Dear old Nanny Crabtree. I’m glad she is here. She makes me feel…comfortable.

What I want most is for you to come. It won’t be long now. By the way, tell Mummy I am thinking of names. I have decided to keep up the opera tradition. If it’s a boy, it’s to be Tristan, if a girl Isolde. Ask her if that will suit her. I don’t think she is as fond of Wagner as she is of our two. But it will be particularly appropriate as these are Cornish names…and Nanny Crabtree’s baby will be half that.

When I told my mother about the suggested names she was amused.

“I like that,” she said. “They are both lovely names. I wonder what it will be. Your father doesn’t mind much what sex it is as long as they are both all right. Nor do I, for that matter. Perhaps a boy would be nice. They would like that down there, I expect.”

She was looking at me wistfully, and I felt that faint, embarrassed irritation when I saw matrimonial plans in her eyes. It might be that she believed I must be very lonely without Dorabella.

There was little thought now of anything but the baby. We went to London to stay with Edward and, of course, saw the Dorringtons.

I had a chance of telling Mary Grace about Dorabella’s reception of the miniature and that, just as I had thought, she wanted Mary Grace to do a picture of her.

“I expect you persuaded her,” said Mary Grace.

“I can assure you Dorabella makes up her own mind. She thinks you have genius and she can’t wait. That is why I wanted to make sure of that other frame. When the baby is born you must come down. You’ll find Cornwall quite interesting.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“And you will come to Cornwall and do the miniature?”

“I want to…more than anything. It has been marvelous.”

“We’ll get the frame tomorrow and make sure we have the pair.”

It was a successful visit. There was the usual excitement of shopping and we went to a theater and to supper with the Dorringtons.

Gretchen seemed a little more serene. She was preoccupied with the coming baby. It was not due until April but already it absorbed her. I was so glad, for it undoubtedly took her thoughts away from the anxieties she felt about her family.

We could not stay long, for, as my mother had said, we had to prepare for our visit to Cornwall.

“I want to be there in good time,” she said. “Dorabella will feel happier if we are around. When it is all settled down, I shall have to come back. I can’t leave your father too long. He hates to be alone, though he never complains. You might like to stay on a little, and if Mary Grace is going to be there, you would want to be there, too. We shall have to make plans for Christmas. I suppose we shall have to go there. Nanny Crabtree would never allow such a young baby to travel. We seem to be spending our lives on trains these days. I thought the Dorringtons rather hinted that we might spend Christmas with them.”

“Oh, we should have to be with Dorabella.”

“Of course. But I wish she were not so far away.”

And in due course we were traveling down to Cornwall. It was a dark November day and as the train carried us into the West Country the light was fading. It would be dark by the time we arrived.

Dorabella flung herself at me and clung to me. She was very emotional. The birth was clearly imminent; she was quite unwieldy and, I could detect, a little scared.

Then she clung to my mother, who was very reassuring.

Nanny Crabtree welcomed us with restrained pleasure.

“It’s going to be a boy,” she said. “I can tell by the way she’s carrying it. That Mrs. Lewyth said she thought it would be a girl. ‘A girl, my foot,’ I said. ‘She’s carrying a boy if ever I saw a boy being carried.’ ”

“Well, I hope little Tristan comes punctually.”

“Tristan!” snorted Nancy Crabtree. “What a name! What’s wrong with a nice Jack or Charlie?”

“Nothing at all,” retorted my mother, “except that Dorabella has decided on Tristan.”

Nanny Crabtree clicked her tongue. At least she could not have her way over that.

Dorabella showed us the now completed layette and told us what arrangements had been made.

The midwife was coming as soon as Nanny Crabtree gave the call and there would be the doctor, too; and Nanny Crabtree would be on hand to welcome the new arrival.

“Everything is ready,” put in Nanny Crabtree. “I’ve seen to that. Now all we’ve got to do is wait for the little darling.”

That was what she was longing for. Then she would be rid of the midwife and the doctor and herself be in complete command.

Dorabella was a little exhausted and went to bed immediately after dinner. We did not see Dermot or Gordon. Matilda told us that they had both gone to some landowners’ conference which was being held in Exeter. They would be away for two nights probably. “Dermot wanted to cancel it when he heard the day you were coming, but Gordon thought they could not easily do that, nor that he should go without Dermot,” Matilda told us. “And the baby is not due for a few more days, so he knew you would understand.”

“Of course,” said my mother. “He can see us when he gets back.”

My mother came to my room for a little chat after we had retired.

“Well,” she said. “I think everything is in order.”

“It seems so.”

“Matilda is very good. I did think Nanny Crabtree might have made some difficulties, but Matilda is the soul of tact and seems to realize what a treasure she is, so long as you don’t mind her ways.”

“Yes, I think Matilda likes a peaceful life.”

“As for the rest of the servants…well, Nanny Crabtree would be on her own and wouldn’t come into contact with them very much. The nursery is her life. That’s why the baby couldn’t have a better nanny. Well, all we have to do is wait for the day.”

“I think Dorabella is getting a little scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be? It’s her first and she isn’t sure what she has to face. She’ll be all right. She’s strong and healthy, and we’ll make sure that everything that can be done will be.”

“That’s a comfort.”

“I’m glad you’re here. A pity your father couldn’t be with us. But he wouldn’t be much use in the nursery.”

“He’d be a comfort and it’s always good to have him around.”

My mother nodded and smiled. “That’s true,” she said. “But there is the estate, and we do seem to be on the move all the time. When the baby has grown a little, she’ll be able to come to us and there won’t be all these journeys.” She yawned. “It’s been a tiring day. I’m exhausted. I think it is time I was in bed. You, too.”

We said goodnight and she left me.

I was indeed tired. I got into bed and lay for some time listening to the murmur of the sea. Why did I always feel there was something a little uncanny about this place?

I dozed and awoke with a start. I heard the creak of a board and I knew that I was not alone. Someone was in my room.

My heart was beating wildly. I was not yet fully awake. I had been startled out of some dream which had vaguely filled me with foreboding.

I sat up in bed, peering at the furniture which I could see in the faint starlight.

Dorabella came out of the shadows to stand by my bed.

“I’ve frightened you,” she said. “I did not know you’d be so easily scared.”

“Dorabella! What are you doing?”

“I couldn’t sleep…then I had this dream…it’s not the first time. It terrified me.”

She was wearing a light dressing gown over her nightdress and her hair was loose about her shoulders.

I said: “You’ll get cold.”

“I had to come and see you.”

“You can’t stand there.”

“No,” she said. She took off her dressing gown, flung it onto a chair, and got into my bed.

There flashed into my memory those days when we had been away from home…on some holiday…or visiting people. If she had been put into a different room she always came into mine. She would say, ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ or ‘I’ve had a bad dream.’ At home we had slept in the same room…in two beds fairly close together. As she snuggled close to me, I was reminded of those long-ago days.