The Lady and the Lake Read online

  The staircase curved at one point and I bravely decided to ascend the steps, the glow of candlelight from above lighting my way. Half of me wanted to retreat and the other half of me, although I was afraid of what I might encounter, pressed on.

  I reached the bend in the staircase and stood suddenly still hardly daring to breathe, so much so that I clapped a hand to my mouth for I could see the room above only three steps away and I could see the woman in a long white night-gown, light-coloured wavy hair cascading down her back to her waist.

  She was slight of build and appeared to be praying as I could hear the murmur of her voice and caught the word, Lord, twice. I couldn’t stay for who was she and what would she do if she found me there? If she had a mind to she could push me down the stairs. With this thought, as hastily as I could without her hearing, I descended the steps and gently pushed the door to allow me access to the corridor once more.

  I practically fled to my room, closing the door quietly behind me and looking through the curtains, could see no light in the tower.

  I’d obviously left just in time but I knew without a doubt that this time I’d not imagined it or dreamed it and as I snuggled under the cotton sheet I prayed that next time I would possess more courage to solve the mystery.

  5

  I enjoyed my first day at the school, the children were delightful, very obedient and friendly, all except Clara who was quiet all day and didn’t join in verbally with any of the lessons. At the end of the day I took her to one side.

  ‘Is something bothering you, Clara, for you’ve not spoken to me all day,’ I questioned. Her answer was to shrug her shoulders and look away. ‘How old are you?’ I asked gently.

  ‘Eight, Miss,’ she replied reluctantly.

  ‘Perhaps you don’t like me and are missing Miss Anderson,’ I said.

  ‘I do like you Miss, but Ma and Pa told me I wasn’t to have anything to do with you as you live at the Hall,’ she said quietly not looking me in the face. So, I thought, even the children couldn’t escape the animosity towards the Kershaw family. Quickly I cleaned the blackboard and tidied up, then placing my bonnet on I took hold of Clara’s hand.

  ‘I’m walking you home Clara as I wish to speak to your mother and father,’ I said firmly. The child didn’t object and led me to one of the white cottages in the village. A woman was on her knees polishing the brass step at the front door.

  She turned her head around at our arrival and I was quite shocked, although relatively young she had dark circles under her troubled eyes and her face was as white as the sheets on my bed. Getting up she pulled Clara from me placing a protective arm round the girl’s shoulder.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked with hatred in her voice, ‘go home where you belong.’

  ‘Strictly speaking,’ I said quietly, ‘Kerslake Hall isn’t my home and I am not a Kershaw, and have indeed been here only two days.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but you were there when my Gladys was found.’ Her voice broke as she spoke the words and my heart missed a beat for I had not expected Clara to be Gladys’ sister.

  ‘Mrs White, I am so sorry.’ So saying I went to her and put my arm gently around her shoulder. I half expected her to push me away, but instead she cried, blowing her nose on the hem of her apron. As she calmed down she looked at me, ‘Have you any bairns?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ I said simply.

  ‘Well when you have you’ll understand. A good girl Gladys were, I still can’t believe she’s gone,’ she said sniffing into her apron once more.

  ‘Mrs White, I understand how you must be feeling,’ I said, an idea forming in my mind, ‘would you allow Clara to come up to the Hall next Thursday for Emily’s party?’ At my words Mrs White looked at me aghast.

  ‘What! And have her murdered too!’

  ‘Not at all, I want you to see all is not bad at Kerslake Hall, and young Emily has no friends,’ I spoke with encouragement.

  ‘I’ll think on it,’ she conceded, ‘and I’ll have to ask my husband, I doubt he’ll be agreeable.’

  ‘Yes, please think about it and I’ll call on you next week if I may.’ My voice was soothing as I spoke and as she stepped through the door with Clara she looked back at me.

  ‘You do that, Miss,’ she said grudgingly.

  ***

  Later, back in my bedroom while freshening up my face with some cold water, I thought how foolish I had been to invite Clara to the Hall and that I would have to speak to Antony Kershaw about it as it wasn’t my place to hand out invitations to anyone.

