Miss Ellis peered with some interest through the front window of the post chaise. A circular drive with a plot of grass in the centre fronted the house, and this seemed to be the only stretch of open ground within the encircling wall; for the rest was so thickly covered with trees and bushes that the house seemed almost smothered by them. To add to this effect, the hill which their road had followed rose steeply behind the Manor, shutting off a good deal of light from it. Miss Ellis had too much Yorkshire common sense to follow Anne Horley’s example in saying with a shudder that she could never live here; but she could not help feeling that Crowle Manor was decidedly a residence for the summer months only.
The modem frontage with its white stucco and pillared portico somewhat reassured Margaret, as did the appearance of the housekeeper, Mrs. Wilmot, in a respectable grey cotton gown and spotless white cap. The facade turned out to be the only modern feature of the house, however. It had been added by a previous owner to the original Tudor building, and the only benefit it conferred inside was that all the rooms at the front had sash windows which let in a little more light than the tiny casements which appeared elsewhere in the building. As Mrs. Wilmot conducted them upstairs to their bedchambers so that they might remove the dust of travel, Margaret took note of narrow staircases and doorways, and dim, panelled rooms with low ceilings.
‘I should imagine you will be at a great expense here with candles,’ she remarked to the housekeeper. The house is so shut in, darkness must fall early.’
‘‘Tis no great trouble to us, ma’am,’ replied Mrs. Wilmot, with a smile. ‘Wilmot and me go early to our beds, and there’s no one else stays in the house of a night. Unless it might be, ma’am,’ she finished, turning now to Elizabeth, ‘that mayhap ye’ll be wanting to hire a lady’s maid to do for ye, seeing ye didn’t bring one down from London. If so, there’s a female in the village I could recommend, even though she be a Frenchie, and mighty finical in some of her ways.’
‘A Frenchwoman?’ queried Elizabeth, with interest. ‘What is she doing here, then, since we are at war with France? Unless, of course,’ she added with a smile, ‘she is an emigrée.’
Mrs. Wilmot nodded. ‘That’s it exactly ma’am. So she be — leastways her father was, so I’m told. But she’s been lady’s maid to some of they fine Lunnon families until she took ill and came here to get stout again by the seaside — which she’s done, now, I hear and anxious to go back to work. So if ye should be thinking of anyone, ma’am—’
Elizabeth looked doubtfully at her friend. ‘What do you think, Margaret? For my part, I cannot see the need. We mean to live quietly here, with little or no entertaining — and we can always contrive to do each other’s hair. There would be nothing for her to do.’
‘Perhaps not; but recollect that I shall not always be with you, as I have promised to give some time to my cousin Ernestine in East Bourne. While I am away, you may be glad of someone else in the house, particularly in the evenings,’ replied Margaret, with a doubtful glance about her.
‘Well, we will consider it,’ conceded Elizabeth, ‘and let you know later, Mrs. Wilmot. What a pretty room!’ she added, as the housekeeper showed her into one of the bedrooms at the front of the house.
It was indeed a pleasant room, with its gay chintz hangings and soft rose-coloured carpet, and the sunlight striking through the window relieving the heavy effect of the oak panelled walls.
‘I’m glad ye’re pleased with it, ma’am. The master — that’s to say, Mr. Thorne, your late uncle — wasn’t much of a one for new furnishings, but he had this room done up six years ago. We did wonder at the time, Wilmot and me,’ she added, half-apologetically, ‘if the master might have some thought of marriage in his head, for this room was done more in a lady’s taste than the rest; but nothing came of it.’ Elizabeth reflected that it had been six years ago when Uncle Giles had attended her parents’ funeral, and had issued his spontaneous invitation to herself to come and live with him if ever she should feel the need to escape from her close relatives. Could he have returned to his home and deliberately prepared a room for her against the time when she might accept that invitation? It certainly looked very much like it, she thought. What a strange man he had been!
‘Was my uncle much in the habit of entertaining friends?’ she asked the housekeeper suddenly. She knew quite well he had never been in the habit of entertaining relatives.
