The adulteress (23 page)

"Yes."

"Please, Sabrina, go there . . . and take Dickon with you. Please. He won't need any persuading. He loves to travel. Jean-Louis, I am right, aren't I?"

"Zipporah is right," said Jean-Louis. "She has Hetty now under her care. The poor girl was going to kill herself."

"Oh no!" murmured my mother.

"Does James know?" asked Sabrina.

"Yes, but he doesn't know who seduced her . . . raped might be a better word."

"No!"

"Oh, please, this is not a time to pick and choose our words to make them sound nicer. Jean-Louis knows what happened. He has seen James with me. Dickon is old for his years. He is capable of fathering a child; I think he's in danger. Do get him away!"

My mother was trembling. She said: "Yes, Sabrina, we must. I know it's not really true but if he is suspected."

They knew in their hearts that it was true. Perhaps they knew too that he had used Hetty to take his revenge on James.

Sabrina said: "I could leave in two days. I know he wants to come with me."

"Two days," I said. "But not longer, please. James mustn't know until you are out of the way."

Jean-Louis and I went home feeling exhausted. Hetty was still sleeping peacefully. I should be with her when she awoke; and I was going to keep my eyes on her for a while.

We did not see James. He was grappling with himself, I imagined. I was glad because I wanted Dickon out of the way before we met just in case we should let the truth escape.

Two days later I went over to Clavering Hall. Sabrina and Dickon had left for Bath. They planned to be away for two weeks.

I felt immensely relieved; and so did Jean-Louis.

Poor Hetty looked like a wraith. I told the servants that she had been very ill and I kept her alone in her room. I was with her a great deal. Sometimes she would not speak for a long time and when she did the confidences poured out. Dickon had terrified her. She had seen him assessing her even before the Harvest Home. She did not know how she could have let herself be taken into the shrubbery. She had been mildly enjoying the Harvest Home but regretting James's absence when he had come up with the punch and forced it on her. Then he brought more for her. She had refused it and he had said "Don't be a simple country girl," or something like that, and foolishly she had taken the punch. She had been dizzy and he had said the fresh air would do her good and had taken her out. Then they were in the shrubbery and she grew more and more dizzy and could not stand up. Then ... it happened.

"Oh, I was such a fool," she cried. "I should have known. I thought I was wiser than the country girls . . . but I was not. And then he said that he would tell Lady Clavering that I had asked him to take me to the shrubbery. . . . She would have believed him. He said he would let everyone know what I was like. 'Anybody's for the asking,' he said. Those were his words. And so I must go with him again. It was only when I told him that I was with child that he left me alone. . . ."

"There is evil in him," I said. "But it's over. Nothing can alter what is done. We have to go on from there."

"What can I do?"

"My husband and I will arrange something. We'll send you

away from here. You can have the baby quietly . . . and then we'll think again."

"I don't know what I should do without you."

I said: "Something will be arranged. You have to think of the child. All this grieving is bad for it. You will love it when it comes. People always do."

"But a child conceived in such a way," she said. "His child."

"The child will be innocent enough. But, Hetty, you must stop all this wild fretting. I tell you we will take care of you."

She fell into weeping then and she said such things of me which made me ashamed. She would not believe that I was not a saint from heaven, and she brought home to me the extent of my own deceit and it was all fresh in my mind again.

James came over. I saw him arrive and ran to meet him.

"I can't stay forever," he said. "Where's Hetty?"

"She's here. Poor girl, she's in a sad way. I worry about her a good deal."

"Thank you for taking care of her . . . you and Jean-Louis."

"Of course we will take care of her."

"You know who it was, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Please tell me, Zipporah."

"James, I'm fond of you. We're both fond of you . . . and of Hetty. Ths is terrible. Please, please don't make it worse. Hetty needs care, tenderness . . . she's bruised and wounded. Don't you understand?"

"I do . . . and I want to take care of her."

"Oh, James . . . that makes me so happy."

