“I understand,” he said, “that you are referring to the maid’s dismissal.”

“She wasn’t the only culprit.”

“The man is one of the best coachmen I ever had. I don’t propose to dispense with his services … if that is what you mean.”

Aunt Roberta forgot her dignity and screamed: “What?”

My father looked pained. “I have dealt with the matter,” he said coldly, “and it is closed.”

Aunt Roberta could only stare at him.

“I cannot believe I am hearing aright. I tell you I saw them. They were caught in the act.”

My father continued to look at her coldly and then gave a significant glance in my direction, meaning that they could not discuss such a matter when I was present on account of my youth and innocence.

Aunt Roberta shut her lips tightly and glared at him.

The rest of the meal was conducted in near silence. But afterwards she followed him into his study. She was there for quite a long time and when she came out she went straight to her room.

The very next morning she left, with the air of the righteous leaving Sodom and Gomorrah before disaster descended.

She could not stay another night in a house where sin was condoned because one of the sinners was “a good coachman.”

THE MATTER was discussed at length belowstairs—not in my presence, but much of what was said was imparted to me by Lilias.

She said: “It’s very strange. No one understands it. Your father sent for Hamish and we thought he was going to be dismissed as Kitty had been. But Hamish came out of that room, even more sure of himself, it seemed. What was said no one knows. But he is just carrying on as usual. And to think that poor Kitty was turned out as she was! It doesn’t make sense. But then they always blame the woman in cases like this, and the men get off, scot-free.”

“I can’t understand it,” I said. “Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t live in the house.”

“He comes into the house. He corrupts the servants.”

“I wonder why … I wish I knew.”

“Your father is not a man to be easily understood.”

“But he is so religious and Hamish …”

“Is a rogue. It didn’t take this to tell me that. We could all see what he was. A pity Kitty was such a little idiot as to be tempted by him. I admit there is something about him. She must have found him irresistible.”

“I know one who thinks he is wonderful.”

“Who?”

“Himself.”

“That’s true enough. If ever a man was in love with himself that man is Hamish Vosper. But the servants don’t like it, you know. Kitty was a good worker … and she was well thought of.”

“I do hope she will be all right.”

“I know she won’t be turned away. My father will do what he can. As I told you, he’s a real Christian.”

“My father is supposed to be one and he turned her out.”

“Your father is good at saying prayers and looking like a Christian. My father is good at being one. There is a difference.”

“I hope so, for Kitty’s sake.” “He’ll write to me and tell me what happened.” “I am so pleased you are here to help, Lilias.” That caused a frown to appear on her brow. For how long? she would be wondering. My father had ruthlessly dismissed Kitty, and Lilias would have to go when her services were no longer required. She was right. My father was very good at showing a Christian demeanour to the world, but he had his own creed of right and wrong. Lilias had summed up his attitude; and I had seen what had happened to Kitty.

But what was the true reason why Hamish had been forgiven? Because he was a good coachman? Because he was a man?

AFTER A WHILE the affair ceased to be talked of continuously. A new parlourmaid was employed to replace Kitty. She was Ellen Farley, a woman of about thirty. My father said she had been personally recommended to him.

Mr. and Mrs. Kirkwell were somewhat put out. The engaging of staff was their province and they did not like members of it to be introduced over their heads, as Mrs. Kirkwell put it. It was a reflection on her and Mr. Kirkwell that Kitty had been their choice. But the main culprit in that affair, if you asked Mrs. Kirkwell, was Hamish Vosper, and why he was allowed to stay on she would like to know.

However, Ellen came. She was quite different from Kitty— quiet, efficient and, said Mrs. Kirkwell, kept herself to herself.

Hamish still came into the kitchen and sat at the table, seemingly amused because Mrs. Kirkwell pretended that he was not there. He had an eye for Bess and Jenny but, remembering Kitty, they were wary.

