Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (6 page)

‘But I do know I love Dickon and he loves me.’

‘Well, you have to grow up a little, don’t you? Why shouldn’t you do that growing up here?’

I could not think of anything to say. I wanted to be alone to ponder this new turn in affairs and to ask myself what effect it was going to have on my life.

The Comte was saying: ‘Your mother is making arrangements to come to France.’

‘She can’t leave Eversleigh.’

‘Arrangements will have to be made. In fact she has been making them for some time. We agreed to this two weeks ago. We both decided that having found each other we were not going to risk losing each other again. Lottie, I can never explain what a joy it has been to find you … and your mother. I thought of her over the years and it seems she did of me. What is between us is something which rarely comes.’

I nodded and he smiled at me fondly, realizing that I was thinking of Dickon; and although he believed that I could not possibly understand, he did not say so.

‘Now we have a chance to regain what we have lost. We both realize that. Nothing is going to stand in our way. Your mother will be coming here soon. We shall be married then. I wanted you to hear it first from me. When your mother comes she will tell you what arrangements have been made. In the meantime we must prepare for the wedding.’

He put his arms about me and, drawing me to him, kissed me. I clung to him. I was very fond of him and proud that he was my father. But when I tried to look into the future, it seemed very misty to me.

The news that my father was to be married was received in his household with consternation, I think, although no one said very much to me. Armand shrugged his shoulders and seemed cynically amused because the bride was to be my mother, and the romantic plans were clearly the outcome of an old love-affair.

‘So we have a sister and
belle mère
at one stroke,’ he said, and I was sure he went off to laugh about it with his cronies—worldly young gentlemen like himself.

Sophie was inclined to be pleased. ‘He will be so taken up with his own marriage that he won’t think about arranging one for me,’ she confided to me.

I replied: ‘You worry too much. If you don’t want to marry the man they choose for you, just say so. Be firm. They can’t drag you screaming to the altar.’

She laughed with me and it occurred to me that we were beginning to get on very well.

Lisette talked excitedly of the marriage.

‘He must be deeply enamoured,’ she said, ‘for there is no need to get heirs.’

‘Surely that is not the only reason for marrying,’ I said.

‘It usually is the main one in France. Otherwise men would never marry. They like a variety of mistresses.’

‘How cynical you all are! Don’t you believe in love?’

‘Love is very fine when there are advantages to let it flourish in comfort. I think that is the view of most people. I have learned to stare cold hard facts in the face and it seems to me that on this occasion your father must be truly in love.’

‘And that amazes you?’

‘I suppose such things can happen to anyone—even men like the Comte.’

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed at me.

I was delighted to see my mother when she arrived. She seemed to have cast off years. I felt very tender towards her because I realized that her life had not been easy. True, she had loved the Comte and betrayed her husband, but that was one of the reasons for her years of contrition, and being the woman she was, she suffered very deeply through what she would call her sin. Now she blossomed; her eyes shone and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. She looked years younger. Like Pilgrim, I thought, when the burden fell from his shoulders. She was like a young girl in love.

The Comte had changed too. I was amazed that two elderly people—at least they seemed elderly to me—could behave like two young people in love. For indeed, they were in love and love appeared to have the same effect on people in their forties as it did on those in their teens.

She embraced me; the Comte embraced me; and we all embraced each other. All the retainers came into the hall to greet her. They bowed low and were all smiling and chattering and the Comte stood by, like a benign god, smiling on the happiness he had created.

Armand and Sophie greeted her with their own special brand of behaviour: Armand, smiling rather condescendingly as though he were confronting two children who were having a special treat, and Sophie nervously, certain that her new stepmother would find faults in her, in spite of the fact that I had assured her my mother was the easiest person in the world to get along with.

They were to be married the following week and the ceremony would take place in the castle chapel. I was all eagerness to ask questions about what was happening at Eversleigh but I did not get a chance to talk to my mother alone until much later in the evening.

We had eaten in the dining-room and I saw how impressed and enchanted she was by the château—just as I had been; and when we arose from the table she asked me to take her to the room which had been prepared for her.

