She laughed at that. And then suddenly her laughter died. 'Your mother taught me,' she answered.
'My mother?'
She nodded. 'She was almost my governess. You see, Mummy was a rather gay person. She hadn't much time for me, poor dear. I was a little girl in pigtails then.' She gave a quick laugh and turned. 'I must go now,' she said.
'No,' I said. 'Not yet. It's about my mother I want to talk to you.'
'I know. But I'd rather not.'
I caught her hand and pulled her round. 'Can't you understand?' I said. 'I never knew my mother. And now suddenly I'm in the place where she lived. You knew her. She loved you. Isn't it natural for me to want to hear about her? And I want to know why she was shut in that room.'
'I don't want to talk about it.' Her voice was angry and she wrenched at her hand. 'Let me go. I tell you I won't talk about it.'
'And I want to know why she committed suicide,' I added, holding her by the hand. 'I can guess. But I want to know.'
Her eyes widened. 'You can guess?' she repeated.
'Of course,' I said. 'My mother ran away with Manack in 1920. And Manack was still living with his first wife then. Even when she died he didn't marry her. He married your mother. And my mother went on living here, acting as housekeeper and as your governess. My God! That's enough to break any woman.'