Voices in a Haunted Room Read Free

Eversleigh—my mother had a serious talk with me.
    It was clear that she was anxious about me. “You are growing up now, Claudine,” she began.
    I did not mind that in the least. Like most young people I was eager to escape the bonds of childhood and to live freely and independently.
    Perhaps living in such a household was a kind of forcing ground. I was aware of the dynamic attraction between my mother and her husband; one could not live in such an atmosphere without being constantly reminded of the powerful effect one person can have on another. That my stepfather was a man of immense physical powers, I was sure, and that he had awakened my mother to an understanding of such a relationship I was subconsciously aware even then, although I did not see this clearly until later. My father—whom I remembered vaguely—had been a typical French nobleman of his age. He must have had numerous love affairs before his marriage, and I was to have proof of that later. But this bond between my mother and Dickon was different.
    My mother was watchful of me, and no doubt because she was growing more and more aware of the power of physical attraction, she saw what was brewing round me.
    She had suggested we walk in the gardens and we sat in an arbour while she talked.
    “Yes, Claudine,” she said, “you’re fifteen. How the time flies. As I said… you’re growing up… fast.”
    She had not brought me here to tell me such an obvious fact, so I waited somewhat impatiently.
    “You look older than your years… and you are in a household of men… and brought up with them. I wish I could have had another daughter.”
    She looked a little wistful. I think she was sad because this great passion which she shared with Dickon had so far been unfruitful. It seemed strange to me too. I thought they might have started a brood of sons… lusty sons, like Dickon himself… or Jonathan.
    “As you grow older… they will realize that you are becoming an attractive woman. That could be dangerous.”
    I began to feel uneasy. Had she noticed Jonathan’s way of trying to be alone with me? Had she seen the way in which he watched me with that look in his eyes which made them glow like two intensely blue flames?
    Then she surprised me. “I must talk to you about Louis Charles.”
    “Louis Charles!” I was amazed. I had not thought very much about Louis Charles.
    She proceeded slowly, and rather painfully I imagined, for she hated talking about her first husband. “Your father was a man who… liked women.”
    I smiled at her. “That does not seem so very unusual.”
    She returned my smile and went on: “And in France they have a slightly different code of morals. What I am trying to tell you is that your father was also the father of Louis Charles. Lisette and he were lovers at one time and Louis Charles is the result of that liaison.”
    I stared at her. “So that is why he was brought up with us!”
    “Not exactly. Lisette was married off to a farmer and when he was killed… that fearful revolution again—she came to us, bringing her son with her. I am telling you this because Louis Charles is your half brother.”
    Understanding dawned. She was anticipating a love affair between Louis Charles and myself. She stumbled on: “So you see you and Louis Charles could never—”
    “Dear Maman,” I cried. “There is no danger in any case. I would never want to marry a husband who looked down on me. Charlot has taught him to do that and he follows Charlot in every way.”
    “It is just a brotherly feeling,” she said quickly. “Charlot is really very fond of you.”
    I was relieved. I had thought she was going to talk about Jonathan—but my relief did not last long, for she continued immediately: “Then there are Jonathan and David. With a household of young men… and one young woman among them… there are bound to be complications. I think both David and Jonathan are very fond of you, and although their father is my husband, there