The House Called Hadlows

by Victoria Clayton

  But Melissa had found the door to her own room.

  ‘Come and see, Sebastian. It’s quite beautiful. There’s a four-poster like yours but smaller with green curtains and a silver monogram. And the dressing-table’s all lace with ivory brushes. And there’s a painting of — is it a lion? Or a big cat — oh!’ Here her voice trailed away sadly for the painting had reminded her of her own cat, Mantari. She had lost him at the end of a series of strange adventures when she had first met Sebastian, one snowy winter long ago.

  Perhaps it should be explained here that she and Sebastian were in fact not related at all, and it was by the most extraordinary chance that after all their adventures they had come to be stepbrother and sister. The only flaw to her great happiness at this event was the disappearance of the cat who had once been her greatest companion and who was undoubtedly touched with the elusive and mysterious quality commonly called magic.

  Unfortunately, magic works in a strange and sometimes incomprehensible way, not always in agreement with the wishes of those concerned, but Melissa felt that if she were patient, all would in the end be resolved. In her dreams Mantari was by her side once more, as bright and alive as ever, and she never gave up hope that one day he would be with her in her waking life, although her longing often made her sad.

  She looked hard at the painting. There was definitely something about the yellow eyes, their firm stare with the hint of a wink, that reminded her of Mantari.

  Then she began to unpack her clothes, hanging her dresses in the creaking old wardrobe which threatened collapse at any moment. She threw on a simple cotton dress and brushed out her hair with an unexpected sense of happiness and anticipation. She touched the monogram on the back of the hair brush: a small ‘S’ and a larger ‘L’. It was the same on the bed cover.

  ‘I wonder if the “L” stands for Langton,’ she thought to herself. ‘That was my mother’s name before she married so it must be Uncle Bertram’s too.’

  She went into Sebastian’s room. He looked quite his old self again in his old green jacket, with his hair falling untidily into his eyes.

  ‘Good, you’re ready,’ he said as soon as he saw her. ‘I wonder if there’s time to take a look around outside before dinner?’

  As if in answer to his question a deep boom resounded through the house.

  ‘Bother, that must be the gong already. You must have spent hours dressing yourself up and I don’t know who you think’s going to look at you.’

  Melissa refused to rise to the remark, merely commenting, ‘It’s very evident that you don’t bother with such trivialities yourself!’

  There was a knock on the door and Fandeagle appeared, a lamp in his hand.

  ‘Dinner is ready. Will you be so good as to follow me?’

  They slipped out into the corridor after him, the light casting great shadows against the dark panelling and each was filled with a strange and inexplicable sense of excitement.

  AT THE foot of the main staircase Fandeagle turned left and opened a door concealed in the shadows. This led into a long passage, the walls of which were panelled in oak and the ceiling draped in a thick grey felt, trailing long threads which fluttered in the cold draughts.

  With a squirm of horror Melissa realized that the grey felt was composed of layers of cobwebs, spun by generations of Hadlows spiders.

  ‘Oh, Sebastian,’ she whispered, ‘I do hope those spiders don’t suddenly drop down on one.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ he replied scornfully. ‘Spiders can’t hurt you. Not English ones anyway. I bet they’re hanging on for dear life, rather than fall on to a great human girl.’

  Nevertheless Melissa moved along the passage with great speed, almost treading on the heels of Fandeagle.

  At last he stopped and opened a door in the wall.

  ‘The dining-room, Miss. Please go in.’ Then he disappeared into the shadows of the passage.

  The children went in. It was an enormous room, the rafters rising to a point high above their heads. From them hung great chandeliers blue with the smoke of many candles. The floor was marble, yellow and cracked with age but it still glowed faintly from centuries of polishing. A wooden balcony ran along one wall where once the musicians had sat and played for the revellers. Now it was empty, grey with dust and cobwebs. At the far end of the room was a long table and seated at either end were Uncle Bertram and Aunt Augusta.

