Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (21 page)

We spent a great deal of time with my grandmother. After all, that was the reason why we had come and our arrival had done a lot for her. She talked with my mother over old times and the happy life she and Sabrina had had together bringing up Dickon.

There was no escaping Dickon in that house. My grandmother and Sabrina talked of him constantly and whenever I was alone he contrived to find me. When I went riding he would be beside me. I knew what his purpose was and I guessed it would be the same with any reasonable young woman. Dickon knew exactly what he wanted and he expected everyone to fall in with his wishes.

Apart from ambitions he had been strongly attracted by me and I wondered whether he had been to Isabel; and being Dickon, he assumed that he was irresistible and it would only be a matter of time before he overcame my scruples and we indulged in a love-affair.

I was aware of this and so was my mother; no doubt she had memories about her first meeting with my father which had taken place near Enderby. I was determined not to be a partner in Dickon’s search for temporary satisfaction. Sabrina and my grandmother believed of course that he was merely playing the host in his charming, gracious way, but to me, from our first day, his intentions were clear.

After spending most of the morning with my grandmother I went down to the stables in the early afternoon and asked one of the grooms to saddle a horse for me, which he did. I was looking forward to a nostalgic afternoon, visiting the places I remembered from all those years ago and I would remind myself of what a happy life I had found in France. I loved Charles—with reservations, it was true. I saw his faults. I did not believe that he was always faithful to me; I had, in some measure, accepted the marital conventions of my new country and I realized that the basis of a happy marriage, to the French, meant one in which a woman did not probe too deeply into her husband’s extramarital relationships. Some women might have said that what was in order for men might be for women too and some I knew carried their beliefs into practice. But I did see that there was some point in inflicting a more rigid code on women for the simple reason that romantic interludes could result in children.

Lisette and I had discussed the matter frequently. She said it was unfair. There should be one law and one only and that should apply to both men and women. If a child was the result, the man who had fathered it should be named since the woman had no alternative but to be recognized as the mother. But no. It was not like that. How many men had their clandestine relationships, resulting in difficulties for the partner in them, and escaped the shame, humiliation and practical difficulties of having a child born out of wedlock?

Lisette could argue fiercely about the matter. I always enjoyed these discussions and we usually made a habit of taking opposite sides so that we could get the most out of the discussion.

Now I thought of Lisette and considered how amused she would be to see Dickon pursuing me.

I could almost hear myself talking to Lisette. Yes, I would say, he does attract me. He always did … I think more than anyone I ever knew. More than Charles? Well, Charles did too. There is a similarity about them. They both have that swaggering attitude to life and see themselves as the all-conquering male and the strange thing is that while I resent it strongly, I am attracted by it. I am determined to resist submission and yet at the same time I enjoy being conquered.

It was a pity Lisette had not come with us. She would force me to be absolutely frank about my feeling for Dickon.

Right from the first I was exhilarated. It was a battle between us from which both he and I were determined to come out victorious. He saw himself as the irresistible seducer; I, as the woman who, if tempted, was not going to sink her pride so deeply that she forgot her marriage vows and the fact that this man had jilted her in favour of a great property.

On that afternoon I had not gone very far when I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and looking over my shoulder was not at all surprised to see Dickon.

‘Riding alone?’ he said. ‘That won’t do.’

‘I was finding it very pleasant.’

‘But so much more so with an interesting and charming companion who knows the countryside well.’

‘Your assessment of your character is your own, of course, and the countryside is not altogether unfamiliar to me. Remember I lived here once.’

‘Don’t remind me, Lottie. My life took the wrong turning when you went away.’

‘The wrong one? To Eversleigh, to the Bank, is it? … the life at Court, the fingers in pies? Oh, Dickon, how can you be so ungrateful to the fate which brought you all these good things!’

‘I am not ungrateful. I am just telling you that the very thing which would have made my happiness complete was denied me.’

‘You look contented with life, Dickon. I would forget the extra flavouring and thank God for your good fortune.’

‘I missed you, Lottie.’

