“Did you want her to marry that Fennimore?” I asked.

She turned her head away and did not answer. Then she said suddenly: “She wanted your father. In the end it was her choice.”

I did not quite know what she meant by that but I believed the subject was painful to her and I did not want to make her more unhappy than she already was.

I forgot a little of the sorrow I had left behind me at Lyon Court when I was riding along with Fenn. He talked a great deal about the trading company and how they would miss my grandfather. “But it is some years since he went to sea. He was a great sailor. I don’t think he ever quite got over the loss of the Landor Lion. It seemed so strange to disappear like that … after it had been sighted quite near the Sound.”

I was afraid he was going to talk about his father, and although I was very interested I knew it was a depressing subject and I wanted to get away from depression. I kept thinking about my mother who might have married his father and if she had how different everything would be.

It had put an idea into my head which might have been there before. What I mean was that I recognized it was a possibility and it was one which gave me a great deal of pleasure.

What if I should marry Fenn?

I was sure my mother, if she could do so, would approve of this. She had been very fond of Fenn’s father. He must have been very like Fenn; then why had she married my father?

During that ride home I thought now and then of my father. I seemed to see him for the first time. I did not love him in truth, although I had always thought I had, simply because it was the dutiful thing to love one’s father. I was happier when he was away; I kept out of his range as much as possible. He had very little interest in me, I was sure. Connell had always been his favourite. I wondered then why my mother had loved him more than Fenn’s father. He had probably decided that she should. He was the sort of man who made people’s decisions for them. He was hard and cruel, I knew. I had seen men after they had been whipped because they disobeyed him. There was a whipping-post in the courtyard before the Seaward Tower. The servants were terrified of him.

I wondered what Fenn would think of him, Fenn who was kind. That was what I liked about him. He was so kind and gentle too. If he had boys and girls he would never allow the girls to see that he preferred the boys, even if he did. Yet in a way I suppose I was glad my father was not as interested in me as he was in Connell. Connell had had many a beating because he had failed to please my father. I was never beaten because I neither pleased nor displeased.

I was suddenly looking at my home with a new clarity because I was wondering what Fenn would think of it.

My father was at home when we arrived and he and my stepmother came down to greet our guest. I saw the curl of my father’s lip as he studied Fenn, which meant that he did not think very highly of him.

My stepmother smiled a welcome. Even Fenn was startled by her. I tried to look at her afresh. I could not understand quite what that magnetic charm was. She was very beautiful, it was true, but it was not only beauty. There was a sheen about her; it was in everything she did, in her smile and her gestures.

“Welcome to Castle Paling,” she said. “It is good of you to go out of your way to look after my daughters on the road.”

Fenn stammered that it had been his pleasure and was by no means out of his way.

“It’s rarely that we see a Landor within these walls,” said my father. “The last one was my first wife. She would be your aunt, would she not?”

“That’s so,” Fenn replied.

He seemed to shrink before my father, and I felt that old protective instinct, which had amused my mother, rising within me.

I wondered whether my father was going to make sport with him, to trick him into betraying his enthusiasm for the trading company and then show his contempt for it.

My father shouted to one of the servants to prepare a room for our guest and to send another with wine that he might welcome him on his first visit to the castle.

The wine was brought. We drank it and we talked of the death of Captain Pennlyon and the sadness it had caused at Lyon Court.

“A great sailor, my father-in-law,” said my father. “One of the old buccaneers. I’d like to have as many golden crowns as Spaniards he has put to the sword.”

“It was a cruel world in those days,” said Fenn.

“And has it changed? Why, young sir, whether men go in trade or war ’tis all the same. Booty is what they are after and blood and booty go together.”

“We aim to trade through peace.”

My father was laughing to himself. “Aye, ’tis a noble sentiment.”

I was glad when the servants came down to tell us that the room was ready.

“I have ordered that it shall be one of our best rooms,” said my father. “Some of the serving-women will tell you it’s haunted but that will not affect you, I know.”

Fenn laughed. “I’ll swear you have ghosts and to spare in a castle such as this.”

“Ghosts!” said my father. “On the stairways, in the corridors. I’ll tell you, you would be hard pressed to find a room that couldn’t boast of one. This is a castle of legends, sir. A haunted castle. Dark deeds have been done here and some say they leave their mark.”

“I promise you, sir, I fear them not.”

“I knew you would have a bold spirit. Your profession demands it. Though they tell me that sailors are the most superstitious men on the Earth. You tell me, is that true?”

“When they go to sea it is. There are so many evil things that can befall a ship. But those sailors who fear that which is not natural at sea, are bold on land.”

“We are on land but the sea laps at our walls and it would sometimes seem that we are on neither one nor the other. Come, you will wish to go to your room. ’Tis but an hour or so to supper.”

He signed to the serving-girl to show him where he would sleep.

I knew he was being taken to the Red Room.

Supper was a merry meal. My father was in good spirits. My stepmother decided to charm him. She did a little, I noticed with some dismay. She sang a song—in Spanish, I suppose it was. I could not understand the words but it throbbed with tenderness. My father watched her as she sang as though he were bewitched. In fact I think every man present was. I wondered, as I had on many other occasions, what she was thinking.

That night I could not sleep. I kept thinking about Fenn and my grandmother’s hints that I might marry him. I knew that I wanted to. I realized that I loved Fenn and I was the sort of person who would not change. It seemed to me like a pattern. My mother and her Fennimore, both marrying other people to make the way clear for their children.

I was seeing everything with that new clarity which had come to me through the ride from Lyon Court. My home was indeed a strange one. My father accused by his mother-in-law of causing the death of his first wife; his second wife dying mysteriously in her bed; and his third wife a witch.

And the castle—it was a haunted castle, haunted by spectres of the past. There were strange happenings at night. One awoke and was aware of things going on; one had grown accustomed to them and accepted them without asking what they meant. The servants were often uneasy; they were frightened of my father, and those in the Seaward Tower were different from those who attended to our needs in the castle. There were strange comings and goings. I had grown up with these things and had accepted them … until now.

Strangest of all was my stepmother—that foreign woman who spoke so little, who could enchant all men at will—be they young or old; there were strange rumours about her. I knew my own mother had saved her from the sea on Hallowe’en, which, said my practical grandmother, was why the rumour had started.