The Drop of the Dice

THE VERDICT

WE WERE RIDING OFF when the first streaks of light were in the sky. It was not really so early, for the days were short at this time of year. Lance said that at least we should be home in time for Christmas and he was sure my family would be pleased at that.

We did not see any more of Timperly and his friends. Some of the coach people had been there though when we left for they had to leave very early.

One of them said to me of Lance: ‘You have a very fine gentleman there.’

I glowed with pride and agreed with her.

Then we were off. Lance seemed to have forgotten the incident. Perhaps such were commonplace in the exciting life which he led. He sang as we went and again and again urged me to join in. I did and I could not help feeling my spirits rising. Such was the effect his company had on me.

In due course we came to the Hoop and Grapes which was another inn where Lance knew we should be well looked after. I commented on the fact that he was knowledgeable on the subject of inns.

‘Seasoned traveller,’ he replied.

We went in and had an excellent meal and once more became involved with the company, this time in a friendly fashion.

Two men were travelling with their wives and it was obvious from everything about them that they were of the gentry. We chatted amicably with them and discovered that they were on their way to their home in London. They knew Lance by repute and were clearly pleased to be in his company.

We had dined together and during the conversation it transpired that Lance and the gentlemen had several mutual acquaintances.

‘I remember old Cherrington,’ said one of them. ‘Lost twenty thousand one night at that place… what was it called… The Cocoanut Tree?’

‘Fortunes were won and lost there,’ said Lance, his eyes sparkling. ‘At one time it was the most frequented gambling den in London.’

‘I say,’ said one of the men, ‘what about a little flutter now?’

‘Nothing would suit me better,’ cried Lance.

My heart sank. I had hoped that we might sit and talk, for I found great comfort in his company. But I could see the gambling fever was on him, and how excited he was at the prospect of indulging it.

As soon as the meal was over they were impatient to begin. He turned to me and said that he thought I needed an early night as we must be off at the crack of dawn if we were to reach London the next day.

I felt I was dismissed, and holding my head rather high to feign indifference, I said good night to the company and left them.

Although I was thinking of Dickon and wondering what had become of him, I felt hurt that Lance should prefer the company of these strangers to mine. Why must he always seize every opportunity to risk his money? Moreover, he had left me alone. He had explained to our fellow travellers that I was the niece of General Eversleigh and that he had been commissioned to take me to London—which, he hastened to add, was one of the most pleasurable duties which had ever been assigned to him.

I was unmoved by such blandishments and angry that he should have dismissed me so cursorily, merely so that he could enjoy a gambling game with his new-found friends.

I undressed and went to bed, but could not sleep. I kept going over the days I had spent with Dickon, remembering everything he had said and the wonder of discovering the love between us. I likened it to the rising of the sun: first a few streaks of light in the sky and then the sudden emergence and the bursting forth in glory to touch all life with some mystical magic.

The more angry I grew with Lance the more poetic I became about my relationship with Dickon; but I was surprised that even in the midst of my anxieties I should still feel such deep resentment towards Lance.

‘He is an inveterate gambler,’ I told myself, it is a great flaw in his character. Oh, he was noble enough when he stood up for the coach people, but I think he did it because it was a gamble to him.’

The night was passing and I had not heard him come upstairs. I went to my door and looked out. All was quiet. I tiptoed along the corridor to his room and opened the door very cautiously. He had not come up, for the room was empty and his bed undisturbed. So he was still down there, gambling with those people. My watch told me it was two o’clock. I returned to my bed and lay there wondering how much he was losing… or winning.

It was past three o’clock when I heard him come upstairs—quietly tiptoeing. I leaped out of bed and, opening my door, confronted him.

‘Clarissa!’ he cried.

‘Do you realize what time it is?’

He laughed. ‘Past three?’

‘All this time you have been down there… gambling.’

He came towards me. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ he asked.

‘How could I? I was worried.’

‘About me?’

‘I was thinking of Dickon.’

‘Ah, yes. Well, it was foolish of you. You should have been fast asleep. Do you realize that in a few hours we have to be on our way?’

