The Adultress (21 page)

Dickon appeared flushed and I was struck afresh by his handsome looks. He seemed to have grown a little every time I saw him.

He sat down unceremoniously and said: “Do you know what Hassock is doing? He’s taken down the fence of that no-man’s-land strip and is obviously intending to use it.”

“That’s right,” said James. “He’s going to extend his wheat field.”

“But it’s not his.”

“He’s been given permission,” said James.

“Who gave him permission?”

“I did,” answered James.

“But who said you might?” Dickon’s voice was cold and haughty.

Jean-Louis said quickly: “I did. James and I discussed it and decided it was foolish to let the land lie idle and Hassock was the one to make the best use of it.”

“I don’t agree,” said Dickon.

“
You
don’t agree,” cried James. He was less calm than Jean-Louis, and Dickon’s behavior was certainly provoking.

“No,” retorted Dickon, “I don’t. Burrows has as much right to that land as Hassock. I’ve told him so.”

“Dickon,” said Jean-Louis, “I know how much you care about the estate, and you have been very helpful, but James and I must decide on these matters. It is our job to run the estate profitably.”

“Hassock must be told to stop what he is doing immediately. James, you should tell him that before he goes too far.”

“The matter has been decided,” said James. “If Burrows is dissatisfied he had better come here to discuss it with Jean-Louis and me. There has been too much trouble in the past over that strip of land. It is very insignificant in any case.”

“I have told Burrows that he shall have it since Hassock has taken it into his head to filch it.”

“Filch it!” I could see that James’s temper was rising. “This is absurd. You have been helping us on the estate for a few months and you think that you are fit to manage it … going over our heads. We have had years of experience in these matters.”

Dickon stood up. “We shall see,” he said.

When he had left we looked at each other in amazement.

I said: “He has gone to my mother.”

“Lady Clavering will understand that we are managing the estate,” said James.

“I hope so. But she is inclined to indulge Dickon.”

James shook his head. “She will see the sense of this.”

“Shall I go over to see her this afternoon?” I asked.

“I’ll come with you,” said Jean-Louis.

My mother was delighted to see us as always and asked questions about Lottie, whom she hadn’t seen for two whole days, which seemed a long time to her.

“We’ve come to talk business,” I told her. “James is rather put out.”

“Oh yes … Dickon was saying that there had been a disagreement about that land. He’s given it to Burrows.”

“No,” I put in. “Jean-Louis and James had decided that Hassock should have it.”

“And he has already been given permission to use it,” added Jean-Louis.

“Oh, dear,” said my mother, “how tiresome these people are! Your father always said, Zipporah, that the land was almost useless.”

“Well, Hassock can make good use of it,” said Jean-Louis.

“And,” I added, “he has already been given permission to have it.”

“Oh, but Dickon has promised it to Burrows.”

“Mother,” I said, “Dickon has no right to promise anything. Just because he has been allowed to have a little insight into the way the estate is run he thinks it belongs to him. It’s yours, and Jean-Louis and James manage it. How can they do that successfully if this …
boy
comes in and tells them what to do.”

“Don’t let him hear you call him a boy,” said my mother.

“What else is he? Please be sensible. I know how you dote on him but …”

She looked as though she were going to burst into tears. I think she sensed some reproach in my words implying that she cared for this son of the man she had once loved more than for her own daughter.

I went to her quickly and put my arm about her. “Mother dear, you do see that Jean-Louis and James must have a free hand. I know the estate is yours … but you know little of it. You can’t undermine the manager’s standing with the tenants, otherwise there would be chaos. And just because this pampered boy suddenly takes an interest and thinks he can have his own way you cannot give in to him. I think we should probably lose James if you did.”

“We can’t afford to lose James,” said Jean-Louis. “I need him now.”

He looked sad and I felt fresh anger against Dickon for creating this absurd situation.

My mother looked apologetically at us both and said: “It was so wonderful to see him … enthusiastic … and caring about it all.”

