The Secret Woman

by Victoria Holt

  I didn’t want to sell the house. And yet I believed I should have to.

  I walked across the lawns. The apple and cherry trees were covered in pink and white blossom; and there were flowery pyramids on the horse chestnut tree near my window. I had a strong feeling for the Queen’s House.

  I stepped inside. I stood listening to the clocks. It was still as cluttered as in Aunt Charlotte’s day. Not many people came to the house now. Perhaps they felt embarrassed to deal with someone they suspected of being concerned in sudden death.

  That night I walked all round the house, through room after room. So much valuable furniture for which I could not find profitable buyers! I should have to sell up and that meant selling to dealers. Anyone knew that they would only buy cheaply.

  But I was coming nearer and nearer to a climax.

  I seemed to hear my father’s voice: “Stand up to your troubles. Face them and then you’ll find the way to overcome them.”

  That was what I was doing and the malicious clocks were telling me, “Sell, sell, sell, sell.” Yes, sell and get out; and start afresh. Make a new life…entirely.

  ***

  “There’s some people,” said Ellen, “that say the Queen’s House is haunted.”

  “What nonsense,” I retorted.

  “Well, that’s what they say. It gives you the creeps.”

  I looked at her sharply. She had changed since Aunt Charlotte’s death. I was certain that at any moment she was going to say that she couldn’t continue. After all, she had only stayed to “help me out,” as she had explained at the time. Mr. Orfey was an exacting husband. With the legacy, he had bought his own horse and cart and was in business on his own—“building up nicely,” said Ellen.

  But it was not so much Mr. Orfey’s growing prosperity that made Ellen chary of the Queen’s House. It was the memory of Aunt Charlotte. In a way the house was haunted for Ellen as well as for me. Ellen wouldn’t go up into Aunt Charlotte’s room alone. As she said it gave her “the creeps.” I could see that very soon she would be giving her notice.

  It was a wet day and the rain had been falling steadily through the night; the skies were overcast and the house was full of shadows even in the afternoon. Mrs. Buckle going up to the attic rooms came hurrying down to say there was a pool of water on the floor of the attic. It was coming through the roof.

  The roof had always been a matter for anxiety. Aunt Charlotte had had it patched up now and then but I remembered the last occasion when we were told it needed major repairs. Aunt Charlotte had said she couldn’t afford it.

  I was feeling very melancholy when Chantel arrived. How pretty she looked in her dark nurse’s cloak which set off her lovely hair to advantage; her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled. “I couldn’t resist calling,” she told me. “Miss Beddoes drove me into the high street, and I’m joining her in an hour’s time. I was terrified that you’d be out.”

  “Oh Chantel, it is good to see you!” I poured out everything that had happened; my visit to the bank manager, my fears about Ellen and the leaking roof.

  “My poor Anna! What shall you do? You must have that money your aunt left me. I can’t imagine why she should have done such a thing. I’d only been here such a short time.”

  “She quickly grew fond of you…as anyone would.”

  “You must satisfy me by taking that money back.”

  “You know I’d do no such thing.”

  “Well, at least it’s there if you want it. What are you going to do?”

  “The bank tells me I should sell up.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I can try. There’s the house. That should fetch something.”

  She nodded gravely. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing, Anna.”

  “I wish I could be sure.”

  “Have you written it all in your journal?”

  “How could I when you had it?”

  “As you have mine. You must give me mine back. Things must be written when they happen, otherwise they lose their flavor. One forgets so quickly the essential feeling of the moment.”

  “It was wonderful reading it, Chantel. I thought I was there.”

  “How I wish you were! What fun that would be. If only they wanted an antique adviser at the Castle!”

  “Did anyone ever want such a thing?”

  “It’s fascinating, Anna. I’m intrigued by it. It’s not only the place which is so unusual, it’s them.”

  “I know. I could sense that. Has anything else happened?”

  “I’ve consolidated my position. I’m getting to know them all so much better. I’m no longer the stranger within their gates.”

  “And this man…Rex?”

  “Now why did you pick on him?”

  “I fancied he had appealed to you rather specially.”

  “That’s because you’re thinking of romance. Now do you think that the heir to all those millions is going to be interested, seriously, in his sister-in-law’s nurse?”

  “I am sure he must be interested.”

  “The important word is seriously.” She laughed, and I said: “Well, at least you are not thinking of him seriously.”

  “I’m so frivolous, as you know.”

  “Not always. I shall always remember you, Chantel, at the inquest. You weren’t frivolous then.”

  “I have my serious moments.”

  “I can’t get Aunt Charlotte out of my mind.”

  “Stop it,” she said sternly. “You must get her out of your mind. It’s all over. It’s finished. What you have to think of now is what you are going to do. Is it very bad?”

  “Very. The debts are double, treble what I thought. Aunt Charlotte seemed to lose her judgment. She bought the most unsalable things. I shall never get half what she paid for them, and toward the end she let the debts mount up. At one time she was always so meticulous.”

  “Her illness changed her. It does change people.”

  “It certainly changed her.”

  “You ought to get away, Anna. This is no place for you.”

