the christening Aunt Sophie had been driven home by Alberic, for she had merely come for the ceremony. My mother said it was amazing how she had changed. “At one time, when we were in the château, she would not emerge for anything.”

  “Enderby has done a great deal for her,” I said.

  “Enderby, Jeanne, of course, and I think she has a great interest in that boy Alberic.”

  “Thank Heaven she found something to be interested in!”

  “I hope she will become more and more reconciled,” said my mother.

  She had asked Evie to stay for a rather informal supper and Evie accepted with alacrity. It was a pleasant meal; we were very merry; we heard at length about Millicent’s christening, and Gwen Farringdon talked about that of Harry. There was no mention of the state of affairs on the other side of the Channel and that was pleasant.

  We all sat in the punch room afterwards conversing until everyone began to droop a little and my mother suggested we retire. Evie should be escorted home. Harry immediately offered to take her and my mother thought that either David or Jonathan should accompany them, discreetly implying that it would not be quite acceptable for the pair to go alone. David offered to go and my mother and Dickon said good night.

  I went along to the library to get a book which I had left there and was coming out when Jonathan came in. He shut the door and leaned against it, smiling at me.

  “I thought you had retired,” I said.

  “No. I saw you come down here, so I followed.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Unnecessary question. To do that which you are making increasingly difficult. To talk to you.”

  “What about?”

  “Us.”

  “There is nothing more to be said.”

  “After all we have been to each other! You can’t dismiss it like that.”

  “It was madness… momentary madness.”

  “Oh come, Claudine. It wasn’t momentary, was it? Didn’t we meet by arrangement?”

  “I admit I did a terrible thing. Please, Jonathan, forget it, and let me forget it.”

  “You are never going to forget that, Claudine. Nor am I. Besides, we have our little angel upstairs to remind us.”

  “No, no,” I said. “Amaryllis is David’s.”

  He smiled at me maliciously. “It’s a wise father who knows his own child. How wise is David? How wise am I?”

  “It pleases you to be
flippant. Jonathan, let me alone. It’s over… done with. We have sinned terribly against David. I shall try to do everything I can to make him happy. Won’t you help me?”

  “I certainly will. You don’t think I’m going to tell him: ‘Your wife is a very passionate little lady, which I discovered to my delight.’ What do you take me for?”

  I looked at him steadily and wondered: What? He frightened me. Why, oh why, when he stood before me with his blue eyes alight, should I feel that desire to be close to him, to forget for a while everything but that overwhelming sexual satisfaction which he alone could provide?

  I was trembling a little. I was sure he was aware of it. He was a man who had had a great deal of experience in what he called love. I am not sure that I called it that.

  What was it I felt for him? Love? No. It had a less pleasant name. It was lust. But where did lust end and love begin? I loved David. I wanted to be with David. I wanted never to hurt him and yet this man had made me break my marriage vows and hurt David in a manner which could be more wounding than anything else I could do; and still, although I was trying not to admit it, I was drawn to him.

  I was ignorant, inexperienced. I could not understand myself and I was afraid.

  I tried to speak firmly. “It’s all over, Jonathan. I’m deeply regretful that it ever happened. I don’t know what possessed me.”

  He came closer and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I do, Claudine,” he said softly. “I do.”

  I stepped backwards.

  “You can’t do without me,” he said, “any more than I can do without you. We were meant for each other. What a pity you galloped into marriage!”

  “And now you are about to do the same.”

  “Not a gallop. A graceful, well-planned canter.”

  “I’m sorry for Millicent.”

  “You shouldn’t be. She is perfectly contented.”

  “When she discovers she is married to a philanderer, what will she think? A man who is contemplating marriage with her and at the same time is trying to seduce another woman.”

  “She is delighted with the amalgamation of the two families. You don’t realize what that is going to mean. She does—and so do her papa and mama. Millicent is too worldly not to realize that there are certain concessions to be made even in the best of bargains.”

  “You are so calculating.”

  “All part of my success.”

  “And I am tired. Good night.”

  He caught my hand.

  “Are you going to tell me that you don’t love me any more?”

  “I never loved you. It was something different. I know that now.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it was rather fierce, wasn’t it?”

  “I was foolish. I can only say ignorant. Please, Jonathan, I want to forget it. When you are married you will be mainly in London. Don’t think we can ever start again.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “For the sort of man I am it is a challenge. That which is out of reach is always more desirable than that which falls into one’s hands. You’re challenging me, Claudine.”

  “I am telling you to let me alone. Good night.”

  I went to the door. He laughed and I heard him say: “I never give up.”

  I ran into the hall. David was just coming in with Harry.

  “Safely delivered to her home,” said David, referring to Evie. He put an arm round me and I smiled at him.

  “You’re tired,” he said.

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “The christening went off perfectly,” said Harry. “The babies were very good… on the whole.”

  “Particularly Amaryllis,” said David proudly. “She is a beautiful child.”

  Harry smiled at me. “Fond parent,” he said.

  “I think Evie enjoyed it,” I put in.

