Voices in a Haunted Room

I stood up and thanked them all for their good wishes and proposed the toast to our guests. When it was drunk we sat down and the conversation was all about the revolution and how terrible it must be for those aristocrats who went in fear of the mob and had to flee their country.

“So many are getting out,” said Jonathan. “There are émigrés all over Europe.”

“We shall insist that they put the King back on his throne,” said Lady Pettigrew, as though it were as simple a matter as finding the right husband for Millicent.

“That might be rather difficult, considering he has lost his head,” Jonathan pointed out.

“I mean the new one. Isn’t there a little Dauphin ... King now, of course.”

“Young, very young,” said Jonathan.

“Young men grow up,” retorted Lady Pettigrew.

“A statement of such undeniable truth that I cannot challenge it,” went on Jonathan.

I felt laughter bubbling up within me in spite of the subject. Jonathan always amused me, and I imagined his being married to Millicent and having a lifetime of verbal fencing with his mother-in-law. Almost immediately I was appalled by the thought of his marrying Millicent. I could not imagine her in a gondola listening to Italian love songs. Nor did I want to think of her in such a situation.

Chariot and Louis Charles did not immediately return. I guessed they were with the new arrivals. It was much later when we were dancing in the hall that they joined the company.

I danced with Jonathan, which was exciting, and I danced with David, which was pleasant, though neither of them danced well. My brother Chariot danced far better. They paid more attention to such matters in France.

I sought out Chariot and asked about the visitors.

He said: “They are in such a sad state. They could not face all those people. So your mother took them into the solarium while fires were lighted in their bedrooms and the warming pans put in the beds. There they were given food and as soon as the rooms were ready they went to bed.”

”Who are they?”

“Monsieur and Madam Lebrun; their son and his wife and the son’s daughter.”

“Quite a party.”

“They have had some hair-raising adventures. They almost did not get away. Do you remember them?”

“Vaguely.”

“They had that big estate not far from Amiens. They had left their chateau some time ago and had been living quietly in the heart of the country with an old servant.

But they were discovered and flight became necessary. They have been helped by some.

There are a few worthy people left.”

Poor Chariot! He was deeply moved.

The party was over and the guests had left, except those who were staying the night.

I lay in my bed, too tired to sleep. It had been an exhilarating evening and everything had worked out as smoothly as my mother had planned-except for the untimely arrival of the Lebruns. And even that had been handled with the utmost discretion.

I had come to a turning point in my life. There would be pressure on me now to make up my mind. David ... or Jonathan? What an extraordinary choice for a girl to have to make. I began to wonder how much they loved me. Was it because of who I was, or because it had been expected and was what the family hoped would happen? I had a notion that they had been cleverly manoeuvred towards this situation.

Jonathan undoubtedly wanted to make love to me. But he might have had the same feelings for a milkmaid or any of the servants. It was because of who I was that he wanted marriage.

And David? No, David’s affection was solid. It was for me only, and when he offered marriage it was for the sake of true love.

David ... Jonathan! If I were wise it would be David; and yet I had a feeling that I should always hanker for Jonathan.

I should have to decide ... but not tonight. I was too tired.

I slept late next morning, for my mother had given instructions that I was not to be awakened. When I went downstairs most of the overnight guests had left, and those who had not were on the point of doing so.

I said my farewells and when we stood waving to the departing guests I asked about the French people.

“They are sleeping,” said my mother. “They are quite exhausted.

Madeleine and Gaston Lebrun are too old for this sort of thing. How sad at their age to be driven out of their country.”

“Worse still to be driven off the earth.”

She shivered. I knew all this had brought back to her mind that terrifying experience when she herself had come close to death at the hands of the mob. She understood as none of us could-except perhaps Dickon, and he would always be certain that he was going to get the better of whoever attacked him-the horror of what they called the Terror in France.

“We must do all we can to help,” she said. “They have family connections over here north of London and when they are sufficiently rested they will go to them. Dickon is sending a message to them today to tell them that the Lebruns have safely arrived in England and are staying with us for a few days. He will help them make the journey.