Victoria Holt (31 page)

“We did our best, though we never succeeded in producing a genius ourselves.”

“Fiona sings very nicely and Eugenie has quite a talent for drawing. Miss Eccles says she is very good. Come into my study, Sir Jason, and we can discuss the seating there. Miss Barston was saying she wanted to see you, Miss Grant. Some muddle about the monks’ robes. Something is missing, I think.”

It was dismissal so I said: “I’ll go to see her at once.”

Jason gave me a rueful look and I went away leaving them together.

I found Miss Barston quite distressed.

“One of the monks’ robes is missing.”

“It must be somewhere.”

“Well, I’ve searched. I’ve questioned the girls. Nobody knows anything about it.”

“You had twelve, didn’t you?”

“I did and now there are only eleven. You count them.”

She was right. There were only eleven.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do. There’ll only be eleven monks. At this late hour…”

“It must be somewhere,” I said. “It can’t just disappear.”

“But it has, Miss Grant. I cannot understand it.”

“Do you think someone’s playing a trick?”

“A trick! At this late hour. If I cannot find that costume there’ll only be eleven monks.”

“That won’t make much difference.”

“It means one of the girls will have to stand down. Which one? Of course, Janet Mills hasn’t much of a voice…I only put her in because she is tall and the costumes are man-size.”

“We’d better see if we can find that robe.”

“Miss Grant, if you can think of anywhere to look, please tell me. I’ve done everything.”

“If we can’t find it, there’ll just have to be eleven. We have to accept that.”

“Oh dear, it’s so frustrating.”

“I daresay it will turn up during the day.”

I left Miss Barston to her frustration and went on with my duties.

Later that day Daisy summoned me to her study to discuss more arrangements.

“It’s about this evening at the Hall. Fiona and Eugenie can select the friends they want to take. Miss Barston and Miss Parker will stay here and remain on duty. They don’t care for socializing in any case. Cordelia, there are still unpleasant rumors. It is most unfortunate about this disappearing lady. I know there is no need to tell you to take special care with Sir Jason.”

“I understand.”

“It is a pity that he has this reputation. A good solid older squire would be so much better for the school. You don’t seem to be quite so friendly with him now. I am pleased about that. I must say I did have some misgivings and then there was that matter of your breaking the window.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Hetherington.”

She waved her hand. She did not want to hear any revelations which might be unpleasant. All she wanted was for everything to run smoothly and in the best possible manner for the school.

“I promise you, Miss Hetherington, that nothing shall happen to give you concern if I can help it,” I added.

***

We were lucky. The weather stayed perfect. Everything seemed to go smoothly, and that which would have been an ordinary amateur performance, by moonlight among the ruins had a special magic.

The girls’ voices sounded young and innocently beautiful in the night air; they evoked the scene of the building, the rise of the Abbey and the rumbling of disaster; the King’s break with Rome, his need for money, the tempting riches of the abbeys and then the Dissolution.

I looked round at the audience. An impressive one. The ladies from the Hall in their shimmering evening gowns, the men’s black and white dignity, and Jason in their midst, more distinguished looking than any, I thought; and our own mistresses in their gowns made for the occasion might seem less glorious than those of the Hall, but charming nonetheless; and in the center of the front row—Jason on her right and Lady Sowerby on her left (Lady Sowerby had two girls who were coming up to the age when the Academy would be the best place for them)—sat Daisy herself in a gown of pale gray satin with gold chains about her neck and a little pearl watch pinned to her bosom, looking magnificent and in complete control.

Seated cross-legged on the grass were the younger girls, for there had not been enough chairs to accommodate all the people and in any case they could see better and were young enough not to mind the discomfort. I was touched to see their wondering faces as they listened to the account of the monastery’s beginnings and I saw how they caught their breath when the monks came walking from the ruined nave.

As I watched them slowly wending their way through the ruins, I remembered suddenly the drama of the lost robe and I counted them. Twelve. So Miss Barston must have found it.

