Gossamer Cord

They were ordinary letters. Then one came which was different. Because it was a long letter, I took it to my bedroom so that I might enjoy it without interruptions.

“Dear Vee,” she had written.

“How are you? I wish you were here. It would be lovely to talk, and there is no one to whom I can talk as I can to you.”

I felt a quiver of alarm at that. It must mean that all was not going well. Why could she not talk to her husband?

This is a strange place. It is not like home. It makes you feel there is something in the air. The sea makes strange noises at night. I don’t think I shall ever get used to it. Matilda is very good. She manages everything. I never interfere with that. I am not interested and I would not want to face that old dragon of a cook every morning to discuss the meals. These servants are not cosy like ours. I suppose that’s because ours have known us for years.

Vee, I don’t know how to describe this to you. But…this house …I can’t get used to it. It was all right when you were all here. It felt different then, like home, with you and the parents…and all that. You made it feel…normal. It’s different now. I feel people are watching me. They aren’t really. It’s just a feeling I have. The eyes in the people in the portrait gallery…they follow me, stare at me, and it seems as if they change when I’m looking at them. They are laughing at me, sneering…some of them look as if they are warning me.

This is silly, of course. I think it is because I don’t fit.

Dermot is wonderful. He is very kind and gentle, all that I thought he was in the beginning. It’s the others I don’t understand…I mean the old man and Gordon. The old man seems amused by something…by me, I think. Gordon, well, he’s alert in a way. The old man is always telling me how pretty I am and how he likes to see me there. He likes me to sit close to him and keeps patting my hand. It’s welcoming in a way and yet somehow it seems as though he is laughing at me. But not only me, at the others as well. As for Gordon, he’s working most of the time. He doesn’t say very much, but I get the impression that he would rather I wasn’t here.

Matilda is kind. I believe she knows how I am feeling. She said to me the other day: “You are finding it hard to fit in, aren’t you, Dorabella?” I hesitated. It seemed rather rude to agree, but it’s the truth.

She said: “It’s strange no doubt. It must be so different from your home.”

I told her the house was not so different. We lived in an old house and there is a similarity about old houses. No, it wasn’t the house.

“It must be the people,” she said.

I assured her it was not. Everyone

had been kind to me.

“Of course they have,” she said. “It is your family now, your home. I think you miss your sister. You were always together, I suppose.”

I told her yes, we had been, and she said she understood absolutely and it would all come right. I try to keep feeling that it will, but it isn’t the same, Vee.

I think I have been trying to work up to this. It shocked me very much when I heard. Don’t tell the parents yet, not until I say you may. I don’t know what they’ll think. I know it will be that we ought to have heard of it before. I don’t know whether it would have made any difference. I don’t think it would. I should still have wanted to marry Dermot.

The fact is, Vee, Dermot was married before!

I paused. Married before! That was what was upsetting her. Why hadn’t he said so? Now I understood all this about the portraits watching her. I guessed she was very shaken.

Yes, he was married before. She died. It was two years before we met. He confessed it to me one night. I can tell you it was a shock. He said, why should it be? It didn’t make any difference to us. He was young and impetuous and had rushed into it. It was different from what had happened to us. There had never been anyone like me, he said. It was rather strange, really. There was that story about the feud…do you remember? That man Jermyn told you. I haven’t seen anything of him, by the way. I heard someone say in one of the shops that he was abroad somewhere. Well, Dermot’s wife was drowned. She went out to swim and there were crosscurrents or something…and she ought not to have gone. Her body was washed up some days later, on the beach right in front of the house. It was odd, after what happened to that girl in the feud. She drowned herself of her own accord. It revived it all. Dermot said it was all very distressing. He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to forget, which was why he couldn’t bear to bring it up. I suppose the sea being so near made it easy for the Jermyn girl. And then, of course, Dermot’s wife…her name was Annette. It’s rather pretty and feminine.

I was ever so shocked when I heard. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” I kept asking Dermot. He said he thought it might have made a difference. Well, it would have in a way. He always seemed so young and carefree. He didn’t seem like a man who had had a wife who had died like that.