Evie said: “Oh yes, we do.”

“And I’ll come and dance at your wedding. You girls will have to wait a bit for yours. But I’ve a feeling Evie won’t have so long. Well, we’ll see.”

We rose and thanked her for the wine, and she came out with us to our horses. Evie and Dolly came with her and stood looking at us while we mounted.

Mrs. Trent slapped the flanks of my horse affectionately.

“I’ll be at the wedding,” she said. “I have a special interest in your family.”

I don’t know why it was—perhaps because of the mood she aroused in me—but I thought the words sounded ominous.

As we rode away, David said: “She is rather ill-bred, but I don’t think she means any harm.”

So he must have felt the same as I did. I agreed that she was ill-bred, but I was not so sure of the harm; but my apprehension did seem rather foolish so I pressed my horse into a gallop. I felt I wanted to put a distance between myself and Grasslands.

We slowed down as we came to the road. “They must have been at Grasslands for a long time,” I said.

“Well, Mrs. Trent went there as housekeeper, and married old Andrew Mather.”

“Yes, I heard that. The girls’ father was her son.”

“Yes, by her first husband. He managed the estate very well until his death. Now she has quite a good manager.”

“Grasslands is very different from that other house… Enderby.”

“Very. Always was. It’s odd about Enderby.”

“Do you believe that houses have an effect on people? They do say that Enderby is unlucky.”

David laughed. “How can a house be? It’s only bricks or stone. They can’t change luck, can they?”

“Let’s go and look at the old place. Just a glimpse. It’s up this way, isn’t it?”

I turned off the road and David followed me. As we rounded a bend, there was the old house. I have to admit that even in broad daylight it sent a shiver through me. It looked dark and menacing, as neglected houses will sometimes. The shrubs about it were thick and untended.

“It looks very dejected,” said David.

“And at the same time defiant,” I replied.

He laughed. “Can a house look so?”

“Enderby does. Come on. I want a close look. Do you think anyone will ever buy it?”

“Not in the state it’s in. It’s been empty for years. Because of its reputation probably.”

“David, I want to look closer.”

“Hasn’t Grasslands been enough for one morning?”

“Perhaps because of Grasslands.”

He looked at me puzzled. Then he smiled and said: “All right. Let’s go.”

We tethered our horses to the post which was set there conveniently for the use of visitors and went to the front door. It was silent, eerie. There was a rusty bell which I pulled, and we stood listening to the jangling which echoed through the house.

“No use ringing the bell,” said David. “Whom do you expect to answer it?”

“Ghosts,” I said. “People who have lived in the house and can’t rest because of their sins. Wasn’t there a murder here once?”

“If there was it’s ancient history.”

“It’s ancient history that makes ghosts.”

“Claudine, I believe there’s a side to your nature which I have not discovered. You believe in evil spirits. Do you, Claudine?”

“I don’t know, but I should if I were made aware of them. In fact, David, I would believe anything in the world if I had evidence of it.”

“Well, that is the crux of the matter. Are you going to believe without proof?”

“Standing here… in the shadow of this house… I could.”

“We can’t get in because there is no one to let us in.”

“Is there a key somewhere… just in case of a prospective buyer?”

“I believe it is with Mrs. Trent. She’s the nearest neighbour. You’re not going to propose that we go back and ask for it, are you?”

I shook my head emphatically. “Still, I should like to explore a bit.”

David, ever willing to please, followed me round the house. We fought our way through overgrown weeds in the long grass. When I found the window with the broken latch, I pushed it open and looked into the hall.

“David,” I said excitedly. “We could climb through here. Do let’s.”

He did, and standing in the hall turned to help me in, and soon we were there, looking up at the vaulted ceiling and the minstrels’ gallery and the wide staircase at one end of the hall.

“That,” said David, “is said to be the haunted spot. It all started when someone in financial difficulties, I think, tried to hang himself with a rope suspended from the gallery. The rope was too long and he landed on his feet suffering terrible agonies. Ever since then the house has been cursed.”

“Sabrina lived here in her childhood.”