This was indeed an impressive scene. It was so realistic. It was as though the past had really come to life. One forgot these were ruins. The Abbey was alive again and these were its inhabitants on the way to compline. Even the most blasé of Jason’s guests were affected and the applause after the first act was genuine.

Then there was the Elizabethan scene with Mr. Crowe playing a lute and the girls dancing Tudor dances and singing madrigals. We had the voices explaining how this was the age of revival. The Manor House had been built and some of the stones from the Abbey had been used in its construction. So the Hall and Abbey were united as they had been through the ages, and as tonight clearly showed.

There was more applause.

And then came the final scene. The reconstruction of the Lay Brothers’ Frater and Dorter, the founding of the Academy. Then we had the dancing—Sir Roger de Coverley and Jenny Pluck Pears—in which all the girls who had not taken the part of monks or Elizabethan courtiers could perform. Finally there was the school song…

During Sir Roger I had noticed Janet Mills seated on the grass. I stared at her. But the monks were still in their robes, waiting to come in at the end and take their bow. I had counted twelve. I must have been mistaken. No one else would have taken Janet’s place at such short notice. She was only being left out because there was no costume for her. I must have made a mistake. There could only have been eleven.

The school song had ended. The applause rang out and all the performers came out to take their bows. First the Elizabethans—eight of them; and then the monks came out from the nave chanting as they had during the performance. They came and stood on the grass facing us. I counted them. Eleven. How strange! I had counted twelve when they were performing. It must have been an illusion.

There was no doubt of the success of the evening. Wine was served with light refreshments and the guests walked about the ruins mingling with the monks and the Elizabethans, all flushed and excited with their recent success, declaring to each other that there had never been such an evening.

I heard one bejeweled lady proclaim in audible tones that it was delightful, quite enchanting. She had never seen anything like it and wasn’t Jason an angel to have arranged such an enchanting surprise for them all.

Daisy was in her element. The evening had been more successful than she had anticipated; she was delighted with the company and she was sure it would result in more pupils, for Jason had told her that he had made sure to invite several fond parents, and she must have seen by the appreciation and applause that they were delighted with what had taken place.

She came to congratulate me on the descriptive passages. “So moving,” she said. “So inspiring.” I glowed with pleasure. “I’d like to get the girls in soon,” she went on. “I don’t like them running about among the guests. You never know. They are at such a difficult age…some of them. I think it would be a good idea if you and some of the others rounded them up and let them know that I would like them to go to their rooms quietly. They will, I have no doubt, watch from their windows, but we have to turn a blind eye to that. I have already sent the younger ones to bed. It is the monks and the Elizabethans I want to get in.”

“I will do what I can.”

I found three of the Elizabethans who went off docilely. The monks were older girls and not so easy to find. I could see two of them talking to some of the guests from the Hall and decided to leave them for the time being. Then I saw one of the monks by herself making her way to the nave. I started after her but as soon as she was out of sight of the company, she started to run. She was making her way toward the sanctuary and the chapel of five altars.

I quickened my pace. Now she was stepping carefully across the flags; she was entering the chapel and as she did so, a tall figure in a monk’s robe came out to meet her.

I called out: “You two there. You are to go to your bedrooms. Miss Hetherington’s orders.”

For a few seconds they stood as though petrified. They were so still that they might have been part of the stones around them. Then suddenly the taller of the two seized the other by the hand and dragged her away. They did not have to pass me because there were no walls to the chapel; all they had to do was pick their way over the stones.

“Come here,” I called.

But they were running as though their lives depended on it. The hood of one of them fell back and disclosed the flaxen hair of Fiona Verringer.

“Fiona,” I called. “Come back. Come back, both of you.”

They ran on. They ran into the kitchens, and the tunnels, I believed, were very close.

I sighed. Fiona was changing. She used to be quite a good girl. Could the one with her be Charlotte Mackay? It looked to be someone taller, though Charlotte was tall and she might have been standing on a higher level.

