The Song of the Siren

“Priscilla,” said my father, “take Damaris up and look after her. I’ll see to our guests.”

I went upstairs with my mother. The cloak was taken away and given to one of the servants to burn. I washed all over in warm water and dressed myself while I told my mother exactly what had happened.

“Oh, darling,” she said, “you shouldn’t have gone out on your own.”

“I know, but I only meant to go to the top of the street and buy you violets.”

“When I think of what could have happened. That wicked woman ...”

“She wasn’t so very wicked, mother. She called herself Good Mrs. Brown. She didn’t hurt me. She only wanted my clothes and my money.”

“It is monstrous,” said my mother.

“But she was poor and it was her way of getting something to eat, she said.”

“My dear, you are such a child. Perhaps you should rest now.”

“I don’t want to rest, mother, and I think I should go down and thank the people who brought me home.”

My mother stiffened in a strange way.

“Who are these people?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I was running along and fell into them. I went sprawling on the ground and they picked me up. They knew this was Eversleigh House, and when I told them it was my home they insisted on bringing me.”

“Very well,” she said, “let’s go down.”

My father was in the drawing room with them and they were drinking wine. They were still talking about the rogues who invaded London at a time like this. My grandfather and grandmother had joined them. They had not been aware that I had disappeared and had listened with horror to what had befallen me.

My grandmother rose up when I entered and embraced me with fervour, but the way my grandfather looked at me implied that he had never had much respect for my intelligence and had even less now.

My father said: “This is the strangest coincidence. This lady is Mistress Elizabeth Pilkington, who once thought of taking Enderby Hall.”

“Yes, and I was very disappointed when I heard that it was no longer for sale.”

“A caprice of my granddaughter’s,” said my grandfather with a curl of his lips. “The house belongs to her. It’s a mistake to give women power over property. I’ve always said it.”

“You have always nourished a feud against the opposite sex,” said my grandmother.

“It didn’t prevent my snaring you into matrimony,” he countered.

“I married you to show you how you underestimated us,” she countered.

“Alas,” he retorted, “my opinions do not seem to have changed ^after ... how many years is it?”

They were always like that together; it was a constant sparring match and yet their devotion to each other kept showing itself; and they were as happily married as were my parents. They merely had a different way of showing it.

“Speaking of houses,” said my grandmother, “although Enderby Hall still stands empty, there is another in the district. Neighbours of ours-of whom we were very fond-are going away.”

“Yes,” said my grandfather, “there is Grasslands Manor.”

“Are you still looking for a place in the country?” asked my mother.

“My mother is very interested in that part of the country,” said Matthew Pilkington.

A faint colour had appeared in Elizabeth Pilkington’s cheeks. She said, “Yes, I might like to take a look at this Grasslands Manor.”

“Any time which is convenient to you we shall be pleased to see you at Eversleigh,” my grandmother told her.

“It is so bracing there, I believe,” said Matthew.

“If you mean the east wind favours us with its presence very frequently, yes,” said my grandfather. ‘

“An interesting spot, though,” said Elizabeth.

”Roman country, I believe,” added Matthew.

“Yes, there are some fine specimens of Roman remains,” put in my grandfather. “Well, we’re not far from Dover and there is the old Pharos there ... the oldest in England.”

“You must go and look at this Grasslands Manor,” said Matthew Pilkington.

“Oh, I will,” replied his mother.

They took their leave soon after that. They had a house in London close by, they said, and hoped we should meet again before we left for the country.

“Unfortunately we shall be returning the day after tomorrow,” said my mother.

I looked at her sharply because we had made no arrangements so far.

My grandmother was about to speak but my grandfather threw a warning look in her direction. I felt there was something going on which was a secret to me.

“Well, I shall be down to look at this Grasslands place, I daresay,” said Elizabeth Pilkington.

When they had left I was plied with questions. What had possessed me to go out on my own? I had been warned often. I must never never do it again.

“Don’t worry,” I assured them. “I won’t.”

“To think how easily it could happen,” cried my mother. “And what might have happened.

As it is there’s that beautiful new cloak and dress... .”

“Oh, I am so sorry. I have been so foolish... .”

My mother put her arm about me. “My dear child,” she said, “if it has taught you a lesson it was worth it. Thank God you came safely back.”

“It was good of the Pilkingtons to bring her back,” said my grandmother.

“I rushed into them. I was almost home then,” I said.