‘You let your son go?’ cried my mother.
‘He was more Dickon’s son than mine. He had been brought up in the Puritan manner; he was burning with enthusiasm for the new life in America.’
‘So you were alone.’
‘I heard later that Dickon died before they sailed. He was in a tavern in Southampton and there he fell into an argument with sailors about religion. He defended the Puritans and was stabbed. He died of his wounds.’
‘What a terrible thing to have happened,’ cried Melanie.
‘Yes, I wished I’d stayed with him. Had I known it would be but a few weeks more … I was fond of Dickon. It was just his fanatical beliefs which came between us. They had alienated the boy, who stayed with them after his father died. And then I was alone.’
‘Alone in Holland!’ cried my mother. ‘You should have come home then.’
‘I had friends. One of these was a Spaniard. He took me with him to Madrid and I lived there for some years in fine style. When I lost him I set out to look for my mother because I knew that she was there. I found her. She was married to a gentleman of high nobility, a friend of King Philip … You remember him, Tamsyn. He was here as Lord Cartonel. You thought he came courting me.’
‘I remember him well,’ said my mother soberly.
‘My mother had never been what you would call maternal. She never wanted me. I was an embarrassment … no, not even an embarrassment … an encumbrance, shall we say, right from the first. I should never have been born. It was a miracle that I was and that was due to your mother, Tamsyn, who found mine on the shore half dead and to her own detriment brought us both into this castle.’
‘It was long ago,’ said my mother, ‘and you were brought up here as my sister, Senara. There are unbreakable ties between us and I am glad that you have come back to us.’
‘Do tell us what happened,’ begged Rozen.
‘I went to Court. I married a gentleman of rank. We had a child, Carlotta. I had always wanted to see you, but of late the urge became irresistible. I must see you and Castle Paling before I was too old to travel. My husband agreed that I should pay a visit. He could not accompany us. He has a post at Court. So we set out. We arrived in London … and we travelled here by stages. That is all and now we are here and right glad to see you.’
‘You will stay with us for a long while, I hope,’ said my mother.
‘I have a feeling that I shall not be eager to leave this place. I must go back to Spain in due course, but to me Castle Paling is what I think of when I say home.’
My mother was deeply moved; so was Aunt Melanie.
Uncle Connell said that we must all drink to the return of Senara with her daughter and she must regard Castle Paling as her home for as long as she wished to, to which my mother replied with some firmness: ‘Senara was my sister. There is a home for her at Trystan Priory if she so wishes it.’
Senara held out one hand to my mother and one to Aunt Melanie.
‘God’s blessings on you both,’ she cried, ‘and right glad I am to be here. I long to be once more in the Castle, but when I lived here Tamsyn was my sister. We shared a bedroom at one time, do you remember, Tamsyn?’
‘Until you went to the Red Room.’
Senara closed her eyes and laughed, and I knew that she and Mother exchanged some memory.
‘You were my sister and it was to be with you that I came here. Yet the castle was my home … all the time I lived here. I will go with you, Tamsyn, for a while and then I will come back and stay at Castle Paling. How’s that? Of course it may well be that you will not want me here …’
‘Not want you!’ cried Melanie. ‘Why, it was your home.’
‘We change in … how many years is it, Tamsyn? Nearly thirty. What time has done to us. You do not look the age I know you must be. You live again in these delightful twins.’
‘As you do in your Carlotta. Women stay young when they think young and feel young and look young,’ said my mother.
Senara touched her plentiful black hair in which there did not appear to be one grey strand. ‘I have always cared what I look like. As did my mother. She has many secrets.’
‘She lives still?’ asked my mother.
‘In Madrid in grand style. It is how she always wanted to live. She resented it here.’
‘And she has remained young and beautiful?’
‘Not young—even she could not manage that. But she still is beautiful. She rules her household like a queen and it is said that she is more royal than royalty.’
‘Yes, I can believe it. What did she think of your coming to England?’
‘She scarcely gave the matter a thought. Perhaps she considered me a little mad. But she knew that I had been brought up by your mother and your influence was strong with me. You had made me sentimental, affectionate … a little like yourselves … Therefore I had these odd notions.’
Uncle Connell said: ‘I have a very special black cherry brandy. I shall send to the wine cellars for it. We will all drink to celebrate your return.’
‘You are good to me, Connell,’ said Senara. ‘Never shall I forget how you helped me escape from this house.’
‘Do you think I would have allowed the mob to lay hands on you?’
‘You became master of the castle on that night. Everyone knew then that though the old master lay crippled in his chair there was a new one as strong to take his place.’
I was fascinated. As they talked I was trying to piece the story together. One day I should read it all in the diaries of my mother and her mother Linnet, who had been the one who had rescued the witch from the sea, that witch who was this Senara’s mother.
We sat at the table. No one wished to move. They went on talking and we of the younger generation listened avidly, and as they talked a storm began to rise. The sky grew dark and we could hear the wind rousing the sea.
Melanie called for more candles to be lighted and the servants tiptoed around lighting them while the storm outside seemed to be increasing.
Still we sat on. It was as though no one wanted to leave that table; and Aunt Melanie, my mother, Senara and Uncle Connell talked of the old days and the picture of their lives began to take shape.
Then suddenly the door was flung open. We heard the roar of a voice which there was no mistaking. It belonged to Grandfather Casvellyn.
He propelled himself into the hall, his eyes looking wilder than ever as they raked the table and came to rest on Senara.
Melanie had risen to her feet.
‘Father … how did you come here? How did you leave the Seaward Tower?’
He glared at her. ‘No matter,’ he shouted. ‘I did. They brought me down. They carried me and brought me here. I insisted. If I want to come into any part of my castle I’ll do so. She’s here, they tell me. She’s come again … as they did all those years ago … the witch’s girl.’
‘Father,’ said Connell, ‘it’s Senara. Your own wife’s daughter.’
‘I know who it is. I was told and I knew they dared not lie to me. What do you want here?’ he demanded, glaring at Senara.
She rose and went to him. She was smiling in a way I didn’t understand. She knelt before him and lifted her face. In the candlelight it looked young and very beautiful.
‘I came back to my old home,’ she said. ‘I came to see you all.’
‘Go back where you came from. You and your kind bring no good to this house.’
Melanie cried: ‘Father, how can you!’
‘Don’t call me “father”. You’ve no right … just because my son married you. She’ll bring no good here. She’s her mother all over again.’