Secret for a Nightingale (9 page)

“I shall not drink any alcohol,” insisted Amelia.

“I am going to be so careful.”

“Then we will drink, Susanna and I,” said Aubrey, ‘to a happy outcome.

”

Amelia could talk of nothing else.

“It’s a miracle,” she insisted again.

“It’s as though I have been compensated.”

“There are often compensations in life, I believe,” I agreed.

“It must have happened just before Stephen became so very ill, for there were occasions when he really was quite his old self. It is only recently that he has become so very ill.”

“I am so glad for you, Amelia.”

“I knew you would be. It’s different for Aubrey. You see, this is his home. I know what he is feeling now.. but Stephen is so happy because his son will be the next master of Minster St. Clare … or his daughter its mistress.”

She said she was going to watch every step she took. She would consult the doctor and follow his advice in every way. There should not be another mishap.

Aubrey gave vent to his disappointment when we were alone. He was bitter.

“To think that this could happen! Do you believe that Stephen could conceive a child?”

“He has. Amelia says there have been periods when he has been quite well. It is only in the last month that he has been so very ill.”

“She would say that, wouldn’t she?”

“What are you suggesting.. , that this child is not Stephen’s? Oh, Aubrey!”

“Why not? It’s a desperate situation, it’s a way lor ner to keep her hold on everything.”

I looked at him in horror.

“How can you say such a thing … of Amelia!”

“Because it could very well be.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Do you realize what a difference this is going to make to us?”

“I hadn’t thought much about that.”

His exasperation was apparent.

“My brother will want me to stay here.

I’ll be a sort of regent until the child is of age. A guardian to this infant who will one day wear the crown. “

“Well, why not?”

He looked at me almost with dislike.

“Don’t you understand?”

“Of course I understand.”

“You won’t be mistress of your own house. Amelia will be that. Can’t you see?”

“If we stay here I shall be content. I am really fond of Amelia. We’ve become friends.”

He turned away impatiently. He looked peevish, as a child does who has had a toy snatched away from him. I felt tender towards him. I felt I had to soothe him.

I said: “It will be all right, Aubrey. We’ll be together. That’s the important thing. It’s relationships that count … not houses.”

He smiled at me faintly.

“You’re a good girl, Susanna. I suppose I am lucky, aren’t I?”

I said that I hoped he was1 hoped that we both were.

Aubrey seemed to have dismissed his disappointment from his mind. He hardly mentioned it. Instead we made plans for our wedding.

“It must be as soon as possible,” said Aubrey; and I was delighted by his impatience.

I had first fallen in love with him because he was good-looking, charming, and seemed so knowledgeable of the world,

without really knowing much else about him. I suppose those were qualities which would appeal to a young girl who had had little experience of life and men. Now I saw him differently. I could imagine him as a little boy, growing up in this wonderful old house. I saw him as rather lazy, not wanting to be burdened with responsibilities and yet not caring to take second place. Had he been a little jealous of his elder brother? Perhaps. That would be natural. Then he had gone away, travelled extensively, trying to make a life for himself. Being called back, realizing that he would one day inherit the family estate had changed him, made him realize how much he loved his old home.

Then, suddenly, when he had thought it was about to be his, another claimant was about to appear. I knew how deeply disappointed he was and that made him vulnerable and me very tender towards him.

I agreed that we should marry as soon as possible.

“This is hardly the place for a wedding,” he said.

“By the look of Stephen it seems more likely that we shall have a funeral.”

“Poor Stephen. I think he will now cling to life. He will want to see his child.”

“Perhaps.”

“My father says I should be married from the rectory. My uncle and aunt would like that and my uncle would officiate. After all, it was my home for a long time. I know my father would not want me to be married from a furnished house.”

“How soon?” asked Aubrey.

“Five weeks … six … two months.”

“The shorter period the better.”

“As soon as I return I will set everything in motion. I think I shall have to stay with Uncle James and Aunt Grace for a few weeks. They have to read the banns and so on. There will be a great deal to do and time will fly.”

