Voices in a Haunted Room

by Philippa Carr

  “Oh, please don’t talk like that about a human being.”

  “Poor little Claudine, you keep rough company, I’m afraid. Never mind. You were one of us for a day or so. You did very well on the journey. I was proud of you. Now let us think what shall be done. We shall go back to the house. I doubt Grafter will be there. I imagine Alberic warned him. I wonder what papers he was taking with him. They are at the bottom of the ocean by now. This is to be a secret matter, Claudine. You don’t know what happened to Alberic, remember. He’ll be missing and maybe presumed drowned. As for Billy Grafter, if we’ve missed him and he’s disappeared, it will be thought he was with Alberic. But let’s hope he was not warned and is still at the house. There must be no shouting the truth from the housetops. The less that is known, the better.”

  “I’ll say nothing,” I said.

  “That’s right. I shall have to go back to London.”

  “At once?”

  “Yes, the fact that Blanchard is known to be in London will cause a flutter. He is one of the founders of the French revolution. You can guess what he is trying to do here.”

  “But the revolution is over now. The Republic is being accepted by some states.”

  “The French would still like to see us behave as madly as they did. We’re enemies, remember. We’re actually at war with them. I shall leave for London early tomorrow morning. They’ll still be searching for Alberic. Claudine, you must pull yourself together. You must not betray anything. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “You have to put aside all those sentimental notions of yours. Alberic might have been a very pretty boy but he was a spy working against this country and he got his deserts. Remember that. He would have done the same to me if he had had the chance. It’s all the luck of the game.”

  “I understand,” I repeated.

  “Good. I’m now sure he’s dead. We can safely leave him. I can’t see any sign of the boat now. Oh… is that broken spar right out there… part of it? Yes, I think it is. Now, Claudine, are you calm? Are you ready? We shall go back to Eversleigh and I shall leave tomorrow. You will resume life as though nothing extraordinary has happened. You can tell everyone about the excitement of the royal wedding and how the Prince had to be held up at the ceremony because he was drunk. That’ll make them laugh. And you’ll not betray you know where Alberic is… because he is going to be thought missing… possibly drowned. That’s the best way for us all.”

  I mounted my horse and he was beside me.

  “Now, are you ready? Back to Eversleigh.”

  I explained to the servants that my mother was staying on with Dickon and that Mr. Jonathan would be returning to London the next day.

  They accepted this as normal, for the comings and goings of both Dickon and Jonathan had always been erratic.

  We were disturbed—but not entirely surprised—to find that Billy Grafter was not in the house. “Clearly he was warned,” said Jonathan. “But we’ll get him.”

  I was glad that David was still at Clavering. It would have been difficult to behave normally with him.

  I slept heavily that night and when I arose Jonathan had already left for London.

  During the morning one of the servants from Enderby came over with a message from Aunt Sophie. She had heard that I was back and would like to see me.

  I went over to Enderby in the afternoon. Jeanne greeted me. “Mademoiselle d’Aubigné is in bed. She has had a bad night. She is rather worried about Alberic. He returned from London yesterday and went straight out. He hasn’t been back all night.”

  I heard myself say in a distant voice: “Oh… what has happened to him then?” And I despised myself for my falseness.

  “That’s what Mademoiselle d’Aubigné is worrying about. He didn’t see her when he returned, which was rather strange. Do come up.”

  Aunt Sophie was lying in that room with the blue velvet curtains. My eyes went immediately to that spot where I knew the speaking tube to be.

  “Madame Claudine is here,” said Jeanne.

  Aunt Sophie looked as melancholy as I remembered her from long ago, and I realized how much she had changed since she came to Enderby. Dolly Mather was seated by the bed, a book in her hand; she had obviously been reading to Aunt Sophie.

  “Stay with us, Jeanne,” said my aunt.

  Jeanne nodded, placed a chair by the bed for me and took one herself some little distance away.

