Виктория Холт - Time of the Hunter's Moon

I said: "Go for Miss Hetherington at once."

Charlotte, who seemed really frightened, quickly obeyed.

Daisy was soon at the bedside, her fine white hair in two plaits tied with pale blue ribbon, but she looked as much in command as ever.

"Eugenie is ill!" she said. She leaned over the girl.

"Do you think we should get the doctor?" I asked. She shook her head. "Not just yet. It's probably only a bilious attack. We don't want the girls to know. They exaggerate so. There is some sal volatile in my room. Will you go and get it, Charlotte. It is in the cupboard on the right hand side."

Charlotte went.

"She has probably eaten something which doesn't agree with her," said Daisy. "It happens now and then. What did they have for supper?"

"It was fish. And then they had their milk and biscuits before retiring."

"It must have been the fish. Give her half an hour. If she's no better then, I'll call the doctor." Charlotte returned with the sal volatile.

"There," said Daisy. "That's better."

Eugenie opened her eyes.

"Do you feel better now, dear?" asked Daisy in that brisk voice which demanded an affirmative. "Yes, Miss Hetherington."

"Felt iii, did you?"

"Yes, Miss Hetherington ... sick and dizzy." "Well, lie still. Miss Grant and I will stay here until you go to sleep and we know you are all right." "Thank you," said Eugenie.

"Charlotte, you should get into bed. You can keep your eye on Eugenie, but we shall be here for a while. It is only a common bilious attack. The fish couldn't have agreed with her."

How magnificent she was, our Daisy! No general could ever have given more confidence to his troops. One knew that with Daisy in command everything must work according to plan.

Yet ... there had been the elopement. But then she had known nothing about that until it was a fait accompli .

Eugenie had closed her eyes. She was breathing more easily and looked much better.

"I think she's asleep," said Daisy. "She looks more like herself." She touched Eugenie's forehead. "No fever," she whispered.

After five minutes of silence she rose and said: "I think we can return to our beds now. Charlotte, if Eugenie needs anything you'll wake Miss Grant. And if necessary come for me."

"Yes, Miss Hetherington."

"Good night, Charlotte. We look to you to keep an eye on Eugenie."

"Yes, Miss Hetherington. Good night. Good night, Miss Grant."

Outside my room Daisy paused. "She'll be all right in the morning. As I thought, a touch of biliousness. Charlotte did well. Do you know, I think that girl would improve considerably if she had something to do. If she felt herself useful ..

What do you think?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Well, we must watch them both," said Daisy. "I don't think we shall be troubled again tonight." I went to bed. I was tired and soon asleep.

In the morning Eugenie was better-almost herself, but I thought she should take a rest. She didn't want to. She was rather ashamed of being

"I'm all right really, Miss Grant. I don't know what it was but I just felt a bit funny."

"I think you should have a rest this afternoon." "Oh no, Miss Grant."

"`Yes, Eugenie. That sort of attack does weaken you more than you realize. I insist that you have a rest this afternoon. You can read or perhaps Charlotte will be with you."

She agreed rather ungraciously.

It must have been about three o'clock when I went to my room and remembering that Eugenie was resting, I thought I would look in and see if she had obeyed my orders.

The door was closed but I heard the sound of giggles coming from behind it. I guessed Charlotte was with her.

I hesitated, but decided to look in. I tapped at the door. There was a brief silence so I opened it and went in.

Eugenie was lying on her bed and Charlotte was stretched out on hers. On the chair sat Elsa. "Oh," I said.

"You told me to rest," replied Eugenie.

"We came to cheer her up," said Elsa grinning at me.

"You certainly seem to have done that. How are you feeling, Eugenie?"

"All right," said Eugenie.

"Good. Very well, you can get up when you want to."

"Thank you, Miss Grant."

As I went out and shut the door the giggles continued.

I thought about Elsa. She certainly did not behave like a servant and I wondered, as I had on other occasions, whether I should reprimand her for consorting with the girls as though she were one of them rather than a housemaid. But she always contrived to remind me by a look of the old times at Schaffenbrucken when she had behaved with me and my friends rather in the same way as she was with Eugenie and Charlotte. It was one of the disadvantages of being in a position like mine, when someone who had known you as a schoolgirl was present. One could hardly reprimand others for what one had done oneself. Perhaps the most extraordinary aspect was that Charlotte, known to us all as something of a snob, should be so friendly with a servant.

However, I did not think very much more about the incident.

There was a letter for me from John Markham. He asked me what it felt like to be back at school after the holidays. "That was an unforgettable week we all had together," he wrote. "I felt we had all known each other for years. Why ever didn't Lydia ask you for holidays? We might have known each other earlier. I do wish I could see you. Is it taboo to visit the school? I suppose it would not be considered quite comme il faut . Isn't there something called a half term? Do you go home? Perhaps it is rather a long way for such a short time. It wouldn't be quite so far to come to London. I'd like you to meet my brother Charles. Perhaps you and Teresa could visit us? Do think about it."

I did think about it and it was rather enticing. I did not mention it to. Teresa because I felt it would raise her hopes and I was not sure whether I should go.

I was still suffering from the shock of my encounter with Jason Verringer in the Devil's Den at Colby Hall. It had disturbed me even more than I had thought at the time. I could not stop thinking of him and my mind built up images of what might have happened if I had not made that dramatic gesture in thrusting my hands through the window. It had been a hopeless gesture in any case. I should never have been able to elude him if he was determined to catch me. And if I had managed to get through the window would I have jumped from the top of the tower? What I had implied was that I preferred death to submission to him. It was foolhardy. Yet it had sobered him. He had been really shocked to see the blood on my hands.

Stop thinking of him, I admonished myself. Forget him. It was just an unpleasant experience from which I had emerged unscathed. Even the scars on my hands had healed now. But at Colby I was surrounded by ruins of the past with all the grim legends and terrible sufferings that must have occurred and I was overwhelmed by an ambience of disaster and doom.

Here strange things happened. Jason Verringer seemed never far away. What had really happened to his wife? Where was Marcia Martindale? There would always be questions where Jason was. He was a man of dark secrets. One could almost believe that the Devil had been one of his forebears.

And how different it had been at Epping-the sunshine, the smell of corn, the simplicity of everything, the way of life, the people. It was clean and fresh and easy to understand. Peace ... that was what it offered ... and peace seemed very alluring just now. I had a desire to be there and yet .. . almost against my will I was drawn to the dark towers of Colby Hall and the ruins of the Abbey.

What finally decided me about taking up John's invitation was another letter I had. It was forwarded on to me by Aunt Patty and was from Monique Delorme.

"Dear Cordelia," she wrote in French.