Voices in a Haunted Room

I can make no excuses. I went into the next betrayal eagerly. We had the key of the house. We knew when no one would be there, and we went again to that room and made frenzied love, and it seemed to me more excruciatingly exciting the second time than the first.

Then my remorse returned. I was weighed down by my guilt. It was even heavier than before because I could not now tell myself that I had been trapped into the situation.

I had gone willingly. I had clung to him; I had shared his impatience and his ecstasy.

I had admitted that I loved him, that I had made a bitter mistake. I was a wicked and abandoned woman and, during the height of my passion, I revelled in my abandonment.

There was no excuse for me. I was wanton. I had deliberately deceived my husband.

Jonathan felt no such guilt, although he was betraying his own brother. He said fatalistically: “It had to happen. It was meant.”

Afterwards I felt angry-mainly with myself. I was aghast at my own behaviour. I suffered anguish when I was with David, who was so kind always. I felt irritated with him merely because of his kindness, for his goodness only accentuated my depravity.

I wished that I could confide hi my mother. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to know why I-who previously had always had a sense of honour, a sense of duty-could behave so.

We must get away, I decided. Jonathan must go away. We could not continue to live like this under the same roof.

As we walked back to the house Jonathan said: “Tomorrow?”

“No,” I cried. “It must never happen again.”

But he only smiled at me, and I knew as well as he did that it would.

I was shocked, too, to find that I did not have such difficulty in behaving normally as I had done on the first occasion. I did not go to bed pleading a headache. I went down to dinner and we all sat round the table, talking, laughing, making Christmas plans-myself as merry as any of them outwardly, and it was only when I glanced across the table and caught Jonathan’s blue eyes on me, and I looked sideways at David, that the terrible sense of remorse overcame me.

The Pettigrews arrived the day before Christmas Eve. Their carriage was very grand with the Pettigrew crest prominently engraved on it and Lady Pettigrew at least was eager that everyone should be aware of their importance. Lord Pettigrew was much quieter than his wife. No one would have believed that all her glory came through him. He held a post at Court which I imagined was so arduous that when he was in the heart of his family he was ready to agree to anything for the sake of peace.

The Honourable Millicent was a handsome young woman who looked as if she had a will of her own, and I imagined that she and her mother were a formidable pair who managed to get what they wanted.

It became obvious that what they wanted was Jonathan as a prospective husband for Millicent. I was acutely aware of anything connected with Jonathan and now suffered twinges of jealousy. Jonathan would be a match which would be highly approved of by Lady Pettigrew. Dickon was not only an extremely wealthy man but an influential one. Yes, I could see that Lady Pettigrew and Millicent had selected Jonathan for his role.

I mentioned it to my mother. She laughed and said: “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me.

I think Dickon would be quite pleased. He’s very friendly with Lord Pettigrew. They have a great deal in common ... in the City. Mind you, Lady Pettigrew is rather a forceful lady and I am not sure that Millicent doesn’t take after her. But I think Jonathan would be able to handle that. Is anything wrong?”

“No.... What makes you think so?”

“I thought you looked a little depressed. Not tired are you?”

She was looking at me anxiously and the colour flooded my face. She thinks I might be pregnant! I told myself. Then suddenly the thought of what this could mean if I were swept over me.

“It’s all right,” I said firmly. “I’m perfectly normal.” She patted my arm lightly. “Well, Christmas comes but once a year, and sometimes I’m heartily glad of that.”

Each day I was realizing more and more what a web I was being caught up in. My jealousy of Millicent, my sudden fear that I might have a child and should have to ask myself whose, brought home to me ever more strongly the seriousness of my predicament.

It must stop. I must never, never give way to my emotions again. I would get over this obsession. I would be a good wife to David and I would attempt to wipe this sordid incident right out of my mind.

The next day the Farringdons came. They were very charming people - Gwendoline, John and their son, Harry. Harry was in his mid-twenties, very good-looking. He helped his father run their estate, which I learned was the same size as Eversleigh.

In the early afternoon of Christmas Eve a party of the younger people went for a ride. There was David, Jonathan, Harry Farringdon, Millicent Pettigrew and myself.