Voices in a Haunted Room

by Philippa Carr

  On that afternoon I was in the sewing room with my mother and Molly Blackett going through materials and discussing clothes for the babies when one of the servants came in and said: “There is a lady and gentleman downstairs, Madam. Friends of the master, they say. I’ve taken them to the hall and they are waiting there.”

  “I’ll come down,” said my mother.

  I went with her. Standing in the hall was a rather tall fair-haired man of about forty, and the lady with him appeared to be a few years younger.

  When he saw my mother the man came towards her, holding out his hands.

  “My dear Mrs. Frenshaw. I would have known you from Dickon’s description. How are you? I am James Cardew and this is my wife, Emma. I wonder if he has ever mentioned me to you.”

  “No,” said my mother, “I don’t think he has.”

  “I come from the North. Dickon has always said I must call and see him at Eversleigh if ever I was in the neighbourhood, and he would be most offended if I did not. I wonder if he is at home?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. He is in London.”

  The man raised his eyebrows in exasperation. “What bad luck! Of all the times he has insisted I call. And now I find that he is away.”

  “He may be back tomorrow,” said my mother. “But let me introduce you to my daughter.”

  He had taken my hand and was looking at me intently. “This is another Mrs. Frenshaw. Claudine, is it?”

  I laughed. “You seem to know a good deal about us.”

  “Dickon has talked of you. This is my wife, Emma.”

  She was attractive, with dark lively eyes.

  My mother said: “Well, it is a great pity that my husband is not at home. You will need some refreshment. Do come into our little winter parlour and I will have something brought to us. Have you eaten yet?”

  “We had a meal some miles back,” said James Cardew. “A little wine would be welcome… to slake the thirst.”

  “Come along then. Claudine, will you ask them to send something to the winter parlour,” said my mother.

  I went away to do her bidding and then returned to the visitors. They were sitting down and saying what a wonderful old house Eversleigh was. They felt they knew it well, Dickon had talked so much about it.

  “Have you seen him recently?” asked my mother.

  “Well, it must have been a year ago. I happened to be in London for a brief spell.”

  “I expect I was with him,” said my mother. “I usually am, but not so much now since my baby was born.”

  “Unfortunately we didn’t meet then. Tell me, is Dickon well?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  “Have you ever known Dickon otherwise?”

  “He does enjoy good health.”

  “He is the most vital man I have ever known,” said James Cardew.

  My mother looked pleased, and as the wine arrived then, she poured it out for our guests.

  “Delicious,” said Emma Cardew. “I must admit to being thirsty. It is thirsty travelling.”

  “Did you say Dickon will be back tomorrow?” asked her husband.

  “We can never be certain,” said my mother. “But I do expect him. Something may turn up to keep him though.”

  “Yes, yes. We live in strange times. You are well aware of that if anyone is, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

  “I see Dickon has been talking freely about us.”

  “He is a very brave man, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

  “Amen to that,” said my mother fervently.

  “I was delighted to hear about the babies,” put in Emma.

  “Oh, you are very up-to-date with our news.”

  “As a matter of fact,” explained Emma, “I was talking to someone at the inn. It is amazing how much people know about their neighbours. And don’t they love to pass on information! We mentioned we were looking for Eversleigh, and the babies were mentioned. Two of them in fact. That seemed something to talk about. Oh dear, I do hope we are not going to miss Dickon.”

  “Are you staying at the inn?”

  “As a matter of fact we did ask, but they hadn’t a room for us.”

  “Had they not? At this time of the year!”

  “Well, they had something to offer. Emma declined it.”

  “I’m a bit particular,” explained Emma. “It was more or less a cup board that they offered us.”

  “I know the accommodation is not very good,” said my mother, “but there is not very much about here.”

  “Never mind. We’ll go on to the next town. Our horses are in your stables. Your grooms dashed out and took them. I daresay they’ll feed and water them. Poor things, they have travelled fairly far.”

  “You must stay for dinner,” said my mother.

  “Oh, no, no. Not if Dickon isn’t here.”

  “He would want you to.”

  “I think,” said Emma slowly, “we ought to be making our way. We have to find somewhere to sleep for the night.”

  My mother said warmly: “Of course we can give you a bed.”

  Emma and James spoke simultaneously. “Oh, what a relief!” said Emma.

  “We couldn’t possibly encroach on your hospitality,” said James.

  “Nonsense,” replied my mother. “We have plenty of room. There is no one staying here at the moment. Dickon would be put out if we let you go. Besides, he will probably be back tomorrow. You can catch him if you don’t leave too early.”

  They were beaming their satisfaction.

  “Will you go and see about it right away, Claudine?” asked my mother.

  I said I would and went to the servants’ hall, where I told them that we had visitors and that a room was to be prepared.

  “The bed is made up in the red room, Mrs. Frenshaw,” said one of the maids. “I’ll light a fire and put the warming pan in the bed. That’s all that will be needed.”