  “Did you enjoy your trip?” asked Aunt Sophie.

  “Yes, it was very interesting.”

  “I’m worried about Alberic,” she said.

  “Oh?” I answered faintly.

  “Yes, he went to London on some business for me. You know he is good at that.”

  “I know he goes up quite often for you.”

  “Well, he returned yesterday. Apparently he looked in briefly and then went out again. He hasn’t been back since.”

  “Then you have no idea…”

  “He might have left something in London and gone back for it.”

  “Without telling you?” put in Jeanne.

  Sophie smiled fondly. “He took such a pride in those London missions of his. He always wanted to do something for me and if he had forgotten something I asked him to get, he would not want me to know it. He would have gone straight back to get it. That’s the only thing I can think of. I thought you might help, Claudine.”

  “I?”

  “Well, you came to see him yesterday, didn’t you, as soon as you arrived back. Why?”

  I was caught. I had not expected this.

  “You did come yesterday, didn’t you?” insisted Aunt Sophie.

  They were all watching me—Sophie and Jeanne questioningly and Dolly with an unfathomable expression on her face.

  “Oh… I remember now. It was something about my horse. She seems to have a little colic. I had heard Alberic say something about a cure they have in France. I was so worried that I came to him without delay.”

  “You should have gone to the stables,” said Jeanne. “They might have known.”

  “No… It was a French remedy. However, the mare is better now.”

  “When you came, you didn’t see him, did you?”

  “No. They told me he had gone out.”

  “I heard Billy Grafter is missing too,” said Jeanne. “He must be with Alberic.”

  How quickly news travelled in the servants’ world. They already knew that Billy Grafter had disappeared—and it was only natural that they should connect it with that of Alberic.

  “I thought you might have seen him,” said Aunt Sophie.

  “No, he had already gone.”

  “It’s not like him,” said Aunt Sophie.

  “He’ll be back,” Jeanne assured her. “He has too good a post here to want to leave Enderby.”

  “I shall scold him, when he comes,” said Sophie. “He should have let me know he was going back.”

  I kissed her cheek and said that I would come again soon to see her.

  “Yes, do,” she said.

  Jeanne walked down the stairs with me.

  “She misses him,” she said. “He could always cheer her up. He has that merry nature and she loves talking to him. Fortunately Dolly is here. She teaches her French, you know. The girl does quite well. She surprises me. She’s quite intelligent although it is not always apparent. I just hope Alberic comes back soon. I shall give him a piece of my mind. He has no right to stay away like this.”

  “It is strange,” I said, “that she should be so taken by a young servant. He hasn’t been here so very long.”

  “She always took fancies. I was so glad that there was someone at last in whom she could take an interest. He responded to her, being of our nationality. He seemed to know just how to behave towards her. She took to him from the start.”

  I said goodbye to Jeanne and came away very sad. I seemed to have caught Aunt Sophie’s melancholy. Poor Aunt Sophie! She would never see Alberic again.


  The Suicide’s Grave

  THE NEXT DAY DAVID came home from Clavering.

  He was delighted to see me and I was filled with great tenderness towards him. I felt that having been so happy on the day of the royal wedding, I had been unfaithful to him. I wanted to make up to him because I was so fascinated by Jonathan.

  It seemed to me that there was another barrier between us: the secret of Alberic’s death, which I could not stop myself thinking of as Alberic’s murder.

  It was not as difficult to keep my secrets as I had imagined it would be. I seemed to have become adept at deception. But perhaps David was not as perceptive as his brother. I was sure I should never have been able to hide so much of myself from Jonathan.

  I told him about the wedding and what my mother had told me about the ceremony. He said that the current rumour was that the Prince had been so intoxicated that he had spent the greater part of his wedding night lying in the fireplace of the bedchamber, whither he had fallen in a drunken stupor—and his bride had been content for him to stay there.

