The Drop of the Dice

SIR LANCELOT

IT IS AMAZING HOW great events which seem so remote from us can play such a big part in deciding the course of our lives. But for the great revolution when Catholic James had been driven from the throne and replaced by Protestant William and Mary, I should never have been born. And then my adventures in France were all part of the same situation. But the peaceful years I had spent at Eversleigh had made me forget such impressive conflicts and it was only when Great-Grandfather Carleton talked so fiercely of Jacobites that I remembered there was a struggle still going on.

Because of the peace, Jeanne was with us and something of even greater importance was to follow—and all because of the peace.

Jeanne had settled happily into our household; she seemed to be in a perpetual state of delight. She said it was like being in the hôtel and serving Lord and Lady Hessenfield again. To be assured of enough to eat was, during those first weeks, like a miracle to Jeanne. She talked volubly and I found I could chat easily with her and my early grounding in her language enabled me to pick it up again with speed. Jeanne had a smattering of English learned from my mother and from me and as she learned quickly we had no difficulty in communicating.

She told me how sad she had been when I had left, although she knew it was the best thing for me, and great good fortune that my Aunt Damaris had found me.

‘We suffered much in the winter when there was little to sell,’ she told me. ‘Then I must go out to wash floors… if I can get the work… and what did it bring? Nothing but a few sous. There were Maman and Grand’mère to keep. In the spring and summer I could manage with the flowers. I liked that. It gave me freedom. But to work for tradesmen… oh ma chérie… you have no idea. Those days in the hôtel working for milord and milady… ah, that was heaven… or near it. But this was different…’

She told me that she must work… work… work all the time, and never a moment to be lost or they would take off sous for wasted time.

‘I worked for the druggist and grocer one winter. I liked the smells though the work was hard. But I did it… and sometimes when there were many customers… I served in the shop. I loved the smell of that shop. Parfum… in the air. I learned too… how to weigh out the cinnamon, the sugar, the ground pepper… arsenic too. That was sold to the fashionable ladies. It did something for their complexions… But they must take care, they were always told. An overdose of that… Mon Dieu, it could give you more than a good complexion. It could give you a coffin and six feet of earth to cover you.’

Jeanne’s conversation—delivered half in French, half in English—was racy. It took me right back to my life in Paris—not only the days in the dark damp cellar but to the glorious time when Jeanne was in attendance, with my beautiful mother paying fleeting visits to my nursery and my wonderful Hessenfield coming even more rarely.

Jeanne brought a new atmosphere into Enderby. She showed me what the new hairdressing was like. She herself had a beautiful head of hair and had once or twice earned a few sous by being practised on by a hairdresser. She would laugh hilariously at the recollection. She had emerged bowed down by the weight of two or three pounds of flour and a considerable helping of pomade, looking like a lady of high fashion on the top and a poor flower seller everywhere else. But it was one way of earning a few sous although she had a hard task getting the stuff out of her hair.

But her greatest stroke of luck was with the druggist. She had done well there and was offered the opportunity to stay, which she did; and it was thus that she had been able to save enough money to make her journey to England.

It was amusing to hear her talk of the ladies of Paris. She would prance about the room in imitation of their elegance. They drank vinegar to make them thin while they took arsenic in the right doses to give them a delicately tinted skin. The druggist’s wife had aspired to be a lady. She had her arsenic at hand for her skin and she drank a pint of vinegar every day; her coiffure was a sight for wonder and at night the astonishing erection was wrapped in what looked like bandages, which made the whole contraption twice its normal size. And she would go to bed supporting false hair, flour and pomade on a kind of wooden pillow in which a place had been cut out for her neck to fit into, and which for all the discomfort gave the lady immense satisfaction.

Jeanne communicated her happiness to me and we would laugh and chat together for hours. Damaris was delighted to see us together. So Jeanne’s coming had been a very happy event.

One day a servant from Eversleigh Court rode over to Enderby with a special message from Arabella. A visitor had called on them and he came from the Field family of Hessenfield Castle in the north of England. It appeared that the present Lord Hessenfield was eager to make the acquaintance of his niece.

It was a moment of great excitement to me. Damaris, however, was a little apprehensive. I think she believed my father’s family would try to take me away from her.

We rode over to Eversleigh at once. Arabella was waiting for us, looking rather concerned.

‘This man is a sort of cousin of the present lord,’ she whispered to us when we arrived. ‘I gather he has been sent to see us.’

My heart was beating wildly with excitement as I went into the house. Arabella laid a hand on my arm. ‘He may make suggestions,’ she went on. ‘We shall have to discuss whatever it is all together. Don’t make any rash promises.’

I scarcely heard her. I could only think that I was going to discover more about my father’s family.

He was tall, like Hessenfield; his hair was light with a touch of red in it. He had the clear-cut features which I remembered my father had had; and he had very piercing blue eyes.

‘This is Clarissa,’ said Arabella, propelling me forward.

He came to me swiftly and took both my hands.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see the resemblance. You’re a Field, my dear Clarissa… isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s my name. What is yours?’

‘Ralph Field,’ he answered. ‘My uncle, Lord Hessenfield, knows of your existence and he wants to meet you.’

‘He is… my father’s brother?’

‘Exactly. He says it is not right that there should be such a close relationship and that you should not have met.’

‘Oh.’ I turned to look at Damaris.

Her face had puckered a little. I knew she was apprehensive because this man had come looking for me.

‘We feel that such a state of affairs should be rectified without delay,’ he went on. ‘You must want to meet your family.’