‘One does miss people sometimes when they go away.’

‘You went to France for a holiday and stayed there.’

‘And you came to Eversleigh. It was yours; the dream of your life—or the chief one at that time—come true. What more could you ask?’

‘You, Lottie, with it.’

‘But there was a choice, wasn’t there? One or the other.’

‘You were a child. I didn’t know then … ’

‘It is strange to hear you admit ignorance. Shall we talk of something more interesting.’

‘This is of the utmost interest to me.’

‘But not to me and it takes two to make a conversation. Tell me about affairs in London. There is a great deal of talk in France about the American Colonies.’

‘Talk!’ he said. ‘There is more than talk. The wretched French are helping the rebels.’

‘I believe some people even over here think they are right.’

‘There is no reason why foreigners should interfere.’

‘My husband is a staunch supporter of the colonists and thinks those in France who are seeking to help them are doing what is right.’

‘And you can live with such a traitor?’

‘Traitor? He is no traitor. He is a man of opinions.’

‘Are you in love with him?’

I hesitated for a moment and then replied almost defiantly: ‘Yes.’

‘A convincing negative,’ he said. ‘Lottie, don’t go back. Stay here.’

‘You must be mad. I have two children over there.’

‘We could send for them.’

‘You’re joking, of course. You have a most extraordinary high opinion of yourself. I suppose that comes of living your life with two adoring females.’

‘I think I see myself as I am.’

I laughed. ‘Tall, handsome, commanding, irresistible to all women, chivalrous—in conversation—honourable, never betraying anyone unless the price is high enough … ’

‘You are hard on me.’

‘I see you as you are.’

‘And if you were honest with yourself you would admit you like what you see.’

I pressed my horse to a gallop, for at that moment we had come into open country.

He was beside me and I enjoyed the sheer exhilaration of the ride.

We came back past Enderby. It looked gloomy now. I remembered it as it had been when the Forsters had been there. They had cut away the shrubs which grew in profusion round the house; now they were overgrown again. I could see why it had a reputation for being haunted.

‘Would you like to look round it?’ asked Dickon. ‘We can get in easily through one of the ground-floor windows. It has a broken latch. The place is very overrun. It has been empty for two years.’

I wanted to go inside and yet on the other hand I was aware of warning within me. No, I must not go into that house. My mother had gone there with my father. Very possibly I had been conceived in that house. There was something about it which was apparent even from the outside. My mother, when she had told me about my birth, had felt that there was some spirit there … something which had the power to change people who entered.

Fanciful thinking, perhaps, but I would not go into that house with Dickon.

‘Not now,’ I said. ‘It’s getting too late.’

And turning our horses away we rode back to Eversleigh.

A groom was coming round by the house as we approached, and Dickon called to him to take our horses to the stables. Dickon leaped down before I could to help me. He took me in his arms and lifted me up as he had when I arrived. A gesture, I think, which was meant to be symbolic. He was strong. I was at his mercy.

‘Thank you,’ I said coolly. ‘Put me down.’

But for a few moments he held me, and I did not want to meet his eyes. I saw someone at a window looking down at us. Even as I looked up, whoever it was stepped back.

As Dickon put me on the ground I said: ‘Who is up there?’

‘Where?’ he asked idly.

‘That window … right at the top.’ I nodded in the direction and he looked up.

‘That would be old Grissel’s place.’

‘Old Grissel?’

‘One of the servants. Griselda. The boys call her Grissel. It fits.’

I went into the house, my thoughts full of Dickon and his implications so that I forgot about old Grissel until later.

I wanted to get to know something about Dickon’s sons and one morning, when I knew it was time for their break from lessons, I went up to the schoolroom.

The boys were seated at a table with Mr Raine their tutor drinking glasses of milk.

‘I hope I’m not intruding on lessons,’ I said.

‘Come in,’ called Jonathan.

Mr Raine assured me that this was the morning break and that the boys would not resume lessons for another fifteen minutes.

‘Then may I sit down and talk. I want to get to know you.’

