The adulteress (12 page)

He could turn out both Jessie and Amos Carew if he wanted to. The agent could be replaced; and as for Jessie, well, I am sure it would not be difficult to find a good hardworking housekeeper who would run the house and servants as it used to be in the days of my great-grandparents.

While I was musing thus the door opened and a man came out.

He looked surprised to see me and I said quickly: "I wondered if Monsieur Gerard d'Aubigne was at home."

He said he would inquire and, taking me into the hall, went away.

Enderby certainly had what people called atmosphere. One was aware of it on taking the first step inside the place. The great hall with its vaulted ceiling and minstrels' gallery at one end and the screens to the kitchen at the other seemed full of shadows. I remembered that it had always looked like that. It was as though there were ghosts waiting to spring out. One was aware of an impending sense of doom in the house. Happiness never stayed there long, I had heard someone say. I knew my mother's childhood had not been an unhappy one; but that seemed to be the only period when people seemed to live normal lives within those walls.

While I brooded thus Gerard came down the stairs. He ran when he saw me and came toward me, his hands outstretched. He took mine and kissed first one then the other.

"I was expecting you," he said.

"Expecting me?"

"Yes, you wanted to make sure, didn't you? You were tor-

merited with doubts. Should you have trusted me with such a mission? Oh . . . Zipporah, have I not shown you that I will serve you with my life if need be?"

"How you do love to make everything dramatic. Did you deliver the will?"

"To Mr. Rosen senior himself. He studied it, approved and has it in his safekeeping."

"Oh . . . thank you."

He smiled at me quizzically. "You can trust me, you know."

"I know it really. I am just a little anxious. I know we were laughing about it all . . . but I've suddenly felt that it is not such a laughing matter."

"You will have some refreshment?"

"No. I have just had supper. I must get back now."

"Oh, stay awhile." He had taken my hand and was drawing me toward him.

I felt the house beckoning me . . . almost as though it were waiting, drawing me in . . . and I was afraid. All I had ever heard about Enderby seemed to be warning me. Was it a premonition? Perhaps.

"No," I said firmly. "I just wanted to make sure nothing had gone wrong."

He looked disappointed but resigned. "I will walk back with you," he said.

We came out of the house together and I could not suppress a feeling of relief as we walked away from it.

It was growing dark now. It reminded me of the first time we had met. We passed the haunted patch and he pressed my arm.

"A wonderful moment," he said. "That first encounter of ours."

"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done for me.

"There is no need for thanks. I would willingly do anything you asked me."

"That is being a little rash. How do you know what I might ask?"

"The more difficult the request the more I should enjoy it."

"I suppose at the French court you are well versed in extravagant conversation."

"Perhaps, but what I say to you, I mean."

"Well, I am grateful. And I think that now my mission is accomplished I should go home."

"Please don't say that," he said.

"I must go."

"Not yet. I have a feeling that this matter is not yet completed."

"Do you think my uncle is ... in danger?"

"It has occurred to me. Here is a rapacious woman .. . she thinks she will inherit a big estate. The only thing between her and it is that frail old man in his bed. Think of the temptation. Does Jessie seem the sort of woman who would resist it?"

"I don't know. She seemed rather fond of him."

"She has her lover. ... Do you think they plan to share Eversleigh between them?"

"I have been thinking that I should be happier if Jessie knew about that will and that whatever she got him to sign will be useless. If she knew this she would certainly not wish to 'shorten his life,' as Mr. Rosen put it. She would keep him alive so that she could go on enjoying what comforts she has now and perhaps feathering her nest."

"That sounds reasonable to me. I think Lord Eversleigh is safe while you are there. She would attempt nothing which you might see. Therefore, you must stay. Your mission is not yet accomplished."

"Do you think I could tell Uncle Carl that he must let Jessie know there is a will with the solicitor?"

"I think so ... in time. Not just yet. Let him get over all the excitement of today. Do you agree?"

"Perhaps you are right. I am sorry to have involved you in this."