I tried not to look at Damaris. ‘Oh yes… of course.’

‘I was hoping that I could take you back with me.’

‘You mean for a visit?’

‘I mean just that.’

Damaris said quickly: ‘We should need time to get Clarissa ready for such a visit. And the North… it is a long way.’

‘The whole length of the country, one might say—your being in the extreme south and we in the north… right on the border.’

‘Is it rather lawless country up there?’

He laughed. ‘No more than the rest, I trow. You can be assured that the Fields know how to take care of their own.’

‘I am sure they do. But for a child…’

I felt a faint irritation. When were they going to stop referring to me as the child? It was at moments like this that I felt more intensely than ever the suffocation of this love they wrapped me in. It was like a great blanket—warm, soft and smothering.

‘Aunt Damaris,’ I said firmly, ‘I should see my father’s family.’

I wished I hadn’t spoken, for she looked so hurt. I went to her and took her hand.

‘It would only be for a little while,’ I reminded her.

Arabella said briskly: ‘I think this needs time and thought. Perhaps in a year or so…’

‘We are all impatience to meet our kinswoman. Her father was head of the family. It was a great shock to us when he died so suddenly… in his prime.’

‘It was such a long time ago,’ said Damaris.

‘That does not make it any less tragic for us, Madam. We want to know his daughter. Lord Hessenfield is very anxious that she should visit us for a time.’

Damaris and Arabella exchanged glances. ‘We will think about it,’ said Arabella. ‘Now you will be tired after your journey. I will have a room prepared for you. You will not want to start the journey back today, I am sure.’

‘My dear lady, you are so good. I shall take advantage of your hospitality. Perhaps I can persuade Clarissa to come back with me; I am sure if she knew how much we are longing to see her she would agree right away.’

‘She is a little young to make such decisions,’ said Arabella.

And again that insistence on my youth irritated me, and I think in that moment I determined to go to see my father’s family.

Poor Damaris! She was most distressed. I was sure she thought that if I went to the north I should never come back.

There were family conferences. Great-Grandfather Carleton was all against my going. ‘Damned Jacobites,’ he growled, growing red in the face. ‘There’s peace now, but they haven’t given up. They’re still drinking to the King over the Water. No, she shall not go.’

But Great-Grandfather Carleton was not the power he had once been, and Arabella finally decided that there was no harm in my going. It would only be a visit.

Priscilla was dubious and said I was too young to make such a journey.

‘She would not be on her own,’ persisted Arabella. ‘She would have a considerable bodyguard. Jeanne could go with her as her maid. It will keep her French up to standard. I always thought she shouldn’t lose that.’

‘And what of Damaris?’ demanded Priscilla. ‘She will be so wretched without her.’

‘My dear Priscilla,’ said Arabella, ‘she will miss the child, of course. We shall all miss her. We shall be delighted when she comes back. But Damaris cannot expect to keep her with her for ever… just for her own comfort. She’ll have to remember that Clarissa has her own life to lead.’

Priscilla retorted hotly: ‘You are not suggesting that Damaris is selfish, are you, Mother? Damaris is the sweetest-natured…’

‘I know. I know. But she sets such store by Clarissa. I know what she did for Clarissa… and what Clarissa has done for her. But that does not mean she can stop the child seeing her father’s relations just because she is going to miss her sadly.’

Priscilla was silent then. But the argument was continued later. Leigh thought I should go. They were, after all, my relations. ‘And it is only for a visit,’ he said.

Jeremy was against my going. But that was mainly because it upset Damaris.

This was when I really began to feel closed in by them all, and I decided that I had a right to choose my own future.

I said to Damaris: ‘Aunt Damaris, I am going to see my father’s people. I must.’

She looked sad for a moment; then she sat down and drew me to her. She looked at me very earnestly and said: ‘You shall go, my dear. You are right. You should go. It is just that I shall hate to be without you. I want to tell you something. I am going to have a child.’

‘Oh… Aunt Damaris!’

‘You will pray for me, won’t you? You’ll pray this time that I shall succeed.’

All my animosity had left me. I threw my arms about her neck.

‘I won’t go, Aunt Damaris. No, I won’t go. I couldn’t. I should be so worried about you. I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll wait until you have the little baby… and then I’ll go and see my father’s brother.’

‘No dear, you must not think of me.’

‘How could I stop doing that! I couldn’t be happy if I were not here. I want to be here with you. I want to make some of the baby clothes. I want to make sure that you are all right.’

That settled it. I should in time visit the North, but it would have to be later. It would be several months before I could set out.

Grandmother Priscilla was very pleased with the decision. She kissed me tenderly. ‘It could not have been better,’ she said. ‘Damaris is so delighted that you want to stay with her. Pray God this time she will have a healthy child.’

So Ralph Field went back with the promise that I should visit my relations in a few months’ time.

We gave ourselves up to the preparations for the baby’s arrival. At first Damaris was too much afraid of losing it to talk very much about it. But I soon put a stop to that. I had a feeling that to imagine the worst might in some mystic way bring it about, and I insisted on believing that this time the baby would live; and I watched over Damaris with a care and tenderness which was greater because of what I thought of as my recent disloyalty.

Jeanne was very useful at this time. I was amazed at the change in her. When I had known her in France she had been obsessed, first by the need to please in the hôtel and later by an even greater need to exist when she was in the cellar. She had been careworn with these necessities and they had suppressed her naturally volatile nature.

