He danced with me. His hands, his straying hands... how 1
loathed them! They came to me in vague dreams from which I always awoke in a state of apprehension, though I was never quite sure why.
January 3rd
I am finding it very difficult to write this down because I really can't believe that it has happened. I want to write about other things because I know that when I see it written down in my journal I shall have to accept it. But what is the use of pretending.
My father called me into his study and said: "I want you to be the first to know."
I must have guessed for the impulse came to me to shout: "No. Don't say it. It can't be."
But I just stood there looking at him steadily and he had no notion of my longing to hear him say something other than what I feared he would.
"It has been a long time since your mother died, Ann Alice. A man gets lonely. You understand that?"
"Of course I understand," I said. "I wish people wouldn't keep hinting that I don't."
He looked surprised at my peevish retort but he went on: "I am going to be married again. Lois and I decided that you should be told right away ... before we make a formal announcement."
"Lois! Miss Gilmour."
"It has all worked out very happily. I was surprised when Lois agreed. She is considerably younger than I and very attractive."
I was staring at him wretchedly, trying to beg him to say it was all a joke.
"Tell me," he said, "isn't it a happy solution to everything?"
I stammered: "I... don't know."
"It's a surprise to you. Ever since Lois came here as your governess the house has changed."
Yes, it has changed for me as well as for him.
"It seems brighter just as it used to when—"
"You mean when my mother was here."
"These tragedies come to us, Ann Alice. We have to accept them. They are God's will. But we should not nurse our grief. That is not what God intends. We should put sorrow behind us. We should try to reach for happiness."
I nodded and turned away.
"I am so pleased that you understand," he said. "I am doing this for you as well as for myself."
I wanted to shout at him: Don't think of me. It is not what I want. I want her to go right away ... and take Mr. Featherstone with her.
"We shall give a dinner party on Twelfth Night," he was saying, "and then we shall announce it."
There was nothing I could say without betraying my feelings. I just nodded and escaped as soon as I could.
And now I sit here staring at the words in my journal. My father is going to marry Miss Gilmour.
Somewhere at the back of my mind I know that this is what I have been fearing for a long time.
March 1st
They were married today. The house is quiet now. It reminds me of a tiger... sleeping. But it will awaken and then it will pounce. It will destroy everything that was and make a new house of this.
I love my little room. I pull the blue curtains about my bed and shut myself in. This is my little sanctum. Here I can be private ... all alone.
They left this afternoon for their honeymoon. They have gone to Italy.
"I always wanted to go," said Miss Gilmour.
They will do a grand tour. They can't go to France because of the troubles there. Terrible things are happening in France now. They say that the King and Queen are in great danger. Nobody in their right senses would want to visit France now, said Papa. So it is to be Italy— land of lakes, mountains and the finest art treasures in the world. Papa is very interested in these and Miss Gilmour—only she is not Miss Gilmour any more; she is my stepmother—is interested in everything that Papa is interested in.
She is the perfect companion.
It is such a short time ago that I was saying goodbye to dear Miss Bray. Oh, why did she have to go? She is now expecting a baby and she writes that she is the happiest woman in the world. It is selfish to wish that she had never gone to her Reverend James.
But how can I help it?
Just think, I say to myself, if Miss Bray had not left I should not now have a stepmother. Everything would be as it used to be. Dull perhaps, but cosy.
And now... it is so different. A new atmosphere is permeating the house. I wonder if anyone else feels it besides myself. I don't really think they do, so perhaps I am imagining it.
It is as though something evil has come into the house ... silent, watchful, waiting to pounce.
March 2nd
I rode out alone today and I had not gone far when I met Mr. Featherstone.
It was quite a shock. A shiver went through me as he came up beside me. We were close to the woods and it was rather lonely. I could not help wondering whether he had followed me and waited for this moment to catch me up.
"What a delightful surprise!"
"Oh ... good afternoon, Mr. Featherstone."
"I am going to be bold and ride with you."
"I hope your business is going satisfactorily."
"Couldn't be better."
"You must find it tiresome living in an inn. I expect you are longing for your business to be completed so that you can return to your home."
"I find the life here very diverting. After all, I have made some delightful acquaintances."
He brought his horse close to mine and I turned to look at him. He was gazing at me implying that I of course was among those delightful acquaintances. I was glad he could not reach me, for if he had been able to, his hand would be on my arm or my shoulder.
I said: "I like to gallop at this point." And I shot away. But of course he was pounding along beside me.
I was forced to slow down because we had come to the road.
"You must have a quiet house now that your father is on his honeymoon with his new wife," he said.
"I don't notice it."
"I thought you might be lonely."
"Not in the least."
"You have many friends, I don't doubt."
"I have enough to occupy me."
"No more lessons... not now you have lost a governess and gained a stepmother."
"I am getting a little old for lessons."
"Quite the young lady. I can see that."
"I turn off here, Mr. Featherstone."
"I was going that way."
"I am returning to the house."
"That was a short ride."
I did not answer. I was resisting the impulse to tell him I was going back to escape from him.
"Now that you are—alone—perhaps we could meet?"
"Oh, I have a great deal to do."
"Too busy to see friends?"
"Oh no. I have time for my friends"
"Oh, Miss Ann Alice, I was hoping you would count me among them:'
"You are Miss Gilmour's friend."
"Miss Gilmour? Oh ... Mrs. Mallory, of course. It was so good of your father to invite me to his house. I expect now that the family friend has become his wife, I shall have more invitations."
"I daresay my father's wife will decide who is invited now."
"Then I should be assured of a welcome."
We had reached the Green. The house stood on the south side of it. I felt annoyed to have had to cut short my ride, but I was determined not to be with him.
"Well, goodbye, Mr. Featherstone."
I started to canter across the Green, but he was still beside me.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"I am afraid I can't do that... now."
He looked rueful.
"Never mind. I shall call when you have more time."
He took off his hat and gave that ridiculously exaggerated bow which he must have learned in the set of the Prince of Wales of which he implied he was an associate.
I wish he would go back to London or Brighton or wherever they were and practice his fancy manners on them.