Voices in a Haunted Room

I know you are very fond of me ... in a special way. It is just that I offend certain codes which you have been brought up to observe. Believe me, it is merely a matter of how one interprets the rules.”

“Surely there must be only one interpretation of right and wrong.”

in the course of “That is the superficial view, dear Claudine. There are shades of right and shades of wrong, and it depends entirely on the angle from which you study these matters.”

“You have a talent for talking round a subject, trying to hypnotise your listeners so that after a while they begin to wonder whether black is really black and white white.”

“Is that so? Then it is yet another of my talents. Isn’t this fun ... you and I here together, talking, actually talking! For so long you would scarcely speak to me.”

“We said we would not refer to that time.”

“It is you who insist on veering towards it.”

“Tell me then, how often do you come out here your duty?”

He considered. “Once a month, shall we say?”

“And the obliging Matty and Thomas keep a check on their customers. They listen to their conversations and report what they think might be of interest.”

“Now we are getting into deep waters.”

“Secret matters. I wish I knew what you were involved in.”

“Do you worry about me?”

“I try not to think of you.”

“That is rather unkind.”

“It’s very wise really.”

He looked at me steadily, his eyes a burning blue. “I understand. In your view it would be unwise to think of me.”

“I want to forget,” I said. “And why are we talking like this?”

“You have brought us back to it again. It must be very much in your mind.”

I stood up and walked round the room, examining the brasses.

“Thomas has some very fine stables,” he said. “This is a typical coaching inn. I’ll show you round after we’ve eaten.”

There were some old hunting prints on the walls; he walked round explaining what they represented and while he was doing this Matty came in with the soup.

“There,” she said, “that will warm you before you get down to the cold. I’ve always got a cauldron of soup. People ask for it again and again.”

The pease soup was delicious and so was the roast beef, garnished with herbs, served with hot crusty bread and a fruit pie to follow.

I sat back, drowsily content. Jonathan watched me closely.

”You agree that I have brought you to a worthy inn?”

“It was a very good meal.”

“Imagine what Matty would have done if she had known we were coming!”

“It could not have been better.”

“Oh, you don’t know Matty.”

We complimented her while she cleared away and Jonathan said we would rest awhile before resuming our journey.

I felt very happy. I knew I shouldn’t be, but Jonathan had that certain effect on me. It was a kind of bewitchment. There were warning voices in my mind, reminding me what could easily happen again. It must not be.

I kept telling myself that my being here was not of my contriving. Excuses come glibly when one has need of them.

I just knew that I wanted this to go on. I had never felt the same with anyone else.

Never with anyone had I felt the desire to catch at time and hold it, making moments last for ever.

He talked about London, how he would be there more and more, for his father was gradually relinquishing the London business to him.

“It was a good thing,” he said, “that there were two of us ... and so different.

David the countryman; myself the townsman.”

“I think your father arranged it.”

“Would even he be clever enough for that?”

“He always seemed to get what he wanted.”

“A trait I sincerely hope he has passed on to his son.”

“I think there is no doubt that you have inherited a little of that spirit.”

“A little? I was hoping it was a great deal.”

“Well, you are young yet. I don’t suppose that when he was your age everything fell quite so neatly into Dickon’s hands. For one thing, he wanted my mother and he didn’t get her, did he, until later.”

“But in the end he did.”

“Only after years ...”

“And thank Heaven it worked out that way or where should you and I be today, somewhere in the region of the unborn ... if there is such a place.” He stood up. “Let’s go. We’ll ride along by the river. There are some pretty spots. That is what is so delightful about London. It is teeming with Ufe ... yet in a short time you can be out in the heart of the country.”

What a perfect afternoon that was! We said our goodbyes to Matty and Thomas, complimenting them on the excellent meal, inspected the stables, mounted our refreshed horses and set out.

About a mile from the inn we came to a grassy bank and Jonathan suggested that we tether the horses to a nearby bush and sit down to watch the river. A few craft passed ... one or two returning home after having been in the city for the celebrations.

Contentment ... forgetting all evil ... sitting on the grass idly watching the ripples in the water ... looking up as the occasional vessel floated by.

Suddenly Jonathan said: “We should have married, Claudine, you and I.”