“I must make my plans to go home now … at once,” I told him. “I’ve had a letter. Jean-Louis’s accident was more than a broken leg. He has injured his spine. I wonder if he is going to be an invalid.”
Gerard looked at me incredulously.
“Yes,” I went on, “I have had a letter from my mother. I shall have to go soon. I can’t delay. This is terrible.”
He held me against him and I felt the desire rising within me potent as ever. I felt I could not bear to leave him. I leaned my head against him. I was looking blankly into a future which did not hold him. I saw the dreary years stretching ahead of me.
He said: “I too must go. …”
“It’s the end then.”
“It need not be,” he said. “It is for you to decide.”
“Jean-Louis has been hurt.”
“What of me? What of us?”
“He is my husband,” I said. “I have vowed to love him … in sickness … in health. If only I had never come here.”
“Don’t regret it. You have loved … you have lived.”
“And I shall live on to regret … all my life.”
He said abruptly: “When do you propose to go?”
“Before the week is out.”
He bowed his head. Then he took my hand and kissed it. “Zipporah,” he said, “if ever you should change your mind …”
“Do you mean, you will be waiting for me?”
He nodded. “But you have not yet gone. There is still a little time left to me … to us … time for me to persuade you.
I shook my head. “I know I have been weak … I have been wicked … but there are some things which even I could not do.”
I don’t think he believed me. After all. I had been so eager, so willing, that he thought that when the time came I would abandon everything for him.
I knew I never would. I knew that no matter what happened I had to go back to Jean-Louis.
I had made up my mind that I was going to warn Uncle Carl. I did not mention my imminent departure to Jessie as I intended to speak to him first and I chose the afternoon when I knew we should be safe from intrusion.
He looked pleased to see me and into his eyes there crept that mischievous look which I did not understand. Sometimes I wondered how far his mind wandered into the past because lately it had become increasingly clear that he confused me with my ancestress Carlotta, who had clearly made a great impression on him in his youth.
I realized that almost immediately after my arrival I had met Gerard and even from that first meeting I had been so obsessed with him that the full implication of what might be happening in this house had not struck me so forcibly as it did now that I was on the point of departure.
A cry for help, Sabrina had said. Well, it was, in a way. Not that he was asking for help—although I was sure he was aware of the dangers of his situation. He did not seem to care about danger. He was like an onlooker watching with amusement the strange antics of human beings—even though he himself was one of the main actors in the drama.
Sometimes I thought he was too old to care what happened and as long as Jessie was there to administer to his comforts he was quite prepared for anything she might do—in fact took a lively interest in waiting to see which turn her actions would take.
It was all very strange—as everything had been since my arrival.
Therefore I had made up my mind that I must speak plainly to him and point out the danger in which he could be.
I began by telling him about my mother’s letter.
“My husband is not as well as we thought. At first it seemed that he suffered only from a broken leg and we thought that as soon as that mended he would be all right. There seems to be some complication, so I must go home.”
He nodded. “So you will be leaving us. I shall be sorry.”
“I will come again … perhaps with Jean-Louis or my mother or Sabrina.”
“That would be good. I trust you have enjoyed your stay here.”
“Oh yes… yes.”
He was smiling, was it secretly? “It seems to agree with you, Carlotta.”
I looked at him steadily and said: “I am Zipporah.”
“Of course. My mind wanders. I’m back in the past years and years ago. It’s not the first time, is it? I suppose it’s because you have a look of her. I notice it more every day.”
I said: “Uncle Carl, I want to say something to you which you might not like. You must understand I am only thinking of you.”
I saw the faintly imperceptible twitch of his lips which I had come to know indicated amusement.
“My dear child,” he said, “you are so good to me … so kind … so solicitous of my welfare. You have already gone to great trouble to do what I asked. I thought your French gentleman charming … quite charming. …” His bright eyes were on my face. “And so do you, eh?”
I knew the color was rising to my cheeks, and I thought: He knows. How can he know? Has Jessie spied on me? Has she talked about me with him?
“It was good of him to get me quickly into the town and to help us with the will.” I went on quickly: “It is that that I wanted to speak to you about, Uncle Carl.”
“It’s all sealed and settled now. I’ve done my duty. Eversleigh will be for you and your heirs. I feel the family ghosts are all nodding their heads in approval. Carl was an old reprobate, they are saying, but he has done his duty at last. Let’s all turn over in our tombs and go to sleep. We’ll give him a talking to when he comes to join us.”
He was smiling at me in that mischievous way and I plunged on. “Uncle Carl, there’s something I must say to you. You must not be persuaded to sign anything else … like that paper you did before.”
He nodded.
I stumbled on: “You see, if people think they are going to inherit a great deal they could go to any lengths to get their hands on it.”
He laughed. It was high pitched, almost falsetto. He looked shrewd and I wondered of how much he was aware and if his forgetfulness and the air of senility he sometimes assumed was all part of the role he was playing.
“You mean Jess … ?” he said.
“It’s a great temptation … particularly for people who have never had a great deal and perhaps are a little anxious about the future.”
“Jess would always find a place for herself.”
“I’ve no doubt, but she wouldn’t have many opportunities like this. I’ll be completely frank, Uncle Carl.”
“Oh. It always frightens me when people are going to be completely frank. I wonder if anyone ever is … about everything. … A little frank, yes … but completely frank. …”
“I hope you won’t be offended but I am anxious about you and I don’t want to go away … leaving things as they are.”
“All’s well. Old Rosen has the will.”
“Jessie doesn’t know it.”
“Poor Jess! What a shock for her.”
“She thinks because of this piece of paper you’ve signed that all this goes to her. It wasn’t very wise of you, Uncle Carl.”
“No,” he said, “my life is strewn with unwisdom.”
“You see …”
He was looking at me encouragingly. “You must say exactly what you mean, my dear.”
“Very well. I’m concerned about you. I couldn’t go away peacefully thinking that you might be in some sort of …”
“Predicament?”
“Danger,” I said boldly. “Uncle Carl, I think Jessie ought to know that you have signed that will and that …”
“And that she would gain little by my death.” How sharp he was. He seemed to be able to look right into my mind. I thought. He is playing a part as well as everyone else here.
“Yes,” I said boldly. “Yes.”
He nodded. “You are a good girl,” he said. “I’m glad this will be yours one day. You’ll do the right thing by it … and your children will manage the estate in accordance with the wishes of the ancestors watching from on high or from below, where it seems likely the majority of us will be.”