‘Did you realize that?’

‘I can do with very little sleep.’

‘Did you… win?’

He looked at me ruefully and shook his head. ‘It was good play, though.’

‘So you lost!’

‘The hazard of the game, you know.’

‘How… how much?’

‘Not a great deal.’

‘How much?’ I repeated.

He laughed. ‘You look so severe. Well, fifty pounds.’

‘Fifty pounds!’

‘It was a long session.’

‘I think it is foolish. Good night.’

‘Clarissa.’ He took a step towards me and laid his hands on my shoulders. ‘Thanks for your concern,’ he said. Then he drew me towards him and kissed me.

I drew back in some confusion.

‘Good night,’ he said quietly. ‘Go to sleep now. Remember we leave early.’

Then he went to his room and I went back to mine. He had disturbed me. He had really startled me when he kissed me. I had been very much aware of my scanty apparel, and perhaps my feelings were somehow involved with what I felt for Dickon.

I told myself I was annoyed with Lance and that it was not very gallant of him to have sent me off to bed as though I were a child.

I sank back into my bed. I was cold and still found it hard to sleep, but finally I did so and almost immediately, it seemed, I was awakened by a knocking on my door informing me that it was time to get up.

We left early as planned. Lance seemed none the worse for what must have been a very short night for him. He was as merry as ever and prepared to entertain me with stories of his adventures as we rode along.

I could not stop myself referring to the previous night and again expressing my disapproval of his losing so much money.

‘You won twenty the night before,’ I pointed out, ‘and then lost it… and more besides.’

‘That’s how it is with the gambler,’ he said. ‘He is spurred on by his winnings only to lose much more with them.’

‘Then surely it is a foolish habit.’

‘Indeed you are right. But as you go through life you will discover that so many things which are foolish are also irresistible. That’s the tragedy of it.’

‘I should have thought a little strength of mind…’

‘You are absolutely right… only it is not a little that is needed in this case, but a great deal.’

‘I was so pleased that you won twenty and in such a noble way.’

‘It is no use brooding on these matters, dear Clarissa. That which was won at the Plump Partridge has now found its way into another’s pocket, and the coach people have long forgotten their good dinner.’

‘I think they will remember you for a long time. They will talk of it to their children in the years to come.’

‘It will be like a candle in a dark world. Candles gutter, Clarissa, and soon go out. What a dismal conversation! Soon we shall be in London. There we shall spend one night at my residence and the next day set out for Enderby. Your adventure is nearly over. Thank you for letting me share in it.’

‘It is I who should be thanking you.’

‘It has been a wonderful journey. A duel of sorts in the Plump Partridge, losing fifty pounds last night, a lecture on the evil of my ways—and best of all, my dear sweet Clarissa, your company.’

I was mollified. He had great charm of manner and perhaps I liked him better because of his obvious imperfections.

So we rode on and I was moved when I saw the great stone walls of the mighty Tower of London, and the river running like a ribbon between the fields and houses. It was growing dusky as we came through the city to Albemarle Street where Lance had his London residence. As soon as we arrived there was a bustle of excitement. There seemed to be innumerable servants. He explained that a room was to be prepared for the niece of General Eversleigh whom he was taking next day to her family in the country. In the meantime our main desire was for food and we were very tired after having ridden so far.

It was a beautiful house—by no means old. It had been designed, I learned later, by Christopher Wren soon after the Great Fire of London when the famous architect was rebuilding so much of the town. It was not large, by Eversleigh standards, but it had an elegance which bigger houses lacked. The panelling was beautiful, the curved staircase of exquisite design and everything as I would have expected, knowing Lance, was far from flamboyant but at the same time impressed even those like myself that it was in the best possible taste.

The household was impeccably run. That was obvious by the speed with which our rooms were made ready and the meal served.

We sat in a room with windows which reached almost from floor to ceiling that they might let in the maximum of light. There was a silver candelabrum on the table and in the mellow lighting I found the surroundings extremely gracious.

