The Lady and the Lake (18 page)

‘Please
take
me
back,’
I
said
so
suddenly
I
quite
surprised
myself.
I
had
at
last
come
to
my
senses,
realising
how
wrong
this
was.

‘I’m
not
turning
back
now,
we
are
only
two
miles
away
and
my
mother
is
expecting
us,’
he
said
quite
seriously
for
once.

‘Your
mother?’
I
exclaimed.
‘You
didn’t
mention
your
mother.’

‘I
surely
didn’t
need
to.
Come
on
Abigail,
smile
and
enjoy
the
day,’
he
coaxed.

There
was
nothing
I
could
do,
it
were
as
if
I
were
on
a
slippery
path
and
couldn’t
get
off.
We
travelled
in
silence
for
quite
a
while
until
Thomas
pointed
out
the
sea
to
our
right.
It
shimmered calmly
in
the
sunlight
in
total
contrast
to
the
never
ending
moorland.

Without
warning
Thomas
pulled
up
outside
a
wooden
gate
and
over
the
privet
hedge
I
could
see
a
delightful
pink
thatched
cottage,
an
arch
of
white
roses
around
the
door,
quite
idyllic
and
picturesque.

‘Welcome
to
Tidwell
House,’
he
said.

‘So
this
is
your
home,’
I
answered
him,
‘it
is
delightful.’
And
as
I
spoke
I
could
see
a
middle-aged
woman
walking
down
the
path
to
greet
us.

Thomas
chivalrously
helped
me
alight
from
the
trap
and
then
introduced
me
to
his
smiling
mother.

She
was
a
nice
looking
woman
for
her
age,
a
pleasant
rounded
face,
greying
hair
secured
at
the
nape
of
her
neck
with
a
plumpish
figure
dressed
in
an
expensive
blue
gown
with
ruffles
at
her
neck
and
sleeves.

We
sat
under
a
parasol
in
the
splendid
colourful
garden,
sipping
cool
lemonade
and
eating
small
sponge
cakes.
It
was
all
very
civilised,
but somehow
unreality
set
in,
so
I
was
startled
when
Mrs
Craddock
spoke.
‘And
what
do
you
make
of
my
sister?’
she
asked,
looking
directly
at
me
intent
on
an
answer.

‘In
truth,
I’ve
not
seen
much
of
her
since
my
arrival,’
I
replied,
unable
to
tell
this
sister
of
Henrietta’s
my
true
feelings.

‘She
has
never
been
the
same
since
her
accident
in
the
carriage
thirty-five
years
ago.’
Mary
Craddock
spoke
almost
as
if
relating
a
much
told
story.
‘She
will
carry
the
scars
to
her
grave,
it
has
also
scarred
her
personality.
As
a
young
woman
she
was
kind
and
gentle,
but
now...’ Here
she
stopped.

‘Please
don’t
distress
yourself,’
I
said
kindly,
for
I
could
see
the
sadness
on
the
woman’s
face.

‘No
I
mustn’t,
for
it
was
all
so
long
ago
and
nothing
can
be
altered,’
she
agreed.
Now,
I
heard
that
you’d
like
to
see
Whitby.’

‘Yes
I
would,
and
I
need
a
haberdashery
shop
where
I
can
purchase
some silk
flowers.’
I
told
her.

‘No
need
to
find
a
shop,
I
have
plenty
in
my
sewing
room,
all
different
colours
and
sizes.
Please
come
with
me,
Abigail.’

So
we
left
Thomas
alone
in
the
garden
and
I
stepped
into
the
cottage
with
his
mother.
It
was
cool
inside
for
which
I
was
thankful.
In
the
narrow
hallway
a
picture
of
Kerslake
Hall
hung
on
the
wall,
no
doubt
a
copy
of
the
one
that
I
had
seen
in
the
long
gallery.
It
seemed
that
anyone
with
association
to
the
Hall
could
not
escape
it
and
I
wondered
if
I
ever
would,
for
the
place
had
got
under
my
skin
and
I
already
felt
part
of
it.

Mrs
Craddock
led
me
up
red
thickly
carpeted
stairs,
the
place
was
cosy
and
inviting,
unlike
the
Hall.
She
led
me
into
a
room
which
was
full
of
sunlight.
There
were
two
tailor’s
dummies
in
the
middle
of
the
room,
one
of
which
held
an
unfinished
yellow
gown.

I
was
led
to
a
large
red
pot
in
a
corner
which
stood
on
a
round
table. Inside
were
indeed
many
silk
flowers
of
different
colours
and
sizes.

‘Pick
out
what
you’d
like,
dear,
for
I
have
no
use
for
all
of
them.
I
bought
them
because
it
is
fashionable
at
the
moment
to
decorate
gowns
with
flowers.
I
gather
this
is
what
you
want
them
for?’
Mary
Craddock
enquired.

‘Yes
it
is
indeed,
I
wish
to
decorate
my
best
blue
dress
in
preparation
for
Emily’s
party
next
week,’
I
explained.