Jonathan grinned at me; David looked interested.

‘I have a boy of my own in France,’ I said. ‘He must be about three years younger than you.’

‘Three years!’ said Jonathan with a look of contempt.

‘You were three years younger once,’ David reminded him.

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘Three years to be precise,’ said Mr Raine. ‘Now, boys, stop arguing and be civil to Madame de Tourville.’

‘You’re French,’ said Jonathan, who clearly said the first thing that came into his mind.

‘She knows that and doesn’t want you to tell her,’ added David, who seemed to have an irresistible urge to irritate his brother at every turn.

‘I am French,’ I explained, ‘because my father and my husband are. But I used to live here for a while before I went to France.’

‘That was years ago.’

‘Before you were born.’

They looked at me in wonder.

‘They are still too young to grasp the fact that there was a world here before they joined it,’ said Mr Raine.

‘I also have a little girl. She is very young … little more than a baby.’

They dismissed her as of no interest.

‘What is your boy’s name?’ asked Jonathan.

‘Charles. We call him Charlot.’

‘That’s a funny name,’ commented Jonathan.

‘It’s French, silly,’ said David. ‘Why didn’t you bring them with you?’

‘We had to come quickly and my daughter is too young to travel.’

‘Charlot could have come.’

‘Yes, I suppose he could.’

‘I wish he had,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’d have shown him my falcon. I’m teaching him. Jem Logger is showing me.’

‘Jonathan spends a great deal of time in the stables with his dogs and horses,’ said Mr Raine. ‘And now we have a falcon. He is, I am afraid, far more interested in them than he is in literature and mathematics.’

David smirked and Jonathan shrugged his shoulders.

‘Does Charlot have a tutor?’ asked David.

‘Not yet. He only has a nursery governess at the moment.’

‘Like Grissel?’ asked David and the boys looked at each other and laughed.

‘Grissel?’ I said. ‘Now, I believe I saw her.’

‘She doesn’t come out much.’

‘But she is your nurse.’

Jonathan said scornfully: ‘We don’t have a nurse. We’re too old.’

‘Then Grissel … ’

‘She came with the boys’ mother,’ explained Mr Raine. ‘She keeps herself very much apart, but continues to stay here. She is…. rather strange.’

The boys exchanged glances and smiled. The subject of Grissel seemed the only one they could agree about.

‘She walks in her sleep,’ said David.

Jonathan made claws of his fingers and put on an expression of malevolence at which David laughed.

Mr Raine changed the subject and showed me some of the boys’ work. Jonathan had a talent for sketching which rather surprised me. He had done some pictures of his dogs and horses which showed that he had a really sensitive touch. I admired them, which pleased him very much.

‘Jonathan’s one talent in the schoolroom,’ said Mr Raine. ‘But he is a great sportsman. David, of course, has sharp wits. He’s the academic.’

Both boys looked very pleased with themselves and it occurred to me that Mr Raine did not have a very easy time.

I looked at their work and listened attentively, but I would rather have heard more about Grissel.

I asked Sabrina.

‘Oh, Grissel is a silly old woman,’ she said. ‘I wish she would go, but where would she go to? She came with Isabel. She had been her nurse and you know how fanatical these old nurses can be about their charges. When Isabel died I think it turned her head slightly. Sometimes she seems to believe that Isabel is still here. It is very disconcerting but what can we do? We can’t ask her to go. She is too old to take another post.’

‘I know how it is with these nannies and have often thought how sad it must be for them when their children grow up and no longer need them. Then they go on to the next … if they are young enough and it all starts again.’

‘Unfortunately poor Griselda is not young enough. Oh, she is all right here. She has her two little rooms there in the east wing. Her food is taken in to her and we forget her for the most part. The only trouble is that she seems to have a most extraordinary attitude towards the twins. She dotes on Jonathan and seems to dislike David. It is odd. David doesn’t care. They both used to play tricks on her until that was stopped. But she is quiet most of the time.’

‘I saw her looking out of one of the windows when I was coming in with Dickon.’