Seven for a Secret by Victoria Holt Page A

looked away, as though she did not want to see me. Then I went on, but usually she would imply that she wanted me to come in.
    I soon discovered that when I was not welcome was when Lucy was at home. I had quickly gathered that Lucy did not want me to talk to her sister. Flora knew this too. There was a certain cunning about her.
    She wanted to talk to me but she did not want to offend Lucy; so therefore my calling must be done when Lucy was out.
    On this particular afternoon when I passed, I was invited to come in.
    We sat on the seat, side by side, and she smiled at me in an almost conspiratorial way.
    She talked for a while. It was a conversation I did not entirely understand but she was very pleased to have me there.
    It was mainly about the doll, but more than once she referred to the mulberry bush and kept insisting that there was nothing there.
    Then suddenly she said that the baby was fretful that afternoon. It could be wind. He was sniffling a little too and there was a chill in the air.
    “I’d better take him in,” she said.
    She stood up. I did the same and was preparing to say goodbye when she shook her head.
    “No … you come.”
    She pointed towards the cottage.
    I hesitated. 1 wondered whether 1 ought to go in. Lucy
     
    was certainly not at home or she would have been out by now.
    I could not resist. After all, I had had an invitation to enter.
    I walked beside her as she pushed the pram to the back door and we stepped into the kitchen.
    Gently she took the doll out of the pram murmuring, “There, there.
    It’s a nasty little cold, that’s what it is. He wants his cot. Yes, he’ll be more comfortable there. Nanny Flora will see to that. “
    It was more uncanny in the cottage than it seemed out of doors, and I felt excited as I followed her up the stairs.
    There were a nursery and two bedrooms. The cottage was large as such cottages go. One of the bedrooms was for Lucy, I presumed, the other for Flora and the nursery of course for the doll.
    We went into this nursery and she laid the doll tenderly in the cot.
    Then she turned to me.
    “He’ll be better there, little angel. They get fratchety when they’ve got a cold hanging about.”
    I was always embarrassed when she talked about the doll as though it were living.
    I said: “It’s a nice nursery.”
    Her face lighted up with pleasure and then a puzzled expression crossed it.
    “It’s not like the one we used to have.” Now she was looking a little frightened. I guessed I must have reminded her of the one at St. Aubyn’s, where she had nursed the real Crispin.
    I tried to think of something to say. Then I noticed the picture.
    There were seven birds and they were sitting on a stone wall. It looked as though it had been taken from a book and framed.
    1 took a step closer and read the inscription beneath it.
    “Seven for a Secret,” 1 read. Then 1 cried: “Why! It’s the seven magpies!” ‘:
     
    She was nodding enthusiastically. She had forgotten that this nursery was not like the old one at St. Aubyn’s.
    You like it? ” she asked.
    “It must mean the seven magpies in the verse. 1 learned it once. What is it now? I think I can remember:
    “One for sorrow, Two for joy.
    Three for a girl, Four for a boy.
    five for silver, Six for gold, And seven for a secret. “
    She watched my mouth as I quoted the verse, and finished with me: ‘. never to be told. “
    “That’s it,” I said.
    “I remember now.”
    “Lucy made it,” she said and touched the frame lovingly.
    “She framed it, did she?”
    She nodded.
    “Seven for a secret never to be told,” she said.
    “It must never be told.” She shook her head.
    “Never … never … never.
    That’s what the birds are saying. “
    I examined it closely.
    “The birds look rather evil,” I said.
    “That’s because it’s the secret. Oh dear, he’s waking up.” She went to the cot and picked up the doll.
    The room seemed to assume an un canniness I was filled with an eagerness to