Song of the Siren

by Philippa Carr

  Belle was barking so wildly that we could scarcely hear ourselves speak. We retraced our steps to the gallery.

  She was still staring at the crack in the boards and doing her best to lift them.

  Matt said: “In a moment she’ll rip that board up.”

  He knelt down: “What’s the matter, old girl? What is it you want down there?”

  Now she was barking with wild enthusiasm. She had captured his interest and she was not going to let it go until she had whatever it was she wanted down there.

  Matt looked at me.

  “I could lift up the board,” he said. “There shouldn’t really be this gap. It does need repairing.”

  I said: “Lift it up. We can get one of the men to come and put it right. I don’t think the girls come to this gallery very much. They are all terrified of it.”

  “Oh, it is the haunted room, isn’t it? Strange that Belle has selected it for her attention. They do say that dogs have an extra sense.”

  “Matt,” I said, “do you think we are about to stumble on some great discovery?”

  “No,” he said, “this is just Belle’s obsession. She can see something down there and she is not going to be satisfied until she gets it. And I’ll tell you something, Damaris, I’m getting rather curious myself.”

  “So am I.”

  “Well, shall I see what I can do with that floorboard?”

  I nodded.

  “Right. With your permission I will lift it up. It does need repairing in any case.”

  Belle was growing wildly excited when Matt began to lift the board.

  It creaked; there was a shower of wood dust at that part where it touched the wainscot.

  “Oh, yes,” said Matt. “It needs replacing. Well, here goes.”

  The board came up and we were looking down onto the dust of ages; and there, lying in it, was the object which had attracted Belle. It was a buckle which looked as though it might have come from a man’s shoe.

  Belle was making strange sounds of excitement—half whimpering, half whining, punctuated with sharp barks.

  “Nothing much to get so excited about, old girl,” said Matt.

  “It could be silver,” I said. “Must have been lying here for years.”

  “It could have slipped through the gap in the boards, I suppose. There’s room.”

  “It must have done.”

  Matt was holding it in the palm of his hand and Belle was watching it intently, her tail wagging, and every now and then she would make that strange sound which I imagined was meant to convey ecstasy. She had got what she wanted.

  “I daresay it came off a shoe,” Matt said, “and the owner of the shoe wondered where on earth he had lost it. He wouldn’t have thought of looking under the floorboards. Now what about this board? I’ll put it back. You’ll have to get it done, someone could catch a foot in it and fall.”

  “I’ll tell them.”

  Matt put the buckle on the floor. Belle immediately seized it.

  I patted her. “Don’t swallow it, Belle,” I said.

  “She’s too smart for that. She’ll take care of it, won’t you, Belle?”

  I watched while Matt replaced the board.

  “There,” he said. “That doesn’t look too bad.”

  He stood up and we surveyed it.

  “But don’t forget to tell them about it,” he said.

  Belle was still holding the buckle in her mouth. She stood there watching us, wagging her tail.

  “You’re a spoilt girl,” said Matt. “You only have to cry for something and it is yours. Even if it means pulling up the floorboards to get it.”

  We came out of the house and locked it up.

  Matt said: “Come and see my mother. She loves to see you.”

  So we went to Grasslands. Belle was still holding the buckle. She wouldn’t let it go.

  Elizabeth greeted me warmly as she always did.

  “What’s Belle got?”

  As though in answer, Belle put down the buckle and sat looking at it, head on one side, with what I can only call immense satisfaction and gratification.

  “What is it?” asked Elizabeth.

  We explained.

  “It must be filthy,” she said. She picked it up. Belle looked anxious.

  “A man’s shoe buckle,” she said. “Rather a fine one.”

  Belle began to whine.

  “All right, all right,” she went on. “I’m not going to take it from you.”

  She gave it back to the dog, who immediately seized it and moved away to the corner of the room.

  We all laughed.

  Then Elizabeth said: “It would be interesting to know to whom it belonged.” It was soon after that that we began to have one of those periods of hauntings which happened now and then about Enderby Hall.

  It was usually started by some silly little incident. Someone would see, or fancy they saw, a light in Enderby Hall. They would mention it and then everyone would be seeing lights.

  My mother said it was the way the light of the setting sun caught one of the windows, and it could, to anyone who was looking for strange sights, appear to be a light.

  However, the rumours grew.

  I had mentioned the faulty floorboard and it had been repaired, but I did not say anything about the buckle because it involved Belle and I thought it would remind my parents of the unfortunate incident which had led to the dismissal of the Rooks.

  I saw them now and then, and their attitude towards me was always a little truculent. When I asked Mary if she had settled in at Grasslands she replied with relish: “Oh, yes, Mistress Damaris, me and Jacob has never been so well served. We’m in clover.” Which was her way of telling me that it had been a change for the better and a good day for them when my father had sent them packing.

  Elizabeth said they seemed over anxious to please and were really very good servants. I noticed that the servants at Grasslands always regarded me with a special interest and I wondered what stories the Rooks told of our household.

