Aunt Sophie said: “Murdered! Cut off in the prime of his youth. He was a beautiful boy, bright and merry. It made me happy just to have him here.”
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Sophie.”
“You, my child, what do you know of loneliness? You have your husband, your dear child… You are fortunate, whereas I…”
“But, Aunt Sophie, we’re here. We’re your family. My mother…”
“Your mother was always lucky. Fortune smiled on her. She had Charles de Tourville… and now this husband of hers who thinks such a lot of her. Oh, I know she’s beautiful and she has the sort of nature that people seem to like, but it’s so unfair, Claudine, so unfair. And just because this young man is pleasant and makes me laugh and I have enjoyed having him in my house, someone has to murder him.”
I looked helplessly at Jeanne, who lifted her shoulders. I supposed she had to endure a great deal of Aunt Sophie’s self-pity.
Sophie was looking straight at me. “I shan’t rest until I know who killed him. And when I do, I’d kill him… I would.”
“Oh, Aunt Sophie…”
“Please don’t try to soothe me. I will not be soothed. I lie here, Claudine, and the only thing I have left to me is my hatred… my desire for revenge. When I know who killed Alberic, I will find a way of getting even with him.”
I could not suppress a shiver. She looked hardly sane with the fanatical light in her eyes, and her hood had fallen back. I could just catch a glimpse of the wrinkled scorched skin which she took such pains to hide. The unusual colour in her face accentuated it.
I felt an overwhelming pity and terrible fear, because somewhere in my mind was the terrible conviction that if she knew what had happened she would call me his murderer. True I had not fired the shot, yet but for me it would not have been fired. No one would have known of Alberic’s secret life but for me, and he would now be charming Aunt Sophie and working for his country against ours.
I said I would have to go. I kissed Aunt Sophie and she gripped my hands.
“If ever you should discover anything,” she said, “let me know. I am determined to find Alberic’s murderer.”
Jeanne walked downstairs with me.
“That is how she is, most of the time,” she said. “Sometimes I think it is a good thing to let her go on about it. While she is thinking of revenge she is not brooding on his death.”
I shook my head, and Jeanne went on: “She will grow calmer. She will accept his loss, for perforce she must.”
I went slowly back to Eversleigh.
By the end of May the death of Alberic had become a nine-days’ wonder. At first people had expected startling revelations. There were rumours of Alberic’s having enemies in the neighbourhood; there were even suspects, though it was hard to imagine who would have wanted to kill such an amiable young man. The weeks passed and nothing happened. People watched out for Billy Grafter’s body to be washed up and there was even a wild story in circulation that he had been found on the beach riddled with bullets. This persisted for two weeks and then died down. I think people gradually began to accept that Alberic’s murder would never be solved and that Billy Grafter had been with him and they had drowned together.
My mother came to my room on her first night back from London.
“You must not let this upset you,” she said. “It had to be. He was a spy. We cannot afford to let them go… however pleasant they may appear to be. Believe me, Claudine, I’ve been in the thick of it. I’ve seen Armand come back scarcely alive after his sojourn in the Bastille… put there by spies. You can say that killed him. Then there was my mother. I never forget that, and what they would have done to me but for Dickon. Living through that does something to you. It makes you understand that enemies of the state have to be eliminated, and if it can be quick—as it was with Alberic—that is the best way. I am only sorry that you were there when it happened.”
“It was my fault. Jonathan asked me to stay behind but I went.”
“And you saw it, and it upset you. You don’t blame Jonathan, I hope. He was doing what had to be done.”
“I see all that,” I said. “I just wish it hadn’t had to happen.”
“My dear girl, that’s what we all wish. We’ve got to forget this. David says you have nightmares. It’s that, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Such a pity. But you’ve got to grow away from it. It was like that with me… after that night in the mairie with the mob screaming for my blood outside. It comes back even now. Sometimes I dream. One can’t come through these experiences unscathed. There is only one thing to do… grow away from them… that is, accept them as a necessary part of the world we live in.”
“You are right, of course. Dear Maman, I will try. I will think of what they tried to do to you. I will think of my grandmother… and then I will see that it has to be.”
She smiled. “And now,” she said, “there is the wedding. I’ve such a lot to talk to you about concerning that. For one thing, I don’t think we should take the babies.”
“No. I was thinking of that.”
“Grace Soper is quite capable of taking charge.”
“She does in any case.”
“She adores them both and they love her too. They would miss their nursery. I don’t fancy the journey with them. Then of course they would be in a strange place… and after all we shall only be away for a few days.”
I agreed with her.
Then we talked about clothes and all the time I was thinking about Jonathan and Millicent taking their vows—which he would never keep. I wondered if she would.
The wedding was to take place on the first of June. A few days before, our party set out for Pettigrew Hall, which was on the way to London—in fact it was about midway between the City and Eversleigh.
My mother and I rode in the carriage with Mary Lee, my mother’s lady’s maid, who would look after us both, and with us were the trunks containing our clothes and anything we should need. David and Dickon went on horseback and we were easily able to make the journey in a day, having set out very early and arriving at Pettigrew Hall at six in the evening.
