The Song of the Siren

So we were sure that our guest General Langdon would feel at home in such a household.

At the table on this day were my grandparents, Carleton and Arabella, Edwin’s wife, Lady Eversleigh, and young Carl; Priscilla, Leigh, myself and Damaris. Also present were our neighbors of Grasslands Manor, Thomas Willerby and his son, Thomas Junior, who was about a year or two younger than I. Thomas Willerby was a widower whose wife had died recently. He was very sad about this, for it had been an exceptionally happy marriage. My mother felt the death of Christabel Willerby deeply, for Christabel had been a governess companion to her before her marriage and remained a good friend. There was another Willerby child at Grasslands-a baby girl. She was probably a year old and had been named Christabel after the mother, who had died bringing her into the world. My mother had made the tragedy hers, and the Willerbys were constant visitors at our house. She had insisted that Christabel come to our nursery for a while until arrangements could be made; and Sally Nullens, our old nurse, and Emily Philpots, who acted as governess to the children for years, were delighted with the arrangements. As for Thomas Willerby, he was so overcome with gratitude towards my mother that his eyes filled with tears almost every time he looked at her. He was a very sentimental man.

Both my grandparents welcomed General Langdon warmly and the conversation at the dinner table for the first fifteen minutes was all about the army.

Then Priscilla said rather pointedly, so I knew that she was giving voice to something which had been occupying her mind for some time: “It seems to me that Enderby Hall should not be left standing idle. It never did a house any good to remain empty.”

“True,” said Thomas, always ready to back her up. “They get damp. Houses need fires and people. They need living in.”

“Such a lovely old house,” said Jane Eversleigh. “Though I don’t think I should like to live in it. I get the shivers every time I pass by.”

‘Only because you listen to gossip,” said my grandfather. “If this talk of ghosts hadn’t got around, no one would think of ghosts.”

“Are you interested in ghosts, General Langdon?” I asked.

“I have never seen one,” he said, “and I am inclined to rely on the evidence of my eyes.”

‘Oh, you have no faith,” said Arabella.

‘Seeing is believing,” said the General. “How did the gossip start?

“I think it began when one of the occupiers tried to hang herself. She did not have a long enough rope and was badly injured. She died soon after.”

“Poor woman, what made her do such a thing?”

“Her husband was involved in a plot.”

“The Popish Plot,” said Carl.

“No,” I said, “that was my father. This was the Rye House Plot, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Priscilla, rather uneasily I thought.

“They plotted against the King,” said Carleton. “It was a foolish and criminal thing to do.”

“I cannot understand why people have to do these things,” said Priscilla.

“My dear lady,” said the General, “if they feel something is wrong some men have the urge to put it right.”

“And endanger lives,” said Arabella fiercely.

“Oh, it is all past and done with,” said Carleton. “But that is just how the house got its reputation.”

“I should like to see a nice family settled in,” said my mother. “It is pleasant to have good neighbours.”

She was nervous and Leigh was watching her anxiously. I thought: They have talked about this together. I was sure then that my sister had reported finding me lying on the four-poster; she might even have mentioned that she thought I was talking to someone called Bow.

“It does happen to be my house,” I said. I turned to the General. “It was left to me by my father’s uncle. He was Robert Frinton.”

The General said: “I knew the family. A great tragedy.”

My mother was clenching her hands uneasily. She was very nervous today. It was the General who was making her so.

“There are a few months to go before you can claim possession,” said my grandfather.

“But I don’t doubt that if a sale was arranged it would be approved.”

“I am not sure that I want it sold.”

“Perhaps you like ghosts, Mistress Carlotta,” said the General.

“I should be interested to see one. Shouldn’t you, General?”

“I think it would depend on the ghost,” he replied.

Leigh said: “You should sell it, Carlotta. You’ll never want to live there. But perhaps you could find a tenant and let it.”

I was silent, very much aware of them all. They were tense. I wondered whether the General noticed. For some reason they wanted me to be prevented from going there, wandering through those empty rooms; Damaris must indeed have reported what she had seen and heard, and they would know I was still hoping to find Beau again.

“Think about it,” said my grandfather.

“Do you know, I’ve been pondering in my mind whether or not I won’t give up Grasslands,” said Thomas Willerby.

“Give up Grasslands, Thomas!” cried my mother. “But why?”

“So many memories,” he said, and there was silence at the table.