The Adulteress

Revelation in a Barn

TWO YEARS HAD PASSED since the birth of Lottie. I adored her. She was more than a long-wished-for child. She it was who had made bearable those months after I had said goodbye to Gerard. Preparing for her had occupied my time; I had found then that I could shut out almost everything in contemplating the joy her arrival would bring me.

Of course I had moments of deepest depression when I felt weighed down by my guilt; but Jean-Louis’s joy in the prospect of the child soothed me considerably. I could say to myself: But for what I have done this could not be happening now. But that could not make me forget the great deceit, and my conscience, after lying dormant for a few days, would rise up to torment me.

I had not paid another visit to Eversleigh but I was constantly saying that I must do so. I received letters from Uncle Carl and I gathered from them that everything was as it had been when I left. “Jessie takes good care of me,” he wrote, and I could hear him chuckle as he wrote that. He would remember that it was I who had insisted that she be told about the will for his own safety. I believed I had at least done what was best for him.

Jean-Louis was rather concerned about the state of affairs on the Continent, and I paid more attention to the talk about this than I ever had before because of what I believed to be Gerard’s involvement. There was a great deal of speculation about Madame de Pompadour, who was the power behind the French throne. Jean-Louis had engaged a young man, James Fenton, as agent and this was a sign that he could not do as much as he had done previously. James Fenton was a good agent; he had been for a spell in the army and seemed very knowledgeable about the military position. He interested Jean-Louis in it, saying that wars affected us all. We were indifferent in England because the war was not fought on our soil. We had had experience of how devastating that could be during our own civil war, but we felt remote from what was happening on the Continent; all the same, we should remember that England was involved in it.

I wondered often about Gerard. I guessed that the purpose of his visit to England had had something to do with the political situation. No doubt he had been discovering how England would react to events on the Continent and perhaps even assessing the effectiveness of our defenses along the coast and sending messages back across the sea. I would listen avidly to James Fenton, who noticed my interest and was delighted by it. He directed his remarks to me as often as he did to Jean-Louis; and the three of us would become involved in discussions of the rights and wrongs and the possible effects of the conflict.

“The Pompadour rules France,” said James, “not so much because of the hold she has on Louis but because he is too lazy to do so himself. He loves to leave affairs in her hands … which are capable enough … but perhaps not so good for France. She is a clever woman. She holds her sway over the king by seeing to his needs … in every direction. She procures little girls to amuse him in his bedchamber. It is said he has a penchant for young girls. The Parc aux Cerfs proves that.”

As I had never heard of the Parc aux Cerfs James explained that it was the Deer Park—an establishment where young girls from all walks of life whose only qualifications need to be beauty and a certain sensuality were trained to pander to the king’s pleasure.

Jean-Louis looked uneasy as though he did not like such matters to be discussed in my company.

“I’m sorry to speak of something so distasteful,” said James to me, “but to understand the situation you must know Louis and the Pompadour, and why she has this hold over him.”

I lowered my eyes. They could not guess that I myself was far from ignorant of the delights of sensual love.

There was a treaty which was called the Alliance des Trois Cotillons—the alliance of “three petticoats.” which referred to the agreement between Madame de Pompadour, Maria Theresa of Austria and Empress Elizabeth of Russia. It was important to us because no sooner had it been signed than England declared war on France.

Gerard’s country and mine were enemies—they had always been that, of course, but now they were engaged in a war … fighting on opposing sides. I wondered whether this would bring him back to England … secretly. … For a time I used to look out for him, telling myself that he would suddenly appear. Nothing of this sort happened and then I asked myself whether love affairs like that which there had been between us were commonplace with him. Could it be that he loved violently, dramatically … and then passed on to the next?

That was something I could not bear to contemplate. I had been shameful but at least for me it was for no petite passion, no passing whim of the moment.

And so the time began to slip by.

I had acquired an excellent nanny for Lottie. She was a great-niece of Nanny Curlew who had long since retired. But, said my mother, it was always wise to keep nannies in the family and we could be sure that a relative of Nanny Curlew’s would have been brought up to serve nobly in the honorable tradition.

And so it proved. From the moment she was installed in the household we knew we had a treasure in Nanny Derring. Dickon had scornfully rejected nannies some time ago, and because they could deny him nothing, the guardian of his nursery had been found another post and Dickon now went to the vicarage for lessons, which he shared with the vicar’s son, Tom, and which were taught by the resident curate. In due course he would go away to school.