  ‘Come in, my dears,’ she called when she saw them hovering in the doorway, somewhat overawed. Her voice sang among the rafters and echoed down the length of the hall. The children walked across the floor, their footsteps ringing on the cold marble. When they reached the table Melissa gave an exclamation of surprise and pleasure. It was set with the most beautiful gold plates, bordered with rubies. By each plate stood a goblet of thick crimson glass. At either end of the table were silver candlesticks surrounded by white flowers and everything sparkled with cleanliness. But the best thing of all stood in the centre of the table. It was a white swan. Its neck was arched and its wings outstretched as if about to take flight and at first Melissa thought that it was alive. But it remained perfectly still, the candlelight trembling in its amber eye.

  ‘I see you admire our swan,’ said Uncle Bertram, as he rose to greet them. ‘It was your great-great Uncle Falcon’s favourite pet and he was so devoted to it that he had it stuffed when it died. Sebastian, would you sit by Augusta, and you sit next to me, Selina.’

  Melissa was quite startled to hear herself called by her first name, which she had given up using some years ago.

  ‘Please, would you mind calling me Melissa? I’m so unused to Selina that I’m afraid I shouldn’t answer half the time.’

  ‘Certainly, my dear,’ said Aunt Augusta. ‘Of course Selina is a family name and rather pretty, I think. Still Melissa is charming too; much nicer than Augusta. My family had a propensity for thinking up ugly names. But I mustn’t keep Fandeagle waiting.’

  And as if summoned by a bell Fandeagle appeared carrying a great silver dish.

  ‘Jugged hare, Madam,’ he said, removing the lid with a flourish.

  ‘Excellent! My favourite dish!’ beamed Uncle Bertram. ‘May I give you a little wine, Melissa?’

  A smooth claret, the same colour as the goblet, flowed into her glass.

  They had an excellent meal, all the more enjoyable because in spite of their age Aunt Augusta and Uncle Bertram proved lively conversationalists and the vast ancestral hall seemed quite homely with so much enthusiastic talk and laughter.

  The hare was followed by a marvellous fruity meringue pudding topped with crystallized grapes.

  ‘Who does the cooking?’ asked Melissa. ‘It’s really delicious.’

  ‘Fandeagle does everything here,’ replied Aunt Augusta. ‘His kitchen is his pride and joy. You must visit it some time. When the family was rich there were forty servants in the house and thirty-five gardeners. This was before my time of course. I was eighteen when I came here as your uncle’s bride and even then the house was beginning to crumble. But Bertram loved the place so much that we stayed in spite of it, and now I’ve grown to love it too, just as much. I expect when we die the house will be pulled down.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Sebastian, ‘it would be a crime to pull it down.’

  ‘I can’t think why Mother never mentioned how beautiful it is,’ said Melissa.

  ‘Well, she was only four years old when she left it so I don’t suppose she would remember it at all,’ explained Uncle Bertram. ‘You see, your mother and I are only half-brother and sister. My mother died and my father married again. Then your mother was born soon after. There was a great disparity of ages between my father and your grandmother and although I admired my father in some ways I wouldn’t say he was an easy person to live with. He had a terrible temper and I think there was a cruel streak in him. She must have been a lonely, unhappy woman. Anyway, she left my father eventually and took your mother with her back to London where I hope she had a happier life. I was on
ly a few years younger than your grandmother and I remember her as a very charming woman. Your mother married when she was eighteen, went to India and didn’t return until she met your father’ (here he turned to Sebastian) ‘and married him — when was it — two years ago?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Sebastian. ‘But I must say, it seems much longer.’

  ‘But didn’t my grandmother and your father ever see each other again? Didn’t he wonder about his daughter or want to see her?’ asked Melissa.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid they quarrelled rather bitterly on parting. You see your grandmother was a very sensitive woman and also very nervous. She used to imagine that she saw things — unnatural things I mean — and heard noises which frightened her.’

  ‘Do you mean, she saw ghosts?’ asked Melissa, with a little shiver.

  ‘Well, I said she imagined she saw them. I can assure you there is nothing to fear in this house. Spirits need not be malevolent you know. Still, this is not, perhaps, a conversation for this time of night.’

  ‘But do you think there are spirits here?’ insisted Melissa.

  ‘I see you are a persistent young woman,’ said Uncle Bertram. ‘A characteristic which I admire. But you must allow an old man the right to keep his secrets.’

  Melissa blushed deeply and apologized, feeling very ashamed of her curiosity.

