Voices in a Haunted Room

by Philippa Carr

  “It is cleverly constructed. When I first noticed it I had a vague notion that I had seen something like it before. I put my hand to the hole and shouted down it. I could not hear my voice, but I knew that it was coming out in another part of the house. We were immediately over the kitchens, so it seemed likely that the other end of the tube was in the kitchens. Someone must have had it put in when the house was built… perhaps someone who wanted to send messages from the bedroom down to the kitchens.”

  “It’s ingenious,” I stammered.

  “Are you sure you feel all right?”

  “Quite sure. Do go on about the tube.”

  “Dolly was here at the time. I made her shout through the tube and I went down to the kitchens. I heard her voice and discovered exactly where it was coming from. I was soon about to find what I sought. A cupboard has been built round it. But there it was. What an amazing discovery! When I told Mademoiselle about it she wanted to move into this room. She said that if I was in the kitchens she could talk to me from the bedroom. I can see you think I have exaggerated, Madame. Allow me to go to the kitchens. I will speak to you through the tube.”

  I sat there on the bed and in due course the voice came up to me.

  “Mrs. Frenshaw. You can hear me, I believe.”

  It was all coming back: the memory of my abandonment on this very bed, the voice through the tube. It did not sound like Jeanne’s voice exactly; it was muted, hollow, in the way that other voice had been.

  I stared at the door.

  There had been someone in the house then… someone in the kitchens, someone who knew that I had been here with Jonathan.

  That other voice echoed in my mind. “Mrs. Frenshaw, remember the seventh commandment.”

  Jeanne came back triumphant.

  “You heard?”

  I nodded.

  “You could have answered me through the tube. What a discovery! This house is full of surprises. I am so glad we came here.”

  I walked home slowly across the fields. Jeanne wanted to accompany me but I wouldn’t hear of it.

  There was one thought which whirled round and round in my mind. Someone was there. Someone saw us go into the house. Someone knew.

  All through the sultry days of July we awaited the birth of my mother’s child. We were all a little anxious… except her. She had no qualms. I had never before seen Dickon in such a state of nerves. He had always been so calmly sure of himself and his ability to get what he wanted; now he was in a state bordering on terror.

  Even the news of Robespierre’s execution did not arouse great interest in him, although he had been predicting it during the previous months and was sure that his removal would mean the end of the revolution.

  He had no thought for anything but my mother.

  On the fourth of August my little half sister was born and the moment she put in an appearance our anxiety evaporated. It was a quick birth; my mother came through with rare ease; and the child was perfect. We were all sitting tense, waiting; and I shall never forget the sound of that baby’s crying.

  I ran to Dickon and embraced him, and as he looked at me I was sure there were tears in his eyes. But his first thought was, of course, for my mother, and later when I went in to see the child, he was there, holding her hand, sitting by her bed; and I was overcome with emotion just looking at them.

  They were delighted with a baby—quite sure, both of them, that there had never been such a perfect child. They marvelled over her possession of ten toes and the requisite number of thumbs and fingers—all fitted with nails. They gazed at her red wrinkled face as though it were the very pinnacle of beauty; she was everything they wanted to complete their happiness.

  There was a great deal of discussion about a name; and finally my mother said she was to be Jessica. She did not know why, but the name seemed just right.

  So Jessica she became.

  I had another month to wait and the days passed quickly.

  I was not going out now, apart from an amble round the garden. My mother had quickly recovered and liked to have me with her. We talked about babies mostly, and that meant for my mother the perfections of Jessica.

  The midwife stayed on to be ready for me, and my mother had engaged a nurse—Grace Soper—who would look after the two babies when mine arrived.

  Everything was in readiness, waiting.

  Often enough during those last weeks I had forgotten my fears. I lived in a world of serenity. I had recovered from the shock of discovering that it had been no ghostly voice that I had heard, and that a living person had actually been in the house while I had been there with Jonathan; and that person shared our secret.

  It had been a devastating discovery and one which filled me with dread, yet I could forget it. I could think of nothing but the coming of my child.

  At last the day arrived.

  My delivery was not as swift and easy as my mother’s. I suffered long and intensely and now and then the thought would come into my mind that I was being punished for my sins.

  But at last it was over and my child was born. There came that moment of sheer bliss when I heard my baby’s voice for the first time.

  “Another little girl!” That was the midwife.

  A little girl! I was exultant. In that moment I did not care what had brought her to me. All that mattered was that she had come.

  They put her in my arms. She seemed prettier than Jessica. But perhaps that was just a mother’s prejudice. She had fine fair hair whereas Jessica’s hair was dark brown. Her face was smoother. I thought her beautiful. She reminded me of a lily.

  They were at my bed—David and my mother. David was marvelling at the child which he believed to be his. My mother’s eyes were on me, proud, full of tenderness.

  She is David’s child, I thought. She is. She must be. But how could I be sure?

  My mother said we had the two most beautiful babies in the world. And what was I going to call mine?

  The name came suddenly into my head and after that it seemed the only one possible. Rather fanciful, yet fitting her perfectly: Amaryllis.