Once she realized she was safe in this comfortable household from which she would not be ejected unless she committed some terrible crime, her character reverted to what nature had intended it to be. Her rendering of our language was a continual source of amusement to us all and she was delighted to see our smiles and hear our laughter. Sometimes I think she deliberately sought to arouse our mirth. She made herself very useful. I was a little old for the services of a nursemaid, so she became my lady’s-maid. She dressed my hair, saw to my clothes and was with me constantly.

‘Clarissa is becoming elegant,’ commented Arabella.

‘We don’t want any of those fancy French fashions here,’ growled Great-Grandfather Carleton.

But everyone was pleased that Jeanne had come. They all realized what a service she had done me and we were a family who did not like accepting favours, so when we had them bestowed on us, it was a point of honour that we repaid them a hundredfold.

Jeanne, of course, was delighted at the prospect of a new baby. She loved little babies and she knew a great deal about them. She was full of advice and, as she was very handy with her needle, she provided some exquisite garments.

It was not surprising that with such events looming in the family we should not pay a great deal of attention to what was happening in the world.

Carleton, of course, was aware of it, and extremely anxious. Old as he was, he was still interested in the country’s politics. Leigh and Jeremy were, too. I was aware of this because I was amused by the different reactions of them all; Carleton was staunchly anti-Catholic and his hatred of the Jacobites was the more intense because he would no longer be of an age to tackle them if ever they attempted to take over the country. Leigh believed that everything would settle down and he was ready to accept whatever monarch came; Jeremy feared the worst and expressed the opinion that if the Jacobites attempted to put James on the throne there would be war between the Catholic faction and the Protestant supporters of the Electress of Hanover.

‘The Queen is for her half-brother,’ declared Carleton. ‘She is bemused by family feeling. State affairs should be above sentimentality.’

‘The people will never accept James,’ said Jeremy. ‘There’ll be war if he lands.’

‘The mood of the country is for the Hanoverian branch,’ said Leigh. ‘It is because it is Protestant.’

‘They say the Queen won’t invite the Electress to come to England,’ said Jeremy.

‘But,’ pointed out Leigh, ‘there are some members of the government who are threatening to do just that.’

And so it went on.

The year passed uneasily, and all this talk about the succession seemed very boring to those of us who were thinking only of Damaris.

We watched over her with care and our spirits were lifted when Priscilla declared she was sure Damaris was better than she had been during her previous pregnancies. We were longing for July to come, and yet dreading it.

We became indifferent to the talk going on around us. Vaguely we heard mention of the Queen’s state of health. She was full of gout and could not walk. Names like Harley and Bolingbroke were often spoken of. I gathered there was some feud between them. Carleton stormed about ‘that besom Abigail Hill’, who, it seemed, ruled the country, for the Queen did everything that lady told her to.

‘She’s as bad as Sarah Churchill was,’ said Carleton. ‘Women… that’s what it is. Petticoat government never did a country any good at all.’

Arabella reminded us that under the reign of Elizabeth the country had been at peace and consequently more prosperous than at any other time. ‘Women have always ruled,’ continued Arabella, ‘though sometimes they are obliged to do it through men, but you may be sure they always had a hand in government.’

Then he abused her and her sex in that way which showed clearly how much he admired her, and we all knew that he had a special fondness for the feminine members of society, so all this added a lighter note to the general brooding on what trials the future might hold.

On the twenty-eighth of July Damaris’s pains started. It was a long and arduous confinement and the child was born on the thirtieth. How great was our joy to find that it was a healthy girl. Damaris was exhausted and there was some concern for her, but even that soon passed.

‘This will do her all the good in the world,’ said Priscilla. Jeremy sat by Damaris’s bed and held her hand. I was there too and I shall never forget the exalted look in Damaris’s eyes when the baby was put into her arms.

The child was alive, breathing, healthy. At last she had achieved her goal.

There was a great deal of discussion in the family as to what this precious and most important little girl should be called. Carleton wanted her to be Arabella and Arabella said that if she was going to be named after one of the family why not Priscilla. Leigh said that was an excellent idea, but Jeremy thought there was confusion in families when the same name appeared, even after a lapse of generations.

Damaris suddenly decided that she would call the baby Sabrina. The name just came to her as suitable and Jeremy said that Damaris was certainly the one who should have the final say in the matter, and in any case he supported her entirely for he thought it was a suitable name.

So she was to be Sabrina—and we added Anne, after the Queen.

A few days after her birth an event occurred which was of great significance. The dropsy, which had plagued the Queen for so long, went to her brain, so it was said. Queen Anne died.

In spite of the fact that she had been more or less an invalid for some time, her death was a shock. She had scarcely been a clever woman but the country had increased its importance under her rule. She had been surrounded by wily politicians and had had one of the most successful generals of all time in John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. None could say she had failed in her duty in trying to produce an heir, for she had had seventeen children, but only one survived infancy and he—the poor little Duke of Gloucester—had died at eleven years of age. Thus she had plunged the country into a crisis by her death.

Only two months before, the Electress Sophia, the daughter of Elizabeth, herself the daughter of James the First, which was why Sophia had a claim to the throne, had died. She had collapsed when walking in the gardens of her palace. Some said her death was due to apoplexy brought on by her concern over the controversy aroused by the state of affairs in England.

However, that left her son George as the Protestant heir. Anne had hated what she had heard of George and always had referred to him as ‘the German Boor’ which was one of the reasons why she had been in favour of calling her half-brother James Stuart back from France.

