The Return of the Gypsy (30 page)

Tamarisk was passionately interested in geography; she liked history only slightly less; but botany and literature were favourites. I suggested to Miss Allen that perhaps it would be best to concentrate on these subjects, although of course she must be taught everything she should know.

She was given to passionate loves and passionate hatreds. Passion was the keynote of her character. If she did not feel hatred or love she was indifferent—and that was how she was with most of us.

But she had a real affection for Jeanne, whom she visited often, and for Leah too. I was glad that Leah had come back with her for she seemed to be the only one who could control her. But she was certainly not indifferent to Jonathan. Her feeling for him seemed to be a passionate hatred—but I was not sure that that described it exactly.

She was eight years old at this time; he was ten years older, so the difference in their ages was great, and I wondered why there should be that sort of awareness between them. He was—so they told me—exactly like his father, undoubtedly good looking, though not in a conventional way. It was his manner which was so charming, his rather musical voice, and a certain insouciant attitude to life which quite a number of people—particularly women—found irresistible. His was a kind of careless good nature. Whatever outrageous thing he did would never be done out of malice. There was a certain lack of involvement in his attitude which seemed to set people at ease. I think the impression he gave was that he would never be critical and one felt he could charm his way out of any difficult situation. And that there might be plenty of those was evident. I was not surprised that my father felt a little apprehensive about him, and had secretly told me that an eye would be kept on him.

His coming into the immediate family circle had certainly added a spice of interest to our lives.

I was often at Eversleigh. Whenever possible I would take Edward over there to dine. My mother always welcomed this. James would wheel him out to the carriage, lift him in, fold up the chair, and when we arrived at our destination, wheel him into the house.

Much as I wanted to go, I could not allow it to be too frequent an occurrence because it tired Edward a good deal, but on the other hand he did enjoy mingling with the family and during the course of the evening he often forgot his disability.

It was the beginning of June and we were at the dinner table at Eversleigh with my parents, Amaryllis and Peter, Claudine, David, and Jonathan. David and Jonathan had spent the day at a nearby sale and were describing what they had bought.

This gave my father an opportunity to expound one of his favourite themes.

“Just think of it,” he was saying, “Oaklands Farm used to be one of the finest in these parts. That was when old Gabriel was alive. He would turn in his grave if he could see this day.”

“It’s terrible for Tom Gabriel… his home gone like that.”

“Don’t waste your sympathy on Tom Gabriel,” snorted my father. “He brought it all on himself.”

“What was his particular sin?” asked Peter.

“That which has been the ruin of many a man,” said my father. “Could never resist a gamble, Tom Gabriel couldn’t. When he was a boy he would be gambling with conkers and marbles. It was in his blood. God knows, old Gabriel had a good head on his shoulders. It was a fever with Tom Gabriel and it destroyed him and his farm. It is by no means an unusual story, I can tell you. There are some who never learn. I have seen gambling ruin more homes than anything I know.”

“You have never been a gambler, sir?” asked Peter.

“Only when I’m certain of winning.”

“That is not a gamble, Father,” I said.

“I’m telling you it’s a fool’s game,” retorted my father. He banged his fist on the table. “I would never have it in my house.”

“I don’t think any of us is likely to take it up,” said Claudine lightly. “You wouldn’t, would you, David?”

My mother laughed. “I doubt David would know one card from another.”

“As a matter of fact,” said David, “I know the whole pack. But I agree with my father. Risks should never be taken with anything that is important.”

“Well, Jonathan,” went on my father, “you’ve seen today what can happen to a man who gets caught up in all that foolishness.”

“Of course,” replied Jonathan, who could never resist taking the opposite view, “he might have won at the tables and instead of seeing his farm sold might have bought several others.”

My father’s fist once more came down on the table and this time the glasses rattled.

“Careful, Dickon,” murmured my mother.

“I tell you, young fellow, it’s a fool’s game. The chances of coming out on top are one in a million. Any sign of anyone here taking to gambling and they’d be out… like a shot.”