"It has added spice to my visit, I do assure you."

We had come into the shrubbery.

"Good night," I said.

He took my hand and held it for a long time. He was smiling at me in a certain way and I had a great desire to stay there with him.

I should have been warned.

As I went into the house I saw Evalina. She ran past me and up the stairs. At the top she turned back and looked at me almost maliciously.

I thought: That girl is everywhere.

And I went to my room. I knew as soon as one instinctively

does that certain things were not quite in the place in which one has left them. I hurriedly went to my cupboard. Now I was sure of it.

I turned the key in the lock of my door and thoughtfully prepared for bed.

Evalina had reported what she had seen and obviously suspicions had been aroused. I was more thankful than ever that Gerard had taken the will to Rosen. If I had kept it it would certainly have been discovered by whoever had searched my room.

That night I had a nightmare. I was in Enderby Hall and suddenly ghosts from the past rose up and came toward me. I put out my hands to hold them off but they came nearer and nearer. And among them was Gerard. . . . There was earth on his clothes and his face was deathly white. He was one of them . . . one of those ghosts from the past.

He had something in his hand. It was a scroll of paper. Uncle Carl's will!

And he began to laugh . . . evilly . . . and all the time his luminous eyes were fixed on me.

Then someone was calling to me. "Danger. . . . Get away while there is time."

I woke up with a terrible start. It had all seemed so real.

I lay staring into the darkness. Who was Gerard? I asked. What did I know of him? When I looked back over the last days my conduct seemed inexplicable. I had formed a friendship with this stranger whom I had known for a few hours when I told him the secrets of my family; I had entrusted him with the will.

I must be losing my senses. The old Zipporah looking accusingly at my new self who had taken on this task and had brought in a stranger to help. What could I have done? I could have written home, I could have told them of the situation here, asked advice. If Jean-Louis was not fit to come, Sabrina could.

That was what the old Zipporah would have done. The new one seemed to have come into being since I had strayed out on that night and Gerard d'Aubigne had risen like a ghost from the haunted ground.

I had made up my mind. Tomorrow I would call in at Rosen, Stead and Rosen and assure myself that the will had indeed been deposited.

This censorious mood directed against my new self persisted during the morning. I did not get a chance to convey anything to my uncle at the eleven o'clock session. Jessie was watching us intently the whole time, but in the afternoon I walked into the town.

Mr. Rosen greeted me with pleasure and I immediately asked him if Monsieur Gerard d'Aubigne had delivered the will yesterday afternoon.

"Indeed yes," he said. "A charming and most helpful gentleman. Now we need have no qualms. Everything is perfectly in order."

I felt ashamed of myself for distrusting Gerard.

I felt worse still when I passed the inn and saw the carriage there.

I was walking hurriedly along the road when I heard it clop-ping after me.

He pulled up and smiled at me rather roguishly.

"You could have trusted me," he said.

I decided that I would be perfectly frank with him and not pretend that I had gone into the town for some other purpose. "I had to make sure," I said.

"Of course."

He helped me into the carriage.

"And now," he said, "you are satisfied."

"I am, and I do thank you most sincerely for your help."

He smiled as we gamboled along.

It was the day of the fair. I had been seeing Gerard every day. I had felt I had to make some amends for my lack of trust in him and from then on our friendship seemed to grow. I think he must have known that I suffered some qualms of uneasiness, wondering whether it was right for a married woman to see so much of a man who was not her husband. He stressed that we were, as he put it, birds of passage, implying that our association was an interlude in our lives. Very soon we should have to go our separate ways but there was no reason why we should not take with us pleasant memories of our meetings.

I think this acted as a sort of palliative. I would remind myself of it on those occasions when quite suddenly the thought would come to me that my friendship with this man was becoming too deep, too involved and was different from anything that had ever happened to me before.

And so to the day of the fair.

