“We met once or twice in the street,” I told him.

“I was desperately sorry to hear about your mother,” said Roderick.

“It was necessary for Noelle to get away,” said Charlie.

“You’re going to find some interesting things here,” said Roderick.

“I think the house is most … unusual. I have never seen a house like it before.”

“Oh, there isn’t one, is there?” replied Roderick with a laugh, looking at his father. “At least, that is what we like to think.”

“We’re proud of it,” said Charlie. “Though I’m afraid we take it for granted, having spent all our lives here. We like to see how it affects people. We have never really lost that, have we, Roderick?”

“Certainly not. The house is a bit of a hybrid, really. That’s what happens to these old places. They need bolstering up over the years and you see the ideas in vogue during one century intruding on another.”

“Surely that makes it all the more interesting?”

The gloom was dispelling and I felt a great lifting of my spirits. I had been right to come, after all. Roderick was here … and Charlie. They would help me … protect me if need be.

Then Charlie said to Roderick: “Where is your mother?”

“She is in the drawing room.”

My sudden burst of relief evaporated. I guessed that Lady Constance had only accepted my coming here because she had been obliged to.

“We’d better go up, then,” said Charlie; and we mounted the short staircase to the door through which Roderick had come into the hall.

We passed through several rooms, under arches and up and down little staircases, past walls hung with magnificent tapestries and portraits. I scarcely noticed them. And after a long time, it seemed, we came to the drawing room.

Charlie opened the door and we went in. Vaguely I was aware of a room with heavy drapes at the windows, a highly polished wooden floor covered in rugs, tapestries and linenfold panelling.

And there, seated on a thronelike chair, was the woman I had often visualized and never thought to meet: Lady Constance.

We advanced towards her, and Charlie said: “Constance, this is Miss Noelle Tremaston. Noelle, my wife.”

She did not rise. She lifted a lorgnette and surveyed me, which I felt was a gesture meant to remind me of my insignificance. Although I resented this, I stood there quite meekly. There was something about her which demanded homage.

“Good day, Miss Tremaston,” she said. “Your room has been made ready for you, and one of the maids can take you to it. You will need to recover from your journey, I am sure.”

“Good day, Lady Constance,” I replied. “Thank you. It was not really a very long journey.”

She waved her lorgnette and pointed in the direction of a chair, indicating that I might sit.

“I gather you have come from London,” she said.

“Yes, that is so.”

“I don’t care for the place. Too much noise … too many people, and some of them can be most unpleasant.”

Roderick said: “A good many people find London fascinating, Mother, and there are unpleasant people everywhere.”

“That may be so,” she retorted, “but everything in London is on a bigger scale, and that means there are more of them.” She turned to me. “I gather your mother was involved with the theatre.” There was a certain distaste in her voice. “You will find it very different here. We live quietly in the country.”

“I find the house very interesting,” I said.

“That is good of you, Miss … er …”

“She is Noelle to us,” said Charlie with a hint of firmness in his voice.

“And there have been some wonderful discoveries on your land,” I said.

“Noelle wants to see the Roman remains,” added Roderick.

“H’m,” murmured Lady Constance. “But now she will want to see her room. Ring the bell, Roderick, please.”

Roderick obeyed and very soon a maid appeared.

“Take Miss … er … Tremaston to her room, Gertie,” said Lady Constance. “And make sure that she has everything.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” said Gertie.

Roderick was smiling at me reassuringly, Charlie a little apprehensively, as I followed Gertie out of the room.

We went up and down more stairs and through more rooms.

“This is the Red Room, miss,” said Gertie when we reached our destination. “It’s to be yours. See, it’s all in red. Red curtains, red carpets and red on the bed.” She giggled at the rhyme, which I imagined had been said many times to the occupants of the room.

“There’s the Blue Room, the White Room … but they’re not used very much. You’ll get lost in this house at first. Rambling old place, it is. But you get used to it. They’ve brought your bags up so you can unpack. Want any help? … No? Well, all you have to do is ring if you do. There’s hot water and towels here and in about half an hour I’ll come and take you down. Her ladyship don’t like anyone being late.”

