Voices in a Haunted Room (15 page)

My mother was waiting for us when we returned and Dickon was with her.

She said: “I was hoping you would come in before it was dark. How did you get on?”

“The Trents were there with the key—grandmother and two grand-daughters.”

“And what did you think of Enderby, Sophie?”

Sophie clasped her hands together and half closed her eyes. “I found it very… interesting.”

“Oh, it’s that all right. None would deny it, but… as a home…”

Sophie looked at Jeanne, who said: “Mademoiselle Sophie wants to see it again tomorrow.”

“Oh,” said my mother, “so you weren’t completely put off.”

Sophie shook her head emphatically.

“So you will go tomorrow,” went on my mother. “Will you go with them, Claudine?”

“It is not necessary,” said Sophie. “We know our way now and we have the key.”

“I’d like to come… unless you want to go alone, Aunt Sophie.”

She smiled at me. “Come with us then… but you mustn’t try to dissuade me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you can’t seriously…”

Sophie turned to Dickon. “I should like to talk to you about getting the money.”

“I shall be going to London early tomorrow,” said Dickon, “so perhaps you could talk to me right away.”

“I’ll come to your room.”

He said: “I’ll see you shortly, Lottie. Don’t forget we are leaving at dawn tomorrow…”

My mother nodded and Dickon went off with Sophie, Jeanne following.

My mother looked at me in amazement. “She’s surely not thinking of buying that house!”

“She seemed rather taken with it. It is a fascinating place. In a way she somehow seems to fit into it.”

“Yes. I see what you mean. I hope she won’t take it and live there like a hermit.”

“Could she buy it?”

“Many times over, I imagine. Dickon has seen the jewellery they brought with them. It really is fantastic. The Count was a very rich man, one of the richest in France, and I imagine his first wife brought more wealth into the family. The jewels are priceless, so Dickon says, and there won’t be any difficulty in disposing of them. Of course other émigrés are trying to sell what they have salvaged, but I should imagine few have such a collection as that which Sophie has brought with her. Jeanne had been hiding them for quite a long time. She is a farsighted woman; moreover her visits to the town and her chats with people must have given her a clearer view of what was coming than that of the people in the
château.
Sophie, most certainly, would be able to buy the house and live there independent of us all, as far as finances are concerned. She is delighted because although she is very welcome here, she wants to be on her own, and I understand that. She doesn’t want to be dependent on Dickon’s charity. Dickon says that Enderby is about one of the biggest bargains one could find anywhere in the country. It has stood empty for so long and it has that ghostly reputation. A great deal would have to be done, of course, but it is still a bargain. I believe certain furniture has been left there. Some of it is so big that it would be difficult to move it. It must have been made on the premises. Whether that’s true, I don’t know; but I believe some of it has been there almost as long as the house.”

“Imagine Sophie and Jeanne alone in that house. They would have servants though… and perhaps guests to stay.”

“What guests! Can you imagine Sophie entertaining? Oh, Claudine, I hope she doesn’t take it. I’ve never liked the house. I hoped it would crumble away… that the roof and the walls would fall in and birds would rest there and the rats and mice take over the last stages of destruction.”

“Oh, Maman, how can you condemn it to such a fate? It is a house, after all. I know it’s haunted. I would never be happy living there, but to condemn it to destruction… it’s like condemning a person.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“I think we are both talking a lot of nonsense… How long will you be in London?”

“As long as Dickon’s work keeps him there.”

“His work… in the bank?”

“I expect sometimes in the bank.”

“What has that to do with the death of the Queen of France?”

“These things affect finance. There is a great deal involved.”

“And Dickon is involved… and I suspect in many things.”

“Dickon,” she said with a little laugh, “has a finger in many pies.”

“Secret pies… secret even from you, Maman?”

“If they were secret he couldn’t tell even me, could he? And I could not ask him to.”

“It is all so mysterious! I know that Dickon is a big landowner and banker and is mixed up with politics in a way about which we are not supposed to enquire. But when you think of the way in which he got you out of France… well, he must have many contacts there.”

She smiled at me. “I should thank God for it, Claudine. If it had not been so, I should not be here at this moment.”

I threw my arms about her. “I thank God for it too, dearest Maman. I can’t bear to think of it. A world without you! Always be here!”

“Always here to do what I can for you, my love.”

I drew away from her; her smile was tremulous.

She said: “Then, Claudine, let us be thankful for what is and not probe into matters which we are not meant to know. I must go now. I want to make sure they are packing the right things.”

“Can I help you?”

She shook her head.

When she left me I went out into the gardens. Whenever I thought of how near my mother had come to death, I was so filled with emotion and terror that I had to be alone, to reassure myself that it was over. It’s finished, I would tell myself. She is safe. We shall never let her risk her life again. Dickon would never allow it. I was thankful for Dickon—my powerful stepfather who loved her with an unswerving devotion; he would always take care of her, and because no one could get the better of him, she would be safe while he was there to protect her.

The damp November air cooled my cheeks. It was dark now. I should be glad when the nights began to draw out, which would not be until after Christmas. My thoughts went back to Enderby, that strange house, and the voices I had heard. What was the meaning of that? Some would say I was imagining I heard voices simply because Enderby was the sort of house where one would expect to. I knew about my grandmother Zipporah, who had loved the Count in this very house, and where it was almost certain my mother had been conceived. The house had played a big part in our family history, perhaps that was why it had such an effect on me. My grandmother had fallen in love, broken her marriage vows and taken her first steps towards a violent death in a square in a French town—and it had all begun at Enderby.

But the voices? I heard them on two occasions. Were they in my mind? That girl had said she heard nothing. But she seemed a little vacant, and the laughter had been low. I hoped Sophie would decide against the house and find somewhere else. Then I should never go near it again.