I think the whole of the community must have gone. Jessie went off with Amos Carew. Uncle Carl insisted. He was tired, he said, and wanted to rest. Most of the servants had gone and after the midday meal all those who were not already at the fair left the house.

It was, Jessie had explained to me, the event of the year—or the half year, as it came twice—and everybody had to make the most of it. "You'll be looking in, I daresay," she said to me.

I said that I would.

I had arranged to meet Gerard. He had said nothing about the fair but I figured he would like to have a look at it.

He met me just beyond the shrubbery and our steps led up past Enderby.

He said: "I think everyone from the house has gone to the fair today. It seems so different without them. I'd like to show you the house. Have you ever gone through it?"

"No. I've heard about it but it was sold before I was born. My mother lived there as a girl but her aunt, who had brought her up, died and her husband was heartbroken. He was drowned and I don't think anyone was sure whether it was suicide or an accident. Neither my mother nor her cousin Sabrina, who lives with her, ever wants to talk about it very much."

"Come and take a look," he said.

"I thought you would want to go to the fair."

"I'd rather show you the house. You ought to see it and now that there is no one here there is an opportunity. Besides, it seems different when it's empty. It has a great deal of atmosphere."

He had taken my arm and was drawing me toward the house. I was reminded of my dream when I had fancied something had been warning me. I knew that when I had dreamed that I had imagined I was in that house, but I felt myself drawn on by an irresistible impulse and yet I was aware of another part of myself warning me not to enter that house of ill omen.

He had opened the door and we stood in the hall. It had a vaulted ceiling and fine paneling. I had seen many halls like it and yet there were shadows here. In the stillness I felt my heart start to beat so fast that I could almost hear it. He put an arm around me. I drew back and he said: "You

looked . . . vulnerable ... as though you need protection."

I laughed but it sounded hollow. "I am really quite well able to look after myself."

"I know it." He was looking at me intently. "You would never do what you did not want to."

My eyes had strayed to the minstrels' gallery.

"Yes," he said, "that's one of the haunted spots. There are many of them. I've discovered that the servants won't go into the gallery alone. Come, Zipporah, let us defy the ghosts."

He took my hand and we mounted the stairs.

There was a carved door. It creaked as he opened it.

"Come," he whispered and I stepped with him into the gallery.

"It's colder up here."

"That's the spirit," he said. "The ghosts come from the dead."

He took my chin in his hands and looked into my face.

"You're a tiny bit scared," he said. "Oh yes, you are, my practical commonsensical Zipporah. Confess it, you are a little affected by Enderby."

"Are you?" I asked.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "I like it. It's no ordinary house, but who wants an ordinary house? When I am here I say to myself: Is it true? Do the spirits of those long dead sometimes return to haunt the scenes of their sins ... or their triumphs? Who can be sure? No one can. That's the exciting thing about it. It's mystery . . . wrapped in mystery, and one is never sure whether one is going to find the answer. Don't you find that fascinating?"

"Yes, of course."

We stood at the rail looking down at the hall. "It's full of shadows," he said. "Why?"

"Because of the trees and shrubs which grow too close and too high. Cut them down and have lawns all about the house and the light would be let in."

"Perhaps the ghosts wouldn't like it. Come on. Let me show you the rest of the house."

"Where are the people who live here?"

"They are away. It is lent to me in their absence."

"It was very convenient for you."

"Oh very. I couldn't have found a more pleasant spot."

"But it is so far away from London."

"Well, it has its little town wherein the good firm of Rosen, Stead and Rosen are housed."

"But for a man of affairs . . ."

"This suits my affairs very well. I am near the sea . . . That is good, but best of all I am close to Eversleigh Court and because of that I met you, Zipporah."

I sat quickly: "I think I should be returning home to Clav-ering soon. They will be missing me and I have done what I came to do."

"Don't talk of that now. Live in the present. It's good to live in the present. The past is usually full of regrets. Never feel regrets, Zipporah. They change nothing. As for the future, that is the unknown. It is the present that has to be lived and living is the whole meaning of existence."