For the first few days we gave ourselves up to marvelling at the baby. It was like a miracle to me that such an enchanting creature could have come out of that sordid little affair. Even Lavinia succumbed to her charm and looked rather proud and almost happy to have produced her. I loved her red wrinkled face, her screwed-up eyes and the tufts of dark hair, her little hands and feet all equipped with delicate pink-tinted nails.

"She has to have a name," I said. "She is like a little flower."

"We'll call her Flower and as she is half French she shall be Fleur."

"Fleur," I repeated. "It seems to suit her."

So Fleur she became.

I had written to Polly to tell her that the baby was born and that it was a little girl named Fleur. Polly wrote back that they couldn't wait to get the baby. Eff was so excited; she had everything ready ... cradle, bottles and nappies. Eff was very knowledgeable about babies' needs. She did think the name was a bit outlandish and would have liked Rose or Lily or perhaps Effie.

"You're on your own, now," said Janine. "I've got your address. I'll write."

Aunt Emily took a cosy farewell and at the same time presented Lavinia with the outstanding account, which depressed Lavinia every time she looked at it.

She and I were to take the baby to London. Polly would meet us at the station. Eff would be at home preparing the welcome.                                                                            

In due course we arrived. I was carrying the baby. I was less awkward with her than Lavinia was. And so Polly saw us. She cried out, "Drusilla!" Then she was beside me, her eyes brimming over with love and hugging me and the baby at the same time.

"So here you are with that little love. And you ... Let's have a look at you. You're looking well."

"And you, too, Polly. It's wonderful to see you."

"You bet," said Polly. "And wait until Eff sees the nipper."

Her greeting to Lavinia was less warm. I was glad that Lavinia was suitably subdued and did seem to be aware of what she owed to Polly and her sister.

Polly had a cab already waiting for us and we all got in and drove to the house on the common, where Eff was waiting for us.

Eff had changed. She was quite stately now. They had taken the house across the road and now had three houses, which they let very profitably. It took me some little time to learn who the tenants were because there were now the various floors One, Two and Three, and so on.

Their joy over the baby eclipsed all else. Eff took charge. I could see that Polly was a little baffled. She kept looking at me intently. Of course, the presence of Lavinia was a mystery to them and it put a certain restraint on them. Lady Harriet's invisible presence seemed to brood over us; and I supposed even Polly was not quite immune from that. Eff apologized for everything to Lavinia, for she was far more aware of the grades of society than Polly would admit to being, and however much they disliked Lavinia, she was still Lady Harriet's daughter.

We stayed only a few days. I wrote to my father from London and Lavinia wrote to Lady Harriet. We said we had now returned from Lindenstein and were breaking the journey in London. We should be home within a few days.

Murder in Fiddler's Green

I was further shocked to see the deterioration in my father. He now walked with a stick, but he said he was still capable of carrying on. He had many good workers in the village who were of inestimable help of him.

He wanted to hear about Lindenstein; he believed the Schloss was very ancient, Gothic in fact. And was there any evidence of the Goths in the neighbourhood?

"It must have been fascinating for you, my dear. A great opportunity. You were wise not to miss it."

I parried his questions about the place and told myself I must find a book on it if that were possible, and learn something about it. I upbraided myself for my folly in not trying to do this earlier. But, of course, we had had too much to contend with.

Mrs. Janson said he had been ailing last winter and she dreaded the one to come. She was glad I was home. "You ought to be here," she added significantly. "I was a bit worried when I heard you wasn't coming straight home, but were going gadding about with foreign princesses."

"There was only one princess, Mrs. Janson," I reminded her.

"One's enough. You ought to have come straight home. I don't mind telling you, I'm glad school's done with. How was Polly?"

"Very well."

"I reckon she was glad to see you."

I said she was.

So, I was finished with school now. I was the polished article. What difference it had made to me I was not sure, except that I knew I was no longer the innocent girl who had gone to France.