We were warmly welcomed by Lord and Lady Pettigrew. Jonathan was already there.
Pettigrew Hall was more modern than Eversleigh. It had been erected just over a hundred years before when the great hall was no longer the centre of the house, and was a squarish solid stone edifice built round a court; and the kitchens, buttery and pantry were all underground. A magnificent staircase, which went to the top of the house, wound round a well as it went, so that from the very top landing one could look right down into the hall.
The drawing room was on the ground floor and it had glass doors through which the very beautiful gardens could be seen. The dining room, which was also downstairs, had similar views; and there were many bedrooms. The servants’ quarters were in the attic at the top of the house. It was richly furnished and there were several specimens of the Gobelin tapestry which had begun to be manufactured in France about a hundred years before and soon found its way into English country houses.
Lady Pettigrew’s taste seemed to me a little flamboyant; she had scattered pieces of marquetry all over the house; the hangings of the beds and the curtains were in the richest colours; and some of the ceilings had been painted with allegorical scenes. It was as though she wished to proclaim her importance to the world in everything she did—so naturally it would be obvious in her home.
The room I was to share with David was next to that assigned to my mother and Dickon. They were large and lighter than our Elizabethan ones and I thought them charming with their tall windows and marble fireplaces.
There would be several people staying at the Hall for the wedding. The Farringdons were of course there, being great friends of the Pettigrews; and Lady Pettigrew told us as she came up with us to show us our rooms—a very gracious gesture from such a grand lady and one which showed us how delighted she was to have us—that she was eager for us to meet the
Brownings. They were such charming people and she was sure we were going to enjoy the company of Sir George and his wife Christine and their truly charming daughter Fiona.
David said when we were alone: “She is indeed an overpowering lady, and I fancy her daughter takes after her. But I don’t think she will be able to subdue Jonathan as Lady Pettigrew does his lordship.”
“I am sure,” I replied, “that Jonathan will know how to look after himself.”
“Oh yes. You can trust Jonathan for that.”
It was to be a grand wedding. Lord Pettigrew was very influential in banking and, I suspect, political circles; and that meant that the marriage of his daughter was an event of more than usual importance. And as Dickon held great sway in the same society there would be many people who would want to attend the wedding.
The ceremony was to take place in the village church in the morning, after which all the guests would return to Pettigrew Hall for the reception. Many would come down from London as well as from the surrounding country. Ourselves and the Farringdons and Brownings were the only house guests—though perhaps one or two might stay for one night, as Lady Pettigrew did not want them to leave too early after the reception.
When we went down to dinner that night we were greeted by the Farringdons—Gwen, John and Harry—and George and Christine Browning and their daughter Fiona, who was very pretty and about eighteen I should imagine.
“Are we all assembled?” said Lady Pettigrew, bearing down on us. “Let us go in to dinner. I daresay you are all ready for it. Travelling is so exhausting. I am glad you are staying with us and not popping in and out as I fear so many of the guests will be doing. How could it be otherwise? So many people want to see my daughter married.”
John Farringdon murmured that it was indeed a happy occasion.
“And none the less so because we have had to wait a long time for it,” added Gwen.
“Oh circumstances… circumstances…” cried Lady Pettigrew, waving her hand as though to dismiss these tiresome eventualities. She was of course referring to the death of Sabrina on account of which the wedding had been delayed. “Now let’s go in. George, will you take Gwen, and John, Christine. Now, Jonathan, I am going to make you very cross. You are not to take Millicent. David shall take her and you can take Claudine.”
I felt that ridiculous emotion as I slipped my arm through his. He gave me a one-sided grin and in some way I felt that we were conspirators.
I whispered: “I’m sorry to be the reason for making you cross.”
He laid his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. “Just a brief contact such as this sends me into paradise,” he said.
I laughed softly. “Ridiculous as ever… even on the eve of your wedding.”
I was seated next to him. Millicent was opposite next to David. Lady Pettigrew at one end of the table surveyed us all as a general might his officers while she also kept her eyes on other ranks serving from the kitchens. I noticed Lord Pettigrew, from the other end of the table, watching her with a mixture of exasperation and tenderness. I thought: He is very different from Jonathan; and it occurred to me that if Millicent became more and more like her mother as the years passed, Jonathan’s marriage might be a stormy affair.
There was a buzz of conversation as neighbours whispered together, but Lady Pettigrew was the sort of woman who could not bear her command to slip even for a moment and she liked to know everything that was being discussed, and such was her forceful personality, that the conversation soon became general.
It was not long before the subject of the war in Europe cropped up and in particular the successes which Napoleon Bonaparte was achieving all over Europe.
I noticed that Harry Farringdon, who was seated next to Fiona Browning, appeared to be rather taken with her, and I felt a little qualm of uneasiness as I remembered Evie Mather.
I had not seen Evie for some time. She had been at Aunt Sophie’s once or twice with her sister, and I wondered now about her. Mrs. Trent had been so anxious that something should come of her friendship with Harry Farringdon, and Mrs. Trent was, in her way, as forceful a woman as Lady Pettigrew, and the manner in which Harry was paying attention to Fiona Browning indicated that Evie’s might be a lost cause.
