Poor little Magdalen, who had been so frightened of the trials of childbirth. I shouldn’t be like that, I knew, for if only I could have a dear little baby everything would be worthwhile. After all, the best things in life had to be worked for, suffered for.
I found a great pleasure in being out of doors. On warm days I would take my canvas and sit in the pond garden. It was rather amusing to sit there in the very surrounding which I was stitching on to my canvas. I would wander around a good deal. I watched the flowers opening in the enclosed gardens and it occurred to me that I might bring in some of my own ideas. Perhaps I should tell Richard what I would like to do before consulting with the gardeners. However, there was no harm in making plans.
I found my footsteps led me often in the direction of the castle, but the high wall made it impossible to see it at close quarters, although I knew, from the Castle Room view, that surrounding the building was a thick growth of fir trees forming themselves into a little wood.
I wondered a great deal about it and what it was like inside. I imagined a tiny guardroom, suits of armour, a little keep, spiral staircases—Castle Paling in miniature.
The fir trees grew thick on both sides of the wall. Some of them could have been quite young trees planted perhaps when the wall was built. They were of the cupressus variety, the kind which grows very quickly and in a few years a little sprig becomes a bushy tree. The thought occurred to me that they might have been chosen for that purpose.
The more I thought of it the more strange it seemed. Of course, I thought, Richard is fully occupied with his military career. He doesn’t want the nuisance of having workmen here pulling down the castle. It would be a major undertaking. That was why he left it, and because it had been neglected for some years it probably was dangerous. But why build a wall around it?
I could not keep my thoughts from it. It was the first thing I looked at when I went to the Castle Room, and when I explored the gardens again and again it seemed my steps almost involuntarily led me there.
One day when I was walking through the trees close to the wall I felt suddenly alert, for I sensed that someone was near me in the copse. I didn’t know why that should startle me so much, for one of the servants might easily be there. But why should they be there? They might ask why should I. I was there because I was naturally curious about anything that concerned my new home and my husband, and I could not quite reconcile myself to the explanation he had given me of this mysterious castle.
I listened. The swish of a branch as someone brushed it aside; the dislodgement of a stone; the startled scurry of a rabbit or some such animal; but most of all the awareness of a presence. Someone was watching me. Perhaps someone who had seen me come here before and was alarmed by my curiosity?
I was going to find out.
I went forward quickly, then paused to listen.
Yes, there was the unmistakable sound of retreating footsteps.
‘Who’s there?’ I called.
There was no answer. And then … through the trees I saw a face. It was there and it was gone. Whoever it belonged to must have been hiding behind one of the trees and I had just caught him peering out.
It was a face though that, once seen, would not be easily forgotten. The dark hair grew low on the forehead and the bushy eyebrows were jet black; the face was very pale—unusually so—and there was a vivid birthmark on the left cheek.
It was the sort of face that could be a little startling and especially disembodied, as it were, for the tree hid the rest of him.
‘Who are you?’ I cried.
But the face disappeared, and for a few moments I could do nothing but stand there because I was more than a little startled by what I had seen.
Then I went on through the woods, calling to whoever it was to stop. But there was no response. I went through the trees until I came to the wall surrounding the castle. It was the first time I had approached it from this direction and that was how I discovered the door in the wall. I stood for a moment examining it, looking, furtively I must admit, over my shoulder, expecting at any moment to see that rather unearthly apparition. A door in the wall! There was an arch which betrayed it, for the wall at this point was covered with creeper which festooned over it, almost obscuring the door. I pushed aside the creeper and examined it closely. There was a keyhole which would take a large key. I lay against the door and pushed it. It was fast locked.
It was very strange, and as I stood there a sense of apprehension came over me. I felt alone suddenly and very isolated from the household of Far Flamstead. I kept thinking of that face which had looked at me through the trees, the strange expression of the eyes. They had not been threatening, far from it. They had seemed almost afraid of me, which was perhaps why I had somewhat recklessly followed.
But now I felt a great urge to get out of the copse. I started to run and did not stop until I was through the trees and in the clear.
I was quite breathless, and the first person I saw was Mrs Cherry. She was coming out of the herb garden carrying some leaves and sprigs in her apron which she must just have gathered.
‘Why, you look startled, my lady,’ she said.
‘I … I just saw someone in the copse.’
‘In the copse, my lady?’
‘Yes, the one by the castle wall.’
‘Oh?’ Her round eyes seemed to have taken on an alert look. ‘Trespassers then … ’
‘It was a man with dark hair and brows and there was some birthmark on his cheek.’
She hesitated for a few seconds, her brows drawn together while she looked down at the grass. Then she lifted her face and was smiling. ‘Oh, that would be Strawberry John. So he were there, were he? He’d no right, the rascal.’
‘Strawberry John. What’s that?’
‘He have this mark on his cheek like. In strawberry season it comes up just like a strawberry. They say his mother had a terrible fancy for strawberries when she were carrying him and he were born with it … right on his cheek, it is, so you can’t fail to see it. He makes a bit by poaching where he shouldn’t, if you get my meaning. Yes, I know Strawberry John.’
‘I called out and he didn’t answer. He ran.’
‘He knew he’d no right to be in them woods, that’s what. Why, you look really scared. There’s nothing to fear from Strawberry John.’
I had explored the gardens and I wanted to go farther afield. I knew that I was supposed not to go riding beyond the paddock, but I was thinking a great deal about Bersaba, who had often gone out riding alone, so I decided I could come to no harm and one day I set out.
I took a different route from the one I had taken with Richard, and rode on through pleasant lanes for about three miles when I came to a farmhouse. It was large and comfortable-looking with stone walls and a tiled roof. Close by were several small cottages and they all seemed part of the farm estate.
I approached with interest, for it struck me that the owners of the farm must be our nearest neighbours. As I stood there a woman came out of the house, went to the well to draw water and, seeing me on horseback, she called a greeting.
There was something familiar about her and she certainly noticed the same about me, for she approached, looking at me curiously.
Then I recognized her. She was Ella Longridge, the sister of the man whom Richard had challenged to a duel.
‘Why,’ she cried, ‘we have met before.’
‘You are Mistress Longridge, I believe.’
‘And you are the new mistress of Far Flamstead. We met at a ball …’
‘I remember it well. You and your brother were together there, and there was an unfortunate incident.’