The Drop of the Dice

THE SEED PEARL STOLE

WE CAME TO THAT period when my daughter was ten years old—a lovely child and a joy to us all. To my regret there had been no more children. Lance did not seem to mind. He was well content with his daughter. She looked rather like him—tall, fair-haired, with intensely blue eyes, but it was her smile which was so enchanting.

I suppose I could have been said to have settled down. I was happy—not perhaps ecstatically so, as I had been with Dickon, but I had come to believe that my feelings then had been partly due to youth and my first and sudden encounter with romance. Lance had been a good husband to me—always kind and tender, but perhaps never as close as I had felt myself to be with Dickon even though we spent but a few days together. Lance had his secrets—for he was really a very secretive man—and I always believed they were between us. I had often felt that his gambling was my rival and that his passion for it would always exceed that which he felt for me. I used to think that he would gamble us all away if the challenge were strong enough. It was a foolish thought and yet I was sure there was some truth in it.

This discontent with my marriage was only vague. In my sober moments I reproached myself for reaching out for the impossible… as perhaps most people do when it would be so much wiser to accept and enjoy what they have. They dream up an ideal… an impossible dream… and spend their lives unappreciative of what they have because it does not exactly fit the dream.

Lance was often in financial difficulties. In fact, he lived constantly on the verge of them. No sooner had he won than he would risk all he had gained. It would always be like that, I knew, and I must accept it because it was his nature. But, as I said, it set a barrier between us. He would never admit defeat. If ever I asked him how he fared it would always have been wonderful. I was shut out of his gambling life and as that meant more to him than anything I could not be very close.

Then of course there was Sabrina. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, bearing a strong resemblance to my mother, Carlotta, who had caused such consternation in the family. But she was not like Carlotta in other respects. She was determined, strong-willed, vivacious and adventurous. Carlotta, it was true, had been all these; but in Sabrina, the dominating trait was to care for the weak.

She had begun, I suppose, by caring for me, and the bond between us had not lessened with the years. She looked after me, protected me, watched over me just as she had in those old days when she had suspected—rightly—that my life was in danger.

I was of special importance to her because she had saved my life and that had brought about a change in hers, for I do believe that had she not done what she did for me on that day in the woods she would have gone on remembering that fatal day on the ice when she had disobeyed orders and her action had been the indirect cause of her mother’s death.

I was fond of Lance and Jean-Louis, and Zipporah was my own precious child, but between Sabrina and myself there was such an intensity of feeling that nothing could rival it. She knew it and she was content that it should be so. The jealousy of her early childhood had disappeared. She was serene and confident, and, what gave me great pleasure, contented.

Ours was a happy household up to that time. It was as though we had all come to terms with each other. Nanny Curlew stayed with us even though Sabrina was at this time a young woman of nineteen and certainly not in need of a nurse. But with Nanny Goswell she presided over Zipporah’s needs and the two nannies made themselves useful in a hundred ways so that we could not imagine our household without them.

We spent the time between Clavering Hall and Albemarle Street, paying occasional visits to Eversleigh, which seemed so different now. Priscilla and Leigh were at the big house, Eversleigh Court; Uncle Carl remained with the army; and Enderby had been sold and the Dower House was empty. Change was inevitable but everything was so different there from the old days. As for myself, I was now in my thirties and no longer young.

I had thought that Sabrina would marry early and was rather surprised that she had reached the age of nineteen without doing so. That she was very attractive, there could be no doubt, and there had been several young men who had wanted to marry her, and among them more than one who would have been a very desirable husband, but although she enjoyed their admiration and regard she had no wish to marry them.

It was soon after her nineteenth birthday that Lance gave me the stole. It was a beautiful thing trimmed with lace and thousands of tiny seed pearls; being silver grey, it toned with everything and was very useful to wear round my shoulders at some of the evening parties we attended. It was elegant in the extreme but at the same time very outstanding. People never failed to admire it when I wore it; and if I did not do so many enquired what I had done with my beautiful seed pearl stole.

There was one man whom we met frequently in society. I disliked him intensely from the moment I set eyes on him. He was big, florid of complexion, with fleshly indulgence written all over his face; he ate heartily, drank heavily and was reputed to have a voracious sexual appetite. His name was Sir Ralph Lowell but he was generally known as Sir Rake, a name in which he delighted. He had what I can only call a ‘familiar’—a pale-faced, mean man, as tall as himself but about half the width. This was Sir Basil Blaydon. Sir Basil was ill-favoured rather through expression than feature. He had very small pale blue eyes which seemed to dart everywhere, noting the disabilities of everyone, and a thin curved mouth which seemed to express delight in them.

