The Adultress (35 page)

“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 Enderby 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 housewarming. 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.

I heard through Charles that Andrew Mather was confined to his bed with rheumatism, so I felt that I was justified in not sending an invitation to Grasslands.

The new cook, Mrs. Baines, was in her element: the servants were in a state of perpetual excitement decorating the place with the help of the gardeners; the house was filled with the smells of cooking, and the main topic of conversation was the party.

Lottie seemed to be everywhere; she tried on her dress ten times a day, danced round the ball room with imaginary partners, was in the kitchen tasting the various cakes and sweetmeats; prevailing on Mrs. Baines to cook her what she called little tasters.

“I wish,” said Lottie, “that we had a party every day.”

“That would be far too much,” I assured her.

“Well, one a week,” she temporized.

Lessons, which she had taken with me since we came to Eversleigh, we passed over for a few days. I had warned her that as soon as we were settled we must look for a governess. Lottie grimaced but she could not think beyond the party.

It was about three days before the party when having walked over to Enderby for a chat with Isabel to tell her of the final plans for the great day, I encountered Evalina.

I believed that she had lain in wait for me.

“Oh … good day to you,” she cried. “You must be very busy getting ready for your party.”

“Good day,” I replied. “Yes, I am.” I prepared to pass on. But she was barring my way with that sly look in her eyes.

“All the neighborhood will be there,” she said. “So I hear …but there are exceptions.”

“It is impossible to ask everyone, I suppose,” I said.

“Impossible? Oh, no, not that. Unneighborly, I’d say.”

I replied: “I didn’t send you an invitation. I know that your husband is not fit to come.”

“But I am,” she said.

“I had not thought you would wish to … without him.”

“Andrew is a kind husband. He wouldn’t want to spoil my fun.”

She was leering at me in a way I found most unpleasant. I thought, somewhat irrelevantly, that I preferred Jessie to her daughter.

“Well,” I said lamely, “the invitations have all gone out now. I naturally thought …”

“There’s time to send out one more.”

This was blatant. She was asking for an invitation. Asking? She was demanding it.

“I reckon,” she said, “it would look funny if I wasn’t there. People would say: ‘Why weren’t you there?’ I’d have to think up something to tell them, wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t want to but I couldn’t let that pass … somehow … could I?”

This is blackmail, I thought.

She was smiling at me sweetly, helplessly, as though I were forcing her into a situation which had no charm for her.

Standing there in that lane I was suddenly afraid. I wished I was back at Clavering. I thought of her whispering something into Jean-Louis’s ear and a vision of his kind, patient face rose before me.

I loved him; I would do anything rather than hurt him. I know I had forgotten him when I had been caught in the fascination of passionate love with another man. If I could go back I would be different. I would never let it happen. But that was not true. It would be exactly the same, I knew it. I yearned for Gerard. I longed for Gerard. I loved Jean-Louis, yes … but what I had felt for Gerard was something different … beyond love, perhaps.

There was one thought hammering in my brain. Jean-Louis must never know.

I looked at this girl with her hateful sly face, with her veiled threats, and I loathed myself as I said: “Well, it is not too late, as you say. If you really want to come.”

She smiled at me, looking young and innocent.

“Oh, thank you. So I shall get my invitation? I don’t suppose Andrew will be able to come but he wouldn’t want to stop me enjoying myself.”

I couldn’t look at her. I turned away hating her, hating myself.

The party was in full swing. It had been a glorious spring day—as hot as summer—and everyone was saying that it was like old times. Eversleigh was coming into its own again. The farmers with their wives and families were delighted to have what they called the “Family” in command. I suppose poor Uncle Carl had been an invalid almost from the moment he had arrived and he had taken little interest in the estate. It was different with Jean-Louis: he had managed an estate before he came and all those who had talked with him recognized a man who knew his job.

Many of them remembered my mother and one or two of the really aged remembered the great Carleton Eversleigh, who, a hundred years before, when he had been a young man, had saved the mansion and estate from Cromwell’s rule.

They liked to feel that the family was in command again and things were not being left to the rogue Amos Carew had turned out to be. And as for that Jessie … they had all deplored her presence.

So it was a happy occasion until Evalina came.

It was asking too much to expect these people to forget who she was. She was the daughter of the infamous Jessie, who had been the mistress of the old lord at the same time as she was carrying on (as they said) with Amos Carew.