“Yes.”

She was delighted. “Well, when I saw you, it did occur to me. There are so few strangers you see and we had heard that you were coming today.”

“You belong to the household?”

“No…no. We’re at Lovat Mill…just outside, of course. The vicarage. My husband is the vicar. We’re friends of the Stacys. In fact the girls come over to my husband for lessons. We’re only a mile or so from the House. Sylvia takes lessons with them, don’t you, Sylvia?”

Sylvia said “Yes, Mamma,” in a very quiet voice. And I thought it not unlikely that Mamma ruled the household—including the vicar.

Sylvia seemed meek enough but there was something about the line of her jaw and the set of her lips that belied her meekness, and I imagined her humility might evaporate with the departure of Mamma.

“I daresay the vicar will ask you if you will take on Sylvia at the same time as the Stacy girls.”

“Is Sylvia interested in music?” I was smiling at Sylvia who looked at her mother.

“She is going to be,” said that lady firmly.

Sylvia smiled rather faintly and threw back the plait which hung over her right shoulder. I noticed the rather spatulate fingers which did not look to me like those of a pianist. I could already hear Sylvia’s painful performance at the piano.

“I am so pleased that you are not one of those archaeologist people. I was very much against letting them invade Lovat Stacy.”

“You don’t approve of this sort of discovery?”

“Discovery!” she retorted. “Of what use are their discoveries? If we had been meant to know these things were there, they would not have been covered up, would they?”

This amazing logic was all against my upbringing, but this forceful woman was clearly expecting a reply, and as I did not want to antagonize her because I guessed she could probably tell me a good deal about Lovat Stacy, I smiled noncommittally, murmuring an inner apology to my parents and Roma.

“They came down here…disturbing everything. Goodness gracious me, one could not move without coming across them. Pails, spades…digging up the earth, completely ruining several acres of the park…And to what purpose? To uncover these Roman remains! ‘There are plenty of them all over the country,’ I said to the vicar. ‘We don’t want them here.’ One of these people came to a strange end…or perhaps it wasn’t an end. Who’s to say. She disappeared.”

I felt a prickling down my spine. I felt that I might betray my relationship with the one who had disappeared; and that was something which I was determined not to do. I said quickly: “Disappeared?”

“Oh yes. It was all very strange. She was there in the morning…and no one saw her after that. She disappeared during the day.”

“Where did she go?”

“That’s what a lot of people would like to know. Her name was…what was her name, Sylvia?”

Sylvia’s spatulate fingers with the bitten nails clenched themselves, betraying her tension, and for a moment I thought she was disturbed because she knew something about Roma’s disappearance; then I realized that she was in awe of her mother, particularly when she asked a question to which she might not be able to find the answer.

But she had this one. “It was Miss Brandon…Miss Roma Brandon.”

The woman nodded. “That was it. One of these unwomanly women…” She shivered. “Digging! Climbing about! Most unnatural, I call it. It was very likely a punishment for meddling. Some people say it was due to that. There’s quite a superstition about it. This…whatever it was that happened to her…took place because she had meddled. A sort of curse. I think it ought to be a lesson to these people.”

“But they’ve all left now?” I asked.

“Oh yes, yes. They were about to leave when this happened. Of course, when the fuss started it delayed them. It’s my belief she was taking a bathe and was caught by the currents. A most immodest habit, bathing. It’s the easiest thing to get carried out to sea. A sort of judgment. People should be more careful. But the local people will tell you that it was some sort of revenge. One of these Roman gods or someone who didn’t like his house being disturbed saying: Take that for meddling. The vicar and I try to tell them this is nonsense but at the same time it does seem a rough sort of justice.”

“Did you ever meet this…woman who disappeared?”

“Meet her. Oh no. We didn’t meet those people, although they were rather friendly with some of them up at the House. Then Sir William is a little odd. Mind you, they are a very great family and of course we are friends. People of our sort do tend to stand together in a small community; and because of the girls we are constantly seeing one another. By the way, I don’t think I asked you your name.”

“It is Caroline Verlaine. Mrs. Verlaine.”

