Cuckoo Children

Chapter Nine

Alice did not look forward to dining with her grandmother and aunt. They had already made it abundantly clear what they thought of Alice, Laurent and their mother, and Alice suspected that they had only been invited to suffer even more insults at their hands. Her father had said his mother had invited them to keep up pretences, and to make a fuss if the invitation was refused. He was probably right, but Alice was certain that the chance to insult them had also weighed with the Dowager Countess and Lady Victoria.

Mrs. Trevor took her on a walk in the morning, to get to know the countryside, while Laurent had his first lessons with Mr. Holroyd, the curate. In the afternoon they were to have another riding lesson, thanks to Laurent's enthusiasm, and though Alice was none too keen on riding, she was looking forward to spending some time with her brother -- and her father, even. Bernadine had probably been right -- he was a good man, and did what he could to make them feel welcome in their new home. It had not been his fault that their mother had lied to them, and neither was it his fault that their relatives did not accept them. It was not as if he did not do his best to reconcile them.

But there was Laurent's accident that worried Alice. Fine, no harm had been done, but still Alice suspected that her father and Mr. Blake were keeping something from her -- and whatever it was it could not be anything good. One did not keep good things from others. What had they found out when they had sent the workers onto the roof?
Meanwhile, the servants were gossiping, and though Alice was not interested in ghost stories she was regaled with their opinion -- that it had been the ghost that had caused the accident. After all, it was said to be malevolent, and it had been seen shortly before the accident had happened. Alice laughed when her maid informed her of that theory, and told her not to make a fool of herself by repeating such outrageous nonsense.

She did tell her father about it in the afternoon though, and as she had expected the story made him laugh.

"You do not believe this piece of idiocy, do you?" he asked.

"If fifteen years with Julie have not made me believe in ghosts, I daresay the servants in Metfield Hall will not do so either," Alice said. "I was not born yesterday. I know there are many people who do not want me here, and I suspect this is an attempt to scare me off, no more."

"Clever girl," Lord Metfield said.

"But I am curious how that story of the Metfield ghost came about," Alice said. "Do you know how Metfield Hall acquired it?"

"Oh, I think the main reason is that an old place like Metfield Hall needs a ghost story," Lord Metfield said lightly. "But it is said that my great - great - grandfather is to blame."

"Oh!" Laurent, who had been listening quietly so far, said. "Is the ghost supposed to be him?"

"No, but one of his victims," Lord Metfield said.

"Victims?" Alice asked, aghast. "Do you mean to tell us that one of our ancestors was a murderer?"

"Quite so. He was a brutal man, and was much feared in the neighbourhood. Whoever made him angry lived to regret it, and it was almost impossible not to make him angry sooner or later. He treated his dogs better than his servants, though that is not saying much. His wife and children lived in constant dread of him, and apparently his wife finally left him, and went to live with her parents. The slightest provocation could send him into a rage, and if this happened there was no saying what he was going to do."

Alice wondered for a moment. If one of his ancestors had been a man with a nasty temper, why should her father not be? Was this why her mother had left him? On the other hand, her father had not even once lost his temper since their arrival, not even when those tiles had almost dropped on his and Laurent's heads. So he was unlikely to take after his great-great-grandfather.

"Sounds like an amiable gentleman to me," Laurent said, after a short pause.

Lord Metfield laughed. "The kind of man to be avoided at all cost, I'd say. Anyway, he was a keen sportsman and was particularly fond of hunting and shooting. One day, they caught a young man from the village -- a poacher. Apparently, the young man had a large family to support and had gone to shoot a rabbit to feed them. What would have been a minor incident for any other landowner was an unpardonable crime in my great-great-grandfather's eyes. To punish the man, he had him tied to a tree and set the dogs on him."

"He didn't!" Alice exclaimed. "What a terrible thing to do!"

"Terrible indeed," Lord Metfield said. "The young man died, of course, and swore that his spirit would haunt Metfield Hall until the last Daventry died. Ever since then, he has been seen around the house, especially on moonlit nights, when there were visitors or new family members, or when misfortune was to strike the family. Some people even go so far as to think that this vengeful ghost causes accidents -- as you have heard from the servants, Alice."

"Have you ever seen our ghost?" Laurent asked.

Lord Metfield laughed. "No, I haven't," he said. "Perhaps because I do not believe in him. There is no record that such a thing as is described in the story ever happened, which makes me inclined to believe that the tale is not true. Such a horrible crime could hardly go unnoticed, and my great-great-grandfather's neighbours would surely have remarked on it. He may have been an unpleasant man, but a murderer? I do not believe it."

"As I said, this is an attempt to frighten us away," Alice said resolutely. "I do not believe for a moment that the figure looking up at my window the other night was a ghost."

"I am glad," Lord Metfield said. "Otherwise you'd have probably run down the stairs screaming and demanding to go back to Switzerland."

"I never scream," Alice said. "Hysteria does not take me anywhere."

"Did your mother teach you that?"

Alice smiled. "Yes. She said women who had the vapours all the time were getting on people's nerves, and instead of making a man wish to protect them they made him wish to get rid of them."

Lord Metfield laughed. "Isabelle was a sensible woman," he said. "Most of the time, that is," he added as an afterthought. Fond as she had been of her mother, Alice had to agree that her mother had not always been sensible. To run away from one's husband when one was pregnant and penniless was not exactly a clever thing to do.

Back in the house, Alice realised that there was still plenty of time until she had to dress for dinner and went to play the piano for a while. If she volunteered to entertain her grandmother, Alice believed, she would not have to talk to her or her aunt. It was an excellent scheme, she thought. She could avoid them without appearing rude. With a smile, Alice thought that she could get her brother away from them too. She'd simply ask Laurent to turn the pages of her music sheets for her.

She chose a piece her mother had always loved to hear -- besides it had been her mother's "advertising piece". Whenever some prospective client had doubted her abilities as a piano teacher, Mrs. Daventry had asked her daughter to play Beethoven's Piano Sonata in B flat Major. It had never failed to convince people of both Alice's talent and her mother's skill as a teacher.

For a moment Alice feared that Beethoven was too modern for her grandmother's taste, but then she decided to play the sonata nevertheless. It was time Lady Metfield realised that the nineteenth century had started some time ago.

Lord Metfield sought out Mrs. Trevor when he returned to the house. Though he had found it easy to become friends with his son, Alice seemed to keep him at a distance. She did enter into every subject he introduced, but remained somewhat aloof. Lord Metfield did not fool himself into believing that he could establish a perfect father-daughter relationship with her within a couple of days, but he wanted to ask Mrs. Trevor to help him find a way to speed the process up a little. For one, he wanted Alice to trust him, and he had realised that she did not do so yet.

Mrs. Trevor was rather hesitant when he asked her how to make Alice like him. "I think what Lady Alice needs most is some time," she merely said. "She does not seem to be the kind of girl who is quick to make friends. What you will need to do is show her that you are worthy of her friendship."

"And how can I do that?" Lord Metfield said. He had already thought as much. What he had come for was some more useful advice.

"I have no idea," Mrs. Trevor said. "Perhaps you should first try to show some interest in her favourite pastimes."

"I am interested in them," Lord Metfield said. "I like music just as well as she does, even though I do not play an instrument."

"But music is not the only thing that interests Lady Alice," Mrs. Trevor protested. "I think what she wants is to take her place here, and may well need your assistance to do so."

"I have been told she needed no assistance when she dealt with Mrs. Griffiths," Lord Metfield said doubtingly.

"No, but she will your help to establish herself as a lady of quality," Mrs. Trevor said. "I believe she longs for a task she can perform. Help her find her feet, my Lord. Acknowledge her place in the household, and give her something to do. Lady Alice is not made for idleness, and as far as I can tell she is itching to spring into action."

