I unpacked my case, washed, put on a dark red dress, and sat before the swing-back mirror to comb my hair. The mirror was about two hundred years old, I guessed, and the glass was slightly mottled. It seemed to distort my face so that the features which looked back at me did not appear entirely to be my own.

What was the matter with me? I was looking for evil everywhere, I admonished myself. I must forget that scene. But I could not get out of my mind the memory of Else’s lover in that moment when he had risen from his seat and set the riot in motion. There had been what I could only call the look of a predatory animal on his face…mindlessness, unreasoning hatred…in love with cruelty…cold and pitiless.

Matilda Lewyth seemed to be a kindly woman; the house was wonderful…ancient, yes, but so was Caddington, my own home. I did not feel that overpowering aura of the past there; yet it had its histories, its legendary specters as such houses will have, but it was dominated by my loving parents who had completely suppressed such echoes from the past.

I could not shake off this ridiculous feeling even though I reminded myself continually that it was all due to that unfortunate incident at the schloss.

There was a tap on my door and, without waiting for me to answer, Dorabella came in.

She had put on a blue dress and looked very beautiful.

“Oh, Vee,” she cried, using the shortened version of my name. “Isn’t it exciting!”

I could only agree that it was.

A maid came to take us down. She was Myrtle, she told us. She was black-eyed, black-haired with a rather Spanish look. She told us her sister, Tess, worked at the house, too. She spoke with a pronounced Cornish accent, which had a certain melody to it, but was not always easy to understand.

If we wanted anything, either she or Tess would bring it.

“All you do have to do is say, Miss,” we were told.

We thanked her. I noticed her lively eyes examining Dorabella intently while I received only a cursory glance.

We were taken down some stairs along a corridor and down another set of stairs.

“This be the punch room,” said Myrtle. “This be where Mrs. Lewyth ’ull be waiting for ’ee.”

She opened a door and we went in.

Matilda Lewyth rose and came toward us. I noticed a man sitting in an armchair and guessed him to be Dermot’s father. He seemed rather old. Dermot must have been born late in his life as was sometimes the case. One of his legs was bandaged.

Dermot came forward smiling.

“Do come in,” said Mrs. Lewyth. “James…” She turned to the man in the chair. “These are the young ladies.”

We approached the chair. I thought he must be in his sixties. He had rather penetrating eyes, very lively, very shrewd, and I had a feeling that he was regarding us somewhat mischievously, for his chin moved a little, as though he were finding it difficult to suppress secret laughter.

Dermot had come to stand between us. He put an arm through mine as he did with Dorabella.

“Father,” he said. “This is Violetta and this is Dorabella.”

The old man’s eyes were on Dorabella…assessing her…rather boldly, I thought…appreciatively?

“My dears,” he said in a very musical voice, “you must forgive my not rising. This accursed gout. It is devilishly incapacitating at times.”

“It is so kind of you to invite us here,” said Dorabella. “We are really very excited to be here.”

His eyes were turned on me.

“Twin sisters,” he said. “That is interesting. You must tell me about yourselves…sometime…”

Matilda Lewyth came forward.

“Please sit down and tell me what you would like to drink. Dorabella, you sit there near Mr. Tregarland. Violetta…you here.”

My parents arrived then.

“I am glad you sent that nice maid to bring us down,” said my mother. “We should have been lost otherwise.”

I watched the introductions and Mr. Tregarland’s interest in my parents.

When we were all seated we were given our drinks, and the conversation was of that conventional nature which is often employed when people meet for the first time. The differences between Hampshire and Cornwall were discussed, the journey, the state of the government, and all the time I was wondering what old Mr. Tregarland and Mrs. Lewyth were really thinking about us; and whether they were as eager to welcome Dorabella into the family as they seemed to imply.

Then Gordon Lewyth arrived.

I knew who he was, of course, because Dermot had explained the family to us and had referred more than once to Gordon Lewyth; but I was unprepared for such a man.

He was dark-haired and tall—being well over six feet—which gave him a commanding appearance. He was also broad-shouldered, which accentuated that certain effect of power.

Matilda Lewyth rose and cried: “Gordon…my dear.” She went to him and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “Our visitors,” she added.

He shook hands with my father and then my mother.

“These are the twins—Violetta and Dorabella,” said Matilda Lewyth.

His handshake was firm and strong.

“We are pleased to see you,” he said. I wondered if it was a little like the royal “we.” Was he a little arrogant? I wondered. I thought he might be. There was a nonchalance about him, which might have been deliberate, as though he were telling us that although he said he was pleased, that was merely for the sake of convention and he was quite indifferent to our presence.

“Dinner is about to be served,” said Matilda, and I had an idea that we had been waiting for his arrival.

“Then let us go straight in,” he said.

I noticed that his attention was on Dorabella. She seemed a little flustered, but pleased, and aware of his attention. I imagined he was not assessing her charms so much as wondering what such an acquisition to the family would mean.

We went into the dining room. Dorabella was seated between Dermot and his father. Next to me was Gordon Lewyth and on the other side of him my mother.

I noticed his strong hands. He emanated strength, and I wondered what his position was here. It was true that Matilda Lewyth was treated like a member of the family, but I guessed they might be poor relations. Perhaps a deep consciousness of this fact might account for his determination to assert his importance. It was almost imperceptible, it was true, but it was there.

And what was his real position in the household? The son of the housekeeper! Yet he seemed to be managing the estate…with Dermot. If one had not known that, one would think that he was the master of the house.

He talked to my mother and then, dutifully, turned to me. He asked about Caddington and the estate there.

I said: “I suppose there is a similarity about all estates.”

He replied that this was possibly so. But in different parts of the country there must be different ways of going about things. There were hazards…and blessings…of certain climates, for instance, and it was amazing how they could vary throughout the country.

“We have a rainfall which in some ways can be very provoking and in others a blessing. Then there are the strong winds at times along the coast.”

“The estate is very large, I suppose.”

“Not compared with some. Perhaps in this part of the world it would be called large. It extends inland. Being near the sea has its handicaps.”

“Are you very isolated?”

“Not really. Poldown, the little fishing village—a town in miniature—is not very far away.”

“You can see it from the windows, I believe.”

“That’s true.”

“I’m looking forward to visiting it.”

“I doubt you will find much of interest there. I suppose you visit London frequently?”

“Well…occasionally. My uncle has a house in Westminster. When we go to Town we stay there usually. But we are in the country, mainly. My sister and I have only recently left school, so we have been away from home for a lot of the last few years.”