  During the next few weeks nothing was of any importance to me but my child. I thought of her every moment of the day. David shared in my enthusiasm—and I was happy.

  My mother arranged that the two babies should be christened at the same time, and she thought we might choose a day at the end of October.

  I agreed that was an excellent idea, and she went ahead making plans.

  “We don’t want a grand affair,” she said. “We couldn’t, since Sabrina has been so recently dead. So I decided just the family and a few special friends. What do you think?”

  I said that would be ideal.

  “Well, we’ll fix the date.”

  So we did.

  The Pettigrews were invited and we could scarcely not include the Farringdons. But my mother thought they should be the only ones outside the family. “Of course,” she added, “the Pettigrews are family or soon will be, but I could not leave out the Farringdons. It will be very quiet. I expect the Pettigrews had better stay. And shall we ask the Farringdons to stay for a night, too? The nights will be drawing in and it is rather a long ride.”

  The babies flourished and there was some question as to which of them should wear the family christening robes.

  I said that Jessica should, as she was the elder.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” said my mother.

  “Not in the least. I don’t think it’s important.”

  “I’ll call in Molly Blackett. She shall make the most beautiful robes for Amaryllis.”

  So it was arranged.

  It was about two weeks before the christening when I went over to Enderby to call on Sophie. She told me that Alberic had gone to London for a few days. Jeanne had wanted some special material and had sent him up to get it. “He has been up on several occasions and has done well. It is something of an upheaval for us to go, and he is there and back so quickly.”

  I sat
talking to her for some little time, telling her about the christening; and as I was on my way back, quite near Grasslands, I met Mrs. Trent.

  Her face lit up when she saw me.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Frenshaw. How are you? You look well, my dear. Having babies suits you.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “And how is the little angel?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  I was about to pass on when she laid a hand on my arm.

  “Why don’t you pop in for a little chat and a glass of something.”

  “Not now, thank you. I have been visiting Enderby and should go back.”

  “Just a little refreshment,” she said. “I did want to have a talk with you.”

  My heart missed a beat and I began to form excuses.

  “Come on,” she said. “It is rather important. I am sure you will think so when I have told you.”

  My legs were trembling and I felt a flush rising to my cheeks.

  “Haven’t been overdoing it, have you? Have to take care, you know. Having a baby’s no picnic, I can tell you.”

  “I’m perfectly all right, thank you. Only just now—”

  “Come along in. I must talk to you. I’m sure when you’ve heard what I have to tell you…”

  She was leering almost. I thought: She knows. What now?

  I had to discover the worst. If I did not find out what she was hinting at I could imagine something perhaps even worse… disastrous.

  I allowed myself to be led towards Grasslands.

  “Come on in. We’ll be nice and cosy. My girls have just gone out. I reckon they’ve gone up to Enderby. Mademoiselle Sophie has been so kind to my Dolly. She seems to have a feeling for her. Dolly’s very fond of her.”

  “Yes… I have seen her there.”

  “Nice for her and nice for Mademoiselle. You can’t have too many friends in this world, I always say. What will you have to drink?”

  “Nothing, thank you. I did have something with Mademoiselle d’Aubigné.”

  “All right then.” She had taken me into a small parlour near the hall. She shut the door and when I was seated, she looked at me steadily and said: “It’s about my Evie.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m worried about her. She’s such a lovely girl. You see, that Mr. Farringdon was quite fond of her. But nothing comes of it, and for why? Because he never sees her, that’s why. I reckon that there could be a match there before long. He’s a nice sort of young man. Perhaps a bit slow, but sometimes they’re the best sort. But he needs a bit of a push. Will he be coming to this christening party?”

  “Oh, it’s not a party, Mrs. Trent. The babies will be christened and then it’s just the family.”

  “I reckon those Pettigrews will be there… seeing as Mr. Jonathan’s engaged to the young lady.”

  I thought: She knows everything about us!

  “In a way they are family,” I said.

  “And the Farringdons?”

  “They are rather special friends of Mr. Frenshaw Senior, and perhaps they will look in.”

  “They’ll come for sure… and their son with them. I wish he could see more of my Evie. I reckon if he did he’d ask her to marry him.”

  “I really don’t know about that, Mrs. Trent.”

  “I do. If ever I saw a young man ready to fall in love, that man is Harry Farringdon. But what happens? He sees her for an hour or two and then he is whisked away. He’s fond of her all right. She’s such a lovely girl. I reckon if she was only in the right society… You get what I mean?”

  “I do, of course, and I really will have to be going if… er…”

  “Mrs. Frenshaw, ask my Evie to the christening party. Let that nice young man see her again. Oh, I worry about those girls, Mrs. Frenshaw. You’ve no idea. I have done everything I could to bring them up well—and you must admit I’ve made a good job with Evie. You see, I’m not well off… not like your family. It’s all very different for me. I’ve had to skimp and scrape. It was my son, Richard, you see. He was rather a wild one. Goes off and gets married. Then she dies when Dolly was born. And he’s left with two girls and he brings them to me. And then before Evie’s ten years old he’s gone. And Evie’s a girl to be proud of. I want to see her do well. I want to see her settled.”