It seemed to Elizabeth that for a second a guarded look came over Mrs. Wilmot’s face.
‘We-ell, ma’am, not to say in the habit. But from time to time the master’s friends would drop in, so to speak, and oftentimes when he was away from home, too, though they never stayed above a night or two—’
‘You mean to say,’ interrupted Miss Ellis, in astonishment, ‘that your late master’s visitors would stay here in his absence?’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am, to be sure. Mr Thorne was a very easygoing gentleman, ma’am, and wouldn’t hardly have objected to half the neighbourhood sharing his house.’
‘Well!’
‘You see, Margaret,’ remarked Elizabeth with a smile. ‘I have not been the only eccentric in my family.’
Miss Ellis replied that she hoped her young friend’s eccentricity would never take quite such an inconvenient form. The housekeeper then showed her to her own bedchamber, which was across the passage from Elizabeth’s, and said that a meal was awaiting the ladies when they should be ready for it.
The rest of the day passed away pleasantly enough in settling themselves into their new home. An old-fashioned harpsichord was discovered in the drawing-room, and found to be tolerably well-tuned. A library that was small by the standards of both ladies turned out, on closer examination, to contain a wide selection of reading, and promised many hours of pleasure.
‘But I must not do too much reading,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Recollect that I came here to write.’
‘Well, I may read while you go on with your writing,’ stated Miss Ellis. ‘And I’m sure we shall pass many pleasant days in that way, one each side of the fireplace. Silent companionship, my dear Elizabeth, is as valuable as the more talkative kind. But I’m sure I do not need to tell you that.’
As things turned out, the contemplative days which Miss Ellis pictured were destined to remain for the most part a figment of fancy.
Chapter 13
A WALK BY THE SEA
The first few days passed peacefully enough. They awoke to a morning of brilliant sunshine, and after taking a leisurely breakfast in an oak-panelled parlour which looked out on to beds of flowers, decided to go for a walk.
Miss Ellis suggested that they might explore the grounds of the Manor, which were fairly extensive; but Elizabeth had set her heart on walking down to the sea.
‘It is not very far — less than a mile, I know,’ she said, eagerly. ‘And Mrs. Wilmot can tell us the way.’
The housekeeper, when questioned, did not recommend the plan. No, it was not far to the cliffs, to be sure; they need only continue along the road they had travelled in the post chaise yesterday. But the road was very stony and rough for a lady’s lightly shod feet, and after some distance it deteriorated into a mere track, which petered out altogether as one approached the cliffs, leaving no alternative but to scramble through gorse and bramble.
‘And there be nettles a-plenty,’ she finished, warningly. ‘But doubtless, ma’am, ye’ll go no farther than the end of the track, for ye’ll have a fine view of the sea from there, and no one wants to go too near the cliff edge, for fear of a fall. Besides, I doubt if the weather will hold for long.’
‘Is there nowhere at all near here where we can get down close by the sea?’ asked Elizabeth, in a disappointed tone.
‘Only on the west side of the Seven Sisters, ma’am, as they call those cliffs hereabouts,’ replied Mrs. Wilmot, with a shake of the head. ‘And you’ll not be likely to walk that far — ‘tis all of six mile, and the wind blowin’ in your face all the way, for it comes mostly from the west.’
‘There’s only the gentlest of breezes today,’ objected Elizabeth.
‘Ay, ma’am, but up on they cliffs it blows something
shockin’, most times.’
‘Very true,’ put in Miss Ellis, ‘and in any event, we are not thinking of a twelve-mile walk, I imagine. So you see, Elizabeth, we shall have to content ourselves with viewing the mighty ocean from a safe distance.’
Elizabeth was disappointed, but privately determined that she at least would take her view of the sea looking down from as near the cliff edge as possible. Bearing in mind what they had been told of the roughness of the route and the possibility of a boisterous wind, they changed their kid sandals for half-boots, and carried light wool shawls which could be worn for extra warmth if necessary.
