The Return of the Gypsy (35 page)

“I think we should go to supper,” I said.

He took my arm and pressed it.

“This has been a most exciting evening. Meeting you … like this. I meant to come to see you within a few days. This is the first opportunity I have had of getting to London. My brother was an old friend of Lord Inskip so naturally I, the heir, was invited to the ball.”

“Do they know that you served several years … as a convict?”

“In Australia, yes. It doesn’t count. People are sent to Australia for their politics. There is not the same smear as serving a term of imprisonment here. I shall not attempt to hide my past, I assure you. People must take me as they find me.”

I had turned away and we went into the supper room. My emotions were in a whirl. I had been so taken off my guard. It had taken me some time before I could believe that he had come back.

For some reason I did not want to see him again. He disturbed me. I realized that over the last nine years I had thought about him quite often. He had intruded into my thoughts and now that he was back he seemed more disturbing than ever.

I saw my parents seated at one of the tables and leaving him I hurriedly joined them.

My mother said: “What a distinguished looking man you came in with. Had you been in the garden?”

“Yes. It was rather hot in the ballroom.”

“Who is he?”

“Sir Jake Somebody.”

“Your father said he thought he knew him but couldn’t quite place him.”

I was not surprised.

The salmon was delicious; so were the meat patties; there was champagne in plenty. I ate and drank without tasting. I could not forget him.

I saw him across the supper room. He was seated at the Inskips’ table, talking vivaciously and there seemed to be a good deal of merriment around him.

He caught my eye across the room and smiled.

“He is very attractive,” said my mother, following my gaze. “He seems to have his eyes on you.”

“I daresay he has his eyes on quite a number of people.”

“Was he flirtatious?” asked my mother. “He looks as if he might be something of an adventurer.”

“Hardly that.”

“But interesting.”

“Oh yes, very interesting.”

She sighed and I knew she was once more wishing that I had not hurried into marriage.

After supper he asked me to dance. I rose, trying to assume an air of reluctance which I was far from feeling.

“It is good of you to do me the honour,” he said.

We joined the dancers.

“I must come down and see my daughter.”

“Perhaps it would be better if she were brought to London.”

“Would you bring her?”

“Perhaps my mother would. Or her governess. Leah is with us.”

“Leah!”

“When she returned from her sojourn with the gypsies she brought Leah with her. Leah has stayed with us ever since.”

“Leah …” he said softly and I felt a ridiculous stab of jealousy. That should have been warning enough in itself. I was a staid married woman; he was a one-time gypsy, a convict, a seducer of an innocent girl, and he had killed a man. Why should I feel jealous of Leah? Why should I feel so emotional to be near him? Why should this ball be the most exciting one I had ever attended?

Because of him? Oh yes, I should have recognized the warning signals.

“I would rather you brought her,” he said.

“I should have to consider it. I do not care to leave my husband too frequently.”

“And he is too ill to travel?”

“Yes.”

I thought of Jake at Grasslands, a guest in our house. That would be very disturbing. It was such an extraordinary situation. I imagined myself explaining to Tamarisk: “You have a father. He has just appeared. Here he is.” And Edward? What would Edward think of this man? He was very perceptive, and where I was concerned particularly so. He was always conscious of the sacrifice I had made in marrying him. Constantly he said that I should never have done it and as constantly I tried to show him a hundred reasons why I should. I loved Edward. I loved him more than I had when I married him. My admiration for him had grown. I was resigned to my life with him and never until this night had I realized how much I gave up to marry him.

Briefly I imagined myself free. Suppose I had not married Edward and tonight I had met Jake … we should have been together after all those years.

I felt angry with life, with myself, with this man who had come back almost casually into my life and talked so lightly of his relationship with poor Dolly. But I was forcing myself to see him in a certain light. I remembered Dolly as she had looked dancing round the bonfire, sitting at the kitchen table in Grasslands while he sang and played on his guitar. Dolly had adored him. Dolly had loved him. Dolly had wanted that moment of passion between them. It was the only time she had felt herself to be loved … well, desired. And that had resulted in Tamarisk. Dolly had wanted the child. Flashes of memory came back to me. I remembered how she had talked of her child. Dolly had regretted nothing … so why should he?

