The adulteress (34 page)

There were problems, of course. Lottie would have to have a governess. At Clavering she had taken lessons at the vicarage, but both Jean-Louis and I agreed that she should have her own governess now that she was growing up. Getting the house in order was a trifling matter compared with running the estate. Criminal though he was, Amos Carew had been an excellent manager and although he was dishonest, he had got the best out of the estate.

"What we need," I said to Jean-Louis, "is a first-class manager. Someone like James Fenton."

"We shall be extremely lucky if we get anyone as good as James," said Jean-Louis.

"I wonder how he likes farming with his cousin?" I mused.

"Well, he was the sort of man who would strike out on his own one day, I daresay," said Jean-Louis.

"We must look round for someone to manage the estate," I insisted.

"I'll be all right for a while," Jean-Louis replied.

It was sad. Before his accident he would have been equal to the task of looking after an estate the size of Eversleigh. I knew now though that we could not wait too long before find-

ing the right man. After the experience of Amos Carew we should have to be careful. I think I should always be suspicious of everyone after having known him. Sometimes I woke up out of a nightmare when I was looking into a masked face which I believed to be Dickon's. I would always awake with a terrible start and have to convince myself that it was all a dream; and in any case my would-be murderer had not been Dickon. He had been my savior.

I was in discussion with Mrs. Jethro one afternoon when one of the servants came to tell me that I had a visitor.

I was so certain that it was Isabel that I did not ask who it was.

"She's in the winter parlor, madam," said the servant.

I hurried down and opened the door, smiling. I stood absolutely still. The woman who rose from the chair was not Isabel. I felt a tingle of fear run through me. It was Evalina.

She came forward smiling.

"I thought I'd better be neighborly," she said.

I stammered: "It was good of you to call."

"Well, we live close now, don't we? You mistress of Evers-leigh Court and me of Grasslands."

I nodded. "Would you care for some refreshment?"

"Oh no. I'm getting so fat. I'm a little too fond of the good things of life. Aren't we all?"

"I suppose so. Do sit down."

She did so. I sat too. I felt my heart beating uncomfortably.

"It seems a long time," she said. "But it's not all that time, is it?"

"I hear you have a little boy."

"My Richard." She looked straight at me smiling. "What a blessing! Nothing like little ones, is there? My poor Andrew . . . he's overcome with joy. You can imagine. He never thought for a moment there'd be a child. Well, life's full of surprises, isn't it?"

"I am sure he is delighted."

"Just as your dear husband was when you told him you were expecting, I daresay. These men . . . they do like little ones, don't they? . . . particularly when they've given up all hope."

"I am sure the little boy has brought great happiness to you both."

"Yes . . . just like your little girl. I say, what a little beau-

ty, eh? Wait till she's a bit older! She'll have them all buzzing round her, won't she? Little bit of honey, that's what she is . . . and you can't keep bees off honey. I told Andrew what a little pet she was. Nice laughing ways . . . Frenchified, I said to Andrew."

She was baiting me. Why had she come here like this? I was beginning to wish I was back at Clavering.

But I was not going to let her intimidate me with her innuendos.

I said: "How is your mother?"

"Oh ... I never hear a word from her now. . . . She'll be off somewhere. Shouldn't be surprised if she's gone abroad. It wasn't her fault, you know. It was Amos. He always made her do what he wanted. There's some men like that. You and me . . . we're lucky. We've got our two dear little children. It was funny the way they took to each other. My little Richard just laughed up at her and wouldn't stop looking. He don't do that to everyone, I can tell you. It was as though they knew they were two of a kind."

"Two of a kind?"

"Yes, my little Richard and your little Lottie. A sort of fellow feeling. Funny how these children are."

She was looking at me insolently. I was thinking: Dickon was here. They were together. . . . Was she telling me something? Did she mean that she and I were of a kind?

Her eyes were sparkling.

