The Adultress (19 page)

Sabrina was saying: “My parents lived at Enderby until they died.”

“Oh, well, you would know the house well.”

“We can’t resist coming to have a look at it.”

“Then you must come in and see what you think we have made of it.”

Sabrina was as excited as I was.

“It’s so kind of you,” she said.

“Not at all. We’re thinking of cutting down some of the trees to make the house lighter.”

“That was done once,” said Sabrina. “My mother did it when she went to live there.”

“They seem to grow so quickly here. Sometimes I feel that one morning I’ll wake up to find us completely shut in by them.”

She feels it, I thought. She feels the supernatural power of the house.

On the other hand she looked happy and proud as she opened the door and let us in.

Memories came rushing back. I fancied I could hear the sounds of the fair in the nearby fields. I felt sick with longing to be with Gerard again … to go back in time, to mount that staircase with him to the bedroom with the white and gold brocade curtains that had … for an instant looked red in the afternoon sunlight.

Sabrina was looking up at the minstrels’ gallery.

Our hostess laughed. “Oh, that’s the part that is said to be haunted. When we bought the house we were warned. I said I was not afraid of the ghost and would leave out a glass of wine for him … or her … if she would deign to visit me.”

“And you still feel the same now you live here?” asked Sabrina.

“I’ve never
seen
anything. Perhaps I’m not the type they like to visit.”

“I think a great deal depends on your attitude towards them,” I said. “When I was here last time I met someone who was staying here. …”

At that moment a man appeared on the staircase.

“We have visitors, Derek,” said our hostess. “They know Enderby well Isn’t that interesting? Come down and meet these ladies. This is my husband, Derek Forster. I am Isabel.”

He was as pleasantly welcoming at his wife.

“You’ll have a glass of wine,” she said. “I’ll send for it. Just a moment. Derek, take them into the winter parlor.”

He ushered us in and Sabrina said: “I’m Sabrina Frenshaw and this is my cousin’s daughter, Zipporah Ransome.”

“I’m delighted to meet you,” he said.

His wife returned to us. “Refreshment is coming,” she said. “Do sit down, mistress … ?” She paused and looked at Sabrina, who said: “Frenshaw.”

“Mistress Frenshaw spent her childhood in this house.”

“Then you must be …”

“Sabrina Granthorn, that was. The daughter of Jeremy Granthorn, who once owned the house.”

“Oh yes, we had heard. That’s fascinating. So you spent your childhood here.”

“Yes, and so did Zipporah’s mother, for she was brought up by my mother.”

“I daresay you know every nook and cranny.”

I was longing to find out what she knew of Gerard and said: “When I came here to see my uncle I met a friend of yours who was staying here.”

They looked at each other in a puzzled way.

“Gerard d’Aubigné.” I said.

They looked blank.

“You had lent him the house while you were away,” I went on.

“We’ve not been away. We’ve never lent anyone the house. …” Then Derek Forster smiled suddenly. “Well, we haven’t been here two years yet. When did you come?”

I felt a great relief. I had begun to feel that I had had some uncanny adventure and that Gerard was indeed someone risen from the grave.

“It was three years ago.”

“Well,” said Derek, “that explains it. Gerard d’Aubigné, you say? That sounds like a Frenchman.”

“Yes,” I said, “he was.”

“They were strange people, I believe. I never saw them. They left in rather a hurry. The sale was affected through some proxy. It was all rather mysterious. It was said that they had been working for the French and had to leave the country quickly. Your Frenchman seems to confirm the story.”

“I didn’t meet them myself,” I said. “I gathered they had lent the house to him for a short period.”

“Spies, I imagine. Well, there is nothing like that about us, is there, Derek?”

“No, I’m afraid we’re rather dull.”

“And you enjoy the house?” I asked

“It’s an interesting house,” said Derek.

“Now you mention it,” said Isabel, “I sometimes feel it’s not quite like other houses.”

“We got it at a very reasonable price,” said Derek. “Too good to miss, in fact. My brother said we should be fools not to take it. He was particularly anxious that we should because he’s going to start a practice in the town. He’s a doctor, you see.”