‘I think your house is beautiful,’ I told Lance.

‘Thank you, Clarissa. I am rather fond of it myself. I spend a great deal of time here… rather than in the country. I am, as you may have observed, what is generally known as “a man about town”.’

‘Well, naturally,’ I replied. ‘The gaming houses are here.’

‘Oh, you can manage very well in the country. There are all sorts of ways of losing your money there, I assure you.’

‘And saving it would not provide the same excitement, I suppose.’

‘How could it?’

‘It would to me,’ I said. ‘I should enjoy watching it accumulate.’

‘Dear saintly Clarissa! A lesson to us all… and in particular to foolish gamblers. Try some of this soup. It is my cook’s very special pride. I believe there is always a cauldron of it bubbling in the kitchen.’

‘You are very well cared for here.’

‘I see to it. It is one of the passions of my life to be well cared for… second to gambling, of course.’

‘I am learning a great deal about you.’

‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous. I am learning a little about you, too.’

‘I often think it is a mistake to know too much about people.’

‘That could be a very profound statement,’ he said.

So we bantered.

I spent the night in a delightful room. There was a fire in the grate and no sooner had I sunk into my feather bed than I was sound asleep.

I was awakened by a serving girl who brought me hot water. It was still dark but she told me that Sir Lance had said we were to be ready to leave as soon as it was light.

Oddly enough I felt a certain regret that the adventure was nearly over. I was still dazed by all that had happened. I was just beginning to realize how much I had enjoyed my days with Lance.

We left the comfort of the house in Albemarle Street and took the road to the south-east. There were two stops on the road and the last was at the historic town of Canterbury. We were then a day’s ride from Eversleigh.

In all the places we passed through, if we stopped and engaged in conversation with anyone the talk always turned to the attempted rising of the Chevalier de St George—or the Pretender, as he was more frequently called.

There was fear of war in the air and I was uneasy, thinking that if it really came Dickon would be on one side, my family on the other.

Lance was a little subdued, I thought, as we rode out of Canterbury.

I asked if he was thinking of the martyr who had been slain in the Cathedral. Was it the fate of St Thomas which occupied his mind and made him melancholy?

‘No,’ he cried. ‘I must confess I had hardly given him a thought. Surely you know there could be only one cause for my melancholy. It is because soon I must part from you.’

I was so happy to hear him say that that I laughed with pleasure; then I remembered Dickon and was ashamed that I could do so.

‘You have a habit of saying what people want to hear,’ I said.

‘Not a bad habit, you will agree.’

‘If you mean it…’

‘That,’ he said, ‘is an added bonus. I assure you I mean what I say when I tell you I have rarely enjoyed anything more than our little jaunt together. Thank you, dearest Clarissa, for giving me such a happy time.’

‘Nonsense. You know it is I who should be thanking you,’ I replied. ‘I am afraid I have been a melancholy companion.’

‘Indeed you have not. In spite of all that happened you have made me feel you have enjoyed our journey.’

‘I have been as happy as it was possible for me to be considering all that has happened and how worried I am.’

We rode on in silence. I think we were both a little moved.

That day we reached Enderby. Damaris rushed out in amazement when she realized who it was. She hugged me tightly and then I was seized by Jeremy.

‘Oh, Clarissa… we’ve been so worried… so anxious… with all this going on.’

Damon jumped round and I was glad he took an immediate fancy to Lance.

I must see Sabrina, who had grown since I left; messages were sent over to the Court and to the Dower House. They would all be coming over to Enderby. This was a great occasion.

Lance stayed the night and received the thanks of every member of the family for bringing me home safely. They listened spellbound to my story which I told them in detail for I saw no reason to withhold anything except of course my love for Dickon and his for me.

‘Thank God for this Dickon,’ said Damaris. ‘Oh, my darling, you were in great danger.’

‘Damned Jacobites,’ growled Great-Grandfather Carleton. ‘I’d string up the lot of them. As for that Pretender… hanging’s too good for him.’

So I was back in the bosom of my family and it seemed strange to be sleeping in my own bed again.

