When I told Grand'mere she was overwhelmed first with joy, then with anxiety.

"We shall have to take special care of you," she said.

Cassie was delighted. "A baby," she cried. "A dear little baby. Oh, isn't that the most wonderful thing?"

And it was. It changed me. It helped me to forget. Long periods of the day were spent in planning for the baby, talking of babies. Grand'mere remembered the birth of my mother. The servants' attitude changed. They looked forward to having a little baby in the house.

The serenity of pregnancy settled on me. My mind was now given over to such matters as layettes and the kind of cradle I should need. I was absorbed by it all. I was now to be a mother.

Lady Sallonger was a little peevish. She did not like the disruption of the household but it did give her an opportunity of recalling the terrible time she had had at Cassie's birth, which was perhaps not the most tactful conversation to indulge in with an expectant mother present.

The summer slipped away and autumn was with us.

Julia had found a husband. He was thirty years older than she was and he drank heavily; but he had one redeeming feature: he was rich. The Countess was overjoyed. At last her task was completed; and she passed on to her next client.

I was now finding exercise difficult. I used to sit in the garden when the weather permitted either with Grand'mere or Cassie, and our talk would be all of the baby.

I was in good health, the doctor said; and I was strong. All would be well.

A midwife was engaged; she would stay at the house until the appointed time. I was counting the days now. I felt everything would be different when my baby was born.

It was on a bleak February day when Katharine appeared. She was scarcely a beauty; she had a wrinkled cross-looking face, some spiky fair hair and a snub nose; but I thought her perfect; and each day she changed until in a week she was beautiful.

I had rarely seen Grand'mere so happy. Cassie thought it a great honour to be allowed to hold her. Lady Sallonger said I must have a nanny to give me more time to myself-which meant for her, of course; but I wanted to look after my baby myself.

"Nonsense," said Lady Sallonger, "only servants and those sort of people do that."

But I was adamant. This was my child. My consolation and entirely mine.

There was so much to learn that my time was fully occupied. I was glad that this was so. We called her Katie-Katharine being too dignified for such a tiny creature. And when I held Katie in my arms and watched her change every day, saw her first smile and that recognition which told me that she knew who I was and that she felt safe and happy when I was close . . . they were my compensation.

With Katie I could grow away from my grief. She was more than my beloved child; she was my reason for living.

The Salon.

Katie was a year old when I decided I could no longer go on living at The Silk House. I had always felt that I was there on sufferance. Lady Sallonger could not forget that I was the granddaughter of a woman who worked for the family-as Grand'mere still did. Her machine worked doubly as hard now for she was constantly making little garments for Katie. I was expected to perform certain duties for her ladyship. I was still reading to her, fetching and carrying and making sure that she had her comforts. It was true Cassie was treated in the same manner, but although I was now her daughter-in-law, I was still made to feel like the poor relation.

She resented the time I spent with my daughter. If Katie needed me during one of the reading sessions, Cassie would come and take over from me-which did not please Lady Sal-longer at all. I was really feeling very restive even before the fracas with Charles.

I had always known that he had some special feeling for me. There had been that occasion long ago when he had tried to make love to me and, of course, the affair of the mausoleum which had ended in his humiliation. I had an idea that Charles was the type of man who bore grudges. In which case he would remember the immersion into the lake and blame me for it. I had often found him watching me and that made me very uneasy.

In spite of being preoccupied with Katie's needs, I still thought a great deal about Philip's death, and the more I thought of it the more I remembered of Lorenzo; and I was becoming absolutely convinced that the assassin's knife had been meant for Philip.

I had made a habit of walking in the forest to that spot where his body had been found. The trees grew thickly there. I wondered whether that was the actual spot where he had died or whether his assailant had dragged his body there.

Everything had pointed to suicide. The position of the gun ... the fact that it was one of the guns from the house . . . But even in the face of all that evidence, I still refused to believe that he had killed himself.

I knew that my theories would not stand up to the light of reason. Even Grand'mere believed there had been some dark secret in his life which he could not bear to have exposed; and she dismissed the death of Lorenzo as coincidental.

"You have to look straight at life," she said, "to see it as it is, not as you would have it. That is the only way to pick oneself up and go on."

So I kept my thoughts to myself. One day I would find some means of discovering. How? When? asked my common sense. But I refused to listen to reason. One day I would know the answer.

I did not know why I thought I might find it in that spot where his body had been discovered. He was now lying in the mausoleum with his ancestors. If he could come back and tell me, it would be more likely that I could get into communication with him in this spot.

It was like visiting a grave. I thought: If these trees could speak they could tell me the truth. I used to look up into their leafy heights. "How did it happen?" I whispered. "You must have seen."

It was there that Charles came upon me.

"Hello, Lenore," he said. "You come here often, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Why? Is it a sort of pilgrimage?"

