How I wished people had not sown these misgivings in my mind with their sly allusions.
Tabitha conducted me first to our room and left me there to freshen up while she returned to the drawing room with Tybalt. One of the maids brought hot water and when I had washed I went to the window and looked out. The garden had always been chock-a-block with shrubs and the trees made it dark. I could see the spiders' webs on the bushes, glistening where the light caught the globules of moisture as so often I had seen them before at this time of year. The curtains were deep blue edged with gold braid in a Greek key pattern. The bed was large, a fourposter canopied and curtained. The carpet was thick. Bookshelves lined one side of the wall. I looked at these. Some of them I had borrowed and read. They all referred to one subject. It occurred to me that this had been Sir Edward's bedroom before he had left for that fatal journey, and it seemed then that the past was enveloping me. I wished that a different room had been chosen for us. Then I remembered that I was the mistress of the house and if I did not like a room I could say so.
I changed my traveling clothes and went down to the drawing room. Tybalt and Tabitha were sitting side by side on the sofa examining some plans.
As soon as I entered Tabitha jumped up. "Tea will arrive immediately," she said. "I daresay you are ready for it. Traveling is so tiring."
Ellen wheeled the tea wagon in and stood by while Tabitha poured.
Tabitha wanted to know how we had enjoyed the honeymoon and then Tybalt began a long explanation of the Roman site.
"You must have had a very interesting time, Tybalt," said Tabitha smiling. "I trust Judith found it equally so."
She looked at me slightly apprehensively and I assured her that I had enjoyed our stay in Dorset very much.
"And now," said Tybalt, "we must begin to work out our plans in earnest. It's astonishing how the time flies when there is so much to do. I want to leave in February."
So we talked of the trip and it was pleasant sitting there in the firelight while the dark afternoon faded into twilight. I could not help thinking of those occasions when I had dreamed of sharing Tybalt's Life.
"I'm happy," I assured myself. "I've achieved my dream."
My first night in Giza House! One of the maids had lighted a fire in the bedroom and the flickering flames threw their shadows over the walls. How different from those of the Dartmoor cottage; these seemed like sinister shapes which would assume life at any moment. How silent the house was! There was a door behind a blue velvet curtain. I opened this and saw that it led into the room where the sarcophagus had been.
I had entered in advance of Tybalt; and the room in firelight with only two candles burning in their tall candlesticks on the dressing table seemed alive with shadows.
I started to wonder about Sir Edward and his wife who had never lived in this house, for she had died before they came here. And in the attic apartments of this house was Nanny Tester, who would be aware that Tybalt and I had returned from our honeymoon. I wondered what she was doing now and why Tybalt was so long. Was he talking to Tabitha, telling her things which he did not want me to know? What an idea! I must not be jealous of the time he spent with Tabitha.
It's the house, I said to myself. There's something about this house. Something . . . evil. I felt it right from the first before they came here when I used to frighten Theodosia.
Tybalt came into the room, and the sinister shadows receded; the firelight was comforting; the candlelight, I remembered, was becoming.
"What," he asked, "are you doing in that room?"
"I found this door. It's the room where the sarcophagus was."
He laughed. "You weren't thinking of dressing up as a mummy were you ... to frighten me?"
"You . . . frightened of a mummy! I know you love them dearly."
"Not," he replied, "as dearly as I love you."
On the rare occasions when Tybalt said things like that, my happiness was complete.
"Do you like the room I had prepared for you?" asked Tabitha next morning. Tybalt had gone to his study; he had a great deal of correspondence to deal with concerning the expedition.
"It's a bit ghostly," I said.
Tabitha laughed. "My dear Judith, what do you mean?"
"I always thought there was something rather haunted about Giza House."
"It's all those trees and shrubs in the garden, I daresay. That room is the best in the house. That's why I had it made ready for you. It used to be Sir Edward's."
"I guessed it. And the room which leads from it is where the sarcophagus used to be."
"He always used that room for whatever he was working on. He often worked late at night when the fancy took him. Would you like to change the room?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Judith, anything you want you must do, you know. You're mistress of the house now."
"I can't get used to being the mistress of anything."
"You will in time. You're happy, aren't you?"
"I have what I've always wanted."
"Not many of us can say that," she replied with a sigh.
"And you, Tabitha?"
I wished that she would confide in me. I was sure there were secrets in her life. She was youngish—a widow I supposed. Life was by no means over for her and yet there was about her a resignation, a subtle secrecy which was perhaps one of the reasons why she was so attractive.
She said: "I have had my moments. Perhaps one should not ask for more than that."
Yes, there was something decidedly mysterious about Tabitha.
Christmas was not far off. Sabina said we must celebrate Christmas Day at the rectory, and she would insist on my aunts joining us.
I fancied Dorcas and Alison were a little reproachful. They were so conventional. I think they believed I should have gone to them at Rainbow Cottage or they come to me at Giza House.
I swept all that away by pointing out the convenience of Sabina's suggestion and what fun it would be to be back in the old drawing room where so many of our Christmases had been celebrated.
The days were passing swiftly. There was Christmas to think of and always, of course, the expedition. Tabitha and I decorated the house with holly and mistletoe.
"It was something we never did before," said Tabitha.
The maids were delighted. Ellen told me that it was more like a house since I'd come home. That was a compliment indeed.
They liked me, those maids; they seemed to take a pleasure in addressing me as "my lady." It invariably startled me, and sometimes I had to assure myself: Yes, it's true. You're not dreaming this time. This is the greatest dream of all come true.
It was at the beginning of December when the first uneasy situation occurred.
I had never quite understood Mustapha and Absalam. In fact they made me uncomfortable. I would be in a room and suddenly find them standing close behind me—for they seemed to move about together—having been completely unaware of their approach. I often looked up suddenly to find their dark eyes fixed upon me. Sometimes I would think they were about to speak to me; but then they seemed to change their minds. I was never quite sure which one was which and I believe I often addressed them wrongly. Tabitha could easily tell the difference but then she had known them for a very long time.
It was afternoon—that hour when dusk was beginning to fall. I had gone to our bedroom and on my way saw that the door which led from the corridor into that room which I called the Sarcophagus Room was ajar. I thought perhaps Tybalt was there, so I looked in. Mustapha, or was it Absalam, was standing silhouetted against the window.
I went in and as I did so, the other Egyptian was standing behind me . . . between me and the door.
I felt the goosepimples rise on my skin. I was unsure why.