The Lady and the Lake (12 page)

While
deciding
what
to
do,
I
searched
the
shelves
for
a
suitable
book
to
entertain
me.
A
cream-coloured
volume
of
Vanity Fair
caught
my
eye
and
I
picked
it
out
then
sat
on
a
chair
to
look
at
it.
I
made
a
quick
decision
to
borrow
the
book
and
look
through
the bible
before
anyone
came
in.

Turning
the
lovely
cover
I
could
see
there
was
indeed
a
list
of
family
births,
marriages
and
deaths
from
1750.
I
quickly
turned
the
page
to
find
the
more
recent
entries,
at
the
bottom
of
the
list
was
Emily,
born
July
25th
1880
to
Antony
and
Phoebe
Kershaw.

Above
I
could
see
Thomas,
born
1865
to
Mary
and
Thomas
Craddock.
So
he
was
the
same
age
as
me,
I
mused,
and
was
about
to
close
the
bible
when
Henrietta
Kershaw’s
name
caught
my
eye.

She
had
been
born
in
1825
and
had
been
born
a
Kershaw.
This
revelation
surprised
me
somewhat
and
I
quickly
went
down
again
to
Antony,
he
had
been
born
in
1855
to
Henrietta
Kershaw
and
the
sadly
departed
Albert
Miles.
Quickly
I
closed
the
bible
admiring
once
more
the
cover,
I
felt
as
though
I’d
been
intrusive
and
regretted
prying
into
the
family
affairs.

Leaving
the
library,
the
copy
of
Vanity Fair
in
my
hand,
I
thought
that
Henrietta
Kershaw
had
no
cause
for
all
her
airs
and
graces
and
sharp
words,
for
if
the
bible
were
to
be
believed
and
it
couldn’t
be
wrong
she
was
indeed
a
Miss.
For
all
my
prying
I
had
indeed
uncovered
a
trump
card.

Later
that
evening
in
my
room,
I
left
the
lamp
burning
deciding
to
read
and
be
awake
should
there
be
any
movement
again
in
the
tower.
I
read
for
three
hours,
my
head
eventually
nodding,
my
eyes
weary
for
sleep.
When
I
was
brought
to
by
a
movement
behind
my
bed,
someone
was
climbing
the
stairs.

I
slammed
the
novel
shut
and
laid
it
on
the
table.
Looking
at
the
clock
I
could
see
it
was
five
to
one.
I
braced
myself
for
the
scream
and
when
it
came
I
put
my
fingers
in
my
ears
hardly
able
to
bear
the
shrillness
of
it.
Quickly
I
slipped
on
my
robe
and
as
quietly
as
I
could
opened
my
bedroom
door,
then
stepped
into
the
corridor
making
my
way
to
the
door
of
the
tower.

As
I
climbed
the
three
stone
steps
I could
see
that
the
heavy
door
was
slightly
ajar.
This
fact
alone
caused
me
to
tremble
and
with
shaking
hands
I
opened
the
door
farther
to
enable
me
to
take
a
look
behind
it.
Thankfully
the
door
slid
open
quietly
and
I
could
see
stone
steps
to
the
upper
floor.

The
staircase
curved
at
one
point
and
I
bravely
decided
to
ascend
the
steps,
the
glow
of
candlelight
from
above
lighting
my
way.
Half
of
me
wanted
to
retreat
and
the
other
half
of
me,
although
I
was
afraid
of
what
I
might
encounter,
pressed
on.

I
reached
the
bend
in
the
staircase
and
stood
suddenly
still
hardly
daring
to
breathe,
so
much
so
that
I
clapped
a
hand
to
my
mouth
for
I
could
see
the
room
above
only
three
steps
away
and
I
could
see
the
woman
in
a
long
white
night-gown,
light-coloured
wavy
hair
cascading
down
her
back
to
her
waist.

She
was
slight
of
build
and
appeared
to
be
praying
as
I
could
hear
the
murmur
of
her
voice
and
caught
the
word,
Lord
,
twice.
I
couldn’t
stay
for who
was
she
and
what
would
she
do
if
she
found
me
there?
If
she
had
a
mind
to
she
could
push
me
down
the
stairs.
With
this
thought,
as
hastily
as
I
could
without
her
hearing,
I
descended
the
steps
and
gently
pushed
the
door
to
allow
me
access
to
the
corridor
once
more.

I
practically
fled
to
my
room,
closing
the
door
quietly
behind
me
and
looking
through
the
curtains,
could
see
no
light
in
the
tower.

I’d
obviously
left
just
in
time
but
I
knew
without
a
doubt
that
this
time
I’d
not
imagined
it
or
dreamed
it
and
as
I
snuggled
under
the
cotton
sheet
I
prayed
that
next
time
I
would
possess
more
courage
to
solve
the
mystery.