‘Is his son Hugo here too?’ asked Griselda.
The effect was unexpected. Zec stared into Griselda’s eyes, his own the colour of granite setts and as unyielding, then said: ‘Young woman, it is time you learned that to shock and insult your elders is never amusing.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Griselda calmly. ‘Hugo Raunds is only a name to me. I know nothing whatever about him.’
‘I think,’ said the hard-faced woman, ‘that you’d be well advised to leave it at the apology.’ Clearly she supported Zec in aggression though in however little else.
Griselda was about to rise from her chair and walk away when she became aware of tapping on the high French window behind her.
‘I told you Hugo was a very secret man,’ said the voice of Louise.
Griselda nearly fell off her chair with surprise.
The window had been opened and stood slightly ajar. Louise’s pale face and large glasses were just visible through the gap.
‘Have you got a partner?’
‘No. I’m a wallflower.’
‘Come away.’
Louise’s hand entered through the gap, took Griselda by the wrist, and with unexpected strength drew her outside into the garden before she had time to consider. Louise shut the window and fastened it as easily as she had opened it. The two of them looked through the glass at the disgusted faces of Zec and his friends. A few of the other guests had noticed the brief draught; and it was clear that already, seconds later, they had forgotten it. Even Zec did not consider the incident worth rising from his seat to investigate.
‘Louise, I’ll be cold.’
‘I think not. If you are, there’s a cloak.’
‘Where?’
‘In the Temple of Venus.’
‘What’s that?’
‘One of the Duke of St Helens’s follies. We’re going there.’
Indeed it was one of those precocious spring days which anticipate or excel Midsummer. There were stars and a moon. How very wrong Mullet had been!
Louise had changed into a simple but elegant black coat and skirt and a white silk shirt. The night was full of her perfume.
‘You can see the Temple of Venus at the end of the vista. But the Water of Circe lies between us and it; so, as we have to go round it, the walk’s longer than it looks.’
‘Circe lived on an island.’
‘There is an island. In the middle of the lake. It’s where she’s buried.’
‘Circe?’
‘No. Not Circe.’
‘Stephanie?’ Griselda almost whispered.
‘Of course.’
They set out. It was a broad grassy way, cut wonderfully short. In lines parallel with the grass were beds of flowers just coming into bloom, but drained of what colour was theirs by the moon.
‘What about the dew?’ Griselda’s shoes were for dancing.
‘There is no dew. That means it will probably rain tomorrow. We must make the most of tonight.’
‘Yes, you can smell in the flowers that rain’s coming.’
‘This morning’s rain also.’
‘It would be nice if it sometimes stayed fine for longer on end,’ said Griselda.
‘Nice. But, like most nice things, probably unnatural,’ replied Louise. ‘What do you think of dancing?’
‘I’ve never danced before tonight – or rather today.’
‘I know.’
‘Was it so obvious?’
‘It came out. Never mind. How do you like it?’
‘I think that much depends on one’s partner.’
‘When does it not?’
They walked in silence the few more steps which brought them to the edge of the lake.
‘Don’t look back till we’re round the other side and have the lake between us and the house,’ said Louise; and Griselda never thought of disobeying.
‘Give me your hand,’ continued Louise. ‘The path round the lake is wooded and much rougher. There are roots.’ Griselda placed her warm right hand in Louise’s chilly left one.
As soon as they had entered the trees the music from the house rapidly faded away.
‘The path twists,’ said Griselda.
‘The Duke did not intend the shortest way between two points.’
‘But the trees grow very regularly.’
‘They do not grow. They were planted. This is called the Grove of the Hamamelids because every tree bears a fruit.’
Griselda did not know what Hamamelids were or had been, but the new blossom was ubiquitous, claiming alike the senses of sight, smell, hearing, and touch.
‘It’s an orchard.’
‘No, Griselda, it’s a grove. It’s believed to be the only grove of its kind anywhere.’
After many swift sinuosities the path reached and crossed a wooden bridge in what appeared to be the Chinese style. The blossom, the moon, and the bridge compounded a scene very like to the Orient before one got there, thought Griselda.
‘This is the stream which feeds the lake,’ said Louise.
‘Where’s the path?’ asked Griselda, looking round. Beyond the bridge it appeared simply to stop, although hitherto it had been wide enough for the two of them abreast.
‘The path ends here. After they crossed this bridge, the Duke and Stephanie had no need of it; nor were others desired to follow them.’
Griselda and Louise found their way hand in hand among the trees along the edge of the lake until they rediscovered the vista.
‘Now you can look back.’
Across the water and up the other half of the vista the house, normally a trifle obvious in aspect, appeared unbelievably mysterious. The misty moonlight blurred all detail, but across the line of long lighted windows the keen eyes of Griselda could see the moving figures metamorphosed into beauty by night and distance. Looking at them as they danced, it was impossible to believe they were the people Griselda had just left. At that distance she could imagine herself longing to join them.
‘If it were all like that,’ she said, ‘we would neither of us ever wish to leave.’
Now they were out of the grove, the music just reached them.
Turning their backs on the sound and once more retreating from the populous house, they continued towards the Temple of Venus, now black before them at the other end of the vista.
‘I want to see you again, Louise,’ said Griselda. ‘After I leave Beams.’
‘We will talk about that when we get to the Temple. It may not be possible, Griselda.’
If there was any doubt, Griselda did not want to talk about it. She changed the subject.
‘Do you often come to the Temple?’
‘Only at night, when I can’t be seen. I wear black and it is not difficult to remain unobserved.’
‘Did the Duke build the Temple for Stephanie?’
‘Yes. She lived in the house, but she was happiest in the Temple. She was seldom happy, poor Stephanie.’
‘Like you, poor Louise.’
‘Like us, poor Griselda.’
‘I’m happy tonight.’
Louise did not reply.
They walked the short distance remaining in silence.
At first sight in the darkness the Temple seemed to consist of a portico, surprisingly lofty, and with Ionic columns. Up three broad steps was a chamber open to the garden and appearing semicircular in the moonlight.
‘Before you enter,’ said Louise, stopping Griselda at the foot of the steps, ‘I think you had better put on this mask.’ She produced a black velvet domino from a pocket of her jacket. Griselda was about to demur or enquire further, but thought better of it, and consented without a word to Louise putting the mask round her eyes and tying it tightly at the back of her head. Louise knew how to do this so that the wearer had no uncomfortable sensation that the mask was about to slip.
‘I like it,’ said Griselda; and immediately ascended the steps.