It was this state of affairs which set the men of the family arguing together and the women praying that the foolish men would not bring about a war over whether German George or James Stuart should be their next King.

‘Why we cannot live together in peace is past my understanding,’ declared Priscilla angrily. ‘Their wars only cause misery to people who are ready to live contentedly side by side.’

Carleton was gleeful at the turn affairs had taken. Bolingbroke, that arch Jacobite, was taken by surprise when the Queen died. He had thought he would have longer to make arrangements with his Jacobite friends. He was too late, however. The Whigs were better prepared; they secured the persons of leading Jacobites in high places and simply proclaimed George of Hanover George the First of England.

Sabrina Anne was christened in September. They did not want to leave it later because of the approaching winter, so towards the end of the month when the weather was still mellow and there were bronze-tinted leaves on the trees, the ceremony was performed in Eversleigh Church with all the family present.

It was wonderful to see the radiance of Damaris with her own child at last. She looked pale, but happiness had set a glow upon her and her delicacy could not hide her great satisfaction. I had never seen Jeremy look so pleased with life since the early days of his marriage. I felt a warm glow of happiness myself and, perhaps above all… relief. I no longer felt the need to care for them, to repay them all the time for what they had done for me. Fate had done that for me.

After the ceremony we all went back to Eversleigh Court, where such family gatherings were always held.

I heard Arabella warning Carleton: ‘Let’s keep the Jacobites out of this for once.’

‘My dear wife,’ replied Carleton, ‘you can’t keep out what is creeping up like a menacing cloud over you… threatening to ruin us all.’

‘It’s no use,’ groaned Arabella. ‘I can’t part him from his Jacobites.’

It was a very happy occasion. The baby was good throughout. Indeed, Sabrina was a contented baby and cried only when suffering from some discomfort or if she wanted food, so it was easy to placate her. She was wearing the beautiful Eversleigh christening robes of white satin and Brussels lace, the same robe which so many babies had worn before her and which, after this ceremony, would be laundered and put away for the next christening. I wondered whose that would be. My own child’s, perhaps. I was twelve years old. In another four or even perhaps three years… I could be married.

My thoughts were wandering. They would try to find a husband for me. Oh no! I would not have that. I should choose my husband.

When we arrived back at Enderby the baby was taken by Jeanne to the nursery and Damaris said she would lie down and asked me to go up with her as there was something she wanted to say to me.

When we were in her room she looked at me very seriously and said: ‘There is something you will have to know, Clarissa, and now that you are proposing to visit your Hessenfield relations I and your Uncle Jeremy think it is time to tell you. Your mother was a wealthy woman. You are her heiress. We did not tell you this before but we had many consultations in the family and we came to the conclusion that it is not good for young people to know they have money.’

I was astounded. I was rich. It was something which had never occurred to me.

‘Yes,’ went on Damaris, ‘your mother inherited money through her father’s family. It has accumulated over the years as money does. When you are eighteen years of age it will come to you. We had planned to tell you on your seventeenth birthday but in view of what has happened we thought it best that you should know now.’

‘Am I… very rich?’

Damaris looked uneasy. ‘It is difficult to know exactly how much there is for you to inherit. It will be in bonds and suchlike. Your great-uncle was a very good business man and a cautious one. He had arranged for everything to be well taken care of. There is something else, too. When your kinsman from the North came here he told us that your father had left you money. A great deal of this was in France, for he had managed to shift some of his assets over there when he was resident at the Court of Saint Germain and in Paris. The fact is that you are a considerable heiress.’

‘How strange!’ I said. ‘I don’t feel any different.’

‘My dear child, your grandmother and I have been a little worried. You see, you are going away from us, and there are fortune-hunters… You are so young as yet. But your mother, when she was about your age, was deceived by an adventurer. We thought you should know of this. Dear Clarissa, don’t look so alarmed. It would be considered good news by most people, you know.’

‘I’m surprised really. Fancy me… an heiress!’

Damaris put her arms round me and kissed me tenderly. ‘It won’t make any difference, will it… not to us?’

‘How could it?’ I asked, bewildered.

‘Well, now you know. You will be going away very soon. We shall have to start thinking about that. Clarissa, it was good of you to stay until Sabrina was born.’

‘I had to. I should have been so desperately worried if I hadn’t been with you.’

She looked at me earnestly and then she said: ‘Will you promise me something?’

‘Of course… if I can.’

‘If anything should happen to me and Jeremy… would you look after Sabrina?’

‘Anything happen? What do you mean?’

‘We live in a dangerous world. People are killed on the roads. I heard only yesterday of a family who were travelling in their coach and were set on by footpads. There was resistance and the wife was shot. There were Harriet and Gregory too… It has set me thinking. If anything should happen to us while Sabrina needs to be cared for… would you look after her… for me?’

‘Oh, dearest Aunt Damaris, of course I would.’ I felt suddenly uplifted. For the first time since I arrived in England I had been made to feel I was not a child. I was someone capable of accepting responsibility and they realized it.

Was that what being an heiress meant?

My Great-Uncle Carl, of whom I had seen very little, had come home. He had been abroad fighting during the war and had distinguished himself in the service of the Duke of Marlborough and won honours at Blenheim, Oudenarde and Malplaquet. He was something of a hero and Great-Grandfather Carleton was clearly very proud of him.

I heard my Grandmother Priscilla say to Damaris: ‘Your grandfather always loved Carl best. I can tell you that when I was a young girl I always took second place. No, not even that. He hardly noticed my existence.’

‘He does now,’ said Damaris, and Priscilla just looked thoughtful.