I used to say to Lance. ‘Why do we have Lowell and Blaydon? We could well do without them.’

‘My dear,’ said Lance, ‘Lowell is one of the most reckless gamblers I ever knew.’

‘Even more so than yourself?’ I asked.

Lance smiled with his imperturbable good humour. ‘I am cautious in comparison. No, we have to include Lowell. He would come in any case. I have known him appear uninvited now and then.’

‘Well, I don’t like him in the house—nor that man who comes with him.’

‘Oh, Blaydon just walks in his shadow. Just ignore the two of them since you don’t like them.’

And whenever I mentioned my abhorrence of these two men, Lance always turned my objections aside with a light remark which was so much more effective than a protest would have been.

So we continued to endure Sir Rake.

I was a little dismayed when his son, Reginald, became friendly with Sabrina. Reggie, as he was known, was a poor creature, as different from his father as it was possible to be. He was a tall, gangling youth with pale eyes and skin and he was clearly cowed by his father who seemed to despise him. He limped slightly which was due to a fall when he was a baby. His mother had died as the result of a miscarriage when she was trying to produce another of the sons which Sir Rake desperately wanted. So the only son he had was Reggie.

It was perhaps typical of Sabrina that she should be interested in Reggie. Sabrina wanted to look after people; to manage their affairs, to care for them; and to do this she must find someone in need of care. Poor Reggie, slightly crippled, cowed by his father and dismissed as of little importance by most people, fitted the role perfectly.

I am sure that at first it was pity with Sabrina. Other young women had little desire for his company; she would show them all that she, the most sought-after among them, was willing to pay some attention to poor Reggie.

She would seek him out. At first the poor young man was bewildered and then he would look for her and if she did not appear he would be wretched; when she did come his eyes would light up with such adoration that I began to be alarmed.

They would chat together and she even persuaded him to dance with her. He did this clumsily because of his disability but she always looked as though she were enjoying the dance and I heard her tell him once that there was no one she would rather be with.

I talked to Lance about it. He shrugged his shoulders. It was unwise, he said, to interfere in the affairs of the young.

‘Could she marry him?’ I persisted.

‘If they agreed it, of course.’

‘I mean, would it be wise? Reggie is dependent on his father… and as for Sabrina going into that household… it makes me shudder to think of it.’

Lance’s thoughts were elsewhere. He said lightly: ‘These matters work themselves out.’

It was at times like this that I felt irritated with him, and disappointed. Dickon, I felt sure, would have understood my fears. At least he would have given his attention to them.

I decided to speak to Sabrina.

‘Do you think it wise to give so much of your attention to Reggie Lowell?’ I asked.

‘I like Reggie,’ she answered. ‘And I think he likes me.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ I said. ‘That’s the trouble. He likes you too much. I think he’s in love with you.’

She nodded, smiling gently.

‘But, Sabrina,’ I went on, ‘I know you feel sorry for him, but is it right to lead him on to think…’

‘To think what?’

‘Well, that you might marry him.’

‘Why shouldn’t he think it?’

‘But you wouldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, Sabrina, do you really mean you’re in love with him?’

She hesitated and I went on triumphantly: ‘There, you see. You’re sorry for him. I know that. I know you well. But that is not enough.’

‘Enough? He needs someone to look after him, to show him that he would be all right if he would forget about not being so.’

‘Dear Sabrina, what you are doing is giving him the wrong impression.

‘I am not,’ she said firmly.

‘Do you mean to say you would marry him?’

‘I might.’

‘Sabrina! There are so many… you could have almost anybody.’

‘I don’t want anybody. I want to help Reggie.’

I was disturbed and then I began to think that perhaps she was right. Reggie needed her and Sabrina was the kind of girl who needed to be needed. It may have gone back to that incident on the ice and her father’s dislike for her. I had thought when she had saved my life we had wiped that out for ever, but perhaps some dramatic incidents made such an effect on the mind that they were indelible.

I saw that Lance was right, though. Matters must take their course.

And how was I to know what a dramatic and tragic course this would take.

