The Lady and the Lake (2 page)

As
I
was
twenty-five
years
of
age
the
former
had
obviously
eluded
me,
so
the
latter
had
been
inevitable
and
I
had
found
myself
being
interviewed
by
a
starchy
solicitor
named
Mr
Lang
for
position
of
companion
to
a
Mrs
Kershaw
of
Kerslake
Hall
in
Yorkshire.

It
had
all
seemed
very
romantic
sat
in
Mr
Lang’s
office,
but
now
it
would
seem
somewhat
unfortunate
that
I
had
been
successful
in
securing
the
post.
I
would
however
endure
it
for
a
short
time,
after
all
Mrs
Kershaw
may
be
a very
amenable
person,
unlike
the
exterior
of
her
home.
Little
did
I
know
then,
thankfully,
what
sort
of
person
she
would
turn
out
to
be.

Harry
set
me
down
outside
the
iron
gates
which
were
flanked
either
side
by
pillars,
on
top
of
which
sat
two
demons
with
open
mouths
and
fiery
tongues.
He
graciously
excused
himself
from
helping
me
with
my
luggage
and
with
little
ado
was
gone
leaving
me
stood
in
a
blast
of
dust
due
to
the
speed
of
his
departure.

Tentatively
I
pressed
down
the
iron
latch
and
the
gate
swung
open
with
ease,
squealing
as
it
came
to
a
halt
against
the
hedge,
which
lined
the
drive
on
either
side.
Picking
up
my
luggage
I
hesitated
before
stepping
across
the
boundary
of
the
Hall.
I
placed
the
luggage
down
once
more
before
closing
the
gate,
retying
the
bow
on
my
blouse
I
picked
up
trunk
and
valise
and
proceeded
up
the
long
path.

Everywhere
was
silent
and
I
had
a
fancy
that
the
place
was
in
truth uninhabited,
when
a
large
black
raven
swooped
noisily
over
the
top
of
my
head
almost
dislodging
my
hat,
so
close
had
it
flown,
leaving
me
trembling
and
somewhat
startled.

The
house
loomed
up
on
me
suddenly
as
I
looked
at
the
tall
three
storey
building
with
many
large
plain
glass
windows
I
had
an
overwhelming
feeling
of
familiarity,
yet
I
was
sure
I’d
never
been
here
before
in
my
life.

At
the
far
end
of
the
building
on
the
left
was
a
small
round
turreted
tower,
although
attached
to
the
house
it
looked
incongruous
and
somehow
filled
me
with
dread.
I
had
had
my
chance
to
retreat
but
it
was
too
late
for
as
I
looked,
the
double
front
doors
opened
as
if
by
themselves,
before
a
tall
woman
appeared
in
the
doorway
at
the
top
of
the
steps.

‘I
take
it
you
are
Miss
Sinclair?’
she
called
out
to
me
in
a
cultured
voice.

‘I
am
indeed,’
I
answered
moving
towards
the
bottom
of
the
steps,
my
feet
crunching
on
the
gravel
beneath.

‘Mrs
Kershaw
is
expecting
you,
indeed
waiting
for
you,’
she
added,
almost
as
an
afterthought.
As
she
spoke
I
looked
at
my
fob
watch
and
realised
that
I
was
one-and-a-half
hours
late,
not
a
good
start,
but
I
didn’t
really
care
as
my
intention
was
to
leave
this
cold
gloomy
house
at
the
first
opportunity.

As
I
stepped
across
the
threshold
the
woman
who
bade
me
enter
closed
the
doors
behind
me,
I
could
barely
see
the
huge
hall
I
had
stepped
into
for
the
sun
did
not
reach
this
side
of
the
house
at
this
time
of
day.
All
I
could
ascertain
were
shadowy
corners
and
a
musty
smell,
as
though
the
house
were
unlived
in.

‘I’m
Mrs
Grafton.’
Her
voice
brought
me
back
to
the
present,
‘I’d
like
to
welcome
you
to
Kerslake
Hall
and
ask
that
in
future
you
use
the
servants’
entrance.’

‘Which
is
where?’
I
interrupted
sharply,
for
I
felt
anything
but
welcome
in
this
gloomy
place.

‘At
the
far
side
of
the
house, someone
will
show
you
later,’
replied
Mrs
Grafton
through
gritted
teeth,
she
was
obviously
unused
to
being
questioned.
‘Please
leave
your
bags
here,
as
before
I
show
you
your
room,
Mrs
Kershaw
wishes
to
speak
with
you,
follow
me!’

Doing
as
I
was
bid,
I
followed
the
slim,
grey-clad
woman
to
the
back
of
the
hall
and
along
a
corridor
which
was
sparsely
carpeted
in
green,
my
eyes
were
adjusting
to
the
light
and
I
could
see
many
small
pieces
of
furniture
set
against
the
purple-coloured
wallpaper.
Mrs
Grafton
opened
a
large
wooden
door,
and
as
she
did
I
was
blinded
by
sunlight
which
streamed
through
one
of
the
large
windows
on
the
left.