The Adultress (18 page)

“Well then, would you like to come straight to his lordship?” She looked at me. “It was his orders,” she said.

So while our baggage was brought in we went to Uncle Carl’s room. He was seated in a chair by the window. He looked exactly the same as I remembered him—parchment-wrinkled skin and those strikingly lively dark eyes.

He turned to us and gave an exclamation of delight.

“Ah … you’re here. Come in. Come in. Oh, this is a pleasure. Now … you’re Sabrina. Ah yes, of course … Damaris’s girl. Good girl Damaris, and of course my dear Zipporah.” He gripped my hand and held it firmly. “And this …”

“He’s Richard, we call him Dickon … my son,” said Sabrina.

“Yes, yes … indeed. Welcome … welcome … Now, Jessie, have you given them something to eat?”

“Why bless you, they’ve only just come and it was your orders that they was to be brought straight to you. They say they’ll wait till supper.”

“Well … well. Bring chairs for them, Jessie.”

She did so, smiling at us, the stones in her ears twinkling.

“Now is there anything else you want before I leave you for a little family chat? When you’re ready pull the bell rope. I’ll have hot water sent to your rooms. I expect you want to wash and change. You must be tired after your journey.” She turned to Uncle Carl and lifted a finger. “Don’t forget they’ve had a long journey.”

“No. I don’t forget. It was good of you to come to see me. Would you want to go straight to your rooms?”

“In a little while,” I said. “But it is wonderful to see you looked after so well.”

His bright eyes looked straight into mine. “Jessie takes good care of me … thank
you
.” I was not sure whether or not he winked at me.

We talked awhile; mostly he was recalling the past. Sabrina was more conversant with that, being older than I and having been part of the earlier scene. Dickon got up and walked round the room examining the paneling and the wonderful old fireplace which was intricately carved with scenes from the Wars of the Roses.

I had never known him so quiet.

Uncle Carl asked solicitously after Jean-Louis and thanked me for the letters I had sent since we had last been together. It was all very conventional conversation and I began to think that it all seemed very normal and quite different from on that previous visit. After a while Dickon pulled the bell rope and it was Jessie who came up to take us to our rooms. She behaved with decorum and only occasionally stepped out of her role as housekeeper to assume that of mistress of the house.

I had the same room as I had had before, and I felt poignant memories flooding over me. I went to the window through which Gerard had climbed. Behind me was the bed on which we had spent that last ecstatic and melancholy night.

I wished I had not come. The memories were all bitter now.

Sabrina came in. She sat on my bed and smiled at me.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be so … normal.

“No.” I said. “Nor I. What did you think of Jessie?”

“Too flamboyant. Too much carmine and white lead.”

“She’s very subdued compared with what she was. Do you think she gives herself an air?”

“In a way. I expect it’s because she is so useful. She runs the household, that’s obvious … and from what I’ve seen does it rather well.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s different. …”

“Oh, I expect she was just trying to show how important she was to the household. Perhaps now that’s obvious and she feels she doesn’t have to assert herself. She’s blowsy. Probably on the stage at one time and now feels this is a good safe place to settle in.”

“But you know she got Uncle Carl to sign a paper. …”

“I remember your telling us. Well, that was long ago, wasn’t it? She seems to have settled down. Not the ideal housekeeper. I suppose … but we’ll watch her while we’re here. Dickon, by the way, is completely fascinated by the place. He thinks it so interesting. He’s going to explore tomorrow, he says.”

“I noticed how interested he was.”

“He is so enthusiastic about old places. It’s wonderful to see him so excited. He can be very serious at times. I know you haven’t forgiven him for Hassock’s fire … but he mustn’t be made to feel he’s to blame for Jean-Louis’s accident. He mustn’t, Zipporah. I know what that sort of guilt can do to an impressionable child. I suffered it myself.”

“I don’t think Dickon suffers from that. I don’t think he gives it a thought.”

“There are things you don’t understand about Dickon. I know you think your mother and I spoil him …”

“I understand how you feel about him. He’s your son.”

“I’m so proud of him,” said Sabrina. “He’s beginning to look so like his father.”

