The Return of the Gypsy (37 page)

“But not completely so?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I sense it.”

“I could not have a kinder husband.”

“You have told me very little about him. He had an accident. That is all I know.”

“Before that accident I was engaged to marry him.”

“Were you very much in love?”

I hesitated. I did not know why I had to be entirely frank with him.

“You weren’t,” he said. “Then why did you marry him?”

“Amaryllis had become engaged, and I suppose I thought it was time I did. They all wanted me to marry Edward … his family and mine.”

“Rich, I suppose? Of good family,” he said ironically.

“Not particularly rich. Comfortable, with a business in Nottingham … good solid people, honourable. My family liked them. As a matter of fact, but for you we should never have known them.”

He looked surprised.

“It was when we went to Nottingham … when you stood on trial… that we met them. They became friendly and they bought Grasslands when Dolly died. They became our neighbours as well as friends.”

“So you became engaged because Amaryllis did?”

“It was something like that. Then there was this terrible accident. Edward was so brave … so wonderful. He wanted to free me but I wouldn’t have it. So we were married.”

“It is no life for you,” he said.

“It is the life I have chosen.”

“You were not meant to live a nun’s life. You are a vibrant person, full of life.”

“Were you meant to be treated like a slave? What do you mean when you say it is not what I was meant for? Clearly we are meant for what befalls us.”

“I could not help what happened to me. Could I have stood by and seen Leah ravished?”

“Could I stand by, having given my promise, and leave Edward because he had been crippled?”

“You do the most quixotic things. The idea of tying yourself for life because of a gesture!”

“And what of you? The idea of coming near to death and then suffering seven years of servitude … just for a young girl.”

“Would you say we were a pair of fools?”

“I can only say that what I did I had to do. And I believe the same applies to you.”

He took my hand and held it. “What a serious meeting this has been. I meant it to be so happy, so full of fun … meeting after all these years. We should be enjoying our reunion.” He filled my glass with the burgundy. He lifted his. “Come, laugh and be merry.”

I was surprised at the manner in which he could throw off his melancholy. Now he was very much like the laughing gypsy I had known long ago.

He told me about his estates in Cornwall and so vividly did he talk that I could picture the old grey stone mansion with the battlemented towers, with its long gallery—“haunted, you know. No house in Cornwall is worthy of the term ancient unless it has its ghost. We’re not far from the moors and we have the sea as well. I hope you will visit it one day.”

I let myself believe I would. He had that effect on me. He transported me into a world of make-believe. He made me feel young and carefree. I could temporarily forget that I had duties and responsibilities. I saw myself going through that house in Cornwall, marvelling in the long gallery, the solarium, the crown post, the priest’s hole, the great hall and the garden full of azaleas and rhododendrons with hydrangeas, pink, blue and white, growing in profusion.

He was a vivid talker and brought it all to life for me; moreover he made me long to be there to see it for myself.

I was brought back to reality by the realization that time was passing. My family would wonder where I was and I must go back.

Reluctantly we returned to the boat and I was a little sad as we rowed back. I had been indulging in dreams and as I came out of them I realized as never before, what a rash act it had been to marry Edward. When I looked at this man, pulling at the oars, smiling at me in a significant manner, all the melancholy I had seen in his face when he had talked of his trials disappeared. I was stirred as I never had been before. I wanted to go on being with him. I wanted to see that joy in living which he could display and which seemed particularly exciting when I heard of all he had endured during his years of servitude which would have been so hard to bear for a man of his nature.

In those moments on the river I said to myself: This must be falling in love. I had thought it would never happen to me, and now it had … too late.

We alighted from the boat and began the walk to the house. I realized it must be nearly three o’clock. I felt faintly irritated, frustrated. I had forgotten how anxious they would be about me, so completely absorbed had I been.

We came out into Piccadilly. I must have increased my pace a little, and he said: “You are anxious to get on.”

“I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Let’s take this street. It’s a short cut.”