"Bless you, Zipporah. I've grappled with myself. I was planning to marry Hetty."

"I know. You love each other."

"How could she . . . ?"

"She couldn't help it, James. She was half intoxicated . . . she couldn't hold him off. He overpowered her."

"Who ... who ... ?"

I said: "It was Dickon."

I saw his teeth clench and his face whiten. I was so thankful that Dickon was far away.

He turned as though to stride out of the house. "You won't find him," I said. "He and his mother have gone away. They'll be away some weeks."

"So he's run away because . . ."

"No. He didn't know that Hetty tried to kill herself."

He winced. "Why didn't she come to me?"

"How could she come to you? She thought you would never want to see her again."

He looked infinitely sad and I went on: "Oh, James, you do . . . don't you? You do."

He nodded without a word. Then I put my arms round him and held him tightly to me for a moment.

"Oh, James," I said, "please help me to heal this poor broken child."

"I love her, Zipporah," he said. "I love her."

"I know, James. And how deep is that love? Is it big enough, strong enough ... do you think?"

"I know it is."

"James," I said, "will you go to her now? Will you speak to her? Will you tell her that you love her, that you will look after her . . . that you understand? That's the most important of all. To understand. It was no fault of her. ... If you had been there it could not have happened. Oh, James, please, please."

"Where is she?"he said.

"In her room upstairs."

"I'll go to her," he said, "and, Zipporah, bless you."

James was going to marry Hetty. Jean-Louis and I were delighted, but then came the blow.

It would be quite impossible for them to remain at Claver-ing. James could never trust himself near Dickon. Hetty never wanted to see him again. James's uncle had recently died—it was his reason for not being at the Harvest Home—and his cousin wanted him to go in with him on the farm.

How we should manage without James was a great problem. We could get another agent, it was true, but James had been especially good and in view of Jean-Louis's weakness we needed someone who was more than ordinarily good.

In time we found Tim Parker, who seemed to be efficient and keen, but we missed James in so many ways. Our consolation was that he and Hetty were settling down at the farm.

Three months after they left we heard that Hetty had had a miscarriage and three months after that that she was pregnant again.

I thought the child's death was not such a tragedy after all because it would have been a constant reminder to them all through their lives. Now they had the opportunity to start afresh and I believe James, being the sensible young man he was, took it wholeheartedly and Hetty was grateful for all he had done for her.

When Dickon and Sabrina returned from Bath, which Dickon had thoroughly enjoyed, he took extra care with his clothes and turned into a dandy.

I hated him and in my hatred there was an element of fear. He was an evil influence on our lives, I was sure. My mother and Sabrina seemed to dote on him more than ever. He still professed a great interest in the estate and became quite friendly with Tim Parker. He was pleased that he had driven James away. He knew why, of course, and was secretly amused when he heard that James and Hetty were married. I think he thought he had shown James that no one could displease him and not expect to pay for it.

We had just had the news that Hetty's son was born. We were settling down as well as could be hoped. Tim Parker was a good enough man so it had worked out not too unsatisfactorily. Then one day when I was in my stillroom one of the maids came to tell me that there was a young man below to see me.

I said he should be brought into the hall and I would come down.

He was not much more than a boy, and I thought I had seen him before.

Rather awkwardly he pulled his forelock and said: "Me grandad sent me. I've rid all the way from Eversleigh."

"Your grandad?"

"Jethro, mistress."

"Yes, yes."

"He wants me to tell you, mistress, that he thinks you should come. There's something going on up there that ought to be looked into."

The Conspiracy

I sent Jethro's grandson back with messages for Jethro and Uncle Carl. I should be coming to see him and setting out before the end of the week.

Jean-Louis wanted to come with me but that would not be easy. Tim Parker was understandably not yet so conversant with the management of the estate that he could be left alone; also we both knew that Jean-Louis would find the journey exhausting and that this would be an anxiety for me.

