“You take sugar?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yes, please. I have rather a sweet tooth.”
Benedict was staring at me. “Show me!” he cried. “Show me the sweet tooth.”
I told him that it meant I liked rather a lot of sugar in my tea, and he was thoughtful.
“If it had been possible,” Jessica was saying, “I should have liked to be a doctor.”
“A noble profession,” I agreed.
“To have the power … to a certain extent … over life and death …” Her eyes glowed. I was struck by the way she put it. Power?
My thoughts were diverted immediately because Benedict had taken a spoon and, before we had noticed what he was doing, had put a spoonful of sugar in my tea.
“That’s for your sweet tooth,” he shouted.
We were all laughing. It was quite a pleasant teatime.
We were at dinner, discussing the ball we were giving at Menfreya. A fancy-dress ball, we had told Harry Leveret when he had called with his mother for a game of whist the previous evening. The Leverets came frequently since the reconciliation; and with William and Jessica, we were able to make up two tables.
“I always remember,” Harry had said, “the fancy-dress ball your father gave at Chough Towers.”
I remembered it in every detail. I had worn the dress which had somehow been important in my life, because it had marked a turning point That night I had realized that I could be attractive, because the dress had brought out my rather medieval looks, and I had been accentuating them ever since.
The dress still hung in my room. I looked at it often and longed for an opportunity to wear it, though I had worn the snood now and then.
I was delighted, therefore, at the prospect of an opportunity to wear it again, but I knew I should not do so without arousing poignant memories of Gwennan in the gallery with me, of our creeping down, two young girls on the brink of adventure. I wondered whether Harry remembered too.
“I remember my father’s parties.” I smiled, thinking of the London house and the elaborate displays. I saw a child leaning over the banisters, listening and hearing no good of herself.
“Memories?” said Bevil tenderly. He had been at great pains since the island adventure to show me he cherished me; and I had been feeling happier. If only Jessica were not here, I thought, I believe I could be completely happy.
But there she sat, smiling serenely, listening intently; and the free-and-easy way in which conversation was carried on showed clearly that she was accepted as a member of the family.
“Costume always provides a problem on these occasions,” said William. “But I do know an excellent firm who supply them.” He smiled at me. “I used them in your father’s time.”
“I have my costume,” I replied promptly. “I wore it at one of my father’s affairs.”
Jessica had leaned slightly forward. “Do tell me about it What does it represent?”
“It’s just a period dress. Actually it must have belonged to one of the Menfreys because there’s a portrait of her wearing … well, if not the identical dress, one so like it that I can’t tell the difference.”
“How exciting! I hope you’ll show me.”
“Certainly.”
“I suppose,” went on William, “I had better see about hiring some costumes. You must tell me what you would like to be.”
“I think I shall try to make my own,” said Jessica. Though she looked a little startled, but even at that moment I felt she was not truly so, and entirely sure of herself. That is … if I am invited.”
“But naturally,” cried Sir Endelion.
She smiled deprecatingly. “After all I am only the nursery governess.”
“Oh, come, come, my dear.” Sir Endelion was giving her his goatish look. “You mustn’t think of yourself as anything but a friend of the family.”
“Well then,” said Jessica, “as Mrs. Menfrey is providing her costume, I shall do the same.”
I took out the dress and held it against me. I was certain my eyes seemed brighter and that my skin took > on a new bloom. I let the dress fall to the floor while I put on the jeweled snood. Then I held up the dress again.
Even as I smiled at myself I felt the pain of memory. I could never forget Gwennan.
“Gwennan,” I whispered to my reflection, “if only you hadn’t run away, if you’d lived and married Harry and gone to Chough Towers and had your children there, it would have been wonderful. You would have been my sister, and Jessica Trelarken would not be here looking after your son.”
But life had to be accepted for what it was.
I felt a desire then to look again at the circular room which was said to be haunted by the sad governess, and to see once more the woman who had worn a dress so similar to mine that it could have been the same one.
I had been meaning to talk to Bevil about the house, for it seemed wrong to have so much of it that was never used. We ought to go through those old rooms and have them renovated so that we could give house parties, fill the place with gaiety, as Harry was doing at Chough Towers.
A few days later I found time to go and look at the portrait of the woman in my dress. As I made my way to the deserted wing I assured myself that I was not a nervous type, and I was even inclined to be skeptical of the supernatural, but when I pushed open the door and stepped into the wing I was not so sure. Perhaps it was the protesting whine made by the door which set my nerves on edge. I had forgotten it, and it startled me as I broke the silence. I laughed at myself and went along the corridor where Gwennan had once led me. It was gloomy for there was only one window high in the wall, and that was in need of cleaning. It was ridiculous. This part of the house should be attended to. I could imagine Sir Endelion shrugging his shoulders and not wishing to go to the expense of opening up the wing, and Lady Menfrey, of course, agreeing with him.
I started back. It was as though a clammy hand had touched my face. I cried out involuntarily, and my own voice echoed back to me. In those seconds I felt an icy shiver run through my body.
Then I put my hand to my face and realized I had, as on another occasion, walked into a cobweb.
I wiped it off as best I could and tried to laugh at my folly, but I knew my nerves were taut, and I could not prevent myself peering over my shoulder.
I wanted to turn back, but I knew if I did I should despise myself, so I went forward and came to the door which had replaced the sliding panel. Again that protesting whine as I stepped into the circular cavity of the buttress.
A faint shaft of light came through the slit in those massive walls. There was the long mottled mirror, the trunk—and that was all.
I caught my breath in a little sob, for the door had moved on its hinges, and I heard again that noise which sounded like a groan.
Could it be true, I asked myself, that a woman had lived here, and the rest of the household were unaware of it? I pictured her lover looking like Sir Endelion. No, he would have been young and would have looked more like Bevil. I imagined him silently coming here to see her.
I touched the walls; they were very cold. She had had little comfort here. But what would have happened to her if she had been driven from the house by the mistress—the woman in my dress—and had nowhere to go. Any shelter was better than none—besides, she had the support of her lover.
I walked round the circular room, through the narrow opening, up the twisting, narrow flight of stairs to the parapet round the buttress tower. The air seemed so strong after the confinement of the circular room that I felt intoxicated. I stood there breathing deeply. Far, far below me the sea was whirling playfully about the rocks, sending up little spurts of white spray. I could just see the tips of the treacherous Lurkers and … the island.