When she was in the nursery Kitty was full of love for little Carolan. Such a lovely creature with her brown hair that glinted quite red in the sunshine, and whose wide green eyes were alert with interest in everything that went on around her. She had a heart-shaped face and a sweet mouth that was going to be rather like Kitty’s own; she had charm and appeal which Charles and Margaret, good-looking as they were, lacked. The years had left a certain mark on Kitty. She was modishly dressed almost showily; indeed there were those in the county and among them her Aunt Harriet who thought her fast, flamboyant a characteristic which displayed itself in her clothes. But the squire liked to see her thus, so there was a handsome enough dress allowance. She had a French maid, Therese, and a little black boy, Sambo, whom she petted. She spent a good deal of time before her mirror, while Therese tried new hair styles and discussed clothes. Once George, coming into her room suddenly and seeing her before her mirror with Therese combing her hair and the black boy sitting at her feet eating sweetmeats, had said: “You were born a harlot, Kitty.” and he dismissed Therese and the boy and made love to her there and then. She was so angry that she fought him, and he seemed to like that; but now she was indifferent to his humiliations. He did things like that, getting great satisfaction from them. Openly he lived with Jennifer. He was the same squire who had always been chasing the prettiest village girls, for he had lost his dreams of becoming the perfect squire, and when he remembered them he blamed Kitty and tried to hurt her. She was impregnable. At first she had had Carolan, and Carolan had been all-sufficing; how she had loved the little girl with the dainty hands and feet and the wide wondering eyes! She had bathed her and powdered her, and lived for her. But motherhood could only be a secondary emotion with Kitty, and there were lovers. First there was the young son of a neighbouring squire, who had reminded her of Darrell because he was so gentle and grateful. Later there were others. Therese was an adept at intrigue; she made the deception of the squire an adventure which was always on the point of being discovered, but never was. So Kitty loved Carolan when she was in the nursery, but when she was not there she forgot her for hours at a time.

Carolan did not know this. She adored her mother; she thought that she longed as deeply as Carolan for them to be together always, to go away somewhere, right away from Haredon, where they would live alone and never see Charles and Jennifer and the squire; though sometimes Margaret should come to see them and bring some of the servants those whom Carolan liked best.

Carolan usually lost herself in this dream when she and her mother were together, even in the nursery with others around them. Perhaps, she thought now, Charles and Jennifer should come and she would say all the things she had wanted so many times to say to them; she would tell Jennifer that she was ugly, and Charles that he was silly. And they would not be able to do anything about it, because the cottage in which she lived with her mother would be a magic place and she only had to snap her fingers and two great dogs, breathing fire, would spring from nowhere and drive Jennifer and Charles away. Such a lovely cottage it was, with fruit trees all round it; and in the cottage it was always daytime. Only on very rare occasions should the squire come there, because she was frightened of the squire in much the same way as she was frightened of the dark. This fear was inexplicable, because she did not always want to run away from it. It called her to it, even as it terrified her. She always thought of George Haredon as the squire, because both her mother and Jennifer referred to him by that name when they spoke of bun to her. He was a colossus of a man; he wore the biggest riding-boots in the world, and his hands were not like human hands; they were covered in black hair like the hair he had on his face. And his black eyes had a lot of red in them which she could not stop looking at. Sometimes he would lift her on to his knee and caress her as though he loved her; he would stroke her hair. He had a hoarse voice; often he said: “By God, Carrie, you’re going to be such another as your mother.” His face would look very ugly when he said that, and he would put it so near hers that she could see each thick black hair of his eyebrows, and the red in his eyes formed itself into shapes like rivers on a map. Then he would say: “And if you are, girl, I’ll break every bone in your body before I’ve finished with you!” which sounded very frightening coming from him, but was not meant to be perhaps, because he laughed when he said it. And sometimes he would kiss her in the hollow of her neck which Jennifer said was like a salt cellar, she being so thin and ugly, and sometimes he would put his great mouth on her eye so that she had to shut it quickly. A terrifying person, the squire. She hated the smell of him. Once she had wrinkled her nose, and he had said: “What does that mean?” And she had answered: “You have a horrid smell.” And because she thought that might be very rude, she added: “The Squire!” She had called him that once or twice, as though it were his name, and it had amused him. But it did not amuse him then; he put her from him in a tantrum and strode away, and she hid herself thinking that if he found her he really would break every bone in her body. And next time he picked her up and set her on his knee, she made a great effort not to show that she did not like his smell. But for all this he fascinated her, and sometimes she would deliberately get in his way just to see whether he would be angry with her or caress her; and either was equally terrifying to her. Aunt Harriet should come to see them at the cottage too, and she, Carolan, would call up the dogs that breathed fire, very quickly if Aunt Harriet was unpleasant, for Aunt Harriet could be very unpleasant. She had hard hands that hurt when she slapped, but Carolan did not mind that so much; it was Aunt Harriet’s cold eyes and grim mouth that Carolan hated. They seemed to be holding a secret a horrible secret about Carolan.

But the dream of the cottage and its visitors and fire-breathing dogs was over, for Kitty was gently disengaging her hands and Jennifer was gripping her shoulder.

“It is time the children went now, Ma’am.” Jennifer released Carolan, and going over to the mirror put on her bonnet.

Kitty thought how desolate Carolan looked, standing there. So much smaller than the others … And was Jennifer kind? Margaret took Carolan’s hand and pulled her to the door. It was pleasant to think of the older girl’s keeping an eye on little Carolan, and Kitty had always liked Margaret. Now Carolan was looking over her shoulder at her mother, and her face puckered a little; she looked such a baby, scarcely her five years now, though one was apt to think her older at times; she was such an old-fashioned little thing. Kitty wondered whether she would give up her afternoon to the child, keep her with her. But no! She had an engagement. Besides, children were moody; you were apt to think them unhappy when they were just a little peevish. And, in any case, all the children had been invited to the rectory; it would seem rude if one of them stayed behind. So Kitty eased her conscience; if Jennifer was unkind to her, surely Carolan would say so. She watched Their getting into the carriage, and told herself how good it was to know that Carolan was being brought up with other children. Jennifer would not be different from what she was to the others; she would not dare.

The carriage rattled over the stony roads. Carolan began to bounce up and down on the seat for the sheer joy of riding along country roads in a carriage. Jennifer slapped her.

“Still. Miss.”

She was going to be the image of her mother, thought Jennifer; not so beautiful perhaps she would be darker for one thing and her eyes were green but those thick red-tinted lashes and that provocative tilt of the head, She had… what her mother had, and if one could believe the stories one heard, what her grandmother and great-grandmother had had too. Jennifer wanted to beat that small wriggling body, but what was the good. There would be trouble if she went too far in that direction; the artful little imp already had some sort of influence with the squire; Jennifer believed he was more interested in Carolan than in his own children. Sometimes he could not keep his mouth from smiling when he spoke of her. What witchery was this she had inherited, when at five years old she, the very sight of whom should have enraged the squire, could command a special indulgence?