Sabrina came to me in the garden where I was gathering roses. It was a lovely summer’s day. I could hear the voices of Zipporah and Jean-Louis in the paddock. They were riding there as they often did and Jean-Louis was teaching her to jump the hedge which separated the paddock from the home field.

I snipped my roses contentedly, picking the best blooms and thinking what a beautiful afternoon it was. I heard the buzzing of the bees which were marauding in the lavender which grew in profusion round the pond where now and then I saw the flash of the goldfish which Zipporah called her own because she liked to feed them. The smell of the lavender was sweet; there were white butterflies on the purple buddleia, and it was an afternoon for contentment—so I thought.

Sabrina was standing beside me. She looked cool in a green linen gown and a big shady hat—cool, beautiful and sure of herself.

‘Clarissa, I wanted you to be the first to know.’

I turned to look at her. There was a smile on her face and her lovely eyes were looking past me as though into the future.

My heart sank. I was afraid of what she was going to tell me.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you’ve guessed. I’m going to marry Reggie.’

‘Sabrina!’

‘You don’t approve, I know. Dear Clarissa, I promise you that it will be all right.’

‘Do you… love him?’

Again that momentary hesitation. ‘But of course,’ she said at length, almost irritably.

She looked so beautiful standing there—and so young, that I felt she had not yet come to womanhood. When she did, she would be a vibrant, passionate woman. There would just be some man who would awaken her—but it was not Reggie. I knew that she would marry him for pity and that was no good reason for a woman like Sabrina to plan for her future happiness.

‘Have you thought of this very seriously?’

‘Of course,’ she said, again with that touch of irritability which suggested to me that she was far from sure.

‘Perhaps if you waited a little…’

‘Waited? Who wants to wait? I shall soon be twenty years of age. Most people are married when they are as old as that. Oh, Clarissa, I want to make up for all that he has suffered. He has been through so much with that dreadful father of his.’

‘He will be your father-in-law, think of that!’

‘One does not marry for the sake of a father-in-law.’

‘No, but you would doubtless come into contact with him often.’

‘We should not. I should see to that. I should take Reggie far away. We would visit rarely… just for convention’s sake. His father has not been very good for him. In fact it is his father who has made him what he is… timid, uncertain… a little afraid of life.’

‘Do you really want to marry a man like that?’

‘I want to marry Reggie. I can help him.’

‘Sabrina, you should be a wife, not a… reformer.’

‘You are being a little difficult, darling. It is not like you. You have always understood and helped me. Oh, don’t you see what parents can do to their children? When they are young they feel things so deeply.’

I could see the past in her eyes. I remembered vividly that time when Jeremy had come to her and let her know that he hated her for what she had done to her mother.

She was right. Parents’ actions could be very significant to impressionable children. She remembered still, and she saw that Reggie was one who had not had the good fortune to fall into the hands of someone who was as sympathetic as I had been. I loved her so much because she cared for others, and passionately I wanted her to find the happiness she deserved.

I think I could have become reconciled to the marriage if there had just been Reggie. It was the thought of the family connection with Sir Rake which appalled me. I had hated the way in which his eyes dwelt on all women—including myself. He had an air of assessing them and speculating as to how he could get them into his bed. I was sure that he lived up to his reputation.

But Sabrina was determined and none could be more so when she had made up her mind to be.

When I told Lance he was only mildly interested. He was going to his club and was already thinking of the night’s play ahead.

I did discuss the matter with Nanny Curlew, who regarded Sabrina as her own child.

Nanny Curlew said: ‘Well, we wanted a good match for her, but if she really loves this young man, I’m agreeable.’

Nanny Curlew obviously had not heard the evil rumours concerning Sir Rake.

They had decided not to announce the engagement just yet, for which I was thankful. I did see Sir Ralph on one or two occasions. He came to us in Albemarle Street for a night’s play. Reggie did not accompany him. Sabrina was present and when I saw Sir Ralph’s eyes following her, assessing her in his lewd way, I was deeply disturbed, and it occurred to me that Reggie had probably told his father of his proposed marriage and that would account for Sir Ralph’s interest.

Then came the day when she was to visit the Lowells’ town house. A note had been delivered to her from Sir Ralph.

He wrote:

My dear daughter-to-be,

I cannot express the delight I felt when I heard from my son that you had agreed to marry him. I have always admired you so much and there is no one I would rather welcome into the family.

