Daughter of Deceit (18 page)

Her heavy breathing was disrupting. I kept my eyes on the glass ball.

“Oh … I am aware of it now. My dear child, it is very close. You are threatened. Oh yes, it is there. I cannot but see it … I feel it … it is very close … oh, very close. How glad I am that I decided to speak to you. Oh yes … yes. It was time.”

I watched her while she laid her hand on the ball. She was staring into it.

“Danger,” she whispered. “Danger.”

“Where?” I asked. “From what?”

“I cannot quite see. It’s there … vague … menacing. No … I cannot quite see. But I know it is there.”

“You mean at Leverson Manor?”

She was nodding. “Enemies,” she said. “They are lying in wait … watching … waiting. Oh yes, this is a warning. No time to lose. You must go. Soon … it will be too late.”

“But what is this danger?”

“It is there … hovering over you. I see this black cloud. It is evil. I can tell you nothing more … only that it is there … near. It comes nearer … nearer. It is almost upon you. It is here … in this place. This is where danger awaits you. You must get away from here. You must not delay. There is still time.”

She fell back in her seat, breathing heavily. “No more,” she murmured. “No more … but it is enough.”

She leaned forward once more and looked into the ball.

“It is gone,” she said. “There is nothing more. You have had your warning. That is enough.”

Her breath was now coming in short gasps. “It is always so,” she muttered. “It is exhausting.”

I said: “Do you mean that you see me threatened … in that piece of glass? Then you must have seen who …”

She shook her head. “It is beyond our understanding. I see symbols. I sense that you are in danger. You have just suffered a great loss. You are alone … bewildered. This I knew when I first met you. And I knew, too, that there was some menace. You are in dangerous waters. That is all I can tell you, and you can avoid this danger by leaving this place. It could only happen here.”

I said: “Should I go back to the Manor and tell them that you have advised me to leave?”

She smiled slowly. “They would laugh. Lady Constance thinks that it is Lady Constance who rules the universe, not Almighty God. His ways are mysterious and a closed book to such as she is. Do not tell them you have seen me. Pack your bags. Make excuses if you must, but do not tell them what you have learned from me. You will not be understood.”

I rose unsteadily to my feet. I was considerably shaken by the experience even though I was inclined to be sceptical. This dark room seemed sinister and my strange companion was almost convincing me that I was in the presence of the supernatural.

I
even felt then that my decision was being made for me. The thought occurred to me that I might be receiving guidance from my mother. If it were possible for her to come back to help me, I knew she would do so.

Then my thoughts had turned to Lady Constance. I knew that she hated me and wanted me gone.

“I can see you are distressed,” said Mrs. Carling. “Don’t be, my dear. You have had your warning. You and I clearly have been brought together for a purpose. Go back to London without delay and in a short time you will know what you have to do. This is not the place for you. That much is clear. The danger is here.”

“I am so uncertain. If only my mother were here … but then, if she were, none of this would have arisen.”

“It is no use saying if, my dear. Life moves on. What is to be will be.”

“Then perhaps I cannot avoid this … calamity which is waiting for me.”

“You can. You can. That is at the root of it. That is why I knew I had to see you. I had to look into the future for you. It was meant. I sensed it the moment I saw you … no … before— when I heard you were here. Go back, pack your bags … leave while there is time.”

I murmured: “I have to think about it.”

She smiled at me resignedly. “Your fate is in your hands. It is so with us all.”

I felt I had to get away.

I said: “Thank you, Mrs. Carling, for all you have done to help me.”

“I had to do it. It was my duty. The best repayment you can make is to get yourself out of danger.”

As I walked away from the cottage, the feeling that I had had a glimpse of the future began to recede. In the open air normality returned.

How had I allowed myself to be duped—even momentarily— by such a theatrical performance? Surely I, of all people, should know when people were playing a part. Of course, there was a certain atmosphere in the house. There was hostility towards me in
the Manor. Perhaps I should go. My presence was obviously offensive to Lady Constance.

Mrs. Carling was right in one thing: I should leave Leverson Manor, but not because of any imminent danger. Mrs. Carling had been playing a part as surely as I had seen my mother do many times. There was a certain power in having knowledge which others did not possess. Mrs. Carling certainly had convinced herself that she had.

I went straight up to my room.

My problem was beginning to solve itself. I faced the facts. I was unwanted in some quarters of Leverson Manor and welcome in others.

But Mrs. Carling was right. I should get away. Yet when I encountered Charlie and Roderick that evening, I realized that I could not announce my impending departure without some reasonable excuse other than that an old woman who was possibly a little unbalanced had read my fate in a crystal ball.

I spent a sleepless night and awoke with the conviction that I must find a suitable excuse, and Charlie should be the one to receive it. He must understand Lady Constance’s aversion to me and surely he must have some guilty feelings about bringing me into the household. If I told Roderick that I intended to go, he would find all sorts of reasons why I should not. Charlie must realize the position and perhaps agree that, much as he wished to carry out my mother’s instructions to look after me, bringing me into his household was not the best way of doing it.