She said slowly: "I shall never forget the first time we met. You came to Eversleigh . . . and there was that man over at Enderby, that French gentleman. He was a charmer, wasn't he?" She laughed. "Well, he went off, didn't he? Very different they are at Enderby now. The Forsters . . . not the sort you'd expect to find in a house like that. The doctor's a fine gentleman. Have you met him? You'd like him." She laughed. "Different from the French gentleman. ... A bit on the gloomy side . . . but a change is nice, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked suddenly.

"Oh, nothing. Just rambling on. I do, Andrew tells me. He likes it ... he laughs at me. He's a very grateful man. Well, who wouldn't be, presented with a son at his time of life? Just what he'd always wanted and never thought he could get."

She started to laugh.

I stood up. I said: "I know you'll forgive me. As we have only just come there is so much to do."

She rose drawing on her gloves. She was very properly dressed for the call.

"Well, we're neighbors now," she said. "There'll be plenty of opportunities for little chats."

She took my hand and smiled into my face.

I thought she looked sly, menacing.

I conducted her to the door and watched her walk away.

I felt more than a twinge of alarm.

The idea of giving a housewarming party came to me when I was with Isabel one morning. We were becoming good friends and I found her presence very comforting. She knew so much about the customs of the neighborhood and was on good terms with most of the people.

She was saying that I should meet some of the families round about; there might only be three big houses but the farms were occupied by some very pleasant people and although there were a few of these on the Grasslands and En-derby estates most of them belonged to Eversleigh.

Then I said: "There must be a gathering ... a party."

Isabel was delighted with the idea. "I believe in the old days," she said, "there was one given every year at the big house."

"That would be in Carleton's day, I should imagine. Perhaps my great-uncle General Eversleigh continued the tradition."

"Well, it lapsed when the last Lord Eversleigh was there."

"He was too ill, and I daresay Jessie didn't relish having half the neighborhood there."

"I wonder she didn't invite them in her role of mistress of the house."

"There must have been some lengths to which even Jessie wouldn't go. But now I think, it's a good idea to get back to the old ways."

"I am sure everyone will be delighted."

"You must help me draw up a list of the guests."

We spent a pleasant hour doing this.

"I hope you won't forget my brother-in-law."

"The doctor. No, of course not. If he wishes to come. Perhaps he will be too involved with his work. Will you ask him?"

"I will indeed. And what about some of the people in the town? The solicitors, for one thing?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Rosen . . . both senior and junior."

"There, you see. It is quite a formidable list. Oh ... I don't think it will be necessary for me to ask my brother-in-law. I can hear voices. Yes, it is he. You can ask him yourself."

So that was how I met Charles Forster again.

I had forgotten how tall he was. Also that air of melancholy. It was not my custom to find unhappy people interesting. I was attracted by lively characters—people like Gerard and my dear Lottie. But Charles Forster fascinated me from the first. I wanted to know more about him; why he wore that air of almost desperation. His face was thin with high cheekbones and very deepset gray eyes; the gray wig drawn from his face and tied at the back with a black ribbon was perhaps a little out of date but he was the sort of man who would make no concessions to fashion—in fact I believed he would be entirely unaware of it. His dark blue coat was full and came to the knees, hiding his plain cloth breeches; his long muscular legs were encased in light brown stockings and as he came in he carried a three-cornered hat unadorned by feathers.

"Charles!" cried Isabel, her face lighting up with pleasure. "How nice to see you. Here is Mistress Zipporah Ransome. You have already met . . . some time ago."

He took my hand and we looked steadily at each other.

"You've forgotten me," I said.

"Indeed I have not. You were staying at Eversleigh."

"Yes . . . and now I live there."

"That unfortunate business is settled, I hope."

"Oh yes ... as near as it can be."

Isabel was already pouring out a glass of wine.

"Now, Charles," she said, "you must take refreshment. He doesn't look after himself, you know."

"Isabel clucks over me as though she's a mother hen and I'm one of her wayward chicks," he said.

"I should never have thought of calling you a chick," said Isabel. "What news is there?"

He gave me his melancholy smile. "My news is always the same and therefore it doesn't deserve the name news. Several fresh cases at the hospital, and I expect the population will be increased by five before the end of the day."

"I have heard about your hospital," I said. "It must be rewarding work."

