“It’s a matter of assets and liabilities, Miss Brett. One must balance them. And you find yourself in a very precarious position.”

He went on explaining; he showed me figures to back up his conclusions. I was in a very difficult position indeed and I had no alternative but to act promptly. He talked of “voluntary liquidation” which he believed, with care, could still be accomplished. In a few months’ time it might be too late. I must remember that expenses went on mounting and debts growing.

He was not suggesting that I should rely entirely on his advice. He was a bank manager merely. But the business had clearly been going downhill fast. Miss Charlotte Brett had bought unwisely — there was no doubt about that; she had often sold at a loss in order to raise money. That was a very dangerous procedure and could not be repeated too often. He suggested that I see my solicitor. Miss Brett’s loan to the bank would have to be repaid within the next three months he feared, and he believed that I should go into these matters very, very carefully. It might be a wise plan to cut my losses and sell everything — including the house. That should settle the debts and leave me a little capital in hand. He feared it was the best I could hope for.

He gave me a melancholy handshake and advised me to go home and think about it.

“I’m sure you are very sensible, Miss Brett, and will before long have made up your mind.”

When I returned to the Queen’s House, Mrs. Buckle was on the point of leaving.

“You look down in the dumps, miss,” she said. “I don’t know. I was saying to Buckle it’s no life for a young lady, that’s not. That old house, all alone there. I don’t reckon it’s right. All alone with them valuable things. It gives me the shivers, not that the house itself wouldn’t do that at night.”

“I’m not afraid of the house, Mrs. Buckle. It’s …”

But I couldn’t explain to her; besides she was a gossip and would be unable to help repeating any confidence.

“Well, it’s none of my affair,. But I think there’s worm in that ’Epplewhite table. Not much. But it was right next to the tall clock and you know what them little devils are.”

“I’ll have to look into that, Mrs. Buckle.”

She nodded. “Well, I’ll be getting along. We’re short of beeswax. I’ll get some on the way in tomorrow. See you then, miss.”

She was gone and I was alone.

I went into the garden and thought of that autumn night so long ago now and I wondered foolishly if he ever thought of it. I walked down to the river where the water crowfoot rioted among the lady’s-smocks and a swarm of gnats danced above the water. I looked back at the house and thought of what the bank manager had said. Sell everything. Sell the Queen’s House. I was not sure how I felt about that. The Queen’s House had been my home for so long. It attracted me while it still repelled me, and sometimes when I suddenly realized that it was mine I thought of it furnished as it must have been before it became Aunt Charlotte’s storehouse. It would have been a charming happy house then … before so many tragic things had happened in it. My mother’s death, my father, that brief evening’s happiness when I had thought I had met someone who would change my life, the disillusion and then Aunt Charlotte’s mysterious death.

I didn’t want to sell the house. And yet I believed I should have to.

I walked across the lawns. The apple and cherry trees were covered in pink and white blossom; and there were flowery pyramids on the horse-chestnut tree near my window. I had a strong feeling for the Queen’s House.

I stepped inside. I stood listening to the clocks. It was still as cluttered as in Aunt Charlotte’s day. Not many people came to the house now. Perhaps they felt embarrassed to deal with someone they suspected of being concerned in sudden death.

That night I walked all round the house, through room after room. So much valuable furniture for which I could not find profitable buyers! I should have to sell up and that meant selling to dealers. Anyone knew that they would only buy cheaply.

But I was coming nearer and nearer to a climax.

I seemed to hear my father’s voice: “Stand up to your troubles. Face them and then you’ll find the way to overcome them.”

That was what I was doing and the malicious clocks were telling me, “Sell, sell, sell, sell.” Yes, sell and get out; and start afresh. Make a new life … entirely.


* * *

“There’s some people,” said Ellen, “that say the Queen’s House is haunted.”

“What nonsense,” I retorted.

“Well, that’s what they say. It gives you the creeps.”