I shook my head and turned away, uneasy as I always was in his presence.

He caught my arm. "Don't go," he said. "I want to talk to you."

"Yes?"

"You must be feeling very lonely."

"I have my daughter . . . my grandmother."

"But missing Philip?"

"Of course."

"I always envied him."

"Envied him? Why?"

"I envied him you."

''I think I should go in."

"Not yet. Lenore, why are you so stubborn?" He pulled me towards him and held me firmly.

"I want to go back to the house," I said.

"Not yet." He smiled and kissed me. "Still a bit of a spitfire, eh?"

I struggled free. "Charles, I will not tolerate . . ."

"You must be lonely. I could change that."

"I told you long ago. You know what happened then."

His brow darkened. He was remembering Drake Aldringham, the magnificent friend whom he had been so proud to bring home and the manner in which Drake had left the house.

"You give yourself airs," he said. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I am Lenore Sallonger, your brother's widow."

"You managed to catch him. He was easy prey, wasn't he?"

"How dare you say such things!"

"Oh?" he said looking about him. "Do you think I'm afraid of ghosts? This is where they found him. Why did he do it, Lenore? What did he find out about you? Why? You must know if anyone does."

I turned to go but he caught me again. "I have always had a fancy for you," he said. "There's something deep in you. I want to find it. I want to know what caught Philip and what made him take his life. I know it was because of you,"

"It was not. It was not," I cried.

There was a struggle. He was pulling at my blouse. Suddenly my rage gave way to terror. He had a distorted mind. I knew what was in it. He wanted to make love to me here . . . where Philip's body had been found. There was something macabre about it; something which appealed to his warped notions. I fought wildly. He was stronger than I. I prayed to myself: Oh God, save me. Help me escape from this evil man.

"You're not getting away now," he said. "Why should you? You come to our house . . . you live in luxury. . . . You have to earn it, Madam Lenore. Don't be a little fool. You and I were made for each other. We are two of a kind."

My strength was failing. He had thrown me to the ground and was ready to leap upon me.

"Lenore!" The voice broke in on my terror like a sign from heaven.

It was Cassie. She had come to look for me. Oh God bless Cassie, I thought.

Charles stood back abashed, furious. I scrambled to my feet trying to adjust my torn clothes.

Cassie came into view.

"I guessed you'd be here. Why, Lenore . . . Charles . . ."

"Cassie," I said, "thank God you came. I'm going back to the house now. Come with me."

Together we walked back through the forest, Charles standing there, staring after us.

Cassie was horrified.

"He . . . he was attacking you?"

"Cassie, I shall never cease to be grateful to you for coming when you did."

"I'm . . .so glad. It was horrible. Charles ..."

''I think Charles has always hated me in a strange way. I can't talk about it."

We reached the house.

"I have to see Grand'mere right away," I said. "You come with me."

Grand'mere was in the workroom. When she saw me she gave a little cry of horror. I fell into her arms. I was near hysteria. I stammered: "It was Charles. Cassie came in time or I think he would have ... He was vicious. It was at that spot . . . where Philip was found. I think he found some satanic satisfaction because it was there."

"He did this to you? He tore your clothes?"

I nodded.

"You must tell me all about it."

"Cassie saved me," I said.

"I went to look for Lenore," said Cassie. "I know she goes there often. So I went and I saw ..."

Grand'mere poured one of her concoctions into three glasses.

She said: "We have all had a great shock and what we have to do is think of what our next action will be."

Cassie looked from one to the other of us.

''I cannot stay in this house,'' I said. ''It is his house. I would never feel safe again."

Grand'mere was nodding. "I have been thinking of this for some time," she said. "I have always known that we could not stay. Katie is now a year old and we are ready. We must be ready now."

I looked at her expectantly and I wanted to weep. She had always been there to solve my problems for me. Silently I thanked God for her as I had a short time before thanked Him for Cassie.

"You have your settlement," went on Grand'mere, "the money Philip settled on you. It is a tidy sum and I have saved a little. Perhaps it is enough."

"What is your plan, Grand'mere?"

''That we start our own establishment. We will have our dress salon. We will go to London and find the premises. We can work together. It is what I have always wanted . . . Independence. None could say I have not the experience."

"Oh, Grand'mere," I cried. "Could we?"

"We will, man amour. We will."

Cassie was watching us intently. She said suddenly: "I want to come with you."

"My dear child," said Grand'mere, "it will be a venture. There are hazards."

"I believe in it," cried Cassie. "I have my little income. I can sew very well. You said so, Madame Cleremont. You won't have to pay me. I just want to be part of it."

"We shall have to see," said Grand'mere.

Cassie stood up and ran to the dummies. She embraced Emmeline. "I am sure they know," she said. "And they are very happy about it."

We found that we could laugh. And I thought: It is what I want. I cannot stay here any longer than need be. I must get right away . . . soon.