"Elephants never forget," called Violet from the kitchen. "And people never forget white elephants."
"Violet's in a spry mood this morning," commented Aunt Patty. "It's because she's going to get Teresa to help her in the potting shed.
"I'll go and get my coat and come with you," I said.
When I came down, a man was coming up the path. He was tall and fair and I had never seen him before.
Violet had glimpsed him through the kitchen window.
"He's here," she cried. "The gentleman who called."
I went into the front garden.
He said: "You must be Cordelia ... Miss Grant."
"Yes," I replied. "I'm afraid I don't know-"
" You wouldn't know me but I felt I had to come and see you. I'm John Markham, Lydia's brother. You remember Lydia?"
"Lydia Markham! But of course. Oh, how nice to meet you."
"I hope you don't mind my coming like this."
"I'm pleased you called." Aunt Patty had come up. "Aunt Patty," I said, "this is Mr. Markham. You've heard me talk of Lydia who was with me at Schaffenbrucken. This is her brother."
"It's nice to see you," said Aunt Patty. "Did you call the other day?"
"Yes, I did, and I was told I would fend Miss Grant here today."
"Do come in."
"Weren't you just going out?"
"It doesn't matter."
I took him into the small drawing room. Violet came in.
"You came back then," she said. "Now do sit down. I'm going to get you something. Would you like coffee or tea?"
"First," he said. "I would like to talk to Miss Grant."
"I'll bring you something later," said Violet. "The parsnip wine was particularly good this year."
"Thank you."
"I shah get off to the vicarage," said Aunt Patty. "You two can have a talk and we'll all meet later."
So they withdrew and left us.
He said: "I hope I haven't come at an inconvenient time."
"Certainly not. I'm so glad to meet you. I have wondered about Lydia quite a lot because I wrote to her and I never had a reply. How is she? I wish you had brought her with you."
"Lydia is dead," he said.
"Dead! But ..."
"Yes. It was a great blow to us. We miss her very much."
"But she was young ... She was never ill. How did she die?"
"It was an accident ... in the mountains ... in Switzerland. She was skiing."
"Lydia skiing! She always avoided outdoor sports when we were at school. She even used to dodge gym if she could."
"She was with her husband."
"Her husband! So Lydia married!"
"It's quite a long story. I wanted to see you because she had often talked of you. I think of all her school friends, you were the favourite. Then you wrote to her. I found your letter and I felt that I had either to write and tell you what happened or come and see you. So I came."
"I'm sorry ... I can't think clearly. This is such a shock. Lydia ... dead!"
"It was very tragic. Her husband was heartbroken. They had not been married more than three months."
"I can't believe this. I thought she was to have another year at Schaffenbrucken.
"Yes, I know. She was only seventeen. But she met this man and fell in love with him. We wanted them to wait but Lydia wouldn't do that. She could be very headstrong. Our father was most uncertain but he doted on Lydia. My brother and I were several years older. He was devoted to us all but he just adored Lydia. He died soon after she did. He had a weak heart and the shock just finished him."
"I can't tell you how upsetting this is."
"It is good of you to care so much. I wanted you to know. I thought you might write to Lydia again."
"Where did she meet this young man?"
"Mark Chessingham was staying near our farm in Epping. We're not farmers. The farm is run by a manager but it is a hobby for us. We live mainly in London and escape to the farm for weekends and when we can get away. He was there studying law. His family had their business in Basle and quarters in London, but he had come down to the forest to work. He had examinations to pass. Our farm is right on the edge of Epping Forest which is very convenient being so near to London. Actually that was why my father selected the spot in the first place."
He paused for a short while and then went on: "She met him one day. They fell in love and wanted to marry. My father would have preferred a long engagement but Lydia wouldn't hear of it and threatened to elope if consent was not given. In the end my father gave way ... with misgivings, of course ... But Mark was charming and it seemed quite a suitable match. As it was so quick there was a quiet wedding."
"She didn't write and tell me."
"Strange really, because she often mentioned you, and was so proud of him and of being married. He was a very pleasant fellow. Lydia had a little fortune which came to her on marriage. At first I thought that might have had something to do with it, but he seemed to be so well-off himself and his family's business was known, even in England, and he never showed the slightest interest in her money. They left England almost immediately after the wedding and three months later ... she was dead. We had such happy letters from her and even my father had come to the conclusion that after all he had been right to allow her to marry. Then one day we got the news. Mark was heart-broken. He wrote a most pathetic letter to us. She was too reckless, he said. Many times he had warned her. But she took risks. She was so enthusiastic, so anxious to shine in his eyes and tried to undertake what the experts did. That was the end. They didn't recover her body until a week after the accident."
I was silent and he said gently: "I am sorry to distress you like this. Perhaps it would have been better if I hadn't come."
"No, no. I'd rather know. But it is such a shock. When you have known someone as well as I knew Lydia ... even though it is some time since I saw her..."
"I'm glad you were so fond of her."
"Tell me," I said, "are you on holiday?"
"No. I am working in London but I thought I would take a few days off and come to see you. I just had the feeling that I wanted to. I have to confess that I read your last letter to Lydia and I felt then that I had to let you know. I didn't want you to think she hadn't bothered to answer."
"Lydia used to talk about her family quite a lot. She was so fond of you ail. I suppose you are the head of the family now."
"You could say that. There has never been a patriarchal attitude in our family. We were all such good friends."
"You're in banking, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"In the City of London?"
He nodded. "We have a house in Kensington, and then of course the farm. My mother died but we were always lucky in having good governesses for Lydia. There was always a lot of fun at home. Our father was more like a brother to us. Perhaps he wasn't strict enough ... with Lydia for instance. If she had waited ... If she had not been so reckless ..."
"She was such a happy girl. The way she talked about home ... you could tell what it meant to her."
"Then she went away with a man she scarcely knew."
"That," I said, "is love."
"I suppose you are right. If only ... This is a morbid subject. Please tell me about yourself. Lydia used to say you were going into partnership with your aunt in some wonderful Elizabethan manor."
"I think I must have exaggerated about the glories of that Elizabethan manor. Perhaps I tend to exaggerate when I'm proud of something."
"It may be that we all do."
"I seemed to give the girls an impression that we were fabulously rich and that we had this priceless manor with a very successful school as a kind of hobby. When I got home for the holidays I found that my aunt was in financial difficulties, was selling the house and that I was to have a post in another school."
"Which you did."
"Yes, in Devon-a rather marvellous old place in the midst of a ruined Abbey. The school is the old Lay Brothers' quarters."