Виктория Холт - The Judas kiss

"Grand Dukes," whispered Francine.

"Oh, they're not there now. They're not often there. They come and go. The place is all covered up and left, and then servants come and there's a regular spring clean, then the Dukes come. It's all very grand—royal stuff. Your grandfather doesn't like it...he doesn't like it at all.

"Is it really any concern of his?" asked Francine.

That made Mrs. Emms roar with laughter and produce one of her winks. "He reckons so. He's the lord of this place. Emms says the Queen herself couldn't be more of a sovereign over all England than Sir Matthew Ewell is over us all here ... begging your pardon, he being your grandfather."

"There's no need to ask pardon. I think we agree with you," said Francine, "although we have not seen much yet. Are the Grand Dukes in residence now?"

"Oh, bless you no, and hasn't been these last two months. But they'll be here—oh yes, they'll be here. It makes a bit of excitement. You never know, you see. One day I'll look out of my back windows and I'll see them there. They're just at the back of me so I get the best view."

"Well, we'll go and look at it," said Francine. "We haven't much time. We have to be back by four. So the house is just at the back of you."

"Yes ... look. There's a short cut round by the cottages, you can't miss it. Through the hedge and there you are."

"Thank you, Mrs. Emms. We hope we shall see more of you."

She nodded and winked again. Francine said, "Come on, Pippa."

So we came to the house. There was a deep silence everywhere and a great excitement gripped me. I am sure Fran-cine felt the same and I wondered afterwards whether it was a premonition because this house was going to play such an important part in our lives.

There was the gate supported by marble columns and an archway on which we could just make out the date: 1525. We unlatched the gate and went in. I reached for Francine's hand and she gripped mine tightly. We almost tiptoed across the stretch of lawn, which was overgrown and spotted with daisies. We reached the house and I put out a hand to touch the red bricks. They were warm from the sun. Francine was looking in through the window. She gave a little gasp and turned pale.

"What is it?" I cried.

"There's someone ... standing there ... a ghost ... in white."

I began to tremble, but I pressed my face against the glass. I started to laugh. "It's a piece of furniture," I said. "It's covered over with a dust sheet. It does look like someone standing there."

She looked again and then we were rolling about in an excess of mirth which perhaps had a touch of hysteria in it. There was something about the house which affected us deeply.

We walked round it; we looked in through all the lower windows. Everywhere the furniture was covered in dust sheets.

"It must be wonderful," I said, "when the Grand Dukes come."

Francine tried the door. It was of course locked. There was a gargoyle on a sort of knocker which seemed to be jeering at us.

"I'm sure he moved," said Francine.

"This is a place where you could fancy things," I reminded her.

She agreed. "Imagine coming here at night. I'd like to."

I shivered, fearful that she might suggest it. "Let's look at the gardens," I said. We did. The lawns were mostly all in need of attention. There were groves, statues, colonnades and little pathways through shrubberies.

I said, "We should go back. We're not quite sure of the way and if we're late and they find out we haven't been walking in the gardens—"

"Come on then," she said. "Let's go back past the cottages."

We did with great speed for it was half past three. Daisy's mother was not there, but the line of flapping washing showed that she had completed her task.

We ran all the way back and were punctual at the tea table and as we listened to the usual grace, we were both thinking of the afternoon's adventure.

We saw Daisy next morning when she came in with our hot water. We told her that we had met her mother and she laughed with pleasure.

"Good old Ma," she said. "Was she pleased to get her eldest respectable!"

"Are you respectable then, Daisy?" asked Francine.

"Oh, as near as makes no difference. You've got the dressmaker coming today. Pity. I like your little frocks. They're pretty."

"We don't see you during the day," said Francine.

"Working in the kitchens, that's me."

"It was nice seeing your mother. She told us about Granter's Grange."

"Ah, that's a place I'd like to be at."

"There's no-one there."

"When there is it will be a real sight, I can tell you. Balls and fetes. They do themselves proud. A lot of people come over from abroad. They say it belongs to a King or something."

"A Grand Duke," your mother said.

"She'd know. Reckon she talks with the servants up there. Foreigners, most of them, but trust Ma."

She winked and went out, and we hastily dressed to be in time for breakfast.

It was very much the same as the previous day. In fact, I was beginning to think that once we had settled into a routine every day was going to be like every other. We visited our grandmother again; Aunt Grace collected us in time to be at the service at the chapel and told us that the rest of the morning would be spent with Jenny Brakes, and we should have dresses which were suitable; we should have a governess who might well arrive within the week and there would be religious instruction from our Cousin Arthur. Our grandfather had said that we must be taught to ride as that was part of a gentlewoman's training. So it seemed our days would be well accounted for.

We got through the chapel service and Francine confided to me that she heartily disliked Cousin Arthur, largely because he looked so virtuous and grandfather clearly had a high opinion of him. Poor little Jenny Brakes was so pale and overeager to please that I felt sorry for her and stood as still as I could while she knelt beside me with a mouthful of pins and adjusted the dark blue serge which I disliked intensely.

So did Francine. "We're going to look as dismal as Greystone Manor," she commented. She was wrong, for she could never look dismal and the navy blue serge of our everyday dresses and the brown poplin of our best ones only accentuated her fair beauty and, by its contrast, her charm. They were not so kind to me. I hated the colours which did not suit my darkness, but I was glad that our new clothes had not spoilt Francine's looks.

That our coming had made a subtle change to the household was obvious to everyone, I think—except perhaps our grandfather. He was so immersed in his own importance and piety that I imagine he rarely thought anything or anyone else of any significance. He wouldn't have known that our grandmother grew quite excited at the prospect of our morning visits. I believe he paid daily visits—as was his duty —and I could imagine what they would be like.

Within a week our governess had arrived. Miss Elton was in her mid-thirties, with brown hair severely parted in the middle and worn in a little knot at the nape of her neck; she wore severe grey gowns on weekdays and a dark-blue one on Sundays, which did honour to the Sabbath by sporting a lace collar. She tested us and found us abysmally ignorant, except in one respect—languages. She spoke fair French herself, but her German was excellent. She told us afterwards that her mother had been German and she had been brought up to speak that language as well as English. She was delighted with our proficiency and said we must aim to perfect it. It would certainly be one of the subjects we studied with enthusiasm. She was obsequious to our grandfather and gently polite to Aunt Grace.

"Subservient," commented Francine slightingly.

"Don't you understand?" I replied warmly. "She wants to keep her post here. She's afraid of losing it. So be kind to her and see her point of view."