"I will try," Lord Metfield said, but he was at a loss what he could give his daughter to do. He employed servants for most of the household tasks, he thought, and there was not much for a young lady to do in the country. In town she might have been able to go shopping or make morning calls. Her state of mourning would exclude her from evening entertainments, but during the day she'd be well entertained. Considering the dangers of London for his children, however, he decided to stay. As he had told his secretary, it was easier to keep his eyes on his son's movements while they were in the country.

Perhaps he'd ask Mrs. Holroyd or Mrs. Goodwin to include Alice into the parish charity meetings, Lord Metfield thought. It was, after all, expected of a young lady of quality to take part in charitable works, and Alice looked like the kind of girl who enjoyed herself doing them. There was one problem, however. His sister Victoria had been the one who had engaged herself in charity work so far, though she had never taken it very seriously. Still she would take offence if her niece suddenly took her place. Lord Metfield sighed. He had not expected things to be easy for his children, but he had not thought things would get so complicated either. For the first time he doubted whether taking them to England had been the right thing to do.

When Alice went downstairs to meet her family in the drawing room (Mrs. Daventry had informed her that she, her husband and her son had also been invited to dine with the Dowager Countess), she met Mr. Blake who came out of the library. He greeted her, and the way he looked at her was rather flattering, Alice thought. There was a look of admiration in his eyes. She had to admit, however, that she too felt she looked rather fine that evening. After exchanging a few pleasantries with her, Mr. Blake took his leave and went upstairs, while Alice entered the drawing room. Her aunt was not yet ready, and so they had to wait for another quarter of an hour until she made her appearance. Without a word of apology, she merely demanded that they should leave immediately, or they would be late. Her husband found nothing wrong with his wife's behaviour, it seemed. Only Reggie gave his uncle and cousins an apologetic look, and Alice wondered how the boy had come to be so well-bred when his parents were quite obviously not.

Their welcome at the Dower House was quite as chilly as Alice had expected it to be. While her aunt and grandmother were extremely pleasant with Mr. Daventry and his family, Lord Metfield and his children were more or less ignored. Alice was glad of it -- being ignored was better than being insulted, though she did not doubt that her grandmother and aunt thought they were doing exactly that.

At least the food was excellent, so the visit at the Dower House was not a complete waste of time, Alice thought. She hardly took part in the conversation, and only spoke when she was spoken to. Since her uncle was sitting next to her this hardly ever happened. He, like the rest of the family, did not relish taking notice of his brother's unsuitable children. Alice suspected that he still hoped that they were not their father's children after all. Laurent's likeness to Lord Metfield had, apparently, not convinced the Daventrys.

The moment she dreaded the most finally arrived, and she had to retire to the drawing room with her grandmother and aunts. Alice looked longingly at the large pianoforte in one corner while she was making desultory conversation. She answered questions directed her as shortly as she could, and waited for the moment when the gentlemen would join them.

"I have been told that you called on Mrs. Goodwin the other day," her grandmother suddenly said. "You should know that they are not the kind of people this family associates with."

"They are the kind of people I associate with," Alice merely said.

"That was to be expected," Lady Victoria said viciously.

"Yes, wasn't it?" Alice retorted. "That I would become friendly with people who are respectable, polite, and very kind to me?"

"Do you mean to tell us that we are not respectable?" Lady Metfield demanded to know.

"Think what you will, ma'am," Alice said acidly. "I am sure you will be able to use my words to the best of your advantage."

Both her aunts looked at her, dumbstruck. None of them had expected Alice to speak to her grandmother like that -- or would have dared to do so themselves.

"That I should hear such disrespectful talk from you!" Lady Metfield protested.

"One has to earn people's respect, ma'am," Alice said quietly. "Should I ever have a reason to respect you, I will. Meanwhile, I will give you leave to think of me whatever you want, if you grant me the same liberty."

That moment, the gentlemen entered the drawing room, and Alice, after inquiring politely whether anyone wanted to hear some music, retreated to the pianoforte when her father had replied in the affirmative. She should have chosen a longer piece, Alice thought as she announced what she was going to play and Laurent took his place next to her to turn her pages.

"You're upset," he whispered. "What happened?"

"My grandmother happened," Alice merely said. "She is the nastiest old witch I have ever met. She expects me to let her choose my friends, yet she does not care for us at all. I told her I wanted to be friends with the Goodwins because they are kind, respectable and polite to me, and she chose to misunderstand me and thought I'd indicated that she was not respectable."

"Oh dear," Laurent said. "I'd thought we shouldn't leave you alone with the other women, but my father thought you'd get along with them for ten minutes."

"I am sorry to be a disappointment for him," Alice said, and began to play. The music calmed her, and for a while she did not take any notice of her surroundings. Nothing mattered to her, apart from her music sheets and her fingers on the piano keys.

When her father was present her grandmother and aunt behaved, at least, and so no one dared interrupt her or complain of the music she had played. Mrs. Daventry even went so far as to compliment Alice on her skill, and expressed a hope that her daughters might be able to play that well too, one day.

"How long do you practise every day?" Lady Victoria wanted to know.

"Between two and three hours usually," Alice said. "Though I have been remiss lately. I will have to take my practising hours up again, or my playing will revert to being mediocre, at best."

"You seem to have a very good opinion of your skill," her grandmother said acidly.

"I believe false modesty is extremely tiresome," Alice said, smiling.

"It is none of your faults, certainly," Lady Victoria said acidly.

"I am happy to say that it is not," Alice said.

Reggie turned to Laurent and said, "I have heard you play the violin the other day. Why did you not play to us tonight?"

"Because my sister had prepared a piano sonata, that is why," Laurent said. "Another day we will play together or I will play alone."

"Promise?" Reggie asked.

"Parole d'honneur," Laurent said.

"What does that mean?" Reggie wanted to know.

"Word of honour," Laurent said. "Sorry. I did not know you didn't speak French."

"I am surprised that you could speak English so well," Mrs. Daventry said. Apparently she had taken it upon herself to be the polite one among their relatives, Alice thought.

"Thank you, ma'am," Laurent said. "We spoke French whenever we were from home, but English when we were alone with my mother and Bernadine. My mother felt we should be able to speak our father's language."

"So you grew up speaking two languages?" Reggie could barely hide his excitement. "Wasn't that very difficult?"

"Not at all," Laurent said. "We learned both languages when we were very little."

Lady Metfield requested her daughter to ring for the tea-tray, and Alice was relieved to hear that their visit at her grandmother's house would soon be at an end. She hoped she was not supposed to repeat the experience soon.

The leave-taking was a cold affair, and Alice was glad to sit in her father's carriage and to go home after an evening that had been a severe trial. Her uncle, aunt and cousin were in a carriage behind them, for which Alice was glad. She told her father about her argument with her grandmother, certain that if her grandmother told him first some important facts would be missing. He listened intently, and did not blame Alice for what had happened. Neither did he criticise her lack of respect for her grandmother, probably sharing her opinion that one had to earn people's respect and aware that his mother had done nothing to earn Alice's yet.

As Alice idly looked out of the carriage window, she suddenly saw a dark figure standing next to a tree on the roadside. It was a man, wearing a long cloak and an old-fashioned tricorne hat.

"Look," she exclaimed. "There he is again!"

"Who?" Laurent asked.

"The ghost, or whatever he is," Alice said. Laurent looked out of the carriage window.

"Where?" he asked.

"Next to the tree over there," Alice said. Laurent shook his head. "I cannot see anything," he said.

Alice looked out of the window again. The man was gone.

Her father opened the window and ordered the coachman to stop the carriage. They slowed down, and the carriage stopped a couple of yards from the tree. Lord Metfield opened the door and stepped out.

"You stay in here," he said and, telling the coachman to hold the horses, went towards the tree. Suddenly, Alice was afraid.

"He shouldn't go there," she said.

"Why not?" Laurent asked.

"We do not know what kind of man this is," she said. "What if he carries a knife? Or... or a pistol?"

Laurent looked out of the window too, and they both watched their father's proceedings anxiously. When Lord Metfield disappeared behind a hedgerow, they both held their breath until he reappeared and walked towards the carriage. That moment their uncle's carriage came to a halt behind them.