I awoke in the morning and went, as I usually did, to the window to look out on the splendour of the gardens, which were at their best at this time of day. It was fortuitous, for the first person I saw was Charlie, sitting on the wicker seat on the lawn, and he was alone.

Now was the time. I hastily washed and dressed, hoping that he would still be there when I was ready to go down. By good fortune he was. He called a cheery “Good morning” as I came out of the house and I went over to him.

“It’s a glorious morning,” he said.

“Charlie,” I told him. “I have to talk to you.”

“Sit down,” he said, looking at me anxiously. “Is anything wrong?”

“Yes, it is. I have to go, Charlie. I can’t stay here.”

He was silent for a few moments. Then he asked: “Is it … my wife?”

“Well, yes. She doesn’t want me here.”

“She will change.”

“I don’t think she will. After all, it is asking a lot of her.”

He brooded for a moment. “She will grow accustomed to having you around,” he said, with more hope than conviction.

“No, Charlie, she will not. And I have decided that I must go.”

“Where to? And what will you do?”

“I have to make up my mind. The blow came too suddenly. It was the last thing I expected. She was so well … and she had such vitality … and then, to go like that.”

He held my hand and pressed it. He understood; he felt the same.

“What can I do, Charlie?” I asked.

“There is always a home for you here. I promised her …”

“I know. But she would be the first to understand that I have to go, and the sooner, the better.”

“To London?”

“Just at first. I thought I might get some post.”

“Post? What sort of post?”

“Governess. Companion. That is what most people do when they are in my position.”

“It would not do for you, Noelle. You have your mother’s independent spirit.”

“An independent spirit is all very well if you have the means to support it. I know roughly what my position is. I shall have to consider.”

“My dear Noelle, there is no need to think about that. I am going to give you an allowance.”

“Thank you, Charlie, but I could not accept it. I want to stand on my own feet. When the solicitors have worked things out in
detail, I shall know exactly where I stand and what I can do. Very shortly I am going to Mason, Mason & Crevitt and everything will be clear. In the meantime I shall go back to London. Robert will let me stay in the house for a while.”

“Robert bought the house so that it would always be a home for you … in the way it always had been.”

“I cannot take that from him, any more than I can take an allowance from you. I shall not be entirely penniless. Compared with some people, I shall be affluent. Charlie, I have to get away.”

“I have sworn to look after you, Noelle. I promised your mother. She made me swear.”

“Yes, I know you promised her, but she did not foresee difficulties. And … I have made up my mind.”

He sighed. Then he said: “Very soon I shall be going abroad on business. Probably the day after tomorrow. I shall be away for several weeks. Promise me this. You will not go until I come back.”

I could almost hear the voice of Mrs. Carling: “You must get away at once.”

She seemed a long way from reality. Out here in the fresh morning air, I could tell myself that it was ridiculous to be influenced by an old woman with a crystal ball. It smacked of theatrical melodrama. I was sure Charlie would have laughed it to scorn if I had told him.

“That’s a promise, then,” he said. “I tell you what we’ll do, Noelle. Why not go and see your solicitor now? You could travel up to London with me and stay at our place, or your old home. It need only be for a night or two. You could hear what the solicitor has to say and then we could discuss it when I get back. How’s that?”

“Yes. It sounds sensible.”

“You don’t want to rush into anything. You’re shocked, Noelle, still. We all are. It was so sudden and she meant so much to us. We can’t think clearly. I want to know you are under my roof. That is what she wanted. I don’t want you to be in London … alone. So let’s fix it, shall we? You and I will go to London. I shall be going off to the Continent at once. You’ll stay there for a day or so and
then come back here. I promise you that when I return to Leverson, we’ll go into all this thoroughly.”

“Yes,” I said. “That seems a good idea.”

I was relieved. In spite of the hostility of Lady Constance, the warning from Mrs. Carling and the feeling that I should not be here, I did not want to leave Leverson.

The Fire and the Rain

Charlie and I arrived in London
in the late afternoon. I was deeply moved to be back, and the familiar sights gave me mingling feelings of pleasure and pain. Everywhere there was so much to remind me of her. Charlie and I said little, but we understood each other’s mood because we shared it.

I was staying at his London house. I could have gone to my old home, but I thought that would have been too painful just yet, and there was a certain anonymity about Charlie’s pied-a-terre, something impersonal which suited me at the moment.

The following day Charlie left for the Continent and I went to Mason, Mason & Crevitt. The result of that interview was the assurance that the capital left by my mother would bring me in a small income—enough to live on frugally—so there was no immediate need to think of augmenting it. The position was much as I had thought it to be. If there had been an urgent need, I should have had to take some action. I almost wished there had been something more positive.

I decided that I would not return to Leverson yet.

It was inevitable that I should call at my old home. I had walked past it and resisted the impulse to knock at the door. I kept
remembering too much, even in the street. There was the spot where Lisa Fennell had fallen in front of the carriage and so come into our lives. There was the window where I used to watch for my mother’s return from the theatre.

I had felt then that it would be unbearable to go inside.