Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (25 page)

He would be leaving in a few days and I must really be relieved when he went. While he was here I could not stop myself waiting for disaster to break; and it would be of his making.

Why had he come? To see me. Yet if he could not seduce me in his home, it was hardly likely that he would in mine. Perhaps the more difficult the chase, the more it appealed to him.

I think there was some other reason. He knew so much about France. His knowledge amazed me. How did he learn of these outbreaks all over the country? People did not speak much of them. I fancied that the King and his ministers had no desire for the people to know of the unrest which was growing among the peasant classes. The King wanted no trouble with England. A war would be disastrous to France at this moment, but these adventurous aristocrats with the notion of liberty for others were doing their best to provoke war. Whatever their sympathies were, they would have been wise to keep them to themselves, for as Dickon said there was trouble brewing in their own backyard. How did Dickon become so knowledgeable about this? He was involved in Court circles, and knowing his adventurous nature I could imagine in what direction he would go. It could be that he had come to France as an ordinary traveller visiting relations. There was nothing to arouse suspicion in that. At the same time he could learn a great deal about what was going on. He would discover the strength of those expeditions to the New World; he could test the opinion in France.

He had been in Paris; he had travelled through the country and seen for himself what was happening there, and being Dickon he had implied that he had come to see me.

I was aroused from my reverie by the talk of the two at the card table. They had stopped and were discussing stakes.

‘Let us wager something other than money,’ suggested Dickon. ‘It makes the game more exciting. Some object … your signet ring against mine.’

‘I wouldn’t care whether I won your signet ring or not.’

Charles was speaking in a rather slurred tone. He had drunk too much. I would remind him that it was getting late and try to stop the game.

‘There must be something that you could be interested in. Your house? Men have staked houses before. Your house against mine.’

‘Of what use would a house in England be to me?’

‘It is hard to find something I have which you want,’ said Dickon. ‘This living in different countries makes it a little difficult. Let me think, what have you which
I
want?’

He had lifted his eyes and caught mine. I looked away quickly. I could not meet that brilliant blue gaze.

‘I see,’ Dickon went on, ‘that we are not going to reach any satisfaction. But I do feel there is something … I have it!’

There was a moment of tense silence in the room. I thought they might hear the violent beating of my heart. In those seconds I was thinking: He should never have come here. There is always trouble where he is. And what now? What does he plan?’

Dickon was speaking quietly, almost persuasively. ‘You said you wanted to go. I wonder whether I should too. What an adventure! I should like to see the New World. They say it is very beautiful. A variety of scenery. Tobacco … cotton … though perhaps not where we should go. This is what I suggest we play. The loser goes into battle. You to fight for the rights of the oppressed; I on the side of the oppressor.’

‘What a ridiculous idea!’ I cried. ‘I never heard anything so absurd. The idea of staking such a thing … on a card game!’

‘Alas, my friend, your wife forbids it.’

There was no mistaking the pity in Dickon’s voice for the man who could not choose for himself. Poor Charles, he was implying, you are not allowed a will of your own. Your wife decides for you.

He knew that would sting Charles into action.

‘I think it is an amusing idea,’ he said.

‘This is the first time you have agreed with Dickon,’ I reminded him. ‘And over such a foolish matter!’

‘It excites me,’ said Dickon. ‘The fall of a card … and one’s future changed. That is the true spirit of gambling.’

‘Deal the cards,’ said Charles.

‘Three games,’ cried Dickon, ‘as it is such an important issue. Too much so to be decided in one.’

I knew what he was doing. He wanted to be rid of Charles. But how could he be sure? Something told me that Dickon was always sure.

I looked at my father-in-law. He was asleep now. His wife was nodding. I could not take my eyes from the table.

The first game went to Charles. He was very merry.

‘I don’t think you are going to like it there,’ he said to Dickon.

‘If I go I shall make the best of it,’ retorted Dickon. ‘As I am sure you will.’

