Saraband for Two Sisters

I went to the window and stood there. He was beside me and I sensed his apprehension. I knew then that he had not been going to show me this room. The same sort of uneasiness which had enveloped me in the chapel returned to me. From the window there was a better view of the castle than I had seen anywhere else. The walls looked almost white in the sunshine. It was indeed a high wall which surrounded it, and of course this room would be called the Castle Room because it was high up and gave a good view of the miniature battlements.

“It was a pity that high wall was built,” I said. “It looks not so old as the castle.”

“How observant you are. How can you tell?”

“It just looks newer. When was it built?”

He hesitated. “Oh... er, about ten years ago.”

“Then you built it!”

“Yes, I ordered it to be built.”

“Whatever for?”

“Perhaps I wanted to shut out the Folly.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to pull it down ... particularly as it’s crumbling and you don’t like it?”

“Did I say I didn’t like it?”

“You implied it... calling it a Folly and all that.”

“It was not I who called it a Folly. It was called that before I was born.»

“I suppose you didn’t like to pull down what your ancestor had taken such pains to build, so you had the wall made to shut it out to a certain extent and prevent people’s going there as it might be dangerous.”

“Yes,” he said, “that’s so.” Then, deliberately, he turned me away from the window. He had a rather curt way of conveying that he wished a subject closed and I was learning to take his hints. My husband was a man who expected unquestioning obedience. As a commanding soldier I supposed that was natural.

I began to examine the room. I said, “It has a lived-in look.”

“A lived-in look! What do you mean by that? It’s rarely used.”

“Then I’m wrong. What is kept in the court cupboard?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shall we see?”

“Oh, come, there are more interesting things to look at. I want to take you up to the roof.”

“The roof. That sounds exciting.”

He shut the door of the Castle Room firmly and led me to the newel stairs. The air was warm yet fresh. I stood up there breathing it in with relish. I could see over the gardens to the wooded hills and beyond a house in the distance. I examined the detailed ornamentation of the turrets and looked for the Folly, but I could not see it from this side of the house.

On the way down we passed through the long gallery and I paused to examine the portraits.

There was a fine one of Richard himself and next to him the portrait of a young woman.

I knew without asking that she was his first wife, and I could not help a great curiosity. She was pretty and very young, even younger than I was. Her pretty fair hair was dressed high above her head, which made her face look small; she had large appealing blue eyes. There was an expression in her face which fascinated me. It was almost as though she were pleading to be helped, as though she were afraid of something. Richard said, “Yes, that’s Magdalen.”

“Magdalen,” I repeated.

“My first wife.”

‘Was she very young when she died?”

“Nineteen.”

I had the same uneasy feeling that had assailed me before. I suppose I couldn’t help imagining that girl with him and I knew I should go on doing so. “Was she very ill?”

“She died in childbirth.”

“So there was a child.”

“It was a double tragedy.”

Again that secret command: We shall not talk of this.

“Well,” I thought. “I understand that.” He then led me down to the outhouses, and I saw what a fine stable he kept. He showed me the bolting house, the washing house, and the winery. I was aware that I had become mistress of a fine establishment “I said I shall write and tell my sister and my mother all about my new home.»

“You must do that,” he said.

“And when my sister is well they must come and visit me.’* “Indeed they must,” he answered warmly and I was happy contemplating their arrival.

“How proud I shall be to show them everything,” I said.

He pressed my arm, well pleased.

That afternoon we went riding, for he wished to show me the countryside. He did not have a large estate, as the family land was in Cumberland and Far Flamstead was merely a soldier’s country house. The grounds were extensive enough, consisting of the gardens, the paddocks, and the copse of fir trees.

We supped together as we had on the previous night and as before we shared the velvet curtained bed.