Sophie replied: “Such a lot would have to be done.”
“You would enjoy doing it,” Jeanne told her.
They mounted the stairs with Dolly in their wake. I felt an urge to look at the rooms. I went into the main bedroom. There was a high four-poster bed there. I touched the curtains and they almost disintegrated in my hands, so old were they, but the wood of the bed was very solid and beautifully carved; and the court cupboard on the other side of the room would look very fine if polished. Yes, it was true, there was a great deal of good furniture in the place and going with the house.
But of course Sophie could not be seriously thinking of taking it. It was too large really… just for her and Jeanne. This was a house which needed people—lots of them—a jolly family, parties at Christmas and such times, dancing in the hall.
I went along to the smaller bedroom where I had once fancied I heard a voice. I stood in the centre of the room. There was a four-poster there, smaller than the other, more modern, and the curtains about it were quite good—heavy blue velvet; but they were very dusty and there were cobwebs in the room.
A ghostly room, I thought. But that was because I had fancied I heard a voice here.
Then I heard it again. The same hollow voice. It said: “You’re being watched, Mrs. Frenshaw.”
I stared up at the ceiling, at the walls; I stood, bewildered, looking about me.
“Who’s there?” I cried sharply.
Silence, and then clearly I heard the quick intake of breath, the low laugh… horrible laughter. Someone was jeering at me.
I went to the door. There was no one in the corridor.
I was shaking. Why should I imagine I could hear voices in this room? There was no one here. I must have imagined it and yet I could have sworn…
Dolly was coming down the stairs.
“Is Mademoiselle still up there?” I asked.
“Yes. They like it.”
“No,” I replied. “They are just interested.”
She shook her head. “They do like it. It suits the lady. It’s what she wants.”
“She won’t make a hasty decision.”
I had stepped back into the room and Dolly had followed me. I had a good opportunity of studying her. The drawn-down eye gave her an evil look at times—and yet the rest of her was so dainty, fragile even. Her good eye was large, blue and heavily lashed; her nose was delicate and well shaped. But for the deformity she would have been a beauty like her sister.
“Do you like this room, Mrs. Frenshaw?” she asked.
“No. I don’t think I like any of the house.”
“I like this house,” she said almost rapturously. She stood in the middle of the room and looked up at the ceiling.
Then I heard it again, the quick intake of breath and the low, quiet, sneering laughter.
“Who is that?” I asked.
Dolly was staring blankly at me.
“Didn’t you hear something, someone close… laughing?”
Dolly looked at me oddly. “I didn’t hear anyone,” she said.
“But—it was quite distinct.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything,” she repeated. “There are echoes in old houses. Besides, who could there be? There’s no one here.”
I went to the door and looked out. I felt I did not want to stay in that haunted room with the strange girl.
I hurried up to the next floor. Sophie and Jeanne were in close conversation.
Jeanne was saying what could be done, how they would furnish it. How they would use the space.
It can’t be true, I thought. Sophie is seriously considering Enderby.
On our walk back to Eversleigh Sophie was very quiet. Of course, I was telling myself, she is not really serious. There was something quite fascinating about looking at houses and considering them as potential homes; and I had to remember that Sophie had just come through a shattering experience. It must seem very exciting to her to be safe, to be in a position to consider making a home for herself in a new country.
My mother was waiting for us when we returned and Dickon was with her.
She said: “I was hoping you would come in before it was dark. How did you get on?”
“The Trents were there with the key—grandmother and two grand-daughters.”
“And what did you think of Enderby, Sophie?”
Sophie clasped her hands together and half closed her eyes. “I found it very… interesting.”
“Oh, it’s that all right. None would deny it, but… as a home…”
Sophie looked at Jeanne, who said: “Mademoiselle Sophie wants to see it again tomorrow.”
“Oh,” said my mother, “so you weren’t completely put off.”
Sophie shook her head emphatically.
“So you will go tomorrow,” went on my mother. “Will you go with them, Claudine?”
“It is not necessary,” said Sophie. “We know our way now and we have the key.”
“I’d like to come… unless you want to go alone, Aunt Sophie.”
She smiled at me. “Come with us then… but you mustn’t try to dissuade me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. But you can’t seriously…”
Sophie turned to Dickon. “I should like to talk to you about getting the money.”
“I shall be going to London early tomorrow,” said Dickon, “so perhaps you could talk to me right away.”
“I’ll come to your room.”
He said: “I’ll see you shortly, Lottie. Don’t forget we are leaving at dawn tomorrow…”
My mother nodded and Dickon went off with Sophie, Jeanne following.
My mother looked at me in amazement. “She’s surely not thinking of buying that house!”
“She seemed rather taken with it. It is a fascinating place. In a way she somehow seems to fit into it.”
“Yes. I see what you mean. I hope she won’t take it and live there like a hermit.”
“Could she buy it?”
“Many times over, I imagine. Dickon has seen the jewellery they brought with them. It really is fantastic. The Count was a very rich man, one of the richest in France, and I imagine his first wife brought more wealth into the family. The jewels are priceless, so Dickon says, and there won’t be any difficulty in disposing of them. Of course other émigrés are trying to sell what they have salvaged, but I should imagine few have such a collection as that which Sophie has brought with her. Jeanne had been hiding them for quite a long time. She is a farsighted woman; moreover her visits to the town and her chats with people must have given her a clearer view of what was coming than that of the people in the château. Sophie, most certainly, would be able to buy the house and live there independent of us all, as far as finances are concerned. She is delighted because although she is very welcome here, she wants to be on her own, and I understand that. She doesn’t want to be dependent on Dickon’s charity. Dickon says that Enderby is about one of the biggest bargains one could find anywhere in the country. It has stood empty for so long and it has that ghostly reputation. A great deal would have to be done, of course, but it is still a bargain. I believe certain furniture has been left there. Some of it is so big that it would be difficult to move it. It must have been made on the premises. Whether that’s true, I don’t know; but I believe some of it has been there almost as long as the house.”
“Imagine Sophie and Jeanne alone in that house. They would have servants though… and perhaps guests to stay.”
“What guests! Can you imagine Sophie entertaining? Oh, Claudine, I hope she doesn’t take it. I’ve never liked the house. I hoped it would crumble away… that the roof and the walls would fall in and birds would rest there and the rats and mice take over the last stages of destruction.”
“Oh, Maman, how can you condemn it to such a fate? It is a house, after all. I know it’s haunted. I would never be happy living there, but to condemn it to destruction… it’s like condemning a person.”