‘One up to me,’ said Charles. ‘The next one could be decisive. I have only to win one and there will be no need for a third.’

‘Here’s to me,’ said Dickon. ‘If you win this one it will cut short the excitement.’

I said: ‘Of course you are not serious.’

‘Deadly so,’ replied Dickon.

The game had begun. I heard the seconds tick away and then the final cry of triumph. Dickon was the winner.

Now I found the suspense unbearable. If Dickon went to America I might never see him again. I might not in any case. I ought not to. He was dangerous. There was no peace where he was. But I did not think he would ever go to America. If he lost he would find some excuse for staying at home.

The deciding game had started. I watched them, my heart throbbing. The silence seemed to go on for a long time. And then … Dickon was laying his cards on the table. He was smiling at Charles. I could not understand what Charles’s expression meant and neither of them spoke.

I could endure no more. I rose and went to the table.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

Dickon smiled at me. ‘Your husband will be leaving for North America to fight in the cause of justice.’

I was so angry with them both that I swept the cards from the table.

Dickon stood up and looked at me ruefully. ‘You should not blame the cards,’ he said; and taking my hand kissed it and bade me good-night.

I helped Charles to bed. He was bemused both by the wine he had drunk and the wager he had made. I don’t think he quite realized then what it meant.

‘An evening’s nonsense,’ I called it. I said: ‘I suppose it was a way of putting a bit of excitement into a card game.’

Charles slept heavily and in the morning he had fully recovered. I had slept very fitfully because although I had tried to assure myself that it was an evening’s nonsense, I was not at all certain of that.

Charles sat on the bed and said: ‘I shall have to go.’

‘How ridiculous!’

‘I have always paid my debts at cards. It is a matter of honour.’

‘This was just a bit of nonsense between you two.’

‘No. It was meant. I have often thought I ought to go and this has decided me. I shall go and see Brouillard today.’

‘You mean that man at Angoulême!’

‘It will be easier to go with him. Doubtless there will be several I know among his recruits.’

‘Charles, are you seriously meaning to go abroad?’

‘It is only for a short time. We’ll get the English on the run and it will be over soon. I’d like to be in on the end.’

‘So you really are serious!’

‘Never more.’

‘My God!’ I cried. ‘How foolish can men get!’

Two days later Dickon left and Charles had already made contact with the Comte de Brouillard and was in constant touch with the noblemen who were to form part of the Comte’s expedition.

Dickon was well pleased when he said
au revoir
to me. He wouldn’t have said goodbye. ‘Too final,’ he said. ‘We shall see each other soon, I promise you.’

‘What would you have done … if you had lost?’ I asked him. ‘Would you have left Eversleigh … your exciting life in London?’

He smiled secretly. ‘I try to make a point of not doing what I don’t want to,’ he said. ‘I can imagine nothing more dreary. To tell the truth—but just for your ears only—I am really on the side of the Colonists. I think our government are behaving as foolishly as the French and should never have levied those taxes which sparked it all off. But don’t tell a Frenchman that. I take back nothing of what I have said about them. Frenchmen are making another of their mistakes which could rebound. You should come home to England, Lottie. You’d be safer there. I don’t like what I see here. There is a cauldron of discontent … simmering at the moment, but there will come a time when it will boil over, and this War of Independence … or rather the French participation in it … is adding to the fuel under the pot. Foolish aristocrats like Lafayette and that husband of yours can’t see it. A pity for them.’

‘Don’t preach to me, Dickon. I believe you were determined to get him away.’

‘I must admit that I do not like to see him being so intimate with you.’

I laughed. ‘He is my husband you know. Goodbye, Dickon.’

‘Au revoir.’
he said.

The next weeks were given over to Charles’s preparations. He arranged for Amélie and her husband to come to the château and stay during his absence. Amélie’s husband had considered himself fortunate to marry into a family as rich as the Tourvilles and was only too ready to install himself in the château. As for Amélie, she was delighted to be home again.

So within a few weeks of Dickon’s visit, Charles left for the New World.

