“It’s no use your trying to pretend it wasn’t marvellous,” said Millicent sternly. “You are really very brave.”

“I am a very perfect gentle knight,” said Jonathan. “I deserve all your adulation, and most gratefully accept it… and shall probably beg for more. It is a commodity I have a great fancy for. You cannot give me too much of it.”

Millicent slipped her arm through his. She was a little forward, I supposed, for the manners of our day, but her mother showed no sign of disapproving, which told me that the redoubtable Lady Pettigrew smiled on Jonathan as a future son-in-law.

I was restless and uncertain. I wanted to see Jonathan alone. I wanted to tell him that there must be no more love-making between us. I wanted to ask him what his feelings were for Millicent Pettigrew, and if that state of bantering flirtation which seemed to exist between them had any meaning behind it.

I had said I would not be at the rendezvous that afternoon but I was making excuses to myself. I wanted to talk to him, I kept assuring myself. I wanted to stress that our dangerous relationship must cease.

Or did I merely want to be with him? Did I know in my heart that once we were alone in that room, once he held me close to him, I would give way as I had before?

I watched them go off riding. I said I had certain things to do and could not join them. Jonathan waved to me as he rode off. His plan was to lose them as quickly as he could, return to the stables and leave his horse there, for it would be dangerous to tether it outside the house where it could be seen. It would not take him long to hurry across the fields.

In spite of having promised myself not to go, I set out.

I must talk to him, I must, I kept saying to myself.

That was my excuse.

I was a few minutes early. I hesitated at the door. My inclination was to wait outside, but that was foolish. What if someone passed by and saw me waiting there? Still, I hesitated. Was I afraid of an old house? To show myself that I was not, I took the key from my pocket, opened the door and went in, shutting it behind me. When he came, Jonathan would ring the bell. It was a little rusty, but it worked.

I advanced into the hall. Certainly it had changed and the minstrels’ gallery without its curtains looked quite ordinary. I could not imagine any ghosts hiding there now. It was all a matter of shadows and darkness. How right David had been about those overgrown shrubs. They had not been dealt with yet and Sophie had indicated that they would only be trimmed, so she would still retain some of the old house’s atmosphere.

I ran up the stairs to that room which I looked upon as ours.

I stood in it and thought of the first time. It had happened so swiftly that it had caught me unaware, and then once it had happened I was trapped; and it had been so easy, having made the first step, to go on.

How silent the house was!

Hurry, Jonathan, I thought.

Then I heard that voice… that whisper, preceded by a little laugh, and then: “Mrs. Frenshaw… remember the seventh commandment, Mrs. Frenshaw.”

I stood there stunned. For some seconds I could not move. I was straining my ears listening. There was no sound… nothing but that frightening silence.

I ran out of the room and as I reached the stairs the door bell was clanging through the house. I ran down and opened the door.

Jonathan was there. He caught me in his arms. “What’s wrong? What is it, Claudine?”

“I heard it again,” I said. “The voice…”

“Voice? Where?”

“In the room. Our room.”

“There’s no one here…”

“I heard it. I heard it distinctly.”

“Come on. We’ll have a look,” he said.

He put his arm round me and I clung to him. We ran up the stairs.

There was no one there.

He looked at me puzzled. “What was it like?”

“It was the way it was before… Echoing… Strangely muted.”

“You mean as if someone were trying to disguise the voice?”

“I don’t know. It laughed after it had said it. ‘Remember the seventh commandment.’”

“What nonsense!”

“But it’s apt, isn’t it? The voice… it knows.”

“My dear Claudine, I simply do not believe in disembodied voices.”

“I tell you I heard it… distinctly. Just as I heard it before.”

“Then there is someone here.”

“But how could it be… in that room?”

“Is that the only place where you have heard this voice?”

I nodded.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to look.”

We went into all the rooms, up to the next floor and the attics. Then we went down through the hall to the kitchens. It was as I guessed it would be—empty.

We were the only ones in the house.

