Voices in a Haunted Room (26 page)

“Yes,” I said. “Oh, I see you have the curtains up in the gallery.”

“It was so bare without them. They were such good curtains. Mademoiselle d’Aubigné would have had new ones but I saw that a good cleaning and a little stitch here and there, and they would be as good as new.”

“Always practical,” I said. “And they certainly look magnificent. They’ve restored that look to the gallery. That mystery. To think that it all comes from curtains!”

“Shall we start at the top and work down?”

“Excellent,” I replied.

We climbed the stairs.

“You do not find them too much?” she asked.

“Not if I pause here and there. I’m really very well… just weighty.”

“I understand. And what joy for you when this little one comes.”

“Oh yes, I long for it.”

We were passing the room. The door was shut. I would steel myself to look at it later.

We went up the stairs to the next floor.

“You will see that we have done much,” said Jeanne. “But there is still much to do.”

“It is miraculous.”

“I do not wish to finish too soon.”

“You like to keep the interest going for Mademoiselle d’Aubigné.”

Jeanne nodded. “There are many discussions and we discover what can be done about this and that. It adds a great excitement.”

“Of course.”

“You see we have new curtains in some places… but in many we have used those which were already here. And much of the furniture too. We have done rather well—with what your mother has given us from Eversleigh.”

“Indeed you have.”

We were down to the first floor. She showed me the big bedroom with the four-poster bed in it, which Sophie had taken for hers when they had first come to the house.

“She no longer sleeps in this room. She has moved and I have the room next to her. If she wants me in the night she has only to knock on the wall. I have given her a brass poker. It rests by her bed.”

“Does she need you in the night? She’s not ill, is she?”

“Oh no, no. It is just in case. She is nervous since the trouble started. While we were in France we never knew from one night to the next whether someone would be coming for us. I always had my bed in her room then, so I was within call. She is nervous if I am not at hand, so I thought of the poker.”

“Dear Jeanne, you think of everything. She has taken one of the other rooms then.”

“I will show you. Come.”

She led me along the corridor. I felt a little faint, for she had opened the door to that room which was so well known to me. I saw the bed with the blue velvet curtains—now cleaned and seeming a brighter shade of blue. I looked at the court cupboard, now polished and shining.

“So,” I said faintly, “this is now her bedroom.”

Jeanne nodded. “And mine is next to it. We made a discovery here… such an interesting one.”

“Oh?”

“Come. Look here… by the door. It is very cleverly done. You can hardly see it.”

“What is it?”

“A hole in the floor… right against the wall. Do you see it?”

“Oh… yes.”

“It’s the end of a tube. A kind of speaking tube.”

My heart began to beat wildly.

“Are you all right, Madame?” asked Jeanne.

I put my hand to my stomach. “It was—just a flutter.”

“Sit down on the bed. You are overtired, I think. You must go back in the carriage.”

“Oh, no. I’m perfectly all right. Tell me about this speaking tube.”

“It is cleverly constructed. When I first noticed it I had a vague notion that I had seen something like it before. I put my hand to the hole and shouted down it. I could not hear my voice, but I knew that it was coming out in another part of the house. We were immediately over the kitchens, so it seemed likely that the other end of the tube was in the kitchens. Someone must have had it put in when the house was built… perhaps someone who wanted to send messages from the bedroom down to the kitchens.”

“It’s ingenious,” I stammered.

“Are you sure you feel all right?”

“Quite sure. Do go on about the tube.”

“Dolly was here at the time. I made her shout through the tube and I went down to the kitchens. I heard her voice and discovered exactly where it was coming from. I was soon about to find what I sought. A cupboard has been built round it. But there it was. What an amazing discovery! When I told Mademoiselle about it she wanted to move into this room. She said that if I was in the kitchens she could talk to me from the bedroom. I can see you think I have exaggerated, Madame. Allow me to go to the kitchens. I will speak to you through the tube.”