"Is anything wrong?" Mr. Daventry asked. Lord Metfield shook his head.

"No, there isn't," he said. "Go on, we will meet at the Hall."

He got back into the carriage, and ordered the coachman to drive on.

"Did you find anything?" Alice asked.

Lord Metfield shook his head. "No, I didn't. But that is not surprising. He had enough time to disappear until the carriage stopped."

"Have you seen him too?" Alice asked. It would be nice if she were not the only one to see the "ghost". People might stop taking her seriously if it happened more often.

"No, I haven't," her father said.

"Perhaps I am going mad." Alice said.

"I think we can rule that possibility out," Lord Metfield said with a smile. "But one thing is certain now. Someone wants to frighten you away, and I will find out who it is. May the Lord have mercy on him when I do."

Chapter Ten

Even though she did not believe in ghosts, this new sighting made Alice nervous. She had not forgotten what had happened after she had seen the figure standing in the garden, looking up at her window. On the very next day, tiles falling from the roof had almost killed her father and brother. What if the person who impersonated the Metfield Ghost did not stop at frightening them? Alice did not want to think of this any more. She hoped the incident with the roof tiles had only been an unfortunate coincidence, and that the recent appearance of the "ghost" had no evil consequences.

Lord Metfield, who seemed to share Alice's opinion on the Metfield Ghost, wanted to find out who was trying to frighten his children, and Mr. Blake was to perform the task for him. Lord Metfield had a high opinion of the young man and his intelligence, and had no doubt Mr. Blake would solve the mystery if he put his mind to it.

"You see, Blake, this is a serious problem," Lord Metfield said to his secretary. "I have no doubt that this encounter was a threat -- and the person who is dressing up as a ghost is either the person who is responsible for the attempt at killing Laurent and me, or knows who did it."

"It is vital for us to find him then," Mr. Blake said.

"Absolutely."

"What do you want me to do, my lord?"

"First I want you to inspect the place where Alice saw that apparition," Lord Metfield said. "I did not find anything yesterday evening, but then it was dark. Maybe now, in broad daylight, you might be able to find some clue to that person's identity. -- Did you send for Drummond, by the way?"

Mr. Blake nodded. "I sent him a letter when you wanted me to," he said. "But I am afraid he did not answer the letter yet."

"Write another one," Lord Metfield said. "We will need him here, I am afraid. Unless we find that ghost, that is."

Mr. Blake wrote another letter to Mr. Drummond, and then set out on a morning walk. Lord Metfield had described the place where Lady Alice had seen the ghost to him, and it was easy for him to find it. But he had not expected to find Lady Alice there, although seeing her made him smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Blake," she said when she saw him coming. "You are up so early?"

Mr. Blake laughed. "I could ask you the same question, my lady," he said. "It is rather early for a young lady to be up."

"Nonsense, Mr. Blake," she said. "I used to get up even earlier back in Lausanne. Old habits die hard."

"And so decided to take a walk?"

"I did. It was too early for breakfast."

"Surely there'd be breakfast for you whenever you wanted," Mr. Blake said. "You only need to ask for it."

"Perhaps, but I was not hungry," she replied. "You did not tell me what you are doing here. I do not suppose you went for a walk?"

Mr. Blake shook his head. "No, I am ghost-hunting," he said.

"So am I, to be honest," Lady Alice said. "But not successfully, I am afraid."

"Was it here that you saw the ghost? I am using the word ghost for want of a better word, by the way."

"Yes, though he was standing over there." Lady Alice pointed at a bush further back from the road. "Next to the bush."

"Very convenient if one has to disappear suddenly," Mr. Blake said.

"When it is dark, especially," Lady Alice agreed.

Mr. Blake walked over to the bush, and inspected the ground next to it. "There are footprints here," he said. "Did Lord Metfield come here when he went after the ghost?"

"I am not sure," Lady Alice said. "But I think he was over there, and not here."

"In that case those footprints tell us that there was certainly no ghost. And we can be sure it was a man. I will get your father's shoes though, just in case. If those prints are not his, they must be the ghost's."

"And they could not be anyone else's?" Lady Alice asked.

"Quite unlikely," Mr. Blake replied. "This is not a common place for people to be. Whoever comes here has a purpose."

"Frightening us."

"Probably."

"Or even worse," Lady Alice said.

Mr. Blake decided not to pursue the topic any further. "Let us go back," he said. "Breakfast should be ready by now."

"Why are you evading me, Mr. Blake?" Lady Alice asked.

"I am not evading you, Lady Alice."

"Yes, you are. But never mind, it is as good an answer as an exact one."

"Lady Alice, please do not worry. Your father is doing everything to solve the matter, and once he does you can be certain there will be consequences. He is determined to take excellent care of you, and once Lord Metfield is determined on something he will carry it out, whatever the cost may be."

"I only hope he will find out soon," Lady Alice said. "Before someone succeeds in killing my brother."

Mr. Blake looked at her, horrified. "Who said such a thing to you, Lady Alice?" he wanted to know.

"Nobody. I drew my own conclusions," Lady Alice replied.

"No one wants to kill your brother, Lady Alice. Why should anyone wish to do so?"

"I have no idea, but someone did a good job trying," Lady Alice said.

"There is no one," Mr. Blake said firmly. He hated to lie to her, but he could not possibly let her know the truth. She had found out too much already, he feared. Lord Metfield would not be pleased when he told him.

"If you say so," Lady Alice said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Then why does my father send you here to find out who is impersonating the ghost?"

"Merely because he wants to find out who is trying to frighten you," Mr. Blake said. "He does not hold with such nonsense."

Together, they walked back to Metfield Hall, where Lady Alice took her leave and went to her room to change her dress before going down to the breakfast parlour. Mr. Blake went to the library, where he knew Lord Metfield was waiting for his report.

At the breakfast table, Alice tried to keep up a polite conversation with her aunt, but Mrs. Daventry did not cooperate. She was rather quiet, and only answered when she was obliged to. Alice soon turned to Mrs. Trevor, who was of a more forthcoming disposition. Laurent joined their conversation, and even Cousin Reggie said a thing or two, though his mother gave him a reproving look whenever he did. Alice suspected that although he was their guest, Reggie was not supposed to have much to do with them, and she wondered why the Daventrys had come to Metfield Hall at all if they did not want to get to know Laurent and her.

For the remainder of the morning Alice was very busy -- first she had to have a word with Mrs. Griffiths, the housekeeper, and then she retired to the music room to practise. She did not see anyone until the early afternoon, when the butler announced an unexpected visitor -- Lady Victoria Daventry.

"Are you certain she wants to see me and not Mrs. Daventry?" she asked him.

"Lady Victoria wishes to see you, my lady," the butler said.

Puzzled, Alice asked the butler to inform her ladyship that she would join her immediately. What did her aunt want of her? She had not seemed very eager to get better acquainted with her nephew and niece; in fact she had never bothered to hide her disdain. Then Alice realised that it was probably a formal visit -- after all one had to call on new neighbours to welcome them to the neighbourhood, and Lady Victoria -- as well as the Dowager Countess - was the kind of person who would want to keep up pretences at all cost.

After she had looked into the mirror above the fireplace and straightened her hair, Alice walked to the drawing room to receive her aunt. When she entered the room, she was relieved to see that Mrs. Trevor had already been there before her and had taken it upon her to entertain Alice's visitor until Alice was at leisure to receive her. At least Lady Victoria could not say she had been kept waiting. Alice greeted her aunt politely, but was not able to hide her astonishment at the visit.

"My dear girl!" Lady Victoria exclaimed, and took both Alice's hands. "At last I had the chance to visit you!"

Alice gave Mrs. Trevor a bewildered look, and Mrs. Trevor shrugged, almost imperceptibly.

"I am happy to see you, Aunt," Alice lied. "Would you like some tea -- some refreshment?"

"No, thank you," Lady Victoria said. "I cannot stay long -- my mother expects me back soon. But I just had to see you without her being with us."

