Philippa Carr: Voices in a Haunted Room

She frowned. “There are two, I believe, who would be ready to ask you,” she went on. “In fact I think they are waiting for the all-important birthday. You know who I mean, and I know you are fond of both of them. Dickon and I have talked of it. It is something we should be very happy about. There is something unusual about twins. We had twins in the family some years ago—Bersaba and Angelet—and do you know, eventually they each married the same man… Angelet first, and after her death, Bersaba married him. That was before the family were at Eversleigh. It was Bersaba’s daughter Arabella who married into the Eversleigh family—that was at the time of the Civil War and the Restoration. So you see it goes back a long way. But why am I telling you this? Oh… twins. Although they are so different—as Bersaba and Angelet were by all accounts—they both fell in love with the same man. I think it is rather like David and Jonathan.”

“You mean they are both in love… with me?”

“I’m sure of it, and so is Dickon. You are attractive, you know, Claudine.”

“Oh, I am not beautiful like you, Maman.”

“You are very attractive, and it is obvious that you will soon be called on to make a choice. Claudine, tell me, which is it to be?”

“Isn’t it rather unseemly to choose between two men when one has not had a proposal from either?”

“It is only for my ears, Claudine.”

“Dear Maman, I hadn’t thought…”

“But you have thought of them.”

“Well—in a way…”

“David loves you steadily… wholeheartedly. He would be a very good husband, Claudine.”

“You mean that if I were asked by both of them you would prefer me to take David?”

“I would accept your choice. It is your decision, dearest child. They are so different. It is a situation fraught with difficulties, for whichever one you choose, the other will still be there. It worries me quite a lot, Claudine. Dickon laughs at me. He has his own ideas of these matters and I don’t always agree with him.” She smiled reminiscently. “In fact,” she went on, “I hardly ever agree with him.” She made disagreement sound like the ideal state. “I am concerned though. I wish it could have been different. But, Claudine… I am so selfish. I don’t want you to go away.”

I put my arms round her and held her close to me.

“There was always something rather special between us, wasn’t there?” she said. “You came when I was a little disillusioned with marriage. Oh, I loved your father and we had some wonderful times together, but he was never faithful to me. To him that was the natural way of life. I suppose I had been brought up differently. My mother was so English. You were such a comfort to me, my little Claudine. I want you to make the right choice. You are so young. Talk to me. Tell me. Let me share your thoughts.”

I was bewildered. Certainly I hadn’t thought of having to make a choice. But I could see what she meant: the growing seriousness of David and his obvious delight in my company against the impatient gestures of Jonathan. Yes, I could see that the time of indecision was coming to an end.

I was glad my mother had prepared me for this.

I said to her: “I don’t want to choose. I want everything to go on as it is. I like it this way. I love being with David. It is exciting to listen to him. I have never heard anyone talk as he does. Oh, I know he is rather silent in company, but when we are alone…”

She smiled at me lovingly and said: “He is a good young man. He is the best of young men…”

And that seemed significant. But I could not bring myself to talk to her of the emotions which Jonathan aroused in me.

I was to have a new dress for the party, and Molly Blackett, the sewing woman, who lived in one of the cottages on the estate, came to make it for me.

She cooed over the yards of white satin and blue silk which were to make up the dress. I was to have paniers of blue which would part to show a white satin petticoat; and the bodice was to be decorated with tiny white and blue flowers embroidered in silks; the sleeves stopped short at the elbow, from which flowed cascades of fine white lace. It was a style which had been introduced by Marie Antoinette, and when I saw it I could not help thinking of her in her prison waiting—and no doubt longing—for death; and this dampened my pleasure in the dress.

Molly Blackett made me stand for what seemed a very long period while she knelt at my feet with a black pincushion beside her into which she would jab the pins with a ferocious joy when she discarded them.

She chattered all the while about how beautiful I was going to look in my dress. “The white is so suitable for a young girl and the blue will match your eyes.”

“They aren’t that shade at all. They’re dark blue.”

“Ah, that’s the point, Miss Claudine. The colours will make your eyes look a darker blue… in contrast, you see. Oh, these colours are just right for you. My word, time passes. I remember when you first came. It seems like yesterday.”

“It is three years ago.”

“Three years! And your dear mother now with us. My mother remembers her well. She sewed for her mother. That was before she went away to France… and after that she sewed for the first Mrs. Frenshaw. Things have changed now.”

I was standing there only half listening. She had taken off the bodice, having rearranged the set of the sleeves, which had not pleased her, so I was left with the skirt about my waist and nothing but the shift at the top.

She laid the bodice on the table and was saying: “I’ll have this right in a jiffy. Sleeves is so important, Miss Claudine. I’ve known a badly set sleeve ruin a dress, however handsome the rest of it…” when the door opened. I gave a little gasp because Jonathan was standing there.

He did not look at me but said: “Oh, Molly, the mistress wants to see you at once. It’s urgent. She’s in the library.”

“Oh, Mr. Jonathan,” she turned flustered to me; she looked back at the table. “I’ll just—er—see to Miss Claudine…”

“The mistress said immediately, Molly. I think it is important.”

She nodded nervously and with a little giggle ran from the room. Jonathan turned to me and the blue flames were in his eyes as they swept over me.

“Charming,” he said. “Very charming. All glory below and sweet simplicity above.”

“You’ve delivered your message,” I said. “Now you’d better go.”

“What?” he cried indignantly. “You’d ask me to go now?”

He put his hands on my shoulders and bending his head swiftly kissed my neck.

“No,” I said firmly.

He just laughed and pulling my shift down over my shoulder put his lips against my skin. I gasped and he lifted his head to look at me mockingly.

“You see,” he said, “the top does not suit the skirt, does it?”

I felt exposed, unprotected; my heart was beating so fiercely that in my state of undress he must be aware of it.

“Go away,” I cried. “How dare you… come in here… when… when…”

“Claudine,” he said. “Little Claudine… I was passing. I peeped in and saw dear old Molly with her pins, and you there in a certain degree of nudity… and I had to come and tell you how charming you looked.”

I tried to pull my shift back into place but he would not release it, and I could not escape from his hands or his lips.

It was wildly exciting. It was like one of those fantasies during which I had pictured his coming into my bedroom. It was over very quickly, for I heard Molly Blackett coming back. She burst into the room just as Jonathan had slipped my shift back onto my shoulders.

Her face was flushed. “The mistress was not in the library,” she said.