Lottie grew more beautiful every day. She was very pretty with magnificent eyes—dark blue, fringed with incredibly long almost black lashes. “Her eyes are darker than yours were at her age,” said my mother. “Hers are violet. They always said that my mother, Carlotta, had violet eyes.”

Remarks like that always unnerved me temporarily. I wondered whether my mother noticed it.

Lottie also had a good deal of dark hair. It was almost black.

“She looks like a little French doll,” said Sabrina.

“French!” I cried.

“Well, Jean-Louis had a hand in it, didn’t he?” said Sabrina. “Sometimes I get the impression that you think you are wholly responsible for her.”

I must be careful. It could be over some small thing that I would betray myself. There was every reason why Lottie should look French. After all, the man who was supposed to be her father was of the same race as her actual one.

Jean-Louis adored her and she was fond of him. I was deeply moved to see him carry her round on his shoulder. I knew it was painful for him because to do so he abandoned his stick, but she loved it and was always trying to clamber up. She was now beginning to talk and was enchanting, murmuring to herself usually about Lottie—which was the word she used more than any other. Everything belonged to Lottie, she seemed to think; she was demanding, showed a lively interest in all around her, loved us to sing or tell her nursery rhymes and she had an endearing habit of watching our mouths as we talked or sang, trying to imitate us. She was the center of our life. Jean-Louis said to me as he watched: “I still cannot believe that we really have a child. Sometimes I dream that it was all fancy and wake up in such gloom … until I remember or she comes in [which she was beginning to do now] at an early hour in the morning to be with us.”

She did more than anything else to ease my conscience, but sometimes I would have a fearful sense of foreboding and when I looked back at all I had done and how I had brazenly carried off my deceit I was still amazed at myself.

People talked about the war but not with any great seriousness. There had always been wars and as long as they remained outside our country we were not greatly concerned. When there were triumphs for us we heard a great deal about them; when there were disasters they were briefly glossed over. We did hear about the execution of Admiral Byng, though. He had lost Minorca to the French and was accused of treachery and cowardice. People were shocked by the case and for a time talked of little else. Prime Minister Pitt had tried to persuade the king to pardon him but to no avail, and he was shot on the quarterdeck of his ship in Portsmouth Harbor.

Jean-Louis was indignant. “It’s harsh and unjust,” he said. “Byng might have failed through bad tactics but that does not merit execution.”

James Fenton said that such executions were performed for reasons other than justice. The French were evidently very interested in the outcome. The writer Voltaire said he was slain “pour encourager les autres” and solely for that reason. Someone else said that Byng was afraid of too much responsibility and was shot to let those about him know that in war those who could not take quick decisions were no use to their country.

In any case the interest in the case seemed to bring the fact that we were at war home to a good many people.

“How will it affect the war?” I asked James.

“Oh, the capture of Minorca is a feather in the French cap.”

Such talk always set me wondering about Gerard. It seemed so strange that we who had been so close, should now be so far apart that we had no idea what the other was doing. I wondered what he would think if he knew there had been a child.

It was when Lottie was two years old that I had the irresistible urge to return to Eversleigh.

I talked it over with my mother and Sabrina. “I think a great deal about Uncle Carl and that strange ménage of his. I said I would visit again. Do you think I should?”

“Lottie is a little young to travel,” she said.

“I had thought of leaving her here. Nanny is well able to look after her. Jean-Louis is not really fit for a long journey … no, I thought of …”

“Not going alone!” cried my mother.

“Well … I went before.”

Dickon happened to have come in while we were talking. He was now getting on for thirteen—very tall for his age, full of self-importance, arrogant, ruthless, I judged him to be. He did not improve as he grew up.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“I’ll be perfectly all right … with the grooms. I’ll go as I went before.”

But Dickon was set on going, and as my mother and Sabrina always went out of their way to satisfy his demands they came up with the idea that Sabrina and he might go with me. And no sooner had it been suggested than Dickon was so taken with the idea that he would not have it otherwise than that we should go together.

I wrote to Uncle Carl and had an enthusiastic reply. He would be delighted to see us, and asked us to come as soon as possible.

It was spring—the best time for traveling; the days remained light for longer and the weather was more to be relied on.

Both Dickon and Sabrina were in high spirits. It was true that Dickon wanted us to move faster, which the grooms pointed out to him was not possible if the saddle horse was to keep up with us. “Let him come on after,” said Dickon.