That was how I saw her. Recognition was instantaneous—after all she had made a great impression on me. It was the girl who had pretended to be blind.

How different she looked now! There was no doubt that she could see. She was fashionably dressed in rather a gaudy manner; her cheeks were startlingly red, the rest of her face very white; those eyes which had seemed so pathetically sightless were rimmed with kohl. She had crossed the road and gone into a building.

I said: “What place is that?”

Jake said: “It’s Frinton’s Club.”

“Frinton’s! I’ve heard of that. That was where Jonathan lost so much money. What sort of place is it?”

“It has rather a shady reputation, I believe.”

It was very strange. What was that girl doing in Frinton’s Club? Something should be done. I did not know what.

“Do you know who owns it?”

“It is said to be a Madame Delarge.”

“I’ve heard of her.”

“There are a chain of clubs like Frinton’s. I’ve heard all sorts of things go on in them. Not gambling only. They are the haunts of prostitutes and idle young men—and perhaps older ones—who have more money than sense.”

“I see.”

“There are a number of them in London. Madame Delarge is the accepted owner, but I have heard that she is just a name, and there is some big organization behind her. Frinton’s is just one of a chain of such clubs. Madame Delarge is the one behind whom the real owners cower. At least so I’ve heard.”

“Why should there be this need for anonymity?”

“It is rather an unsavoury business. It wouldn’t surprise me if the real owners are posing as pillars of society.”

I felt shaken. After my idyllic experience I had seen that young woman who for some time had haunted my dreams. To say the least, it was disconcerting.

When I told my parents I had seen the girl who had pretended to be blind and that she had gone into Frinton’s Club, my father said: “She’s obviously a loose woman. Many of them frequent those clubs. There’s nothing much we could do even if we approached the girl. It’s too long ago.”

“There is a woman who is said to own the place. A Madame Delarge.”

“Oh yes. She’s just a figurehead, I believe.”

“It was a great shock to see that girl. I should have known her anywhere although she was so dressed up and quite different. And her face …”

“Let’s hope she sticks to her trade,” said my father, “and doesn’t attempt any more to kidnap young innocent girls.”

“I think something ought to be done,” said my mother.

My father said to me: “Don’t you attempt to follow her if you see her again. Don’t do anything like that.”

“As if I should!”

My mother was more concerned about my going out with Jake Cadorson.

“I wondered where you were,” she said, mildly reproving.

“I came to tell you I was going but you were out. He wants to come down to see Tamarisk. I am not sure how Tamarisk will feel having a father suddenly presented to her.”

“She’s an unpredictable girl,” said my mother.

“I think,” I mused, “it will be best to break it to her gently. Then when she knows, I’ll ask him to come down.”

“We’ll have him at Eversleigh.”

“Why should you? Tamarisk is at Grasslands.”

My mother looked faintly embarrassed.

“I wondered …” she said.

She betrayed to me that she, who was very perceptive where I was concerned, had guessed that my feelings for this man were perhaps a little more intense than was desirable.

I said calmly: “I will ask him in due course.”

He called next day and my father asked him to dine with us. He accepted with alacrity. It was quite clear that my parents liked him. He had a special gratitude towards my father and quite openly they discussed the trial and the state of the country after this most devastating and prolonged war which had been going on.

“Twenty years one might say,” said my father. “The people are in a merry mood at the moment… singing the praises of the great Duke, but wait till the taxes are enforced. It will be a different story then.”

“You expect trouble?” asked Jonathan.

“I know there’ll be murmuring.” He turned to Jake. “I don’t know how things are in Cornwall.”

“Very much the same as in the rest of the country, I fear,” replied Jake. “And of course the people there are considerably poorer to start with.”

“We’ve had an example of what the mob can do,” said my mother. “Jessica’s husband has been a victim of that.”

“Yes, so I heard.”

“We are better off on our estates,” put in my father. “We manage to weather these storms. It’s townsfolk who suffer most.”