  ‘Tut, tut, my dear,’ said Uncle Bertram, seeing her embarrassment. ‘I was not correcting you. I am too old to have any illusions about teaching others what is right. It is merely my whim to be reticent on some subjects.’ And he patted her hand and smiled warmly at her.

  ‘Well, I think it’s time for Bertram and I to go to bed,’ said Aunt Augusta. ‘I don’t know what you two would like to do?’

  ‘Well, I’m rather tired,’ said Melissa. ‘I think I’ll go to bed too, so I can get up early in the morning.’

  ‘I don’t feel very tired myself,’ said Sebastian, actually stifling a yawn as he said it. ‘But perhaps an early night would be a good thing.’

  Fandeagle appeared silently and handed the children a lamp each. Uncle Bertram took Augusta in his arms and bidding the children good night, carried her from the room.

  ‘Don’t you think they’re two of the nicest people you ever met?’ said Melissa.

  ‘Oh why do girls have to be so sentimental about everything,’ sighed Sebastian. ‘Still, I know what you mean,’ he added hastily, seeing that Melissa looked hurt. ‘We’d better put these candles out.’

  They blew out all the candles and left the room. Just as Melissa was closing the door behind her, she glanced back into the darkened room, and thought that she saw a soft, white shape rising slowly to the ceiling and heard the beat of huge wings.

  ‘Probably just bats,’ she thought to herself, not in the least alarmed. For she knew that bats were gentle, furry things and not in the least concerned with flying into one’s hair as some people thought. ‘I mustn’t start imagining things like my grandmother.’ And she set off down the spidery passage after Sebastian.

  She was pleased to find, as she climbed into bed a few moments later, a stone hot water bottle to warm her feet. The sheets were spotlessly clean although very well darned. ‘Good night, Sebastian,’ she called out.

  But there was no reply. He was already fast asleep. The moon shone on the old telescope by the window. The stars glimmered far away, mysterious, brilliant and quite forgotten.

  When Melissa woke the next morning, beams of sunlight, flecked with dust, were slanted across her bed. She got up at once and dressed quickly. She found a jug of hot water on the dressing table so she washed her face and hands and combed her hair with one of the ivory combs. Then she went to the window to let in some fresh air.

  The window had not been opened for some time for the catch was very stiff and she could not move it. The thick panes were green with age and there were tendrils of ivy growing over them. But she could just make out the garden below. It seemed to be mostly rose bushes directly beneath her window, and between them there was a path edged with silver lilies which led up to an old sundial. And there was someone standing by the sundial. Her back was to the house and she was gazing out over the garden. She wore a long black dress and her hair, falling almost to her waist, was quite white. Yet her slenderness and grace gave the impression of youth.

  Melissa struggled again with the catch and this time it opened so easily that she almost fell out.

  Then she heard singing. A clear voice floating in the hot, blue air, the melody seeming to glide up to Melissa’s window with the scent of flowers. It was a strange song, Melissa did not know it at first, but as she listened it grew familiar and it seemed as if the house and garden knew it too. Pale butterflies flickered in the haze around the swaying figure like the notes of the melody and insects hummed dreamily like an orchestra. The whole house seemed to be holding its breath and listening, as if for that moment time stood still.

  Then, quite suddenly, she vanished. The air stirred and then was quiet. Melissa leaned out of the window and searched the garden with her eyes. The haze shimmered and shifted over the deserted lawns.

  A strange tingling took hold of Melissa’s toes and spread over all her body and she shivered several times although she was not cold.

  She stood thinking for a moment, her heart beating rather fast. Then she went quickly into Sebastian’s room.

  ‘Sebastian, wake up. Oh, do wake up! I’ve something to tell you.’

  A loud yawn came from the bed. ‘All right, I’m awake. What is it?’

  ‘I’ve just seen a woman in the garden. She was singing. It was very strange. I don’t know why but I felt most peculiar. And then she disappeared.’

  ‘What’s so extraordinary about that?’ said Sebastian lazily.

  ‘When I say she disappeared, I mean she vanished. Into thin air.’

  Sebastian sat up, instantly alert. ‘I say, are you sure? She couldn’t have slipped away somewhere?’