‘We have hardly had a word alone since I arrived,’ she said.

When we were in her room she shut the door and as she looked at me some of the happiness faded from her face, and I felt misgivings that all was not as well as it had seemed.

I said: ‘There is so much I want to know. What about Eversleigh? What are you going to do about everything there?’

‘That is what I want to explain to you. It is taken care of …’

Still she hesitated.

‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.

‘No no. It has all worked out very well. Lottie, I have made Eversleigh over to Dickon.’

‘Oh!’ I smiled. ‘It is what he wanted, and of course, it is the solution.’

‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘It is what he wanted and it is the solution.’

‘So … he’ll have Eversleigh … and Clavering. I suppose he’ll be at Eversleigh most of the time. He loves that place and of course he
is
one of the family. If Uncle Carl had not been so eccentric it would have gone to him.’

‘Well, he has it now, and I have a letter for you, Lottie.’

‘A letter!’

She was a long time producing it and when she did she held it as though it were some dangerous weapon.

‘It’s from Dickon!’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘It will explain.’

I threw my arms about her and kissed her. I was longing to read the letter and did not want to do so until I was alone, but as she had asked me to talk to her I did not feel that I could leave her immediately.

‘It’s wonderful,’ I cried. ‘Everyone gets what they want! And you are happy aren’t you, Mother? You truly love him, don’t you?’

‘I have always loved Gerard.’

‘It’s so romantic … one of those “and they lived happily ever after” endings. It’s nice to know they do occur sometimes.’

‘We intend to be happy … after all these years. And, Lottie, this will be your home, you know.’

I frowned. ‘Well, I suppose so really. But I shall visit my relations in England. I suppose my grandmother will be at Eversleigh with Dickon’s mother.’

‘They will not be able to tear themselves away from him, and Eversleigh is a big house. They need not get in his way.’

I was smiling. It was all working out so happily. I would go to Eversleigh and he would be there. I was clutching his letters in my hand and it was difficult to stop myself tearing it open.

Perhaps she understood my impatience for she said: ‘Well, that is what I wanted to tell you.’

‘Dear Mother,’ I replied, ‘it is lovely to see you here. It is the most exciting and beautiful place you could imagine. I love it. And it is wonderful that you and the Comte are going to be so happy.’

‘He is so fond of you. He was delighted with you as soon as he saw you.’

‘I like him, too. Good night, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning. There is so much to talk about.’

‘Good night, my child,’ she said, ‘and always remember that everything I have ever done has been for your good.’

‘I know that. Good night. Sleep well.’

Then I was gone.

As soon as I was in my room I slit the envelope. Dearest little Lottie [he had written],

When you read this Eversleigh will be mine. It was like a miracle. Prince Charming appears out of the blue and whisks your mother off to his romantic castle and she leaves Eversleigh to me.

Isn’t that exciting? I often think of you and our little romance. It did amuse you, didn’t it? Our little game of pretence? We tried to forget that you were only a child and I must admit that at times you did not seem so. But facts are facts. You are going to live in France now. You will meet interesting people, for I believe Monsieur le Comte leads a very colourful life. I am so pleased that you will have such a wonderful time.

I shall soon be installed in Eversleigh with my mother and your grandmother. It is a family house, isn’t it? Generations of the Eversleigh clan have lived here … so even when I marry they won’t be moving out. I dare say that will be fairly soon. I am really so much older than you, Lottie, and it is time I was settled—especially now that I have Eversleigh and new responsibilities.

My blessings on you, dear Lottie. I hope you won’t forget the pleasant times we had together.

Dickon.

I read it through again. What did he mean? There were three facts which kept going round in my head. Eversleigh was now his. I was a child. He was going to marry soon.

It was all over then. Dickon no longer loved me, no longer wanted me. He wrote as though what had been between us had been some game of make-believe.

I began to see it all very clearly. It
had
been Eversleigh he had wanted. And now that he had it I had no place in his picture of the future.