  “I do understand.”

  “Then ask her to this christening party and whenever that young man is coming to you, make sure she’s there too. That’s all I want.”

  I said: “My mother arranges that sort of thing.”

  “She would listen to you.”

  “I would see that Evie was asked if it were a more formal occasion. This is really just for the family and a few—”

  “You mean the Farringdons, and if they are in it, why shouldn’t my Evie be? I know you’ll do this for me. You will when I tell you something, something you ought to know.”

  I felt sick and faint. Now it was coming. This was blackmail. She knew. She was the one who had been in the house and spoken through the tube. She was going to say: If you don’t do what I want, I shall tell.

  I heard myself say in a voice which sounded a long way away: “What is it… that you want to tell me?”

  “Oh, well, we all have our secrets, don’t we? And human nature being what it is, there’s things we don’t always bring into the light of day, nor should they be. But if a wrong’s been done… right-minded people… well, they want to be able to right it, don’t they?”

  I heard myself give a false laugh. “I don’t really understand you, Mrs. Trent.”

  “Well, you’ve got to make excuses for people when they’re young. The blood runs hot then. They do things they’re sorry for after, but it’s too late then. We should think of these things… things like consequences… when we indulge in our little bits of wickedness.”

  “Please, Mrs. Trent…”

  “All right, my dear, I’m coming to it. What I am saying is that my Evie has as much right to a good life as anyone. If she had had her due she’d be up there at all those dances and parties. She’d have a real launching into society, which would help her find someone who’d give her a good home and look after her in the future.”

  She seemed to have strayed from the point and I wondered when she would return to it, threatening me to do as she wanted as the price of her silence.

  “I’m telling you this, Mrs. Frenshaw, because I know you’re a sensible young woman. You’ve got kindness in you, too. You wouldn’t judge anyone too harshly, would you? I’ve got a feeling you’ll understand.”

  “Do tell me what it is I have to understand.”

  “It goes back a long way.”

  “Please tell me, Mrs. Trent.”

  “It was before you were thought of, Mrs. Frenshaw. It was when your grandmother was here at Eversleigh.”

  I began to breathe a little more freely. It did not seem to be what I had feared, unless of course she was coming to that later.

  “I was here with my mother, the housekeeper at Eversleigh, looking after the old gentleman. Your grandmother came and stirred things up. Then he came down… that Mr. Frenshaw… Dickon, the master of Eversleigh. Oh, he wasn’t that then. He had some place miles away… not much consequence but he got Eversleigh and a wife to bring him a great fortune. He became a very important gentleman… but I knew him when he was nothing much more than a boy. I was only a bit of a girl myself. We had been up to games… if you know what I mean… that was before I married my Andrew. Then I came to Grasslands and Andrew got fond of me. I was fond of him too… and he married me. You can imagine what they all had to say in the neighbourhood about that.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Trent,” I said. I felt that I was coming alive again. This could not possibly be anything to do with me.

  “People are not always kind, are they? They never forget, and in places like this it is passed down through the family. I know my mother left Eversleigh under a cloud. They said she was lucky to get away. But it all came back to me, didn�
�t it? I was still here. My Andrew was marvellous. He was a good man; and when Richard was on the way he couldn’t have been prouder. I don’t know whether he really believed Richard was his. He was so proud. I couldn’t tell him, could I? There’s a time to keep silent about these things. It would have broken his heart… so I let him believe and we were all happy. You see what I mean?”

  “Yes,” I said faintly.

  “What I’m telling you is that my Richard’s father was your mother’s husband.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Oh yes. That’s the case.”

  “Does he know…?”

  “I reckon he knows all right. It was possible with him whereas it wasn’t with my Andrew, and there wasn’t anyone else it could have been. But it was good for me to say it was Andrew’s child, good for Andrew and good for Mr. Frenshaw.”

  “Who knows about this?”

  “I know and nothing will convince me that Mr. Frenshaw didn’t know. And now you know.”

  “And you let me into this secret which you have kept for years.”

  “Only because I want to do what is right and proper. It’s Evie’s right, don’t you see?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Of course, now it wouldn’t matter so much people’s knowing, would it? My poor Andrew went to the grave thinking he’d got a son… but that’s years and years ago. These things settle in time. It’s just that it’s right… and I want it for my Evie. You understand me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do understand.”

  “Then you’ll help my Evie, won’t you?”

  I was so relieved that I felt drawn towards her. After all, she was only concerned with the welfare of her grand-daughter, which was very natural.

  I said: “I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Trent.”

  “I knew you would. You’d be understanding. You know how it is with people. To tell you the truth, if I could see my Evie married into that Farringdon family, I’d die happy, because I know my Evie would look after Dolly—and that’s the two of them taken care of.”

  I said I would have to go, and this time, having made her point, she did not attempt to detain me.

  It was easier than I had imagined it would be. I said casually to my mother: “I think it is a shame that Evie Mather can’t see Harry Farringdon more often.”