  ‘No. She was there one second and literally gone the next.’

  Sebastian threw back the bedclothes and leaped out. He pulled on his clothes and ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘After breakfast we’ll go and look in the garden. Do some exploring. So your grandmother probably wasn’t imagining things after all.’ He looked eminently satisfied. ‘Come on, then.’

  ‘Don’t you think you ought to wash?’

  Sebastian looked at Melissa with contempt so she wisely shut up.

  They found a table set for breakfast in the room where they had had tea the day before.

  It was empty but as soon as they sat down Fandeagle came in with a tray of bacon and kidneys and toast. While they were eating Fandeagle brought them some coffee and then said: ‘The Master wished me to ask you if you would care to visit the library this morning. It has a fine collection of books and you could make a selection for your own reading.’

  Sebastian tossed up in his mind between the garden and the library and politeness won. Anyway, he would genuinely like to see the library and no doubt the garden could wait till the afternoon.

  ‘Yes, I’d like to very much. How do I find it?’

  ‘Turn right out of the hall, continue to the end of the corridor where you will come to the foot of the tower. The library is on the first floor in the tower.’ He bowed and went out.

  ‘Are you coming too?’ Sebastian asked Melissa as he finished his toast and got up from the stable.

  She nodded.

  They found their way to the foot of the tower and went up the spiral staircase.

  They knocked at the first door they came to.

  ‘Come in,’ said Uncle Bertram.

  The library was a large room and completely circular. Every inch of wall space was covered with books, bound in leather. Their spines were somewhat cracked and peeling, but they retained their warm, mellow colours. The ceiling was a dark blue dome and on it were painted the suns, the moons and all the stars of the universe. The floor was a huge mosaic
map of the world.

  ‘Oh,’ sighed Melissa. ‘What a marvellous room!’

  ‘It’s my favourite,’ agreed Uncle Bertram, who was seated at a table by the window. ‘It was designed by my great-great-grandfather. Part of its charm to me is that the maps of the world and universe are quite different from present-day maps. If you look here, this expanse of ocean now contains Australia. These anachronisms are cast for ever now. They’ll probably be sold for a great price when the house is pulled down.’

  ‘Is there nothing that can save it?’ asked Sebastian.

  ‘Not really. If I could earn some money and put it in order, it might be preserved as an historic monument. But it’s hard for a classical scholar to make his books interesting to more than a few. Never mind, one must be prepared to accept changes. There is nothing permanent in this life after all. Now, what sort of books do you like to read? I’m sure I can find something of interest for you.’

  ‘Have you any books about the stars?’ asked Sebastian. ‘Something simple to begin with?’

  ‘Bless my soul! I have literally thousands. Astronomy is my passion. Come over here.’

  And he began to pull books from the shelves at great speed. Soon he and Sebastian were deep in astronomical discussion and Melissa realized that they had forgotten all about her. She began to look through some books by herself and eventually found one to her liking.

  ‘May I take this one to read?’ she asked.

  Uncle Bertram was talking about the celestial sphere and didn’t hear her, so she put the book under her arm and slipped out of the room, intending to go and find her aunt.

  The house was quiet and there seemed to be no one about. She stood uncertainly for a moment in the hall which was darker and colder than the rest of the house, and then made up her mind to go outside. She went to open the front door and then suddenly she paused and glanced behind her. She sensed that something was wrong. A small prickle ran down her spine. And then she saw that the patch of gold and crimson light at the head of the stairs was moving. It slid slowly down the steps towards her and her eyes were transfixed by the shivering light. About three steps from the bottom it stopped and then it began to glide up the wall. It came to rest on one of the portraits. Melissa found that her feet were taking her, step by step, over to the stairs. One, two, three more steps and she was standing in front of the shining canvas. It was as if her eyes were able suddenly to see back through the centuries for the painting began to gleam with colour of its own and the old faded strokes became full of life. A violet light crept into the dull eyes on the canvas and the pale cheeks became flushed with rose. The white hair became a fine gold and on the elegant, white hand a ring, shaped like a rampant lion, glowed emerald. And suddenly for one brief moment Melissa was looking into the eyes of someone who was as alive as herself.