She smiled at me, seeming to read my thoughts. That was disconcerting in Harriet. I often felt she knew what was in my mind.
“Your hair suits you loose like that,” she said.
“I was just about to give it a brushing.”
“When I disturbed you.”
“You know I enjoy talking to you.”
“I came to say thank you for your letter to your mother.”
“I can’t think why you should do that.”
“You know very well why I do. I don’t want to leave here … yet, Arabella.”
“You mean you may sometime … soon?”
She shook her head. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t want to stay here forever.”
“We have always believed that someday we should all go back to England. There was a time when we daily expected the summons to come. Then we stopped looking for it, but I suppose it has always been there in our minds.”
“You wouldn’t want to stay here for the rest of your life.”
“What a notion. Of course, I shouldn’t.”
“If you were in England they would now be looking for a husband for you.”
I thought of my mother’s letter. Wasn’t that just what she had implied?
“I suppose so.”
“Lucky little Arabella to be so well cared for.”
“You forget I’m caring for myself.”
“And you’ll be very good at it … when you’ve learned a little more about life. It’s been so different for me.”
“You told me quite a lot about what had happened to you. Then you stopped. What did you do when you fell in with those strolling players and your mother liked one of them?”
“She liked him so much—I suppose he reminded her of my father—that she married him. I shall never forget the day of her wedding. I have never seen her so happy. Of course she was well content with the Squire and it was a dignified life she had there. Lady of the Manor almost. But she had been brought up very strictly and she had never felt really respectable. Now she did. She had had a strolling player lover who had given her a child; now she had a strolling player husband and that seemed to make it right in her eyes. She always referred to him as Your Father. And I really believe the two merged together in her mind.”
“Did she join the company?”
“It wasn’t much of a company. By this time theatres were pronounced sinful in England and strolling players, if discovered, would have been thrown into prison. So they planned to go to France. It wouldn’t be easy. They were going to do puppet and miming shows … because of the language, you see. But they reckoned they could learn that in time. It wasn’t a very bright prospect, but what else could they do when there wasn’t a hope of playing in England at all? We set out and a few miles off the French coast a terrible storm blew up. Our ship was wrecked; my mother and her new husband were drowned.”
“How terrible!”
“At least she had had that supreme happiness. I wonder whether it would have lasted. She had endowed him with all the virtues she had moulded onto my father. It was strange, really. My father disappeared and her husband died before she had time to realize they did not possess them.”
“How do you know her husband didn’t?”
“I knew by the way he looked at me that he wouldn’t be the faithful, loyal creature she had built him up to be.”
“So he wanted you …”
“Of course he wanted me.”
“Then why did he marry her?”
“He wanted her as a wife. He wanted to be looked after, cared for by a mature woman. He was eager to take her, and don’t forget I went with her.”
“What a disgusting creature!”
“Some men are.”
“What happened to you then?”
“I was rescued and taken ashore. I was fortunate that the men who rescued me were employed by the local landowner, the Sieur d’Amberville, a gentleman who was, as you have guessed by his title, a power in the district. He lived in a fine old château surrounded by vast estates. First I was taken to the cottage in which my rescuers lived and news went round that I had been saved from the sea. Madame d’Amberville came to see me, and realizing that I was somewhat distressed to find myself in such a humble dwelling, to which, I made it clear, I was unaccustomed, she said I should be taken to the château, and so I was given a delightful bedroom there and Madame’s servants waited on me. When she questioned me, she had the impression that I was the daughter of Squire Travers Main.”
“Which you gave her no doubt.”
“No doubt. And she realized then why I found a workman’s cottage distasteful. I stayed on until I recovered, and then I told her I must go, and when she asked where, I said that I did not know, but I could not encroach any longer on this hospitality of the d’Ambervilles. She was loathe to let me go and an idea came to me. There were several young d’Ambervilles … six of them from the ages of five to sixteen, and that was not counting the eldest daughter of eighteen and her brother Gervais, the eldest son, who was twenty years of age. So I suggested to her that I should become …”
“The governess?” I said.
“How did you guess?”
“Sometimes history has a habit of repeating itself.”
“That is often because what happens once makes us resourceful in similar circumstances. It’s what is called experience.”
“I always knew you were very experienced.”
“Indeed I am. I became the governess. I taught the children as I now teach your sister and brothers. I was a great success and I enjoyed my stay with the d’Ambervilles.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because the eldest son, Gervais, fell in love with me. He was very handsome … very romantic.”
“Did you fall in love with him?”
“I was in love with the title he would have and the lands and the riches. I am being very frank tonight, Arabella. I think I am shocking you a little. Mind you, I liked other things about him besides the worldly possessions which would one day be his. He was gallant, adoring, everything that a lover should be. Hot-blooded and passionate. He had never met anyone like me. He wanted to marry me.”
“Why didn’t you marry him?”
“We were discovered.” She smiled as though amused by the memory. “In flagrante delicto … almost. By his mother. She was horrified. ‘Gervais!’ she said. ‘I can’t believe my eyes.’ Then she went out, banging the door loudly. Poor Gervais. He was horrified. It was very embarrassing for a well-brought-up boy.”
“And what about you?”
“I knew it had to come to a head, and I thought it was better to have the family’s consent to the marriage before it took place. The French are more conventional than we are at home. They might well have cut him off with a few sous. After all there were two other sons and Jean Christophe was rising twelve—one of my most appreciative pupils—so Gervais was not indispensable. Now they knew how far it had gone. From what Maman had seen during her brief glimpse into our love nest it was possible that I might already be enceinte and a little d’Amberville on the way.”
“You really mean …”
“My dear, sweet, innocent Arabella, isn’t that what life is all about? If it were not so, how should we replenish the earth?”