  I went to the nursery to look at the babies. They were fast asleep in their cots, which stood side by side. I had a word with the nurse, who told me that Jessica had had a little tantrum earlier, but that Amaryllis had been as good as gold.

  “Such a contented baby, Mrs. Frenshaw. Madam Jessica is of a fiery nature.”

  “Can you tell so soon?” I asked.

  “Oh yes, indeed you can. They start to show their natures almost as soon as they are born.”

  I stooped and kissed the little faces—Amaryllis pink and white, Jessica dark-haired. Her eyes were fast shut but they were deep blue like my mother’s.

  I felt contented as I always did when all was well in the nursery, and I told the servants in the kitchen to lay two more places for dinner.

  They were entertaining company, James and Emma Cardew. They talked knowledgeably about affairs, the state of the country and what was happening across the water. But my mother soon changed the subject—of which we had far too much when Dickon and Jonathan were home—and turned the talk to more domestic matters. Emma told us about her children; she had two, a boy and a girl, and their ages were fourteen and sixteen. The son would take care of their estate in Yorkshire when he was old enough; at the moment they had an excellent manager. James and Emma paid visits to London occasionally when they made arrangements for the sale of their wool.

  David was interested and asked a good many questions and so the evening passed pleasantly.

  “Meeting new people is always stimulating,” said my mother when we had taken our guests to the red room, which looked cosy with its red velvet curtains drawn to shut out the weather, and a fire blazing in the grate.

  In our bedroom David and I talked about the guests.

  “I gather their money comes mostly from sheep,” he said. “They would be big farmers, I imagine.”

  “They seemed to know a great deal about us,” I commented. “I wonder if they keep a dossier of all their friends.”

  “They seemed the kind who would be interested in people.”

  “I’m surprised that your father talked so much about us all. It is the last thing
I would have expected him to do.”

  “Oh, he has changed a lot since he married your mother. But I do agree, it would be unlike him to talk a lot about the family. I hope he gets back tomorrow.”

  “They’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t.”

  David was thoughtful for a moment; then he said: “I hear that the war is going to be over soon.”

  “Do you think the French are going to beat the allies?”

  “What with Tuscany making peace and Sweden acknowledging the Republic, I hope we are not going to be left fighting on our own. I think it must end soon, and when it does, Claudine, you and I will have that promised honeymoon. Italy! I long to see Herculaneum.” He put his arm about me. “In the meantime, my dearest, you will have to put up with an extended honeymoon, here in Eversleigh.”

  “Honeymoons are to start married life with. We are no longer beginners.”

  “I love you more than I ever did.”

  He held me close to him and it was all I could do to stop myself crying out: “I don’t deserve it.” I felt I should never rid myself of this burden of guilt as long as I lived.

  And later, when there should have been perfect intimacy between us, I kept thinking of a gondolier singing Italian love songs, and as we floated down the canal my company was not David but Jonathan.

  In the morning, as I passed through the hall, I noticed that the silver punch bowl, which always stood in the centre of the big table, was not there.

  David and I went to the dining room.-My mother was already seated.

  She said: “Oh hello, my dears. Our guests are not up. They must have been tired out. Travelling can be so exhausting!”

  “They didn’t seem exhausted last night,” commented David.

  “What’s happened to the punch bowl?” I asked.

  “Oh, you noticed too. I expect they’ve taken it to the kitchen to clean it.”

  While we were eating one of the servants came in.

  “Something awful’s happened, M’am,” she said. “I think we’ve been broken into.”

  “What?” cried my mother.

  “Cook has noticed there’s things missing from the hall. Silver and things…”

  “The punch bowl!” I cried.

  We went into the hall. Several of the servants were there.

  “It must have been vagrants,” said my mother. “How could they have got in? Who locked up?”

  “The doors were all locked last night,” said the butler quickly. “I always see to that myself. And this morning the doors were shut but unbolted. I couldn’t understand it.”

  “Extraordinary!” said my mother. “What could have happened? Did anyone hear anything in the night?”

  Nobody had.

  “We’d better look round quickly and see what has been taken.”

  On the floor leading from the hall were one or two rooms including the winter parlour and Dickon’s study. The winter parlour seemed to have been untouched. This was not the case with Dickon’s study. The door of the cupboard had been forced open and papers were scattered on the floor. One of the drawers of his desk had been broken open.

  “This is terrible,” said my mother.

  At that moment a maid appeared. She said: “Madam, I took hot water up to the red room. There was no answer so I knocked again and when there was still no answer I went in. There was no one there and the bed hasn’t been slept in.”

  We were all aghast and hurried up to the red room. The maid was right. The bed was untouched. It was instantly clear that the people whom we had entertained last night were not Dickon’s friends, but had come here expressly to rob us.

  My mother was filled with trepidation. She had welcomed them and had entertained them; and all the time she had been harbouring thieves.

  We went round the house to try to discover what had been taken. Dickon’s study seemed to have been the main object of their interest. That was what was so alarming, for there was not much of value there. It was true they had taken silver, but why overturn Dickon’s office?