  “It grows worse and worse,” I said. “We heard that he was about to refuse to go on with the ceremony and that he had to be persuaded to by his father.”

  “How much truth is there in these stories?” he asked.

  “My mother and your father seemed to have the impression that there was something in them.”

  “And you? Were you disappointed to have no royal invitation?”

  “Oh no. Jonathan and I went out riding. My mother insisted that he accompany me. They didn’t want me to go out alone on such a day.”

  “I should think not. There would be rogues everywhere.”

  “Yes. And we went to an inn called the Dog and Whistle near Greenwich, and there the host served us with the most excellent roast beef.”

  “So it was a pleasant visit was it?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “And Jonathan immediately returned to London.”

  “Yes. My mother does not know how long she will be there, and they wanted to bring me back so that I should be here when you returned.”

  “Thoughtful of them.” He kissed me tenderly. “I’ve missed you so much… you and Amaryllis.”

  I loved him, tenderly, dearly, steadfastly. So it is possible, I told myself, to love two people at the same time in different ways. To be with David was like taking a draught of crystal-clear water when one was thirsty. By the same analogy Jonathan was a sparkling intoxicating wine.

  Was there something strange about me? If I looked right into my mind I had to admit that I wanted them both.

  They were brothers… twin brothers. Could there be some explanation there? It was hard to imagine them as one person. They were so entirely different. And yet… I wanted them both.

  “Well, we shall be having the wedding soon,” said David. “I daresay there’s a great deal of activity at the Pettigrews’ place.”

  We talked about Amaryllis.

  I spent a great deal of time in the nursery with her. The little girls were growing fast; they looked different every day. In the nursery I could have forgotten Jonathan if every time I looked at Amaryllis I did not have to think of him.

  The day after David’s return a storm blew up. The wind howled at gale force and the rain beat horizontally on the windows. Nobody went out that day because it was almost impossible to stand up in the wind.

  The next morning when we awoke it was quite calm. The birds were singing with joy and those flowers which had not been battened down looked fresh and beautiful; damp dripped from the trees, but when the sun rose they would be dried out.

  It was a beautiful morning.

  I said I would ride round the estate with David and he was delighted that I should join him. There was so much to catch up with, he said, after his being away at Clavering.

  Just as we were about to leave, a messenger came from Jeanne. Would we please come over at once?

  “Oh dear,” I said to David. “It’s going to spoil the morning. I wonder what it is now? Ride over with me. We need not stay long.”

  I was trembling because I feared it might have something to do with Alberic, and if it were I should need David’s support.

  We were met by a white-faced Jeanne. She came running out of the house and must have been watching for us.

  “Oh Mrs. Frenshaw, Mr. Frenshaw, I am so glad you have come. A terrible thing has happened.”

  “What?” I cried.

  “It’s Alberic. They’ve found him.”

  “Found him!” cried David. “Where has he been all this time?”

  “He’s dead, Mr. Frenshaw. His body was washed up by the sea.”

  “Drowned!”

  Jeanne dropped her head and was silent for a few moments. I was trembling, wondering what was coming next.

  “All this time,” murmured Jeanne, “and we were wondering where he was.”

  “Drowned?” repeated David.

  “Murdered,” Jeanne corrected him. “They said he’s been shot through the lungs. I don’t know what will happen now.”

  “But who…” began David. “Just a minute. This is such a shock. I think my wife does not feel very well.”

  He lifted me from my horse and kept his arm about me.

  “It’s such a shock,” he said.

  “Come into the house,” said Jeanne.

  “Yes, I think we’d better, darling,” said David.

  I sat in the cool hall and the faintness passed. So they would know now. What would they do? What would be the verdict as to what had happened to Alberic?

  There was no talk of anything but Alberic’s death. It was impossible to escape from it. Rumour was rife. Who had killed Alberic? Poor innocent Alberic, who had done nothing wrong but to take out a boat for a little pleasure trip.