Alice could not think why this should make a difference, but she did not say so.

"You see, she has never forgiven your father for marrying your mother," Lady Victoria continued. "If I were to be friendly with you and your brother, I could not continue living with her. She'd never stop persecuting me."

"Does she hate my mother so much?" Alice asked.

"She always thought your father had thrown himself away," Lady Victoria said. "And though no one could doubt your mother's respectability, there were people who ... who thought she had trapped your father in a marriage he did not want. Besides, there was the scandal when she left him. The family suffered as much as your father, and my mother is not of a forgiving disposition."

"I thought she must have been glad when my mother was gone, since she did not approve my parents' marriage," Alice said dryly.

"Oh, no. The circumstances, the scandal -- my mother thought the girl was out to ruin the family, and she almost did. -- But this is all over now, and it was not your fault after all. It is wrong to treat you with contempt just because your mother was not the woman we should have wished your father to marry. This is why I came here -- I knew I ought to apologise. I hope you will forgive the way I treated you -- and the things I said."

Lady Victoria looked sincere, and Alice assured her that she was not one to feel resentment for long.

"I may be obliged to behave in a cold manner to you when you call on my mother, but please believe me when I say that this is not at all what I wish."

"I will remember it," Alice said.

"I am so glad," Lady Victoria said, and rose. "I must go back to the Dower House now, or my mother will be worried. Please do not mention my visit in her presence, Alice."

"I will not," Alice said. "But you know you will be welcome whenever you choose to call on us."

"You are a dear girl," Lady Victoria said and shook her hand. "Good bye for now." She turned to Mrs. Trevor to take leave of her, and then left the room. Alice waited until she heard the butler close the front door, and then turned to her companion.

"Do you believe she is in earnest, Mrs. Trevor?"

"She certainly looked as if she were," Mrs. Trevor said calmly. "Besides I think it must be very awkward for her to come here. She would not subject herself to such a trial and apologise unless she was serious about it. Lady Victoria seems to be such a proud lady."

"You are probably right."

"You must consider that it must be very disagreeable for her to be on such bad terms with her brother, Lady Alice," Mrs. Trevor continued. "Who, apart from being her brother, is also the head of the family. Lord Metfield is an amiable gentleman, but I would not like to fall out with him."

Alice nodded. What Mrs. Trevor said had a point. Her father was the head of the family, and it was in all likelihood awkward for a member of the family to be at odds with him. She decided to give her aunt the benefit of the doubt and to believe what she had said. It did her good to think that at least one member of her father's family had finally accepted her and her brother.

The next day, Mr. Drummond arrived from London. Drummond was a man in his early forties, who had started his medical career as a surgeon and had later studied medicine in Edinburgh. He had been one of the first students sponsored by the Earl of Metfield, and had liked his work in the London hospital so much that, after he had spent his obligatory five years there, he had agreed to stay and had never regretted it. He could have made more money somewhere else, but he often said that such work would bore him. Lord Metfield had learned to depend on him in every matter concerning the hospital, and had always been satisfied to do so. Mr. Drummond had never let him down.

Apart from their business relations, they had become good friends, and although Mr. Drummond had been very busy in London he had not hesitated to accept the Earl's invitation to Metfield Hall -- although it had taken him a couple of days to find someone to take his place at the hospital while he was gone. There were not many whom he trusted to do so properly.

Laurent was quick to befriend Mr. Drummond. After all, he had studied in Edinburgh, the same place where he wanted to go once he was ready to. Mr. Drummond kindly answered each of Laurent's eager questions, and promised to help him in any way he could. This also endeared him to Alice -- he did not act like the kind of man who only treated them kindly to ingratiate himself with their father. Within half an hour, Mr. Drummond had become a favourite with both Laurent and Alice.

At dinner, he even won over the Daventrys. Mrs. Daventry, after retiring to the drawing room, informed her niece and Mrs. Trevor that he seemed to be a very gentleman-like man despite his lowly origins, and that no doubt he was an authority in his profession.

"But, you know, one can never really forget where people come from. His notions must differ from ours -- he has not been brought up in the way we have."

"I do like to hear different notions from time to time," Alice merely said. "I do think Mr. Drummond is a welcome addition to the household. Besides he seems to be a close friend of my father's."

"My poor brother-in-law has always had a partiality for low company," Mrs. Daventry said.

Alice, upon hearing that remark, went to the pianoforte and sat down to play. She was quite proud of her restraint -- not too long ago she would have demanded an apology from Mrs. Daventry. She was getting quite good at swallowing insults, she thought. As it seemed, she thought with a sigh, she would have to swallow a great deal of insults in the future.

"Are you sure?" Mr. Drummond asked his lordship.

When Laurent, Mr. Blake and Mr. Daventry had decided to follow the ladies to the drawing room, Lord Metfield and his friend had withdrawn to the library, and Lord Metfield had told him about what had happened lately.

"I am afraid I am," Lord Metfield said. "One of the reasons why I have asked you to come here is that I'd rather have you treat Laurent, should anything happen to him."

"I will, of course, but I do hope it won't be necessary," Drummond said. "The story sounds hardly believable."

"I know," Lord Metfield said. "But not impossible, I am afraid. Right now there is not much we can do, apart from trying to find out who the ghost is. Blake is working on that. Apart from that we must keep an eye on Laurent. This is the other reason why I have invited you. Between the two of you, you and Blake will be able to keep him out of harm I hope."

"I'll do my best," Drummond said, smiling. "He is an engaging boy, isn't he?"

Lord Metfield nodded. "I have grown very fond of him already, and he seems to like me well enough," he said. "Alice is a different matter."

"You do not like her?"

"I do, that is not the problem. There is much of her mother in her."

"Is that the problem?" Drummond asked.

Lord Metfield laughed. "Certainly not. The problem is that the girl does not trust me above half. Once she finds out that someone may be plotting to kill Laurent, she will want to leave immediately."

"I cannot blame her."

"Nor can I. What we need to do is keep the truth from her for as long as possible."

"Is she easily fooled?"

"No, she isn't." Lord Metfield sighed. "She has her suspicions already, Blake has told me. She is too clever by half."

Mr. Drummond nodded. "She did not look like the stupid sort to me."

"And she will be suspicious if we do not join them in the drawing room soon," Lord Metfield said.

"Let's go then." Mr. Drummond drained his glass, and rose.

When Lord Metfield and Mr. Drummond entered the drawing room, Alice was seated at the piano with her brother beside her. Today, they were going to play together -- Laurent had fetched his violin from his room and was in the process of tuning it.

"Don't you need to help him?" Lord Metfield asked Alice, when he saw what his son was doing.

Alice shook her head. "He can do this by himself," she said. "He has ... what do you call it ... the ability to hear whether a tone is right or not? Even when he was very little he could tell Maman when her piano or her harp was out of tune just by listening to her, and he could sing the correct tone to her."

"Absolute pitch?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"That is what it is called."

"I see. Thank you." Alice smiled, and turned to her brother. "Are you ready?"

"Almost." Laurent said.

Lord Metfield left his children where they were, and sat down on the sofa next to his sister-in-law. He listened to their playing and hoped that there would be many occasions for him to listen to them. If only he could find the person who was playing the ghost, he thought. He strongly felt that the "ghost" was in important clue in the matter, and could not wait to get hold of the man.

Chapter Eleven

Meanwhile, a week had passed since the last sighting of the Metfield Ghost. When, during that week, nothing had happened to alarm the residents of Metfield Hall, everyone from Lord Metfield to the lowliest servant in his kitchen calmed down and went about their business rather cheerfully. There was, apparently, no connection between the sighting of the spirit that haunted the Metfield estate and the accident which had almost befallen his lordship and his heir -- if there had been, surely something must have happened again? Since it did not look as if such another misfortune was to strike the family, the wild rumours died down and most of the servants were willing to leave the house after dark if they had some duty to perform outside its walls. Even Alice relaxed, and set about helping Bernadine to settle into her new home.