I sat there on the bed and in due course the voice came up to me.

“Mrs. Frenshaw. You can hear me, I believe.”

It was all coming back: the memory of my abandonment on this very bed, the voice through the tube. It did not sound like Jeanne’s voice exactly; it was muted, hollow, in the way that other voice had been.

I stared at the door.

There had been someone in the house then… someone in the kitchens, someone who knew that I had been here with Jonathan.

That other voice echoed in my mind. “Mrs. Frenshaw, remember the seventh commandment.”

Jeanne came back triumphant.

“You heard?”

I nodded.

“You could have answered me through the tube. What a discovery! This house is full of surprises. I am so glad we came here.”

I walked home slowly across the fields. Jeanne wanted to accompany me but I wouldn’t hear of it.

There was one thought which whirled round and round in my mind. Someone was there. Someone saw us go into the house. Someone knew.

All through the sultry days of July we awaited the birth of my mother’s child. We were all a little anxious… except her. She had no qualms. I had never before seen Dickon in such a state of nerves. He had always been so calmly sure of himself and his ability to get what he wanted; now he was in a state bordering on terror.

Even the news of Robespierre’s execution did not arouse great interest in him, although he had been predicting it during the previous months and was sure that his removal would mean the end of the revolution.

He had no thought for anything but my mother.

On the fourth of August my little half sister was born and the moment she put in an appearance our anxiety evaporated. It was a quick birth; my mother came through with rare ease; and the child was perfect. We were all sitting tense, waiting; and I shall never forget the sound of that baby’s crying.

I ran to Dickon and embraced him, and as he looked at me I was sure there were tears in his eyes. But his first thought was, of course, for my mother, and later when I went in to see the child, he was there, holding her hand, sitting by her bed; and I was overcome with emotion just looking at them.

They were delighted with a baby—quite sure, both of them, that there had never been such a perfect child. They marvelled over her possession of ten toes and the requisite number of thumbs and fingers—all fitted with nails. They gazed at her red wrinkled face as though it were the very pinnacle of beauty; she was everything they wanted to complete their happiness.

There was a great deal of discussion about a name; and finally my mother said she was to be Jessica. She did not know why, but the name seemed just right.

So Jessica she became.

I had another month to wait and the days passed quickly.

I was not going out now, apart from an amble round the garden. My mother had quickly recovered and liked to have me with her. We talked about babies mostly, and that meant for my mother the perfections of Jessica.

The midwife stayed on to be ready for me, and my mother had engaged a nurse—Grace Soper—who would look after the two babies when mine arrived.

Everything was in readiness, waiting.

Often enough during those last weeks I had forgotten my fears. I lived in a world of serenity. I had recovered from the shock of discovering that it had been no ghostly voice that I had heard, and that a living person had actually been in the house while I had been there with Jonathan; and that person shared our secret.

It had been a devastating discovery and one which filled me with dread, yet I could forget it. I could think of nothing but the coming of my child.

At last the day arrived.

My delivery was not as swift and easy as my mother’s. I suffered long and intensely and now and then the thought would come into my mind that I was being punished for my sins.

But at last it was over and my child was born. There came that moment of sheer bliss when I heard my baby’s voice for the first time.

“Another little girl!” That was the midwife.

A little girl! I was exultant. In that moment I did not care what had brought her to me. All that mattered was that she had come.

They put her in my arms. She seemed prettier than Jessica. But perhaps that was just a mother’s prejudice. She had fine fair hair whereas Jessica’s hair was dark brown. Her face was smoother. I thought her beautiful. She reminded me of a lily.

They were at my bed—David and my mother. David was marvelling at the child which he believed to be his. My mother’s eyes were on me, proud, full of tenderness.

She is David’s child, I thought. She is. She must be. But how could I be sure?

My mother said we had the two most beautiful babies in the world. And what was I going to call mine?

The name came suddenly into my head and after that it seemed the only one possible. Rather fanciful, yet fitting her perfectly: Amaryllis.