I said: “You know we must all keep together. You must have heard that often enough.”

“Highwaymen. Everybody’s scared of highwaymen. I’m not.”

“No, for the reason that you have never encountered one.”

“I’d soon frighten him off.”

Sabrina said: “Dickon!” half reproving, half admiring; and I merely ignored him.

The journey passed without mishap and on this occasion we arrived at Eversleigh in the early afternoon.

Sabrina remembered the place well and grew reflective, excited but a little sad. I guessed so many memories—some not very pleasant—were stirring in her mind. She had spent the early part of her childhood at Enderby and in the days before Eversleigh Court had passed into Uncle Carl’s hands it had been a very orderly, rather conventionally run estate.

Jessie came out to meet us. I noticed that she displayed a little more discretion in her appearance than she had on that first occasion. She wore a blue muslin dress with a frilly white fischu and cuffs. There was only the smallest patch beside her left eye.

Evalina was there with her mother, almost a young woman now. I guessed she must be about fifteen years of age.

“His lordship is excited about your visit.” Jessie told us. “He has ordered that you are to be taken to him the minute you arrived.”

Oh yes, she was creating a different image. Now it seemed that his lordship gave the orders in the house: on the previous occasion it had clearly been Jessie who did this.

Evalina and Dickon eyed each other with interest, but Dickon’s main attention was for the house. He was rather quiet—which was unusual for him—gazing about him. I could see that he was impressed.

“Your rooms are all ready for you,” said Jessie. “And I was wondering if you would like a light snack, say … or wait for supper.”

I looked at Sabrina, who hesitated, I knew, because she thought Dickon would certainly be hungry. However, for once he did not seem interested in food. He was indeed taken with his surroundings.

I said I was prepared to wait. Sabrina said the same.

“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.

Sabrina was saying: “My parents lived at Enderby until they died.”

“Oh, well, you would know the house well.”

“We can’t resist coming to have a look at it.”

“Then you must come in and see what you think we have made of it.”

Sabrina was as excited as I was.

“It’s so kind of you,” she said.

“Not at all. We’re thinking of cutting down some of the trees to make the house lighter.”

“That was done once,” said Sabrina. “My mother did it when she went to live there.”

“They seem to grow so quickly here. Sometimes I feel that one morning I’ll wake up to find us completely shut in by them.”

She feels it, I thought. She feels the supernatural power of the house.

On the other hand she looked happy and proud as she opened the door and let us in.

Memories came rushing back. I fancied I could hear the sounds of the fair in the nearby fields. I felt sick with longing to be with Gerard again … to go back in time, to mount that staircase with him to the bedroom with the white and gold brocade curtains that had … for an instant looked red in the afternoon sunlight.

Sabrina was looking up at the minstrels’ gallery.

Our hostess laughed. “Oh, that’s the part that is said to be haunted. When we bought the house we were warned. I said I was not afraid of the ghost and would leave out a glass of wine for him … or her … if she would deign to visit me.”

“And you still feel the same now you live here?” asked Sabrina.

“I’ve never seen anything. Perhaps I’m not the type they like to visit.”

“I think a great deal depends on your attitude towards them,” I said. “When I was here last time I met someone who was staying here. …”

At that moment a man appeared on the staircase.

“We have visitors, Derek,” said our hostess. “They know Enderby well Isn’t that interesting? Come down and meet these ladies. This is my husband, Derek Forster. I am Isabel.”

He was as pleasantly welcoming at his wife.

“You’ll have a glass of wine,” she said. “I’ll send for it. Just a moment. Derek, take them into the winter parlor.”

He ushered us in and Sabrina said: “I’m Sabrina Frenshaw and this is my cousin’s daughter, Zipporah Ransome.”

“I’m delighted to meet you,” he said.

His wife returned to us. “Refreshment is coming,” she said. “Do sit down, mistress … ?” She paused and looked at Sabrina, who said: “Frenshaw.”

“Mistress Frenshaw spent her childhood in this house.”

“Then you must be …”

“Sabrina Granthorn, that was. The daughter of Jeremy Granthorn, who once owned the house.”

“Oh yes, we had heard. That’s fascinating. So you spent your childhood here.”

“Yes, and so did Zipporah’s mother, for she was brought up by my mother.”

“I daresay you know every nook and cranny.”