So here was Uncle Carl—bronzed and handsome, a hero returned from the wars. He must have been in his mid-forties; he was four years or so younger than Priscilla. He was still in the army, of course, and had a great deal to think about.

He did not come alone but brought with him Sir Lance Clavering, who was much younger than he was and who had also returned from the war. Uncle Carl had been his commanding officer and clearly had some respect for him. Lance Clavering was, according to Arabella, nothing more than a boy. I suppose he seemed so to her but he was quite mature to me. He was in fact twenty years old, nearly eight years older than I was and that made him seem very grown up. I thought him outstandingly handsome. His clothes were exquisite. He was not in uniform like Uncle Carl because he had merely been a soldier during the war. Uncle Carl was General Eversleigh, and a regular soldier.

But it was Lance who held my attention. His fresh complexion was accentuated by the whiteness of his Ramillies wig which was drawn back from his brow and puffed out full over the ears. At the back it was made into a plait which was tied at the bottom and at the nape of his neck with black satin bows. The cuffs of his elegantly cut full-skirted coat were trimmed with exquisite lace; this coat came down to his knees so that his breeches were not visible but I could glimpse a beautifully embroidered waistcoat. His stockings were white and his black shoes had silver buckles. On one of the gold buttons on his coat hung a cane. I had never seen such a picture of elegance and I was greatly impressed.

I was presented to him by my Great-Uncle Carl who seemed fond of him in an amused sort of way. He was to stay with us for a while, I learned, until he went with Carl to York. Their business there was secret because I was warned not to ask anything about it.

They both stayed at Eversleigh Court.

At Enderby we discussed Lance at length. Jeremy thought him a fop, but Damaris was inclined to be more tolerant.

‘Uncle Carl seems to think something of him,’ she said. ‘After all, he’s travelling to York with him on what appears to be important business.’

‘I can’t understand that,’ muttered Jeremy.

‘He is only a young man,’ Damaris pointed out. ‘He must have been only a boy when he joined the army. That shows some strength of character surely when he might have been at home having a good time in London. I believe he comes of a rich family.’

Jeremy grunted. Of course he would not like Lance Clavering. If ever two men were the exact opposites these two were. Lance was in constant good humour. He seemed to find life a great joke. He was extremely gallant and expressed interest in whatever interested other people. He even discussed the making of country wines with Priscilla; with Damaris he talked of dogs and horses, and with the men he discussed the battles of the war with a knowledge that almost equalled that of Great-Uncle Carl himself. Even Great-Grandfather Carleton was amused by him. Lance and I rode together on one or two occasions and he made a great effort to discover what interested me and then talked about it with such enthusiasm that one would have believed the subject was the one nearest his heart. He had charm, grace, elegance and above all that overwhelming desire to please.

‘He is a great asset to any gathering,’ was Arabella’s comment.

Jeanne said: ‘Oh, but what a pretty gentleman!’ And when I told him what she had said he was not in the least offended. He burst out laughing and said he must make sure to remain pretty for Jeanne.

His imperturbable good humour was catching and there was a great deal of laughter when he was present. Life seemed a joke to him. When the men went hunting, one of our neighbours—a ‘country boor’, Carleton called him—made a point of splashing through a muddy stream so that the dirty water spattered Lance’s pearl-grey riding habit. Lance brushed it aside, I heard, with nonchalance and made the perpetrator of the so-called joke more uncomfortable than he was.

He was always wagering something. It was a favourite expression of his: ‘I’ll wager this…’ or ‘I’ll wager that…’

One day when we were all at Eversleigh Court round the dinner table the talk turned to the arrival of the new King and Great-Grandfather Carleton was saying that it was a pity we had to call on a German to give us the sort of rule we wanted.

All the family were staunchly Protestant. I was the only one who wavered and that was solely because Hessenfield had been a Jacobite. But I did realize that I knew very little about the controversy and I had heard so much at Eversleigh about the errors of Catholicism that I was ready to accept the fact that the Protestant succession was best for the country.

‘But even with our staunch Protestants the new King is not popular,’ said Arabella.

‘Anne called him the German-Boor, and it is a fitting description,’ said Great-Uncle Carl.

‘But we don’t want the Jacobites back,’ cried Carleton. ‘And George seems the only alternative.’

‘At least he is in the line of succession,’ put in Arabella. ‘I remember hearing about his grandmother… oh, long ago, when I was a girl. She was the sister of King Charles who lost his head—and a very beautiful Princess, they said. She married the Elector Palatine. Sophia was her daughter and as George was Sophia’s son he has a claim to the throne.’

‘The Jacks wouldn’t say that while we have the son of James panting to take the crown,’ said Lance, laughing as though it were a great joke. ‘They’ll never put him back. The people don’t want it. But they’ll have a good try.’

Uncle Carl flashed a look at him which might have been a warning.

Lance tapped the side of his nose exaggeratedly to show that the point was taken and he was still smiling as he went on: ‘Old George is not so bad, I hear. He’s a good friend… to his friends, and he’s quick to forget an injury. He’s good-tempered, and as mean as a man can be. He regrets spending a groat. He’s completely ignorant of literature and art and doesn’t want to be otherwise. ‘Boetry?’ Lance made what I guessed to be a good imitation of a German accent. ‘Boetry… vat ist not vor shentelmans.’ But of course his English is not nearly as clear as that. Poor old George, I believe he did not want to come here one little bit.’

‘People won’t like a German,’ said Arabella.