Dear Sabrina! Hers had been a tragic life, in a way. I went to her and kissed her.

“It’s so fascinating to be here … in the old place I know so well.”

“I don’t think we should stay more than two weeks.”

“Why, Zipporah, we have only just come. You don’t want to go home already.”

I thought: I do. I am going to be miserable here… … There is too much to remember.

“You hate leaving Lottie. Admit it.”

“Yes,” I said. “I want to be with her.”

“It’ll soon pass … and we shall be on the road again.”

I nodded fervently, wishing that I had never come.

I spent a restless night, haunted by dreams. Once I woke up and thought there was a rattle on the window. I got out of bed foolishly expecting to see Gerard there. Oh, I should never have come. There were so many memories.

Although the atmosphere of the house had changed subtly and it now had a more conventional aspect, there were one or two incidents to remind me of the past.

I had an opportunity to be alone with Uncle Carl and he smiled at me knowingly, making me feel that there was a secret between us.

“It’s right,” he said, “that you should come now and then … Zipporah. Come more often. You must keep an eye on things, mustn’t you? Because one day you’ll be mistress here. That was the will, you remember.”

“I remember,” I said.

“You and your heirs will live here one day. And gradually all the ancestors will be at rest. Oh, it’s a very comfortable life here for me. You’re a clever girl. You saw how it should be done, didn’t you? Life is good here. … You said something to Jessie … did you?”

“I pointed out that her well-being depended on yours,” I said.

He gave a deep laugh in his throat and went on laughing: For a moment I thought he was going to choke.

“That was it. Oh, I’m cosseted, Zipporah. Mustn’t be upset … they’ve got to keep me alive, haven’t they?”

“They are here to look after you. And you have not signed any more pieces of paper?”

He shook his head and looked crafty. “Nothing,” he said. “I’ve not been asked to. You must have explained it all pretty clearly. Clever girl, Zipporah. You’ll be a good mistress of Eversleigh. I feel very pleased with myself.”

“You still have the same agent?”

“Oh yes, Amos Carew is still here … couldn’t easily do without him.”

“I see. Well, everything seems to have worked out satisfactorily.”

“Clever Zipporah!” he said.

I was amazed that he could calmly contemplate keeping a housekeeper who might possibly want to get rid of him—but why couch the language in such terms? Why not say, who would be prepared to murder him if the stakes were high enough?

How could he tolerate such a woman! But it was of course that sexual magnetism. She had that, I was sure, and it would appeal very strongly to a certain type of man. It was her weapon, and heaven knew she used it to advantage.

Still, -I no longer felt uneasy. Uncle Carl would be well looked after until the day he died, for it was very necessary for Jessie to keep him alive.

Dickon, true to his word, explored the house from top to bottom. Evalina showed him round. It was Jessie’s suggestion that she should. He was completely entranced by the place and when he asked that he be permitted to accompany Amos Carew on his rounds of the estate, and he was allowed to do so, he came back, eyes shining.

“It’s worth three of Clavering,” he said.

He went out a great deal with Amos Carew and the two of them seemed to he getting really friendly. Amos told Sabrina that he was more than an interested observer. On one or two occasions he had given Amos a hand with the estate work. He really enjoyed it and had a flair for it. “He seems to grasp a problem in no time. He’s got a gift for estate management, if you will forgive me saying so, madam,” he told Sabrina.

She was very proud of her son. It was the first time Dickon had ever shown interest in work of any kind. We had heard from the curate that he was a reluctant scholar, quite different from Tom Sanders, the vicar’s son with whom he shared his lessons.

Quite often Sabrina and I rode together. I think we both shared mixed feelings about these excursions—indeed about the entire visit. Sabrina’s memories were not so recent as mine nor so poignant; they were melancholy, though. She hated to go past the lake near Enderby where once she had had an accident while skating and was saved by her mother, whose death, many said, had been hastened by the event. And yet … her horse always seemed to lead her to Enderby. There was an irresistible urge to go near the place where she had been unhappy. I understood perfectly because it was the same with me. I also found it hard to keep away. When we went out on foot I could never resist stepping over the broken palings and walking into the haunted patch. Perhaps I felt that Gerard would suddenly appear there as he had the first time I saw him.

