“I watched over it,” I said. “See this creeper. It is going from my mother’s to the grave of the unknown sailor.”

“In time,” he said, “it will cover them both.”

He stood up and took my hands in his.

“Thank you for caring for this grave, Tamsyn. I dare say you will think I am fanciful. You see, I don’t know where my father lies and in a way this is a sort of substitute.”

“I understand absolutely. I should feel the same. Rest assured that I will always care for the grave.”

He looked at me very solemnly and I thought: This is the moment. But then I heard someone calling my name. “Tamsyn. Tamsyn, where are you?”

It was Senara.

She was at the edge of the burial ground, dressed in her riding habit. It was of mulberry-coloured velvet and she had a riding hat, rather like a man’s, with a band about it and feather at the back. She seemed to grow more beautiful every day; she was beginning to look very like her mother, but the mysterious look of her mother in her was a vitality which made her more human than her mother could ever be.

She studied us rather mockingly. “Why,” she said, “you are about to ride too. Why should we not all go together?”

Other guests arrived at the castle. When we rode out it was in a large company. My father hunted the deer some miles inland and made up a party. Fenn was in this and they were away two whole days, for the forest was so far that it took them some hours to get there and they were staying the night at a hunting lodge which belonged to a friend of my father’s who was entertaining the party there.

That meant that Melanie and her mother were left for us to look after. Melanie was very interested in the domestic side of the castle. She met some of the servants. Merry said afterwards that she was a very gracious lady and she hoped Master Connell would not be another such as his father.

I was very drawn to Melanie—perhaps because she was Fenn’s sister. Senara dismissed her as spiritless; but then Senara judged everyone by herself.

When the men returned they brought some fine deer with them and these were to be roasted for the grand banquet which would be given on the night before the Landors returned.

In the afternoon of that day Connell and Melanie went riding together. I went with Senara because she was determined to come. I knew that she was not going to leave me alone with Fenn. I could not help smiling, because I was sure that if Fennimore intended to ask me to marry him he would not be deterred by Senara. I was amazed too by the force of Senara’s affection for me, if it was affection. Or was it perhaps the determination that I should not have what she could not?

There was a great deal of chatter in our bedchamber as we prepared for the banquet. Senara’s gown was of red silk and her petticoat of embroidered damask, and the silk divided in the skirt to give an ample view of this magnificent petticoat; her bodice was tightly laced with gold thread; on her head she wore a jewelled ornament which her mother had given her. When she was dressed she studied me. “You look quite beautiful in your blue velvet,” she told me, her head on one side. “Now, Merry, who is the more beautiful do you think?”

Merry looked embarrassed and said “Do not ask such questions.”

“You discomfort poor Merry,” I said. “You know you are so why do you wish to make her say it?”

“It is always good to speak the truth,” said Senara demurely.

What a night that was. The smell of roasting venison filled the castle; the great table in the hall was laden with food of all descriptions; there was beef and mutton besides the venison; and all manner of pies and pastries of which the people of our part of the country were especially fond. Squab and lammy and taddage all served with clotted cream which made them over rich for my liking; I preferred those savoured with herbs and some of the flowers like marigolds and primroses when they were in season. Before the banquet began dash-an-darras, the stirrup cup, was lavishly taken which meant that the company was in high spirits before it reached the table.

There mead and metheglin were freely served, with sloe gin and wines made from cowslips, and gillyflowers. When the company had eaten its fill and the musicians were about to play, my father stood up and said he had news to impart which gave him great pleasure.

“My friends,” he said, “you are this day celebrating the betrothal of my son Connell and Melanie, whose mother and brother are here with us. Alas, that her father could not be here also, but I promise her she will find in me one who is willing and eager to take his place.”

There was a filling of goblets and glasses and toasts were drunk and Connell and Melanie rose and stood beside my father holding hands in the traditional way.

I caught Fenn’s eye and I could see that he was pleased. Indeed everyone seemed to think the betrothal highly suitable.

Then my father called to the musicians to play and he rose from the table and, taking Melanie by the hand, he opened the dance with her. Connell took Melanie’s mother as his partner and Fenn took me. Others of the company fell in behind us and we danced round the hall. Some of our guests remained at the table drinking and watching us as we danced.

I said to Fenn: “This betrothal pleases you.”

“I like well,” he replied, with a pressure on my hand, “that our families should be united. If your brother makes my sister happy I shall be well content.”

“I trust he will,” I answered fervently.

“There has been a restraint between our families because of my aunt’s marriage to your father. It was wrong of my grandmother to blame him for her death. She was somewhat unbalanced and became very strange before she died. But that is over now. Now there will be friendship between us.”

I was happy dancing with Fenn. I felt certain that our families were going to be united by more than that marriage tie.

Then the happiness of the evening disintegrated. Above the sound of the music came the sound of piercing screams. The dancers stopped; so did the musicians. My father cried angrily: “What means this?” But the screaming went on.

The door at one end of the hall opened into the kitchens and it was from this direction that the screaming came. Senara and I were close behind my father as he flung open the door.

Two of the serving-girls were being held up by others and they were the ones who were making the noise.

“Silence,” cried my father.

So great was their fear of him that he could silence them whatever the state of their minds.

I saw that Merry was there. She curtsied and said: “Master, these two girls have seen something terrible.”

All the guests were crowding round the door and my father said: “You’ll be whipped for this. What think you you are doing, disturbing my guests in this way?”

My stepmother had taken charge. She said: “The girls are beside themselves with fear. You had better tell me what has happened.”

“’Twas what they did see, Mistress,” said Merry.

“Let them speak for themselves,” said my stepmother. “Jane. Bet. What was it?”

The two who had been screaming stared at my stepmother with round frightened eyes. But they had recovered their senses. They were as frightened of her as they were of my father—though for different reasons and I had at times wondered which they feared most, the whipping which he would order or the vague terror which the thought of witchcraft could inspire.

“We did see a light, Mistress.”

“A light! What light?”

“’Twas in the burial ground … ’Twas moving hither and thither, like … a ghostly light. ’Twere not natural.”

“Is that all? You saw a light and you make this noise?”

“Bet, she said to me she’d wager I wouldn’t go with her … and I said I would and then we wished we hadn’t, but we went and … oh, Mistress, I dursen’t speak of it.”