The first part of their walk was certainly rough under foot, and with the sun beating down upon them and the hill, sheltering them from the breeze, they began to feel decidedly warm. Miss Ellis murmured something about turning back, but just then they rounded the hill and caught their first view of the sea. Elizabeth exclaimed in delight, and her companion realised that nothing would persuade her to return until they had approached as close to it as possible.
Soon afterwards, the stony road dwindled into a rough track which took a slightly more westerly direction in a valley between rising ground on either side. Gorse bloomed on the hillsides, and a profusion of small flowers made a patchwork of colour. Elizabeth sniffed the air with appreciation, and the scent of wild thyme came to her nostrils, overlaid by the sharper tang of ozone. Ahead, over the cliff, a seagull swooped, the sun glinting on its wings.
‘Isn’t it beautiful, Margaret?’ she said, a little breathlessly. ‘Well worth the effort of walking on such a warm day, don’t you agree? And it’s not so very warm now we are close to the sea.’
‘No, indeed, there’s quite a fresh breeze, and one or two clouds coming up,’ replied Miss Ellis, looking back at the sky. ‘I fancy we should do well to turn back now, for fear of being caught in a shower! It is never a good sign when a morning starts off quite so brightly, you know.’
‘Well, this is as far as the track goes,’ said Elizabeth who was slightly ahead, ‘but it’s only a little way to the top of the cliff, and, see, there are plenty of places where others have been here before us. The grass is short and does not look at all damp. You need have no fear of getting your feet wet. Why, who would want to build a hut here?’
She broke off as she observed a small wooden hut slightly to westward, at a point where the high cliffs dipped briefly before rising again steeply on the other side.
‘Why, see, Margaret, there is a gap in the cliffs!’ she exclaimed, excitedly. ‘Perhaps we may find a way down to the sea over there!’
Without waiting to hear what her companion thought of this idea, she set off briskly in the direction of the hut. Margaret unfolded her shawl and tied it securely about her shoulders before following. The wind had freshened, and the sky, so blue only ten minutes since, was rapidly clouding over. The ground sloped steeply towards the gap, and both ladies had to take care not to lose their footing. Margaret Ellis privately wondered if her friend had taken leave of her senses to be scrambling about in this way; but she held her peace, recognising that the difference in their ages might account for much.
The slope gradually eased until they were walking over flat ground towards the hut, which was quite close to the cliff edge.
‘It looks like a fisherman’s hut,’ remarked Elizabeth, pausing just before they reached it to don her shawl. ‘Would fishermen take out boats from a spot like this, do you suppose?’
‘I should think it unlikely — they like a safe harbour,’ said Margaret, doubtfully. ‘But I am by no means an expert on such matters. Well, here it is at last, and I hope you are satisfied, Elizabeth.’
There was nothing remarkable about the hut. It appeared to be fairly new, and had a door in the side which faced landward, but no window. Elizabeth soon lost interest in it and moved on towards the edge of the cliff. Margaret called out to her sharply to take care, but, seeing this advice went unheeded, she hurried forward herself. Presently they were standing side by side staring down at the narrow strip of shingle and sand which fringed the white-capped waters of the English Channel.
‘It’s not very high just here, but there’s no way down,’ said Elizabeth, in a disappointed tone. ‘If only we had a ladder, Margaret!’
‘For my part, it would make no difference. My days for climbing ladders have long been past — not that it was ever a pastime to which I was particularly addicted. And for the life of me, I cannot see any advantage in our being down below on that strip of shingle, which may soon be completely covered by the incoming tide! Our view of the sea is no less pleasant from here.’
‘I would like to bathe in it,’ said Elizabeth, wistfully.
Miss Ellis jumped. ‘I beg your pardon? Bathe in it, did you say? Whatever can have given you such an extraordinary notion? I must say, Elizabeth, you do not seem at all yourself today.’
‘Perhaps I am not myself — or perhaps I am myself for the first time in years.’
