Voices in a Haunted Room

by Philippa Carr

  She would certainly find Jonathan a charming husband, I thought, until she discovered his true nature.

  He had not changed at all. He was daring, completely without restraint, defying conventions as he had always done when he contrived to be alone with me.

  The babies were sleeping in the garden in their carriage just as they had been on the day Jessica had disappeared. Grace Soper and her niece were sitting near the carriage and my mother was there talking to them.

  I was gathering some of the autumn flowers. I had some purple asters and Michaelmas daisies in my basket and as I was cutting them Jonathan came and stood beside me.

  “What joy to see you again, Claudine,” he said. “I have missed you.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, lightly snipping at a Michaelmas daisy.

  “Indeed it is. Should I say so if it were not so?”

  “You might,” I replied.

  “Are you pleased to see me here?”

  “My mother likes to have the entire family gathered together under one roof.”

  “What a way you have for parrying the question. You should be in Parliament… or in the diplomatic service. Claudine, you do miss me sometimes. Come on. Tell the truth.”

  “Not often,” I lied.

  “Do you tell falsehoods to yourself as well as to me?”

  I said sharply: “Enough of this. You are a married man. I am a married woman—and we are not married to each other.”

  He burst out laughing and my mother looked up and smiled in our direction.

  “I am me and you are you,” he said. “Nothing can alter that, my love.”

  I replied almost pleadingly: “Jonathan, it is wrong of you to talk like this—and you so newly married. What if Millicent heard you? I thought she looked so happy.”

  “She is happy. Is she not married to me? I tell you, Claudine, I am the very model of a husband.”

  “On the surface,” I said. “You do not seem to fit the description at this moment.”

  “And who is to blame for that?”

  “You are to blame.”

  “Not entirely. I share the blame with you.”

  I was angry. I had tried so hard to forget what had happened and he only had to look at me to remind me. I despised my weakness in the past, and it was particularly shameful because I could so easily fall into temptation again. I vigorously snapped a stem.

  “Don’t blame the daisies for fate, Claudine,” he said. “Poor little starry creatures. It is not their fault that you and I were meant for each other and that you discovered it too late. But you should be grateful. You would never have known how perfect a relationship can be… but for the time you spent with me.”

  “I have never known real peace since.”

  “Poor Claudine. You would have gone on living in ignorance, contented perhaps in a mild cosy way… never really living. Safe in your little paradise, never venturing into the real world… the world of passion and adventure and the excitement which comes from living life to the full. Into your self-made paradise, walled in with the security of cosy unawareness, came the serpent one day and tempted you to eat of the tree of knowledge… and this you did. You tasted the true joy of living… and ever since you have been afraid… afraid to live… afraid to love… You know this and you long to escape to me… You won’t admit it. But I know it and so do you… in your secret thoughts.”

  “I must go in,” I said.

  “Retreat is a symbol of defeat.”

  I turned to face him. “I am trying to forget that ever happened.”

  “You never will.”

  “Jonathan, I am going to try.”

  “Face the truth,” he said. “What I have said is right. You will never forget. You have tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge. Rejoice, my darling. Life was meant to be lived joyously.”

  “I want to live mine… honourably,” I said.

  And I turned and walked across the lawn.

  “Isn’t it a beautiful afternoon?” said my mother. “There won’t be many more this year. Come and sit down for a while.”

  I thought she might notice the colour in my cheeks, that sparkle of battle in my eyes which came when I had these encounters with Jonathan, so I said: “I think I should put the flowers in water first. They wilt so quickly. Then I’ll join you.”

  Jonathan threw himself down beside my mother.

  I heard him say as I hurried across the lawn: “How beautiful you are, dear Step-mama!”

  Later I had a talk with Millicent, and that again made me uneasy.

  She wanted to borrow one of my brooches which she needed for a dress she was wearing; she explained that she had left most of her jewellery in London. She knew my garnet-and-diamond brooch well… and if I could spare it…

  “Of course,” I said. “I’ll bring it along when we go upstairs.”

  When I went to her room she was seated at the dressing table wearing a peignoir of magenta colour which suited her. Her dark hair was loose and she looked so much prettier than she used to.

  “That’s what I wanted,” she said. “Thank you, Claudine.”

  I hesitated. This was the room which they shared legitimately. I thought of that other room… dusty blue curtains and the mysterious voice which had come to me through the speaking tube.

  I did not want to think about Millicent and Jonathan together. I could imagine so much so vividly. I felt a frustrated anger as I looked at her. I had to admit that I was jealous. What was the use of pretending that I did not care for him, that I wanted to forget? No. I wanted to remember. I wanted to dream about those days when I had forgotten my marriage vows, when I had behaved so wantonly and been so happy.

  It was no use deceiving myself. Whatever he was, I wanted him. Did I love him? Who could truly define love? I loved David. I would have done a great deal not to hurt him. There were times when I hated myself for what I had done. But if feeling wildly excited, that the world was a delightful place and that I had so much to learn of many things which I wanted him to teach me… if that was love… then I loved Jonathan.

