Free Voices in a Haunted Room by Philippa Carr Page A

most was anger. He had never liked Charlot, and I am sure would not have minded his going in the least. He was angry because it had upset my mother.
    I doubted he had ever been so flouted in his life.
    Sabrina became ill. I was sure it was with anxiety, and in a way this turned our thoughts from what was happening to them in France.
    I would sit and read to her, which was what she liked, and she talked a great deal about the past. She remarked what a fortunate girl I was. I had been loved all my life; and she threw a little light on her own childhood, which made me see her differently.
    She told me how when she was a little girl she had been forbidden to skate on a frozen pond because a thaw was setting in. She had disobeyed and fallen into the water, to be rescued by her mother, who caught a chill which shortened her life. Her father never forgave her. It was a shadow which had hung over her life. Only my great-grandmother, Clarissa, who was her cousin, had understood her. And then she had married the man whom Clarissa had loved.
    I looked at her frail body, her white hair, and her thin but still-beautiful features, and I saw that her life had been overshadowed by guilt. She had shared Dickon with Clarissa and they had found their consolation in the son of the man whom they had both loved.
    What happens in our young days must surely shape our natures. Dickon was arrogant, aggressive, seeing himself inheriting the earth as his right. Well, those two admiring women had helped to make him what he was. And Charlot… he had been brought up in France. It was his country and he would never tear himself away from it.
    I prayed that he would never be caught by those who were making revolution. It would be a martyr’s death for him if he were. Louis Charles had always been something of a disciple. And Jonathan? No, I could not imagine anyone’s getting the better of Jonathan. He had that quality which was Dickon’s and somehow I felt he would always survive. I fostered that belief because it cheered me.
    I was spending a great deal of time with David. I could discuss this alarming situation with him much more easily than I could with my mother.
    I said: “I’m afraid for them. How I wish they would come home.”
    “Jonathan will come, you’ll see. I don’t know about Charlot and Louis Charles. Charlot has been serious about this for a long time, and he carries Louis Charles with him. It is a new adventure for Jonathan. I fancy he will tire of it though. He does lose his enthusiasms rather quickly.”
    The trip to London which was promised for my birthday was postponed. No one really felt in the mood for such frivolities.
    “Perhaps,” said my mother pathetically, “when they come back we can all go together.”
    Dickon, however, did go to London and my mother accompanied him. I wondered whether Jonathan had walked out on certain business commitments as well as his home.
    The days passed quickly when the first shock was over. These consisted mainly of daily lessons for me. I spoke English fluently enough to satisfy even Dickon; and it was only rarely that a faint French accent could be detected.
    David would often read passages to me from books which interested me, and I was learning something of the subjects which fascinated him. He liked me to ride round the estate with him and I was getting to know the tenants in the outlying districts. I took a great interest in the state of the cottages and when the young people were having babies. David was delighted and often commented on how popular I was with these people. He said that on those occasions when I was not with him they asked after me.
    “The other day one of them said, ‘She’s one of us—Mistress Claudine is. No one would ever think she was aught else.’”
    “It looks as though they have forgiven me for having a French father.”
    “A great concession, I do assure you,” said David.
    “Why are people so insular?”
    “Because their horizons are as narrow as