“That’s right,” he said, and smiled at her in a manner which I could only call tender. It surprised me very much, for I had never seen him look quite like that before. I was continually being surprised by him.
He is very fond of her, I thought. But then, of course, she had been his nanny after Flora became ill.
Now he was looking at me.
“I dare say your aunt is expecting you home by now,” he said.
“Yes, she will be,” I said reluctantly.
“Well, goodbye, and thank you for all you have done.”
It was a kind of dismissal, but I was glowing with pleasure as I ran home.
I could not resist going to the House of the Seven Magpies. It was two days later. Flora was sitting in her usual place in the garden, the doll’s pram beside her. I called over the wall and she welcomed me with a smile.
“How is … he … this afternoon?” I asked tentatively.
“Sleeping nicely. The little monkey woke me up at five this morning. There he was, gurgling and chuckling to himself … once he’d wakened me, of course.”
I went over and looked down at the doll. The clothes and cutting of the hair had helped a good deal, but I was surprised she did not appear to have noticed the difference.
“He looks as well as ever,” I said cautiously.
A shadow came over her face.
“There was a nightmare,” she said, her lips beginning to tremble.
“A nightmare,” I said.
“Then don’t talk of that. They are best forgotten.”
“It’s all right.” She looked at me appealingly.
“I didn’t, did I? I held him tight, didn’t I? I couldn’t have let my baby come to any harm . not for the world.”
“No, of course not, and he is perfectly all right. You only have to look at him …” I stopped myself. That was not the right thing to say.
She was staring at the mulberry bush.
“It was a night mare, wasn’t it?” she said appealingly.
“That was all.”
“Of course it was,” I reassured her.
“We all have night mares at some times, you know.”
I was thinking of those awful moments in the wood before Crispin came . and after.
“You too?” she said.
“But you weren’t there.”
I wondered what she meant. I had been there when she dropped the doll; but I thought it best to agree with her.
I said: “It’s all right. Just look at him. There’s nothing wrong with him.”
“No,” she murmured.
“Nothing wrong. He’s here … he’s been here all the time.”
She closed her eyes. Then she opened them very wide and said: “It’s when I look at him … I see him … his little body …”
Her thoughts were jumbled and clearly dropping the doll had unnerved her.
I just said: “Well, everything is all right now.”
She smiled and nodded.
I talked to her for a while until I thought it was time for Lucy’s return. Then I said goodbye and that I would come again soon.
As I came out of the cottage I saw Crispin St. Aubyn. I had not gone far when he was beside me.
“So you have been to the cottage,” he said.
“I think our little subterfuge worked.”
“I don’t think she has completely forgotten.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She seems disturbed.”
“How?” he asked sharply.
“I’m not sure. It was the way she talked.”
“What did she say?”
“Something about his not being there but here.”
“Her mind’s unhinged. You can’t take what she says seriously.”
“No. But there seems to be a pattern to it.”
“What do you mean? A pattern?”
“I mean that what she says one day seems to be linked with what she may say the next.”
“You seem to be a very discerning young lady.”
Young lady! I liked that. Not just the child any more. I felt he would have more respect for a young lady than he would have for a mere child.
“Well, I often go to the House of the Seven Magpies.”
“Where?”
“I mean the Lanes’ house.”
“Why did you call it that?”
“There’s a picture in the nursery …”
“So you named the house after the picture?”
“I think it has a special meaning for Flora.”
“What did you call it?”
“The Seven Magpies. You have been up there in that room. You must have seen it. It’s seven magpies sitting on a wall.”
“What is so special about it?”
“The rhyme. Flora said it came from a book and Lucy cut the picture out and framed it for her. You may know the rhyme about the magpies.
“One for sorrow, two for joy ” and all that. And seven are for a secret which must never be told. Flora knows it. She has said it to me more than once. “
He was silent for a moment. Then in a cool voice he said: “And you think there is something significant about that?”
“Yes, I do. It was the way Flora looked when she told me.”
“Is that why you are so interested?”
“I suppose it is … partly. I am very sorry for Flora. I think there is something worrying her.”
“And you want to find out what it is?”
“I like discovering things.”
“Yes, I see you do. Sometimes though …” He stopped and, as I was obviously waiting for him to go on, he added, “Sometimes it can get you into trouble.”
I was surprised.
“I can’t see …”
“One often does not see trouble coming until it has caught up with one.”
“Is that true or just what people say to the inquisitive?”
“I dare say that in certain circumstances it could be true.”
We had reached The Rowans.
“Goodbye,” he said.
I went in, thinking about him. I hoped all through that holiday that I would see him again and that he might seek me out to talk to me. But he did not. Tamarisk told me that he had gone abroad. I could not help wondering whether Lady Fiona had gone, too.
Soon after that, we went back to school. Our last term had begun. I wondered now and then what was going to happen when we finished. I had been seventeen last May. That was quite a marriageable age. Tamarisk said. She thought there would be a lot of entertaining at St. Aubyn’s and it would all be for the purpose of launching her. Rachel was a little unsure.
There was a certain amount of entertaining at the Bell House now. It had completely changed. In fact, I said to Aunt Sophie, I believed Mrs. Dorian was trying to make everything as different as possible so that she could forget her husband.
Aunt Sophie agreed with that.
Harper’s Green was astounded by the wedding. It was not that of Crispin and Lady Fiona. That had been expected and had not happened.
It was Mrs. Dorian who took a new husband.
This was Archie Grindle - a widower of about fifty who had farmed in the district for many years. He had now given up his farm to his two sons, and was to live in the Bell House with his new wife.
He had a rotund figure, a red face and a booming laugh. He was as different from Mr. Dorian as Rachel’s Aunt Hilda now Mrs. Grindle was from her old self. There was only the stable which was the same and nobody liked to enter it because of grim reminders.
Aunt Hilda continued to wear bright colours and a comb in her hair; she laughed a great deal. And Rachel liked Archie, so that everything was a complete contrast to what it had been before.
But to me the spirit of Mr. Dorian lingered and I wondered what he would think if he knew what was happening in his old home. I should never forget him because I had played a big part in his tragedy.
Aunt Sophie was very amused and glad, for, as she said, Hilda deserved a bit of life after all she had gone through; and now she was taking it with both hands.