  She had picked up the garnet brooch and held it against her peignoir.

  “It’s very pretty,” she said. “So kind of you, Claudine.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m glad you like it.”

  “One can’t take all one’s things when travelling.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And we left in rather a hurry. That’s how it always seems with Jonathan.” She smiled indulgently.

  “Yes, I supposed so. You look… very happy.”

  “Oh, I am. I never dreamed…” She was smiling, looking back, I imagined… thinking of their being together.

  “Well, that is how it should be,” I said, trying to speak in a cool matter-of-fact way.

  “Some people think it was a marriage of convenience.”

  “You mean… you and Jonathan?”

  She nodded. “Well, the parents were rather pleased.”

  “Yes, it was what they hoped for on both sides.”

  “You would have thought… in the circumstances… But it was not at all like that.”

  “It is good that you have found such happiness.”

  “In a way,” she said, “it is a sort of challenge.”

  “You mean marriage. I suppose it often is.”

  “Not in the same way. You and David… Well, David is quite different from Jonathan, isn’t he? And twins are supposed to be so much alike. But they are opposites. No one could be less like Jonathan than David. What I mean is… you always know what David is going to do.”

  I said rather formally: “One always knows that David will do what he considers to be right.”

  “People have different ideas. Right to one might be wrong to another.”

  “Oh come… there are certain standards.”

  “I know what you mean. But David is predictable and I think that Jonathan must be the least predictable person on earth.”

  “And you prefer unpredictabili
ty?”

  She lifted a hairbrush and began brushing her hair, smiling secretly at her reflection in the mirror.

  “Of course. It makes life an adventure… a challenge. You will be sure of David. I shall never be sure of Jonathan.”

  “And you want… to be unsure?”

  “I have no help for it. That is Jonathan’s way. David will always be the faithful husband.”

  I could not resist saying: “And you think Jonathan will not be… and you find that challenging… adventurous?”

  She turned to me and nodded slowly; her eyes glittered in the candlelight.

  “He will have his little affaires de coeur. He always has and marriage will not stop him. I understand that. They will make him all the more ready to come back to me.”

  I was astounded and I showed it. “I should have thought you were the last one to… er…”

  “To be accommodating, to turn a blind eye to a husband’s misdemeanours?”

  “Your mother…”

  “Everyone compares me with my mother. I know I’m like her in a way. I am sure she never had to deal with the situation we are discussing. My father is a very moral gentleman.”

  “Perhaps your mother would never allow him to be otherwise.”

  I knew I ought to take my leave for I had a feeling that there was something dangerous about this conversation.

  “My father and Jonathan are poles apart.”

  “I am sure they are.”

  “And my methods will be quite different from hers. No man of spirit would be so completely subdued as poor dear Papa is. I think he is fond of her in a way. He is a very gallant gentleman and I love him dearly.”

  “It is always pleasant to hear of filial affection.”

  “You are quite amusing, Claudine… sometimes so formal. I suppose that is the French in you. Oh yes, I shall know how to manage my life.”

  “I am sure you will be very good at it.”

  “So… I shall accept what has to be accepted. I shall countenance the little love affairs. It would only be if there was something greater—”

  I felt my heart beginning to beat very fast. For a moment I wondered whether Jonathan had told her of his relationship with me. Surely he could not have done so. But who could say with Jonathan? Hadn’t she herself described him as unpredictable?

  “If I thought I had a really serious rival, I could…” She hesitated and one of the candles spluttered and went out.

  There was a brief silence which seemed eerie. I felt uncertain and had a great desire to escape from the room with its elaborate curtained bed, a desire to escape from the visions which kept coming into my mind.

  “These candles!” she said. “They are always doing that. I shall complain that they do not make them properly now. Never mind. There is enough light.” She put her face close to the mirror and the reflection looked back at me. “What was I saying?” she went on. “If there was someone who was not a light o’ love… someone important to him, do you know, Claudine, I think I should hate her so much… that I would be tempted to kill her.”

  I shivered.

  She said: “It’s a little chilly in here. I’ll ring for the maid and ask her to build up the fire. Well, we are into autumn now.”

  “I must go and get dressed.”

  “Thank you for the brooch.”

  I hurried out, thinking: Is it possible that she knows? Is she warning me? She had said: “I would be tempted to kill her.”

  In that moment her reflection had looked wicked, ruthless.

  Yes, I said to myself. I believe she would.

  I was relieved when they left, although the days seemed empty and colourless.

  I went over to see Aunt Sophie, who still mourned Alberic and talked of little else. She had been deeply shocked by Jessica’s disappearance and talked a good deal about that. Any disaster attracted her sometimes I felt that, when there was a happy ending, as in the case of Jessica, she lost interest. Although, of course, there was the question of who and why; and this could involve a great deal of unpleasant speculation.