I noticed Peter was watching Jonathan intently and there was a glitter of amusement in his eyes. Jonathan was silent. He realized, as we all did, that my father’s vehemence on this matter was not to be treated lightly.

My mother, as she often did on such occasions, changed the subject, and the first thing she could think of was Napoleon’s defeat. It was a subject which had not yet grown stale and there was excitement over Wellington’s return to London.

“There will be galas and celebrations,” said my father. “It was like that with Nelson. Wellington has taken his place. He’s a Duke now. Well, it is good to see honours bestowed where they are deserved.”

“It will be a great homecoming for him,” said my mother. “I heard that he had been out of the country for five years.”

“A long time to be away,” said Peter. “I know how I feel when I make my periodic trips to London.” He smiled at Amaryllis and she smiled back while Claudine looked at them fondly.

“They say,” went on my mother, “that he is not exactly enamoured of his Duchess.”

“But his marriage was most romantic,” said Claudine. “It is true I believe that he fell in love with Lady Wellington… I suppose one must say the Duchess now … when he was a very young man. I heard that Lord Longford, her brother, at that time refused to accept Wellington as his brother-in-law because he had only his army pay.”

“I daresay he would feel differently about it now,” I put in.

“Well, there was no marriage and Wellington went to India and when he came back he found Catherine Pakenham unmarried—it was said because she had remained faithful to him, and he felt in honour bound to marry her, even after all those years.”

“Are you suggesting that he did not want to?” asked Peter.

“That’s the story. He is supposed to have certain lady friends.”

My father rapped the table. “This is a hero. He has just defeated the menace of the world. Let him have his relaxation in whatever way he wishes. It is his reward.”

“I’d rather have a faithful husband than a hero,” said Amaryllis looking at Peter.

“Well, let’s hope that everyone will be satisfied,” said my father. “Now what I was saying was that there will be fine doings in London when the Duke arrives. I think it would be a good idea to take a little trip, a party of us.”

“Oh, it would be lovely!” I cried; then I saw Edward glance at me and I wished I had not spoken.

David said he could not go. “Estate matters,” he murmured.

My father nodded and Claudine said: “I shall stay at home, too.”

“You, my dear, will no doubt be one of the party.” My father smiled at my mother who replied: “Yes, indeed.”

Edward said: “You must go, Jessica.”

“Oh, I’m not sure.”

“Yes, you must. You are too much at home. I want you to go.”

“I’ll see,” I said.

“Amaryllis?” said my mother.

“Well, there is Helena.”

“Oh nonsense,” said my mother. “The nanny is excellent and your mother will be at home. You could leave for a few days.”

“Yes, do come,” said Peter.

She smiled and said: “Well, perhaps I could.”

“Well, that’s settled,” said my father. “Lottie and I, Amaryllis and Peter and Jessica. Jonathan?”

“Certainly,” said Jonathan. “I can’t wait to be in the big city.”

“It will make a pleasant party,” said my mother.

“I think the Duke will be there on the twenty-third,” said my father. “Suppose we went two days earlier?”

“So be it,” replied my mother.

When Tamarisk heard we were going to London she begged to come with us. I had not at first thought of taking her. To tell the truth I was a little afraid of having charge of her. At Grasslands I felt relieved by the presence of Leah and Miss Allen—and to have the entire responsibility thrust onto my shoulders was daunting.

“I want to go … so much,” she said. “Why can’t I go? What difference does it make to you?”

“If I could be sure that you would behave …”

“Oh, I will, I will. Only let me come. I long to see London and the great Duke.”

“There wouldn’t be room for Leah or Miss Allen in the carriage.”

“They won’t mind staying behind.”

I sighed. “If you will promise me to be good …”

“I will be good … I will”

So it was arranged.

My mother was dubious. “The child can be such a responsibility. And, after all, she is no relation of ours.”

“She is Dolly’s child,” Claudine reminded her.

“Yes, and of a wandering gypsy,” added my mother.

“She is mixed up with the family because Aunt Sophie adopted her,” I reminded them. “And she does own Enderby. She really is in a way a member of the family.”

“I wish she were more like the rest of us.”

“She’ll change perhaps. And she has promised to be good.”