She had been with Bernadine when she had first inspected the cottage Lord Metfield had allotted to her, and they were both very pleased with it. It was a handsome, cosy building, in excellent repair, and situated only a short walk from Metfield Hall. Bernadine called it a very genteel sort of place, a certain sign of approval (and, if one knew Bernadine, a compliment of no mean order).

Bernadine furnished it according to her taste, and Lord Metfield paid all her bills promptly and without demur -- forty years of faithful service to his wife and children, he said, had entitled her to the greatest comfort he could give her. He even went so far as to employ a maid to wait on Bernadine. Alice could not help but pity the poor girl, for her job would not be an easy one, but she saw the necessity for Bernadine to have a companion and someone to order about and was glad that her father had seen it, too. It was good to see that Bernadine finally had a place of her own and that instead of having to wait on others she had someone to wait upon herself. Still, although she knew that Bernadine's new home would be an improvement for her living situation, Alice did not like the thought of her leaving. Once she was gone, Alice would lose her sole confidante, for even if she only lived half an hour's walk away Bernadine would not always be available, as she had been so far.

Lady Victoria Daventry, Alice's aunt, had taken to calling at the Hall every two or three days, ostensibly to visit her sister-in-law who was still staying there, but in point of fact coming to see Alice. She turned out to be a charming companion when she chose to be in a pleasant mood, but Alice could not really trust her. Her change of mind had been too sudden -- and inexplicable, in Alice's opinion -- that she could not bring herself to really like her aunt. She was glad that Lady Victoria was behaving as she should, and did her best to hide her distrust of her, but it was there nevertheless. No, Alice thought, neither her aunt Victoria nor her aunt Daventry could ever take Bernadine's place as Alice's chief confidante. Which left Mrs. Trevor.

Mrs. Trevor had become more popular with Alice of late, and for this Bernadine was mainly responsible. It had been Bernadine who had pointed out that Mrs. Trevor was a very good, respectable sort of woman, and that Alice's mother would have liked her a great deal, had she ever made Mrs. Trevor's acquaintance. Alice knew this was true -- had her mother ever met Mrs. Trevor, she was sure they would have become the best of friends. Many of Mrs. Trevor's notions were the same as her mother's, and they shared their taste in clothes and music. There were plenty of things they had had in common, but they would have disagreed on others, Alice supposed. Mrs. Trevor was not as impulsive as Alice's mother had been, and never lost her temper with anyone. Whenever she was displeased, she bore it with quiet dignity until the person who had displeased her apologised. Alice's mother would probably have accused her of a lack of spirits, which Alice doubted however. It was just that Mrs. Trevor had herself well in hand -- a virtue which her mother, may the Lord rest her poor soul, had lacked.

Especially during the last months of her life, Isabelle Daventry had often been out of temper. Alice did not blame her -- her mother had known that her illness was fatal, and though she had for the most part borne it patiently, she had often been dejected and even furious that she should have to leave her loved ones so soon.

One evening, the conversation strayed to that topic, and when their father seemed quite as inclined to talk about his wife as Alice and Laurent were, Alice did answer his questions for once. When Alice mentioned her mother's fits of dejection and ill-temper during her illness, Lord Metfield smiled sadly.

"Isabelle was not born to be a sufferer," he said. "She was a fighter. I should have been greatly surprised had she not tried to fight Death off, and it must have vexed her very much to be unable to do so."

"Oh, she did try," Alice said. "She did. When the doctor gave her six more months she said she'd outlive us all. In the end, the doctor's estimation turned out to have been exact."

"She could be stubborn," Lord Metfield said. "And spirited. I daresay her determination amazed the doctors."

"It did," Alice said, smiling, recalling an occasion when her mother had sent the doctor away and told him to come again when he had better news -- one did not pester a dying woman with dreadful prophecies, she had said.

"Spirited?" Uncle Daventry asked, disbelievingly. "The Ice Queen?"

"Who?" Both Alice and Laurent looked at their uncle in amazement, wondering about whom he was talking.

"The Ice Queen," Uncle Daventry insisted. "Don't you know this was what everyone called your mother?"

"How should they, Frederick?" Lord Metfield asked, in a reproving tone. "It is true, though," he continued, turning to his children. "People called her the Ice Queen because they had no idea what she was really like. She had to assume a cold manner because otherwise young gentlemen would have thought she was fair game. It was her way of dealing with young men who pursued her with their unwelcome attentions."

"Did it work?" Alice asked.

"It did, with most people," Lord Metfield said and, smilingly, added, "though it failed completely with one man."

"Who?" Laurent wanted to know.

"Why, me, of course," Lord Metfield said with a smile. "I just pretended I was not that much interested after all. That made her lower her guard."

Laurent laughed. "She was quite contrary, sometimes."

"There was this incident at my mother's soiree though," Uncle Daventry said. "Her stratagem seems to have backfired." Lord Metfield shot him a furious look.

"An incident?" Alice asked. "An unpleasant one, I gather."

"Very unpleasant. One of your mother's admirers did not take no for an answer, so I had to ... er ... intervene on your mother's behalf." Lord Metfield said. "After that, she could hardly refuse to marry me, and I did not wait for her to change her mind."

"It turned out you should have," Uncle Daventry said dryly. "It would not have been such a long wait." Encountering another glare from his brother, Mr. Daventry picked up a book and started reading.

To end the uncomfortable silence that ensued, Alice turned to Mrs. Trevor. "So now that we know how my parents got to know each other, ma'am, I am curious to hear how you met your husband. -- That is, if you wish to talk about it."

"I have no objection to telling you," Mrs. Trevor said, "if you have no objection to hearing my story. It is not a very spectacular story, however, and I am afraid you will be disappointed."

"Disappointed?" Alice asked. "Why should I be?"

"Because it is such a common, every-day story," Mrs. Trevor said. "You see, Mr. Trevor and I were neighbours when we were children, and we did not like each other too much then. He was three years older than I was and I often vexed him when I wanted to join him and my brother in their boyish games. They always contrived to get rid of me somehow, often using some mean trick, and at one point I began to despise them both. When he was ten years old, he left Sidmouth to join the Navy."

"Ten years old!" Alice exclaimed. "Is this not a very early age for a boy to leave his parents?"

"It is," Lord Metfield agreed, "but quite common in the Navy, I assure you." Alice realised that her father was also listening to what Mrs. Trevor had to say -- quite intently.

"Ten years later I met him again -- he had passed his examination and had been made Lieutenant, and on his way to Plymouth he stopped to visit his parents. I must say he looked very handsome and ... well, he had so many stories to tell. I often told him he only fell in love with me because I was the only girl who would listen to him, no matter how long he talked. He said it was not the fact that I listened to him, but that I really paid attention to what he told me." Mrs. Trevor smiled.

"He only stayed for ten days," she continued after a few moments. "But before he left he asked me to marry him -- not yet, he said, but as soon as he had made enough money to set up house and support a family. There was a war going on, and the chances for him to get promoted quickly and to win prize money were excellent. I said I would wait for him, and off he went for another two years. When he came back home then, we got married." She sighed. "It is not a very romantic story, you see."

"I have often observed that romantic courtships do not always result in good marriages," Lord Metfield said. "I'd certainly put mine into that category."

"Oh, mine was a good marriage on the whole," Mrs. Trevor said. "It was just .... too short. My husband died of malaria at the age of twenty-eight. I often think this was not how things were supposed to have been, but then who am I to judge?"

She turned to Alice, smiling. "Now before I manage to send everyone in here into a fit of depression, would you care to play for us, Lady Alice? We need something to raise our spirits."

Alice immediately complied and went to the pianoforte, and later suggested a game of Speculation to round the evening off. Mrs. Trevor was right -- it would not do to dwell on the past too much. It would only make one's life more difficult, and it was difficult enough as it was.

A week later, still nothing unpleasant had happened. Bernadine's cottage was ready to be moved into, and Laurent and Alice went with her when she did move in. So did Mr. Blake, who said that Lord Metfield wanted to make sure everything was in order and had asked him to see if Bernadine found any fault with her new lodging. She did not, however.