I looked at her sharply. She had changed since Aunt Charlotte’s death. I was certain that at any moment she was going to say that she couldn’t continue. After all she had only stayed to “help me out” as she had explained at the time. Mr. Orfey was an exacting husband. With the legacy, he had bought his own horse and cart and was in business on his own — “building up nicely,” said Ellen.

But it was not so much Mr. Orfey’s growing prosperity that made Ellen chary of the Queen’s House. It was the memory of Aunt Charlotte. In a way the house was haunted for Ellen as well as for me. Ellen wouldn’t go up into Aunt Charlotte’s room alone. As she said it gave her “the creeps.” I could see that very soon she would be giving her notice.

It was a wet day and the rain had been falling steadily through the night; the skies were overcast and the house was full of shadows even in the afternoon. Mrs. Buckle going up to the attic rooms came hurrying down to say there was a pool of water on the floor of the attic. It was coming through the roof.

The roof had always been a matter for anxiety. Aunt Charlotte had had it patched up now and then but I remembered the last occasion when we were told it needed major repairs. Aunt Charlotte had said she couldn’t afford it.

I was feeling very melancholy when Chantel arrived. How pretty she looked in her dark nurse’s cloak which set off her lovely hair to advantage; her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled. “I couldn’t resist calling,” she told me. “Miss Beddoes drove me into the high street and I’m joining her in an hour’s time. I was terrified that you’d be out.”

“Oh Chantel, it is good to see you!” I poured out everything that had happened; my visit to the bank manager, my fears about Ellen and the leaking roof.

“My poor Anna! What shall you do? You must have that money your aunt left me. I can’t imagine why she should have done such a thing. I’d only been here such a short time.”

“She quickly grew fond of you … as anyone would.”

“You must satisfy me by taking that money back.”

“You know I’d do no such thing.”

“Well, at least it’s there if you want it. What are you going to do?”

“The bank tells me I should sell up.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can try. There’s the house. That should fetch something.”

She nodded gravely. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing, Anna.”

“I wish I could be sure.”

“Have you written it all in your journal?”

“How could I when you had it?”

“As you have mine. You must give me mine back. Things must be written when they happen, otherwise they lose their flavor. One forgets so quickly the essential feeling of the moment.”

“It was wonderful reading it, Chantel. I thought I was there.”

“How I wish you were! What fun that would be. If only they wanted an antique adviser at the Castle!”

“Did anyone ever want such a thing?”

“It’s fascinating, Anna. I’m intrigued by it. It’s not only the place which is so unusual, it’s them.”

“I know. I could sense that. Has anything else happened?”

“I’ve consolidated my position. I’m getting to know them all so much better. I’m no longer the stranger within their gates.”

“And this man … Rex?”

“Now why did you pick on him?”

“I fancied he had appealed to you rather specially.”

“That’s because you’re thinking of romance. Now do you think that the heir to all those millions is going to be interested, seriously, in his sister-in-law’s nurse?”

“I am sure he must be interested.”

“The important word is seriously.” She laughed, and I said: “Well, at least you are not thinking of him seriously.”

“I’m so frivolous, as you know.”

“Not always. I shall always remember you, Chantel, at the inquest. You weren’t frivolous then.”

“I have my serious moments.”

“I can’t get Aunt Charlotte out of my mind.”

“Stop it,” she said sternly. “You must get her out of your mind. It’s all over. It’s finished. What you have to think of now is what you are going to do. Is it very bad?”

“Very. The debts are double, treble what I thought. Aunt Charlotte seemed to lose her judgment. She bought the most unsalable things. I shall never get half what she paid for them, and toward the end she let the debts mount up. At one time she was always so meticulous.”

“Her illness changed her. It does change people.”

“It certainly changed her.”

“You ought to get away, Anna. This is no place for you.”

“Chantel, it is sweet of you to care so much what becomes of me.”

“Why Anna, I look on you as my sister.”

“We have not really known each other long.”

“Time is not always the foundation on which friendship is built. You can know more of some people in a month than you can of others in years. All that happened here brought us together. I’d like us to stay like that, Anna.”