The Lady and the Lake (30 page)

At
a
quarter
to
one
we
sat
together
quietly
on
the
bed
waiting
for
the
footsteps.
No
mention
had
been
made
of
marriage
and
I
felt
quite
despondent,
then
realised
it
wasn’t
really
the
right
time
to
talk
of
such
things.
My
thoughts
were
interrupted
by
the
sound
of
footsteps.
We
both
got
to
our
feet
and
quickly
made
our
way
to
the
door
of
the
tower
being
as
quiet
as
possible.

Thomas
held
my
hand,
the
corridor
was
silent
and
I
fell
a
few
steps
behind
him
feeling
quite
nervous.
The
tower
door
was
ajar
and
we
gently
eased
it
back
so
we
could
pass
through.

The
light
of
the
candle
from
above
lighting
the
stone
steps
before
us.
I
lifted
my
skirts
as
I
followed
Thomas
towards
the
curve
in
the
stairway.
It
was
then
that
the
piercing
scream
came.
Close
to
it
was
far
worse
than
I’d
heard
it
in
my
bedroom,
I
clapped
my
hands
over
my
ears
as
I
could
hardly
bear
it.

When
it
stopped
the
sound
of
it
still
echoed
faintly
round
the
tower,
Thomas moved
forward
and
beckoned
me
on.
We
stood
almost
touching
in
the
final
step,
with
the
woman
in
white
before
us
her
frame
almost
obscuring
the
narrow
mirror.

Even
as
we
looked
she
held
the
candle
high
and
turned
slowly
around.
I
gasped
when
I
saw
the
twisted
face
before
us,
it
was
then
she
saw
us.
I
looked
mesmerised
by
the
pink
scars
on
her
cheeks
and
could
see
she
only
had
one
eye.
I
looked
at
the
bright
red
rouge
on
the
twisted
mouth
and
knew
without
a
doubt
it
was
Henrietta
Kershaw.

‘So
you’ve
seen
me
now,’
she
said,
a
sob
escaping
her
lips.
‘Now
what
will
you
do,
hate
me
more?’
And
the
tears
started
to
roll
down
her
cheeks.

‘We
don’t
hate
you,
Aunt
Henry,’
said
Thomas
with
compassion
in
his
voice,
and
in
that
moment
I
was
certain
that
I
loved
him.

‘I’ve
lived
with
this
for
thirty-five
years.
Some
nights
I
just
have
to
look
at
myself
hoping
that
at
some
time
I
would
find
myself
beautiful
again,
but
I still
see
the
same
scars
and
my
heart
is
heavy
for
I
want
the
old
me
back.’
As
she
spoke
the
candle
wavered
in
her
hand
and
Thomas
gently
took
it
from
her
and
I
could
see
that
the
old
lady’s
hair
was
a
beautiful
silver
grey
falling
over
her
shoulders.
The
more
I
looked
at
her
the
less
I
noticed
her
twisted
face
and
could
see
the
poor
tormented
soul
that
lay
behind
it.

‘Come,
Aunt
Henry,’
said
Thomas
gently,
let
me
take
you
back
to
your
room.’

‘I
will
do
that,
Sir.’
We
turned
around
to
see
Mrs
Grafton
on
the
stairs,
a
candle
in
her
hand
and
I
could
now
understand
her
loyalty
to
the
poor
creature
who
stood
in
the
tower.

‘How
did
you
know,
Thomas?’
His
aunt
asked
of
him.

‘Abbey,
I
mean
Miss
Sinclair,
has
heard
you
most
nights
since
her
arrival,’
he
explained.

‘And
how
is
that,
Abigail?’
the
old
lady
directed
at
me,
but
Mrs
Grafton
gave
me
no
chance
to
answer.

‘I
put
her
in
the
room
next
to
the
tower,
hoping
she
would
succumb
to
it
as
the
others
before
her
and
leave.
I’m
sorry,
Mistress,
but
you
don’t
need
anyone
else
when
you
have
me.’

‘Jealousy
is
a
terrible
thing,
Beatrice
Grafton,’
began
Mrs
Kershaw,
then
she
turned
her
attention
to
me.

‘Take
heed
of
my
words,
Abigail,
for
they
will
stand
you
in
good
stead.’
At
her
words
my
mind
flew
to
Alice.
Thomas
took
his
aunt’s
hand
and
led
her
to
Mrs
Grafton.

Before
they
descended
the
stairs
Henrietta
Kershaw
turned
back
and
looking
at
me
said,
‘Value
your
beauty
Abigail
for
one
day
it
will
be
gone.’
With
those
words
Mrs
Grafton
took
her
mistress
back
to
her
room.

I
wept
and
Thomas
gently
laid
my
head
on
his
shoulder
smoothing
my
hair.
I
could
see
our
reflection
in
the
mirror,
we
were
united
and
I
knew
that
I
not
only
loved
him,
but
was
destined
to
be
with
him.