Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (20 page)

My feelings were very mixed as my mother and I made the journey to the coast accompanied by my father who saw us on to the packet boat before leaving us. It had been sad to say goodbye to the children, to Charles and Lisette, but I was anxious about my grandmother and I could not suppress a certain excitement at the prospect of seeing Eversleigh again. I think my mother felt the same, though she was very subdued.

We had a reasonably good crossing and arrived at Dover in the afternoon so that it was evening before we reached Eversleigh.

There was the old house as I remembered it—not so imposing perhaps as the Château d’Aubigné, but grand in its own mariner.

Sabrina rushed out when she heard our arrival. She embraced us fervently. ‘It is wonderful to see you!’ she cried. ‘I am so delighted that you have come.’

‘How is my mother?’ asked my mother.

‘Weak … but so excited at the prospect of seeing you. I am sure it will do her the world of good. Oh, here’s Dickon.’

And there he was—Dickon, who had been so much in my thoughts for so long. He was just as I remembered him—‘larger than life’, as someone had once said of him; and as good-looking as he ever had been. A wig covered those hyacinthine locks, which was a pity, but his eyes were even more startlingly blue than I remembered.

‘Zipporah!’ he cried, first to my mother. He embraced her and I noticed that she tried to hold aloof, but he appeared not to notice that and hugged her affectionately.

And then he was looking at me. He said my name softly. ‘Lottie … Lottie … grown-up Lottie.’

I held out my hand to him but he ignored the gesture and lifted me up in his arms, laughing up at me.

‘How exciting … Lottie is here.’

Sabrina was looking at him with that mingling of admiration, tenderness and adoration which I remembered so well. I saw my mother’s lips tighten, and I thought: Nothing has changed.

As for myself I had been waiting ever since I knew I was coming here for this moment.

‘They must be worn out,’ said Sabrina. ‘Did you have a good journey? Your rooms are ready … your old rooms. I thought you would like that. But would you like to see Clarissa first?’

‘Of course,’ said my mother. ‘Let’s go to her at once.’

Sabrina led the way up the staircase which I remembered so well.

Dickon was close to me. He put an arm around me. ‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘what fun that you are here.’

I said coolly: ‘I hope my grandmother is not seriously ill.’

‘She is getting on in years now,’ said Sabrina, ‘and she has grown weaker these last months. That is why I thought you should come.’

‘You should have come before,’ said Dickon.

Sabrina smiled. ‘Of course they should. In fact we were all very put out that you went abroad.’

‘At least that left you Eversleigh,’ I said, looking at Dickon. I was telling myself: It is different now. I know so much about you. I know you chose this place instead of me.

I must remember that, for in these first moments I was beginning to be too much aware of the potent charm of Dickon and was filled with misgiving.

We went to my grandmother’s room. She was sitting up in bed looking frail but pretty in a lacey pink bedjacket.

‘Zipporah!’ she cried and my mother ran to her. ‘And Lottie! Oh my dears … how wonderful to see you. It has seemed so long …

We embraced and she made us sit on either side of the bed. ‘Tell me all your news,’ she said. ‘Tell me about dear little Charlot and Claudine. Oh, Lottie, it is so odd to think of you as a mother. You seem only a child yourself.’

‘Time passes. I am no longer a child, Grandmother.’

‘Dear Lottie, as lovely as ever. She is, is she not, Sabrina? Dickon?’

Sabrina nodded and Dickon said: ‘She’s lovelier. She’s Lottie-grown-up, Lottie the woman. She’s even more lovely than Lottie the child.’

Sabrina and my grandmother looked at him and smiled in the way I remembered so well. My mother’s face had hardened and the years seemed to drop away and we were back in those days when there was conflict because Dickon wanted to marry me.

‘You are a father now, Dickon,’ she said.

‘Oh, the terrible twins,’ put in Sabrina indulgently. ‘They were rather cross because they weren’t allowed to sit up. You’ll see them in the morning.’

‘They must be about eight years old now,’ said my mother.

‘So you remember,’ commented my grandmother indulgently.

‘You’ll have a lot of time to talk,’ said Sabrina, smiling at my grandmother. ‘I’m going to take them to their rooms now. You’ll want to wash and have something to eat, I dare say. You’ll see them again very soon, Clarissa.’