  But my thoughts had been with both Emily and Clara, having a strong feeling that they would get on well together.

  There was a tap on the door before I had a chance to change my grey dress for the pale green one. Without any ado or by your leave Mrs Grafton appeared in the doorway.

  ‘The Mistress wishes to see you now,’ she instructed, a sly smile to her lips as she spoke.

  ‘If that is so, then I had better come with you now,’ I said, pleased that I hadn’t yet changed after all.

  As I entered Mrs Kershaw’s sitting-room I was more than surprised to see Thomas standing there, his hands behind his back, he was just as surprised to see me.

  ‘Miss Sinclair!’ he exclaimed smiling at me and then looking at his aunt who sat upright in her armchair, the cat, Charles, on her lap.

  ‘So Aunt Henry, why have you summoned the both of us?’ he asked with his devil may care manner.

  ‘I have brought the two of you here as it had been brought to my attention that the pair of you have been seen walking together to the Abbey and indeed sharing a picnic on the grass. What have you to say for yourselves?’ Henrietta Kershaw’s harsh voice boomed out.

  ‘There is no harm done, Aunt Henry,’ replied Thomas, somewhat irritated I could tell.

  ‘I will not have you associating with my paid help. For one thing it is unseemly and secondly it displeases me,’ his aunt shouted back at him.

  ‘And just what does please you, Aunt Henry?’ I felt Thomas had gone too far at these words.

  ‘I’ll thank you not to speak to me like that and don’t call me by that name, you know it irks me,’ Mrs Kershaw retaliated.

  ‘Well I have every intention of taking Abbey to Tidwell on Saturday, whether you like it or not!’ Thomas’s voice was rising and he tapped his foot slowly on the floor as he spoke.

  ‘But she’s as poor as a church mouse!’ At these words I interrupted her.

  ‘And how do you know this, pray?’ I’d found my tongue in the old lady’s presence at last. ‘I’ll have you know I’m not completely destitute, for I have a wealthy aunt.’

  ‘Enough!’ the old lady shouted, banging her fist on the table and shoving the sleeping cat off her lap. ‘I forbid you to see each other outside the confines of this house and if you do I shall dismiss you, Miss Sinclair.’

  At this she pointed a bony finger towards me. I looked at Mrs Kershaw and Thomas then, picking up my skirts, I fled from the room, tears threatening to fall. Thomas was intent on following me, but I heard the old lady shout, ‘Stay!’

  I would seek him out later. It was because of him I stayed and I admitted to myself that I could not bear not to see him and spend time with him as we had on the day we walked to the abbey. As I ran I bumped straight into Mrs Grafton, almost knocking her over.

  She took one look at my tear-stained face and smiled. I realised then that it was her who had told Mrs Kershaw of my outing with Thomas. I ran straight past her and out of the main door.

  Mrs Grafton’s voice ringing in my ears, ‘Miss Sinclair, use the servants’ entrance.’ But I didn’t give a fig for servants’ entrances, Mrs Henrietta Kershaw or Kerslake Hall, all I cared about was Thomas; and then I thought of Emily who had invited me to her party. I stopped running and found myself on the dirt track leading to the abbey.

  ***

  It was late afternoon, the sky was blue and the sun shining, a sun which didn’t reach my heart. I stopped at
the top of the track and looked down at the ruined abbey. The scene before me hadn’t changed, but in the last hour all my hopes had been dashed by a bitter old lady who obviously loathed seeing people happy; but was it really so bad I asked myself.

  What was the worst that could happen? I could be dismissed, if I were that would mean I could be with Thomas, but where would I go and how would I support myself?

  I was amazed at my thoughts, was I really in love? And I felt sure I was, our meeting had been love at first sight. I could tell myself this, but alas not the recipient of my affections, but I felt better at the thought.

  Walking slowly back to the house I decided to seek out Thomas who would no doubt be in the long gallery working at this time of day. On entering the house once more I realised that I had no idea where the long gallery was, but guessed it to be on the floor above.