“Yes. But even when she was well she avoided coming here. The house was quite normal then because her mother, who was a very good woman, made it so. And after she died her husband was heartbroken and it reverted to its gloomy aspect. That shows, does it not, that it is people who make the house what it is—not stone and bricks?”

“You win,” I said.

And he laughed. He put an arm about me. “There you are, Madam. An undesirable property. But one which could be made desirable… by the right people.”

“Who in their right minds would want to live in such a place? Think of all the work which would have to be done.”

“Nothing that a few gardeners could not alter in a month. To my mind it’s the darkness. It’s all that growth outside.”

“Come and look at the haunted gallery then.”

We mounted the staircase. I parted the curtains. They were thick with dust. I went in and stood looking down on the hall. Yes, there was an eerie atmosphere. The house seemed silent, watchful.

I shivered, but said nothing to David. He would not notice. He was too practical.

We looked down to the other end of the hall, to the screens with the kitchens beyond. I could imagine the people who had danced in this hall; and I wondered what it would be like here when darkness fell. It really was ghostly, and one’s imagination might play tricks. No one would ever want to come and live here and the house would crumble and decay.

We went up the staircase, our footsteps echoing through the house. We looked into the bedrooms. There were many of them, and some of the furniture must have been there for years—such as the old court cupboard in one room and the four-poster bed in another.

I had a feeling that I wanted to be alone here—just for a few moments. David was too prosaic, too unimaginative to feel the atmosphere as I did. Of course, I was fanciful and was allowing myself to pretend I felt something which I had probably worked up within myself.

I slipped into one of the rooms. I could hear David’s footsteps in another and I guessed he was examining the old court cupboard.

Silence! Just a faint murmur in the trees which grew so thickly round the house. I heard a sound. It must have been the swaying lattice of the broken window downstairs, but it startled me.

Then suddenly I heard a sibilant whisper. It seemed to fill the room. It was: “Beware… beware, little bride.”

I felt myself go cold with horror. I looked quickly round. Someone had spoken. I had distinctly heard those words. I ran to the door and looked along the corridor to the staircase. There was no sign of anyone.

David emerged from the room in which he had been.

I said: “Did you hear someone?”

He looked surprised. “There’s no one here,” he said.

“I thought I heard…”

“You’re imagining things,” he said.

I nodded. I now had a great desire to get away. I had known there was something malevolent about the house.

We went quickly down the staircase to the hall. All the time I was looking about me to see if there was any sign of anyone’s being in the house.

There was nothing.

David helped me through the window. I tried to stop my hands trembling as he helped me into the saddle.

“Can you see anyone’s trying to make a home of that place?” said David.

“I can’t really. I think it is full of evil ghosts.”

“And cobwebs and spiders’ webs doubtless.”

“Horrible.”

“Never mind, my dearest. It makes you appreciate Eversleigh all the more.”

Eversleigh… My home forever… surrounded by love, the love of my mother and my husband. And if Jonathan ever came home…?

I tried not to think of that but I could not stop myself. I kept hearing those words: “Beware, little bride.”

The days which followed were very busy and I forgot our visit to Enderby. It was only occasionally—and in dreams—that those words kept coming back to my mind.

It was to be a moderately quiet wedding. The absence of Jonathan, Charlot and Louis Charles could not be lightly brushed aside. However much we tried to forget it, and while we were in doubt as to where they were and what was happening to them, ours must be an anxious household. It was seven months since they had left and that seemed a long time.

The hall was being decorated with plants from the greenhouses and there was an atmosphere of bustle everywhere; savoury smells emerged from the kitchen and the cook was making an enormous wedding cake over which she seemed to be puffing and groaning every time I went into the kitchen.

We should have a few people staying in the house—those who came from too far to be able to get home on the evening of the wedding day; those in the not-too-distant neighbourhood could attend the ceremony and the reception which was to follow and then start the journey home.

The marriage was to take place in the Eversleigh chapel, which was reached from the hall by a short spiral staircase. It was not small—as chapels in country houses go—but on the other hand it was not large and would therefore, I was sure, be overcrowded. My mother had said that the servants could sit on the staircase if there was not room for them inside the chapel.