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Authors: Victoria Holt
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generations.
Now it was as though a whirlwind had struck the house and left the old order in ruins.
There were prayers every morning; the whole household attended, Miss Grey, discreet and demure, praying with the rest of us. But it was different. My father went to church on Sundays and I went with him, Miss Grey—as Lilias used to—accompanying us. But there was no chatting outside the church, only the occasional “How do you do” from my father and myself.
There was smouldering resentment in the kitchen, often openly displayed by the Kirkwells. They did not understand, any more than I did, why Miss Grey was allowed to remain in the house, or why she was chosen in the first place. She was a disruptive influence, not so much because of the manner in which she behaved—indeed she seemed to want to be on good terms with all of us—but because she was so different and people are suspicious of anything that does not conform to the rules.
It was at this time about nine months after my mother’s death. I felt bewildered. How often I wished that Lilias was with me so that I could have talked frankly to someone. I was caught up in the general uneasiness which pervaded the house; and then suddenly I stumbled on a clue which explained a great deal to me. It was like finding a key which opened a door to … knowledge.
It was night. I was in bed. I could not sleep and lay tossing and turning when suddenly I heard a faint noise. I sat up in bed listening. I was sure I heard light footsteps going along the corridor past my room.
I got out of bed and opened my door very slightly. I was in time to see a figure on the stairs. I tiptoed to the banisters and saw quite clearly that it was Miss Grey. She was in her night attire—very different from mine which buttoned up to the neck. Hers was diaphanous, pale green with lace and ribbons. Her hair was loose about her shoulders.
What was she doing? Walking in her sleep? I must be careful not to wake her. I had heard somewhere that this could be dangerous to sleepwalkers. Very quietly I started to follow her.
She had descended the staircase and was walking along the corridor. She paused at the door of the master bedroom. It was where my father slept.
She opened the door and went in. I stood still, staring after her. What was she doing? What would happen now? She would awaken my father.
I waited in trepidation. Nothing happened. I stood there staring at the door. He must be awake by now.
I waited. My bare feet were cold. Nothing happened.
I mounted the stairs and stood at the top looking down. Minutes passed … and still she was there.
Then I knew, of course, why she had come here … why she was unlike any other governess. The truth came to me in a flash of understanding.
She was no governess. She was my father’s mistress.
I LAY IN MY BED thinking of what this meant. But he was so religious! He had been so outraged by Kitty’s conduct. How could he when he was acting in a similar way himself? How could anybody be so hypocritical? I felt sick with disgust.
So he had brought her here for this. She went to his room at night. He had given her my mother’s ruby ring which was to have been mine. And this was my father—the worthy citizen, whom the people of this city so respected. Already he was putting Miss Grey in the place of my mother.
I did not know how I should act. I wanted to go to that room and burst in on them … as Aunt Roberta had on Kitty and Hamish. I wanted to tell them what I thought of them. Not so much for what they were doing—that was something I knew nothing about—but because it was despicable to stand in judgement against people who did the same.
What could I do? My impulse was to leave the house. How foolish! Where should I go? To Lilias? Again foolish. The Lakemere vicarage was not a home for all those in trouble. In any case, what I suffered from was not that sort of trouble.
I had a home, plenty to eat, comfort, and I felt I could never look my
Now it was as though a whirlwind had struck the house and left the old order in ruins.
There were prayers every morning; the whole household attended, Miss Grey, discreet and demure, praying with the rest of us. But it was different. My father went to church on Sundays and I went with him, Miss Grey—as Lilias used to—accompanying us. But there was no chatting outside the church, only the occasional “How do you do” from my father and myself.
There was smouldering resentment in the kitchen, often openly displayed by the Kirkwells. They did not understand, any more than I did, why Miss Grey was allowed to remain in the house, or why she was chosen in the first place. She was a disruptive influence, not so much because of the manner in which she behaved—indeed she seemed to want to be on good terms with all of us—but because she was so different and people are suspicious of anything that does not conform to the rules.
It was at this time about nine months after my mother’s death. I felt bewildered. How often I wished that Lilias was with me so that I could have talked frankly to someone. I was caught up in the general uneasiness which pervaded the house; and then suddenly I stumbled on a clue which explained a great deal to me. It was like finding a key which opened a door to … knowledge.
It was night. I was in bed. I could not sleep and lay tossing and turning when suddenly I heard a faint noise. I sat up in bed listening. I was sure I heard light footsteps going along the corridor past my room.
I got out of bed and opened my door very slightly. I was in time to see a figure on the stairs. I tiptoed to the banisters and saw quite clearly that it was Miss Grey. She was in her night attire—very different from mine which buttoned up to the neck. Hers was diaphanous, pale green with lace and ribbons. Her hair was loose about her shoulders.
What was she doing? Walking in her sleep? I must be careful not to wake her. I had heard somewhere that this could be dangerous to sleepwalkers. Very quietly I started to follow her.
She had descended the staircase and was walking along the corridor. She paused at the door of the master bedroom. It was where my father slept.
She opened the door and went in. I stood still, staring after her. What was she doing? What would happen now? She would awaken my father.
I waited in trepidation. Nothing happened. I stood there staring at the door. He must be awake by now.
I waited. My bare feet were cold. Nothing happened.
I mounted the stairs and stood at the top looking down. Minutes passed … and still she was there.
Then I knew, of course, why she had come here … why she was unlike any other governess. The truth came to me in a flash of understanding.
She was no governess. She was my father’s mistress.
I LAY IN MY BED thinking of what this meant. But he was so religious! He had been so outraged by Kitty’s conduct. How could he when he was acting in a similar way himself? How could anybody be so hypocritical? I felt sick with disgust.
So he had brought her here for this. She went to his room at night. He had given her my mother’s ruby ring which was to have been mine. And this was my father—the worthy citizen, whom the people of this city so respected. Already he was putting Miss Grey in the place of my mother.
I did not know how I should act. I wanted to go to that room and burst in on them … as Aunt Roberta had on Kitty and Hamish. I wanted to tell them what I thought of them. Not so much for what they were doing—that was something I knew nothing about—but because it was despicable to stand in judgement against people who did the same.
What could I do? My impulse was to leave the house. How foolish! Where should I go? To Lilias? Again foolish. The Lakemere vicarage was not a home for all those in trouble. In any case, what I suffered from was not that sort of trouble.
I had a home, plenty to eat, comfort, and I felt I could never look my
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