The Reckoning (33 page)

‘
Wearing a Cap of Liberty and waving the Tricolor. And
the second of his meetings turned into a march on the Tower.
That's exactly how the French Revolution started, with the
storming of the Bastille. An army marched through the
streets of London – shops were looted – a man was killed –
what more do you want? We've got to stamp out this nonsense
before it goes any further. And I tell you something else,' he
went on, silencing whatever James was about to say. 'There's
something going on in the Hampden Clubs. I can't find out
what it is, but they're seething like an ant's nest, and there's
going to be trouble from them before we're much older.’

With that he turned and stumped out, and Tiger oozed out
from under the table and padded after him.

‘
Oh dear, poor Edward,' Héloïse said anxiously. 'He does
seem upset.'

‘
Pay no attention,' James said blithely. 'I never do. He's
always fulminating about something.'

‘
But he looks so tired. He does too much. He is not a young
man any more.'

‘He always did too much. You'll never stop him. That's just Ned, Marmoset. He likes to keep busy, that's all.'

‘
But now there's the worry about the reformists, too. I
don't think he is looking well.'

‘
Old Ned's as strong as a horse,' James said, wiping his lips
and standing up. He came round the table to kiss his wife. ‘If
you want to worry about anyone, worry about me. I've got a
youngster to back this morning, and from the look in his eye,
he's going to give me trouble.'

‘
Oh, be careful, James,' she said at once, and he grinned.
‘Now
that's
better.’

Father Moineau got up too, and went off to collect his
pupils from the nursery, and Sophie went away to write a
letter to Rosamund, with whom she kept up a regular corres
pondence, leaving Héloïse and Miss Rosedale alone at the
table.

After a moment, Miss Rosedale cleared her throat and said,
‘I'm glad to have a moment in private with you, ma'am.
There's something I want to speak to you about – a delicate
matter.’

Héloïse looked blank, unable to imagine what matter of
delicacy there could be between them. 'Is something wrong?'

‘
No – well, yes, in a way. It has been on my mind for some
time, and I'm afraid it may have been on yours, too, without
your knowing quite how to broach it.' Héloïse looked more
than ever mystified, and Miss Rosedale plunged on, an
uncharacteristic blush colouring her sensible cheeks. 'The fact
is that I think it's time – and past time – that I thought about
looking for another position.'

‘
You mean you want to leave us?' A more flattering dismay
no governess could have hoped to see on her employer's face.
‘But – but I thought you were happy here. I thought you liked
us.’

Miss Rosedale smiled ruefully. 'I am. I do. Good Lord, no-
one could have met with more kindness than I have at
Morland Place. But Mathilde is married, and Sophie is "out", and the boys have Father Moineau. There's nothing for me to
do here any more.'

‘
But you do so much for me,' Héloïse said, and stopped,
and began again, tentatively. 'Perhaps – if it is a matter of
your salary, I think we could manage a small increase –’

Now Miss Rosedale laughed aloud. 'Oh ma'am! It isn't
that! Quite the opposite – I can't justify the salary you pay me
now. I'm not earning my keep, and I feel guilty about it. And knowing you, I'm afraid you are thinking the same thing, but
are too kind to say so straight out.’

Héloïse looked relieved. 'If
that
is all your trouble ... Let us
be quite frank with each other: do you want to leave? Would
you be happier in another position?'

‘
No,' she said hesitantly. 'No, I don't want to go. I've come
to regard this as my home. But –'

‘
There is no "but". Dear Rosey, I could not do without you, and nor could Sophie, and I don't want you to go. Please stay!
In a little while, if you'll be patient, I expect there will be
babies again. Sophie will marry one day, and perhaps she will
send her sons to you. And Mathilde may not want her
children taught by a stranger. And then when the boys grow
up and marry –'

‘
Dear ma'am, you don't need to offer me any other induce
ment to stay, than to say you want me! I'm not a young
woman, and uprooting myself at this time of my life was not
something I looked forward to.’

Héloïse sighed with satisfaction and stood up. 'Then that's
settled. You will stay, please, and regard this as your home.
And don't frighten me again in that way.'

‘
I won't, I promise,' Miss Rosedale said. She managed to
wait until Héloïse had left the room before rummaging in her
sleeve for her big white handkerchief. Seldom could an
educationist have had less to cry about, she knew, which
made the lump in her throat doubly hard to swallow.