  “Oh yes,” agreed David. “She was rather reluctant to go home, I believe. Grandma Trent was waiting up for her. There was a candle in one of the windows. She was obviously watchful. She dashed down and wanted us to come in for some sloe gin or elderberry or dandelion or something. We pleaded the lateness of the hour.”

  “She is devoted to her grand-daughters,” I said.

  “No doubt about that,” added Harry.

  We had come to the room which Harry was using so we said good night and left him there.

  David and I went on to ours.

  “Such a happy day it’s been! Shall we just peep into the nursery to look at her?”

  So we went there and stood on either side of the sleeping child.

  David looked down at her with wonder. Nothing… nothing must disturb his happiness.

  Meeting in a Coffee House

  CHRISTMAS CAME AND WENT. There were the usual feasting and games. Our neighbours came in as they had done the previous year and that included Mrs. Trent with her grand-daughters. The Farringdons were our guests and of course the Pettigrews. Lady Pettigrew said that we should have spent Christmas with them this year, but the babies made travelling difficult and so it was easier to celebrate the festive season at Eversleigh.

  The marriage of Jonathan and Millicent was to take place in June and we must travel there then, said my mother, for the babies would be older, and that would simplify matters.

  It was hard to believe that it was a year ago that I had been in the midst of my affaire with Jonathan. It was last Boxing Day when I had ended it abruptly and almost immediately afterwards discovered that I was going to have a child.

  Harry Farringdon had still not declared himself; and I asked my mother if she thought he ever would.

  “The courtship—if courtship it is—does seem to drag on. I would say that Evie is in love. One can tell that sometimes.”

  “And Harry?”

  “Well, he does seem to delight in her company.”

  “Do you think the delay is due to his parents?”

  “Or her grandmother.”

  “A man does not marry his wife’s relations surely.”

  “No. But they might give him cause for thought. I imagine Harry is a cautious young man.”

  “Well, I think he should make up his mind soon.”

  “You give them every opportunity, I must say. You’ve become a matchmaker, Claudine. At least where those two are concerned.”

  I did not tell her why. I was not sure whether it would have disturbed her or not. But I had a strong conviction that I should help Evie all I could, and there was no doubt that marriage into the Farringdon family would be very desirable for her.

  Jonathan went back to London. There was great consternation over the war, which seemed to be resulting in successes for the French throughout Europe. Dickon was in London with Jonathan and now that my mother had a baby she did not accompany him as frequently as she had once.

  There had been more causes for alarm in January when Utrecht, Rotterdam and Dort fell into the hands of the French, and the Stadtholder and his family made their escape to England, arriving in an open boat. It was a wonder they survived, for the weather had turned bitterly cold and everything was frozen up.

  Throughout the house great fires burned but even so the wind seemed to whistle through the windows and there were draughts everywhere.

  The men seemed greatly concerned about the French victories which, according to Jonathan, were due to the genius of one man—a Corsican adventurer by the name of Napoleon Bonaparte. It had been hoped that with the fall of Robespierre there would be an end to these successes, for Bonaparte was a well-known supporter of the tyrant; but by some clever manoeuvring he managed to extricate himself from the slaughter when so many suffered the same fate as their friend and master. So Napoleon Bonaparte continued with the army.

  “Even the bloodthirsty mob have the sense to realize what he is doing for his country,” commented Jonathan.

  We talked often of Charlot and Louis Charles, who might well be involved in these successful campaigns. But we had no news of them.
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  My mother used to say: “Charlot is well. Something tells me that. If only he could get a message to us! But how could he with his country at war with the whole of Europe.”

  When Dickon and Jonathan were with us the talk was all of war and political matters. Prussia was asking for a loan and endlessly they discussed the rights and wrongs of this.

  And all the time we shivered, until February came bringing with it the melting snows, and then it rained so heavily that there was the problem of flooding in many parts of the country.

  Then Tuscany made peace with France.

  Dickon said: “I can see others doing the same.”

  David’s point was that the revolution was over now and the Republic had to be accepted. He said: “At least we shall settle down to peace. The French have chosen the government they want. There is nothing to be done but leave them to it.”

  Dickon replied: “They have gone to a great deal of trouble, much blood has been shed, and now they are learning that it need never have happened. They have exchanged one set of rulers for another every bit as harsh.”

  “The Monarchy would never have abdicated,” said Jonathan. “The people wanted to be rid of them and they saw that the only way of doing so was through the guillotine.”

  When the Swedes acknowledged the French it seemed obvious the way things were going.

  “If this continues,” said Dickon, “we shall be left alone fighting the French.”

  He and Jonathan went up to London, and this was one of the occasions when my mother did not go with him.

  It was a cool March day. There were still signs of the heavy flooding and some of the fields were under water. I had been out with David during the morning and we had ridden round the estate. I enjoyed these morning rides, meeting the tenants, chatting with them, stopping to taste their wine.

  David never hesitated to discuss their ideas with them, which made an ideal relationship between landowner and the people who lived on his estate. Jonathan would never have had the same patience, the good will, the unselfishness, the ability to see a matter from someone else’s point of view. They had chosen their careers wisely—or perhaps their father had selected them for them—for Jonathan was suited to the worldly life of London society and all those secret matters of which even my mother could not guess.