It was several months since Charles had left and I had heard nothing from him. For some weeks I could not believe he had really gone; then I wondered why he had gone so readily. It was true that he had indulged in that foolish game of chance, but I sensed that in his heart he had wanted to go. It showed me clearly that he must have been finding our marriage vaguely unsatisfactory. He had married me and desired me greatly in the beginning; he still did, for there had been nothing perfunctory about his love-making and on our last night together he had been definitely regretful, declaring again and again that he hated leaving me. On the other hand, the excitement of adventure was on him and he was eager to start out on a new way of life—for a while at any rate.

I was sure he thought he would not be away for more than six months. Yet I could not forget that he had gone with a certain amount of eagerness.

Then Dickon? What had been his motive. To separate us, I believed.

During the months I heard nothing from Dickon but Sabrina sent messages expressing the wish that I would come to Eversleigh. ‘Poor Clarissa, she is very weak now,’ she wrote. ‘She would love to see you.’

My mother received the same appeal and perhaps if she had suggested going I would have gone with her; but she did not. My father must have persuaded her that he needed her more than anyone else. Moreover the situation between France and England was worsening, and the more help France poured into America, the more difficult it was for the English to subdue the Colonists, and the greater was the rancour between our two countries.

So there were many reasons why it would not be wise for me to pay a visit to England at this time.

We had settled into the new routine at Tourville. Amélie and I had always been friendly in a mild way; her husband was a gentle person, very honoured and delighted to live in the château and take over the management of the estate. His own business affairs had been small and he was able to incorporate the two without much difficulty. As for my parents-in-law, they were delighted to have their daughter back. I think they understood her more than they had Charles, so his absence did not appear to concern them as much as I had thought it would.

I spent a great deal of time with the children and it was enjoyable to watch them growing up. Lisette was my constant companion and I was more in her company than that of any other of the adult inhabitants of Tourville.

I remember well that spring day when Lisette and I sat together in the garden. Claudine was running about on the grass and the boys were out riding with one of the grooms.

We were talking about Charles and wondering what was happening in that far-off land.

‘Of course,’ I was saying, ‘it is difficult to get news through. I wonder if there is much fighting.’

‘I imagine he will soon grow tired of it and long for the comforts of home,’ said Lisette.

‘Well, at least he did what he said he would do.’

‘Dickon rather forced him to it. Have you heard from Dickon?’

‘No, but from Sabrina.’

‘I wonder …

‘Yes, what do you wonder?’

‘About Dickon … whether he just likes to stir up a little mischief or whether this is part of a great design.’

‘A little mischief,’ I said; and just at that moment I saw a maid running across the lawn and behind her a man. I stood up but I did not recognize him immediately. It was my father, and I had never seen him look as he did then. He seemed to have aged by at least twenty years and what was so unusual for him, he was carelessly dressed and his cravat was ruffled.

I knew something terrible had happened.

‘Father!’ I cried.

‘Lottie.’ There was desolation in his voice.

He took me into his arms and I cried out: ‘What is it? Tell me … quickly.’

I drew away from him and saw the tears on his cheeks.

I stammered: ‘My mother … ’

He nodded, but he could not speak. Lisette was beside me. She said: ‘Is there anything I can do?’

I replied: ‘Perhaps you would take Claudine and leave us. Father,’ I went on, ‘come and sit down. Tell me what has happened.’

He let me lead him to the seat which Lisette had just vacated. I was vaguely aware of her taking a rather bewildered and inclined-to-protest Claudine across the grass.

‘You have just arrived. You must be worn out. Why … ’

‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘your mother is dead.’

‘No!’ I murmured.

He nodded. ‘Gone! She’s gone, Lottie. I shall never see her again. I could kill them … every single one of them. Why her? What had
she
done? God preserve France from the rabble. I would hang them all … every one of them … but that’s too good for them.’

‘But why … why my mother?’ I was trying to think of her gone, but I could only think of this poor broken man who now had to live his life without her.