"This is rather unexpected," Lady Harriet said. "Miss Lucille has left something to you."

"To me!"

"Yes. Ayesha tells me that you interested her when you came to play with Lavinia."

"I did see her once or twice since then."

"Well, she has requested that one of her possessions should be passed on to you. I have told them to bring it here."

Just at that moment one of the servants came in. She was carrying a case, which she laid on the table.

"This is the object," said Lady Harriet. "There were instructions in her will that it should go to you."

I took the case.

"Open it," said Lady Harriet.

I did so. The sight of the peacock feathers was not really a surprise to me. I knew before I opened it that this would be her bequest to me. I touched the beautiful blue feathers, and as I did so I felt a faint shudder of revulsion.

I could not resist taking out the fan and unfurling it. I touched the little spring in the mount and disclosed the emerald and diamonds I had seen before.

Lady Harriet was beaming at me.

"Worth, I have heard, a small fortune," she said. "Well, you may regard it as your nest-egg."

"Thank you, Lady Harriet," I said.

She inclined her head. "Miss Lucille was a somewhat eccentric lady. A tragedy in her youth affected her deeply. I can comfort myself by the thought that I always had her well looked after to the best of my ability."

So I came back to the rectory carrying the peacock-feather fan.

Ayesha came to see me.

She was very sad. She had spent a great many years looking after Miss Lucille. We walked in the rectory garden, for she did not wish to come into the house.

I asked her what she would do now.

She told me she would decide later. Miss Lucille had left her well provided for, so money was not a problem. She might return to India. She was not sure. Although she had been expecting Miss Lucille's death, it was still a shock to her. She had permission to stay at Framling until she had decided what she would do.

She talked about Miss Lucille—her kindness and gentleness and her terrible grief.

"She always said you must have the fan," she said. "She thought it the best way of disposing of it as you had already had it in your possession."

"But she thought it brought ill luck."

"She had listened to legends. She was told those stories after her lover died ... and in her grief she accepted them. Perhaps it assuaged her grief to believe that it was to be. You see, she blamed herself. She had wanted the fan and he had bought it for her; she had been so attracted by it that he wanted to embellish it for her, and while he was actually dealing with this he met his death. It was the only way she could stop blaming herself, to blame the fan ... which in her eyes represented fate."

"I could never understand why she did not destroy it if she thought it brought evil."

"It was because she thought it would bring more bad luck if she did so. It carried the curse. She had suffered; it would harm her no more. She believed too that you had suffered through your connection with it. There was gossip at the House. She heard some of it. She was interested and pleased when she thought you might marry Mr. Carruthers, who became the Earl. When he became engaged to Miss Lavinia she was sure this was due to the curse of the fan. It had robbed her of her lover and now you. She said, 'The curse worked on her, poor child. She has paid the price. She is young. She has many years to live. But she has paid the price ... so she is now free from its evil.' "

"It doesn't seem to be very logical reasoning."

"Poor lady, she was never reasonable. Her tragedy changed her. It touched her mind."

"It seems a strange legacy ... to pass on evil."

"She felt it was best. The fan would harm you no more. You had already paid the price. She felt it was best with you." Ayesha touched my hand lightly. "You are no dreamer. You have ... what is it they say, two feet on the ground. You will see that this is a nonsense. And in the fan is the jewel. It is there when you need it. We never know in this life what will happen to us. Who knows? One day you might be in need of money ... desperately in need. Then you sell the jewel ... and when the jewel is gone what is it but a few peacock feathers? You will be wise, as my poor mistress never could be. Remember this. We make our own luck. If you believe in ill luck, it will surely come. Mistress Lucille, she was stricken and she made no attempt to cast off her grief. She nursed it; she nourished it. She told herself that it was the curse of the peacocks' feathers ... and what did she do? She preserved the fan; she liked to look at it. At times she asked me to bring it to her and she would unfurl it and gaze at it until the tears rolled down her cheeks. You have much sense. You will know that Miss Lavinia's marriage to the Earl was in no way connected with the fan."

"Of course I do. But I was not deeply involved. I suffered from hurt pride, not a broken heart."

"And who knows, it may be in a few years' time you will say, 'That was good for me'—that is, when you find great happiness. Believe this will be so, and it will come. You are going to India. It will seem very strange to you. I shall pray for you ... that all good may come your way."

After that she talked awhile of India, of the strange sights I would see. She told me of the religion, the conventions, the different castes and the old customs.

"The women ... ah," she said, "they are the slaves of the men. You will know that the world over the man wants to dominate. It is so here in England ... but in India doubly so. There was a time when widows burned themselves to death on their husband's funeral pyre. That was the custom of suttee, but it is so no longer. The Governor General Sir William Bentinck made it against the law. But the people do not like their customs changed ... especially by foreigners."

"It was good to abolish such a custom."

"Yes ... that and thuggery ... but there are those who do not care what is good, only that their old laws are being interfered with."

"It is bringing civilization to the land. Surely they want that?"

She looked at me and shook her head, her dark eyes mournful.

"They do not always want what is good. They want what is theirs. Ah, you have much to see and you will understand ... Miss Lavinia will be glad to see you, I know."

We talked on about my journey and India. I said we must meet again before I left.

I spent a busy time preparing. I was in close touch with Framling and constantly being sent for by Lady Harriet to be grounded in what I must do.

She had already written to Lavinia, who would be getting ready to welcome me, and during one of our meetings she let drop the news that Lady Geraldine, she was sure, would soon be travelling out to India— "for a certain purpose," she added slyly. I felt a little twinge of anger because everything worked out as Lady Harriet wished it to, and even Fabian seemed to consider it imperative to obey her.

We were to stay two nights in London and I would spend those with Polly and Eff. It was what I wanted as I wished to say a proper farewell to them. Lady Harriet had thought it an excellent idea, as we would have to go to London in any case.

About a week before we were due to leave, Alice Philwright came to Framling. I was summoned to meet her.

She was a tall woman about thirty years of age, by no means beautiful, but her face suggested character. She looked a little formidable and extremely efficient. Lady Harriet had interviewed her personally and was pleased with what she had discovered.

First we had tea with Lady Harriet, during which the conversation was predictable, mainly given over to Lady Harriet's views of the upbringing of children. But later, when we were alone together, we came to know each other, which was a pleasure for me and I hoped for Alice.

She told me that she was one of those women who did not care for interference in the nursery, and if it had been Lady Harriet's children she was to care for she would have declined the post without hesitation. "I will not be told what to do in my nursery," she declared. "And I decided that one would not be able to stir outside her ladyship's ideas, which I fear might be a little antiquated in any case."

I laughed and assured her that it would be quite different with the Countess.

"You know her well, I suppose."

"Very well. We were at school together."

"Oh. So the friendship goes right back."

"Oh yes ... earlier than that. They used to send to the rectory for me to come and play with Lavinia."

"Lavinia is our Countess?"

I nodded. "She was rather a spoilt child, I'm afraid."

"Spoilt! Under that martinet!"

"She thought her children were formed in the same divine mould as herself."

"And this is my new mistress!"

"I am convinced that you will have a free hand in the nursery."

"I believe there is a brother, too."

"Oh yes, Sir Fabian. I doubt he will be aware of us."

"He is going to be married, Lady Harriet tells me."

"I had heard that. A lady of impeccable lineage will be going out to marry him."

"That will be interesting."

"Apparently there was not time to arrange the marriage when he was home, for he was called away on sudden business."

"Connected with the East India Company, I gathered."

"Are you looking forward to going to India?" I asked.