So, after having drunk some coffee and eaten a tarte Bernadine had prepared for her guests the previous day, the three young people set out back towards Metfield Hall. At the gates of the Metfield estate they met Mr. and Miss Goodwin on horseback -- they had wanted to call on Laurent and Alice to see how their riding lessons were progressing.

Alice noticed a hint of coolness in Mr. Blake's manner when he greeted Mr. Goodwin, but when Mr. and Miss Goodwin dismounted and walked up to the house with them, Mr. Blake's aloofness seemed to grow less. He did not talk to Mr. Goodwin very much, but he was not called upon to do so either -- Mr. Goodwin devoted himself to Laurent and Alice, and so it fell to Mr. Blake's lot to entertain Miss Goodwin.

"So, how are your riding lessons going on?" Mr. Goodwin asked.

"I am quite enjoying myself," Laurent said.

"I am glad to hear it," Mr. Goodwin said. "How about you, Lady Alice? Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I am afraid I do not -- not really," Alice replied. "It is safe to say that it will never be a favourite pastime of mine -- my brother calls me hen-hearted because I do not like sitting on a horse. It is ... it is so high up, and I am always afraid of taking a fall."

Mr. Goodwin nodded. "A very natural thing to think for a young lady," he said. "This is one of the reasons why one should learn to ride while one is still a child."

"We did not have the means to keep horses then," Alice said stiffly.

"Oh, I did not mean this as a criticism of your mother," Mr. Goodwin said earnestly. "I am sorry if you got that impression, Lady Alice. It is simply a fact of life -- children do not think about the dangers of what they are doing, so naturally it is easier for a child to learn riding than it is for a grown-up."

"I suppose so," Laurent said, "but surely grown-ups are better at overcoming their fears than children are. So," he gave Alice a teasing grin, "I still think my sister is hen-hearted."

"I am sure I could find a fault or two with you, Laurent, if I tried," Alice said pleasantly.

Mr. Goodwin laughed. "No doubt, Lady Alice. But I hope you will not ask me to interfere if you quarrel with your brother."

"I do not quarrel with him," Alice said, with a mischievous look at Laurent. "Why should I take the trouble, when everyone knows that he is generally wrong while I am generally right? I am the eldest, after all."

Mr. Goodwin laughed, which drew Mr. Blake's attention to them. He had not heard what their conversation had been about, but he did see that Mr. Goodwin was still smiling at Alice, and it seemed to Alice as if he did not like the sight. For a moment he looked as if he was going to say something of a reproving nature, but in the end he refrained from doing so and turned to Miss Goodwin instead. He talked to her about common acquaintances, and seemed to be wholly absorbed in his conversation, had it not been for the occasional furtive glance he gave Alice. Alice encountered one or two of those glances but did not know what to make of them. What had she done that was wrong? Surely he could not object to their association with the Goodwins -- they were well respected in the neighbourhood, after all, and Alice was sure her father approved of their friendship with them. He had not said anything to the contrary, at all events. Even if, for some reason, Mr. Blake disapproved her friendship with the Goodwins, it was not his place to criticise her, she thought indignantly. Should her father, or Mrs. Trevor, advise her against it she would, naturally, follow their advice, but she did not feel particularly bound to rely on Mr. Blake's authority in matters of decorum.

The Goodwins spent half an hour at Metfield Hall before they left again, not without promising to come again the next day, in time for Laurent and Alice's riding lesson.

"Perhaps you will like riding better when there is more company," Miss Goodwin had said, and Alice, too polite to openly disagree with her guest, had said it was certainly worth a try.

So the next day Mr. and Miss Goodwin arrived at the appointed time and, along with Alice, Laurent, Lord Metfield and Rogers, rode to the meadow where their lessons usually took place.

Alice noticed that Mr. Blake and Mr. Drummond were waiting there -- none of them been present at any of their previous lessons, and Alice wondered what they were doing there.

For some time, everything went its usual way -- Rogers attended to Alice, ably assisted by Mr. and Miss Goodwin, while Lord Metfield instructed his son. Suddenly, Laurent's horse reared on its hind-legs, and began to kick wildly into all directions. Laurent desperately held on to his reins, but being the unskilled rider that he was he was not able to hold himself in the saddle for long. He lost his seat, fell hard on the ground and his wild, retreating horse's hooves missed his head only by inches.

Alice watched the incident, trembling, and unable to say or do anything. Miss Goodwin gave a shriek, and even Mr. Goodwin went pale when he saw how closely the horse's hooves had missed Laurent. Lord Metfield, cursing, dismounted and ran to his son, as did Mr. Drummond who, the moment Laurent had fallen from his horse, had vaulted over the fence to come to his assistance. Rogers directed his horse towards Laurent's gelding, and tried to catch the wild horse before any harm could be done. He finally succeeded, but not until Mr. Blake and Mr. Goodwin had come to help him. Alice could not imagine what could have made the horse act the way it had done, for it had always been a remarkably docile animal and this kind of behaviour seemed to her to be out of character -- even though, she had to admit, she was no judge of horses and was not able to say for certain.

When Laurent, with the assistance of his father and Mr. Drummond, got to his feet again Alice began to breathe again. She got off her horse and wanted to walk to him, only her feet seemed to give out under her and she had to grab hold of her saddle to keep herself standing. Mr. Goodwin, realising what she wanted to do, walked over to her and offered her his arm.

By the time they reached Laurent, he smiled again, Alice was relieved to see. Apparently he had suffered no injury.

"It is bad luck, of course," he said to his father. "But never mind. Tell Rogers to bring me my horse and I'll be back in the saddle again."

"I'll tell Rogers to get you another horse," Lord Metfield said, after a look at Laurent's gelding. The animal, though it was under control by now, was still behaving wildly, and Alice would not have wanted to get on its back -- or see someone else do so.

"But you told me not to mind taking a toss but to get back into the saddle immediately," Laurent complained.

"So I did. Take my horse then," Lord Metfield said.

"Why can't I ride mine?" Laurent asked. "He has never done anything like that before! I'm sure I will be fine!"

"I am quite certain too, but I will not let you ride him before I have found out what is wrong with him," Lord Metfield said.

"But...."

"Enough, Laurent." He sounded calm enough, but Alice could discern a hint of impatience and worry in her father's voice.

"I believe Father is right," she said. "We must find out why your horse was behaving so oddly."

"Fine," Laurent said, but he looked rather annoyed. This was the first time his father had crossed his will, and it was not a very pleasant experience. Alice had no doubt that he understood why these measures were necessary, but he did not relish them.

They finished their riding lesson, and then everyone walked back to the stables leading their horses. The Goodwins took their leave in the stable yard, mounted their horses and rode home, while Alice and Laurent walked back to the house with their father, Mr. Drummond and Mr. Blake. Laurent made no demur when Mr. Drummond told him he would like to have a look at his bruises later on, but Alice knew that he did not like being cosseted like a child. She only hoped he was reasonable enough not to do anything foolhardy in consequence of this day's work, and that he would acknowledge his father's authority.

Chapter Twelve

Lord Metfield was sitting in his library with Mr. Blake, waiting for his friend Mr. Drummond to join them. Drummond had gone off to give Laurent a quick look-over -- he did not believe Laurent had been seriously hurt in his accident, but one had better be safe than sorry, he had said, and Lord Metfield had quite agreed. Laurent had not taken kindly to being treated like a toddler, but had submitted to his father and Mr. Drummond's wish in the end. He was too good-natured to refuse to do something that seemed to mean so much to his father and did not require any effort on his side.

While waiting for Mr. Drummond's report, Lord Metfield and Mr. Blake were discussing the incident and how they were going to go on with their investigations.

"Who could possibly want to harm Laurent?" Lord Metfield asked. His son's almost-fatal accident had left him considerably shaken -- though only someone as well acquainted with his lordship as Mr. Blake could tell. He had himself well in hand, and Mr. Blake did wonder what had to happen to make Lord Metfield really lose his poise. Though, to be honest, Mr. Blake rather wished he would not be anywhere near his lordship on such an occasion.