“Then please set about it without delay.”

And that was what we arranged to do.

When I sat with Stephen again I thought he was much better. There was no doubt that the news of the coming child had acted like a tonic.

He spoke more clearly and there was a shine in his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re getting married soon,” he said.

“Aubrey needs you. Look after him.” I smiled and said I would. I guessed Stephen saw Aubrey as the young brother who had never been able to take care of himself.

It was the day before my departure. I had wandered out after luncheon.

I was fascinated by the grounds which surrounded the Minster. In them one would come upon relics of the old monastery quite unexpectedly a crumbling wall on which creeper was growing, paved stones among the grass a stump of something which might have been a column.

I found it fascinating.

The Minster was already exerting its spell on me. I wondered if we should live there. If Stephen recovered we would surely not do so; and I could not imagine Aubrey enjoying his role of regent, as he called it.

But Stephen could not recover. The change in him was merely superficial. He looked better because he was happier, but happiness could not cure his malady.

It was hard to visualize the future, although only a few days before I had imagined I could do so. I had thought of our living here, having children, for my desire for them was as intense as Amelia’s, and of loving the old house and having the portraits of my children hanging in the long gallery.

I had come to a copse. I had been as far as this before but not beyond. The fir trees grew close together, giving an atmosphere of darkness and secrecy to the little wood. I made my way through the tall straight trunks with their reddish bark, and as I did so, I felt as I often did at Minster St. Clare that I was making a discovery. The copse was not large and when I came to the other side I saw that the ground sloped upwards forming a little hillock.

I climbed this and looked down. There was a sharp drop of about seven feet. I scrambled down through the mass of creeper which covered the drop and in doing so I disturbed the covering

of plants. To my amazement I saw that it was not earth behind them but what could be a door. I brushed aside the creeper. Yes, indeed, it was a door. I felt a great excitement as I examined it, wondering where it led. It seemed a strange place for a door leading to what appeared to be a cave under the hillock. There was a keyhole. I pushed the door but it did not budge. I looked about me. There was silence everywhere.

Again I had the feeling that someone was watching me and that there was something malevolent in the air.

I walked away from the door and stood back some distance looking at it. The creeper had fallen back and as the door was no longer visible the hillock looked like a feature of the landscape . rather unusual but not so very remarkable. It occurred to me then that the hillock was not a natural one and I wondered what was behind that door.

I skirted the hillock and made my way back to the copse. As soon as I entered it I felt I was being followed. It was an uneasy feeling.

There was the sudden dislodging of a stone, and the crackle of undergrowth. It was foolish. It was broad daylight but my heart began to beat uncomfortably. I hurried on.

Then suddenly my arm was caught and held tightly. I gasped and turned to face . Aubrey.

“Why, Susanna, what’s the matter?” he demanded.

“Oh … you startled me. I thought I was being followed.”

“You were.

Amelia told me you’d gone for a walk and I came to find you. “

“Why didn’t you call out or let me know it was you?”

“I like to surprise you. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Not now you’re here. It was silly of me. I had just seen a door.”

“A door!”

“Yes. Leading under the hillock.”

“What’s strange about that? You’ll find all sorts of odd things here, you know. It’s the remains of the old Minster. There’d be an outcry if we attempted to move anything. Relics of the past, and all that.”

“Yes, I know. But-this was a door. It must lead somewhere.”

His eyes were glinting. He was rather amused by my whimsical feelings.

I supposed because he wanted to assure me that he was there to protect me.

He put his arm through mine.

“Were you going back to the house?”

“Yes.”

“Why should a door startle you?”

“I don’t know. It was odd … standing there …”

“Did you expect it to open and the Devil to walk out?”

I laughed.

“It seemed so strange, and then coming through the wood and feeling that I was followed …”

“I’m sorry I scared you, dearest Susanna. I always thought you were so practical.”

“I don’t think I am, really. I am a little fanciful.”

“And are you weaving fancies about that door? Well, houses like this are places where the most down-to-earth may be forgiven a few flights of fancy. I’ll tell you, you are not the first to discover that door.