Christmas came. Damaris kept telling me how delighted she was that I was home in time for the celebrations. Besides, this was no time to be travelling about the country. There could be civil war, and what a disaster that would be, and all because some people wanted to put this Pretender on the throne.

She was sure the loyal army with men like Uncle Carl commanding it would soon put a stop to all that nonsense—but there might be trouble first.

Jeanne was delighted that I was safely back. She wept and crooned over me.

‘Oh, Mademoiselle Clarissa, you are the one things happen to,’ she cried. ‘It is the way with some. There you are snatched from England… brought to France, living in a grand house and then in a cellar. Rescued from that… you see how it goes. Oh, how ’appy I am that you are with us again! “Christmas,” I said, “What is Christmas without the little Clarissa?” I have la petite Sabrina… yes. I have the little one. But for you there is something special… Do you know…’ She touched her heart. ‘Something in here…’

‘Jeanne,’ I said solemnly, ‘I shall always love you.’

Then we wept together.

I could not join wholeheartedly in the festivities. All the time I was wondering where Dickon was and whether I should hear from him. We did hear scraps of news about the Pretender. He had left Bar-le-Duc, where he had been living—for he was no longer welcome at the French Court—and, disguising himself as a servant, had travelled to St Malo where he had tried to take ship to Scotland. This he failed to do, so he made his way to Dunkirk. It was at that time the middle of December but, accompanied by a few attendants he managed to find a ship to take him to Scotland and landed at Peterhead three days before Christmas.

This news filled me with dismay for I felt certain there would be bitter fighting, and if there was, Dickon might well be in the thick of it.

The days passed and there was no news. The family had been amazed to hear that I had a half-sister. It was something they did not want to discuss openly though, because they deplored the fact that my parents had not been married and they found it rather shameful that Hessenfield should have had another illegitimate daughter.

I thought a great deal about those days in Paris when Aimée must have been living not so very far from me, and chatting with Jeanne was the best way of recalling them. Naturally she remembered so much more of our life there than I could. I asked her a great many questions and I began to feel that I was back there living it all again.

I made her tell me about the life at the hôtel. ‘Did you ever hear of Aimée and her mother?’

‘Never,’ declared Jeanne. ‘But never… never. My lord was always with your mother when he was in Paris. He did go away now and then… it was all rather secret. He went to and from Paris to the Court at Saint-Germain. But never did I hear that there was another woman.’

‘Are you sure, Jeanne?’

Jeanne nodded emphatically. She closed her eyes and lifted her head to the ceiling. She was casting her mind back in time.

‘I remember it well,’ she said, ‘I remember Yvonne, Sophie, Armand… he was the coachman. And there was Germaine… she was above herself… what you might say too big for her boots. Germaine, she thought she should not be there… she should be a lady in her carriage… not a servant in such a house. Then there was Clos… who cleaned the boots and grates and whatever he was told to do. A happy boy he was… always a smile. Then there was Claudine, another such as Germaine… only not quite so haughty. Oh, I remember them well. There was one day when my Lord and Lady Hessenfield were away at Saint-Germain and Germaine dressed up in my lady’s clothes. We laughed and laughed. She did it all so well. Only trouble was she didn’t want to take those things off… she didn’t want to go back to work.’

‘And was I there at the time?’

‘You might have been with my lord and lady… or you might have been in the nursery.’

‘I don’t remember any of them except you, Jeanne.’

‘Mon Dieu! You were only a baby. I’d take you out sometimes… perhaps to the druggist to get something for my lady… something sweet-smelling to scent herself with… or to the glove-makers to collect gloves. Little errands like that. I’d orders never to venture with you into the forbidden places… never to the Pont-au-Bled or the Rue du Poirer. I remember one morning a man in a carriage drive by—some young lover chasing his mistress’s carriage—and you were spattered with mud. I had to get one of the brushers-down at the street corner to deal with you. I couldn’t take you back like that and I’d have to get that mud off you the minute it went on or it would eat into your clothes…’

‘When you talk, Jeanne, it brings it back to my mind.’

