Seven for a Secret (10 page)

One day, when we were in the garden, I said to her:

“What is it like at the Bell House? I mean really like?”

She stiffened and there was a long pause. Then she burst out: “Oh, Freddie, it frightens me.”

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t know … quite. It just does.”

“Is it your uncle?”

“He’s such a good man, you see. He is always talking about God … and to Him … like Abraham or one of those people in the Bible. How sinful a lot of things are … things that people wouldn’t think of.

I suppose that is because he is so good. “

“It’s supposed to be good to care about other people, not frighten them.”

“When Aunt Hilda bought a comb for her hair he thought that was sinful. It was a nice comb and it made a difference when she put it in her hair. It was dinnertime and we were at the table. I thought it looked very nice. He;

was angry. He said, “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity. You looY* like the whore of Babylon!” Poor Aunt Hilda, she was quite white. She was so upset. He took the comb out of her hair and it fell round her shoulders. He was like an angry prophet in the Bible . like Moses when the people made the golden calf. He isn’t like a person . not like one of us. “

“My Aunt Sophie is kind and loving. I think that’s better than quoting the Bible and behaving like Abraham. After all, he was ready to kill his son as a sacrifice when God told him to. Aunt Sophie would never have done that to make herself look good in God’s eyes.”

“You are lucky. Your Aunt Sophie is a darling. 1 wish she’d been mine.

But, of course, my uncle is a very good man. We have prayers every day

and they go on for a long time. My knees get sore. We have to pray for forgiveness and because he is so good, he thinks we are all very bad and will go to Hell in any case, so it all seems so pointless. “

“And he’ll go to Heaven, of course.”

“Well, he’s always talking to God. But it’s not that…”

“What is it?”

“It’s the way he looks at me. The way he touches me. He said once that I was a temptress. I don’t know what he meant. Do you?”

I shook my head.

“I try not to be there with him … alone.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Sometimes … well, once he came into my room at night when I was in bed. I woke up and he was standing there looking at me.”

I felt cold suddenly and shivered. I knew exactly how she had felt.

“He said to me: ” Have you said your prayers? ” I said, ” Yes, Uncle.

”

“Are you telling me the truth?” he went on.

“Get out of bed and say them again.” He made me kneel down and he was watching me all the time. Then he started to pray in a funny sort of way. He was asking God to save him from the Devil’s temptation.

“I fight, 0 Lord,” he said.

“Thou know est how I fight to overcome this sin which the Devil plants in me,” or something like that. Then he put out his hand and touched me. I thought he was going to pull my nightdress off. I was terribly frightened and pulled myself away. I ran out and Aunt Hilda was just outside the door. I clung to her and she kept saying it was all right.

”

“And what did he do?”

“I didn’t see, I just hid my face. He must have come out of the room and gone away. When I looked up he was gone.”

“What happened then?”

“Aunt Hilda kept on saying it was all right. She took me

back to my room, but I didn’t want to stay there. She got into my bed with me and said she would not leave me. She was there all night. In the morning she said it was just a nightmare. My uncle had walked in his sleep.

“Better not mention it,” she said.

“He wouldn’t like that.”

So I didn’t . not till now. Then she said, “You could always lock your door in case he should sleepwalk again. Then you would sleep better,” she said.

“Nobody could come in then.” She took a key out of her pocket and showed me. I always have it with me. I make sure every night that 1 lock my door. “

“I wish you could come and live with us.”

“Oh, I should like that. Once … he was there … outside the door.

He turned the handle. I jumped out of bed and stood there listening.

He started to pray. He kept cursing the devils who tormented him just as the saints were tormented. He said he knew God did it to tempt him.

Imps came in the form of young girls. He was half crying. He would chastise himself, he said. He would purge himself of evil. He went away but I couldn’t sleep, even though my door was locked. “

“Oh, Rachel,” I said.

“I’m glad you told me. I knew there was something.”

“I feel better now I’ve told you.” She looked at the key and put it into her pocket.

“I have this,” she said.

