I am in a poor state of health. There is perpetual discomfort. I can’t stay in one position for long. Roderick has done everything to make me comfortable here, but it is not easy. It is a wonderful place to be. I have found great interest in the Roman remains and Fiona and her husband have been good friends to me. One of them often comes to see me. I should have to give up all that if I went away.
Well, there is so much I want to say to you. I want you to understand. Could you come, not just for a brief weekend, but to stay a little while? I want to talk … and talk. I remember so much of the old days and everything that led up to this. I am in difficulties, Noelle. Do please come.
I was deeply moved when I read the letter. I wondered what she could have to say to me. She had to make her decision. I could understand how she had formed an attachment to Leverson Manor. It was a fine old place, and she had the friendship of Fiona. I knew she would have compassion for her and, as she had acquired an interest in Fiona’s own passion for archaeology, there would have been a bond between them. Lisa must be considering going away, to some remote place … away from Roderick, whom I believed she had always loved. It was asking a great deal of her.
But to go to Leverson Manor! The idea both excited and alarmed me.
I wrote back to her:
Dear Lisa,
Thank you for your letter. I am sorry to hear of your suffering. I know what Roderick is asking you, and I do realize you find it hard to make a quick decision.
I should like to talk to you, but hesitate to come to Leverson Manor without an invitation from Lady Constance. Moreover, I have a young girl living with me, Marie-Christine du Carron. I was with her in France. She is Robert’s great-niece and she lost her family in the siege of Paris. I could not leave her.
My love and sympathy,
Noelle
The response was another letter. This was from Lady Constance.
My dear Noelle,
We have thought of you a good deal since you left us. I was very sad to see you go in such circumstances.
Lisa has told me that she wants to talk to you, and that it is important to her that she does so. I think it might be helpful if she did. She says that you need an invitation from me.
My dear, I should be delighted to see you. Neither my husband nor I can see that any harm could come to the position at the moment by your coming here.
It may well be that you can persuade Lisa as to what she should do for all our sakes.
So please come, and bring Marie-Christine with you. You will both be welcome.
Affectionately,
Constance Claverham
The carriage was waiting for us at the station.
I had never thought to see Leverson again, and how strange it was to be riding through those Kentish lanes.
We had turned into the drive, and went under the gatehouse into the courtyard.
Marie-Christine’s eyes were round with amazement.
“What a splendid place!” she cried. “It is like a castle.”
I was pleased that she liked it. I felt as though I were part of it. Such had been Roderick’s optimism that I could convince myself that it might well be my home one day.
As we passed through the hall, with its pistols and blunderbusses, I remembered the apprehension I had felt when Charlie had first brought me here.
“Lady Constance says that you are to be taken to the drawing room as soon as you arrive,” I was told.
We followed the maid, though I knew the way.
In the drawing room she was waiting. Charlie was with her.
“My dear Noelle,” he murmured and, taking my hand, kissed my cheek.
Lady Constance came forward. She kissed me, too.
“My dear,” she said. “I am glad to see you. And this is Marie-Christine?”
Marie-Christine was a little overawed, which was rare with her, but such was the personality of Lady Constance.
“You will have your old room,” said Lady Constance to me. “And Marie-Christine will be next to you. I thought you would like to be close.” She turned to Marie-Christine. “This is rather a large house, and people are apt to get lost just at first.”
“It is beautiful!” cried Marie-Christine. “And very grand.”
Lady Constance smiled graciously.
“I am looking forward to hearing all your news,” she said to me. “But now I am sure you are tired after your journey. It is a pity the train arrives so late. But you can change before dinner. Would you like to go to your rooms now?”
I said I thought that would be best.
“I hope you will be comfortable,” said Lady Constance.
She rang a bell and a maid appeared.
“Take our guests to their rooms, please, and make sure they have everything they need,” said Lady Constance. “And, Noelle, my dear … say half an hour? That will give us a little time before dinner is served.”
“Thank you very much.”
It was all very conventional and normal. No one would have guessed of the drama behind my visit. This was typical of Lady Constance. I felt my spirits rising. Her welcome had been warm in the extreme … for her. I was reminded of the reception I had received when I first came to this house.
Marie-Christine was in a state of high excitement. She loved what she called adventure and this was certainly in that category … as exciting to her as our trip to Cornwall.
The room looked just as it was when I was last in it. I went to see Marie-Christine in hers. She was delighted with it and all eager anticipation, waiting for what would happen next.
I washed and changed and, with Marie-Christine, went downstairs. Lady Constance was waiting for us. Marie-Christine’s presence prevented any intimate conversation, and it was not until after dinner, when Charlie took Marie-Christine off to see the house, that I was alone with Lady Constance.
She said: “I am very happy to have you here. I was sad when you went away. It was a great pity Roderick married. I was very much against it.”
“And what about Lisa?” I asked. “Is her trouble incurable? Is there no hope for her?”
“None. She has permanently injured her spine. Roderick has brought in all the leading men in the country. The verdict is always the same. She will remain an invalid, and it is very likely that the condition will grow worse.”
“What a terrible prospect for her!”
“And for Roderick. But let us hope there may be a way out.”
“It is so tragic for her,” I said. “She was so ambitious, and she was getting on well in her profession.”
“I do not know about that, but she is here … as Roderick’s wife. I had hoped … you and I could have got along very well together, Noelle.”
“I am sure we should.”
“I hope I may say I am sure we shall. We’ve got to make her see reason, Noelle.”
“But what is reason for us might not be for her. She is being asked for a great deal.”
“She must agree. We are going to use all our efforts to persuade her.”
“When can I see her?”
“Tomorrow. She has had a bad day today. She does have them. The pain is great then. The doctor has prescribed pills for her. They are quite effective. They are always at hand, but she can’t take too many at a time, of course. I think six is the maximum for the whole day. She has to be careful to use them only when she really needs them. When the pain is very bad, she will take two. She had four yesterday, they tell me.”
“It sounds dreadful.”