"One would be hard put to find a more amiable youth than him -- yes, I do say that even though I am his father. No one can accuse me of being prejudiced, I have only just made the boy's acquaintance and if he were obnoxious I'd be the first to admit it." Lord Metfield emptied his glass and immediately poured himself some more brandy.

"There are people for whom Laur ... Mr. Daventry's death would be a stroke of good fortune," Blake said cautiously.

"My brother," Lord Metfield agreed. "But, to be honest, Frederick does not seem the murderous type to me. He is squeamish -- has always been. Whenever he sees a drop of blood he faints. You must admit this would be an overwhelming difficulty for anyone planning murder. Apart from that, he was never present when the accidents happened. - What happened to that horse, I'd like to know?"

This question, at least, was soon answered. Rogers came into the library, looking upset, but did not say anything until the door had been closed behind him.

"Well, Rogers?" Lord Metfield asked, giving his head groom an expectant look. "Have you found out what was wrong with the horse?"

"I have," Rogers said grimly. "Someone hurt him." From his pocket he took three stones. They were not large, so one could easily overlook them, but if they were used in combination with a catapult they could do a great deal of harm to anyone who was unfortunate enough to be hit by them. For a moment, Lord Metfield wondered if the assailant had actually meant to hurt the horse - or had he aimed at the rider? On the other hand, it seemed as if whoever was trying to kill Laurent was bent on making his death look like an accident, so perhaps the horse had been the intended target. A horse, almost mad with pain, and an inexpert rider like Laurent on its back -- it was a good plan, Lord Metfield had to admit. It had almost worked, too.

"Is the horse badly hurt?" he asked, trying to appear calm.

"No, he isn't, luckily," Rogers said. "He does have a small wound on his head though -- that's where one of the stones must have hit him. I've tended to it already -- I thought you'd want me to deal with it without drawing the other lads' attention to it."

"Good thinking, Rogers," Lord Metfield said with a grim smile. "I need not remind you that the story remains between the three of us?"

"I won't tell anyone," Rogers said. "But I do hope you'll tell me who fired those stones at the poor horse if you find out. I'd like to have a word or two with that one."

"So would I," Lord Metfield said. "And when I am finished with them I do not know whether they'll be in a fit state to listen to any of the words you are going to have with them."

"Whatever you do to them will be no less than they deserve," Rogers said harshly. "To hurt a poor defenceless animal!"

"Not to mention my son," Lord Metfield said dryly. "Thank you, Rogers. I think you had better go and look after the horse again. I need to have a word with Mr. Blake here."

Rogers bowed, and left. Lord Metfield turned to his secretary.

"It had to be someone who is able to enter the grounds of Metfield Hall without raising suspicion," he said.

"Do you think one of the servants did that?" Mr. Blake asked.

"I really cannot imagine any of them doing this." Lord Metfield said. "Besides, what would they gain?"

"But who else had the opportunity?" Mr. Blake asked. "Apart from family members, that is."

"I do not know. We will have to find out," Lord Metfield said. "The grounds are large enough to allow someone to slip in and out without being seen. But perhaps someone did see something odd -- we will need to look into this more closely."

The door opened, and Mr. Drummond came into the library.

"How is he?" Lord Metfield asked his friend.

"He'll be fine," Mr. Drummond said soothingly. "A couple of bruises, nothing else. He is rather annoyed though -- he thinks you are being over-protective."

"He does not suspect anything then?" Lord Metfield asked.

"If he does he is keeping quiet about it," Mr. Drummond said. "But I do not think he does. From what I have seen, I should say it is not in his nature to think so ill of anyone."

"Thank God," Lord Metfield said.

"There is Lady Alice, however," Mr. Blake said. "She does suspect something -- and has made her suspicions very clear to me."

"We'll have to deny it then," Lord Metfield said. Mr. Blake laughed.

"We'll have to do more than that to convince her," he said. "Simply denying it will not be enough. Lady Alice is no fool, my lord. She will want evidence. Nothing else will satisfy her."

"First of all we will have to make sure that she does not find out what Rogers has told us," Lord Metfield said.

"You told Rogers to keep quiet about the matter, so there should not be too much of a problem," Mr. Blake said.

"She might find out for herself, though," Mr. Drummond said. "To me she looks like the kind of girl who would. You'd better tell Rogers to keep her away from the horse."