At least he had brought colour into her life, a joy which she had never before known, and if it had not meant so much to him as it had to her, he was not to blame.

“How long have you been married?” he asked.

“It is nearly two years.”

“So if I had come back …”

He stopped. I knew what he meant. If he had come back earlier he might have been able to prevent my marriage.

It was a confession. He must feel as drawn to me as I did to him. The thought made me blissfully happy … for a moment. Then I realized how absurd this was. I had never thought to see this man again. When I had known him I had been a child with a child’s emotions. Why should I feel this exhilaration one moment, this despair the next… just because he had come back into my life.

I said to him: “I was engaged to him. He was injured … badly … in his factory. I could not break my promise to marry him.” I hesitated. “Nor did I want to,” I added almost defiantly. “He is a good man … a very good man.”

“I understand. And may I come to Grasslands to see my daughter?”

“Yes, of course.”

He came close to me as we danced. “You have not changed very much,” he said. “I believe you would do again all those wonderful things you did then … for me.”

“I was sorry for you. You had done nothing criminal. You saved Leah.”

“Perhaps you will again take pity on me.”

I laughed as lightly as I could: “I doubt you are in need of that now, Sir Jake.”

“I may well be. And then you will be … just as you were all those years ago.”

The dance was over. My mother was sitting with Lady Inskip and he returned me to her, bowed and was introduced by Lady Inskip. My mother expressed her pleasure in meeting him and after a few words he departed.

“Charming man,” said Lady Inskip. “His brother was a good friend of mine. He has come into quite a large estate and I hope to be seeing a good deal of him if he can tear himself away from Cornwall. Yes, very large estates there and a nice little house in London just off Park Lane. John Cadorson did not use it a great deal.”

“I thought I had met him before,” said my mother.

“He is very attractive. I shall take him under my wing. I can see he will be a prey to all the rapacious mamas in London. He’s had a very romantic past, too, and he makes no secret of it. Why should he? It was to his credit really. He killed a man who was trying to assault a young girl. They tried to bring in murder. That was absurd. He was sent to Australia for seven years.”

“Oh,” said my mother blankly. “I am beginning to understand.”

“There was quite a stir at the time in Nottingham or somewhere like that. Jake went off and did the seven years and now he is back … one of the biggest catches in Town.”

My mother looked at me anxiously. Perhaps she noticed the shine in my eyes.

When we arrived home she came to my room for one of those talks of which she was so fond and made a habit.

She came straight to the point.

“Do you realize who that man was?”

“Yes. Romany Jake.”

“That’s right. I was trying to think of his name. You danced with him quite a lot.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Did he talk about the past?”

“Yes. Quite freely. As a matter of fact I told him about Tamarisk.”

“Good heavens, yes. Of course he’s her father … if Dolly was telling the truth.”

“Dolly would not have lied. He is the father. I can see something of him in her.”

“What a situation. Who would have believed it?”

“He’s making no secret of his past. Lady Inskip mentioned it, didn’t she?”

“Oh, it adds a sort of glamour. The man who lived as a gypsy, killed a man to save a woman’s honour and served seven years in a penal settlement because of it. Lady Inskip is right. It’s so romantic—particularly when there’s a fortune and a title to go with it.”

“Yes,” I said. “He will be much sought after. He will have a wide choice.”

“He seems to have a very pleasant manner. Not much of the wandering gypsy there tonight.”

“I thought he was very much the same.”

“You had a long session with him, of course. Oh, here’s your father. He must have guessed where I am. Hello, Dickon. You were right. We were gossiping again.”

“I’m always glad when these affairs are over,” he said, sitting down in my easy chair. “You were the two most beautiful women at the ball.”