  Stepping into the hall I looked around me and as no-one was about, quickly climbed the wide staircase. On reaching the first landing I decided which way to turn and took the left-hand corridor as this was the longest side of the house as the front door was not central to the building.

  Opening the door I knew I’d made the right choice for I stepped into a very long room with paintings covering the walls. As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see Thomas halfway down the room. I ran to him, my feet noisy on the polished floorboards beneath, as I neared his silent figure he caught me to him and in that moment I knew he felt the same.

  ‘Oh Thomas!’ I said breathlessly, ‘she can’t keep us apart can she?’ I looked at him for some reassurance.

  ‘I won’t let her, I promise,’ he said freeing the pins at the back of my head, my hair falling over my shoulders. I found myself in a compromising position.

  ‘What if someone comes in?’ I said with some sense of alarm.

  ‘No-one will come here except perhaps Antony.’ As Thomas spoke he ran his hand over my blonde hair.

  ‘Antony!’ I exclaimed, twisting my hair back into a knot and replacing the pins to hold it in place as best I could.

  Thomas laughed, ‘I mean you no harm or dishonour,’ he said.

  ‘Is it right that two people from different walks in life be drawn to each other. Me poor, you wealthy?’ I asked him seriously.

  ‘But you have a rich aunt,’ he teased.

  ‘Indeed I do, my father’s last remaining sister who had no children, she wanted me to go and live with her, but I was intent on finding my own way through life.’ My voice was wistful as I spoke.

  ‘I’m glad you have,’ said Thomas seriously, ‘for I’ve never before met anyone like you.’ His voice was for once serious although his lovely eyes sparkled with mischief.

  ‘May I look at the pictures?’ I asked him. ‘For I am very fond of art.’

  ‘But of course, I’ll guide you round,’ he said with some enthusiasm. I was to learn he was very knowledgeable in his field.

  ‘It is a very long room,’ I observed, for indeed it was.

  ‘Yes, it stretches the whole length of the house from the main door to the tower, and see this here?’ He stopped at a bare piece of the stone wall, bending a little he looked through what appeared to be a slit in the stone. ‘Look through here and tell me what you can see,’ he urged me.

  There was no need for me to bend as Thomas had done, and looking through the tiny gap in the wall I gasped in surprise.

  ‘Goodness, I can see one side of the hall and the main door.’

  For indeed I could, and even as I looked I saw Alice walk across the black and white tiles and then disappear out of the door causing a slant of light to fall on the polished floor. I idly wondered where she was going without Emily. I looked at Thomas. ‘What a novel idea,’ I enthused.

  ‘Hardly novel, Abbey. It’s a squint and has been there for over three hundred years,’ he explained.

  ‘Is the house that old then?’ I said somewhat surprised. ‘It doesn’t look that old.’

  ‘But it is. I’m very interested in antiquities, houses, churches, books and paintings,’ he said. This was obviously the one thing that he was passionate about and I was pleased that I was getting to know about him.

  ***

  We walked together down the row of paintings, some large, some small and also some likeness, of people I’d never know, miniatures painted with care for a loved one. There was a picture of Kerslake Hall, painted in 1750. Looking at it brought to mind my arrival, was it really only three days ago?

  I knew now why the house had seemed so familiar then, for Mr Lang had a copy of the painting hung in his office.

  I stopped in front of a very commanding portrait of a young dark-haired woman, ringlets fell each side of her face, her complexion perfect with rosy cheeks. She wore a cream silk gown adorned with small violet flowers and a prettily-painted fan in one hand.

  ‘Who is this?’ I asked Thomas, too entranced to look at the brass plaque beneath.

  ‘It is Aunt Henry in her younger days,’ he replied, and I was quite taken aback for this young woman was beautiful and I felt a sudden sympathy for the older Henrietta Kershaw.

  Now you have told me I can see that Emily has some of her features, especially the dark hair and the small pert mouth.’ I could hardly believe that this was the same woman that had berated us earlier.

  ‘Well it is, I can assure you.’ And he showed me the plaque to prove it, which read, Henrietta Kershaw 1854. ‘Now let us talk of ourselves.’ He insisted taking my arm and leading me towards the door.