‘They’ll get used to him,’ added Priscilla.

‘I believe people get used to anything in time,’ went on Lance, ‘even Mesdemoiselles Kielmansegge and Schulemberg.’

‘And who are they?’ I asked.

‘Do have some more of this roast beef,’ cut in Priscilla.

‘We thought the sloe gin was particularly good this year,’ added Arabella.

This was another instance of their protection. I knew at once that there was something shocking to be learned about the ladies Lance had mentioned and that I was being shielded once more, so I repeated, looking directly at Lance: ‘Who are they?’

‘They are the King’s mistresses,’ he answered, smiling at me.

‘Clarissa is… er…’ began Damaris, blushing a little.

‘The lady Clarissa is more worldly than you give her credit for,’ said Lance, and I think he won my heart at that moment. He turned to me and went on: ‘They are German ladies… one incredibly fat, the other amazingly lean. You see, his Germanic Majesty likes variety. They speak very little English, like himself, and they are two of the most unattractive women in Europe. It is considered something of a joke that they should be the first German imports to show the country.’

‘It all sounds a bit of a joke,’ I said.

‘It is. I always thought so much in life is. Do you agree?’

So we bantered and talked and the family watched and I really believe that at last they realized I was not the baby they had been imagining I was. Lance had made them see that I was almost grown up, and I loved him for that.

It transpired that my Great-Uncle Carl and Lance would shortly be leaving for York. They were on some mission for the army.

Damaris said: ‘Clarissa is going north to stay with her father’s relations. Perhaps she could accompany you as far as York. That is surely on the way. It would be a great relief to know that she had your protection… even so far!’

Lance immediately cried out that it was a capital idea and after a few moments’ reflection Carl said he was sure it could be managed. It would mean my setting out a little before I had intended but Damaris was reconciled to that because she thought it would be good for me to travel with Carl and Lance.

Preparations became intensive and while we were packing Damaris said to me: ‘I wonder if you would mind if I kept Jeanne here? She seems to manage Sabrina better than anyone.’

I was disappointed, because I had grown so fond of Jeanne, and her bright Anglo-French conversation was always amusing to listen to. However, I did know how useful she was to Damaris and I was so excited at the prospect of my journey that I readily said of course she must stay.

It was a warm day—the last of September—when we set out. We could not have left it much later. Damaris had said a tearful farewell to me and Jeremy stood beside her, a little reproachful because I so obviously wanted to meet my father’s family. Jeanne was both tearful and voluble. She was torn between her desire to be with the new little baby and to come with me whom she regarded as her very own.

I was really rather glad to get away and felt ashamed of myself for this. I will get back before Christmas if that’s possible, I thought, for I knew they would hate to celebrate Christmas at Eversleigh without me.

I rode between Carl and Lance Clavering and we were all very merry once we were on the high road and had left the sadness of parting behind us.

It was a beautiful morning. The warmth of summer was still with us although the leaves of the oaks had turned to a deep bronze, and in the hedgerows the field maples were showing their orange and red banners. The tang of the sea was in the faint mist which enveloped everything and gave a touch of misty blueness to the woods.

With us were two serving-men and two more to look after the packhorses. They rode behind us keeping a watch on the roads.

Lance said: ‘How I love setting out on a journey. It’s an adventure in itself. Do you think so, Clarissa? The sun will break through at any moment. But I like the mist. Do you? There is an air of mystery about a mist… mystery and adventure. What say you, Clarissa?’

His questions were rhetorical. He never waited for answers. ‘It’s a morning for singing,’ he went on. ‘What say you?’ Then he broke into song.

‘There came seven gipsies on a day

Oh, but they sang bonny O

And they sang so sweet and they sang so clear

Down came the Earl’s lady O

‘They gave to her the nutmeg

They gave to her the ginger

But she gave to them a far better thing

The seven gold rings off her fingers.’

‘You’ll awaken the countryside,’ said Carl.

‘They should be about at this hour,’ retorted Lance. ‘It’s such a pathetic story. Do you know the rest of it, Clarissa?’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘The Earl’s lady went off with the gipsies.’

‘So you do know the story.’ He went on singing:

‘Last night I lay on a good feather bed

And my own wedded lord beside me

And tonight I’ll lie in the ash corner

With the gipsies all around me.

‘The castle lost for the love of the gipsies. What do you think of the Earl’s lady? Was she a wise woman or a foolish one?’

‘Foolish,’ I replied promptly. ‘She would soon get tired of the ash corner and the gipsies all around her. She’ll be wanting her high-heeled Spanish shoes before long, you can be sure.’

‘What a practical girl you are! I thought you would have more romantic ideas. Most girls have.’

‘I am not most girls. I am myself.’

‘Ah, we have an individualist here.’

‘I think the lady was not only foolish but unkind.’ I sang the last verse of the song.

‘The Earl of Casham is lying sick

Not one hair I’m sorry

I’d rather have a kiss from his fair lady’s lips

Than all his gold and money.’

‘And you find such sentiments foolish?’ asked Lance.

‘Extremely so.’

So we chattered rather frivolously until we stopped at an inn for refreshment and to rest the horses; but after a short stay there we were on our way again.

We passed through villages and towns and I noticed that Carl was watchful, as though he were looking out for something. I knew of course that they were going to York for some secret purpose and I was glad, for to travel in their company—and particularly that of Lance—was exhilarating.

Through the golden afternoon we rode on and at dusk came to an inn which they had previously decided should be the one where we spent the night.

