This was the state of affairs on that night.

She must have walked straight into the castle for she came and stood in the room.

For the moment I thought I was seeing the ghost again. Then she spoke.

“I have come back,” she said.

Colum stared at her—as I did.

“Come back,” cried Colum. “Good God. Maria!”

“Yes,” she said. “I come back. I live here again.”

“But …” began Colum.

I stood up. I could feel myself trembling. “Where have you been?” I demanded. “Why have you come back?”

“It is nothing to you where I been,” she said, in her halting English. “It matters not. I am back.”

“You think you can just walk in …” said Colum.

“I think yes. You took my ship … You kill my friends. You owe me home. I stay. Do not try to turn me away. If you do … you will be sorry. You owe me this. I take.”

I said: “This cannot be.”

“Yes,” she answered, “it can.” She was looking straight at Colum.

She was more beautiful than I remembered. She wore a velvet cloak with a hood which fell back to show her shining dark hair which was piled high on her head. Her dark eyes were long, and smiling serenely. There was something unearthly about her. I am dreaming, I thought. This cannot really be Maria.

“I go to my room, my Red Room,” she said.

“You cannot stay here,” I began.

She ignored me and turned to Colum. “My belongings will come soon,” she said. “I stay here for a while.”

Then she left us.

I stared at Colum. “What does this mean? She has gone to the Red Room. This can’t be true. Where has she come from?”

“She will stay here,” he said.

“It is the price you must pay for murdering her people,” I said, “is that it?”

“Say what you will,” he answered. “She shall stay.”

Then he left me there.

And so Maria came back to Castle Paling. The household was agog with rumour. The witch had returned. She could not have timed her arrival at a better time to suit their theory. First she had come on Hallowe’en; a year later precisely to the day she had gone; and now she had returned seven years later on Hallowe’en.

And she lived in the Red Room, that room where the servants had heard strange noises and where I myself had seen—or thought I saw—her ghost.

I sent for Jennet. I said: “Jennet, Maria is back.”

Jennet nodded gravely.

“I dare swear there is talk of her being a witch.”

Jennet nodded again.

“I don’t want such talk to reach the children’s ears. I heard them talking of witches the other day. I don’t want them to be concerned in such things.

“She be Senara’s mother,” said Jennet slowly.

“All these rumours, they must not touch Senara.”

“Nor shall they,” said Jennet.

“I knew I could trust you,” I said.

The servants watched her furtively. If she gave an order they flew to obey her. They were terrified of the evil eye.

She went out riding alone. Once I met her; she did not acknowledge me but galloped off in another direction, her hair streaming behind her. Each day she rode.

It would soon be Christmas and I longed to see my mother. I was very depressed when I heard from her.

My dearest Linnet (she wrote). The Landors are spending Christmas with us. As you know, they have suffered a terrible tragedy. Fennimore is almost certainly lost and the Landor Lion, which was due to arrive home more than a month ago and had been sighted within ten miles of the coast, has not returned. We feared it might have been lost in that fearful storm we had at the end of October. Your father and Captain Landor have much to talk of. The loss of the ship alone is a great blow to them. But that Fennimore should have gone with it is more than his poor mother can endure. She is distraught and I am going to have them here, with poor Fennimore’s wife and children. I shall try to make them forget a little. It means, my dearest child, that we shall have to forgo our Christmas together, for you could not come without Colum and he could not come for reasons that you know. The loss of Fennimore has brought more bitter memories of Melanie’s death. As soon as they have gone I shall come to see you. Or perhaps you will come here.

The days seemed long. It was late before the sun rose and it set so early. “The darkest days are before Christmas,” my mother used to say.

Into the house had crept something evil. I was sure if Edwina were here now she would warn me again.

I could feel it. It came from the Red Room and it menaced me.

Perhaps it was true that she was a witch. Perhaps she had not really been on the ship. Perhaps she had lain in the sea waiting for me to find her. I began to be beset by fancies.

The fact was that Maria was there and none dared tell her to go. I was aware of her growing power over the household—her evil power. Even Colum was caught in it.

What a beautiful woman she was! Perhaps it was evil beauty but it was none the less seductive for that. She seemed to possess many personalities and she would shed them as a snake sheds its skin. That was how I thought of her—as a beautiful sinuous serpent.

The children were bewitched by her too.

“Does Senara’s mother live with us now?” asked Tamsyn.

I said: “She will perhaps for a while.”

“Most mothers live all the time with their children, don’t they? But Senara’s mother is different from all other mothers.”

Senara said: “You are my real mother. She is my dream mother. I like to look at her. But I like best to know you’re there.”

“I’ll always be here if you want me, Senara,” I told her.

Connell said: “She is the most beautiful mother in the world.”

Tamsyn watched me closely, her face growing red. “That’s not true,” she said, and blushed deeper because she was lying. “My mother is.”

Dear Tamsyn, the protector!

How strange that during those days a thirty-year-old woman should turn to a ten-year-old child for protection. Protection! What a strange word to use.

In the matter-of-fact manner of children they accepted Maria’s visitation as natural enough. That the servants talked of it in their hearing I did not doubt, but there she was and they accepted her.

Senara had a strange, beautiful mother who was above normal rules. She suddenly appeared and became part of the household. After a while that did not strike them as odd. Maria was interested in her daughter now, for Senara was like her; one could see the relationship immediately—the same long eyes, the black hair, the perfectly shaped features. But Senara lacked the mystery; she was an ordinary little girl.

Maria was indeed shedding her skin. She was bringing out a different personality than that we had seen during that long ago year she had spent in our household. She was becoming like a normal woman. She visited the schoolroom and listened to the children at their lessons. She petted Senara and gave her presents, for her belongings had arrived and in them were golden ornaments and rich materials. She instructed the seamstress to make dresses for herself and Senara.

Senara was naturally a little vain. Such a beautiful child could not help but be aware of her beauty. She was naïvely proud of it and my dear Tamsyn, who could be called almost plain in comparison, was proud of it too.

I was pleased to see that the coming of Maria had made no difference to their relationship. They shared a bedchamber and were never really content if they were separated for long.

Maria tried to charm my daughter. Sometimes I had a feeling that she was trying to break the great affection between us. She could not do that in the smallest way and I fancied that Tamsyn had grown even more protective towards me. It was almost as though she were aware of some menace in the house. It may have been, though, that I, being aware of this, had become nervous and showed it.

What was most disturbing was the effect she was having on Colum. I could feel the tension rising. I who knew him so well realized that he wanted her as fiercely as he had once wanted me. I could see the smouldering light in his eyes when he surveyed her. She would join us at our intimate suppers. The three of us would be there at the table, the candlelight flickering on our faces—I knew that mine must have been alert and watchful. I knew too that neither of them paid much attention to me.