It was a lovely summer’s morning when we set out—my mother, Tamarisk, Amaryllis and I in the carriage with my father, Jonathan and Peter on horseback.

And so we came to London.

Tamarisk watched our approach in silent wonderment. She sat quietly demure, her hands folded in her lap. How lovely she is I thought, when she is peaceful like that particularly! I could be very fond of her if she were always thus.

We arrived at the house and the following day Peter, Amaryllis, Jonathan and I took Tamarisk sightseeing. We sailed up the river as far as Greenwich. Later we walked in the park. Tamarisk was true to her promise and was on her best behaviour.

My mother, Amaryllis and I took advantage of being in town to shop; Peter disappeared, as he said, on business and my father was likewise engaged. Jonathan once more took Tamarisk on the river and gave her a whitebait supper. She came back with shining eyes and I think it was the first time I had seen her look completely happy.

The twenty-third, the great day, dawned. London was
en fete.
The great Duke was coming home victorious. Because of his efforts the bogey, Napoleon, was on Elba where he could do no harm. We could sleep happily in our beds again and all because of the mighty Duke.

There was no doubt about it, he was going to be given a great welcome.

People were in the streets early.

“We could get near Westminster Bridge where he will alight,” said Jonathan.

“There’ll be crowds there,” warned Peter.

“Maybe, but it will be the best spot.”

My parents were going to watch from a window and my father advised us to do the same.

“Oh, let’s go into the streets,” begged Tamarisk. “It can’t be the same from a window. I want to be down there with all those people.”

“You come with me,” said Jonathan.

“Oh yes.” She was jumping up and down with joy.

“Well, if you want to get into the crush, do,” said my father.

In the end, Amaryllis and I went out with Tamarisk, Jonathan and Peter.

“Not too near Westminster Bridge,” warned my father.

“I know the very spot,” said Jonathan.

I had to agree with Tamarisk that there was nothing like the excitement of being in the streets. Traders were selling flags and effigies of the great Duke. There were mugs with his image on them. “Not very flattering,” commented Jonathan.

Everyone seemed to be shouting. A band was playing
Rule, Britannia.
The crowds were greater as we came near the Bridge.

“We’ll stay here,” said Jonathan.

“It’s a little close,” pointed out Peter.

“We want to be close. We want to see the great man,” pointed out Jonathan.

“There’ll be a scuffle when his carriage moves away.”

“The great point is to see him,” said Jonathan. “Tamarisk has told me that she insists, haven’t you, Gypsy?”

“I want to see the Duke,” she replied firmly.

“It is all right now,” admitted Peter. “And it is the best spot we can hope for. I was thinking of when the crowd begins to move.”

“All keep together,” said Jonathan. “No straying, Gypsy. Do you hear me?”

“Of course I heard you.”

“Well, remember it.”

The tumult had increased and there, in person, was the great Duke. Tamarisk cried desperately: “I can’t see. There are too many big people.” Jonathan picked her up and, to her intense delight, set her on his shoulder holding her high above the crowd.

The Duke was stepping into the carriage, acknowledging the cheers. He was neither tall nor short—about five feet nine inches, I guessed. He was handsome in his uniform, which was glittering with medals—spare figure, muscular looking as though he were in perfect health; and his features were aquiline and I was close enough to see his grey penetrating eyes.

“God bless the great Duke,” cried the crowd and the cheers went up.

Then the crowd took over. The horses were removed from the carriage and the people crowded round for the honour of pulling his carriage to the Duchess’s house in Hamilton Place. It was an extraordinary sight.

“There,” said Jonathan. “It wouldn’t have been nearly so good from a window, would it?”

“More comfortable,” I commented.

“It
is
comfortable,” said Tamarisk.

“We don’t all have the privilege of being held aloft by a gallant gentleman,” I reminded her.

She looked blissfully happy then.

The carriage was moving slowly away and the crowd started to follow. Jonathan put Tamarisk down and said: “Keep close.”

The crowds were pressing round. This was what Peter had warned us against. The shouting throng was pressing round the Duke’s carriage.