“Dickon never goes now,” I said.

“Well, no, but he keeps an eye on things though. He always goes through accounts and that sort of thing himself… as he does here. But I have always felt his main interest was in London.”

“Secret matters?”

“I’m glad not to be involved in that.”

“I am glad too. It is better so…”

“Much more suited to Jonathan. In fact we both fitted into our different niches very satisfactorily… don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do, and I’m glad you got this particular niche.”

“The best thing I ever got was you, Claudine.”

Was it? I wondered. If you knew everything, would you really think that? And the weight of my sin enveloped me and spoilt the beauty of the morning.

“I want to go and have a look at Lammings Bridge,” said David. “I thought it was a little shaky yesterday. It may need propping up a little.”

“It would be disastrous if it collapsed while someone was riding over it.”

“Yes, the river is fairly deep at that point. It could be dangerous. We’ll just call at the cottage first and tell them I’m sending a thatcher along to look at the roofs. There might be other things that need attention.”

I knew it was David’s policy to talk to tenants and explain what was going on, and that made it easy for them to bring their troubles to him. I realized afresh that morning what an ideal relationship he had established with the tenants. It could never have been the same when Eversleigh was Dickon’s main concern. I think they must all have been afraid of him.

I was proud of David and my spirits rose again.

Yes, I was happy. I thought, as I had a thousand times before: I must never make him unhappy. I owe that to him, and the only way I can make sure of that is by keeping my secret.

“We mustn’t forget the bridge,” said David.

“Come on then.”

There it was—Lammings Bridge, named, so I believed, after the man who had built it more than a hundred years ago. It was small wonder that it was in need of repair since it had stood the stress of weather and traffic all that time.

We dismounted and tethered our horses to some bushes on the bank. David prodded the wood.

“Yes,” he said, “it’s a little broken here. Can easily be patched up though, I think. Oh, not a great deal to be done… if taken in hand quickly.”

I leaned on the parapet and surveyed the scene. It was very peaceful with weeping willows trailing into the water and loosestrife giving a touch of purple to the banks. Then I saw something in the water. I stared. It looked like a woman.

“David,” I called shrilly.

He was at my side immediately.

“Look!” I cried. “What’s that? Over there?”

“Oh God…” he murmured under his breath. Then we ran across the bridge and down to the riverbank.

I shall never forget that moment. She lay there, white and still; she appeared to be smiling… peacefully. She was beautiful. Oh poor, unhappy Evie!

David brought her out of the water and laid her on the bank.

He said: “She’s been dead for hours. Poor… poor child. What could have made her?”

We looked at each other in horror, and though we did not speak, we were thinking of Harry Farringdon.

“There’s nothing we can do for her,” said David. “We’ll have to get the doctor and some conveyance.”

“Oh what a terrible tragedy,” I said. “Poor Evie… and poor Mrs. Trent… and Dolly.”

Soberly we rode back.

What followed was terrible. We were all shattered. She had been such a gentle, pleasant girl, so pretty too. It was tragic to realize that she was dead. I kept thinking of her smiling in her quiet way with Harry Farringdon.

She must really have cared for him. The news of his engagement would have been brought to her. Mary Lee would have talked to the servants of Eversleigh and they would have carried the news to those of Grasslands.

What a cruel fate! She must have thought he was serious in his affections for her; she had clearly loved him, and when he became engaged to someone else, found life unbearable.

I wondered what was happening at Grasslands. I wondered whether to go over and see, but was unsure. Evie had met Harry Farringdon under our roof. It was no fault of ours, but Mrs. Trent would be distracted. She would blame us perhaps.

There were startling revelations to come.

Evie Mather was pregnant and had been so for the last three months.

This was worse than ever. Poor girl! Why had she not talked to someone? My mother would have done anything to help her and so would I. David certainly would… even Dickon. He was always lenient with that sort of predicament.

But she had kept it to herself. I could imagine the devastating effect this was going to have on that household.

People spoke of it in hushed whispers. In the servants’ hall I was sure they spoke of nothing else.

