The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton Read Free

transfixed by the view, so different to the one he had just seen that it was as if they had emerged through the gatehouse into a different time and place. The lawn, for as far as he could see, was divided up by long gravel paths, between which lay broad beds. Spikes of new growth were pushing through the earth and bright green tendrils curled up a pergola. At the far end of one of the paths was a spreading mulberry tree and under it thousands of tiny spring flowers were in blossom. To the right the grass fell away steeply, and the distant sound of water suggested that there was a lake below, in the deep depression, out of sight. From a terrace the lawns ran to a haha which formed the boundary of the new maze: Laurence could just make out the low dark curve of spaced plants.
    The terrace, broken by three sets of steps, each elaborately decorated, gave on to the garden. Laurence was fascinated by the perfectly realised small stone creatures, each different and not yet worn away by time, carved at the corner of each step of the flight nearest him. They were so exceptional that he could only wonder at who had created them. Voices behind him cut short his speculation.
    Two dark-haired women came towards him. That they were sisters was obvious but their colouring was very different. Lydia, he assumed, as she looked older and carried a slender walking stick—was very slim with a pale complexion. Her long hair was streaked with silver. By contrast, Frances was darker skinned, with almost black hair and eyes. Her hair was short and she wore what looked like a man’s Norfolk jacket. Eleanor gave him a conspiratorial look, which he thought Frances caught. Both sisters were smiling warmly and Lydia took his hand in hers.
    ‘It’s wonderful you could come. So very good of you to spare the time.’
    Frances shook his hand only briefly but seemed to watch him more closely, he thought.
    He was led through the main entrance, its heavy door was already open. The floor inside was paved in red, white and grey lozenges and warmed by the sunlight coming in through large windows to both sides of the door. A console table bore a large vase of narcissi and irises.
    Laurence’s first impression of the interior of the house was entirely at odds with the forbidding building he had seen as the car came down the drive. His spirits lifted in response to the light and ease around him.
    At the far end broad stone stairs rose and curved round to the gallery of an upper floor with a green baize door half hidden below it. Almost immediately a young girl in a print apron appeared from behind that door. She nodded her head shyly, pushing her mousy hair out of her face.
    ‘Laurence, this is Maggie. Maggie Petch,’ Frances said. ‘She lives on the estate and we’re lucky enough to have her help with the house. She’ll show you to your room and David will bring your cases up. Perhaps you’d like to join us in the library when you’ve rested?’
    Laurence’s bedroom, on the south side of the house, offered a fine view over the garden. Opening the window he could just see the edge of a churchyard and a few small gravestones. To his right a flash of water indicated the lake he’d guessed was there, although most of it was hidden in a dense thicket of trees. In the far distance he could make out a narrow river, presumably the Kennet. But what took his interest was the delicate pattern of the maze. From up here it looked as if it might have been painted on to the lawn but its symmetrical convolutions were quite clear.
    His case was already standing at the end of his bed. He unpacked his paltry belongings in case a maid came up to do it for him while he was downstairs, exposing the limitations of his country-house wardrobe. Apart from anticipating possible surprises in the weather, packing a dinner jacket and a country tweed suit that he rarely wore and which he now noticed smelled strongly of camphor, he had brought little. He placed William’s letter in a