I was longing to find out what she knew of Gerard and said: “When I came here to see my uncle I met a friend of yours who was staying here.”

They looked at each other in a puzzled way.

“Gerard d’Aubigné.” I said.

They looked blank.

“You had lent him the house while you were away,” I went on.

“We’ve not been away. We’ve never lent anyone the house. …” Then Derek Forster smiled suddenly. “Well, we haven’t been here two years yet. When did you come?”

I felt a great relief. I had begun to feel that I had had some uncanny adventure and that Gerard was indeed someone risen from the grave.

“It was three years ago.”

“Well,” said Derek, “that explains it. Gerard d’Aubigné, you say? That sounds like a Frenchman.”

“Yes,” I said, “he was.”

“They were strange people, I believe. I never saw them. They left in rather a hurry. The sale was affected through some proxy. It was all rather mysterious. It was said that they had been working for the French and had to leave the country quickly. Your Frenchman seems to confirm the story.”

“I didn’t meet them myself,” I said. “I gathered they had lent the house to him for a short period.”

“Spies, I imagine. Well, there is nothing like that about us, is there, Derek?”

“No, I’m afraid we’re rather dull.”

“And you enjoy the house?” I asked

“It’s an interesting house,” said Derek.

“Now you mention it,” said Isabel, “I sometimes feel it’s not quite like other houses.”

“We got it at a very reasonable price,” said Derek. “Too good to miss, in fact. My brother said we should be fools not to take it. He was particularly anxious that we should because he’s going to start a practice in the town. He’s a doctor, you see.”

“It feels different,” said Sabrina. “I think the atmosphere is something to do with the people who live in a house.”

“That would seem inevitable, I suppose.”

The wine was excellent, so were the little wine cakes which went with it and we were both sorry when we had to rise to go.

“How long are you staying?” asked Isabel.

“Not long. A fortnight perhaps.”

Sabrina said: “Lord Eversleigh is getting so old now. I think he likes to see his relations.”

I wondered if there was any gossip in the village about the situation there and I was sure that if there was, a woman like Isabel Forster would hear of it.

“He has a housekeeper who seems to keep a tight hand on everything.”

Yes, I thought there might be a certain amount of gossip.

We said good-bye and were asked to call again if we could spare the time. The Forsters would be delighted to see us at any time.

We went back to Eversleigh feeling we had had an interesting morning.

I decided that I must call on Jethro and seek a time when I might find him alone. I imagined if anyone was in Uncle Carl’s confidence here, it would be Jethro. After all, he had used him once before.

At the midday meal Jessie had been more talkative. I was under the impression that she had felt her way carefully with Sabrina and was still a little in awe of her. She did not eat with us as she had on my previous visit but was always bustling round to make sure, she implied, that everything was to our taste. “You can’t trust these maids nowadays.” she was fond of saying.

We rose from the table. Sabrina was going to call on the Forsters that afternoon. I knew Sabrina well and I imagined she liked to think of the past even though it was unpleasant. I decided that I did not want to go to Enderby again. I knew I could find out nothing about Gerard and I felt no desire to go there and revive memories which caused me such longing.

Jessie was looking at me rather slyly as I brushed past her. “I reckon you’re missing your little girl. Mistress Ransome.” she said.

I nodded.

“Well, she’ll be all of … what is it? two years. You see. I remember. She must have been born about nine months after you left here. …” She gave me a little nudge.

I felt the color rush to my face. I looked at Sabrina. She had noticed nothing. I turned back to Jessie and said: “Well. I shall soon be back with her.”

And went out. The remark had shaken me. What did Jessie mean by it? When I had turned to look at her her expression had been one of bland innocence. But the nudge … Well, nudging was a habit with her.

Was I oversensitive? I was a married woman. It was to be expected that I should have a child and if I did so after a visit, even though she had been careful enough to mention the time lapse, it was not so very significant.

I went out to find Jethro and I did. He was in his cottage.

“Ah.” he said. “I thought maybe you’d be calling on me sometime. Mistress Zipporah.”

“I had to talk to you. Jethro. Tell me. how is everything at the Court?”

“It’s all as it should be, it seems. His lordship is happy. Jessie gives herself airs and still behaves as though she’s the mistress of the house—which in a way she is. there being no mistress there … mistress of the staff, you might say—but she does take her rule on the other side of the screens, if you get my meaning.”

“I thought she was a little more respectful.”