I want Reginald to bring you to see me, so that the three of us can have a little talk together. He will call for you at eight of the clock tomorrow evening. Just a family affair, one might say. Then we can plan how we shall make the announcement.

So humour me in this. There is so much I wish to say to you.

From one whose joy it will be to become

Your Father,

Ralph Lowell.

‘He sounds as though he is pleased,’ I said when Sabrina showed me the note.

‘I think the stories about him have been highly exaggerated,’ replied Sabrina.

‘I thought he was unkind to Reggie.’

‘Quite a lot of fathers are,’ she retorted with feeling.

She would judge for herself, and for the occasion she would wear a very lovely gown in pink silk, cut from the waist to show a petticoat very finely embroidered beneath. The bodice was tight-fitting and rather low-cut and she looked exquisite in it.

I said: ‘You need something to cover your shoulders.’ I went to a drawer and brought out the seed-pearl-decorated stole. I draped it round her shoulders. The silver-grey of the stole and the delicacy of the pearls enhanced her gown. I had never seen the stole look so beautiful as it did on her that night.

She was full of confidence in the future. She was going to marry Reggie and make him a happy man; and this night she would face his father.

At precisely eight o’clock the carriage arrived. A footman knocked at the door. Sabrina was waiting. From an upper window I saw her get into the carriage and drive away. Not for a moment did it occur to me that the happenings of this night would affect us all so bitterly.

Lance was at the club and I was trying not to picture him at the card table, that intense look on his face as he gambled away… heaven knew what.

I preferred not to think of him. Instead I was thinking of Sabrina, about to marry and go away from us. So it happened. One day Zipporah’s turn would come. It was heartbreaking to lose those one had loved and cherished through their childhood, when one had been the most important person in their lives. But there must come the time when it was necessary to slip back and hand over the loved one to a husband.

Zipporah was young yet, but I was already beginning to wonder how much longer I should keep even her with me.

I should be rejoicing though in Sabrina’s happiness… if happiness it was. She was like a nun dedicated to a mission. She was marrying for pity. However, I must accept the fact that it was what she wanted and when she had set her mind on something she would never diverge from it.

I settled down to read. It must have been nearly two hours after the carriage had left when she came back. She was wrapped in an old cloak which she had certainly not been wearing when she left the house. She came into my bedroom and as she threw off the cloak I saw that her bodice was ripped open; her skirt was torn; there was a bruise on her neck and her face was the colour of parchment.

‘Sabrina!’ I cried.

She flung herself into my arms. She was sobbing and I could not quieten her.

‘Clarissa… Oh Clarissa,’ she murmured. ‘It was dreadful… dreadful… He’s dead. I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t do it. It… it happened.’

‘Sabrina, my dearest, try to be calm. Tell me what happened.’

‘It was… that man…’

‘You mea… Sir Ralph?’

She nodded. ‘It was terrible, Clarissa. I fought him and I was getting exhausted. I couldn’t hold him off… He seemed so strong… I kicked… I screamed… I fought with all my might and then… Oh, Clarissa, I didn’t do it. It wasn’t my fault. It… it just happened…’

I went to the cupboard where Lance kept his brandy. I poured out a little and gave it to her. Her teeth were chattering so that she could not drink and her hands were shaking so that she could not hold the goblet.

‘Now tell me, Sabrina, tell me right from the beginning.’

She sat staring ahead as though she were still living in the nightmare. ‘When I got into the carriage,’ she said, ‘Reggie was not there.’

‘I saw you go and I thought it was strange that he had not got out to help you into the carriage.’

‘I didn’t think much of it until I arrived at the house. A housekeeper was there but there was no sign of Reggie. She said that Sir Ralph was waiting for me and she took me up to a room. She knocked at the door. There was no answer. Then she opened the door and I went in. It was a bedroom. There was a four-poster bed… I thought the housekeeper had made a mistake and I was about to say so when the door shut behind me and I was suddenly seized. It was that man… oh, Clarissa, how can I tell you? I was so frightened. He was so strong… and he was holding me.’

‘My dear child, this is terrible. I should never have let you go alone. I thought Reggie was taking you.’