Hamish’s opinion seemed to be that he was unassailable; he could act in whatever way he pleased because it was natural that he should. It was human nature, as he had once said. A man such as he was, irresistible to the female sex, could not be expected to behave in any way but that which came naturally to him. But I fancied he would have to look elsewhere for his conquests because he would not find them in our house. The example set by Kitty was very fresh in everyone’s mind.

In due course there was a letter from Lakemere vicarage. Lilias took it to her bedroom and I went with her that we might read it together.

Kitty had arrived and the vicar had behaved in exactly the way that Lilias had said he would.

“She is so grateful,” he wrote. “She cannot say enough in praise of you, Lilias, and your charge Davina. I am proud of you. The poor child, for she is little more, was in acute distress. She has been useful to Alice and Jane in the kitchen and about the house. Mrs. Ellington up at Lakemere House needs someone in the kitchen. You remember Mrs. Ellington, a very forceful lady but with a kind heart. I went to see her and told her the story, which of course I had to do. She promised to give Kitty a chance and I am sure the poor child will not slip up again. It seems that one of her maids is leaving in a few weeks to get married so there will be a vacant place. While she is waiting, Kitty can stay and help Alice and Jane. Lilias, I am so glad you did what you did. What would have happened to poor Kitty otherwise I cannot imagine …”

I gazed at Lilias and I felt the tears in my eyes.

“Oh, Lilias,” I said, “your father is a wonderful man.”

“I agree with you,” she replied.

But the response of the vicar of Lakemere set me thinking about my own father. I had always regarded him as an upright and honourable man. But to have dismissed Kitty as he had and inflict no punishment on Hamish, except perhaps a verbal reprimand, had made me change my image of him. He had always seemed so remote, but now he was less so. In the old days I had thought he was too noble to be considered as one of us; now my feelings towards him had begun to change. How could he have cared so little as to what would become of another human being and send Kitty out into a harsh world, while he kept her partner-in-crime because he was a good coachman? He was acting not out of righteousness but for his own comfort. The image of the good and noble man was fading.

If my mother had been there I could have talked with her. But it would not have happened if she had been with us. She would never have allowed Kitty to be sent away having nowhere to go.

I felt bewildered and apprehensive.

My father sent for me one day and when I arrived in his study he looked at me quizzically. “You’re growing up,” he said. “Nearly seventeen, is it not?”

I agreed that it was, terrified that this was a prelude to the departure of Lilias whose services would no longer be required so that she would be as cursorily dismissed as Kitty had been.

However, it was not to be just then, for he turned to a casket which was on the table. I knew it well. It contained my mother’s jewellery. She had shown it to me on more than one occasion, taking out each piece and talking to me about it.

There was the pearl necklace which her father had given her on her wedding day. There was the ruby ring which had been her mother’s. There were the bracelet set with turquoise, a turquoise necklace to match, two gold brooches and a silver one.

“You shall have them all when you are grown up,” she had told me, “and you’ll be able to give them to your daughter. It’s rather pleasant to think of these trinkets going on through the generations, don’t you think?”

I did.

My father picked up the pearl necklace and held it in his hands. My mother had told me that there were sixty pearls in it and the clasp was a real diamond surrounded by seed pearls. I had seen her wear it on several occasions, as I had most of the jewellery in the box.

My father said: “Your mother wished you to have these. I think you are too young for the jewellery as yet, but the necklace is different. You could have that now. They say that if pearls are not worn they lose their lustre.”

I took it from him and my first thought was one of relief. He considered me too young to wear jewellery; therefore I would not yet be ready to dispense with Lilias. But I was pleased to have the pearl necklace.

I put it round my neck and when I thought of my mother I was overwhelmed with sadness.

When I joined Lilias, she noticed the necklace at once.

“It’s beautiful,” she cried. “It really is.”

“It was my mother’s. There are several brooches and things. They are for me, but my father doesn’t think I am old enough to wear them yet. But it’s not good for pearls if they are not worn.”

“I’ve heard that,” she said. She touched the pearls lovingly and I took them off and handed them to her.

“The clasp is lovely,” she said. “That in itself would be worth a good deal.”