  Carlotta had always said that servants were like spies for they knew too much about the private lives of their masters and mistresses. She said: “One should never forget them; they are there watching and chattering together, seeing much and making up what they don’t see.”

  I wished more than ever that I had not told them where I had found Belle.

  Belle herself had become obsessed by some sort of treasure hunt since she had found the buckle. She kept it with her. Once we thought she had lost it; then we discovered she had buried it in the garden with a bone.

  She had suddenly become interested in the land where she had been caught in the trap. Up till now she had refused to go near it. Whenever we had come near the fence she would cringe away from it and keep very close to us. We knew she was remembering her experiences in the trap.

  Then suddenly, when we were passing that way, we missed her. We called and called and she did not appear.

  We knew that the house fascinated her because she was always trying to get into it. And when we passed it she would sometimes sit down at the gate and look at us appealingly.

  “Oh, come, Belle,” Matt would say, “there aren’t any more buckles.”

  She would put her head on one side and give that little murmuring whine which was meant, I think, to plead with us.

  But up to that time she had never wanted to go over the fence.

  On this particular day when we lost her and called and called, Matt said: “I wonder if she has got into the house? Someone may have left something open.”

  And just at that moment she was squeezing under the gate looking rather shamefaced.

  We were astounded. It was the last place we expected her to be in view of her previous reluctance.

  She leapt up at Matt, wagging her tail.

  “What have you been doing?” he asked. “You’re covered in mud.”

  It was the next day when we could not find her at all. We were in the same spot. It was surprising ho
w often we walked that way. I think it was because Belle led us there and we just followed her without thinking very much where we were going.

  It might seem that we, like everyone else, were obsessed by Enderby.

  On this day we could not find Belle. We called and called but she did not come.

  I turned pale suddenly. “You don’t think Jacob Rook has defied my father and set another trap?”

  Matt stared at me.

  “And Belle caught in it! Oh, no! Once caught never again. She’s intelligent enough to recognise that sort of trap when she sees it. And Jacob wouldn’t set a trap. He’s no need to. He lives in the house now and wouldn’t want a hare or a rabbit for his pot.”

  “No. But I have a feeling that Belle might be in there. She has been acting rather strangely lately.”

  With Matt’s help I clambered over the gate. He joined me on the other side.

  “Belle!” we called. “Belle.”

  In the distance I heard the answering bark but she did not come bounding towards us as she would normally have done.

  “This way,” said Matt and we penetrated farther into the undergrowth.

  “I can’t think why your father doesn’t use this land,” he added.

  “He has a great deal to do at the moment. He’ll come round to it.”

  Then we came across Belle. She was digging and had made a considerable hole in the ground.

  “What are you doing, Belle?” cried Matt.

  “We must get her out of here,” I said. “My father gets really angry if anyone comes here.”

  “Yes, come on, Belle.”

  She paused and looked at us with sorrowing eyes. “What is the matter with you?” asked Matt.

  She then picked up a ragged object from the ground and laid it at Matt’s feet.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  It was very dirty, covered in mud and there was a green lichenlike patch on it.

  “It was a shoe at one time, I think,” said Matt.

  “Yes … so it was.”

  “Another find, Belle!” said Matt. “But you can’t bring this one into the house, I promise you.”

  He threw it from him into the bushes. Belle immediately leapt forward and retrieved it.

  “You’re a strange collector, Belle,” I said. “Matt, do let’s get out of here. If anyone saw us and reported it to my father he’d be angry. He hates people to come here. He’s made it strictly private.”

  “You heard that, Belle,” said Matt. “Come on. Drop that dirty object.”

  Belle dropped the shoe immediately.

  “Home,” said Matt.

  As we came to the gate, Belle, who had lingered behind, caught up with us.

  Matt said: “Look what she’s brought.”

  It was the old shoe.

  Matt took it from her and threw it back into the undergrowth. Belle gave a little protesting whine and then, realising that it was her master’s will that we went, gave in with resignation and we went into Grasslands.

  Elizabeth said: “I am going to give a little party. We’ll have charades and a lot of fun. I shall invite your family of course and a few others. I feel it is time I did a little entertaining. You must help me, Damaris.”

  I said I would with pleasure but I was not much good at that sort of thing. Parties had never been very enjoyable occasions to me. I had always been too shy, and when there was dancing I had often been one of those who was without a partner. However I had changed lately. It was due to my friendship with Matt. He had made it so clear that he enjoyed my company and we were together a great deal. We were always discovering interests in common. In town, where he looked so much the dandy, I found him a little formidable but here in the country he seemed like a different person. Of course I knew all this was transient. He would go away soon. He was always saying he would have to return to his estates in Dorsetshire and also he had commitments with the army. I was not sure what, and he never seemed to want to talk about them. I was very much in harmony with him. I think it was because I could understand his moods and respected them.

  I was brought face to face with the change in myself when Elizabeth’s suggestion of this party excited me instead of filling me with apprehension.

