“Fancy having your haunting place changed!” said Helga.
“And a lot of girls put in it,” Yvonne added.
“Having midnight feasts in it,” said Anna B.
“I wonder they don’t all come out and haunt us,” said Lucia.
“It’s not our fault,” pointed out Caroline. “We didn’t make the change. We’re what you might call victims of circumstance. I think it is Madame Rochère who should look out.”
“She’d frighten any ghost away,” declared Lucia.
“How long is it since Madame Rochère made the change?” Yvonne prompted her guest.
“I think it was about thirty years ago. Old houses take a lot of money to keep up. The Rochères lost a lot of their property in the revolution…so then they came to this one, just over the border. They lived here as they had in their French château…and then of course Madame Rochère couldn’t afford to keep it up any longer. She’d married Monsieur Rochère, but hers was a great French family, too, and this house was very important to her. Monsieur Rochère died quite young and as she couldn’t keep up the house she decided to turn it into a school.”
“We all know that,” said Anna B. “What about the ghost?”
“Oh, that was long before…about two hundred years.”
“Time doesn’t count with ghosts,” said Anna B. “They can go on haunting for hundreds of years.”
“This was a lady….”
“It’s always ladies,” retorted Anna B. “They are better haunters than men.”
“It’s because more awful things happen to them,” said Caroline. “They have a reason to come back…for retribution.”
“Well, what about this ghost?” asked Yvonne.
“Well,” said Thérèse, “it’s a lady. She was young and beautiful.”
“They always are,” said Anna B.
“Do you want to hear about this ghost or not?” asked Lucia.
“Get on and tell us,” replied Anna B.
“Well, she was young and beautiful. She had married the heir of La Pinière and then her husband caught a pox and his life was in danger.”
“You get spots all over,” said Lucia. “And you are marked for life.”
“That’s right,” went on Thérèse. “She should have left him alone. It was very infectious. Everyone warned her, but she insisted on nursing him herself. She would not let anyone else do it. She was with him night and day and she did it all herself. They said she was risking her life, for people died of it, you know.”
“We did know,” said Anna B. “What happened to her? She died, I expect.”
“Not then. Her husband was cured. It was all due to her nursing. He was better and there were no marks on him at all. All the spots had gone and left no scars. He was more handsome than ever. But no sooner was he on the way to recovery than she found she was suffering from the pox, which she had caught.”
“From him!” said Lucia.
“Of course from him,” said Anna B, “who else?”
“Get on with the story,” cried Yvonne.
“Well, her beauty was gone. She was covered in spots.”
“And he nursed her back to health,” cut in Lucia.
“He certainly did not. She got better but her face was all pitted. She wore a veil over it, and he…well, he didn’t love her anymore because she had lost her beauty…in caring for him.”
“What a sad tale,” said Helga.
“There’s more to come. He neglected her. He had a mistress!”
There was a long sigh from everyone present. The girls were all sitting up. The story had taken on a new dimension with the introduction of the mistress.
“You see, she had lost her looks from the pox, and then he did this to her. And what did she do?”
“Killed the mistress…or him?” suggested Anna B.
“No, she did not. She went up to the top of the tower…and jumped right down and killed herself.”
There was a shocked silence.
“And,” went on Thérèse, “she now walks. She is the ghost. She can’t rest. Every now and then she walks through the hall right up the spiral staircase…you know, the one that leads to the tower. You can hear her footsteps on the stone, they say.”
“I’ve never heard them,” said Helga.
“You have to be sensitive to hear them,” Thérèse told her.
“I’m sensitive,” said Caroline.
“So am I,” we all cried.
“Well, perhaps you’ll hear them one day.”
“Has anyone seen her?”
“One of the girls said she did. She had long, flowing hair and there was a veil over her face.”
“I’d like to see her,” said Anna B.
“Perhaps you will,” replied Yvonne.
“What do you say to a ghost?” asked Lucia.
“You don’t say anything, of course,” retorted Thérèse. “You’re too frightened.”
“Perhaps one of us will see her,” I said.
“Who knows?” replied Thérèse.
After that we talked of ghosts. No one had seen any, but they had of course heard a great deal about them.
The clock in the tower struck two before the guests departed, and after having made sure that there were no crumbs to attract Mademoiselle Artois’s attention, we all went to bed.
After that night there was a good deal of talk about ghosts in general and in particular about the lady who had been disfigured by smallpox and had thrown herself from the top of the tower. An account of the midnight feast and the revelations of Thérèse were whispered from dormitory to dormitory.
We four used to talk about it continuously, after lights out. Anna B was quite interested, too. She said it showed how you had to be on your guard with men and it was a lesson: If they caught smallpox, never nurse them.
Some girls said they had heard footsteps in the night…steps walking across the hall and out to the tower.
I saw a little more of Anna B after that night; the feast had brought us closer, for those who could provide such an entertainment were not to be despised, even if they were only thirteen years old.
If I met her she would pause and talk and I was able to ask how she was getting on. She said she quite liked it. She loved the dancing, and she got on very well with Lucia. She did not ask how I was getting on. But that was typical of her.
One day I had a great surprise.
It was about half past four. We had finished lessons for the day and this was our rest period, when we could go to our dormitories to read or chat together.
I thought I would take a little walk in the gardens, which were very beautiful. This we were allowed to do, providing we did not go beyond the grounds.
As I was coming out of the house, I caught sight of Anna B. She was hurrying toward the shrubbery and I went after her.
She was some way ahead, and fearing that when she entered the shrubbery I should lose sight of her, I called her name.
She looked around. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, and went on walking. I ran up to her.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Oh…nowhere.”
“Really, Anna B. One doesn’t go nowhere.”
“Just for a walk, that’s all.”
And then I saw him. I could not believe it at first. It was so unexpected. For there, in the shrubbery, was Carl Zimmerman. My mind went back to the last time I had seen him, standing uncertainly outside the cubbyhole and then again inside it talking to us until Robert took him to the dining room.
He stared from me to Anna B.
“Why…” he began.
“You were at our home…do you remember?” I said.
He nodded.
“It is so strange to see you here…at our school….”