And n.o.body, except Ferdie sometimes, when they let him, ever wanted to be alone in any room with her. She was so tired of the rooms where she was obliged to be always alone with herself or with the servants, though the servants were always kind.
Now, in Uncle Anthony"s house, there was always peace and quietness and an immense security. She knew that, having taken her, they wouldn"t give her up.
She was utterly happy.
And the house, with its long, wainscoted rooms, its whiteness and darkness, with its gay, clean, shining chintzes, the delicate, faded rose stuffs, the deep blue and purple and green stuffs, and the blue and white of the old china, and its furniture of curious woods, the golden, the golden-brown, the black and the wine-coloured, bought by Anthony in many countries, the round concave mirrors, the pictures and the old bronzes, all the things that he had gathered together and laid up as treasure for his Sons; and the garden on the promontory, with its b.u.t.tressed walls and its green lawn, its flower borders, and its tree of Heaven, saturated with memories, became for her, as they had become for Frances, the sanctuary, crowded with visible and tangible symbols, of the Happiness she adored.
"Sing it again, Ronny."
She sang it again.
""London Bridge is broken down""--
It was funny of Michael to like the silly, childish song; but if he wanted it he should have it. Veronica would have given any of them anything they wanted. There was nothing that she had ever wanted that they had not given to her.
She had wanted to be strong, to be able to run and ride, to play tennis and cricket and hockey, and Nicky had shown her how. She had wanted books of her own, and Auntie Frances, and Uncle Anthony and Dorothy and Michael had given her books, and Nicky had made her a bookcase. Her room (it was all her own) was full of treasures. She had wanted to learn to sing and play properly, and Uncle Anthony had given her masters. She had wanted people to love her music, and they loved it. She had wanted a big, grown-up sister like Dorothy, and they had given her Dorothy; and she had wanted a little brother of her own age, and they had given her John. John had a look of Nicky. His golden white hair was light brown now; his fine, wide mouth had Nicky"s impudence, even when, like Frances, he kept it shut to smile her unwilling, twitching, mocking smile. She had wanted a father and mother like Frances and Anthony; and they had given her themselves.
And she had wanted to live in the same house with Nicky always.
So if Michael wanted her to sing "London Bridge" to him twenty times over, she would sing it, provided Nicky didn"t ask her to do anything else at the same time. For she wanted to do most for Nicky, always.
And yet she was aware of something else that was not happiness. It was not a thing you could name or understand, or seize, or see; you were simply aware of it, as you were aware of ghosts in your room at night.
Like the ghosts, it was not always there; but when it was there you knew.
It felt sometimes as if Auntie Frances was afraid of her; as if she, Veronica, was a ghost.
And Veronica said to herself, "She is afraid I am not good. She thinks I"ll worry her. But I shan"t."
That was before the holidays. Now that they had come and Nicky was back, "it" seemed to her something to do with Nicky; and Veronica said to herself, "She is afraid I"ll get in his way and worry him, because he"s older. But I shan"t."
As if she had not been taught and trained not to get in older people"s ways and worry them. And as if she wasn"t growing older every minute herself!
""Build it up with gold so fine-- (_Ride over my Lady Leigh_!)
""Build it up with stones so strong""--
She had her back to the door and to the mirror that reflected it, yet she knew that Nicky had come in.
"That"s the song you used to sing at bed-time when you were frightened,"
he said.
She was sitting now in the old hen-house that was Nicky"s workshop, watching him as he turned square bars of bra.s.s into round bars with his lathe. She had plates of steel to polish, and pieces of wood to rub smooth with gla.s.s-paper. There were sheets of bra.s.s and copper, and bars and lumps of steel, and great poles and planks of timber reared up round the walls of the workshop. The metal filings fell from Nicky"s lathe into sawdust that smelt deliciously.
The workshop was nicer than the old apple-tree house, because there were always lots of things to do in it for Nicky.
"Nicky," she said suddenly, "do you believe in ghosts?"
"Well--" Nicky caught his bar as it fell from the lathe and examined it critically.
"You remember when I was afraid of ghosts, and you used to come and sit with me till I went to sleep?"
"Rather."
"Well--there _are_ ghosts. I saw one last night. It came into the room just after I got into bed."
"You _can_ see them," Nicky said. "Ferdie"s seen heaps. It runs in his family. He told me."
"He never told _me_."
"Rather not. He was afraid you"d be frightened."
"Well, I wasn"t frightened. Not the least little bit."
"I shall tell him that. He wanted most awfully to know whether you saw them too."
"_Me_? But Nicky--it was Ferdie I saw. He stood by the door and looked at me. Like he does, you know."
The next morning Frances had a letter of two lines from Veronica"s mother:
"Ferdie died last evening at half past eight.
"He wants you to keep Ronny.
"VERA."
It was not till years later that Veronica knew that "He wanted most awfully to know whether you saw them too" meant "He wanted most awfully to know whether you really were his daughter."
PART II
THE VORTEX
XI
Three years pa.s.sed. It was the autumn of nineteen-ten. Anthony"s house was empty for the time being of all its children except Dorothea.
Michael was in the beginning of his last year at Cambridge. Nicholas was in his second year. He had taken up mathematics and theoretical mechanics. In the long vacation, when the others went into the country, he stayed behind to work in the engineering sheds of the Morss Motor Company. John was at Cheltenham. Veronica was in Dresden.
Dorothea had left Newnham a year ago, having taken a first-cla.s.s in Economics.
As Anthony came home early one evening in October, he found a group of six strange women in the lane, waiting outside his garden door in att.i.tudes of conspiracy.