"I am afraid you are right," Lord Metfield said with a sigh. "We'll just have to keep a close watch on her as well as Laurent. I do not want her to put herself in danger by trying to protect Laurent -- or by trying to find out what she had better not know. I am afraid this murderer will stop at nothing if anyone gets into his way."

~~~o~~~

Alice was already trying to find out what she had better not know. She was sitting in the drawing-room with Mrs. Trevor, and tried to determine why a horse would suddenly begin to act in such an odd way.

"It was almost -- as if something had suddenly seized the animal," she said, recounting the incident. "Do you think someone could have shot it, Mrs. Trevor?"

"Why, did you hear a shot, Lady Alice?" Mrs. Trevor asked.

"No, I didn't," Alice said.

"In that case no one could have shot the horse," Mrs. Trevor said. "Surely you would have heard."

"I suppose so," Alice said, feeling sheepish. "But it was as if the horse had been hit by something."

"Perhaps something was wrong with the saddle?" Mrs. Trevor suggested.

"But Laurent used the same saddle as always," Alice said.

"Still, something might have happened that made the saddle uncomfortable for the horse," Mrs. Trevor said. "Things like this sometimes happen, you know. It would explain why the horse was suddenly trying to throw your brother off."

"It succeeded, I'd say," Alice said. "It was not merely trying. -- But you do have a point, Mrs. Trevor. I think I will walk down to the stables and ask Rogers to show me Laurent's saddle."

"Do you think this is a good idea, my lady?" Mrs. Trevor wanted to know. "Rogers may well be busy at the moment."

"He is in my father's employ, is he not? So he had better spare a minute or two for me," Alice said indignantly.

Mrs. Trevor smiled.

"What is the problem, Mrs. Trevor?" Alice demanded hotly.

"Nothing, I am sure," Mrs. Trevor said. "I merely thought that you seem to have grown into an authoritative lady very quickly. Would you, in your days in Lausanne, have expected someone to interrupt their daily tasks for your sake as easily as you do now?"

Alice heard the reproof in Mrs. Trevor's statement, and had to admit that she was right.

"I have always been a trifle ... domineering," she admitted. "Perhaps it was not a good thing to come here. It encourages me to indulge in what my mother has always called my chief fault."

"An unfair theory," Mrs. Trevor said calmly. "Considering your ancestry, Lady Alice, you cannot help but be imperious. There are many who do not consider the ability to give orders to people a fault. But you should not go so far as to assume that everyone will be at your beck and call at all times. People need time to go about their ordinary tasks and will not always jump at the chance to perform some more errands for you whenever you ask them to."

"You are right," Alice said. "Perhaps I had better wait until tomorrow."

"Very wise of you," Mrs. Trevor agreed. "By that time Rogers will have had time to find out what really happened to your brother's horse, and will be able to give you a full account."

Alice gave her companion a suspicious, sidelong glance but could not discern any signs of insincerity in her. So either she was a consummate actress, or she really thought it would be better for Alice to wait until the next day before she went to see Rogers. Alice hoped for the latter -- she had only just begun to trust Mrs. Trevor, and would have hated to find out that the lady was not worth the trust she had placed in her.

"I am beginning to wonder whether there is someone who wants to murder my brother," Alice said.

"Good Lord, Lady Alice!" Mrs. Trevor exclaimed, staring at Alice in shock. "Surely not!"

"Appalling, is it not?" Alice said. "Perhaps we would have been safer if we had stayed in Lausanne -- with Monsieur Chaillot, for example."

"I do not believe there is anyone attempting ... attempting to kill Mr. Daventry," Mrs. Trevor said. "And even if there were, which, mind you, I think very unlikely, your father is surely capable of protecting you."

"My father cannot be everywhere at all times," Alice pointed out. "Besides he was with us this afternoon, and he was with Laurent when those roof tiles almost dropped onto their heads. There was nothing he could do to prevent either of these accidents."

"Most unfortunate incidents they were," Mrs. Trevor admitted. "But such things happen and there need not be any sinister reason behind them. Has Mr. Daventry never been hurt in an accident before?"

There had been many occasions, Alice had to admit. Laurent had been a boy like all the other boys in their acquaintance -- he had played wild games, had fallen from trees and broken limbs, had climbed rocks and scraped his knees in the process, and at one occasion he had been bitten by their neighbour's dog. One memorable event had taken place when he had gone boating on the lake with two of his friends and had almost drowned. They had been in the middle of the lake when a thunderstorm had suddenly started, and they had underrated the power of high wind and the waves as well as overrated their own strength. Yes, he had definitely got into scrapes before -- but never had Alice had that feeling of danger, the feeling of something evil going on around them. She had tried to get rid of it -- there was no logical explanation for her feeling. Except, perhaps, the fact that her English relations had been none too happy to receive them. Or her sightings of the "Metfield Ghost", whoever that was. Alice shuddered, and involuntarily looked into the direction of the window. It was getting dark, but to Alice it seemed as if there was a shadow moving across the lawn outside. She hurried to the window, and looked out -- only to see a figure in a long cloak disappear behind one of the clipped hedges.

"It is him again," she exclaimed, and determined to get hold of whoever it was that was terrorising her and her family, she ran out of the room and towards the front door. She had to stop to open the door, however, and as she wanted to step outside she felt someone grab her arm.

"Where do you think you are going, Lady Alice?" Mr. Blake demanded.

"Outside," Alice said furiously. "Let go!"

"I will, if you can give me some good reason to do so," Mr. Blake replied. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

"The ghost," Alice said. "I have seen him again!"

"I see," Mr. Blake said grimly. "And it did not enter your head that whoever it is might be up to no good?"

"It did enter my head," Alice said. "This was why I wanted to catch him, but I daresay he is gone now and we will never find him, thanks to you."

"I think I can live with that responsibility," Mr. Blake said calmly. "While I could not live with it if anything unpleasant happened to you, Lady Alice. Do stay inside -- as you said, we are not likely to find the man any more. He is gone, more likely than not."

"In that case there can be no harm in me going out," Alice said. "I wanted to go down to the stables to see Rogers anyway."

For a moment, Mr. Blake said nothing but gave her a searching look, as if he meant to say something. Yet whatever it was that he had meant to say, he kept it to himself.

"Fine," he merely said. "Let us go then."

"You need not go to the stables with me," Alice protested.

"I am certain your father would not approve of your going there alone," Mr. Blake said firmly. "Not while there is a possibility of a mischief-maker being at large on his property. So either you allow me to accompany you or you will stay here, Lady Alice."

"This is ridiculous," Alice said angrily. "I am not your prisoner."

"I should hope not," Mr. Blake said with a smile. "Which is just as well, since I am not a warder. I am merely concerned about your safety."

"What can possibly happen to me on the way to the stables?" Alice demanded. "On my father's property, to boot?"

"Do you want to argue with me or do you want to see Rogers, Lady Alice?"

Alice realised that Mr. Blake was not going to explain why he wanted to accompany her, or why it could be dangerous for her to come near the "Metfield Ghost". She would have to rely on her own wits, and draw her own conclusions. Whatever it was that was going on in Metfield Hall, Mr. Blake would not tell her. Neither, she suspected, would her father or Mr. Drummond. Mrs. Trevor probably did not know, though it was quite possible that she had suspicions of her own. But, Alice thought bitterly, her father did not seem like the kind of man who would take Mrs. Trevor into his confidence about matters which were likely to distress her. He was too much of a gentleman to do so. Hang chivalry. She wanted to know what was going on here, and she wanted to know at once.

"Let us go then," she said curtly and, before Mr. Blake could say anything in reply, left the house without looking back to see whether he followed her. She was annoyed with him -- she had thought they were friends, and now he was keeping something important from her. This was not how one treated one's friends, and she was going to tell him so at the next possible moment.

When she arrived at the stables, she realised that Mr. Blake was practically at her heels. At least he had not made an attempt to stop her, she thought, and, when she encountered one of the younger stable hands, demanded him to send the head groom to her. Rogers came almost immediately, and asked her with ill-concealed irritation what she wanted.

"I have come to ask you whether you could show me my brother's saddle," Alice said.

"What do you want to see Mr. Laurent's saddle for?" Rogers asked.

"Mrs. Trevor suggested something might be wrong with it when I told her about my brother's fall," Alice said.

"There is nothing wrong with the saddle," Rogers said.

"Nevertheless, don't you think you could procure it for Lady Alice?" Mr. Blake suddenly asked. "Since her ladyship seems to think it is a matter of some importance?"

Rogers gave Mr. Blake a questioning look that did not escape Alice's notice, but finally he gave in. By the light of a lamp, Alice examined the saddle and had to admit that, as far as she could see, there was nothing wrong with it.

"Have you found out what happened to the horse?" she finally asked Rogers.

"No, I haven't," Rogers said. "Could be anything -- horses fret for no reason at all, sometimes."

"But surely my father would not allow my brother to ride a horse that was liable to fretting," Alice said firmly. "Or would he?"

"No, his lordship wouldn't do that," Rogers agreed. "And even if he did, I wouldn't. But one never knows. Horses can't tell us what's in their heads, and we can't read their minds, can we?"

"I wish I could," Alice said angrily. "I'd get the truth out of the horse, even if you were not willing to tell me."

Without another word, she left the stable and walked back to the house, with Mr. Blake following closely behind her. Before she entered the house again, she turned to Mr. Blake.

"What did happen to the horse?" she demanded. "I know there is something -- and I know Rogers told you and my father about it. Do not deny it. I noticed the look Rogers gave you when I asked him about the saddle -- as if he was asking for your permission to talk to me."

Mr. Blake laughed. "Be reasonable, Lady Alice. Why should Rogers ask for my permission to do whatever he likes?"

"Perhaps it runs counter to my father's intentions, and Rogers knows that," Alice said. "So I will have to ask you a different question -- what is my father trying to keep from me?"

"Your father is not trying to keep anything from you, my lady."

"Nonsense." Alice said laconically. She did not believe that for a moment.

"He is merely concerned that recent events had given you a dislike to your new home," Mr. Blake said.

"And so he has decreed that I am not to leave the house unless there is someone there to guard me," Alice said. "What a perfect way to make me love the place! Apart from telling his servants that they are not to answer any questions of mine. Not even you, Mr. Blake! I thought you were my friend!"

"I am your friend, Lady Alice."

"You are not behaving like one," Alice burst out. "One does not lie to one's friends!"

"Sometimes one does," Mr. Blake said. "Whenever it is better for them not to know the truth."

"I see," Alice said slowly. "I suppose that was an answer to my question. There is something my father does not want me to know -- and you agree with him that it would be better for me not to know it. Very well -- if you are not going to tell me, I will have to find out for myself."

She laughed when she saw the expression on Mr. Blake's face. "Don't worry," she said. "I will not leave the house in the dead of night to discover your secrets, I promise. But I'll have you know I am not a little girl any more -- and I am not a fool either. I am well able to put two and two together, and I can be depended on to look after myself. Tell my father so. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go to my room to dress for dinner."
She laughed. "If things go on like this, I won't be allowed to dine with the rest of the family for very much longer. My father will have me locked up as a lunatic before long, won't he? I see things no one else does."

"Not this time," Mr. Blake said.

"What?" Alice exclaimed. This statement was so surprising she quite forgot her manners.

Mr. Blake smiled. "This time your father has seen the ghost, too. Or why do you think was I running for the front door at the same moment you did?"

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