My love and sympathy,

Noelle

The response was another letter. This was from Lady Constance.

My dear Noelle,

We have thought of you a good deal since you left us. I was very sad to see you go in such circumstances.

Lisa has told me that she wants to talk to you, and that it is important to her that she does so. I think it might be helpful if she did. She says that you need an invitation from me.

My dear, I should be delighted to see you. Neither my husband nor I can see that any harm could come to the position at the moment by your coming here.

It may well be that you can persuade Lisa as to what she should do for all our sakes.

So please come, and bring Marie-Christine with you. You will both be welcome.

Affectionately,

Constance Claverham

The carriage was waiting for us at the station.

I had never thought to see Leverson again, and how strange it was to be riding through those Kentish lanes.

We had turned into the drive, and went under the gatehouse into the courtyard.

Marie-Christine’s eyes were round with amazement.

“What a splendid place!” she cried. “It is like a castle.”

I was pleased that she liked it. I felt as though I were part of it. Such had been Roderick’s optimism that I could convince myself that it might well be my home one day.

As we passed through the hall, with its pistols and blunderbusses, I remembered the apprehension I had felt when Charlie had first brought me here.

“Lady Constance says that you are to be taken to the drawing room as soon as you arrive,” I was told.

We followed the maid, though I knew the way.

In the drawing room she was waiting. Charlie was with her.

“My dear Noelle,” he murmured and, taking my hand, kissed my cheek.

Lady Constance came forward. She kissed me, too.

“My dear,” she said. “I am glad to see you. And this is Marie-Christine?”

Marie-Christine was a little overawed, which was rare with her, but such was the personality of Lady Constance.

“You will have your old room,” said Lady Constance to me. “And Marie-Christine will be next to you. I thought you would like to be close.” She turned to Marie-Christine. “This is rather a large house, and people are apt to get lost just at first.”

“It is beautiful!” cried Marie-Christine. “And very grand.”

Lady Constance smiled graciously.

“I am looking forward to hearing all your news,” she said to me. “But now I am sure you are tired after your journey. It is a pity the train arrives so late. But you can change before dinner. Would you like to go to your rooms now?”

I said I thought that would be best.

“I hope you will be comfortable,” said Lady Constance.

She rang a bell and a maid appeared.

“Take our guests to their rooms, please, and make sure they have everything they need,” said Lady Constance. “And, Noelle, my dear … say half an hour? That will give us a little time before dinner is served.”

“Thank you very much.”

It was all very conventional and normal. No one would have guessed of the drama behind my visit. This was typical of Lady Constance. I felt my spirits rising. Her welcome had been warm in the extreme … for her. I was reminded of the reception I had received when I first came to this house.

Marie-Christine was in a state of high excitement. She loved what she called adventure and this was certainly in that category … as exciting to her as our trip to Cornwall.

The room looked just as it was when I was last in it. I went to see Marie-Christine in hers. She was delighted with it and all eager anticipation, waiting for what would happen next.

I washed and changed and, with Marie-Christine, went downstairs. Lady Constance was waiting for us. Marie-Christine’s presence prevented any intimate conversation, and it was not until after dinner, when Charlie took Marie-Christine off to see the house, that I was alone with Lady Constance.

She said: “I am very happy to have you here. I was sad when you went away. It was a great pity Roderick married. I was very much against it.”

“And what about Lisa?” I asked. “Is her trouble incurable? Is there no hope for her?”

“None. She has permanently injured her spine. Roderick has brought in all the leading men in the country. The verdict is always the same. She will remain an invalid, and it is very likely that the condition will grow worse.”

“What a terrible prospect for her!”

“And for Roderick. But let us hope there may be a way out.”

“It is so tragic for her,” I said. “She was so ambitious, and she was getting on well in her profession.”

“I do not know about that, but she is here … as Roderick’s wife. I had hoped … you and I could have got along very well together, Noelle.”

“I am sure we should.”

“I hope I may say I am sure we shall. We’ve got to make her see reason, Noelle.”