When she had gone I sat down on the bed. It was a four-poster, probably at least a hundred years old. I touched the red curtains and felt my uneasiness growing.

Lady Constance was hostile. Naturally she would be, so that should not surprise me. I thought of the streets of London; the carriages taking people to and from the theatre; of my mother, laughing, carefree, full of gaiety. No wonder Charlie had turned to her. She was everything that Lady Constance was not. I longed for her more than ever. I felt lost in an alien world. Such a short time ago everything had been happily predictable—and now there was complete change.

I wanted to weep helplessly. I wanted to go back to Desiree’s comforting security; and instead of Desiree’s warm loving-kindness, I was confronted by the frigid dislike of Lady Constance.

But Roderick was here, I reminded myself. He and Charlie wanted me to be happy. I was not alone.

I washed and changed. I was ready to face Lady Constance.

During the first days at Leverson Manor, there were occasions when I told myself I should have to get away. It was only the insistence of Charlie and Roderick that I should stay which made me feel that I could not leave at once.

It had soon become clear to me that Lady Constance tolerated my presence only because it was impossible for her to do otherwise.

I saw here a new man in Charlie. I had thought him mild and easygoing, but at Leverson Manor he was master of the household and somehow, formidable as Lady Constance was, he had made her understand this. I also realized more fully how deeply he had loved my mother. I knew that he was lost and lonely without her—a feeling so intense, which we both shared. Silently, he was begging me not to go. It had been her wish that we should be together if an occasion like this arose. It had, and he was going to look after me, and it gave him a modicum of comfort that he could do this.

Then there was Roderick. I cannot deny that I drew comfort from him. Like his father, he was determined that I should stay and, bruised and lonely as I was, I was in a measure grateful. I was living in a strange, unreal world between those happy carefree days which I had believed would go on forever and the dreary wilderness of life without Desiree which I must face sooner or later.

In time, I reminded myself, I should consider my situation. Perhaps it would be good for me to do some work. It might indeed be necessary that I did. In the meantime I had to get through the days: I had to learn to suppress my sorrow: and Charlie and Roderick were helping me to do that.

Sometimes I felt that she was watching over me tenderly, urging me to stay with Charlie. She trusted him. Her greatest concern had always been for me. To be without her was utter desolation.

“Try to take an interest, love,” I could almost hear her saying. “Perhaps we’ll be together someday. I never thought much about these things, but there are times when you have to face them, and if you can get a bit of comfort from believing it, that’s not a bad way. Be patient. You’ve got to go on living. I trust Charlie. He’s the one I want to look after you.”

Roderick suggested that I should learn to ride.

“It’s necessary here in the country,” he said.

The riding lessons were a success. Roderick was a good and patient teacher and I began to find the exercise exhilarating. I improved so rapidly that for several hours at a stretch I could forget my mother.

“In a week or so you’ll be a good horsewoman, Noelle,” Roderick told me. “Then we can go farther afield. There is a good deal for you to see.”

He was so delighted that I had to show my pleasure for his sake; but I must say that I did feel uplifted by my aptitude on a horse, and it was certainly good to be able to put aside the black desolation, if only for a few hours.

One of the first things Roderick wanted to do was show me the Roman ruins.

The countryside was very flat around Leverson. From my bedroom window I could see the land stretching out almost to the sea. Roderick had explained to me that at the time of the Roman invasion the sea must have come within a quarter of a mile of the house. Now there was a mile and a half between it and the sea.

When he took me to inspect the finds, he glowed with enthusiasm.

“I always wanted to show you this,” he said. “Remember?”

I did remember, and the memory saddened me. We had mentioned the secrecy of our meetings, and we had wished that this need not be. Our wish had been granted, but at what a cost!

Roderick saw at once that he had saddened me and was immediately remorseful.

I said: “It’s all right. Yes, I did want to see them. You made them sound so interesting.”