“I want it too. But you have sisters.”

She grimaced. “It’s odd how one loses touch with one’s family. My sister Selina married and stayed in the village where my father had his living, Katey married a doctor and went up to Scotland.”

“And do you never see them?”

“I haven’t since I nursed Lady Henrock; you see I came straight to you and there wasn’t time to go home; and it’s so far away in any case. Right up in Yorkshire.”

“I expect they would love to see you.”

“They were years older than I, grown up when I was born. I was the afterthought, they used to say. My mother grew sentimental before I was born; she took my name from an old tombstone in the graveyard beside the vicarage. Someone named Chantel was buried there. She departed this life aged twenty-four years. Chantel Spring, her name was. My mother said, If it’s a girl I shall call her Chantel Spring. And she did. I’m Chantel Spring Loman. At least that’s the story I heard. I never knew my mother. I killed her getting born.”

“Killed her! What an expression. You speak as though it were your fault.”

“One feels a certain responsibility.”

“My dear Chantel, that is quite wrong. You should get that out of your head without delay.”

“Look here,” she said with a laugh, “I came to give you my advice not ask for yours.”

“Well, what is yours?”

“Don’t worry. Sell up if you have to. And then we’ll go on from there.”

“You’re a comfort to me, Chantel.”

Then we talked about the Castle and what had been happening up there. She was certainly excited about the place. She was like a girl in love, I thought, but with the Castle. Unless that was a blind. I was certain that she was very interested in Rex Crediton; but she did not seem in the least bit apprehensive, although she had said he could not possibly be serious about the nurse.

I didn’t want her to be hurt, as I had been. It seemed an odd coincidence that she whom I had really begun to think of as the sister I always longed to have, should become too interested in one of those brothers — as I was in the other — too interested, that was, for our comfort.


* * *

I felt so much better when she had gone. I was cheered; I felt that whatever was going to happen I could cope with it.

I longed to hear more about the Castle; she took her journal away and said that she must “make it up” as soon as possible. I told her I was longing to read the next installment.

“And you must write yours too, Anna. I want to know everything you do, everything you think, nothing held back. It’s the only way to see the truth.”

I agreed.


* * *

It was some time before I read her journal again. In the meantime I had come to the conclusion that I would have to sell up. I had even considered selling the house. I saw a house agent who told me that this would not be easy. It was an interesting house but no repairs had been done for years. The roof was leaking; there was woodworm in one of the floors and dry rot on the river side. “You’re too near the river and the place is damp. Houses like this are very picturesque but they need fortunes spent on them from time to time. Don’t forget this one has been standing here for the last four hundred years. It would be folly to put the house up for sale because so much has to be spent on it you would get practically nothing for it.”

The best suggestion he could make was that I let the house for a peppercorn rent with the proviso that the tenant must keep it in good repair. This meant that for the privilege of living in the house the tenant would have to see to that leaking roof, that woodworm and dry rot.

“It seems a possible way out,” I said.

“Believe me,” was the answer. “It’s the only way out.”


* * *

So I made up my mind. I was going to sell up, pay the debts; let the house. I should have little — perhaps nothing; but I should be free of encumbrances.

What I should do then had still to be decided; but these arrangements took so long to settle that I still had months in which to think about my future.

Meanwhile events were taking place at the Castle and of these I learned through Chantel — but chiefly and most vividly through her journal.

7

May 9th. I went to see Anna today and heard what they are advising her. I think it will be good for her to get away from the Queen’s House and all its associations — as long as she doesn’t go too far and I can’t see her now and then. I wish there was a means of getting her to the Castle. What fun it would be if we could talk over things as they happen. Today Edith Baines came to my room to bring some medicine Dr. Elgin had left for my patient and we talked. She is very different from her sister Ellen. Very dignified — mistress of the maids and wife to Mr. Baines! She regards me as an equal which means I am treated to graciousness without condescension which is amusing, and also profitable. I believe Edith knows a great deal about the “secrets” of the Castle. She did confide in me that there would shortly be a bit of a “to-do” in the household. Lady Crediton had summoned her yesterday and told her that she had invited the Derringhams for the first week in June. “So,” said Edith, “we shall have some fun and games, and that makes work, Mr. Baines has been told to have the ballroom floor repolished; and I hear she’s already been seeing the gardeners.”