  ‘It’s nearly six o’clock,’ I exclaimed looking at my fob watch. ‘The time has just flown by today and I have to be in the kitchen in the next five minutes.’

  ‘Just time for me to say that we will still go to visit Whitby on Saturday if you are willing.’ As he asked the question he gently touched my cheek with the back of his hand.

  ‘Indeed I am, for if I am to be banished from the house I know it will be worth it,’ I teased laughing up at him.

  ‘Well then, I shall meet you in the pony and trap outside the gates at 9 a.m.’ So saying he took my hand gently kissing the palm which sent a shiver through my whole being.

  ‘I shall be there I promise.’ Praying silently that no-one would stop us.

  ***

  Later, making my way to my room after supper, my thought was to find a suitable dress in my wardrobe for Emily’s party. After my interlude with Thomas in the long gallery I felt so much happier and had a spring in my step again.

  The sun had moved across the sky leaving just a ray of light on the wardrobe which appeared to light my way. Opening the door I looked at my sparse array of dresses hung on the rail, deciding on which one would be suitable and alluring.

  I picked out my best dress of pale blue, it was made of a light cotton material with a rounded neck-line, puffed sleeves to the elbow and a slightly flared skirt. Quickly I removed my shabby grey dress and put on the blue one.

  The cotton felt cool against my skin and as I looked in the mirror at my reflection I realised that if I could find a haberdashery shop in Whitby I could purchase some silk flowers for the shoulder and waistline of the dress to follow the fashion of the day.

  Also a matching flower in my hair could look quite fetching, with this thought in mind I felt so much better and looked forward to Emily’s party. I was about to remove the dress when there was a tap at the door.

  It couldn’t be Mrs Grafton for she would have stepped in without invitation, how I loathed that woman. Opening the door I could see it was Alice and drew to one side so she could enter.

  ‘What a delightful dress,’ Alice observed, ‘and the colour suits you,’ she complimented me.

  ‘Thank you, I intend to wear it to Emily’s birthday party,’ I explained and told her my intention to stitch the silk flowers on to enhance the dress once I’d been able to purchase some.

  ‘A cream colour would look quite fetching,’ said the governess walking across to sit on my bed.

  ‘It’s pleasant to have you call on me,�
� I said. Was there a purpose for your visit?’

  ‘I wish to know your thoughts about Gladys.’ At her words I thought of Clara.

  ‘To be honest I have no idea, except that a woman in the village suggested it was Antony Kershaw.’ I said innocently.

  ‘Antony, but that is rubbish!’ As Alice spoke she stood up pacing the floor quite distraught. I hadn’t expected my words to cause such a reaction.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, that is the last thing I wanted to do,’ I uttered, hoping my words would calm her and realising that Alice was a volatile person.

  ‘Antony Kershaw is a good man, he’s been very kind to me and he adores Emily,’ she defended him.

  ‘And what of his wife? Did she die in suspicious circumstances?’ I asked.

  ‘Certainly not. It was a tragic accident. Apparently Pheobe walked around the lake each evening before she retired for the night. This particular day there had been a lot of rain and she slipped on the mud and fell into the water. It is a very deep lake and Pheobe could not swim. By the time the alarm was raised it was too late.’ Alice recounted the tale with some emphasis on the word accident.

  ‘Who told you this?’ I asked tentatively.

  ‘Mr Kershaw himself on the day I arrived to take up my position as governess to Emily. He wished to put the record straight for he knows there are many in the village who point an accusing finger at him. This angers me.’

  She indeed looked angry I thought and had the feeling that this was a true account of Pheobe’s demise. But it didn’t explain the deaths of Annie and Gladys. I’d not given it a lot of thought, but thinking about it now someone must have lured them to Kerslake Hall with some false promise.

  There were only two men at the Hall now, Mr Kershaw and Thomas. Lord forbid it was him! Then came the thought that Thomas had not been here when Annie died, so unless it was a member of staff like the gardener or handyman the finger did point to Antony Kershaw.