“Oh yes, she is that. And she takes great care of his lordship.”

“I have seen that and I don’t think it is just for our benefit. She is really anxious to keep him alive.”

“She changed after you went, Mistress Zipporah. I don’t know what you did … but you did something.”

“I just pointed out that the easy life was hers only as long as Lord Eversleigh was alive to provide it.”

Jethro’s brown old face wrinkled up into a grin.

“Well, it did the trick and everyone seems happy.”

I wondered if Jessie was, for she had had grandiose schemes for getting her hands on Eversleigh.

I said: “And the afternoon visits to Amos Carew, do they still continue?”

“They do. Mistress Zipporah.”

“Jethro,” I said, “I shall have to go soon. Can you keep me informed?”

Jethro looked embarrassed and I realized I had been tactless. Of course, he couldn’t read or write.

I went on: “Perhaps you could send a messenger to me. … Is there anyone … ?”

He looked dubious and I went on: “It would only be in an emergency of course.”

“I’d do my best. Mistress Zipporah, but all is well now and has been since you came, before which is some time now.”

I had to leave it at that.

I came away thoughtfully from Jethro’s cottage and as I did not feel like returning to the house I started to walk in the opposite direction.

I was deep in thought. I was visualizing myself living here with Jean-Louis and meanwhile Dickon would be at Clavering. Life would be so different. I should have to get rid of Jessie quickly and I wondered what her reaction would be. I had not liked her remark about Lottie’s birth nor the suggestive and significant nudge which had accompanied it.

So deep in thought was I that I had not noticed that the sky had darkened; I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance and thought I should have to hurry back if I was to reach the house before the storm broke.

I was near one of the farms which was a quarter of a mile from Eversleigh when the rain started to come down in torrents. There were patches of blue sky on the horizon so I guessed that it was only a passing storm. I was not far from a barn and I sprinted across, opened the door and went in. It would only be for five minutes or so, I was sure.

It was dark in the barn after coming from the light and my eyes took a few seconds to adjust.

Then I saw that I was not alone.

They were lying in the hay … two people. I tried not to look at them for they were in a state of disarray and were in such a close embrace that at first I had thought it was one person who lay there.

I felt my heart begin to beat as the realization came to me that the two people lying there were Dickon and Evalina.

I wanted to turn and run but I felt as though my feet had taken root.

I stammered: “Dickon … Evalina …”

Dickon was looking at me; he was still holding Evalina. She had turned her face toward me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” cried Evalina. “What about yourself, eh? Some people shouldn’t condemn others for what they do themselves.”

I felt sick. I turned and ran out into the blinding rain.

My boots were sodden; my clothes saturated and my hair hung damply round my face as I stepped into the hall.

Jessie was there talking to Sabrina.

“My goodness,” cried Jessie. “You’re wet through.”

“Why … Zipporah,” said Sabrina, “you shouldn’t have come through that rain.”

“You should have stood up … and waited,” said Jessie. “Get them wet things off. Rub yourself down with a towel. Would you like a cup of hot soup?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It was foolish of me.”

I thought as I went upstairs: I want nothing but to get away from this house.

I had discarded my wet things and put on dry ones. I went along to Sabrina’s room.

I said to her vehemently: “I want to go home … soon.”

“Well,” she said, “perhaps we should start making plans. Dickon won’t like it. He’s happy here.”

Dickon. I thought: Don’t talk to me of Dickon! I could not shut out the memory of his face as he lay there in the barn looking at me … insolently.

She would tell him. He would know my secret. It must have been Evalina who had listened outside my door.

What did she know? What had she told Dickon? Most assuredly she would have told him of her suspicions.

I began to feel afraid as I had not before.

I saw her a few hours later. She was in the hall with her mother.

She looked at me defiantly, as though to say, Tell on me and I’ll tell on you.

It was blackmail. I remembered that other occasion when she had bought my silence with the key of my door.

I wanted to get away from this house. It was evil, I knew it.

She was smiling at me blandly.

“You got very wet, Mistress Ransome,” she said. “Mother told me that you came in really soaked. Did you change? You ought to. You don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said.

She gave me an innocent smile.

Two days later we left Eversleigh. Sabrina, I think, was happy to go, though Dickon was rather sullen.

“I believe you’ve really fallen in love with the place,” said his mother fondly.

“I like it,” answered Dickon. “I like it a lot.”

And all the way home I was wondering what Evalina had said to him.