I used to make sure that the lanterns in the Seaward and Nonna Towers were always alight.
The day came bringing with it an air of excitement. My stepmother seemed to glide rather than walk about the castle. There was a secret smile on her face as though she knew everyone was expecting something to happen and she was at the heart of it.
The drama came at supper. Senara was missing. When she failed to appear at the supper table I began to be alarmed. She was often late; but never for meals where my father would be. Unpunctuality infuriated him and anyone who could not be at the table was sent away without food and often cuffed for it.
My father noticed her absence but did not comment. If she failed to put in an appearance she would go without her supper. My stepmother showed no anxiety but then she never did show very much.
After the meal she was still missing and I began to be frightened.
I went up to our bedchamber.
“Have you seen Mistress Senara?” I asked Merry.
She shook her head. “She went off early in the afternoon.”
“Went off,” I said. “Where?”
“She were on her horse, Mistress Tamsyn, Jan saw her riding away from the castle as though she were possessed.”
I wished they would not use such expressions and on Hallowe’en of all times. It was easy to see how their minds worked. For them my stepmother was still the witch to be placated and feared; and Senara was her daughter.
“When was this?” I demanded.
“Early this afternoon.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No, Mistress. She just put on her riding clothes and her best hat with the blue feathers and went off.”
“Which of the grooms were with her?”
“Well, Mistress, I did see none of they.”
I thought: She has gone off alone!
Although we knew most of the neighbouring squires, their families and retainers, robbers lurked on the roads and we were forbidden to ride without at least two grooms.
Yet she had gone off alone and on Hallowe’en.
I went up to the ramparts of Nonna’s Tower and looked out. If it had been daylight or a clear moonlit night I might have been able to see something. On such a night as this I could see very little but the four towers of the castle.
I went down, very anxious. She had gone riding alone that afternoon. Anything could have happened to her.
I went to find my father and stepmother. I must tell them that Senara had not merely missed her supper but that she was not in her bedchamber either and something must be done about it.
As I came down to the hall I heard arrivals in the courtyard. With great relief I hurried out. One of the grooms was holding a lantern and I saw a strange man on a horse.
My father was greeting him and my stepmother was with them.
“Come into the castle,” said my father. “You must be weary.”
I said: “Father, Senara is not in the castle.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “This good gentleman has ridden here to tell us she is safe. Tell the servants to bring mulled wine and refreshment for he needs to revive himself.”
Relief filled me as I ran off to do his bidding.
The gentleman was Carl Deemster and he had recently bought, from Squire Northfield, a mansion some five miles inland. He had come from Lincolnshire with his family two years before. He was rather sombrely but neatly dressed and his accent was unfamiliar to me. He explained that Senara had lost her way and called at his house. The mist had arisen and it was growing dark and his wife had invited her to stay the night while he rode to the Castle to tell us that Senara was safe.
My father was very hospitable. He said that the mist was thick and it would not be an easy journey back. The kind Carl Deemster must spend the night at the castle and supper must be brought for him immediately and a room prepared.
This was agreed upon. Our guest ate very sparingly and drank nothing but he and my father seemed to find a great interest in each other.
Carl Deemster talked about the sea and clearly knew something of ships.
When I went up to my bedchamber the mist had penetrated into the room. It seemed stark and empty without Senara. Merry came in to put my things away.
“So she be safe,” she said. “I thank God for it.”
“Of course Senara is safe,” I cried. “What did you think?”
“It being Hallowe’en I did wonder. And her going off. Jennet said it reminded her …”
“Jennet,” I said, “is always being reminded.”
“She said it was such a day when the mistress went away.”
“You mean …”
Merry crossed herself. “I mean the mistress … she who is mistress now. She came on Hallowe’en and she went on Hallowe’en. You were but a baby at the time as it was years ago. And we thought that Mistress Senara, being her daughter and none knowing where she came from …”
I was always uneasy when the servants talked of Senara’s background. I could never hear the word witchcraft when I did not fear for her. She was in a way to blame. There would always be mystery attached to her mother but Senara nourished it. Even on this occasion she had to get lost on Hallowe’en. It was almost as though she wanted to be accused of witchcraft. Did she not realize how dangerous this could be?
My uneasiness stayed with me. I was longing to get through the night and be united with her. I wanted to hear how it was she had managed to get lost on Hallowe’en.
I was up early in the morning and so was our guest. He had broken his fast with a goblet of home-brewed ale and meat and bread and told me that he wished to leave early. He was sure that his wife would realize that he had spent the night with us on account of the mist, but he would like to return to Leyden Hall as soon as possible for she might be anxious if he were late.
I asked if I might ride with him. We could take two of our grooms and bring Senara back with us.
He said his wife would be delighted and so it was arranged.
It was a beautiful morning when we left. The mist had lifted and the air was balmy. We rode inland through lanes and across meadows and finally we came to Leyden Hall, a charming old house, built I should say at the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s reign—about the same period as Lyon Court and very like it in style, with its vaulted roof and wings on either side.
But how different was Leyden Hall from Lyon Court, with its ornamental gardens where peacocks strutted symbolically. My grandfather and his father had loved ostentation. It always seemed to me that everything at my grandfather’s home was meant to impress. I was immediately struck by the simplicity of Leyden Hall. I had been to this house when it belonged to Squire Northfield. What a different place it had become. There were no pictures on the walls, everything that was decorative had been taken away. I met the mistress of the house, Priscilla Deemster; her gown was of a simple calico material which came from Calicut in India—clean and neat without lace or ribbons. She greeted me with a show of friendship plainly expressed. I felt that I was in the kind of household I had never seen before.
The Deemsters had two sons who were both married and lived with their wives at Leyden Hall. They were all dressed in the same simple manner. Among them Senara looked like one of the peacocks of Lyon Court in her blue riding habit. I had rarely seen her as lovely or as excited as she was then. Her beauty was as breathtaking as that of her mother.
“We were so anxious about you,” I told her.
“It was the mist,” she said and there was a lilt in her voice. “It has been a wonderful experience for me. I have been so comforted in this house.”
Her voice had taken on a tone unusual with it and which somehow belied the sparkle in her eyes.
“I am so sorry to have caused you anxiety,” she said. “Master Deemster out of the goodness of his heart so kindly offered to let you know.”
“It was indeed kind,” I said.