  “Chantel, it is sweet of you to care so much what becomes of me.”

  “Why Anna, I look on you as my sister.”

  “We have not really known each other long.”

  “Time is not always the foundation on which friendship is built. You can know more of some people in a month than you can of others in years. All that happened here brought us together. I’d like us to stay like that, Anna.”

  “I want it too. But you have sisters.”

  She grimaced. “It’s odd how one loses touch with one’s family. My sister Selina married and stayed in the village where my father had his living, Katey married a doctor and went up to Scotland.”

  “And do you never see them?”

  “I haven’t since I nursed Lady Henrock; you see I came straight to you and there wasn’t time to go home; and it’s so far away in any case. Right up in Yorkshire.”

  “I expect they would love to see you.”

  “They were years older than I, grown up when I was born. I was the afterthought, they used to say. My mother grew sentimental before I was born; she took my name from an old tombstone in the graveyard beside the vicarage. Someone named Chantel was buried there. She departed this life aged twenty-four years. Chantel Spring, her name was. My mother said, If it’s a girl I shall call her Chantel Spring. And she did. I’m Chantel Spring Loman. At least that’s the story I heard. I never knew my mother. I killed her getting born.”

  “Killed her! What an expression. You speak as though it were your fault.”

  “One feels a certain responsibility.”

  “My dear Chantel, that is quite wrong. You should get that out of your head without delay.”

  “Look here,” she said with a laugh, “I came to give you my advice not ask
for yours.”

  “Well what is yours?”

  “Don’t worry. Sell up if you have to. And then we’ll go on from there.”

  “You’re a comfort to me, Chantel.”

  Then we talked about the Castle and what had been happening up there. She was certainly excited about the place. She was like a girl in love, I thought, but with the Castle. Unless that was a blind. I was certain that she was very interested in Rex Crediton; but she did not seem in the least bit apprehensive, although she had said he could not possibly be serious about the nurse.

  I didn’t want her to be hurt, as I had been. It seemed an odd coincidence that she whom I had really begun to think of as the sister I always longed to have, should become too interested in one of those brothers—as I was in the other—too interested, that was, for our comfort.

  I felt so much better when she had gone. I was cheered; I felt that whatever was going to happen I could cope with it.

  I longed to hear more about the Castle; she took her journal away and said that she must “make it up” as soon as possible. I told her I was longing to read the next installment.

  “And you must write yours too, Anna. I want to know everything you do, everything you think, nothing held back. It’s the only way to see the truth.”

  I agreed.

  ***

  It was some time before I read her journal again. In the meantime I had come to the conclusion that I would have to sell up. I had even considered selling the house. I saw a house agent who told me that this would not be easy. It was an interesting house but no repairs had been done for years. The roof was leaking; there was woodworm in one of the doors and dry rot on the river side. “You’re too near the river and the place is damp. Houses like this are very picturesque but they need fortunes spent on them from time to time. Don’t forget this one has been standing here for the last four hundred years. It would be folly to put the house up for sale because so much has to be spent on it you would get practically nothing for it.”

  The best suggestion he could make was that I let the house for a peppercorn rent with the proviso that the tenant must keep it in good repair. This meant that for the privilege of living in the house the tenant would have to see to that leaking roof, that woodworm and dry rot.

  “It seems a possible way out,” I said.

  “Believe me,” was the answer. “It’s the only way out.”

  ***

  So I made up my mind. I was going to sell up, pay the debts; let the house. I should have little—perhaps nothing; but I should be free of encumbrances.

  What I should do then had still to be decided; but these arrangements took so long to settle that I still had months in which to think about my future.

  Meanwhile events were taking place at the Castle and of these I learned through Chantel—but chiefly and most vividly through her journal.

  Seven

  May 9th. I went to see Anna today and heard what they are advising her. I think it will be good for her to get away from the Queen’s House and all its associations—as long as she doesn’t go too far and I can’t see her now and then. I wish there was a means of getting her to the Castle. What fun it would be if we could talk over things as they happen. Today Edith Baines came to my room to bring some medicine Dr. Elgin had left for my patient and we talked. She is very different from her sister Ellen. Very dignified—mistress of the maids and wife to Mr. Baines! She regards me as an equal which means I am treated to graciousness without condescension which is amusing, and also profitable. I believe Edith knows a great deal about the “secrets” of the Castle. She did confide in me that there would shortly be a bit of a “to-do” in the household. Lady Crediton had summoned her yesterday and told her that she had invited the Derringhams for the first week in June. “So,” said Edith, “we shall have some fun and games, and that makes work. Mr. Baines has been told to have the ballroom floor repolished; and I hear she’s already been seeing the gardeners.”

  “The Derringhams?” I said. “They would be important people I imagine since Lady Crediton thinks so highly of them.”

  “In a way,” said Edith, “they’re our rivals.” Edith always implies she has a share in the Lady Line. “But all very friendly, of course. Sir Henry is a friend of Mr. Rex and of her ladyship. As a matter of fact I think Sir Henry and Lady Crediton have decided that Helena will do very well for Mr. Rex.”

