The adulteress

It was the day of the fair. I had been seeing Gerard every day. I had felt I had to make some amends for my lack of trust in him and from then on our friendship seemed to grow. I think he must have known that I suffered some qualms of uneasiness, wondering whether it was right for a married woman to see so much of a man who was not her husband. He stressed that we were, as he put it, birds of passage, implying that our association was an interlude in our lives. Very soon we should have to go our separate ways but there was no reason why we should not take with us pleasant memories of our meetings.

I think this acted as a sort of palliative. I would remind myself of it on those occasions when quite suddenly the thought would come to me that my friendship with this man was becoming too deep, too involved and was different from anything that had ever happened to me before.

And so to the day of the fair.

I think the whole of the community must have gone. Jessie went off with Amos Carew. Uncle Carl insisted. He was tired, he said, and wanted to rest. Most of the servants had gone and after the midday meal all those who were not already at the fair left the house.

It was, Jessie had explained to me, the event of the year—or the half year, as it came twice—and everybody had to make the most of it. "You'll be looking in, I daresay," she said to me.

I said that I would.

I had arranged to meet Gerard. He had said nothing about the fair but I figured he would like to have a look at it.

He met me just beyond the shrubbery and our steps led up past Enderby.

He said: "I think everyone from the house has gone to the fair today. It seems so different without them. I'd like to show you the house. Have you ever gone through it?"

"No. I've heard about it but it was sold before I was born. My mother lived there as a girl but her aunt, who had brought her up, died and her husband was heartbroken. He was drowned and I don't think anyone was sure whether it was suicide or an accident. Neither my mother nor her cousin Sabrina, who lives with her, ever wants to talk about it very much."

"Come and take a look," he said.

"I thought you would want to go to the fair."

"I'd rather show you the house. You ought to see it and now that there is no one here there is an opportunity. Besides, it seems different when it's empty. It has a great deal of atmosphere."

He had taken my arm and was drawing me toward the house. I was reminded of my dream when I had fancied something had been warning me. I knew that when I had dreamed that I had imagined I was in that house, but I felt myself drawn on by an irresistible impulse and yet I was aware of another part of myself warning me not to enter that house of ill omen.

He had opened the door and we stood in the hall. It had a vaulted ceiling and fine paneling. I had seen many halls like it and yet there were shadows here. In the stillness I felt my heart start to beat so fast that I could almost hear it. He put an arm around me. I drew back and he said: "You looked ... vulnerable ... as though you need protection."

I laughed but it sounded hollow. "I am really quite well able to look after myself."

"I know it." He was looking at me intently. "You would never do what you did not want to."

My eyes had strayed to the minstrels' gallery.

"Yes," he said, "that's one of the haunted spots. There are many of them. I've discovered that the servants won't go into the gallery alone. Come, Zipporah, let us defy the ghosts."

He took my hand and we mounted the stairs.

There was a carved door. It creaked as he opened it.

"Come," he whispered and I stepped with him into the gallery.

"It's colder up here."

"That's the spirit," he said. "The ghosts come from the dead."

He took my chin in his hands and looked into my face.

"You're a tiny bit scared," he said. "Oh yes, you are, my practical common-sensical Zipporah. Confess it, you are a little affected by Enderby."

"Are you?" I asked.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "I like it. It's no ordinary house, but who wants an ordinary house? When I am here I say to myself: Is it true? Do the spirits of those long dead sometimes return to haunt the scenes of their sins ... or their triumphs? Who can be sure? No one can. That's the exciting thing about it. It's mystery ... wrapped in mystery, and one is never sure whether one is going to find the answer. Don't you find that fascinating?"

"Yes, of course."

We stood at the rail looking down at the hall. "It's full of shadows," he said. "Why?"

"Because of the trees and shrubs which grow too close and too high. Cut them down and have lawns all about the house and the light would be let in."

"Perhaps the ghosts wouldn't like it. Come on. Let me show you the rest of the house."

"Where are the people who live here?"

"They are away. It is lent to me in their absence."

"It was very convenient for you."

"Oh very. I couldn't have found a more pleasant spot."

"But it is so far away from London."