My grandmother nodded and smiled contentedly while Sabrina took charge of us and led us to our rooms.

What memories come back to me in that room! And I am sure my mother felt the same in hers. She had not always been happy here and she was obviously remembering a great deal that was disturbing. We were both going to find our stay here rather upsetting. A brief glimpse of Dickon had made that certain. He had lost none of his charm and I was as conscious of him as I had ever been. I warned myself I would have to be wary.

I washed and changed and went down with my mother to a meal.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ I asked her.

She turned to give me a searching look. ‘I’m a little emotional, I’m afraid. It’s coming back here. I remember so much about the place. Uncle Carl … and then Jean-Louis and I here together.’

‘Grandmother, Sabrina and Dickon were not here then.’

‘No, they came when we left.’

‘I dare say there will be lots of differences.’

‘Oh, I dare say. Your grandmother does not seem as bad as I feared she might be. That’s a relief. I don’t think we should stay very long, do you, Lottie? I mean … you’ll be wanting to get home … and your father made me promise not to stay too long.’

‘We have only just come,’ I reminded her.

But even as early as that I was telling myself that I should never have agreed to come, for Dickon was determined to take up our relationship where it had been broken off, which was characteristic of his attitude to life. I really do believe that he saw himself as the very centre of existence with everything revolving round him and everyone there for his convenience. Others might be obliged to take care what they did; the same did not apply to him. If he wanted to act without honour he would do so; I am sure he believed so charmingly that everyone would forgive him.

‘No, I told myself. Not everyone. I shall never forget that he chose Eversleigh and let me go.

As we sat at table that night he singled me out for his attention.

‘Do you ride much in France, Lottie?’ he asked.

‘A great deal,’ I replied.

‘Good. We’ll go out tomorrow. I have just the horse for you.’

Sabrina smiled. ‘It will do you good, Lottie. And you’ll be safe with Dickon.’

I wanted to burst out laughing. I should be safer even alone than with Dickon.

My mother was talking about Claudine and what an enchanting child she was. ‘She has a bit of a temper, the nurse tells me. Oh, I do wish I could see my grandchildren more. Little Charlot is quite a charmer.’

‘What would you expect of Lottie’s son?’ asked Dickon.

‘I am wondering,’ I retorted, ‘what I am to expect of yours.’

‘Strange to think of us as parents, eh Lottie?’ said Dickon.

‘Why? We are no longer young.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he said. ‘I feel young. You look young. Therefore we are young. Is that not so, dear Mother?’

‘Dickon is right,’ said Sabrina. Indeed, I thought, when in your eyes has he ever been anything else?

My mother asked questions about the neighbourhood. ‘What of that old house. Enderby?’

‘It’s empty now,’ Sabrina told her. ‘The Forsters left after the fire. They wanted to get away … understandably. Another family came but they didn’t stay long. Nobody does at Enderby. Dickon was a hero in that fire.’

‘My mother always sees the best of me,’ said Dickon.

‘Yes,’ put in my mother coolly, ‘she does indeed.’

‘Well, isn’t that the way a mother should see her offspring?’ asked Dickon. ‘Don’t you look at dear Lottie through rose-coloured glasses?’

‘I don’t need to,’ retorted my mother. ‘Lottie pleases me very much in her natural state.’

‘Zipporah has indeed become the gracious lady,’ observed Dickon. ‘Madame la Comtesse—no less. You must live very magnificently in your château.’

‘It is very pleasant,’ admitted my mother.

‘You look younger than you did before you left England. Oh, but then, of course, you had such anxieties.’

My mother did not reply. She went on quietly eating her food; but I knew she was annoyed with him and that he was deliberately stirring up memories which she would rather forget. For all that, she was determined not to let him see this, but I, who knew her so well, realized that she was feeling far from calm.

I was glad when the meal was over and we could retire. My mother said she would go straight to her room, for the journey had been very exhausting indeed.

We called in on my grandmother and chatted for about a quarter of an hour and then went to our rooms.

I had not been in mine very long when there was a tap on my door. I felt my heart start to race. I thought: No. Even he would not dare.

A voice said: ‘May I come in?’

Relief flooded over me for it was Sabrina.