“The Reverend Pollick is determined that there shall be no hitch,” Lady Pettigrew was booming from the head of the table. “He is a man who takes his duties very seriously and for that we applaud him, do we not, Henry?” Lord Pettigrew murmured agreement. “He insists on a rehearsal. So tomorrow it is going to take place. It won’t be necessary for everyone to attend… only the principals of course. But if any of you would like to step into the church, I think you might find it interesting.”
Everyone at the table declared they would not miss it for anything.
“Such a fussy little man, the Reverend gentleman. Mind you, he always remembers that he owes his living to us, and I suppose, understandably, he’ll look upon this wedding as his personal triumph.”
There was talk then about previous weddings and Lady Pettigrew went on: “Your turn next, Harry.” At which everyone all lifted their glass to Harry Farringdon and I noticed that Fiona Browning had turned quite pink.
We left the men with their port while Lady Pettigrew led her battalion to the drawing room, where she held forth on the blessings of marriage, and how happy she was to see Millicent joined in matrimony to a man of her parents’ choice.
“They have been lovers from childhood,” she said indulgently. “Isn’t that so, Millicent?”
“We have known each other since we were children.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And this, of course, has been in our minds since they were tots.”
I asked Fiona where she lived and I wondered why I had not met her before.
“We have only been in the south of England for two years,” she told me. “We come from the north.”
“That is why we have never met.”
“My father has estates in Yorkshire and he now has an interest in breeding sheep in Kent. He has bought a place on the Essex borders. He always went to London a good deal, but it was a long journey. It is so much easier for him to get up there now.”
“You like it here?”
“Oh yes.”
Gwen Farringdon leaned forward. “We have taken them under our wing,” she said with a smile. “We have become great friends.”
So, I thought, the Farringdons approve of Fiona as a future daughter-in-law. Another nail in the coffin of Evie’s aspirations.
Millicent said that she and Jonathan were going to London immediately after the wedding. They planned to spend the honeymoon near Maidenhead. “The Grenfells… You know Sir Michael and Lady Grenfell… they have offered us their place for the honeymoon, but Jonathan wants to be in London. Of course, I should have liked to go abroad. We’ve talked of Italy… Venice…”
I felt myself go cold and heard myself say: “Floating down the canals while a gondolier sings Italian love songs.”
Millicent gave her rather shrill laugh.
“That’s exactly it,” she said.
“Never mind,” said Lady Pettigrew. “We’ll soon defeat those wretched foreigners.”
“It looks as though the French are being successful all over Europe as they were saying earlier,” I said.
“Oh, it is this miserable Bonaparte or whatever his name is. What they should do is get him. That would soon stop them. It’s absurd… Those wretched revolutionaries allowed to overrun Europe. I can’t think what they are doing.”
I said, not without irony: “They should make you generalissima, Lady Pettigrew.”
Everyone applauded and Lady Pettigrew seemed modestly to agree that it would be an excellent idea.
The men joined us. David came over and sat beside me. Jonathan was engaged in conversation with Lord Pettigrew and Dickon. I saw Fiona smile rather tremulously at Harry.
I whispered to David: “We shall soon be able to retire. I’m tired.”
�
�Yes. Journeys are so exhausting.”
My mother joined us. “You look a little tired, Claudine,” she said anxiously.
I guessed that I must have looked strained. I found the situation an uneasy one. Jonathan’s cynical marriage to Millicent, and in the background of my mind was the thought of Evie Mather’s melancholy.
“I think I will suggest to Lady Pettigrew that we go to bed,” said my mother.
She did and it seemed that the others had the same idea, for after good nights were said the company broke up.
I sat brushing my hair at the mirror and from the bed David watched me.
He said: “What do you think of it… Jonathan and Millicent?”
“Oh, it’s the perfect marriage, isn’t it—uniting the family interests?”
“But that is not really what marriage is about, is it?”
“I should imagine that it is exactly what quite a number of them are about.”
“Millicent seems contented enough, and so for that matter does Jonathan.”
“David, did you notice Harry Farringdon?”
“You mean with that girl, Fiona Browning?”
“Yes.”
“H’m,” said David. “He seems to have taken a fancy to her.”
“Do you remember how he was with Evie Mather?”
“I remember… yes.”
“I thought something might come of that.”
“Marriage, you mean?”
“Well, I am sure that was what Mrs. Trent hoped for.”
“I’ve no doubt she did. Evie won’t have much coming to her and the Farringdons are rich.”
“I’m sorry. Poor Evie. She’s a nice girl. And now it looks as though Fiona Browning…”
“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that. Harry never seems to be able to make up his mind. There have been many girls like that in his life. I’ve seen it happen before. It’s serious… while it lasts… but it doesn’t last and some other charmer comes along. Harry will need a big push into matrimony. He’s that sort.” He yawned. “Come on. I’m getting sleepy.”
Voices in a Haunted Room Page 29