“It doesn’t mean he can run it, mother.” I said. “You can’t seriously be thinking of letting him have his own way.”

She hesitated and I cried out: “You are. Then I think you had better hand over the management to Dickon. James will resign and so perhaps will Jean-Louis.”

“Zipporah. How can you say that? You and Jean-Louis are my own … my daughter and my son. …”

“But you will still have Dickon, you know,” I said angrily. For I realized now that I hated Dickon, and because my hatred was tinged with a certain emotion—not exactly fear but uneasiness—I was unusually vehement.

My mother was at heart a very sensible woman and it was only when her emotions were deeply involved that she would behave without good sense.

She saw in that moment the absurdity of the situation and must have realized that she was jeopardizing the love of her own daughter for the sake of Sabrina’s son.

She said quietly: “Of course—Jean-Louis and James know best. Poor Dickon, he will be very disappointed. It is such a pity that this should have happened just when he is getting so excited about the place.”

We had won the battle. Hassock would continue preparing the land. Burrows would have to accept that and realize that Dickon was not in a position to make promises which he had no power to keep.

It was the next day that Dickon came over when we were at the table. I guessed that he had just heard of the decision, for I could imagine my mother’s putting off telling him for as long as she could.

He came in glaring at us. His glance was cold but I could see the anger seething beneath it.

“So,” he said looking at James, “you have been to Lady Clavering.”

“James did not,” I said. “Jean-Louis and I saw her.”

“And you have persuaded her to go against me.”

“It’s not against you. Dickon,” said Jean-Louis. “It’s a matter of what we consider best for the estate.”

“What! That strip of land! It’s been idle for years and years! What effect does that have on the estate?”

“Hassock asked for it,” said Jean-Louis, “and James and I decided he should have it. That could not be rescinded.”

“Why not? Burrows has just as much right.”

“We decided that Hassock should have it. He asked for it first. Burrows did not,” said Jean-Louis.

“Hassock! Yes, of course!” Dickon was glaring at James. “You have a special fancy for Hassock … the girl. …”

James stood up and said: “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you can’t refuse dear little Hetty anything, can you, and if she says papa wants that bit of land, papa has to have it.”

“Hetty Hassock has nothing to do with this,” said James. “Please do not bring her into it.”

“It seems to me she is there … say what you will. I’ve eyes in my head, you know. I don’t go around blind.”

Jean-Louis said sternly: “You must behave properly in this house, Dickon, or I shall ask you to leave.”

Dickon bowed ironically: “I do not exactly yearn to stay,” he said. “But let me tell you this, James Fenton, I shall not forget this insult.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dickon,” I burst out. “You haven’t been insulted. You’ve probably been sympathetic to Burrows but he doesn’t expect a boy like you to make important decisions on the estate.”

His glance swept over me fleetingly. He looked for a few seconds at James and that look of cold implacable hatred in his eyes made me very uneasy.

He turned and went.

Jean-Louis shook his head. “That boy should be sent away to school,” he said.

After the haymaking Lottie’s nanny developed a bad cold which turned to bronchitis. We missed her very much because she was an extremely efficient young woman. I did not like to leave Lottie to the servants and took over the care of her myself.

It was James who suggested that I should have some temporary help. I soon understood why.

“Hetty Hassock would like to come over and give you a hand with Lottie,” he said. “I think you would find her very useful.”

I was amused because I knew now that James was interested in Hetty. Jean-Louis and I had discussed the matter often. We were both very fond of James; he was no ordinary agent for not only did he take a keen interest in the estate, the management of which he did extremely well, but he was an amusing companion; meal times were enlivened by his conversation; moreover, I had noticed that he took over, most unobtrusively, much of the work which he thought would tire Jean-Louis.

Hetty came and I did find her a delightful young woman and during the time she stayed with me I learned quite a lot about her. She was not one to give her confidences easily, being somewhat introspective, I imagined, but in due course we became good friends.

She told me it had not been easy to adjust to life at the farm, coming to it, as she had, when she was grown up.