‘Oh, Lottie,’ she said. ‘I do hope you are comfortable. I am so glad you came with your mother. Your grandmother is delighted. She has talked of nothing else since she knew you were coming. We are all so pleased?’

I said: ‘I am looking forward to meeting Dickon’s sons.’

‘You’ll love them. They are such rascals. Dickon says Jonathan takes after him, so you will gather that Jonathan is the more lively of the two.’

‘It must be great fun to have twins.’

‘Yes … and very fortunate in view of what happened. I think he still grieves for Isabel. It was so sad. It was what they wanted more than anything else—a son.’

‘I have heard that she was not very strong.’

‘She had several disappointments before. Then she succeeded and brought them into the world and ironically their coming cost her life.’

‘It is very sad. I gather it was a happy marriage.’

‘Oh very. They were so well suited. So different too. She was so quiet. She adored him.’

‘So there was yet another to worship at his feet.’

‘Your mother always laughed at our fondness for him. You’re not surprised, are you? There is something very special about Dickon. I believe you thought that once.’

She was looking at me speculatively and I flushed.

‘A sort of child’s hero-worship,’ I murmured.

‘Dickon was quite upset when you went to France.’

‘I thought he was very happy to get Eversleigh. He wouldn’t have had it if my mother hadn’t married and gone away. That must have made up for everything else.’

‘Of course he loves Eversleigh and he manages it perfectly. Poor Jean-Louis was not up to it. Well, it worked out very well.’

‘Do you often go to Clavering?’

‘Hardly ever. Dickon put in a very good manager and he himself is here most of the time when he is not in London.’

‘Oh, I remember you wrote and said he had his fingers in a lot of pies.’

‘Dickon is not the sort to shut himself away in the country. He is in London a good deal, as a matter of fact. He has friends there … in influential places. Isabel’s father was a wealthy banker, as you probably know.’

‘I did hear that he had married a great heiress.’

‘Yes. When her father died she inherited everything. So with banking interests in London and friends at Court Dickon leads a very busy life. But he was determined to be at Eversleigh when you came.’

She stood up and regarded me intently. She took it for granted that I joined in this adulation for Dickon. After all, before I left England I had been as loud in my praises of him as anyone.

‘You have fulfilled your early promise, Lottie. You really are beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘I am sure Carlotta must have been very like you. There is a portrait of her in the house. You will see for yourself that the likeness is remarkable. Oh well, my dear, it is wonderful to see you here. I hope you are not going to run away too soon.’ She kissed me. ‘I’ll say good-night. Sleep well.’

When she had gone I sat on the bed and thought of Dickon’s marrying Isabel, the banker’s daughter and heiress. He had done that soon after I had left for France. I thought cynically: He did well out of his women. Because of me … Eversleigh. And his wife Isabel had brought him a fortune as well as an interesting life in London. Court circles no less! One could trust Dickon to get the best out of life.

I could not stop thinking of him. I tried to analyse my feelings and I came to the conclusion that in many ways I felt unsafe.

I turned the key in the lock. Only thus could I feel secure.

During the next few days I spent a great deal of time in Dickon’s company. It was impossible to avoid him. Wherever I decided to go he would be there. He regarded me with that slightly sardonic look as though to say: It is no use trying to escape. You know you never could escape from me.

I reminded myself a hundred times a day that he was an adventurer, that nobody was of any great account to him except himself. He was proud of his boys. I found them interesting, for they were so much alike in appearance and had an undoubted look of Dickon. They were different in character though. David was quiet and studious; Jonathan noisy and excelling at outdoor sports. They were not close to each other as some twins are. In fact they seemed to be highly critical of each other. Jonathan was very quick to resort to fisticuffs, but David was the master of the cutting remark. There seemed to be a rivalry between them which their tutor tried hard to eradicate. Mr Raine was a man in his early forties with a rather forbidding manner which I thought was exactly what the boys needed. They were both in awe of Dickon, clearly admired him and sought his favour. Dickon himself had little time for them and had never been inclined to pretend what he did not feel. He had two sons, which pleased him. They were the heirs and necessary to propagate the line; he had employed a tutor who could deal adequately with their education until it was time to send them away to school; there his interest ended.