“But what is reason for us might not be for her. She is being asked for a great deal.”

“She must agree. We are going to use all our efforts to persuade her.”

“When can I see her?”

“Tomorrow. She has had a bad day today. She does have them. The pain is great then. The doctor has prescribed pills for her. They are quite effective. They are always at hand, but she can’t take too many at a time, of course. I think six is the maximum for the whole day. She has to be careful to use them only when she really needs them. When the pain is very bad, she will take two. She had four yesterday, they tell me.”

“It sounds dreadful.”

“One can be sorry for her.”

Charlie returned with Marie-Christine. Her eyes were round with wonder. “It is the most exciting house!” she cried. “It’s very ancient, isn’t it, Mr. Claverham?”

“There are older ones in England,” said Charlie.

“I don’t believe there is one as exciting as this.”

Lady Constance’s lips twitched with amusement and pleasure. She was always pleased, I remembered, when people appreciated the house. I was glad Marie-Christine was making a good impression.

When it was time for us to retire, I went to Marie-Christine’s room to see that she was all right.

“It’s nice to be next door to you,” she said. “I reckon there are ghosts in this old place.”

“Well, if one visits you, all you have to do is knock on the wall and I’ll come in to share the company.”

She giggled with pleasure. I was so pleased to see her happy and contented.

I went to my room, and it was not very long before there was a gentle tap on my door. I called: “Come in,” and, to my pleasure, there was Gertie, the maid who had looked after me when I was last here.

“I’ve come to see you’ve got everything you want, miss,” she said.

“Gertie! I’m so glad to see you. How are you?”

“Not so bad, miss. How’s yourself? And you’ve brought this young lady with you.”

“Yes.” I told her: “Marie-Christine lost her family during the war in France and is now living with me.”

She looked shocked. “I was ever so sad when you went, miss,” she said. “Everybody here was.”

“Yes, it was very sad. Do you see much of Mrs. Claverham?”

“Oh yes, miss. I look after her in a way. She … er … don’t seem to fit here … her being an actress nobody’s ever heard of … not like Desiree … and being a cripple. Well, she can be a bit touchy at times. It’s nothing like it was here.”

“And Lady Constance—she is … all right with you now?”

“She don’t take much notice of me. She don’t pick on me. I’ll never forget that bust. I reckon I’d have been out of this place in no time if you hadn’t took the blame for it. I often think of that and what you done for me.”

“It was nothing, Gertie.”

“It was to me. We’ve got a new girl here now. Mabel … a sort of tweeny … learning and doing all the jobs nobody wants to do. I’d say she was a ha’p’orth short, if you ask me.”

“Do you mean she’s a little simple?”

“I’d say. And not a little. I’m the one that’s got to keep an eye on her. Will you be staying here long, miss?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just a short visit. I’ve really come to see Mrs. Claverham.”

“She’s ill most of the time. You never know how she’s going to be. Well … her being crippled like that. Perhaps you’ll be able to cheer her up.”

“I hope so,” I said.

“Well, if there’s anything you want, just ring. I’ll say good night. Have a good sleep.”

I doubted I should. My mind was in too much of a turmoil.

The next day I saw Lisa. She was lying in bed, propped up by pillows. She had changed a good deal, and I was shocked by her appearance.

“Oh, Noelle,” she said. “I am so glad you have come. What a lot has happened since we last met. You have not changed much. I know I have.”

“Poor Lisa! I was horrified when I heard of your accident.”

“All my hopes … all my dreams of greatness … gone, and because of a faulty trapdoor. I fell seven feet onto a concrete floor. I could have broken my neck. It could have finished me altogether … instead of finishing my career.” Her voice broke. “Perhaps it would have been better if it had.”

I had taken a seat by her bed, and put my hand over hers. I said: “You wanted to see me.”

“Oh yes. I did. I have for a long time … and now this. You are involved in it. In fact, our lives seem to have been involved ever since we met. It’s fate. Roderick has told me he always loved you. It was terrible, the way it had to end … and all the time it wasn’t true. Why did she do that to you?”