“It’s a gloomy spot,” said Sabrina. “I don’t know why we come here.”

“There’s something fascinating about it.”

“Fascinating but repelling,” agreed Sabrina.

“I’m tired,” I said. “Let’s sit.”

“Here? Within sight of old Enderby and the ghost patch?”

“Why not? I’ve a feeling we are safe here today.”

We sat down leaning against those palings where they were not broken.

“I wonder they don’t clear up this place,” said Sabrina. “This was a rose garden at one time.”

“Perhaps no one wants to have anything to do with it.”

Sabrina said: “Sitting here like this when it is so quiet all around I could go right back to my childhood.”

I nodded. I was back on that evening at dusk when I had stepped over those palings and first met Gerard.

“You’ll have Eversleigh one day, Zipporah.” said Sabrina.

“That is if Uncle Carl doesn’t change his mind.”

“How can he?”

“Well, Jessie might persuade him to yet.”

“She’d have to get over those solicitors of his. I reckon they’d soon be up in arms if she tried to do anything like that. His mind seems very lively.”

I nodded, thinking of myself going into his room starry-eyed from my encounter with Gerard and Uncle Carl’s looking at me and calling me Carlotta. Had that been deliberate or had he really thought for a moment that I was the girl he had once admired so much?

“Your mother and I have talked a lot about … Dickon.”

I smiled and Sabrina went on: “I know you think we talk about little else.”

“You are rather devoted to the boy.”

“You understand, Zipporah.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Well, we are a bit concerned about him … what he’ll do when he grows up. You see … if you have Eversleigh … Jean-Louis will go there with you. He can’t manage Clavering as well. Clavering belonged to your father and you are the heir to that. You see you are rather a fortunate young woman, Zipporah. Two estates falling into your lap.”

“Clavering belongs to my mother,” I said quickly, “and she is young yet.”

“Oh, I know … but we talked of these things. They have to be arranged, you know, and it is unwise to put off talking of them because you’re trying to delude yourself into thinking your loved ones are immortal.”

“My mother discussed this, did she?”

“Yes. We thought that if and when Eversleigh is yours she might—if you were agreeable—make over Clavering to Dickon.”

“I see.” I said slowly.

“You see.” went on Sabrina eagerly, “he will have no inheritance really except what I have had from my father. He was not rich and times have been hard. Money has lost much of its value. Houses … land … they are the only assets which don’t seem to deteriorate. It would only happen of course if Eversleigh became yours. You can’t be in two places at once.”

“No. … What of Jean-Louis?”

“We thought you could talk it over with him.”

“He has put a great deal into Clavering.”

“I know.”

“He loves the place. He was brought up there, you know, as I was … apart from the time I spent in London before, before …”

Sabrina had turned sharply away. She could not bear any reference to my father’s death.

I went on quickly: “I am sure he would realize that if I were to inherit Eversleigh we should have to come here. That is the idea, isn’t it? The family continuing through the generations. Then of course he couldn’t be in Clavering. I will talk to him about it.”

“Thank you, Zipporah. You see, if Dickon develops this love of estate managing, it would be just what he needed … and with an estate of his own …”

“I do see,” I said. “I think it would be the only solution … if … and when. … But I don’t count on it, Sabrina. I know you see my uncle as an old man looked after in a well-run household by a housekeeper who takes a few liberties to which we have to turn a blind eye because she really is doing a necessary job and Uncle Carl is satisfied with the way she does it. When I came before it didn’t seem quite like that.”

“Well, it is all right now. Jessie sees which side her bread is buttered and she’ll keep on enjoying it for as long as she can, which means Uncle Carl lives on.”

As we were getting up a woman walked by.

She was fresh-faced, middle-aged and gave us a pleasant smile.

“Good day,” she said and hesitated.

We returned the greeting and she went on: “I have seen you around in the last few days. You’re staying at the Court, aren’t you?”

We told her we were and she said: “I live at Enderby.”

I felt my heart begin to beat fast. Gerard’s friends—the owners of Enderby who had lent him the house while they were away. Perhaps I could get news of him.