I had never felt so miserable in the whole of my life. I threw myself on to the bed and stared up at the tester.

It was over. There was no need now for Dickon to marry me to get what he wanted.

So … he had jilted me.

T
HERE WAS GREAT EXCITEMENT
throughout the capital and indeed throughout the entire country because of the royal wedding. The people seemed to have forgotten their grievances and were growing excited at the prospect of all the fetes and entertainments which would be planned to celebrate the great occasion. The weather was beautiful; the may was in blossom; and it was a time for rejoicing.

It was three years since my mother had married my father and it amazed me to see how happy they were together. I think I had grown a little cynical. Dickon’s defection had made me grow up overnight. I still thought of him; he was enshrined in my heart as the perfect lover and no matter what I heard of him, nothing could change that. I used to talk about him to Lisette and Sophie and would build up romantic dreams, the theme of which was that there had been a terrible mistake; he had not written that letter jilting me; he had not married, and all this time he had been pining for me, for he had received a false letter from me.

It eased me, that dream, ridiculous as it was, for there were letters from my grandmother and Sabrina telling us how wonderful Dickon was and how happy with his dear wife Isabel, who had brought him a fortune and new interests in life.

My mother always gave me the letters to read with a certain embarrassment and apprehension, but I had learned to hide my feelings; I would read them avidly and then go away and tell myself I didn’t believe a word of them.

‘Dickon’s father-in-law is a very influential man,’ wrote Sabrina. ‘He is a banker and some high official at Court. It is all rather secret and we are not sure what he does there. He has his finger in many pies … and that means Dickon has too. You may be sure he makes the most of everything that comes his way …’

Once my grandmother and Sabrina came to visit us. They wanted to assure themselves that my mother and I were really happy.

Dickon did not come with them. ‘I suppose he can’t get his fingers out of all those pies,’ I said maliciously.

They laughed and replied that Dickon was indeed busy. He was in London a great deal and there was Eversleigh to run. He surrounded himself with good men … the right people.

‘He talks of you often, Lottie,’ said my grandmother. ‘He was so sweet to you when you came to stay, wasn’t he? Not many young men would have taken so much notice of a little girl.’

My mother put in rather tartly: ‘He took a lot of notice of Eversleigh and that included Lottie at that time.’

My grandmother ignored that and insisted: ‘It was a charming gesture to take so much interest in a little girl and he used to do everything to make Lottie happy.’

Yes, I thought. He kissed me in a way that I find hard to forget. He talked to me of marriage … and how happy we should be together. He persuaded me to love him. He tricked me, and when he got Eversleigh he jilted me.

I knew now that my mother had contrived it. She had sent for my father who had come and changed everything. Then she had given up Eversleigh because she thought that when Dickon had it he would cease to want me.

And how right she had been! I suppose I should have been grateful to her, but I wasn’t. I wouldn’t have cared for what reason Dickon wanted me. Perhaps I refused to let myself forget him; perhaps the idea of lost love pleased me, made me feel that my life, though tragic, was full of interest. That may well have been the case, but the fact remained that Dickon was always ready to come into my thoughts, and with the memory would come that frustrated longing.

‘There is only one fly in the ointment,’ said Sabrina; ‘they can’t get children.’

‘Poor Isabel, she does so long for a healthy child,’ added my grandmother. ‘There have been two miscarriages already. It seems as though she is ill-fated. Dickon is most disappointed.’

‘It is the only thing he cannot win for himself,’ I commented.

My grandmother and Sabrina never recognized irony when it was directed against Dickon. ‘Alas, that is so, my dear,’ said Sabrina sadly.

So there I was at the time of the royal wedding. The little Austrian girl who was about my age was coming to France to marry the Dauphin, who himself was not much older. The Comte would be at Court and I supposed we should all go to some of the entertainments. There would be balls and ballets and we should be able to catch a glimpse of the notorious woman, Madame du Barry, who was causing such a scandal at Court. She was vulgar and breathtakingly beautiful, I believed, and the King doted on her. Many had tried to remove her from her position, but the King remained enslaved.