I went back to the company to look for more performers who were to be sent to their beds.

It was after midnight before the company dispersed and those who had devised the Pageant stood with Miss Hetherington to receive the thanks and congratulations from the departing guests. Then the carriages took them back to the Hall.

I must make my rounds of the bedrooms in my care before I went to bed. When I went to Fiona’s room I remembered that she had run away when I called her…she and another.

She lay in her bed presumably asleep, her golden hair streaming over the pillow. She looked angelic.

“Are you asleep?” I asked.

There was no answer from Fiona.

Eugenie said: “I’m not. Fiona is. She was very tired.”

I could wake her, of course, to reprimand her, but I decided to speak to her in the morning. It really was perverse of her to run away like that.

Well, they were all safe. Most of them were awake and whispering together about the evening.

What could one expect on such a night.

***

The next day everyone was talking about the visit to the Hall. Mademoiselle had a beautiful ball gown which she said came from Paris.

“We can’t match that,” said Eileen Eccles. “Plymouth is the nearest I can get to high fashion.”

“We should have had more warning,” said Fräulein.

“An invitation which comes unexpectedly is more exciting,” replied Mademoiselle.

Miss Parker and Miss Barston were greatly relieved that they had been selected to stay behind, so everyone was very satisfied with the arrangements.

I had debated what I would wear. Aunt Patty had advised me to take two evening dresses with me. She had said there were always the odd functions and I never knew what I should need. “One subdued and one startling, my dear. You can’t go wrong in that.”

I decided I had no wish to look subdued so I chose the startling gown which was rather low cut and in an unusual bluish-green shade. It was made of chiffon and it had a closely fitted tucked bodice and a skirt which billowed out from the waist.

“There’s an air of simplicity about it,” Aunt Patty had said, “and oddly enough that makes it startling. You’d be the belle of the ball in that no matter where you were.”

A comforting remark on an occasion when I was going to be among the wealthy.

My gown was approved of by all in the calefactory and even Daisy—herself resplendent in mauve velvet—complimented me on its good taste.

Emmet was taking some of us to the Hall and Sir Jason was sending his carriage for the others; there might have to be two journeys for it seemed unlikely that we could all crowd into two carriages.

Fiona and Eugenie had gone over in the afternoon because as Daisy said it was their home and they were part hostesses. It would be good practice for the future. I was to go with Emmet and some of the mistresses.

About an hour before Emmet was due I was putting the last touches to my appearance when Elsa came in; she gave me that conspiratorial smile she always bestowed on me and which I think was meant to remind me of our days at Schaffenbrucken.

“You do look nice,” she said. “I’ve got this for you.”

She produced a letter.

“At this time of the day,” I said, surprised.

“The post came at the usual time but with all the fuss going on it was forgotten. I’m only just taking the letters round.”

I said: “Everything’s been topsy-turvy today.”

I took the letter and she hovered. With anyone else I should have given a cool word of dismissal, but it was different with Elsa. It always had been because of memories of the past.

“Well, I hope you enjoy tonight.”

It was almost as though she were waiting for me to open the letter.

I put it down and turned to the mirror.

“Well…have a good time…”

As soon as she was gone I picked up the envelope. I looked hard at it because my name and address were in block capitals. The postmark was Colby. Who could have been writing to me from there? I slit the envelope. There was one piece of paper inside and the same block letters were used. The words sprang out and hit me like a blow:

WHERE IS MRS. MARTINDALE?

DON’T THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH MURDER.

YOU ARE BEING WATCHED.

I felt as though I were dreaming. I turned the paper over in my hands. Just an ordinary sheet of plain paper. I looked at the printing. Anyone could have done that. It was obviously written like that to disguise handwriting. I looked at the envelope again. The same printing. The Colby postmark. What did it mean? Some malicious person was suggesting that I had either killed Marcia Martindale or had had a hand in it.