Виктория Холт - Time of the Hunter's Moon

I followed him out to the graves. I was shivering slightly.

He said: "Chill wind springing up. We get some rough winds here. It can be pretty biting when they blow from the east."

He wended his way through the tombstones and we came to a secluded corner. We were in a welltended patch where several rose trees and laurels had been planted. It must look very pretty in summer.

Then he said: "That's Sir Edward. You can see the date. Yes, it is just over twenty years. All these graves ... victims of the fire. That's Lady Compton and that's little Edward and Edwina his sister. Poor little mites. They never had a life. It makes you wonder, doesn't it. He was two years old and Edwina was five. They come into the world and then are taken away. It makes you wonder ... If they could look down and see what might have been ..."

"It's very kind of you to show me," I said.

"A pleasure. We don't get many interested. But I could see you were."

"Yes," I said, "and thank you very much."

I wanted to be alone. I wanted to think. This was the last thing I had expected to find.

I was glad of the long journey back during which I could ponder on what I had seen and try to grasp what it could possibly mean; but when I reached London I was no nearer solving the mystery.

Could it really be that the man I had seen was a spectre ... a ghost from the past?

That theory would explain many things. Yet I could not accept it. One thing was certain-there was no Edward Compton of Compton Manor. There had not been for more than twenty years!

Then who was the strange man who had made such an impression on me, who had looked at me-yes, I would confess it now-with admiration, and with something which indicated to me that we could have a closer relationship and that was what he was hoping for.

How could I have imagined the whole conception? He had been in the forest. Was it possible that in that forest which Lydia always said was a little spooky-the same word which Aunt Patty had used about the Abbey school-strange things could happen?

I must forget the incident. I could not allow it to go on occupying my thoughts. It was one of life's strange experiences. They did happen from time to time. I had read of them and there was no explanation.

I was sure I should be wise to try to put the entire matter out of my mind.

That was impossible. When I shut my eyes I could see that tombstone. Sir Edward Compton .. . and that of the little boy, another Edward.

It was mysterious ... rather frightening.

Oh yes. I must certainly try to put it out of my mind.

IT was a lovely spring day when I arrived at Colby Abbey station. I had been enchanted by the countryside which I had glimpsed through the windows of the train-lush green meadows and wooded hills and the rich red soil of Devonshire with the occasional glimpse of the sea.

The sun was warm although there was a slight nip in the air as though to remind me that summer had not yet come. I had said goodbye to Aunt Patty and Violet with much laughter, a few tears and constant reminders that we should all be together in the summer vacation. It was exhilarating as starting a new life must always be, and I was extremely fortunate in having Aunt Patty. Her last injunction had been: "If Madam Hetherington doesn't treat you with the right respect, you know what to do. But I think she'll behave herself. She knows that you are not exactly hers to command like some of those poor girls who have to toe the line or wonder where their next meal's coming from."

"You've always been a bulwark in my life," I told her.

"I hope that's not meant to be taken too literally, dear. I know I'm overfond of good food, but bulwark ... no, I don't like the sound of that."

That was how we parted. The last I saw of her from the train window, for she and Violet had come to London to see me off, was a smile though I knew the tears were not far off.

So here I was arrived at last, and as I stepped out of the train a man in smart livery came towards me and asked if my name was Miss Grant, for if so, he had come to drive me to Colby Abbey Academy where I was expected.

"The trap's in the yard, Miss. Be this your bag? 'Tis just a step or two ... nothing more."

I went through the barrier with him and there was what he called the trap - a rather smart two-heeled vehicle drawn by a grey horse.

He took my bags and stowed them away. "Reckon, Miss," he said, "you'll be comfortable up with me."

"Thank you," I said when he helped me up.

"It be a nice day for coming, Miss," he said. He had a black beard and dark curly hair-a stocky, middle-aged man, who spoke with that burr with which in time I should become familiar.

He was inclined to be talkative. As he whipped up the horse he said: "The young ladies will be coming next Tuesday. It'll give you time to settle in, Miss. Bit different when they'm all here, eh? Some of 'em stays at school this time of year though. It's only at Christmas and summer we have a full turn-out. Too far for some to go home, you do see?"

"Yes," I said.

"Do 'ee know Devon at all, Miss?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"You've got a real treat in store. God's own country. A little bit of heaven itself."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"It be true, Miss. Sir Francis Drake, now. He were a Devon man. Saved England from them Spaniards, they do say. It were a long time ago though. Glorious Devon they call it. Devonshire cream and cider ... They do make songs about it."

"Yes, I have heard some of them."

"You'll see the big house in a minute. The Abbey's a good three miles on."

"Is that the home of the Verringers?"

"Yes, that be the Hall. Look, there's. the grave-yard by the church."

Just at that moment a bell began to toll.

"There be the funeral today. Funny time to arrive, Miss, if 'ee don't mind me saying so. Her ladyship going out like and you coming in."

His beard shook. He seemed to find that rather amusing.

"Whose funeral did you say it was?"

"Lady Verringer's."

"Oh ... was she an elderly lady?"

"No. She'm Sir Jason's wife. Poor lady. Not much of a life. Been invalid for ten years or more. Fell from her horse. They don't have much luck... them Verringers. They be cursed, I reckon, like folks say."

"Oh?"

"Well, it goes back ... right a long way. And the Abbey and all that. There's stories about them. There'm folks as think it was either Abbey or Verringers and it ought to have been the Abbey."

"It sounds mysterious."

"Oh, it goes back a long way."

We had turned into a lane so narrow that the bushes from the hedges brushed the sides of the trap. Suddenly my driver pulled up. A carriage was coming towards us.

The driver of the carriage had pulled up too. He had no alternative and the two men were glaring at each other.

"You'll have to back, Emmet," said the driver of the carriage.

My driver-Emmet apparently-remained stubbornly stationary. "You've less far to go back, Tom Craddock," he said.

"I b'ain't going back," said Tom Craddock. "Look out, Nat Emmet, I've got Squire here."

I heard a voice shout: "What in God's name is going on here?" A face looked out of a window and I caught a glimpse of dark hair and angry dark eyes.

"'Tis Nat Emmet, Sir Jason. He be bringing the new Young lady to the school and he's blocking the road."

"Get back at once, Emmet," cried the imperious voice and the face disappeared.

"Yes, sir. Yes, Sir Jason. That's just what I be doing... "

"Be sharp about it."

Emmet got down and we started to move back, and finally reached the wide road.

The carriage came out at a sharp pace and the driver gave Nat Emmet a victorious grin as it went past. I tried to catch a glimpse of the man inside the carriage but he was out of sight.