  His friend Billy Grafter must have been with him, they said, since Billy had disappeared at the time Alberic came back from London.

  There was an inquest. There was no doubt that Alberic had been shot at, although he had died by drowning. The verdict was murder against some person or persons unknown.

  It was terrible to have to live with such a secret. I had nightmares and would awake crying in the night. David would hold me close to him soothingly and I wanted to be beside him, thankful for his presence.

  In the morning I would try to reason with myself. Jonathan was right. The times were dangerous. I must remember what had happened to my mother and my grandmother, Zipporah. I could picture the latter going into the little town to shop in her splendid carriage with the d’Aubigné crest emblazoned on it, and coming out to the mob. Alberic’s death was a judicial killing. One should not look on it in a different light. It was logical. It was the law of survival.

  During the day I could believe that. It was at night when the hideous dreams came.

  Jonathan had come back to Eversleigh for the inquest.

  I did not attend, but immediately it was over he sought an opportunity to be alone with me.

  I said: “They will search for the one who killed him. Jonathan, what if—?”

  He shook his head and smiled at me rather sardonically.

  “They will talk of an enquiry. They will make a show of having one. But I can assure you that nothing will be revealed. That has been taken care of. It is for the country’s security, and that is understood in certain quarters.”

  “It is all so… subversive.”

  He laughed. “What did you expect? It is the very nature of the matter. How are you feeling now? You’ve not told anybody?”

  I shook my head firmly.

  “Not even David? He’d understand, of course. He’s always logical. But there is no point in people’s knowing when it is not necessary. I’m only sorry you had to see it.”

  “What of Billy Grafter?” I asked.

  “He got away. Never mind. We know what he looks like. He might provide a useful lead. And we know Léon Blanchard is—or has been—in London. I shall shortly be going to London again and when I come back I
daresay Dickon and your mother will come with me.”

  I put my hand to my head and said wearily: “I wish it would all end.”

  “Poor Claudine! Life is very complicated, is it not?”

  “I want mine to be simple… peaceful.”

  “Oh come, you are too young for peace.” Then he kissed me briefly. “Au revoir, my love,” he said.

  I was glad when he went. He added to my disturbed state of mind.

  I went to see Aunt Sophie.

  Jeanne greeted me. “She is in bed. She’s been poorly. This has upset her more than I would have believed possible.”

  She certainly looked wan lying in her bed with the blue curtains drawn back.

  “Oh, Claudine…” she said.

  “Dear Aunt Sophie, you have been unwell, Jeanne tells me.”

  “This is a house of mourning, Claudine,” she answered. Her fingers picked restlessly at the sheets. “Why is life always like this to me? Why is it that when I have a fondness for someone something like this happens?”

  “There is always tragedy around us, Aunt Sophie.”

  “For me, certainly,” she said.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “That poor boy, that poor innocent boy…”

  Ah, Aunt Sophie, I thought, not so innocent. It is amazing how little we know of those with whom we live closely.

  “What did he do? He only took out a boat… for a pleasure trip… and some wicked villain shot him. Can you understand it?” she demanded. “It doesn’t make sense,” she went on piteously.

  “It is difficult to understand, Aunt Sophie. Why was he in the boat, do you think? Hadn’t he just returned from London? You thought he had gone back because he had forgotten something. But why should he have taken that moment to go out in the boat?”

  “A whim,” she said. “People do have whims. His horse, Prince—how he loved to ride Prince!—found his way back to the stables. He must have ridden down on Prince to get to the sea.”

  “Did you know he had a boat?”

  “No. He never said. He and Billy Grafter must have acquired it between them. Poor boys… poor innocent boys.”

  I said: “It seems rather odd that they should both have decided to go out then.”

  But Aunt Sophie was not interested in why they had gone. All she cared about was her grief. I should not talk either. I should not set people speculating. Let it be thought that the young man, having been in London, was so eager for a breath of fresh air that he could not wait to take his boat out.