I watched her anxiously, wondering whether she would connect me with Roma. Although Essie had assured me that Sir William did not know I was Roma’s sister, there had been a great deal of publicity at the time of her disappearance. Roma was after all Pietro’s sister-in-law; he was famous; and this might have been mentioned. I felt ridiculously dismayed. But I need not have worried. It was clear that my name meant nothing to the vicar’s lady.

“Yes, I heard you were a widow,” she said. “Frankly I had expected someone much older.”

“I have been a widow for a year now.”

“Ah, sad, sad.” She allowed a little pause as an expression of her compassion. “I am Mrs. Rendall…and this is of course Miss Rendall.”

I bowed my head in acknowledgment of the introduction.

“I heard that you hold many diplomas and such like.”

“I have some diplomas.”

“That must be very nice.”

I lowered my head to hide my smile.

“You will find Allegra a handful, I don’t doubt. The vicar says her mind never stays on one subject for more than a few seconds at a time. A mistake to educate her. A servant’s child even though…But it’s disgraceful. Such a complicated household…and none of them related. It’s so odd of Sir William to allow that little Alice Lincroft to share. But she’s such a quiet girl. One can’t really take exception. She is treated like the others…Sylvia is allowed to be their companion.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s very difficult, but since Sir William accepts them what can we do?”

Sylvia seemed alert as though she were listening intently. Poor Sylvia! She would be one of those children who spoke only when spoken to. Again I felt grateful to my own parents.

“And who is Alice Lincroft exactly?”

“The housekeeper’s daughter, if you please. Mind you Mrs. Lincroft is a very superior housekeeper. And she was with the family before her marriage. She was companion to Lady Stacy, then she left and came back after she was widowed…came back with Alice. The child was only about two years old then…so she has lived most of her life at Lovat Stacy. It would be intolerable of course if she were not such a quiet child. But she gives no trouble—unlike Allegra. But that was a flagrant mistake. There’ll be trouble with that girl one day. I have often said so to the vicar and he agrees with me.”

“And Lady Stacy?”

“She died quite a long time ago…before Mrs. Lincroft came back as housekeeper.”

“And there is another young lady whom I am to teach.”

Mrs. Rendall smirked. “Edith Cowan…or rather Edith Stacy now. I must say it is all very odd. A married woman…poor thing.”

“Because she is married?” I prompted.

“Married!” snorted Mrs. Rendall. “I must say that was a very odd arrangement. I said so to the vicar and I shall continue to say so. Of course it is clear to me why Sir William arranged it.”

“Sir William?” I put in. “Didn’t the young couple have anything to say about it?”

“My dear young lady, when you have been at Lovat Stacy for a day you will learn that there is only one person who has any say in affairs there and that is Sir William. Sir William took Edith in and made her his ward and then he decided to bring Napier back and marry them off.” She lowered her voice. “Of course,” she excused her indiscretion, “you will soon be one of the household so you will discover these things sooner or later. It was only the Cowan money which could have induced Sir William to have Napier back.”

“Oh?” I was prompting her to go on but I think she realized she had been a little too communicative and she sat back in her seat, her lips pursed, her hands clasped in her lap, looking like an avenging goddess.

The train rocked in silence while I was trying to think of an opening gambit which would lure the loquacious woman to further indiscretions when Sylvia said timidly: “We are almost there, Mamma.”

“So we are,” cried Mrs. Rendall, getting to her feet and scattering parcels. “Oh dear, I wonder if this wool is the right ply for the vicar’s socks.”

“I am sure it is, Mamma. You chose it.”

I studied the girl sharply. Was that a little irony? However Mamma did not appear to have noticed. “Here,” she said to the girl, “take this.”

I too had risen and took down my bags from the rack. I was aware of Mrs. Rendall’s eyes on them, assessing them as she had assessed me.

“I daresay you’ll be met,” she said and gave Sylvia a little push after which she followed her daughter onto the platform and turning to me continued: “Ah yes, there is Mrs. Lincroft.” She called in her somewhat shrill and penetrating voice: “Mrs. Lincroft. Here is the young person you are looking for.”

I had alighted and stood with my two large bags beside me. The vicar’s wife gave me a brief nod and another to the approaching woman and went off with Sylvia at her heels.