“It feels different,” said Sabrina. “I think the atmosphere is something to do with the people who live in a house.”

“That would seem inevitable, I suppose.”

The wine was excellent, so were the little wine cakes which went with it and we were both sorry when we had to rise to go.

“How long are you staying?” asked Isabel.

“Not long. A fortnight perhaps.”

Sabrina said: “Lord Eversleigh is getting so old now. I think he likes to see his relations.”

I wondered if there was any gossip in the village about the situation there and I was sure that if there was, a woman like Isabel Forster would hear of it.

“He has a housekeeper who seems to keep a tight hand on everything.”

Yes, I thought there might be a certain amount of gossip.

We said good-bye and were asked to call again if we could spare the time. The Forsters would be delighted to see us at any time.

We went back to Eversleigh feeling we had had an interesting morning.

I decided that I must call on Jethro and seek a time when I might find him alone. I imagined if anyone was in Uncle Carl’s confidence here, it would be Jethro. After all, he had used him once before.

At the midday meal Jessie had been more talkative. I was under the impression that she had felt her way carefully with Sabrina and was still a little in awe of her. She did not eat with us as she had on my previous visit but was always bustling round to make sure, she implied, that everything was to our taste. “You can’t trust these maids nowadays.” she was fond of saying.

We rose from the table. Sabrina was going to call on the Forsters that afternoon. I knew Sabrina well and I imagined she liked to think of the past even though it was unpleasant. I decided that I did not want to go to Enderby again. I knew I could find out nothing about Gerard and I felt no desire to go there and revive memories which caused me such longing.

Jessie was looking at me rather slyly as I brushed past her. “I reckon you’re missing your little girl. Mistress Ransome.” she said.

I nodded.

“Well, she’ll be all of … what is it? two years. You see. I remember. She must have been born about nine months after you left here. …” She gave me a little nudge.

I felt the color rush to my face. I looked at Sabrina. She had noticed nothing. I turned back to Jessie and said: “Well. I shall soon be back with her.”

And went out. The remark had shaken me. What did Jessie mean by it? When I had turned to look at her her expression had been one of bland innocence. But the nudge … Well, nudging was a habit with her.

Was I oversensitive? I was a married woman. It was to be expected that I should have a child and if I did so after a visit, even though she had been careful enough to mention the time lapse, it was not so very significant.

I went out to find Jethro and I did. He was in his cottage.

“Ah.” he said. “I thought maybe you’d be calling on me sometime. Mistress Zipporah.”

“I had to talk to you. Jethro. Tell me. how is everything at the Court?”

“It’s all as it should be, it seems. His lordship is happy. Jessie gives herself airs and still behaves as though she’s the mistress of the house—which in a way she is. there being no mistress there … mistress of the staff, you might say—but she does take her rule on the other side of the screens, if you get my meaning.”

“I thought she was a little more respectful.”

“Oh yes, she is that. And she takes great care of his lordship.”

“I have seen that and I don’t think it is just for our benefit. She is really anxious to keep him alive.”

“She changed after you went, Mistress Zipporah. I don’t know what you did … but you did something.”

“I just pointed out that the easy life was hers only as long as Lord Eversleigh was alive to provide it.”

Jethro’s brown old face wrinkled up into a grin.

“Well, it did the trick and everyone seems happy.”

I wondered if Jessie was, for she had had grandiose schemes for getting her hands on Eversleigh.

I said: “And the afternoon visits to Amos Carew, do they still continue?”

“They do. Mistress Zipporah.”

“Jethro,” I said, “I shall have to go soon. Can you keep me informed?”

Jethro looked embarrassed and I realized I had been tactless. Of course, he couldn’t read or write.

I went on: “Perhaps you could send a messenger to me. … Is there anyone … ?”

He looked dubious and I went on: “It would only be in an emergency of course.”

“I’d do my best. Mistress Zipporah, but all is well now and has been since you came, before which is some time now.”

I had to leave it at that.

I came away thoughtfully from Jethro’s cottage and as I did not feel like returning to the house I started to walk in the opposite direction.

