The Shrouded Walls by Susan Howatch Page B

we’re still at war with France! It would be an act of treason and I would denounce any such traitor to the Watch at Rye, whether or not he were my son!’ ”
    “Did you hear any more?”
    “Only the merest fragment of conversation. Alice was virtually pulling me from the room. Godfather bellowed: ‘The devil with scandal! There are some matters which cannot be condoned no matter how much scandal they may cause. To masquerade as a highwayman and play schoolboy pranks is one matter; to treat with one’s enemies in time of war is high treason!’ And Rodric began: ‘Papa, please listen to me—’ Then I heard nothing further for we were outside in the hall and Alice had closed the door.”
    “What happened then? You went to the drawing room, didn’t you, until you heard Esther’s screams when she found Mr. Brandson dead?”
    But she was frightened now. She licked her lips again. “Alice went to the nursery,” she said at last. “I—I was anxious to talk to Rodric ... After a moment or two I went downstairs again to the hall.”
    “But didn’t you tell anyone this before?”
    “No, no, I—well it was not important ... I only wanted to see him on a personal matter ... I reached the hall, and Rodric came out of the library. He looked very agitated. I called but he didn’t stop so I ran after him. He went to the stables. Ned was there. One of the scullery maids ... was there too. They had been sitting in the straw, for I remember Ned dusting his breeches as he stood up. Rodric told him to saddle his horse. Ned said why should he, he wasn’t a groom. Rodric suddenly lost his temper, and began to shout at him ... It—it was rather distressing ... I went back to the house without making any further attempt to speak to Rodric and returned to the drawing room.”
    “But didn’t Ned say afterwards that he had seen you at the stables?”
    “He didn’t see me. Rodric began quarreling with him while I was still outside, and I didn’t venture past the door. Nobody knew that I had left the drawing room save Rodric, and Rodric—” She checked herself.
    “What?”
    “Nothing.” She turned to me earnestly. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? You won’t say I left the drawing room and ran after Rodric to the stables?”
    “Well, no,” I said bewildered. “Of course not. But—”
    “It was a personal m atter,” she rushed on awkwardly. “A matter purely concerning Rodric and myself. I didn’t want anyone else to know I spent that afternoon trying to see Rodric alone.” And an odd look of suppressed excitement flashed across her face for a moment to bewilder me still further. “Oh,” I said blankly.
    There was a silence.
    “What was Ned’s relationship with his father?” I said suddenly. “Did Mr. Brandson never think of leaving the estate to Ned?”
    “Oh no,” she said at once. “There was a no question of that.”
    “But why? I don’t understand.”
    She flushed again and shifted from one foot to the other, the picture of embarrassment.
    “I didn’t understand either,” she said, “for a long time. Then I overheard—” She stopped.
    “Yes?”
    “Ned wasn’t Godfather’s son,” she said. “Godfather let him bear the name of Brandson only in order to avoid scandal, but Ned wasn’t his son at all.”
    I went downstairs, my redingote draped around my shoulders, and the footman in the hall bowed and wished me good-day. When he saw I intended to leave the house by the front entrance, he opened the door for me and bowed again as I stepped out into the porch. Before me the ground sloped sharply to meet the level of the Marsh. Trees grew on the rise on which the house was built, but none grew on a high enough level to obscure the wide vistas visible on all sides, and to the south I could see the sun as it glinted on the roofs of Rye and Winchelsea and cast a brilliant sheen over the blue band of the sea; to the west was a glimpse of cultivated land; to the east stood the dots of grazing