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"I have been thinking of the house. That should go to you. What would you do with it? I hope you would never sell it."
"No, Papa. I would not."
"I hope there would always be a home for your stepmother here for as long as she lives. I have provided for her. Of course, there is your cousin John. I haven't heard much of him for some time. But he is a Mallory ... so I suppose really the place should go to him... if... by any chance you do not want to live here... That would not be while your stepmother was alive, of course."
"You talk as though you are going to die, Papa."
"I don't intend to for a long time yet. But I want to make sure that everything is in order... and in view of what has happened to Charles..." His voice faltered...
I took his hand and held it. It was rarely that we were demonstrative with each other.
I do not like such talk. It is almost as though my father thinks he is going to die.
It has been a strange month. A terrible gloom hangs over the house and it is only when I escape to Magnus that it recedes a little.
To be so happy and to know tragedy is waiting to strike at any moment makes me pause to think. And in this contemplative mood I turn to my journal.
September 3rd
We are a house of mourning.
My father died in the night. My stepmother discovered him. She came to me, her face very white, her deep blue eyes enormous and her mouth quivering.
"Ann, Ann Alice, come with me... and look at your father."
He was lying on his back, his face white and still. I touched his face. It was very cold.
I looked at my stepmother and said: "He's... dead."
"He can't be," she insisted as though begging me to agree with her. "He's had these turns before."
"He has never had one like this," I said. "We must send for the doctor."
She sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Ann Alice, it can't be. It can't be."
I felt amazingly calm. It was almost as though I was prepared. "I will send one of them for the doctor at once," I said.
I went out and left her there with him.
The housekeeper came back with me. She started to cry when she saw my father. My stepmother just sat still, her hands covering her face.
I went to her and put an arm about her shoulders. "You must compose yourself," I told her. "I am afraid he is dead."
She looked at me piteously. "He was so good to me," she said tremulously. "He ... he has had these turns before. Perhaps ..."
I shook my head. Somehow I could not stay in that room. I went out, leaving her. I went down to the front door and stood there facing the Green, waiting for the doctor.
It seemed hours before he came.
"What is it, Miss Mallory?" he asked.
"It's my father. He must have died in the night."
I took him to the death chamber. He examined my father but said very little.
As he came out of the room he said to me: "He has never recovered from the shock of your brother's death."
So here I sit with my journal before me, writing down the events of this sad day.
I keep thinking about him and how he had changed when he married my stepmother and through her it seemed we had become more of a family than we had ever been before.
His last years had been happy. She had made them so. I should be grateful to her. I wish I could be.
And now he is dead. I shall never see him dozing in his chair again, sitting at the head of the table, exuding contentment with his family life.
Gloom in the house. And soon we have to face the funeral. We shall be dressed in heavy black; we shall go to the churchyard, listen
to the words of the preacher, watch them lower his coffin into the grave, and the bell will toll.
Then we shall return to the house ... a different house. How can it be the same without him?
What will it be like? I find it hard to imagine.
My stepmother will be here. Freddy will be here. I have lost my father and my brother.
But in the Masters' house in Great Stanton, Magnus has his little room. He will be thinking of me as I am of him. There is nothing to fear because he is there...
Should I be afraid if it were not for Magnus?
I pause to consider that. Yes, I believe I should be. Of what? Of a gloomy house, a house of death? Of a life without my father?
Why should I feel so uneasy about that?
But there is nothing to fear. Magnus is there ... waiting for the day when we shall be together.
September 10th
Today my father was buried. I seem to have lived through a long time since that day, only a week ago, when he died.
Immediately after my father's death my stepmother was prostrate. She was really ill. I had never seen her weep before but she did for my father. She must have really loved him. True, she had always behaved as though she did, but I never really believed her. I had taken such a dislike to her when she first came that nothing she did could eradicate that.
I thought she would be too ill to go to the funeral, but she roused herself and put on her widow's weeds, her black, black clothes. They did not suit her. She is a woman who needs colour.
The mournful sound of the tolling bell seemed to go on forever. The carriage, the black-plumed horses, the undertakers in their solemn tall hats and sombre coats, the cortege of death... they all accentuated our loss.
Why do people have to glorify death like this? I wonder. Would it not have been better if we had just laid him quietly in his grave?
I was on one side of my stepmother, Freddy on the other, holding her hand. She leaned on me a little, now and then putting her hand to her eyes.
A little group of the village people gathered to watch us leave. I heard one of them say: "Poor soul. She was so happy with him. It did you good to see them together. And now he's gone ... gone forever."
My stepmother heard and seemed to be grappling with her emotion.
The service in the church had been brief and I was thankful for that. We walked out of the church following the pallbearers. I listened to the clods of earth falling on the coffin. My stepmother threw down a bunch of asters. She gripped my hand and pressed it.
Then I lifted my eyes. Standing a little apart from the group round the grave was Desmond Featherstone.
My heart started to beat faster. I felt a sudden fear. His eyes were fixed on my stepmother.
As we turned away from the grave, he joined us.
"My dear, dear ladies," he said. "I heard of this sad happening. I have come to offer my condolences... to you both."
I said nothing. Nor did my stepmother.
She had quickened her pace and I fancied she wanted him to fall behind.
He did not and when we reached the carriage which would take us back to the house he was still beside us. He helped us in and stood back, his expression solemn; but I noticed the glitter in his eyes as he bowed to us.
This dismal day is over and I cannot forget the sight of Desmond Featherstone standing there near the grave. For some reason, even now, the memory sends shivers down my spine.
November 1st How everything has changed. I knew it would but not to this extent. I think I should be very much afraid if it were not for Magnus.
Magnus is my lifeline. He restores my spirits. He makes me happy, he makes me forget my fears. I go to him every day. We make plans. It won't be long now before we are married, he says. Then we shall go away together.
I sometimes have a strange feeling that forces are at work to destroy my happiness with Magnus and that something else... something terrible ... is being planned for me.