‘So did I. But that man had planned it. He was waiting for me. It was awful. He said he had always wanted me. He said it would be in the family and there should be love between father and daughter… I tried to get away. I went to the window. I think I would have jumped out if I could. But he was there behind me. He had taken off the robe he was wearing. He was naked, Clarissa. It was… horrible. He pulled me down on the bed. He tore my bodice and my skirt…’

Again she turned to me and hid her face against me as though to shut out that terrible scene.

‘He said I was a vixen… but he liked vixens. He said there was more excitement when the girl was unwilling. He said horrible things… and he was leering at me all the time, licking his lips… his horrible flabby blue lips. I fought hard, Clarissa, but he was stronger than I was and I was afraid that he was going to win.’ She shuddered and shut her eyes tightly. ‘He was cursing me… and laughing at me… and tearing at my clothes—and then suddenly I felt his grip loosen. I had my hand over his mouth… shutting off those horrible lips… I could not bear the sight of them. And then… he wasn’t holding me any more. His face had gone blue and he was breathing in a noisy way. I was able to push him away from me… and he rolled off the bed and lay very still on the floor. His breathing had stopped and his eyes were wide open… staring. For a moment I couldn’t understand what had happened. Then I knew… He was dead.’

‘You came back home. That was all there was to do.’

‘But him… Clarissa. I left him there. I found this cloak. Perhaps it is his. I had to have something to cover myself up. I took it without thinking. I ran out of the house. I saw a chairman going by and he brought me here. I had just enough money still in my girdle reticule to pay him. Oh, Clarissa, what will happen?’

‘Nothing. You have done nothing wrong. It was his own fault. You are not responsible for his death. But are you sure he is dead? He might have fallen into a faint… or something like that.’

‘He was not breathing. I was sure of it. Clarissa, I was so frightened. I just ran…’

I soothed her. ‘Let me get you out of these things. I’ll take you to your bed. I’ll get something for you to drink. Something that will soothe you. Nanny Curlew will know what is best.’

She clung to me. ‘I could only think of you,’ she said. ‘How to get to you… How to be safe.’

I was deeply moved. It was as though she were part of myself. I wanted it to be like that always, throughout our lives. I believed that only death could come between us.

I spent a sleepless night. I sat with Sabrina until Nanny Curlew’s potion had had its effect and she fell into a peaceful sleep.

When Lance came in late he was flushed with success because he had had a winning night. I was still sitting up. It was no use going to bed for I knew I should not sleep. I kept wondering what the outcome of this would be. If Sir Ralph were indeed dead there would be an enquiry and Sabrina’s name would be mentioned as the woman who was with him when he died. There might well be malicious gossip. There were always those ready to damn reputations.

This was where Sabrina’s pity had led her.

Lance was amazed to find me sitting up. I quickly told him what had happened.

‘The swine!’ he cried. ‘By Gad, if he really is dead that’s no loss to the world.’

‘But what of Sabrina?’

He was thoughtful. Lance was a man who understood every facet of the social scene and I could see that he was thinking exactly as I was. There would be many to say that Sabrina had gone willingly to the house; some might say she had been his mistress and that her proposed marriage with Reggie was to make an easier situation for them. Sabrina would be notorious.

Lance and I talked for a long time and finally Lance said he knew how to handle the matter, and this should be fairly easy as long as no one knew that Sabrina had been the woman who was present when Sir Ralph had died. As so many women had been connected with him—many of them courtesans who would have visited him for a night—there might be no involved inquiry into the identity of his companion. That was providing it could be proved that he had died of heart failure brought on by intense excitement.

I said, ‘There was a letter from him to her asking her to call.’

‘We must destroy it,’ said Lance.’

‘I’ll get it at once.’ I knew she had left it lying on her dressing-table, for I had seen it there—without noticing it very much—when I had helped her to bed. I went quietly to her room. She was sleeping deeply. I picked up the letter and took it back to Lance.

He held it in the flame of a candle. We were both silent as the blue flame curled upwards.

‘Now,’ said Lance, ‘if no one saw her there is no evidence that she was there. No one would suspect a girl who was to marry his own son.’

‘Would they not?’ I asked. ‘Those who knew him might think he found the idea of making love to his daughter-in-law rather piquant.’

‘It won’t occur to them… unless the housekeeper who took her in recognized her.’

‘Wait a minute!’ I cried. ‘What of the coachmen? He sent his coach for her. They would remember her.’

Lance looked abashed. ‘I’ll see the coachmen,’ he said at length. ‘I’ll make it worth their while to forget they called here and took her back.’