“The Derringhams?” I said. “They would be important people I imagine since Lady Crediton thinks so highly of them.”

“In a way,” said Edith, “they’re our rivals.” Edith always implies she has a share in the Lady Line. “But all very friendly, of course. Sir Henry is a friend of Mr. Rex and of her ladyship. As a matter of fact I think Sir Henry and Lady Crediton have decided that Helena will do very well for Mr. Rex.”

“Do very well?”

“A match. Link the businesses. That’s always a good thing. My goodness, what a power we’d be — Creditons and Derringhams together.”

“It all sounds reasonable,” I said.

Edith raised her eyes to the ceiling: “It makes work. And some of those girls are so lazy. You’ve no idea. At least we’ll get Mr. Crediton safely married. After the Captain doing what he did.”

“The Captain’s a very mysterious person to me.”

“That’s what comes of … well,” Edith folded her arms primly. “It’s not the same is it? After all who was his mother? She seems like a lady, and there she is waited on hand and foot up in her turret. Jane Goodwin waits on her — thinks the world of her. But I mean to say who was she to start with? Although of course she was a lady’s maid.” Edith had a close knowledge of the social hierarchy of those who served the rich.

This was cozy. People like Edith were the best sort of informants. They were so righteous; they had such a sense of family. Edith for instance would have been astonished if she were accused of gossiping. Her respect for the family was great but so was her interest in it; and in talking to me she was not discussing it with one of the lower servants.

“I should think Mrs. Stretton was very beautiful when she was young,” I prompted.

“I fail to see that that excuses her.”

“And what of Sir Edward?”

“It should have been hushed up. But …” Her eyes had fallen on a speck of dust on my cabinet which seemed of as great concern to her as the conduct of Sir Edward with his wife’s lady’s maid. I hastily diverted her attention from it. I did not want young Betsy whose task it was to dust my quarters to be scolded on my account. I wanted to be on pleasant terms with everyone.

“Why wasn’t it hushed up?” I said quickly.

“My mother told me. She had a post in the household before her marriage and that was why I was taken on in the first place. Mrs. Stretton — as she calls herself — is nearly twenty years younger than her ladyship, who was married fifteen years before Mr. Rex was born. It appears that Sir Edward believed her ladyship was barren. She was a wonderful help to him; she understood the business; she entertained when necessary — she was an excellent wife in every way but one. She could not produce a healthy child. And of course what Sir Edward wanted was a son to carry on the business.”

“Naturally, he’d want a son.”

“Her ladyship had had several failures. Sir Edward was in despair. Then her ladyship was pregnant but no one thought her pregnancy would come to a satisfactory end. It never had before and she was nearly forty. The doctors were dubious and even feared for her life. It became known that Valerie Stretton was about to have a child — and Sir Edward admitted parentage. Sir Edward wanted a son — legitimate if possible — but he wanted a son. There were two chances of getting one and Valerie Stretton seemed the more likely one. He was always a law unto himself. He snapped his fingers at local scandal and no one dared oppose him — not even Lady Crediton who was furious that her lady’s maid should be kept in the house. But Sir Edward always had his way — even with her ladyship. The strange thing was that her ladyship was brought to bed only two days after Valerie Stretton had given birth. Sir Edward was wild with joy because his mistress had had a healthy boy; he’d got his son. And a few days later Lady Crediton’s boy was born. He’d got two sons, but he wasn’t going to lose one of them. Sir Edward, they said, tried for everything and that was why he had got such a great deal. He wanted his wife and his mistress; and what Sir Edward wanted was done. So the two boys were to be brought up in the Castle and Sir Edward doted on both of the boys, though of course he was very strict with them. He was always talking about ‘my sons.’ Valerie Stretton’s was christened Redvers, but Lady Crediton wanted everyone to know who was the important one, so her baby was christened Rex — the King. Rex would inherit the business; but Master Red would be very well looked after; he’d have a share … a minor one of course; and Red was all for going away to sea and Rex was all for juggling with money. So they were different in their ways. But Rex is the Crediton. I wonder Sir Edward didn’t make Redvers change his name too. I’ve heard that if anything should happen to Rex …”