“In addition to the poverty engendered by the war, the people have another complaint,” said Jake. “They are demanding representation. They want universal suffrage.”

“It will be some time before we get that,” said my father. “Do we want every Tom, Dick and Harry who can’t read or write making the laws of this country?”

“They are not asking to make the laws,” I pointed out. “They are merely asking to have a voice in which man they send to Parliament to represent them.”

“Nonsense,” said my father. “The people have to learn. They have to accept what is. They have to march with the times.”

“I would say that is just what they are attempting to do,” I said.

“My daughter is a very contentious woman,” my father remarked to Jake. “Raise a point and she is bound to come up with the very opposite.”

“It makes life interesting,” said Jake.

I was glad they liked him. I was glad he fitted in so well.

After he had gone my father said: “Interesting fellow. Fancy entertaining an ex-convict at your table, Lottie. I’m surprised at you.”

“I found him better company than quite a number I could name.”

“Such experiences are bound to leave their mark. I’m glad things worked out the way they did. It would have been a tragedy to hang a man like that. He was only in that position because he’d saved a young girl from a drunken bully. Silly young idiot.”

“Why silly?” I said. “It was just the sort of thing you would have done in your youth.”

“My dear daughter, you flatter me. I never did much which was not going to bring me good.”

“Why do you always make yourself out to be so much worse than you are? You’re bad enough without that.”

We grinned at each other. I felt so happy because they all liked Jake Cadorson.

I did not think it could happen so soon.

We should be leaving London at the end of the week and it was a Wednesday. It was arranged that Jake should visit Grasslands one week after our return. That would give me time to break the news to Tamarisk that she had a father.

He had said there was so much he wanted to know about Tamarisk, and he confessed that he was a little nervous about meeting her.

It was afternoon. I wanted to go out and make a few purchases and when I left the house I met him. I believe he had been waiting for me.

“It seems so long since we have met,” he said.

I looked at him in astonishment. “It was yesterday.”

“I said it seemed a long time … not that it was.” He went on: “I want to talk to you. I have so much to say to you.”

“Still? I thought we had talked a lot.”

“Not enough. Let’s find somewhere quiet. I know. You have not seen my house yet. It isn’t very far.”

“I was going shopping.”

“Couldn’t that wait?”

“I suppose so. It wasn’t really important in any case.”

“I should like to show you my house. It is small by the standards of your family home. My brother used it as a pied á terre, and as he was a confirmed bachelor I suppose it sufficed.”

He took my arm and I felt as though I danced along those streets. The house was in a quiet little cul de sac. There was a row of Georgian houses with a garden opposite.

“It’s charming,” I said.

“Yes. My brother had elegant tastes and liked to indulge in the comforts of life.”

“Who looks after the house for you? Have you servants?”

“There is a basement in which live Mr. and Mrs. Evers. They as they say ‘do’ for me. It’s an excellent arrangement. Everything is looked after. Mrs. Evers is a good cook and their great virtue is that they don’t intrude. My brother taught them that. They appear like Aladdin’s genie when called on. Otherwise they remain tucked away with their lamp, which is of course in their basement apartment.”

“How fortunate you are. I often think we are plagued by our servants. They note everything we do, embellish it, garnish it and serve it up as salacious titbits.”

“I am free of such observation. It can be very comforting.”

He opened the door with a key and we stepped into the hall. There was a grandfather clock and an oak chest on which stood a big brass bowl, very highly polished. The silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock. I thought to myself: I ought not to have come.

He turned and faced me.

“It is a wonderful moment for me,” he said, “to have you here … in this house.”

“I’m longing to see it.”

“Here is the dining room and the kitchen, and on the next floor a drawing room and study, on the next two bedrooms. It is quite small, you see, but enough for my needs.”

“And you have the estate in Cornwall. I take it you will be living there most of the time.”

He took me up to the drawing room. It had big windows, reaching from floor to ceiling. The apple green drapes were trimmed with gold braid and the furnishings were a deeper shade of green. The furniture was elegant in the extreme.