  Dolly Mather was with her as much as possible. I had been to Grasslands to call on Mrs. Trent once or twice. The first time I had been shocked by her appearance. She felt the death of Evie very much and she could not stop herself raging against the cruelty of fate and the wickedness of the one she spoke of as “the man.” I think if Harry Farringdon had put in an appearance she might well have tried to do him an injury, which was all very understandable, of course.

  Then later when I called, Dolly told me that she was lying down. She was not well and felt too ill to receive visitors. She hardly ever went out. The servants at Grasslands reported to ours that she was getting “a little strange.”

  There was gloom all round us and it all stemmed from Alberic’s death.

  David announced that he had to go to London to procure some stores for use on the estate; he also had to see our agents about the sale of farm produce. Some of our farmers had been introducing extra sheep to their land, and the wool products were requiring more and more marketing.

  My mother said to me: “Why don’t you go with David? You haven’t been in London together since your honeymoon. It would make all the difference to him if you went. Instead of regarding it as rather a bore he’d look forward to it. You have the house to yourselves because Jonathan and Millicent will be at Pettigrew Hall.”

  I hesitated and she went on: “I know you are thinking of Amaryllis. I understand just how you feel.” She winced. The memory was still more than she could bear. “She would be perfectly safe with us here. We’d guard her as we do Jessica. You know Grace can’t bear the children out of her sight. I still have to impress on her twenty times a day that what happened was not her fault. Jessica would miss her if she went. They are getting such little people now. They notice everything. Do stop fretting about what’s happening here. We can manage without you for a week or so, you know.”

  “Oh Maman,” I said, “I should like to go, but…”

  “No buts. Why, if you stayed at home because you were afraid to leave Amaryllis, I should take that as an insult to me. Amaryllis will be under surveillance night and day.”

  So I decided to go.

  We went by post chaise, which was perhaps the most pleasant way of taking to the road, for the posting houses were the very best of the inns, and although those who travelled this way paid highly for it, it was well worthwhile to enjoy the extra comfort.

  We travelled leisurely with two stops on the way. It seemed, now that I was accompanying him, more like a holiday than a business trip, said David.

  I found it thrilling driving into the City, to see in the distance the bastions of the Tower and to drive along by the river and suddenly to find myself caught up in that vitality.

  The servants were prepared for us at the house, for my mother had sent a message on ahead of us to tell them to expect us. I remembered how we had come here just after the wedding—in the days of my innocence, I thought; and I was glad that Jonathan was at Pettigrew Hall. I should not have come if he had not been.

  David, too, was remembering, and we had a pleasant candlelit meal in the dining room while the servants flitted silently in and out attending to our needs. David was blissfully happy but it was at times like this that my conscience troubled me most.

  Then we retired to our bedroom—that pleasant gracious room, so different from Eversleigh—with its long windows to let in the light and the delicate curtains and Queen Anne furniture.

  David said: “You have made me very happy, Claudine… happier than I ever thought to be.” Then he kissed me and noticed that there were tears on my cheeks.

  “Happy tears?” he asked, and I nodded, for how could I tell him that they were tears of contrition and that while I loved him for his goodness, his gentleness, his selflessness, I could not stop thinking of someone else who was as different from him as a man could be, someone who was ruthless, without sentiment, dangerous… and yet who had taken posses
sion of my mind as well as my body and whom—although I deplored my bondage to him and my deceit towards the finest of husbands—I could not stop loving. Was that the word? Perhaps not. Obsession was more apt.

  I tried to shake off my melancholy, to refuse to admit to my regrets that it was not Jonathan who was with me now. I tried not to think of him when David made love to me.

  But the truth was that I was obsessed, and here in London, which was so much more his home than anywhere else because he spent so much time here, it was stronger than ever.

  I felt better the next day. I accompanied David on his various journeys and I was glad that I was quite knowledgeable about the matters which were discussed. He was delighted in my interest.

  I thought: We are so suited. We understand each other. We are a perfect match. The other… is madness. It is like a disease. I must cure myself and I can when I do not see him.

  The following day David said: “There will be little business done today. There will be the crowds in the streets for the opening of Parliament. It might be fun to go out and mingle.”

  “I hope we shall see the King,” I said. “I wonder what he looks like now.”

  David shook his head rather sadly: “Very different from that bright and earnest young man who came to the throne thirty-five years ago.”

  “Well, people must change in thirty-five years—even kings.”

  “He has had his trials. His family, for one thing. The Prince of Wales has caused him great anxiety.”

  “Yes, of course. The morganatic marriage with Mrs. Fitzherbert, and now his strained relations with Princess Caroline.”

  “And not only that. He has never got over the loss of the American Colonies, for which he blames himself.”

  “And rightly so.”

  “Well, that makes it all the more a burden on his mind.”

  Indeed it did, I thought, and wondered why I turned everything back to my own case.

  “He says over and over again, ‘I shall never lay on my last pillow in quiet as long as I remember my American Colonies.’ He does repeat himself. It’s a feature of that mental illness he had about seven years ago. I am sorry for him. He tried so hard to be a good king.”