We sat for some time in silence, and I knew exactly how she had felt when he came into her room.

There was a great deal of discussion about our going away to school.

Aunt Sophie went to see Mrs. St. Aubyn and Rachel’s Aunt Hilda went with her.

They were all so different. Aunt Hilda was meek and eager to please;

Mrs. St. Aubyn made a play of showing an interest which she clearly

did not feel; but Aunt Sophie was energetic and had already investigated several schools, and her choice had fallen on St. Stephen’s. It was not too far away and she had seen the headmistress, whom she judged to be a sensible woman. She liked the tone of the school and felt it was the right one. There was no opposition.

It was May and we had to move quickly to start the term in September.

It was Aunt Sophie who took us all into Salisbury to buy our uniforms and by the end of June everything was satisfactorily arranged.

We were very excited about it all even Tamarisk and we spent hours imagining what it would be like. We were a little apprehensive though, and we were all very pleased that the three of us were going together.

Then came that day which I am sure I shall never forget as long as I live.

It was July and the weather had been warm and sultry. Rachel and I had been to St. Aubyn’s for afternoon tea. We had talked incessantly of school and it had been a very pleasant hour or so. Rachel was considerably happier at the prospect of leaving the Bell House and, of course, Tamarisk was always ready for a new adventure.

I had said goodbye to Rachel at the Bell House and did not want to go home immediately. Aunt Sophie would be shopping, so I decided to go the long way round by Barrow Wood.

I could not resist the temptation to go in and made my way to the barrows. I stood for a few moments, contemplating them. I loved the smell of the earth and the trees. It was very quiet except for the faint murmur of the light wind in the leaves.

1 thought I should miss Barrow Wood when I went to school. I must not stay too long though. Aunt Sophie would probably be almost home by now.

I turned sharply and as I did so I tripped over a stone which was protruding a few inches from the ground. 1 tried

to save myself from falling but I could not do so in time and crashed to the ground. My right foot was twisted under me and a pain was shooting through me. I scrambled to my feet, but I could not stand and sank back to the ground. I was dismayed. I should have been more careful. I knew there were odd stones jutting up in Barrow Wood. But what was the use of reproaching myself now? The important thing was how was I going to get home?

I touched my ankle and winced. It was swelling rapidly and was very painful.

I sat there, wondering what I was going to do.

And then it happened. He was there. He was coming towards me. He was staring at me and the look in his eyes terrified me.

“Poor little flower,” he murmured.

“You are hurt, little one.”

“I fell down, Mr. Dorian. I’ve hurt my ankle. Perhaps you would go and tell my aunt.”

He just stood there, staring at me. Then he said: “I have been led to this. It was meant…”

He was standing very close to me and I knew fear as I never had before. Some instinct told me that he was going to harm me in some way which I did not altogether understand.

“Go away! Go away!” I screamed.

“Get my aunt. Don’t come near me!”

He was laughing softly.

“Poor little broken flower. She can’t run away this time. Oh, it was meant. It was meant.”

I screamed louder.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t want you near me. Just go away and tell my aunt. Please … please … go away.”

But he did not go away. His lips went on moving. He was talking to God, I knew, though I could not hear what he said. I was numb with terror.

“Help me, help me,” 1 sobbed, and I let out a piercing scream.

But he was coming nearer. He was on the ground beside me and there was a terrible look on his face. He seized me.

“No … no … no!” I screamed.

“Go away. Help me!

Help me! “

Then I was alert. I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs on the road. I shouted with all my might.

“Help me! Help me! I’m in the woods. Please … please … help!”

I had a terrible fear that whoever was riding by would not hear me or perhaps would take no heed. There was no sound from the road now and I was here alone in Barrow Wood with this evil man.

Then I heard the footsteps.

“My God!”

It was Crispin St. Aubyn.

He came towards me.

He shouted: “You swine!” and he picked up Mr. Dorian as though he were a puppet figure and he brought up his fist and gave him a blow in the face. I heard the crack of bone as he threw Mr. Dorian from him on to the ground.