  “Do very well?”

  “A match. Link the businesses. That’s always a good thing. My goodness, what a power we’d be—Creditons and Derringhams together.”

  “It all sounds reasonable,” I said.

  Edith raised her eyes to the ceiling: “It makes work. And some of those girls are so lazy. You’ve no idea. At least we’ll get Mr. Crediton safely married. After the Captain doing what he did.”

  “The Captain’s a very mysterious person to me.”

  “That’s what comes of…well,” Edith folded her arms primly. “It’s not the same, is it? After all, who was his mother? She seems like a lady, and there she is waited on hand and foot up in her turret. Jane Goodwin waits on her—thinks the world of her. But I mean to say, who was she to start with? Although of course she was a lady’s maid.” Edith had a close knowledge of the social hierarchy of those who served the rich.

  This was cozy. People like Edith were the best sort of informants. They were so righteous; they had such a sense of family. Edith, for instance, would have been astonished if she were accused of gossiping. Her respect for the family was great but so was her interest in it; and in talking to me she was not discussing it with one of the lower servants.

  “I should think Mrs. Stretton was very beautiful when she was young,” I prompted.

  “I fail to see that that excuses her.”

  “And what of Sir Edward?”

  “It should have been hushed up. But…” Her eyes had fallen on a speck of dust on my cabinet which seemed of as great concern to her as the conduct of Sir Edward with his wife’s lady’s maid. I hastily diverted her attention from it. I did not want young Betsy whose task it was to dust my quarters to be scolded on my account. I wanted to be on pleasant terms with everyone.

  “Why wasn’t it hushed up?” I said quickly.

  “My mother told me. She had a post in the household before her marriage and that was why I was taken on in the first place. Mrs. Stretton—as she calls herself—is nearly twenty years younger than her ladyship, who was married fifteen years before Mr. Rex was born. It appears that Sir Edward believed her ladyship was barren. She was a wonderful help to him; she understood the business; she entertained when necessary—she was an excellent wife in every way but one. She could not produce a healthy child. And of course what Sir Edward wanted was a son to carry on the business.”

  “Naturally, he’d want a son.”

  “Her ladyship had had several failures. Sir Edward was in despair. Then her ladyship was pregnant but no one thought her pregnancy would come to a satisfactory end. It never had before and she was nearly forty. The doctors were dubious and even feared for her life. It became known that Valerie Stretton was about to have a child—and Sir Edward admitted parentage. Sir Edward wanted a son—legitimate if possible—but he wanted a son. There were two chances of getting one and Valerie Stretton seemed the more likely one. He was always a law unto himself. He snapped his fingers at local scandal and no one dared oppose him—not even Lady Crediton who was furious that her lady’s maid should be kept in the house. But Sir Edward always had his way—even with her ladyship. The strange thing was that her ladyship was brought to bed only two days after Valerie Stretton had given birth. Sir Edward was wild with joy because his mistress had had a healthy boy; he’d got his son. And a few days later Lady Crediton’s boy was born. He’d got two sons, but he wasn’t going to lose one of them. Sir Edward, they said, tried for everything and that was why he had got such a great deal. He wanted his
wife and his mistress; and what Sir Edward wanted was done. So the two boys were to be brought up in the Castle and Sir Edward doted on both of the boys, though of course he was very strict with them. He was always talking about “my sons.” Valerie Stretton’s was christened Redvers, but Lady Crediton wanted everyone to know who was the important one, so her baby was christened Rex—the King. Rex would inherit the business; but Master Red would be very well looked after; he’d have a share…a minor one of course; and Red was all for going away to sea and Rex was all for juggling with money. So they were different in their ways. But Rex is the Crediton. I wonder Sir Edward didn’t make Redvers change his name too. I’ve heard that if anything should happen to Rex…”

  “You mean if he died?” I said.

  She looked rather shocked. Death was “anything happening”—I must remember that.

  “If anything happened to Rex,” she said firmly, “why Redvers would be the heir.”

  “It’s all very interesting,” I said.

  She admitted it. “My mother was here, you see, before the boys were born. She often talked of what happened. I remember her talking about the day the ship was launched. It was quite a to-do—launching the ships. Sir Edward saw that it was done in the proper way because he used to say it was good for business. He wanted everyone to know that the Lady Line had added to its power.”

  “Naturally,” I said soothingly.

  “All the ships as you know are ladies. And Lady Crediton was going to name this one. It was all arranged; she was going to break a bottle of champagne on the side as they do, you know. They had decided to name the ship The Lucky Lady or something like that. The day before the launching there had been trouble at the Castle. Her ladyship had discovered Sir Edward’s feelings for Valerie Stretton and what was going on. She was most upset. She knew his tendencies, but that it should be in the Castle…right under her very nose you might say…made her very angry. She wanted to dismiss Valerie Stretton but Sir Edward wouldn’t hear of it. Oh yes, there was a rare to-do that day. And the next she went out to name the ship and when they all expected her to say ‘I name this ship The Lucky Lady’ or whatever it was, she said instead, ‘I name this ship The Secret Woman.’ Defiance you see!”