‘Well, there’s much that’s best forgot. We came through it all, didn’t we? I often wonder what became of Germaine. She had a lover… and she was proud of him. He lived somewhere on the Left Bank. I remember once she stayed out the night with him. Clos let her in in the early morning. Monsieur Bonton did not know. Do you remember Monsieur Bonton? He led us all, you might say. He was reckoned to be one of the best chefs in Paris and it was said that the King himself would have liked him for his kitchens. But that was just talk, maybe. But we all feared him. He had the power over us. One word from him and we could be sent off…’

‘Jeanne, it seems so strange to me that there should have been this woman… Aimée’s mother.’

‘He would have been finished with her by that time.’

‘No, I don’t think so. She had a letter from him which said he wanted Aimée taken care of. He must have been seeing her.’

‘Who can say with men? The best of them have their secrets and often that secret is a woman. It is just men, ma petite. We must never be surprised by what they do.’

I supposed she was right, but I found it difficult to accept.

With the coming of the New Year there was a great deal of talk about the Pretender. He was to be crowned at Scone and the Jacobites were persuading their women to give up their jewels to make a crown for him.

There were rumours—that was all. On the pamphlets which had been circulated James had been represented as godlike—tall, handsome, noble and full of vigour, determined to win what was rightfully his. It seemed that the reality was quite different. James had no charm of manner; he did not know how to attract the ordinary man; he had no conversation; moreover he was melancholy and seemed more ready to accept failure than inspire victory.

The truth was that he lacked the gift necessary for leading men. The Earl of Mar, who was the real spirit behind the rising, sought in vain to imbue him with the qualities essential for the success of the enterprise. It was hopeless, and even Mar had to realize that he was involved in a lost cause. The only people who were ready to support James were the Highlanders and it was soon apparent that the wise course of action was to retire while it was possible to do so and await the opportunity to rise again.

The loyal troops of King George were on the march and there was only one thing for James to do, which was to go back to France. At Montrose he and the Earl of Mar embarked on a vessel and sailed towards Norway, hugging the coast until they came to Gravelines, where they landed. That was the tenth of February. The enterprise was over.

‘Thank God,’ said Priscilla. ‘Let us hope they will never consider such a foolhardy expedition again.’

‘Well, it is all over now,’ echoed Damaris.

Alas, it was not over. There had been many captives and it was not to be expected that they would be dealt with lightly. Lessons had to be taught and learned.

Prisoners had been taken and many of them were being brought to London to be sentenced. I was overcome with anxiety.

Uncle Carl came home. He would stay a while, he said, now that the little trouble in the North was over.

‘Your friend Frenshaw is one of the prisoners,’ he told me. ‘He won’t escape execution. Hessenfield is in trouble too. By Gad, Clarissa, you were in the very heart of it up there.’

‘Thank God she got away,’ said Damaris.

I longed to know what had happened to Dickon. I must find out. I was anxious about my Uncle Hessenfield. I had grown fond of him.

Lance arrived. He said he had come to see me. He spent a long time talking to Uncle Carl, but it was Lance himself who broke the news to me.

He asked me to walk in the gardens with him. It was warmish for February and he remarked that there was a sniff of spring in the air.

I soon discovered why he had come. ‘Clarissa,’ he said, ‘this is going to be sad for you but I think you should know.’

I whispered: ‘It’s Dickon… isn’t it?’

‘He’s here… in London.’

I caught my breath. ‘Can I…’

He shook his head. ‘He’s one of the prisoners. He was taken with his uncle. There’s no hope for them. They’ll all be condemned as traitors.’

‘But he is only young and…’

‘He was old enough to fight against the King’s troops.’

I caught his arm and looked up at him pleadingly. ‘Something can be done… something must be done. Remember he saved my life.’

‘I do remember that. If I could do anything, I would. But they are doomed, all of them. People cannot commit treason against the King and be allowed to escape punishment.’

‘Dickon is different.’

‘I know Dickon is different for you, Clarissa. But not to His Majesty’s judges. I wondered whether to tell you that this is about to happen… or to say nothing.’

