Voices in a Haunted Room by Philippa Carr Read Free Book Online Page B

households. As soon as a girl became nubile, they started to plan for her. Wasn’t my own mother the same? Hadn’t she planned for me? David or Jonathan? she was asking herself. I must not be too hard on Lady Pettigrew. It was only natural that she should want the best for her daughter.
    The musicians were already in the gallery and as soon as the meal was over they would play for dancing. Dickon whispered to me that he was going to make the toast now.
    He stood up and there was silence.
    “My friends,” he said, “you all know what occasion this is, and I want you to drink a toast to our daughter, Claudine, who this day has left her childhood behind her and become that most delectable of beings… a young lady.”
    “To Claudine.”
    As they raised their glasses I noticed that my mother’s attention had strayed and I realized that something was going on in the hall. Then I distinctly heard the sound of rather shrill raised voices. Was it guests who had arrived late?
    One of the servants came in and going to my mother whispered something to her.
    She half rose.
    Dickon said: “What is it, Lottie?”
    There was silence round the table. This was the moment when I should get to my feet and thank them all for their good wishes and propose the toast to our guests which my family would drink. But it was my mother who stood up. “You must excuse me,” she said. “Friends have arrived… from France.”
    Dickon went out with her and everyone was looking at each other in amazement. Then Charlot said: “You will excuse me, please.” And he, followed by Louis Charles, left the dining room.
    “Friends from France!” said Jonathan. “They must be émigrés.”
    “How exciting!” That was from Millicent Pettigrew.
    “Those dreadful people,” said someone else. “What will they do next? They say they will kill the Queen.”
    They were all talking now. It was an excited buzz. I looked along the table to Sabrina. Her face had changed and she looked like an old woman now. She hated any sort of trouble and no doubt she was thinking of those terrible days when Dickon had been in France and she had suffered agonies of fear for her son. But that was over and Dickon had come back triumphant—as if Dickon could ever do anything else!—and he had brought Lottie home with him. We had reached the happy-ever-after stage, and Sabrina did not want to be reminded of what was happening on the other side of the Channel. We were in our cosy corner, apart from strife; she wanted to wrap her family in a cosy cocoon and keep it safe. Any whisper or suggestion of horror should be shut right away. It was no concern of ours.
    Dickon came back into the dining room. He was smiling and I noticed that Sabrina’s anxieties faded away as she looked at him fondly.
    He said: “We have visitors. Friends of Lottie’s… from France. They have arrived here on their way to friends in London. They have escaped from France and are in a state of exhaustion. Lottie is arranging beds for them. Come along, Claudine, say your piece.”
    I stood up and thanked them all for their good wishes and proposed the toast to our guests. When it was drunk we sat down and the conversation was all about the revolution and how terrible it must be for those aristocrats who went in fear of the mob and had to flee their country.
    “So many are getting out,” said Jonathan. “There are émigrés all over Europe.”
    “We shall insist that they put the King back on his throne,” said Lady Pettigrew, as though it were as simple a matter as finding the right husband for Millicent.
    “That might be rather difficult, considering he has lost his head,” Jonathan pointed out.
    “I mean the new one. Isn’t there a little Dauphin… King now, of course.”
    “Young, very young,” said Jonathan.
    “Young men grow up,” retorted Lady Pettigrew.
    “A statement of such undeniable truth that I cannot challenge it,” went on Jonathan.
    I felt laughter bubbling up within me in