“No, no,” he insisted. “I do need a place. Why should I seek … when it is here? It is … her house. I feel it is what she would want. She talked much of you. She asked me to look after you … if ever there was a need. You understand?”

I did. He had loved her. He was doing this for her.

There was the question of Lisa.

“She should not be disturbed,” he said. “She is much upset. She was very grateful to Desiree. She grieves much. No, she must stay … if that is her wish. We will not disturb her.”

Mrs. Crimp said she had always known that Monsewer Robber was all right and, even though he was a foreigner, he was quite the gentleman. She and Mr. Crimp would look after him. They could not hide their relief that their future was safe.

Then there was Martha. She had already spoken to Lottie Langdon, who had always wanted her and had even on one or two occasions tried to lure her away from Desiree.

“I couldn’t stay here,” she said. “Too many memories. We’d been together too long. But now she’s gone and it’s no good wanting her back because she’s not coming. I have to keep reminding myself of that. I know what she’d say if she were here, God bless her. ‘Be sensible, Martha. I’ve gone and you’re still here. You’ve got to go on. It was good while it lasted, but it’s over now. You’re valued in the profession and you know Lottie Langdon always wanted you. She always said you were the best.’ That’s what she would have said. Charlie will look after you. She always said Charlie came first. He was the most reliable, in spite of that old dragon he married. Robert will keep this place going … for her sake … and it will always be a home for you. I don’t know anyone who was loved as she was. And she deserved it, that she did. I can’t stay here. It’s best for me to get away … and be quick about it. As for you, Noelle, you ought to do the same … even if it’s only for a little while. If there’s anything I can do … But I think Charlie wants to talk to you.”

She was right. Later that day, Charlie came to me and said: “I want to talk to you seriously, Noelle.”

When we were in the drawing room, he said: “Your mother and I were, as you know, very great friends.”

“I know that.”

“For many years the friendship persisted. I knew her as well as anyone. I loved her deeply, Noelle.”

I nodded.

“My dear, dear child, you were always first with her. She was a wonderful woman … unorthodox, yes … not always acting in a manner acceptable to society … but what is that beside a warm and loving, caring heart?” He paused, too filled with emotion to go on.

I waited, sharing his feelings.

“She asked me to look after you,” he continued. “She said: ‘If I were to go and Noelle needed someone, I’d like it to be you, Charlie.’ That is what she said. And it is not only because of that. I’m very fond of you, Noelle.”

“You have been wonderful to me, Charlie, always … you and Robert.”

“There are too many memories here, Noelle. I’ve been talking to Martha. We agree, you ought to get away. It’s very necessary. It’s all too close here. I know you will never forget her, but you have to try.”

“It wouldn’t be any good. I shall never forget her.”

“All grief, however deep, is softened by time. I want you to come to Leverson Manor. I want to have you there … under my care.”

I stared at him in amazement.

“But … I have never been there … neither I … nor my mother. It was … apart. We always knew that. Your wife would not want me there.”

“/ want you and it is my home. I promised Desiree that I would look after you. More than anything, I am determined to keep my promise to her.”

“You can’t do this, Charlie. Our two families have always been kept apart.”

“It’s different now. I am going to take you to Leverson. You must come. Think about it.”

I did think about it. It seemed incredible. To go there … after all these years. It was impossible. But Charlie was determined.

For a short period I was thinking of something other than the loss of my mother. To leave this house of memories … I thought with sudden pleasure, I shall see Roderick. See him often … learn about the estate and some of those exciting remains which had been found on it. For the first time since I had seen my mother lying dead on the floor of her room, I had thought of something else, and the curtain of gloom and melancholy had lifted a little.

Charlie went home that day—I supposed to prepare his family for my possible arrival. I could not believe that the formidable Lady Constance would ever allow me to enter her home. But it was Charlie’s home, too, and I had seen how determined he could be. He had been devoted to my mother, and that devotion was now directed towards me. I considered the prospect of seeing more of Roderick, and I felt that I was being propelled into agreeing to accept what might be an extremely embarrassing situation. I had to think of my future. I must take Martha’s example. She was unsentimental, full of common sense, and she had said, rightly, that when a situation became unbearable, the sooner one moved away from it, the better.

I should have a small income. Thanks to Robert’s bounty, I should have a roof over my head. What did women in my position do? Of slender means, fairly well educated: well, there were only two paths open to them. They became governesses or ladies’ companions. I could not see myself as either. Governesses usually came from highly respectable backgrounds—very often from vicarages; ladies who found themselves faced with the necessity to earn a living. The daughter of a famous musical comedy actress would scarcely fit in.

So … I needed to think of Charlie’s proposition.

It was, after all, what my mother had wanted, and she had sought the best for me. I needed time to think. On the other hand, it was desperately important that I draw myself out of this maze of misery in which I was caught.

Charlie settled the question temporarily.

After a few days he returned.

“Could you be ready to leave by the weekend?” he asked.

“But …”

“Let us have no buts,” he said firmly. “You are coming.”

“Your family …”

“My family will be ready to welcome you,” he replied with an air of finality.

And that was how I went to Leverson Manor.

KENT

Leverson Manor

I had been expecting a pleasant manor house, but when I saw Leverson Manor I was completely overwhelmed. As the carriage which had been sent to meet us at the station approached the house, I saw that, with its machicolated tower and embattled gatehouse, it dominated the landscape.

I was too bewildered then to notice details, but later, when I began to learn a little about its architecture, I was able to appreciate the intricate cornices, the finials, and the traces of the changing modes of the centuries which intermittent restoration had imposed upon it.

At this time it seemed to have an air of cold defiance—a fortress, ready to defend itself against all comers. It was not merely a stone edifice but a living thing. Through four centuries it would have seen much coming and going—births, deaths, comedies and tragedies. I wondered what it was about to see now. I should be part of this house—for a time at least. I was asking myself what it would hold for me.

Apprehension descended on me as we drove under the gatehouse into a cobbled courtyard. I had a feeling that the house itself was watching me, assessing me, despising me as a being from an alien world, who did not belong here, who knew nothing of life except what had been gathered from the noisy streets of London and the somewhat artificial world of theatrical circles. I was not an ordinary visitor. I was becoming more and more uncertain of the wisdom of coming to this place.

As we alighted from the carriage, Charlie laid a reassuring hand on my arm, and then I knew that he was acutely aware of my apprehension.

“Come along,” he said in a voice which was meant to be cheerful. He swung open the heavy iron-studded door and we went into a hall.

Now I felt I had really stepped into the Middle Ages. I glanced up at the hammer-beam roof, the whitewashed walls hung with swords, pistols, shields and blunderbusses. Two flags were crossed at one end of the hall—one displaying what I presumed to be the family’s emblem and the other the Union Jack. Near a staircase, like a sentinel, was a suit of armour. The floor was tiled and our footsteps echoed through the hall as we walked. There was a dais at one end, on which was a large open fireplace, round which I imagined the family gathered after eating at the large refectory table in the centre of the hall.

The windows, two of which were of stained glass, were emblazoned with the family arms and denoted its participation in famous battles. The light from these windows, faintly tinted as it was, gave an uncanny ambience to the place.

Again I told myself I should not have come. I had a ridiculous but certain feeling that the house was telling me that. I did not belong here in this place with all its traditions. I wanted to run out, go straight to the station and back to London as fast as I could.

Then a door opened at the top of a short staircase, which led up from the right side of the dais.

“Noelle. It is good to see you.” And there was Roderick hurrying towards me.

He took my hands. “I was so delighted when I heard you were here.”

Charlie looked on benignly and I felt some of my fears slipping away.

“You two seem to know each other,” he said.