*

That Edward's prediction of a storm was right was apparent
to everyone by the middle of the day. The barometer went on
falling, through
Rain
and
Much Rain
to the Stygian depths of
Stormy.
Clouds crept up silently like assassins from the south
west and gathered in a dark and threatening mass. The swans
disappeared off the moat, and the chickens went to roost at
noon, huddling in the hen-house as though it were night time.
Indeed, it began to get dark at about two o'clock, and the
trees, which had been eerily still all day, began to whisper
intermittently of impending trouble.

The brooding atmosphere made Héloïse nervous, and she
was glad as the premature darkness thickened and the wind
began to get up, to have all her family safe indoors. Edward
and James were the last, coming in together from the yard,
having checked that the horses were settled and that their
half-doors were shut and bolted.

‘
It's going to blow some,' James said, rubbing his hands
before the hall fire. Tiger nudged him out of the way and
gazed into the flames, reflecting them in his strange yellow
eyes. 'Do you think we ought to have the shutters put up,
Ned?'

‘
Might as well,' Edward said. 'Better safe than sorry. I'll
tell Ottershaw.'

‘Did you get the sheep in?' Héloïse asked.

‘
Yes. They know there's a bad one coming,' he said. 'We
hardly needed dogs. As soon as we opened the gate they came
streaming through and made for the close of their own
accord.'

‘
Strange how animals know, isn't it? The horses are restless,
too,' James said. 'I've warned the grooms at Twelvetrees to
stay alert. It only takes the crash of a tile coming off the roof,
or something blowing over, to set them all panicking.' He
looked around, at a loss for a moment. 'What time will dinner
be?'

‘
At five o'clock, as always,' Héloïse said. 'We didn't look to
have you all at home an hour before time.'

‘
No matter. I'll go and have a game of merels with Benedict
until the dressing-bell. That boy is getting uncannily good at it.'

‘
They are still at their lessons. They don't finish until five.’

‘
We'll make today a special day,' James said, heading for
the stairs.

The wind went on rising. After dinner, James went out to
check on the horses again, and came back to report that it
was now blowing a gale. 'A real sou'wester. It was quite hard
getting across the yard. But all's peaceful inside the stables –like a haven, when you come in out of the wind. I've set two
lads to refilling the hay-nets. The horses will be happy enough
as long as they've got something to chew. Oh,' he laughed,
‘and I counted eleven cats in there! Trust them to know a
warm, safe place. There was one actually sitting on Victor's
back, couched down on his loins with its paws tucked in and
its ears at half-mast!’

They gathered around the drawing-room fire for the
evening. It burned brightly with a red heart and white-gold
flames too hot to allow the logs to spit and crack as they
usually did. The wind crooned around the side of the house,
making the drawing-room shutters creak and click as they
worked against their fastenings, and moaned in the chimney
with a strangely human voice.

‘
I love that sound,' Sophie said, looking up for a moment
from her sewing. 'It makes indoors feel so warm and safe.'

‘
It is strange that there is no rain, though,' Héloïse said,
holding up the baby-dress she was smocking for Mathilde's
expected baby, to see if the pleating was even. The baby was due at any time, now — James's first grandchild. 'I wonder if
it will be a girl or a boy,' she murmured.

‘Boy, of course,' James said.

‘
It's hard to think of Mathilde being a mother,' Sophie
said.

Héloïse smiled. 'Harder for me than for you. To me she is
still the little girl I brought up.’

Hardest of all for me, Edward thought, but he said
nothing. He looked at the baby-dress and then away again.
The wind rose a pitch, and Tiger, lying flat out, belly to the
fire, lifted his head for a moment as if he had heard a distant
voice. 'There'll be some branches down tomorrow,' Edward
said to change the subject. 'Plenty of clearing-up to do — as if
we weren't busy enough already. Well,' he stood up, 'I think I
shall go on up to bed. Good night, everyone.’

A murmured chorus answered him, and Héloïse looked up
and smiled as he passed her chair. A little later, she too got
up. 'I've done enough for tonight. My eyes are not what they
were for this small stitchery. I think I shall go to the chapel
one last time before bed.’

Their night candles were all assembled ready on the pier table outside the drawing-room door. Héloïse took hers up
and lit it from the common candle, and walked down the little
passage past the steward's room door to the chapel. Inside all
was dark except for the distant red glow of the sanctuary-lamp. She closed the door behind her and walked forward
down the aisle. Her shadow jumped away from her and flung
itself upwards across the walls as her candle flame wavered.
The windows must not fit quite tightly, she thought. The air should have been still, but there was quite a bit of movement.