‘Lance… is that wise?’

‘It’s necessary,’ he added.

‘Oh, Lance, I’m so glad you are here to help.’

He looked at me tenderly. ‘That’s my mission in life, to serve you,’ he said.

I was so grateful to him. He had always been so good and kind; in real trouble he was always there beside me.

Sabrina woke much calmer next day. She had always been logical and she saw at once that she was in no way to blame for what had happened. Lance and I told her that the best way out of the trouble was to keep quiet. The only people we had to fear were the housekeeper and the coachmen.

Had the housekeeper seen her clearly, could she say?

‘I hardly think so. It was dark and the house was not well lighted. She quickly took me up to Sir Ralph’s bedroom. We were only a minute or so in each other’s company.’

‘We’ll risk the housekeeper,’ said Lance.

Sir Basil Blaydon called that morning. He was clearly shaken. Lance was at home when he called, for which I was grateful.

He burst out at once: ‘Have you heard the news? Ralph is dead. He died last night. They say there was some woman with him. It was apoplexy, they think. I always told him that if he continued at the pace he was going it would happen one day.’

‘By Gad!’ cried Lance. ‘What an end! Who was with him at the time?’

‘There seems to be some doubt about that. The housekeeper says she let a woman in but she didn’t see her very clearly. She didn’t hear her name. She just knew that he was expecting someone and she took her up.’

Sir Basil was clearly upset. He had walked in Sir Ralph’s shadow for so long he could not imagine life without him.

As soon as he had gone Lance went out. When he came back, he was smiling.

‘I’ve seen the coachmen,’ he said. ‘I’ve made it worth their while to forget they called at this house to pick up a young woman. They will say they picked her up from some other point. At the top of Dover Street, I suggested. Anywhere to stop attention being directed to this house. There’s nothing to fear now. They will not think of looking for his companion here.’

How thankful I was for Lance!

The entire circle of our acquaintances was talking about Sir Ralph’s sudden death. There were a few smirks of complacency, for many had said he would meet his death that way. A man could not go on indefinitely practising the excesses he did without one day succumbing to exhaustion.

The great curiosity was to find the woman.

Then came the blow. I had not missed the seed pearl stole and had forgotten that I had lent it to Sabrina on that night. Of course she had been wearing it when she left the house, and she had come back without it.

It was found in the chamber of death. It was unusual, even unique, and many people knew to whom it belonged.

That was how the scandal started.

The identity of the woman was discovered, and who else could it be but the owner of the seed pearl stole; Clarissa Clavering.

Lance was appalled. Sabrina was horrified. She said she would confess at once. Lance stopped that.

It was a tricky situation. We must keep very quiet. In the meantime Lance endeavoured to find another stole like the one he had bought before. There was not another like it to be found. He would have to have one made… speedily, he said, and he wanted me to appear in it.

There was another factor. One of the coachmen whom Lance had bribed to keep quiet decided to talk when Sir Basil Blaydon promised a larger sum than Lance had given him. He told Sir Basil that he had come to our house in Albemarle Street and had picked up the lady in the seed pearl stole. She had gone willingly to Sir Ralph’s residence, where he had been waiting for her.

The whispers grew to a rumble. Everywhere they were talking. The mystery was solved and the general opinion was that the woman in the case was Lance Clavering’s wife.

Sabrina was beside herself with grief. ‘People must be told,’ she said. ‘I went because he was to be my father-in-law. Surely that will be easily understood.’

‘No one would believe it,’ I told her. ‘No, it is better for them to suspect me than you. You have your life before you. You are young. We do not want scandal clinging to you. However false it is proved to be, there will always be some who insist that it is true. Lance knows the truth. That is all that matters.’

Lance came in with a new stole. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘it only remains for you to appear wearing it.’

‘What if the stole-maker talks… as the coachman has?’ I asked.

‘We must risk that,’ said Lance.

‘Oh Lance, you take too many risks!’

The news was soon being circulated. The stole-maker had lost no time in spreading the news that she had made another stole for Lance, which was an exact replica of the one found in Sir Ralph’s bedroom.

Lance came in looking pale and very serious. I had never seen him look like that before. His eyes were glittering, his lips tightly set together.

He said: ‘I’ve called Blaydon out.’

‘What do you mean?’ I cried.