  My grandmother was very interested in the proposed charades. She said it took her back to the days when she and Harriet were young.

  “Harriet was very clever at that sort of thing,” she told me. “It was due to her being an actress. I expect Elizabeth Pilkington will be too. That’s why she wants to do it I suppose. We always want to do what we do well.”

  However, I was at Grasslands frequently and we worked out our charades and went through trunks of clothes which she had had for the theatre.

  It was great fun dressing up and trying on the various wigs and things she had brought with her from her acting days.

  Once when she had dressed me up, she put her hands on my shoulders and kissed me. “Do you know, Damaris, I am growing very fond of you,” she said. “I know Matt is too.”

  I flushed a little. There was an implication in her words. I thought: Can she really mean what I think?

  It seemed possible. I was indeed in love, and like all people in love I lived between ecstasy and apprehension.

  I could not believe he could love me. He was so splendid, so worldly, so much older than I. I forgot Carlotta’s mockery. I was beginning to have a different opinion of myself and believe in myself. So when Elizabeth Pilkington said that I was so happy.

  I knew my mother did not like Matt. She had a strange antipathy which I could not fathom. But my grandparents liked him—even my grandfather did, and he did not easily like people.

  So we planned our charades.

  My grandmother came over to Grasslands one day. She said all this talk about charades had revived memories. She remembered Harriet Main years ago acting in a chateau where they were all staying just before the Restoration. “You remember Harriet, Mistress Pilkington?” she asked.

  “Not very well. I did a child’s part just at the time when she was thinking of leaving the stage. That was when she was going to be married.”

  “Yes, she married into our family. Of course, you’re years younger than she is. It is wonderful how Harriet deceives us all into thinking she is still a young woman.”

  “Is she still very beautiful?”

  “Yes, she is,” said my grandmother. “She has that rare beauty which now and then appears. It is as though all the good fairies were at her christening. Your sister, Carlotta, has the same, Damaris.”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “We played Romeo and Juliet,” went on my grandmother, her eyes vague as she looked back into the past.

  “We’ll content ourselves with charades,” said Elizabeth.

  So we planned. And I was at Grasslands every day rehearsing under Elizabeth’s instructions. Matt was no good as a performer and I loved him all the more for that. It put him in the same category as myself.

  One day I was a little upset. I was in Elizabeth’s sewing room and as it was a warm day the window was wide open. I was on the window seat and Elizabeth was examining a dress which she was holding up.

  The sound of voices floated up from below. I recognised that of Mary Rook.

  “Well, it struck us as really strange like. He were so mad. Now why should he want to keep everyone away so … if it weren’t for what was there and what he do know to be there.”

  My heart had begun to beat faster. I knew that Elizabeth was listening, although she was stroking the silk of the dress as though completely absorbed by it.

  “Mark my words, there’s something there.”

  “What do you think it be, Mary?”

  “Well, I don’t rightly know. Jacob he thought it might be some sort of treasure, he did.”

  I was very still. The impulse to move away came to me but I felt I had to listen to what they were saying.

  “You see, them that used to live there … they was took away suddenly. It were
some plot. Well, Jacob says mayhap they hid something in that patch … some treasure like and he do know it and wants it for himself.”

  “Treasure, Mary …!”

  “Well, ’tis something there, ain’t it? Must be. Why should he get so raving mad just because Jacob sets a trap. They be setting traps all through the woods … they don’t matter there. Is just a trap.”

  “But there be this ghost up at the house. …”

  “You’re asking me. I tell you there’s something in that patch he don’t want people to know about …”

  They had moved away from the window.

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “Servants’ gossip,” she said. “I think this dress would do for you, my dear. I wore it in one of my young girl roles.”

  We were all excited about the charades. It was to be a sort of tableau to describe words. We should do it in a most elaborate fashion and there were to be two teams competing against each other.

  Elizabeth would be in charge of the teams, and when she selected them she put Matt and me together. Our words were “cloak and dagger” and we were to illustrate these historically. The cloak was to be represented by the scene from Queen Elizabeth’s reign when Raleigh spread his cloak for Elizabeth to walk on and I was to be Elizabeth, Matt, Raleigh. I was to be dressed in a most elaborate Elizabethan costume and Matt’s would be equally authentic.

  “I have to choose parts according to what I had in my trunk,” Elizabeth explained.

  After the scene with the cloak I was to make a few changes to my costume and become Mary Queen of Scots. Matt was Rizzio and we would then enact the scene by mime of that supper in Holyrood House when Rizzio was murdered. That would represent the dagger.

  The other team were to do theirs first. We should watch that and guess. But first there was to be a buffet supper.

  It had been one of the lovely September days—golden days. I think all days were golden to me at that time for I was becoming more and more certain that Matt loved me. He could not have stayed here all this time, been with me so often and pretended to enjoy my company. Oh no, there was something in this. I had an idea that if I had not been so young he would have spoken of his intentions by now.

  That Elizabeth liked me, I was sure. She had taken to treating me as a daughter, so surely that was significant.