Rooms were prepared for us and we had a grand meal of fish with a delicious sauce, followed by roast mutton and a kind of syllabub which was a speciality of the innkeeper’s wife. I was given cider and the man sat back sipping their port. While we were at table a man came into the dining room. I don’t know why I noticed him. He was dressed in a dark brown frieze coat with black buttons, brown shoes and black stockings. On his formally curled peruke was a three-cornered hat which he took off when he came into the inn parlour.

He sat close by and I had the impression that he was interested in us. It might have been that Lance Clavering’s elegance would arouse interest wherever he went. Uncle Carl certainly looked less impressive without his uniform. As for myself I was only a very young girl and I had a feeling that it was the men who were arousing the stranger’s interest. He sat quietly in a corner and after a while I forgot him.

I was tired out with the day’s riding and the fresh air had made me sleepy, and as soon as I was shown to my room I went to bed and slept deeply. I was amazed that morning came so swiftly and I was aroused by the stirring of the inn folk. I got up and looked out of my window. Lance was down there. He looked up and saw me.

‘Did you sleep well, beauteous maid?’ he asked.

‘The sleep of exhaustion,’ I told him.

‘What tired you so? Not my company, I hope.’

‘No, that was enlivening. I went to sleep thinking about the Earl’s lady.’

‘That foolish one! There’s no need to hurry this morning. We shall be late leaving. One of the horses has cast a shoe. They’ll be taking her along to the smith.’

‘Oh… when did this happen?’

‘I’ve just discovered it. We shall be leaving at eleven. That will give us a chance to go to the fair.’

‘The fair? What fair?’

‘With your entertainment in mind, I. have been acquainting myself with the lie of the land. It seems that in the village of Langthorn… or is it Longhorn, I am not sure… in any case, the fair comes to the village twice a year and it so happens that this day is one of its biannual visits. Fortuitous, you may say, and so it is. The powers that be are determined that this shall be an interesting journey for all concerned.’

‘What does my great-uncle say?’

‘He is resigned. He has some business to do here, in any case. So he said to me, “Will you look after my little niece for an hour or so, Clavering?” I replied, “Indeed I will, sir. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, sir. If you have no objection, your little niece and I will visit the fair.” He gave his willing consent to this excursion.’

‘Are you always so exuberant and talkative?’

‘Only when I have an appreciative audience.’

‘You find me appreciative?’

‘I find you everything I would wish you to be at the precise moment I would wish it. Now that, my dear Clarissa, is the definition of an attractive woman.’

‘I suspect that you do not mean all the flattering things you say.’

‘A statement of fact is not flattery, is it? One eulogizes because the spirit moves one to do so. One speaks as one finds and if there is a flow of words… well, that is useful, but it is not flattery. To you I speak the truth and if it seems overfulsome that is because modesty is yet another of your excellent virtues.’

‘Have you ever been at a loss for words?’

‘There have been times. At the gaming table, perhaps, when I have lost more than I could afford.’

‘That must be alarming.’

‘Well, it is part of the gamble. If a man won every time there would be no excitement, would there? But I must not talk to you of gambling. Your family would heartily disapprove of that. Well, what say you to a visit to the fair?’

‘I should love it.’

‘Then break your fast early, and we’ll set off. I promise you an exciting morning.’

‘I will be as quick as I can.’

I turned from the window, pulled the bell-rope and asked for hot water. I washed and went down. While I was eating hot crisp bacon on crusty bread and drinking a mug of ale, the man in the frieze coat came in. He was dressed for departure. He talked to the landlord about his horse. He was obviously rather anxious to be on his way.

When I left the dining room Lance was waiting for me and he told me we had a couple of hours before we need be back at the inn. As we walked into the village we heard sounds of merriment. The fair was set up in a field where there were brightly-coloured booths and such crowds that I guessed many people had some in from the neighbouring countryside.

Lance took my arm. ‘Keep close to me,’ he said. ‘At fairs like this robbers abound. Keep your hands on your purse and if anyone attempts to snatch it, shout and I’ll prevent the robbery. Above all, keep close and don’t stray from your protector.’

‘Who is you… Sir Lancelot!’

‘I have a confession to make to you. That is my real name. As soon as I became aware of its implications—that was when I was seven years old, for I was a very intelligent child, as you have gathered, and the quality has stayed with me in later life—I changed it. Lancelot! Imagine. Lance is so much more suitable. There is something rather aggressive about a lance. A weapon of war.’

‘Lancelot was aggressive at times, I believe. And then there was all that trouble over Guinevere.’

‘All the same, I should hate to go through life with the label of knighthood attached to me.’

I laughed.

‘You are amused?’ he asked.

‘We seem to get into discussions about matters which are of no real importance.’

‘My name is of the utmost importance to me… and I hope it will be to you. As for those Spanish leather shoes you were so anxious about, I think I learned something about you through your attitude to the Earl’s lady and that is what interests me, my dear Clarissa.’

‘I fancy you might be a little like Sir Lancelot after all,’ I said. ‘What is that smell?’

‘An ox… roasting. A necessary feature of such occasions. They’ll be selling it at so much a slice.’

‘I don’t think I should want any of it.’

‘But you’ll have a fairing, won’t you? For I shall insist on that.’

‘I have an idea that you will not have to be too insistent.’

I was fascinated by the fair. I had never seen anything like it. I felt I was stepping out into adventure. But perhaps this had something to do with the company of Lance Clavering. Perhaps it was because he did not treat me as a child.

