Voices in a Haunted Room

I wondered whether I was imagining that certain slyness, this harbouring of secret knowledge, because in my childhood I had thought of her as the witch. When she spoke of Jonathan and Dickon there was a note in her voice which seemed to suggest that she knew them very well indeed and was greatly amused by them.

I had a great desire to get away; she was depressing me. I wondered if she had the same effect on David. I caught his eye and tried to indicate that we should finish the wine and get out. There was something claustrophobic about Grasslands.

Mrs. Trent cocked her head as though listening. Then she called out: “I can see you ... peeping in. Come and meet the happy pair.”

The two girls came in. They were dressed in riding habits. Evie looked very pretty, which made the contrast with her sister very noticeable.

“You know my Evie and Dolly,” said Mrs. Trent. She looked at Evie with pride, and I immediately felt sorry for Dolly, who hung back a little, for I guessed she was very much aware of her deformity.

The girls dropped a curtsy, and Mrs. Trent went on: “They think it’s lovely ...

you, Miss Claudine, and Mr. David, don’t you, girls?”

They nodded.

“Where’s your tongues?” demanded Mrs. Trent. “Haven’t you got something to say?”

“Congratulations, Miss de Tourville and Mr. Frenshaw,” said Evie.

“Thanks,” we replied simultaneously and David went on: “I saw you riding the other day. I must say you manage your horses well.”

“Oh yes,” said Mrs. Trent, “I’ve had them brought up in the right way, both of them.

I was determined my girls should be as good as anyone else.”

“I’m sure you succeeded, Mrs. Trent,” I said. “I do agree about the wine being especially good this year. Thanks for letting us try it, and now I think we really ought to be going, don’t you, David?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “There is so much to do round the estate.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Mrs. Trent. “In my own little way, of course. Grasslands is no Eversleigh, but my goodness there’s enough to keep us busy. It was very gracious of you to call. We do appreciate that, don’t we, girls?”

Evie said: “Oh yes, we do.”

“And I’ll come and dance at your wedding. You girls will have to wait a bit for yours.

But I’ve a feeling Evie won’t have so long. Well, we’ll see.”

We rose and thanked her for the wine, and she came out with us to our horses. Evie and Dolly came with her and stood looking at us while we mounted.

Mrs. Trent slapped the flanks of my horse affectionately.

“I’ll be at the wedding,” she said. “I have a special interest in your family.”

I don’t know why it was-perhaps because of the mood she aroused in me-but I thought the words sounded ominous.

As we rode away, David said: “She is rather ill-bred, but I don’t think she means any harm.”

So he must have felt the same as I did. I agreed that she was ill-bred, but I was not so sure of the harm; but my apprehension did seem rather foolish so I pressed my horse into a gallop. I felt I wanted to put a distance between myself and Grasslands.

We slowed down as we came to the road. “They must have been at Grasslands for a long time,” I said.

“Well, Mrs. Trent went there as housekeeper, and married old Andrew Mather.”

“Yes, I heard that. The girls’ father was her son.”

“Yes, by her first husband. He managed the estate very well until his death. Now she has quite a good manager.”

“Grasslands is very different from that other house ... Enderby.”

“Very. Always was. It’s odd about Enderby.”

“Do you believe that houses have an effect on people? They do say that Enderby is unlucky.”

David laughed. “How can a house be? It’s only bricks or stone. They can’t change luck, can they?”

“Let’s go and look at the old place. Just a glimpse. It’s up this way, isn’t it?”

I turned off the road and David followed me. As we rounded a bend, there was the old house. I have to admit that even hi broad daylight it sent a shiver through me.

It looked dark and menacing, as neglected houses will sometimes. The shrubs about it were thick and untended.

“It looks very dejected,” said David.

“And at the same time defiant,” I replied.

He laughed. “Can a house look so?”

“Enderby does. Come on. I want a close look. Do you think anyone will ever buy it?”

“Not in the state it’s in. It’s been empty for years. Because of its reputation probably.”

“David, I want to look closer.”

“Hasn’t Grasslands been enough for one morning?”

“Perhaps because of Grasslands.”

He looked at me puzzled. Then he smiled and said: “All right. Let’s go.”

We tethered our horses to the post which was set there conveniently for the use of visitors and went to the front door. It was silent, eerie. There was a rusty bell which I pulled, and we stood listening to the jangling which echoed through the house.

“No use ringing the bell,” said David. “Whom do you expect to answer it?”

“Ghosts,” I said. “People who have lived in the house and can’t rest because of their sins. Wasn’t there a murder here once?”

“If there was it’s ancient history.”

“It’s ancient history that makes ghosts.”