Mr. Dorian sprawled there. He was quite still.

Crispin’s eyes were blazing with anger. He ignored Mr. Dorian and turned to me.

“Hurt yourself, have you?”

I was sobbing and could only nod.

“Stop crying,” he said.

“It’s all right now.”

He stooped down and picked me up.

“He …” I began, looking towards Mr. Dorian who had not moved.

“He got what he deserved.”

“You … you’ve killed him.”

“No great loss. Hurt your foot, have you?”

“My ankle.”

He did not speak. I looked over my shoulder at Mr. Dorian, who was still lying on the ground. I shuddered to

see the blood on his face. But Crispin was carrying me off. He put me on his horse and mounted behind me.

He took me to The Rowans. Aunt Sophie had just arrived back with the shopping.

“She’s hurt her ankle,” Crispin explained.

Aunt Sophie exclaimed in horror, and Crispin carried me upstairs and put me on my bed.

“We’d better get the doctor,” said Aunt Sophie.

They left me and I heard Crispin talking to her downstairs. He had said when they were on the stairs: “I have to tell you …” and then there was no more.

Aunt Sophie came back to me very soon, looking pale and disturbed, and I knew that Crispin had told her how he had found me.

She sat on my bed and said: “How are you feeling now? Does the ankle hurt?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll keep it up. I expect it’s a sprain. I hope you haven’t broken anything. Who would have believed … ?”

“Oh, Aunt Sophie,” I said.

“It was terrible.”

“I’d kill him if I had him here,” she said.

“He’s not worthy to live.”

I grew up in that moment. I understood what might have happened to me but for Crispin St. Aubyn. It was strange that he was the one to whom I had to be thankful. I could not stop thinking of the way he had picked up Mr. Dorian and shaken him. I would never forget the way Mr. Dorian had looked; his expression had been one of stricken horror and despair. I thought I had never seen such anguish on any face before.

Crispin had been furiously angry; the manner in which he had flung Mr. Dorian from him made it seem as though he were throwing away some obnoxious rubbish. He had not cared if he had killed him. 1 wondered in horror if he had.

It would be murder, 1 thought. Then Rachel would not have to be frightened any more.

The doctor had come.

“Well, young lady,” he said.

“What have you been doing to yourself?”

He prodded my ankle and 1 was asked to see if I could stand. His verdict was that I had had a bad twist of the ankle . a nasty sprain.

“It will be a little time before you’ll be able to put it to the ground with comfort. How did you do it?”

“I was in Barrow Wood.”

He shook his head at me.

“You’ll have to watch where you’re going next time.”

He talked to Aunt Sophie about hot and cold compresses and, as soon as he was gone, she got to work on me.

She watched me anxiously. I knew she was thinking that what had happened to me was more than a sprained ankle and that, by great good fortune, I had been saved from greater harm.

Aunt Sophie was the sort of person one could talk to about anything, and she decided that it was better to talk than make a secret of my misadventure.

So I told her all about it: my fall, the sudden appearance of Mr. Dorian. I mentioned that I had been uneasy about him for a long time, and how he had talked of my saying my prayers in my nightdress.

“You should have told me,” she said.

“I didn’t know that it was important,” I replied. Then I told her about Rachel.

“He’s mad, that one,” she said.

“He’s repressed. He sees sin everywhere he goes. It’s what they call religious mania. I’m sorry for his poor wife.”

“I think Crispin St. Aubyn has killed him. I think he’s murdered him.”

“I don’t think that. Just a beating. I reckon it was what he needed.

It might have taught him a lesson. ” Then suddenly she hugged me.

“I’m glad you’re safe and well and unharmed. I’d never have forgiven myself if anything happened to you.”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault.”

“I’d have blamed myself for failing to look after you. I ought to have known the sort he was.”

“How could you?”

“I don’t know, but I should.”

She had my bed moved into her room.

“Just till you’ve settled down a bit,” she said.

“You could wake in the night … and then I’d like to be near you.”