During the next few weeks nothing was of any importance to me but my child. I thought of her every moment of the day. David shared in my enthusiasm—and I was happy.

My mother arranged that the two babies should be christened at the same time, and she thought we might choose a day at the end of October.

I agreed that was an excellent idea, and she went ahead making plans.

“We don’t want a grand affair,” she said. “We couldn’t, since Sabrina has been so recently dead. So I decided just the family and a few special friends. What do you think?”

I said that would be ideal.

“Well, we’ll fix the date.”

So we did.

The Pettigrews were invited and we could scarcely not include the Farringdons. But my mother thought they should be the only ones outside the family. “Of course,” she added, “the Pettigrews
are
family or soon will be, but I could not leave out the Farringdons. It will be very quiet. I expect the Pettigrews had better stay. And shall we ask the Farringdons to stay for a night, too? The nights will be drawing in and it is rather a long ride.”

The babies flourished and there was some question as to which of them should wear the family christening robes.

I said that Jessica should, as she was the elder.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” said my mother.

“Not in the least. I don’t think it’s important.”

“I’ll call in Molly Blackett. She shall make the most beautiful robes for Amaryllis.”

So it was arranged.

It was about two weeks before the christening when I went over to Enderby to call on Sophie. She told me that Alberic had gone to London for a few days. Jeanne had wanted some special material and had sent him up to get it. “He has been up on several occasions and has done well. It is something of an upheaval for us to go, and he is there and back so quickly.”

I sat talking to her for some little time, telling her about the christening; and as I was on my way back, quite near Grasslands, I met Mrs. Trent.

Her face lit up when she saw me.

“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Frenshaw. How are you? You look well, my dear. Having babies suits you.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“And how is the little angel?”

“Very well, thank you.”

I was about to pass on when she laid a hand on my arm.

“Why don’t you pop in for a little chat and a glass of something.”

“Not now, thank you. I have been visiting Enderby and should go back.”

“Just a little refreshment,” she said. “I did want to have a talk with you.”

My heart missed a beat and I began to form excuses.

“Come on,” she said. “It is rather important. I am sure you will think so when I have told you.”

My legs were trembling and I felt a flush rising to my cheeks.

“Haven’t been overdoing it, have you? Have to take care, you know. Having a baby’s no picnic, I can tell you.”

“I’m perfectly all right, thank you. Only just now—”

“Come along in. I must talk to you. I’m sure when you’ve heard what I have to tell you…”

She was leering almost. I thought: She knows. What now?

I had to discover the worst. If I did not find out what she was hinting at I could imagine something perhaps even worse… disastrous.

I allowed myself to be led towards Grasslands.

“Come on in. We’ll be nice and cosy. My girls have just gone out. I reckon they’ve gone up to Enderby. Mademoiselle Sophie has been so kind to my Dolly. She seems to have a feeling for her. Dolly’s very fond of her.”

“Yes… I have seen her there.”

“Nice for her and nice for Mademoiselle. You can’t have too many friends in this world, I always say. What will you have to drink?”

“Nothing, thank you. I did have something with Mademoiselle d’Aubigné.”

“All right then.” She had taken me into a small parlour near the hall. She shut the door and when I was seated, she looked at me steadily and said: “It’s about my Evie.”

“Yes?”

“I’m worried about her. She’s such a lovely girl. You see, that Mr. Farringdon was quite fond of her. But nothing comes of it, and for why? Because he never sees her, that’s why. I reckon that there could be a match there before long. He’s a nice sort of young man. Perhaps a bit slow, but sometimes they’re the best sort. But he needs a bit of a push. Will he be coming to this christening party?”

“Oh, it’s not a party, Mrs. Trent. The babies will be christened and then it’s just the family.”

“I reckon those Pettigrews will be there… seeing as Mr. Jonathan’s engaged to the young lady.”

I thought: She knows everything about us!

“In a way they are family,” I said.