I felt I must go and see Mrs. Trent because there was a special sort of relationship between us since she had told me that Evie was connected with our family, as Richard Mather had been truly Dickon’s son.

It was with great trepidation that I called.

I had not told David or my mother that I was going, for I felt sure they would try to dissuade me. Indeed I should have needed little dissuasion, for I was very unsure whether I should be welcome.

The curtains were all drawn across the windows. The door was opened by a servant who took me into a little room which led from the hall. She said she would tell Mrs. Trent that I had come.

After a while Dolly came in. Her face was distorted by grief and her eyes seemed more awry than ever.

“Oh, Dolly,” I said, “I’m so terribly sorry. This is heartbreaking.”

Her lips quivered. “She’s gone. Our Evie… gone forever. I shall never see her again.”

“Oh Dolly.” I was crying with her.

“There wasn’t any need,” said Dolly. “She would have been all right.”

“We would have taken care of her,” I said.

“I would have taken care of her… and the little baby as well.”

I nodded. “How is your grandmother taking it?”

“She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t sleep. She thought the world of Evie.”

“I know. I would have come. My mother would have come, but we were not sure whether she would wish to see us… just yet.”

“Yes, she wants to see you.”

“I would like to comfort her. I wish I knew how.”

“There’s no comfort,” said Dolly, “or not much. But she wants to see you.”

“Is she in bed?”

“She’s up there. She doesn’t seem to know where she is.”

“Shall I go up?”

“Yes. I’ll take you.”

Mrs. Trent came out of her bedroom and we went into a small dressing room. There were two chairs in it and we sat down. Dolly stood by the door. Mrs. Trent was wearing a grey dressing gown which she must have slipped over her nightdress. Her face was blotched with weeping and her eyes swollen. She did not look like the perky Mrs. Trent we had known.

I took both her hands in mine and on impulse kissed her cheek.

“Oh, Mrs. Trent, I am so sorry. We are all so distressed.”

She nodded, too emotional to speak.

“If only we could have known… we could have done something,” I said.

“I’d like to murder him,” she muttered, coming to life. “I’d take him to that river and I’d hold his head down and not let him go until he was dead… as she is.”

“I understand how you feel.”

“She couldn’t face it, you see. She couldn’t face me. I shouldn’t have made her feel like that. She ought to have been able to come to me in trouble.”

“You mustn’t say that, Mrs. Trent. I know you would always have done anything for her.”

“I would and all… but she knew how I’d set my heart on her doing well. I’ve gone wrong somewhere.”

“You always did your best, Mrs. Trent. None could say other than that. You must not blame yourself.”

“I blame him,” she said fiercely. “The dirty swine! He deceived her, he did… promised he’d marry her and when this happens it’s goodbye and he goes off to marry a real lady. She was a real lady, my Evie was.”

“Yes, of course, Mrs. Trent.”

She clenched her hands together and I knew she was imagining them round the throat of Harry Farringdon.

“And now there’s this Reverend gentleman… the vicar. He won’t take my Evie. He says the likes of her can’t be buried among decent folks.”

“No, Mrs. Trent!”

“Yes. He says suicides can’t be buried in consecrated ground. They will put her at the crossroads. They’ll give her the suicide’s grave. I just can’t bear that… not for my little Evie.”

“Something will have to be done about that.”

She looked at me with hope in her eyes.

“I’ll go and see the Reverend Manning. Or my husband will. Don’t worry about that, Mrs. Trent. Evie is going to be buried properly. There must be no doubt about that.”

“It’s kind of you… and it’s her due. You know who she is. It’s different I suppose with the gentry. No one would think of putting them anywhere but in a proper grave.”

I was glad that there was something I could do, something which would relieve her, even though nothing could ever bring Evie back. I said: “I will go along to the vicarage now and see him. Don’t worry, Mrs. Trent. I am sure it will be all right.”

“Thank you,” she said; and there was that glint of determination in her eyes which I had noticed before her grief had descended upon her and made her a pathetic shadow of what she had been. “It’s her due,” she said with a certain firmness.

Dolly conducted me to the door.

“Goodbye,” I said. “I will do everything I can.”