“Isn’t he a good faithful old husband and father?” said my mother. “There were more glittering figures than we were.”

“I wasn’t talking about glitter. I was talking about beauty.”

“Dickon, did you see who was there?”

“Half of fashionable London, I imagine.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“I had eyes only for my beautiful wife and daughter.”

“Dickon, you are really old enough now not to be so maudlin.”

“You ungrateful creature!”

“What I meant was did you see the young man who was dancing with Jessica quite a lot?”

“Dark fellow.”

“That’s right. Did you notice anything about him?”

“Good looking, well set-up sort of fellow.”

“Dickon, you are so unobservant. He’s a figure from the past. Do you remember Romany Jake?”

“God bless my soul! Well, yes … I can’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” I said. “He made himself known to me.”

“Lady Inskip told us,” said my mother. “They are making no secret of it.”

“What was he doing at a ball like that?”

“Invited,” I replied. “And he was an honoured guest.”

“Introduced to me by Lady Inskip herself,” put in my mother.

“He’s inherited a fortune and a title. That’s why he has come home from Australia. His estate is in Cornwall but he has a house in London.”

“You certainly found out all the details.”

“Isn’t it a romantic story?” said my mother.

“He’s a romantic sort of fellow.”

“He’s coming to Grasslands,” I said.

They both looked rather startled.

“He has a right to see his own daughter.”

“Tamarisk, of course,” said my mother.

“Best thing to do would have been to keep quiet about that,” added my father.

“He doesn’t seem to want to keep quiet. He wants to see his daughter.”

“So he’ll be staying at Grasslands?” said my mother. “Would you prefer us to have him at Eversleigh?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Oh,” said my mother quickly. “I thought you might have preferred it.”

“Tamarisk is at Grasslands. He would want to be where she is.”

“Quite so,” said my father.

“I hope people are not going to harp on about his sentence,” I said.

“What does it matter? He’s served his term. It’s over.”

“He has a daughter,” my mother reminded him.

“Lots of men have daughters.”

“Illegitimate ones?” asked my mother.

“Scores of them!” he retorted. “Let him come. He might even take her off your hands, Jessica. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” He yawned. “Come on. I’m not so fond of these late nights as I used to be. Goodnight, daughter. Sleep well.”

My mother kissed me tenderly. I had a notion that she was aware of the effect Romany Jake had had upon me.

The next morning he called at the house and asked for me. I received him in the drawing room, pleased that he had come and yet uncertain of myself.

“Good morning,” he said, taking both my hands and smiling at me. “I hope you will forgive such an early call. We left each other last night without making arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” I repeated.

“You kindly said I might visit you at Grasslands to see my daughter.”

“Yes, of course. I think I had better consult my mother. When would it be convenient for you?”

“As soon as possible. I feel that having suddenly learned that I possess a daughter I should lose no time in making her acquaintance. I was going to ask you if you would care to take luncheon with me. I know one or two very good inns hereabouts.”

I hesitated and he went on: “There is so much I want to know about… my daughter.”

“I understand that, of course.”

I felt foolish, awkward … wanting so much to go with him and at the same time feeling it was unseemly to do so with so much enthusiasm. But why not? I was no longer a young girl, I was a married woman. They deserved certain privileges, certain freedoms. To refuse to go with him alone would have suggested that I suspected him of intending to make advances. Or would it? Sensing my hesitation he pressed home the point.

“What about a trip on the river? Some of the riverside inns are of the best. We could sit in the gardens and watch the world sail by. I always find that pleasant.”

I said I should be ready in ten minutes. I went to my mother’s room but her maid told me she had just gone out with my father. I was rather glad as I did not want her speculating.

I put on my cloak and came down.

He looked very elegant in his dark blue coat and light waistcoat and his hessian boots. In my dreams I had seen him in his brown breeches and orange coloured shirt. Even then he had had a certain style—gypsy fashion it was true, but he had been outstanding as he always would be.

I was beginning to feel happy for no reason at all except that I was in his company.