“Of course,” she explained, “I used to pay visits during the summer. I always enjoyed the haymaking and the Harvest Home, but I did find I had little in common with my brothers and sisters.”

I understood why. Tom Hassock was quite a good farmer but he had a large family to feed. It was for this reason that his wife’s sister had taken Hetty and brought her up, educating her and giving her a different life from that of her brothers and sisters.

“Aunt Emily had married well,” Hetty told me, “a tradesman with a mercer’s business in Cheapside, and they had lived over the shop.” She and her husband had been childless and for this reason soon after Hetty was born they had asked if they could take the burden of a new child off the already pressed Hassocks and bring her up as their own. The farmer and his wife had seen this as a good opportunity for the daughter which must not be missed. So at the age of two Hetty had gone to London.

She had gone to a school in London and had been fed and clothed in a manner which by the Hassock family was considered affluent.

“It became a little upsetting going home sometimes,” she said. “I had so much more than they had. It didn’t seem fair. They were always so proud of me, though. Particularly my father. He used to say: ‘Hetty is the lady in the family.’”

“Well, that should have made you proud. You mustn’t feel ashamed because you were the fortunate one and made use of your good fortune.” I said.

“Oh. I don’t. But sometimes I think they expect too much of me. When my aunt died I stayed on with my uncle; but after he died his nephew took over the business … and he had a wife and four children. There was no room for me so I came home.”

“I see. So now you have to adjust to being a farmer’s daughter.”

“It’s difficult. I’m really glad to get away from home for a while.”

“Oh, you’ll settle down,” I said. “And you might marry.”

She flushed slightly and lowered her gaze.

Of course she would. I thought. It was obvious that James felt very seriously about her.

The summer had almost gone and autumn was in the air. It was a good harvest that year and everyone was delighted. Preparations for harvest festival went on with great enthusiasm. The church was decorated with all the products of the earth from cabbages to dahlias and chrysanthemums. But the great occasion was in fact the Harvest Home, which would be celebrated on the Saturday before the church festival.

It had been the custom on the estate that the celebration should take place at Clavering Hall, so that all the farmers and the families who lived on the estate could celebrate together. There was a great deal of bustle at the Hall and Dickon threw himself wholeheartedly into the preparations and I think that my mother and Sabrina were especially interested because of Dickon’s excitement.

The trouble over the strip of land had not done anything to diminish his interest and he was still riding round with Jean-Louis or James Fenton and going to the estates office to learn about inside management.

James was very pleased about it and made it clear that he had not liked what had to be done one little bit. Dickon shrugged it aside and I thought that he had forgotten all about it.

He himself concocted the brew in the great punch bowl and the cooks were busy for a long time preparing the feast. No one talked of anything but Harvest Home; every farm had its corn dollies, which were hung up to decorate the hall and bring good luck beside the sheaves of wheat. The fruit, vegetables and great cob loafs would be distributed throughout the district when it was all over.

Fiddlers had been engaged and if the weather was bad there would be dancing in the great hall; if not it would be out of doors—which everyone was hoping for.

Great tables were set up and filled with refreshments. It was going to be one of the best Harvest Homes ever to have been known, said my mother to Sabrina; and they exchanged smiles. It was of course because Dickon had taken part in it.

Lottie’s nanny had now recovered but I said she must take things easily for a while as she must be considerably weakened and Hetty should stay with us until she was really strong. As neither of them had any objection, this was arranged.

Two days before the Harvest Home, a message came for James. His cousin, the one who had visited us, wrote that his father was dangerously ill and he wanted to see James before he died.

“You must go, James,” said Jean-Louis. “You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t. We’ll manage the Harvest Home without you. We have enough helpers. Besides it’s more or less settled, and with the harvest in this is the best time for you to take a break.”

So James left the day before the Harvest Home.

It was a great occasion with much merry making. The weather was good enough for people to be out of doors so the young ones danced on the lawns and the older ones sat inside and did full justice to the punch and pies and good food which the kitchens had provided.