‘I have been lunching today with a niece who is staying with them, and she says he really isn’t supposed to be mentioned. The old maid told her he had run off with money and a diamond brooch, and she mustn’t speak of him because the Miss Benevents had been so dreadfully upset about it.’

Miss Silver was silent for a moment, after which she asked no more questions about Alan Thompson, but to his subsequent surprise he somehow found himself talking to her about Candida. He did not realise the fact that he had arrived at the point where it was not only extremely easy to talk about her, but quite difficult to avoid doing so. To this frame of mind there was added an as yet undefined uneasiness on her account. The Miss Benevents depressed him, Underhill depressed him. To think of Candida in association with them produced a feeling of repulsion. Old thoughts, old images rose from the deep places of his mind. They did not quite break surface, but they were there – something about children of light and hidden works of darkness – all very vague, coming up out of the depths and going down into them again.

Miss Silver said, ‘You do not really like her being there, do you?’ and he had no more than time to say, ‘No, I don’t!’ when the door opened and Louisa Arnold came in, pushing an elegant tea-wagon. Stephen sprang up. Louisa was voluble on the subject of how long the kettle had taken to boil, and it was only afterwards that it occurred to him that Miss Silver had taken a great deal for granted. She had, for instance, assumed that he had not only a special but a proprietary interest in Candida, and his reply had admitted as much. The odd thing about it was that not only did he not resent this admission, but that it should give him a feeling of exhilaration. All the time Louisa Arnold was explaining that the coffee service was Georgian and quite valuable, and that the cups had belonged to the Canon’s mother, this feeling persisted.

‘She was a Miss Thwaites and she came from Yorkshire. That is her portrait over the bookcase. Those tinted drawings were all the fashion in the 1830s and ’40s – just a little colour in the lips and eyes, and some dark shading in the hair. Ladies used a stuff called bandoline to get that very smooth effect. You see it in the very early portraits of Queen Victoria. My grandmother had naturally curly hair, but her daughter, my Aunt Eleanor, never discovered it until her mother was over eighty. She had kept it banded down all her life, and do you know, it still curled! My aunt persuaded her to let her fluff it up, and I can remember her with lovely silver waves under a lace scarf.’

It was some time before Stephen could stem the tide, but they reached the Miss Benevents in the end. Once there, she was profusely reminiscent.

‘Oh, yes, we used to play together as children. They were brought up in rather a peculiar way, you know. Their mother had one of those long illnesses, and their father was rather a frightening person – so different from my own dear father, who was the soul of kindness. Olivia always had the upper hand of poor Cara, even though she was nearly three years younger. Candida used to stick up for her, but it wasn’t much good, you know. When anyone has such a yielding disposition you can’t really do much for them, can you? Candida was the middle one. She wasn’t much like the other two – taller, and not so dark. I liked her much the best of the three. But she ran away with a curate who came to do temporary duty at Stockton, which is just on the other side of the hill. Papa’s friend, Mr. Hobbisham, was the Vicar, and he was dreadfully upset about it. Now what was the young man’s name – would it have been Snail?’

Stephen laughed.

‘I expect it was Sayle!’

His Cousin Louisa beamed upon him. She had pretty white hair, surprisingly blue eyes, and a pink and white complexion.

‘Yes – so it was! How clever of you, my dear boy! Candida met him at a concert which was got up by the Dean’s sister in connection with a Chinese mission. He had a very nice tenor voice, and she was playing all the accompaniments. Candida, I mean of course, not Miss Wrench, who was a woman I never did care about and a terrible thorn in Papa’s side, because nobody could possibly help seeing that she was doing her best to marry him, and she was such a determined person that there was always a chance she might succeed, poor darling – and I’m sure it would have killed him. Now let me see – where was I?’ The blue eyes gazed at him trustfully.

‘Candida Sayle.’ It gave him pleasure to say the name.

‘Oh yes – of course! She married Mr. Sayle, and Mr. Benevent quite cut her off. I know Papa considered it very harsh of him, because Candida was of age, and there was nothing against Mr. Sayle’s character. He even had a little money of his own – not very much, but enough to help them along until he got a living. I believe he had the promise of one when they were married. But Mr. Benevent wouldn’t allow Candida’s name to be mentioned, and I didn’t see so much of the other two after that, because she was always the one whom I liked the best. And if it is her grand-daughter who is staying at Underhill I should very much like to see her.’

Stephen felt tolerably certain that he had not mentioned Candida whilst Louisa Arnold was in the room. He said, ‘Oh, yes,’ and waited for more. It was forthcoming.

‘Now who was it was telling me? Someone at the Ladies’ Guild – not Miss Smithers or Mrs. Brand – I think it must have been Miss Delaney, because it is connected in my mind with a knitting-pattern for a cardigan, and it was Miss Delaney who gave me that. She said the quarrel must be made up, and about time too, because the girl was staying at Underhill and she had her grandmother’s name. Now of course she would be able to tell us what Maud is anxious to find out on behalf of Mr. Puncheon, whether anything has been heard about Alan Thompson. Living in the house, she would know whether they speak of him at all.’

‘I gather they don’t.’

Louisa Arnold opened her blue eyes very wide indeed.

‘How very extraordinary! But Olivia had a most determined nature. He must have offended them very much, for they really were quite foolishly devoted to him. In fact people did say – well, I hardly like to repeat it, Papa was so very strict about gossip and there is always a good deal in a cathedral town – but they did say that no one would be surprised if Cara were foolish enough to marry him.’

Miss Silver said, ‘Dear me!’

Louisa Arnold nodded.

‘There was quite a lot of talk – I heard it myself. Of course there was the difference in age, but you do hear of such things, do you not? There was the Baroness Burdett-Coutts – I remember Papa telling us how displeased Queen Victoria was. And to come down to quite a different walk of life, old Mrs. Crosby who had the sweet shop in Falcon Street was married again within the year to quite a young man who came round as a traveller. They ran the business together and made a very paying thing of it. People said it wouldn’t come to any good, but they seemed to get on quite well. But Olivia would never have let Cara do anything foolish. And now of course there is this other young man, Derek Burdon, but I believe he calls them Aunt, which is a great deal more suitable. Only of course it wouldn’t be easy for them to provide for him unless they can do it out of their savings, because if anything happened to Cara, this grand-daughter of Candida’s would come in for everything.’

Miss Silver stopped knitting for a moment. Her hands rested on the four steel needles and the half-finished stocking.

Stephen said sharply,

‘Not Miss Olivia?’

Miss Arnold shook her head.

‘Oh, no, I believe not. It has always been a sore point. Everything was quite strictly tied up by their grandfather. I remember Papa saying that it was all very well for Mr. Benevent to talk of cutting Candida off, but nothing he could do would prevent her or her children inheriting if Cara died without marrying and having children. So he said the quarrel was not only unchristian but foolish.’