What of Sabrina or my mother? wondered Jean-Louis. But since Hetty's affair my relationship with them had undergone a change. They couldn't quite forget my animosity toward Dickon and took it as a sort of affront to themselves. Perhaps the real reason was that I was afraid of what Jessie or Evalina would hint. In any case I knew that I had to go and I wanted to go alone.

So after some argument with Jean-Louis, who was fearful of my traveling alone, it was agreed that I should take six grooms with me, as I had on the first occasion, with an extra one to look after the saddle horse.

It was spring again. The days were long and we made good progress and it was an early afternoon when we arrived at Eversleigh. Jessie was waiting for us. She greeted me with something like affection and relief, and she looked more discreetly dressed than I had ever seen her. Her gown was a pale gray, rather simple, and her complexion was only very lightly touched up.

"I am so glad that you have come. I have been so worried. I told him that we should let you know but when he was able to understand he was rather distressed. He didn't want to upset you. I did not know what to do but when you sent your letter saying that you was coming I was so pleased. He couldn't read it himself. He's not fit. You'll see. You must be tired after the journey. Would you like to rest first . . . ?"

"No," I said. "First I want to hear about him and see him."

"I am not sure when you can see him. It will depend on the doctor."

"The doctor is here?"

"He wouldn't have the local man. He sent for his own doctor. It's lucky for us that Dr. Cabel, having retired from practice, was able to stay here. He's here now."

"What happened?"

"It was some sort of seizure. I thought it was the end. Fortunately Dr. Cabel was already here. You see, he'd been ailing before. I suppose he was working up for this and I had said we must call in the doctor. He wouldn't have it, and at last he agreed to my sending for his old friend Dr. Cabel. They had been friends for years and Dr. Cabel had looked after him before. Well, he came, and he stayed, expecting trouble, so he was here when Lordy had his seizure. He's been here ever since."

"I'd better go and see my uncle."

"He must not be disturbed while he's sleeping. Well, he's sleeping most of the time, but he mustn't be excited. Do you mind waiting until the doctor comes in? He's just taking a little exercise at the moment. As soon as he comes in I'll tell him you're here. Let me take you to your room so that you can wash and change if you want to. Then we can talk about it . . . and I daresay Dr. Cabel will allow you to go in for a few moments."

"My uncle sounds very ill."

"My dear." She gave me a little push, a reminder of the old days. "I thought it was the end. I did really. But let me take you to your room. It's the same one. That's all right, is it? And when you've washed the journey off you and had a bite to eat you'll feel rested."

It sounded reasonable enough but Jethro's message had been that something strange was going on. I decided to see him at the earliest possible moment.

I went to my room, washed and changed from my riding habit into a dark blue gown. Then I went down to the winter parlor, where some wine and cakes were on the table.

"I don't know how hungry you are," said Jessie, "but I thought you'd better have a stopgap between now and supper."

"I'm not hungry at all. What I want is to hear about Lord Eversleigh."

"You shall see him as soon as Dr. Cabel comes in. He can tell you more than I."

"How long has Lord Eversleigh been ill?"

"It's nigh on two months since the seizure."

"All that time! I wish I'd known."

"I wanted to tell you. . . ." She lowered her eyes and I wanted to shout at her: Then why didn't you? but I said nothing and waited.

Her eyes were on one of the cakes. She picked it up almost absentmindedly and started to eat it.

I said: "It is a big responsibility for you."

She stopped chewing and raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Lord bless you," she said, "you've said a mouthful. Still, I'm fond of him and want to give him my best. He's been good to me. It's the least I can do."

I felt nauseated and, as always in the company of this woman, a sense of something sinister which was all the more alarming because it was dressed up to look like normality.

I rose. I couldn't sit there any longer and I had no appetite for the wine and cakes to which she had referred as a stopgap.

"I'll walk round the garden," I said. "I feel the need to stretch my legs. I'll look forward to seeing Dr. Cabel as soon as he returns."

"He'll be wanting to see you."

I went straight out to the garden. I walked round awhile and then slipped through the shrubbery.