"It's a vast place, this castle."
"There is a great deal of room and we are not now a large family. A place like this is meant to be populated by a large family."
We had come to the top of the staircase and we passed through a gallery. When we emerged from it and were mounting another staircase I recognized where we were.
She opened the door. The room looked different from when I had left it. Now there seemed too many dark shadows; it had become an alien room. The curtains had been drawn across the semicircular window, shutting out the stone alcove with its window seat. The four-poster bed from which the curtains had been looped back seemed to dominate the room.
"Just a moment," said Jenifry, and she lit the candles from the flame in the one she carried. There were already two on the dressing table and two more on the mantelpiece. There is something mysterious about candlelight, and feeling overexcited by the day's" events, I thought: I shall not sleep well tonight. A fatal mood when one is about to retire for the night.
Jenifry was smiling at me.
"I hope you'll be comfortable. You have been told, haven't you, to ring if you want anything." She indicated the red-and-gold bell rope. "That will ring directly to the servants' room and one of them will come immediately."
"I'm sure I have everything I want," I said. I was getting used to the candlelight. "You are all so kind."
She smiled at me, her expression benign as though I were a child and she a friend who was determined to look after me.
I glanced in the mirror and saw myself—rather elegant in the trousseau gown and my eyes unnaturally bright, my cheeks flushed. I looked like a stranger.
Then I caught a glimpse of Jenifry through the looking glass. Her expression had changed. Her face had changed; a different woman was standing there. Her eyes had narrowed; her mouth had hardened; it was as though a mask had slipped and revealed what was underneath. It was not pleasant to look at. I turned sharply. But her face had changed again and she was smiling at me.
"Well, if you are sure you have everything I'll say good night."
"Good night," I said.
She turned at the door to smile at me.
"Sleep well."
The door shut. I stared at it blankly for a moment. My heart was beating unnaturally fast. Then I looked back at the mirror and saw that it was a very old one—a little mottled perhaps—though the frame was heavy gilt and beautifully wrought. It had probably stood there for two hundred years. It was a distorting mirror, but how it had changed her face! Had she really looked like that at me? Speculatively, wondering, evil almost, as though she hated me?
I sat down and took the pins out of my hair. I shook it about my shoulders; it was dark and heavy and came to my waist.
The trouble is, I told myself, I am so used to being unwanted that I can't really believe in all this friendship and that was why I had imagined she looked at me as she did. But for the moment it had been quite terrifying. I brushed my hair thoughtfully and plaited it, trying to relax and get ready for sleep. I drew back the curtains and, mounting the steps, sat down on the window seat. The houses of the Island seemed as though they were sleeping, though here and there a light showed in the darkness; the sea was calm and beautiful, the moon's pathway of light shining clearly on the water. A peaceful scene. How different from my thoughts! Of course I must expect to feel wide awake. So much had happened today. I had met Jago Kellaway and had learned that he was not a complete stranger to me; I had expected to come to a humble house on an island and had found myself in a castle of which this Jago was the proud custodian; I had found my long-lost relations and was going to learn about my family. I wished it was daylight, so impatient was I to go on discovering.
The flickering candlelight was eerie; it threw long shadows about the room. I went to the dressing table and looked in the mirror and as I did so I seemed to see Jenifry's face suddenly distorted into an evil smile. It was all fancy, of course. I was overwrought. Tomorrow I would be laughing at myself, but this was tonight and there were several hours of darkness to be lived through before dawn.
As I looked in the mirror I heard a sudden sound behind me. I was so startled I knocked one of the candles over. Hastily I picked it up, splashing hot grease on my hands as I did so, and swung round, holding the candle high as I looked round the room.
No one was there.
I turned to the door. It was shut. Then I heard the sound again and saw that it was coming from the cupboard. I went to it and laughed aloud in derision at myself for the sound had come from the door, which was not securely fastened.
I opened it. My clothes were hanging up and as I stood there the blue dress which I had worn that evening slid slowly from its hanger and fell in a heap on the floor. I picked it up and in doing so I saw some writing on the wall of the cupboard. It had probably been scraped on the distemper by something with a sharp point.
I pushed aside the clothes and held the candle closer.
I read: "I am a prisoner here. S.K."
I wondered who S.K. was and what was meant by being a prisoner. I guessed it was a child because there was something childish about the lettering and it was the sort of thing a child would scratch on a wall if it had been sent to its room as a punishment.
I set the candle down again on the dressing table. The incident had not made me feel any more sleepy, but I got into the bed, which seemed very large, and I began to think of all the people who had slept in this bed over the last hundred years. S.K. had probably been one of them.
I did not blow out the candles immediately. I wanted to retain a little longer the comforting light they gave me, so I lay looking up at the ceiling with its ornate patterns, which were difficult to make out in the gloom.
Suddenly I was wide awake. I fancied I heard footsteps near my door. I sat up in bed, straining my ears.
You are fanciful tonight, I thought. It's nothing at all. Why don't you lie down and go to sleep?
Esmeralda would say I was "working myself up." In those days I used to make up stories about other people and only if a role was a pleasant one did I imagine myself in it. Now I was finding my imagination could work against me as well as for me.
I slipped out of bed and noticed there was a key in the door. I turned it and now that I had locked myself in it was amazing what comfort I found, so I blew out the candles.
I lay there for some time while scenes from the day's events kept flashing in and out of my head; and finally I was so tired, I suppose, that I slept.
It was inevitable that the dream should come.
There it was as vivid as it had ever been. There was the room with the red curtains, the table, the window seat, the firedogs... the china ornaments. The storm-at-sea picture over the fireplace. I noticed that the wind was blowing the curtains. The door was moving.
Slowly it opened. Now... that awful fear, that certainty that I was in great danger.
I was awake, with the familiar sense of doom upon me. At first I did not know where I was. Then I remembered that I was in the castle on Kellaway's Island.
My heart was racing and I was trembling with fear.
It's only the dream, I soothed myself, but the doom seemed to have come nearer.
Discovery in a Sketchbook
Sunshine filled my room and the terrors of the night had completely disappeared with the coming of daylight.
I rang the bell and Janet came in.
"Have 'ee slept well, Miss Ellen?" she asked.
I said I had finally.
" 'Tis always the same in a new bed," she answered, and went off to get my hot water.