Miss Ellis studied her in silence for several moments. The sea breeze had whipped colour into her cheeks, deepening the blue of her eyes, and giving her a look of animation which had been missing for some time past. Margaret’s expression changed to one of affection. Let Elizabeth indulge her whims, by all means; she had been long enough studying the whims of others. Perhaps here in. Sussex she could recover some of her lost youth. There was this Mr. Farnham, too — strange that she should have met him again, although in circumstances which were scarcely conducive to a renewal of his addresses. Miss Ellis sighed; sometimes one did not quite know what to hope for. She would like to see her ex-pupil happily married; but Mr. Farnham appeared to be engaged in an occupation which required him to behave in such an odd manner, that happiness in matrimony would be most unlikely.
She was recalled from her reflections by feeling several spots of rain on her face.
‘There!’ she exclaimed in vexation. ‘I thought we should be caught in a shower! Now what are we to do? There is no shelter anywhere near!’
Elizabeth started to say that she did not think the rain would be very heavy, but changed her mind as the spots increased rapidly, and instead looked about her for some kind of cover.
There was only the hut. Looking at it from the cliff edge, she now noticed that there was a small window in it on the seaward side. Her glance sharpened; surely she had seen a face looking out from the window, hastily withdrawn as she had turned her head in that direction?
‘I believe there’s someone in the hut, Margaret,’ she said, taking her companion’s arm and turning away from the cliff edge. ‘Let’s beg shelter there.’
‘What makes you think so? Oh, I see — there is a window, after all. But I can’t see anyone there.’
‘I’m sure there was someone a moment since, though. We will try, at any rate.’
They hastened to the hut and knocked on the door.
No one answered. Elizabeth knocked again. The rain was coming on faster now, and she flung her shawl over her head to protect her straw bonnet.
‘It’s no use,’ said Miss Ellis. ‘The best thing we can do is to stand against the wall on our left. The rain is blowing from the other direction, and we may be partly sheltered from the worst of it. Come along.’
‘No, wait, Margaret! Let’s try the door first.’
‘It’s no use — look, there’s a padlock.’
‘But it’s unfastened,’ pointed out Elizabeth putting her hand on the padlock, then raising the latch.
The door opened without any trouble and Elizabeth entered. After a moment’s hesitation, Margaret followed. A gust of wind swept the rain inside, so she hastily closed the door after her.
It was gloomy inside, and it took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the poor light provided by the small window looking out on a grey, rainswept sea and sky. When they
became more used to it, they peered curiously about them. There was a clutter of gear heaped against the walls of the hut, leaving the middle of the floor clear so that it was possible to walk unimpeded towards the window. This they did, and for a few minutes stood huddled together at the window watching the dismal scene outside.
‘I felt sure I saw someone here,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It’s odd, there’s no other door than the one we came in by, and we should have seen anyone using that.’
‘I dare say it was fancy,’ replied Miss Ellis, in a tone of dismissal. ‘But I do not feel altogether easy at being here, Elizabeth. We are committing a trespass.’
‘Pooh, where’s the harm? After all, we had no other shelter from the storm, and the door was open. Oh!’ she broke off suddenly, turning towards her companion.
‘What is it?’ demanded Miss Ellis.
‘Why, Margaret, the door was open! And since it is provided with a padlock, doesn’t that prove that someone else had come in here before us?’
Miss Ellis shook her head. ‘Not necessarily. People do forget to lock doors behind them, you know.’
‘Perhaps so. But I am positive,’ insisted Elizabeth stubbornly, ‘that I did see a face looking out from this window.’
‘Well, if so, my dear, it must have been a ghost, for it has vanished into thin air.’
‘I suppose,’ said Elizabeth, lowering her voice, ‘no one could possibly be concealed behind all the clutter against the wall?’
‘Only a dwarf, for it does not reach more than a few feet from the ground,’ pointed out Miss Ellis dryly.
Undeterred by this remark, Elizabeth moved over to each side of the hut in turn, peering behind thick coils of rope, oars, planking and other odds and ends which were stacked there.
After a time, she turned away, satisfied that one one could be concealed in the hut, and raised her hands to lift down an object which she had noticed hanging from a hook on the wall.
Letters For A Spy Page 10