‘He insulted you. He insulted me. He said you were Lowell’s mistress. There were several people there and… I challenged him. We are meeting in Hyde Park tomorrow morning.’

‘No, no, Lance!’

‘It has to be. I couldn’t stand by and let him insult you.’

How like him that was. He would always obey the rules of society. To him it was the only gracious way of living. He would risk his life because he considered it was the only honourable thing to do.

‘What does it matter what they say of me?’ I cried. ‘You and I know it is untrue.’

Lance’s reply was: ‘I shall be meeting him tomorrow morning at dawn.’

I whispered: ‘What is it to be?’

‘Pistols,’ he said.

‘And if he kills you…?’

‘Luck is always on my side.’

‘And if you kill him?’

‘I shall aim for his legs. It’ll teach him a lesson if I put a bullet through one of them. He’d recover and perhaps regret he said what he did.’

‘Lance… stop this. It’s not worth it.’

‘It is worth it to me,’ he said; and there was that about the set of his lips which told me he would not diverge from his purpose.

‘Please don’t do it, Lance,’ I pleaded. ‘Let’s leave London. Let them say what they will. What does it matter to us? We know the truth. It’s agreed that Sir Ralph was responsible for his own death. No one is accused of foul play. It is so easy. Let us slip away. Scandals die down.’

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘I shall defend your honour. It is the only thing I can do in the circumstances.’

‘It is not. There are other things. It is a silly code that doesn’t fit in with reality.’

‘It means something to me, Clarissa. Leave this in my hands. I will make him repent. He shall eat his words. I will not have your name sullied.’

There was no persuading him.

I did not tell Sabrina. She would have been frantic with remorse. I kept from her the fact that both the stole-maker and the coachman had talked. She did not go out, for which I was thankful. She had not seen Reggie either. I was sure she could not bear to think of him now for he would surely remind her of that terrible scene with his father.

I did not sleep all night. I wanted to go with Lance to the park, but he would not allow that.

‘You must not be there,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back with you soon. Then I promise you we’ll leave London. We’ll go to the country and take Sabrina with us. We’ll take Zipporah and Jean-Louis and forget this nightmare.’

It was dawn when he left the house in the company of Jack Etherington, a friend of long standing, who was to act as his second.

I sat at the window, waiting…waiting…

I was there when they carried him in. He was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side. I scarcely recognized him. He looked so unlike the jaunty man I had known with the insouciant smile, who had never really taken life seriously.

He had to take it seriously now, for I feared he was about to leave it.

‘I’ve sent someone for a doctor,’ said Jack Etherington. ‘We’d better get him to bed.’

The moments seemed to drag interminably. Lance was looking at me, trying to speak. I bent my head down so that I could hear him.

He said: ‘It was the only way. Understand, Clarissa. I was too slow. He got me first.’

‘The doctor will come,’ I told him. ‘You’ll be better then.’

He smiled, and as he did so I saw the blood on his lips, and that frightened me more than seeing him lying there.

The doctor came. He shook his head gravely. The bullet was too deeply embedded. He could not remove it. Besides, Lance had lost too much blood.

There was no hope and there could only be an hour or two left to him.

So Lance, the gallant gentleman, the exquisite dandy, the inveterate gambler, was dying, and his death was typical of the way he had lived. It made me bitterly angry to think of how he had thrown his life away… uselessly, unnecessarily. But that was Lance.

I heard Jack Etherington say that Blaydon was preparing to get out of the country quickly. That could only mean that he knew he had killed Lance.

Lance lingered for a few hours, and during that time he was lucid and talked to me a little. I told him to preserve his breath but it seemed to comfort him to talk.

‘Oh Clarissa, my Clarissa,’ he said. ‘I loved you always, you know. Still, it wasn’t what we looked for… not quite, was it? There were shadows between us… I was the gambler. I couldn’t stop. I wanted to… for you. I know how you hated it. But I went on… and on. It was between us, wasn’t it… the barrier…? There’ll be debts, Clarissa. I would have paid them… in time… out of winnings.’

Later he said: ‘For you there was Dickon. You never forgot him, did you? I knew he was there. A shadowy ghost in our house… at our table… in our bedchamber. Those were the shadows between, Clarissa. But it was good… all the same, it was good.’

I kissed his lips and his brow. He smiled faintly.

I bent over him and said quietly: ‘Lance, it was wonderful:’

And he closed his eyes and passed away.