He frowned a little and said: "Not always. There are times when it is. . . . But then that's life, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. It can't be good all the time. We can only rejoice when it is and hope it will get better when it isn't."

"I can see you have the right idea."

"Are you busy with the patients?" asked Isabel. "I hear there is a lot of sickness about."

"No more than usual. I've just come from Grasslands. And as I was close I thought I'd look in."

"I should have been most put out if you hadn't. Is it Andrew Mather?"

"Yes. He's not strong, you know. It's his heart. It will give out one day. He's got a great will to live, though. I think that's due to his young wife and the baby. He's a very happy man. Not the sort that will give up. He'll cling to life as long as he can."

"And that will help?" I asked.

"Indeed yes. Many people die because they lack the will to live. Andrew Mather will never lack that."

"It's strange," said Isabel, "that a girl like that could bring so much to a man like Andrew Mather."

"Yes," mused the doctor. "I remember him before his marriage. He was ready to give up then . . . and slip gracefully into the role of invalid and then that girl comes along . . . fascinates him . . . and although her motives might not have been entirely altruistic she has given him a new lease of life."

"It reminds me of the old saying which goes something like this: There is a little good in the worst of us and a little bad in the best of us and it ill behoves any of us to criticize the rest of us.' "

"Neat," said the doctor, "and true. In any case I'm delighted with Andrew since his marriage, and now that he has a son . . . why, he could live to be a hundred."

"By the way," I said, "we are going to have a housewarm-ing. I do hope you will come."

"I will with pleasure," he said.

"I am delighted."

"You'd better put him on the list," said Isabel.

"I shall remember," I said. I rose. I had a great deal to do back at the house, I explained, and I should be seeing Isabel again soon.

"Did you come on horseback?" asked the doctor.

I said I had.

"Then let us ride back together. I pass Eversleigh on my way to the town."

So we rode out together. We talked of many things on the way back, of the countryside, the hospital and his practice, of our return to Eversleigh.

As we walked our horses along the winding path that led to the house a rider came toward us. To my dismay I saw that it was Evalina.

She halted as she came up to us.

"Good day to you both," she said. Her eyes were sly as they ranged over us. "A lovely day to take a ride."

"Good day," I said and urged my horse on.

Dr. Forster bowed to Evalina and walked his horse behind mine. I felt the color rising in my neck. That look in Evalina's eyes disturbed me. What was she suggesting? That I was another such as I was sure she was? That I could pass from one man to another with the ease of a harlot?

There was so much in that look. Every time it said: We are two of a kind.

Of one thing I was certain: I would not put her on my list of guests. I could not have her at Eversleigh. I should be reminded of her mother . . . and perhaps at the back of my mind was the fear of the hints she might drop . . . perhaps to Jean-Louis.

The doctor had brought his horse to walk beside mine.

"You look annoyed," he said.

"It must be that woman. She reminds me . . ."

"I suppose she is not to blame for her mother's misdeeds. But I know how you feel."

"I shall not ask her to Eversleigh."

"Oh . . . the housewarming, you mean. I don't think for a moment that her husband would be able to come. I was saying how much better he was but he is still an old man. Such festivities are not for him and he would be the first to admit it."

"Then he wouldn't expect an invitation."

"I'm sure he wouldn't."

"That makes it easier."

We had stopped. He was giving me another of those steady glances.

"I hope," he said, "that someday you will come and see my hospital."

"I should like that."

He bowed his head and turned away.

I rode into the stables. It had been a most enjoyable morning apart from the meeting with Evalina in the lane.

Preparations were going ahead. Jean-Louis thought it was an excellent way of bringing everyone together and showing them that life at Eversleigh was going to be as it had been in the days of Carleton, Leigh and General Carl. The manor house should be the center of the community. The farmers were pleased. It was different taking one's grievances to a landowner rather than merely to his manager. They had all been shocked to learn that they had a criminal in their midst; and although the affair had provided a great flutter of excitement while it had lasted, there was nothing like normality to bring prosperity to an estate—and when that was present everyone could benefit from it.