We actually had it opened once . Oh, that was long ago, when I was a boy. There is nothing behind it. It’s just a cave. It might have been a storage place for the monks. The door was put back and left.

”

“Oh, I see. I thought there must be something … rather significant… behind such a strong-looking door.”

“Susanna; I’m sorry I startled you.”

“Oh, I was silly to be startled.”

As he walked back to the house he talked enthusiastically about the wedding.

Next day I left the Minster. Aubrey insisted on taking me home. On the journey back to London he seemed different. He had reverted now to the man I had known in India and on the ship suave, carefree, confident;

and he did not mention the coming baby who had blighted his hopes of inheritance.

My father was delighted to see me. He said that Jane and Polly had looked after him splendidly and as far as material comforts were concerned he had not missed me.

Aubrey returned to Buckinghamshire that day and when he had gone my father demanded a detailed account of the visit, watching me anxiously as I gave it. I told him everything.

“And you are still as eager to marry Aubrey as you were?” he asked.

I told him that I was.

“Well, we shall have to be practical. I think you should write off immediately to your Uncle James and we should get things in motion.

You’ll want to shop and you’ll do that in London. You’ll have to be with your aunt and uncle for a month before the wedding. I dare say you’ll have plenty to do. Time will fly. I’ve decided that I like this house and Jane and Polly manage it and me very well. I have already written asking for an extension of the tenancy. There is no point in our getting a house which you are going to leave almost immediately. I can manage here very well. It will be your home whenever you want it. “

“I see you have everything in order. Military precision, I suppose you call it.”

“You might say that. My dear daughter, I shall be so glad to see you happily settled.”

“Poor Father! I must have been a great responsibility to you.”

“Well … away from home … a little girl to bring up. I did have a few anxious moments. But it worked out well and I always knew my daughter would know how to take care of herself.”

“I hope your confidence is not misplaced.”

He looked at me anxiously for a moment.

“Why do you say that? Has something happened?”

“No,” I said fervently.

“No.”

But I, too, was wondering why I had said that. Could it be that a certain uneasiness was beginning to creep in somewhere?

The next weeks flew by. I was fitted for my wedding-dress. I bought certain clothes which I thought I should need. We were going to Venice for the honeymoon. It was to last a whole month and some friends of the St. Clare family had lent us their palazzo.

Uncle James and Aunt Grace were as helpful as I had known they would be. They were very gratified that the wedding was to take place in the old Norman church and that Uncle James would officiate. I was to go to them a month before the wedding. My father could come down for weekends or any time he could manage. It would be a rather quiet wedding because of the illness of the bridegroom’s brother.

Aubrey was to come down to Humberston a few days before the ceremony and a room had been booked for him at the Black Boar.

Everything seemed to be working smoothly towards the desired goal.

In due course I arrived in Humberston. I felt very emotional as I sat in that bedroom looking out through the little window at the churchyard. Memories came back, the terrible loneliness, the homesickness, the longing for India, my father, my ayah.

I wondered what she was doing now. She had not been completely happy with the Freelings. She had become rather mystical, hinting at something. I was not sure what.

It was different now. Soon I should be leaving Humberston;

my home would be at the Minster; but first there would be the magical honeymoon in Venice.

I was happy, I kept telling myself. I was contented.

Most young women would think they were indeed fortunate to be in my position. After all, I was not exactly a beauty. My reddish hair was startling in colour but it was thick and straight, and although it contained a wave or two it was not becomingly curly and was often unmanageable. And then my green eyes. They went with my hair, of course, but my lashes were fair and so were my eyebrows; and my skin was very white. It had given my poor ayah great anxiety. She had moaned about its delicacy and feared what the fierce Indian sun might do to it. I had never been allowed out without a big shady hat, even on dull days. But my height was what made me feel I lacked female attractiveness. I was too tall. I had looked down on quite a number of the young men of my acquaintance and I believed that was not an appealing trait. Men like to look down