‘No, no. I want to know what happens to him. Lance, could you take me to him?’

‘That is quite impossible.’

‘Could you not do something?’

Lance bit his lip as though considering, and my hopes rose.

‘Lance,’ I cried, ‘you could do something. I know you could. You can do it… if anyone can.’

‘You have too high an opinion of my powers. There is nothing I can do. Your Uncle Carl is in a high position in the army…’

‘I will ask him,’ I cried. ‘And he is here now.’

‘Don’t let him think…’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It would be a good idea if you gave the impression that you wanted to save this young man’s life because he probably saved yours. If there was anything that your Uncle Carl would call “romantic nonsense” he would be less inclined to save Dickon. The last thing Carl or any of your family would want is an alliance with a disgraced Jacobite family. Perhaps it would be better if I spoke to him.’

‘No, no. I want to be there.’

‘Very well,’ said Lance, ‘but be careful.’

Uncle Carl listened thoughtfully.

‘You see, Uncle,’ I said, keeping a curb on my emotions, ‘he saved my life. I feel for that reason we ought to do something for him.’

‘It’s true, of course,’ Lance added his voice to mine. ‘Is there anything you could do?’

‘I should not think so for one moment,’ replied my uncle.

‘But,’ persisted Lance, ‘it is worth a try.’

‘I should have to go to London.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Lance.

I loved Lance in that moment. He had made my cause his. He understood how I felt and he was on my side. I felt optimistic because of his support.

‘We could leave tomorrow. They’re getting a fair trial.’

‘A word from you might go a long way. After all, there is his youth.’

‘I doubt that will be considered,’ said Uncle Carl. ‘Anyone who is old enough to fight is old enough to pay the penalty for treason against the King.’

‘Well, we can try,’ said Lance.

I could see that Uncle Carl thought it was a lost cause and although Dickon had saved me he was not eager to make the journey to London for his sake. But Lance persuaded him. There was something good and kind about Lance. I had seen it when he spoke up for the coach people who were about to be denied their dinner. He could put himself in other people’s place and see from their point of view. It was a rare gift, I imagined, and most people who had it were too selfish to do anything about it.

The next morning Lance and Uncle Carl left for London. I wished that I could have gone with them but Lance said they would be quicker without me and they must get there before the trial started.

I want to forget the days which followed. They were some of the most wretched I had known up to that time.

I was desperately afraid, for I had gathered from Lance’s attitude that there was very little hope. I waited every day for news. I could not eat; I could not sleep; and Damaris was worried about me.

‘My dear Clarissa,’ she said, ‘you must not fret so. It’s true he saved you but he must have gone back to fight with them…’

‘He believed it was right,’ I cried. ‘Don’t you know what it means to believe in something!’

There was no comfort anywhere and for a whole week I fretted.

‘You’ll be ill if you go on like this,’ said Damaris.

At last Lance came alone, for Uncle Carl was kept hard at work in London. I knew as soon as I saw Lance’s face that all was not well.

‘Lance… Lance…’ I cried flinging myself into his arms. He held me tightly for some seconds. Then I wrenched myself free and looked full at him.

‘Tell me,’ I begged. ‘Tell me the truth.’

‘He is not to be executed. We managed to avert that.’

‘Oh Lance… Lance… thank you… thank you.’

‘But…’ he hesitated, and I felt I was going mad with the suspense.

‘He is being transported to Virginia.’

‘Transported!’

Lance nodded. ‘He’ll be on his way now… to the colony there. Quite a number of them have gone. It was his youth… and the fact that Carl did what he could… that saved his life.’

‘But he has gone away… to Virginia. That’s miles and miles… over the sea.’

‘It’s a long way,’ agreed Lance.

‘And when…?’

‘For fourteen years.’

‘Fourteen years. I shall be an old woman then…’

‘Oh no… no…’ soothed Lance.

‘I fear I shall never see him again,’ I said quietly.

Lance looked at me sadly.

‘But we saved his life,’ he said.