“Where are you?” shouted Jonathan. “You of the idiot voice. Come out and show yourself.”

His voice gave back a faint echo. Then the house was quiet. Not a sound. I looked up at the vaulted ceiling, at the stone walls, at the gallery.

“There’s nobody here,” said Jonathan.

“It’s haunted,” I insisted. “It’s something horrible… something from the past.”

“You don’t believe that really. There must be some explanation, a logical one.”

“What?”

“Someone is here… was here… someone playing a trick.”

“Someone who knows—about us.”

He admitted solemnly: “Yes, someone who knows about us. Or,” he added, “you imagined you heard the voice.”

“I heard it distinctly.”

“You don’t take this lightly, do you?”

“Take it lightly! No, I do not. But you do, Jonathan. That’s what I am beginning to understand.”

“Claudine, you are the most important thing in the world to me.”

I shook my head.

“You are a very conventional lady,” he said. “Brought up in that formal society, eh? It has always amused me, the rigorous formality of the French and the exploits they indulge in… in secret, of course. However, they brought you up that way, and now your conscience worries you. I am beginning to think that it was that which you heard.”

“In other words, you believe I imagined I heard voices.”

“Perhaps you did, Claudine.”

“I did not.”

“Then who? We’ve been round the house. No one is here but us. Who could have got in? You let yourself in with the key and shut the door. Is there any other key?”

I said suddenly: “The window. Of course. David and I looked round once. I told you about it. And we came through a window.”

“Where?”

“It was somewhere in the hall.” I crossed the stone floor with speed.

I said: “This is it. Look! The latch is broken. Anyone who knew could get in through it. It’s simple.”

He stood looking at me in dismay.

“So you think someone was in the house when you came in. But how could that person talk to you in that room? You would have heard whoever it was running down the stairs and out through the window wouldn’t you?”

“I should think so.”

“Claudine, you imagined it. That’s the only answer. You imagined it.”

“No. I know the difference between imagination and reality.”

“Sometimes we all have fancies.”

“I heard that voice,” I said firmly. “Do you realize what it means? Someone knows… about us.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re working yourself up, Claudine. Forget it. We’re here, aren’t we? I had the devil of a job to elude them.”

“Millicent clung, I daresay.”

“With a certain tenacity, I admit. But I was determined to be with you, so I escaped.”

“Jonathan, I want to go.”

“Go! Why, we’ve only just come.”

“I came to tell you that it has to stop.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me with that expression of mock exasperation.

“I can’t go on deceiving David. I’ve got to stop it. I’m going to try to forget that it ever happened. You must too.”

“Never,” he said. “Forget the most wonderful experience of my life! You are asking too much. Come, my dearest. There is not much time, you know.”

“No,” I insisted. “I can’t. I must go.”

He drew me to him, but this time I felt stronger. I kept seeing David’s face and remembering how much I loved him.

I said: “I’m going back to Eversleigh. I should never have come. Jonathan, I couldn’t bear it if ever David discovered. I want everything to stay as it was between us.”

“It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t think. I only know that more than anything at the moment I want to get away from this house.”

“That silly old voice has unnerved you.”

“It has frightened me, Jonathan, and it has made me fully realize what I have done… to myself, to David and to you. I have betrayed my husband. You have betrayed your brother.”

“Darling Claudine, let’s drop the histrionics, shall we? I love you. I want you. I want you more than anything. Isn’t that good enough?”

“How can it be when I am your brother’s wife?”

“There you go again! I want you. You want me. We’ve had some wonderful times together. You’re a passionate woman, remember. You’ve wakened up. But you have this conscience that is bothering you. Everything is all right as long as we are careful.”

I could detect the faint irritation in his attitude. He had come to indulge his sexual desires and I was baulking him. I saw him then more clearly than I ever had and a terrible desolation swept over me. I had destroyed my marriage for a brief sensational excitement.

I had mistaken the shadow for the substance.

Desperately I wanted to go back; but how can one ever do that?

I turned and ran out of the house.