I was deep in thought. I was visualizing myself living here with Jean-Louis and meanwhile Dickon would be at Clavering. Life would be so different. I should have to get rid of Jessie quickly and I wondered what her reaction would be. I had not liked her remark about Lottie’s birth nor the suggestive and significant nudge which had accompanied it.

So deep in thought was I that I had not noticed that the sky had darkened; I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance and thought I should have to hurry back if I was to reach the house before the storm broke.

I was near one of the farms which was a quarter of a mile from Eversleigh when the rain started to come down in torrents. There were patches of blue sky on the horizon so I guessed that it was only a passing storm. I was not far from a barn and I sprinted across, opened the door and went in. It would only be for five minutes or so, I was sure.

It was dark in the barn after coming from the light and my eyes took a few seconds to adjust.

Then I saw that I was not alone.

They were lying in the hay … two people. I tried not to look at them for they were in a state of disarray and were in such a close embrace that at first I had thought it was one person who lay there.

I felt my heart begin to beat as the realization came to me that the two people lying there were Dickon and Evalina.

I wanted to turn and run but I felt as though my feet had taken root.

I stammered: “Dickon … Evalina …”

Dickon was looking at me; he was still holding Evalina. She had turned her face toward me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” cried Evalina. “What about yourself, eh? Some people shouldn’t condemn others for what they do themselves.”

I felt sick. I turned and ran out into the blinding rain.

My boots were sodden; my clothes saturated and my hair hung damply round my face as I stepped into the hall.

Jessie was there talking to Sabrina.

“My goodness,” cried Jessie. “You’re wet through.”

“Why … Zipporah,” said Sabrina, “you shouldn’t have come through that rain.”

“You should have stood up … and waited,” said Jessie. “Get them wet things off. Rub yourself down with a towel. Would you like a cup of hot soup?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It was foolish of me.”

I thought as I went upstairs: I want nothing but to get away from this house.

I had discarded my wet things and put on dry ones. I went along to Sabrina’s room.

I said to her vehemently: “I want to go home … soon.”

“Well,” she said, “perhaps we should start making plans. Dickon won’t like it. He’s happy here.”

Dickon. I thought: Don’t talk to me of Dickon! I could not shut out the memory of his face as he lay there in the barn looking at me … insolently.

She would tell him. He would know my secret. It must have been Evalina who had listened outside my door.

What did she know? What had she told Dickon? Most assuredly she would have told him of her suspicions.

I began to feel afraid as I had not before.

I saw her a few hours later. She was in the hall with her mother.

She looked at me defiantly, as though to say,
Tell on me and I’ll tell on you.

It was blackmail. I remembered that other occasion when she had bought my silence with the key of my door.

I wanted to get away from this house. It was evil, I knew it.

She was smiling at me blandly.

“You got very wet, Mistress Ransome,” she said. “Mother told me that you came in really soaked. Did you change? You ought to. You don’t want to catch a cold, do you?”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said.

She gave me an innocent smile.

Two days later we left Eversleigh. Sabrina, I think, was happy to go, though Dickon was rather sullen.

“I believe you’ve really fallen in love with the place,” said his mother fondly.

“I like it,” answered Dickon. “I like it a lot.”

And all the way home I was wondering what Evalina had said to him.

M
ORE THAN A YEAR
had passed since our return from Eversleigh. It had been an eventful time as far as the country was concerned for George the Second died and his grandson ascended the throne. The third George was a youth of twenty-two and very much under the influence of his mother and Lord Bute, the man who was said to be her lover and that, most people said, augured no good for England.

In the country I was too immersed in my own private affairs to think much about which George ruled us—second or third, it seemed unimportant to me.

During the year I had not visited Eversleigh. Sometimes I felt I should go but I could never bring myself to it. The thought of facing Jessie and Evalina repelled me so strongly that I made excuse after excuse to myself not to go. There was no need, I would say. Uncle Carl had written—there were about four letters over the year—and he was well and happy and very well cared for. These words he underlined. Life was as good as it could be for an old man who could do little but sit in his chair or lie in his bed and review the days of glory—or folly, whichever way one looked at it.