I must go in. It would soon be time to change for dinner. I wondered whether Sophie would join us. I expected she would as she would want to talk about the house. On the other hand she might prefer to talk about it alone with Jeanne. Perhaps she would change her mind in the morning. Would Enderby look any less sinister in the morning light? But the aspect of houses—as that of people—was not always seen in the same light by everyone. Beauty to some was not necessarily beauty to others; the same with evil; and what might arouse in some a desire to escape from it, might be irresistibly fascinating to others.

As I passed the shrubbery, a voice said: “Claudine!” and a hand seized me and pulled me into the shadow of the bushes.

“Jonathan!”

“I saw you leave the house,” he said.

“Well, what do you want?”

“What do I want? That’s an unnecessary question, isn’t it? You know what I want. What have I always wanted? Why did you do it, Claudine? Why did you do it?”

He was holding me in a firm grip from which I could not escape. He drew me farther into the shrubbery.

“Let me go, Jonathan. I have to get back to the house.”

“You’ll talk to me first.”

“What about?”

“About everything… this situation into which you have thrust me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

His mouth was on mine. No, I thought. I must get away. I am afraid of him.

“You married my brother.”

“Is that surprising? It was expected, and besides, I wanted to.”

“You wanted me.”

“No. You asked me, remember, and I refused.”

“It was not meant to be a refusal.”

“I am in the habit of saying what I mean.”

“Not always,” he contradicted. “Do you think I don’t know? You are shaking now.”

“Because you are behaving in a ridiculous manner. I don’t like it and I want to go in.”

“There speaks the virtuous matron.”

“That is what I am and what I intend to remain.”

“Do you really believe you will?”

“Jonathan, I am going in!”

“Not yet. Why did you marry my brother? Why did you do this?”

“Because I love him and wanted him for my husband.”

“You love him! What do you know of love?”

“A great deal more than you do, I imagine.”

“There are many sides to love, Claudine. You need all of them. My brother knows more about the Greek philosophers than of love.”

“I believe they professed to know a great deal about it.”

He laughed suddenly. “Claudine,” he said. “I don’t give up, you know.”

I shrugged my shoulders; he caught them in his hands and shook me.

“Do you think I’ll let you go because of a mere marriage?”

“The adjective is most inappropriate. You are letting alliteration run away with common sense.”

He laughed and said: “Claudine, it’s good to be with you. What I wanted more than anything during those hideous months was to be with you. When I was lying in the grass at night with the stars overhead and the knowledge that the next day could be my last, I thought of you there with me, talking to me, making me laugh, and… making love together, Claudine.”

“And with the girl in the wine shop?”

“Ah, you remember her! I saw your eyes glint when I was telling you about her. I knew what you were thinking. I was only able to tolerate her because in my thoughts I substituted you for her. That’s how I feel about you. You are my Claudine. You always were since the day you came to Eversleigh… with your French clothes and your French manners and your amusing way with our language. I loved you even then. And now you are a respectable English matron, I love you even more. It grows every day and you cannot expect me to stand aside and say, ‘It is over. She is now the wife of my brother. Adieu, sweet Claudine, you are not for me.’ You
are
for me, Claudine. You are… and nobody is going to stop us.”

“It takes two to come to such a decision.”

“And when two are of the same mind it is inevitable.”

“If they were, I suppose it would be. But in this case they most decidedly are not. I think you are despicable to make these suggestions to your brother’s wife. How dare you talk about making love… if you call that diatribe love.”

“It is not making love. It is the prelude to making love. If we can’t make love within the sanctity of the church, we will do so outside it.”

“What if I were to tell my mother what you have said to me tonight?”

“She would tell my father.”

“He would be furious with you.”

“On the other hand he would merely laugh. He would say, ‘Let them work it out among themselves.’ My father is very wise and experienced in these matters.”

“And David… what if I were to tell him?”

“Ah, David, what would he say? There is bound to be a precedent for such an occurrence among the Greeks, the Romans, or the ancient Egyptians. He would consult his oracles and they would tell him what should be done.”

“Jonathan, you must forget all this. Marry. Settle down. You are more often in London than here.”

“I shall be where you are.”

“You did not think that when you lightheartedly joined the expedition to France, and just left without telling us.”

He drew me to him and held me against him. “I had to go, Claudine. It was very necessary that I go. And I had to go secretly.”

“Without telling your father even! You just walked out.”

“My father knew.”

“But he was surprised.”

“Things are not always what they seem,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, and I thought: It is the secret matters in which they are involved… Jonathan with his father. They combine spying for their country with their business affairs. Jonathan is with his father in this. I am glad David is outside it.

“Tomorrow I leave for London,” he said.

“So you are going with your father and my mother?”

He nodded.

“Secret business?” I asked.

He did not answer. “I shall be back soon,” he said, “and then…”

“Nothing will have changed here.”

“It doesn’t need to. It will be as it is now.”

“Then…”

“You want me as I want you, and I shall see that something is done about it.”

For a few seconds he held me pressed against him; he kissed me fervently on my lips and throat. I allowed myself to stay with him… just for those few seconds. I knew he was right. I had never been aware of this ecstatic emotion with David.

Then I wrenched myself away and hurried into the house. He did not follow me, but I heard his low, triumphant laughter behind me.

As soon as it was light next morning, Dickon, my mother and Jonathan left for London.

Jeanne came to my room and said that she and Sophie were going to see the house again and she wondered whether I meant I should like to accompany them.

I said I should like to and within half an hour we were walking round by the road to Enderby. It was a little longer that way, but there had been a heavy downpour and it was too wet to go across the fields as we had on the previous day.

The house looked different again in the morning light. What a strange place it was! I had to admit that in spite of the fact that it appeared menacing, it attracted me, and I was as eager to open the door and go inside as the other two were.