That night as I lay in my familiar bed I had muddled dreams.

Faces seemed to swim in and out of my mind. The Duchess ... the scientist ... the man with his fires ... all waiting for Death ... and so many of the women for a new life to begin. I pictured Agatha's cheerful grin, Emmeline's wistful looks and Miriam's tortured face. I was aware of Aunt Emily's secret smile as she smiled at me as though she were saying: You'll never escape ... you will be here forever ... cosy ... cosy ...

I awoke crying out, "No, no."

Then I realized I was in my own familiar bed and it was only a dream. I was free.

Lavinia came over the next day.

"Let's ride," she said, and we rode out together, for being finished young ladies we could ride—as long as there were two of us—without a groom in attendance.

She said, "It's the only way I can really feel safe to talk. There are so many people around. I feel they might be listening. My mother is talking about a London season."

"She doesn't guess anything?"

"Of course not. Why should she?"

"My father asks awkward questions about Lindenstein."

"Oh, it's too far away for people to know about. A London season, think of that!"

"Do you want it?"

"Of course I want it. I want to marry a rich man so that I can pay off Aunt Emily. The woman's a shark."

"You didn't think that when you went to her."

"I didn't know it was going to cost so much."

"How long is it going to take you to pay?"

"More than a year ... unless I can get Mama to top up my allowance."

"Why don't you ask Fabian?"

"I couldn't tell him what I wanted it for and he'd want to know."

"Couldn't you tell him it's a secret?"

"You don't understand Fabian. He wants to know everything. That's how he has always been. No. I'll have to pay it out of my own allowance until I find a rich husband."

I looked at her wonderingly that she could talk so. Did she never think of little Fleur? Did she not want to be with her baby sometimes?

I asked her.

"Oh yes," she replied, "but I can't, can I? Those two will look after her. They love her already."

"I shall go down and see them soon. I want to see Fleur, too."

"Oh good! You can let me know how she is."

I marvelled at how rapidly she was regaining her old assurance. The submissive, fearful Lavinia was fast disappearing. She had overcome her misfortune and was, I could see, ready for adventure again.

She could think of little but the coming season. How she would revel in it. She was already regaining her healthy looks; she was even preening herself, certain that she would become the debutante of the season.

I went once or twice to Framling. I saw Lady Harriet, who was gracious in a detached sort of way. I was no longer of importance in her scheme of things. I had served my purpose as Lavinia's steadying companion over the school years and was now relegated to my proper position—the rather plain rector's daughter.

Lavinia's excitement grew. Such plans there were. Lady Harriet was having her schooled in certain accomplishments. She would soon be leaving with Lavinia for their London residence and there Lavinia would be put through her paces, learning how to curtsey, how to dance the new fashionable dances and certain matters of deportment; and of course she must visit the Court dressmakers. She was to be presented at Easter time.

All through the winter I saw little of Lavinia. I had written several letters to Polly and she reported the progress of Fleur. The child was flourishing. There wasn't a baby like her on the common. She and Eff took it in turns to wheel her out; and they had that nice bit of garden at the back where she could be in her pram.

She already knew them, and did she kick up a fuss when she wanted a bit of a cuddle!

I imagined there would be plenty of "bits of cuddle" for Fleur, and I rejoiced, as I had throughout my life, for the good fortune which had brought Polly into my life.

Christmas came—always a busy time for us at the rectory. There were the usual services—midnight mass on Christmas eve, the carol service—and before that the decorating of the church, organized by church workers, but my father had to be present, of course. We had friends from the neighbourhood to dinner on Christmas Day. They were the doctor, his family, and the solicitor and his wife.

There was a good deal of entertaining at Framling. Fabian was home. I saw him once or twice. He would call a greeting and give me that somewhat cryptic smile, which I had come to expect from him.

"Hello, Drusilla," he said. "Finished school now?"

"Yes," I told him.