The autumn sun was faintly warming and it gave a glow to goods displayed the stalls. There was one section for the cattle. Horses were for sale, too, but it was the stalls that fascinated me. Together Lance and I inspected the saddles, the boots, other clothing, pots, brushes, ornaments, potatoes in their jackets roasting in a brazier; there were chestnuts, too. Lance bought a bag of these and we munched contentedly.

This was a special fair, Lance told me. There were sideshows with waxworks, dwarfs and conjurers. There was one extremely fat woman and a very thin one and these caused great amusement because they were meant to remind the people of the King’s mistresses whom he had brought with him from Germany. They were not very respectful towards their new monarch.

We went into one tent and watched a puppet show; we applauded wildly with the rest of the company and I noticed that Lance’s clothes attracted some attention, but the people were used to gentry looking in at the fair, so his presence was not as unusual as it might have been.

He took me to the fairing stall and asked me to choose what I liked. There were sweetmeats tied up with ribbons making lovers’ knots—most of them heart-shaped, or in the form of some animal. There was a dog who looked rather like Damon. I hesitated over that; and then I saw a sugar mouse; it had bright pink eyes, a long tail and about its neck was a piece of blue ribbon. I was reminded immediately of the sugar mouse I had had all those years ago when Hessenfield had held up the coach and I had given him the tail of my mouse because although I had not known he was my father I had loved him.

Lance saw that I was looking at the mouse, so he took it, and with it a heart in pink marzipan decorated with lovers’ knots. He insisted on buying that as well so we came away from the stall with the mouse and the heart.

He wanted to hear why I liked the mouse, and I told him.

‘Ah yes,’ he said, ‘Hessenfield.’ And for the first time since I had known him he looked a little serious.

We went on through the fair. I wanted to stop time passing. It was a magic morning and I was so happy to be there. I felt excited because I felt that anything could happen.

But as though fate was reminding me that it is not the way of life to give happiness all the time, I saw the hiring stall. I wished I had not passed that way as I looked at those sad people offering themselves for hire. They were people who had failed to find work in any other way. There was an old man who had desperation in his eyes and there was a girl of about my age. I felt it must be the ultimate humiliation to have to offer oneself in this way. There were others there too—some carrying the tools of their trade to tell prospective employers what they could do. I had never seen such expressions of mingled hope and desperation. Lance noticed my reaction, and, taking my arm, gently turned me away from the hiring stall.

I walked very quietly, not seeing the stalls of pots and pans, the geese which had been cooked and were browning over a fire; I did not hear the quack doctors shouting of the benefits and miracles performed by their pills for lucky purchasers. I could only think of the desperate expression in the eyes of the old man and the girl who could have been myself.

‘You have a tender heart, little Clarissa,’ said Lance, ‘and you have a great gift for putting yourself in the place of others. It is rare. Keep it. It will make life richer and fuller for you.’

So there was after all a serious side to his nature, I reasoned, to talk like that and to mean what he said, for I sensed that he did. We came to the boxing booth.

‘We’ll go in here,’ said Lance, and I saw then that his seriousness had vanished. An excitement seemed to grip him.

We were inside a large tent. In this a ring had been set up and two men were fighting each other. There were forms on -which we sat.

It was warm in the tent. I could see the sweat glistening on the bodies of the fighters, who were bare to the waist. I found it rather repulsive and would have liked to leave but when I turned to Lance I saw the rapt expression on his face as he watched the men pummelling each other.

After what seemed a long time to me, one was knocked down. The cheers shook the tent and a man came forward and held up the victor’s hand. He smiled at the crowd although there was blood on his forehead.

Now someone was calling out: ‘Place your bets,’ and Lance rose and joined the people about a man who was seated a table. Money was exchanged.

Then two men came out and began to fight. I found it all rather nauseating, but I could not take my eyes from Lance, who was clearly engrossed in what was taking place and seemed to have forgotten I was there. When the fight was over he shrugged his shoulders and when I suggested we leave he reluctantly rose and we did so.

‘You don’t care much for the sport of kings,’ he said.

‘I thought that was horse racing.’

‘It depends on the king… which he prefers, you see. I have not heard our noble George’s likes in the matter.’

‘What were you doing at the table? We had already paid to go in.’

‘I was placing my bet.’

‘Bet? What bet?’

‘On the winner. It was a little gamble.’

‘So you gambled on which one of those men would win?’

‘Yes… and on the wrong one.’

‘So you lost some money.’

‘Alas, I did.’

‘Oh dear, I hope not too much.’

‘Five pounds.’

I was aghast. It seemed a great deal of money to me. ‘Five pounds. That is terrible.’

‘Sweet Clarissa, to be so concerned. But think what would have happened if my man had won.’

‘You would have got a lot of money then, I suppose.’

‘Fifty perhaps… fifty for five. Think of it. Wouldn’t that have been wonderful?’

‘But you lost.’

‘Ah, but I might have won.’

I was silent. Then I said: ‘It was a great risk. And you lost.’

‘That’s what makes it exciting. If you knew you were going to win all the time where would be the thrill?’

‘It would be more thrilling surely to win all the time.’

‘You haven’t the gambler’s spirit, I can see.’

I did not answer. A faint cloud had settled over the outing. I had been so gloriously happy. Then I had seen the hiring stall and now Lance had lost five pounds. These two events shadowed my morning.

It was time in any case to return to the inn. I was surprised to see the man in the brown frieze coat was still there, for previously he had been making such a fuss about his horse being ready in time.

Within a short while we were on the road again.