  The people calling themselves James and Emma Cardew were clearly no ordinary thieves.

  It was no use trying to send someone after them. They would be well away by now, and who could say what direction they had taken?

  We were helpless and stupidly gullible to have been so deceived.

  “But they seemed so genuine,” my mother kept saying. “They knew so much about us. They must have known Dickon was not home. To think of them prowling about down here while we were all in our beds! It makes your flesh creep. And what were they looking for in Dickon’s study? Did they find it? Oh, I wish he’d come home.”

  He returned in the early afternoon.

  When he heard what had happened he turned white with anger. He immediately went to his study. Jonathan was with him. In a short time we knew that something very important had been taken. Dickon said little but there was a flush in his face and a glint in his eyes which told me that he was very disturbed.

  “What were they like?” demanded Jonathan.

  We described them as best we could.

  “It didn’t occur to us…” cried my mother. “We didn’t realize that they could be criminals. They knew so much about the family. I naturally thought that they were friends.”

  “They had their informants,” said Jonathan. “And they knew that we should be away.”

  “They couldn’t have pulled it off otherwise,” added Dickon. “My God, how far has this gone? They knew what was in my study. I’ll have to go back to London at once. We have to follow this up. Lottie, you will have to come with me. It may be that someone will know who they could be.”

  “I’ll get ready at once,” said my mother. “Oh, Dickon, I’m sorry, but we have all been taken in.”

  “Of course you would be. They would be clever enough and well informed enough to deceive anyone.”

  “They took some silver too.”

  “Oh, that was to make it seem like an ordinary robbery. It was what was in my study that they came to get. It is better that the servants should think that was the case. We don’t want them to talk.”

  My mother nodded.

  “I shall want to leave in an hour,” said Dickon.

  He with Jonathan and my mother left for London. The servants could talk of nothing for days but the effrontery of the people who had called themselves Cardew.

  To us who knew that there was some ulterior motive for the robbery, the incident seemed very sinister. I wondered more than ever about Dickon’s and Jonathan’s affairs. It had been clear to me for a long time that they were not merely bankers; they were engaged in some secret diplomatic work and of course in such times as ours such work must become increasingly important.

  They did live dangerously. Both Dickon and Jonathan were men who knew how to take care of themselves, but I guessed that the work they did made them ruthless, and of course, those who worked against them would be equally so.

  I hoped Dickon would not run into danger. I trembled to think of what my mother would do if anything happened to him.

  And Jonathan? I tried not to think of him; but he did intrude often into my thoughts.

  For a few weeks no subject was discussed in the servants’ quarters but the audacious burglary at Eversleigh, and it was talked of with equal interest in the neighbourhood I was sure.

  Dickon, back at Eversleigh, had decreed that there should be no mention of important papers having been taken and that the impression should be given that it was only valuable silver which had been stolen.

  “I believe there is an old proverb which says that it is too late to shut the stable door after the horse has been stolen,” I said.

  “Quite right,” answered my mother. “But I intend that no more horses shall be stolen.”

  “Is Dickon still very upset?”

  “Yes, indeed he is. I do wish he were not so involved. These people are dangerous, capable of anything. It worries me… but this is Dickon’s life. He always has taken risks, a
nd I suppose he always will. Jonathan is the same. I am so glad you chose David. I married two adventurers.”

  “And you were happy.”

  “My first husband went to America to fight and died there. I worry a lot about Dickon. But it was worth it. I wouldn’t have him otherwise.”

  But in due course the burglary became a nine-days’ wonder and the excitement shifted to Jonathan’s and Millicent’s wedding.

  Another wedding was to take place in April—that of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Caroline of Brunswick.

  “I thought he was married to Maria Fitzherbert,” I said.

  “So he was,” replied David, “but the marriage was not considered legal.”

  “Do you remember we saw them once at the theatre? I thought they looked so handsome and so fond of each other.”

  “Times change, Claudine.”

  “And they are no longer in love.”

  “They say he greatly resents having to marry Princess Caroline, and would not if he could avoid it.”

  “Poor kings, poor princes.”

  “How lucky we are!” said David. “We should always remember that, Claudine. We should never let anything spoil what we have.”

  “We must not… ever,” I said fervently.

  There were to be celebrations for the royal wedding and my mother suggested that we go to London to join in them.

  “We could do our shopping during the visit. We shall both need new gowns for Jonathan’s wedding.”

  I said that would be wonderful and we could feel quite safe leaving the babies in the charge of Grace Soper, who was proving herself to be an excellent nurse.

  “Fashions have changed so much in the last years,” went on my mother. “Everything seems to be so much simpler. I suppose it is something to do with France, as the fashions have always started there. This new simplicity has grown out of the revolution. I’m glad we’re rid of those hooped petticoats. They were so restricting. I rather like those high-waisted gowns, don’t you?”

  I said yes, but did she think Molly Blackett could do them justice?