I said: “You know we must all keep together. You must have heard that often enough.”
“Highwaymen. Everybody’s scared of highwaymen. I’m not.”
“No, for the reason that you have never encountered one.”
“I’d soon frighten him off.”
Sabrina said: “Dickon!” half reproving, half admiring; and I merely ignored him.
The journey passed without mishap and on this occasion we arrived at Eversleigh in the early afternoon.
Sabrina remembered the place well and grew reflective, excited but a little sad. I guessed so many memories—some not very pleasant—were stirring in her mind. She had spent the early part of her childhood at Enderby and in the days before Eversleigh Court had passed into Uncle Carl’s hands it had been a very orderly, rather conventionally run estate.
Jessie came out to meet us. I noticed that she displayed a little more discretion in her appearance than she had on that first occasion. She wore a blue muslin dress with a frilly white fischu and cuffs. There was only the smallest patch beside her left eye.
Evalina was there with her mother, almost a young woman now. I guessed she must be about fifteen years of age.
“His lordship is excited about your visit.” Jessie told us. “He has ordered that you are to be taken to him the minute you arrived.”
Oh yes, she was creating a different image. Now it seemed that his lordship gave the orders in the house: on the previous occasion it had clearly been Jessie who did this.
Evalina and Dickon eyed each other with interest, but Dickon’s main attention was for the house. He was rather quiet—which was unusual for him—gazing about him. I could see that he was impressed.
“Your rooms are all ready for you,” said Jessie. “And I was wondering if you would like a light snack, say … or wait for supper.”
I looked at Sabrina, who hesitated, I knew, because she thought Dickon would certainly be hungry. However, for once he did not seem interested in food. He was indeed taken with his surroundings.
I said I was prepared to wait. Sabrina said the same.
“Well then, would you like to come straight to his lordship?” She looked at me. “It was his orders,” she said.
So while our baggage was brought in we went to Uncle Carl’s room. He was seated in a chair by the window. He looked exactly the same as I remembered him—parchment-wrinkled skin and those strikingly lively dark eyes.
He turned to us and gave an exclamation of delight.
“Ah … you’re here. Come in. Come in. Oh, this is a pleasure. Now … you’re Sabrina. Ah yes, of course … Damaris’s girl. Good girl Damaris, and of course my dear Zipporah.” He gripped my hand and held it firmly. “And this …”
“He’s Richard, we call him Dickon … my son,” said Sabrina.
“Yes, yes … indeed. Welcome … welcome … Now, Jessie, have you given them something to eat?”
“Why bless you, they’ve only just come and it was your orders that they was to be brought straight to you. They say they’ll wait till supper.”
“Well … well. Bring chairs for them, Jessie.”
She did so, smiling at us, the stones in her ears twinkling.
“Now is there anything else you want before I leave you for a little family chat? When you’re ready pull the bell rope. I’ll have hot water sent to your rooms. I expect you want to wash and change. You must be tired after your journey.” She turned to Uncle Carl and lifted a finger. “Don’t forget they’ve had a long journey.”
“No. I don’t forget. It was good of you to come to see me. Would you want to go straight to your rooms?”
“In a little while,” I said. “But it is wonderful to see you looked after so well.”
His bright eyes looked straight into mine. “Jessie takes good care of me … thank you.” I was not sure whether or not he winked at me.
We talked awhile; mostly he was recalling the past. Sabrina was more conversant with that, being older than I and having been part of the earlier scene. Dickon got up and walked round the room examining the paneling and the wonderful old fireplace which was intricately carved with scenes from the Wars of the Roses.
I had never known him so quiet.
Uncle Carl asked solicitously after Jean-Louis and thanked me for the letters I had sent since we had last been together. It was all very conventional conversation and I began to think that it all seemed very normal and quite different from on that previous visit. After a while Dickon pulled the bell rope and it was Jessie who came up to take us to our rooms. She behaved with decorum and only occasionally stepped out of her role as housekeeper to assume that of mistress of the house.
I had the same room as I had had before, and I felt poignant memories flooding over me. I went to the window through which Gerard had climbed. Behind me was the bed on which we had spent that last ecstatic and melancholy night.
I wished I had not come. The memories were all bitter now.
Sabrina came in. She sat on my bed and smiled at me.
“I wasn’t expecting it to be so … normal.
“No.” I said. “Nor I. What did you think of Jessie?”
“Too flamboyant. Too much carmine and white lead.”
“She’s very subdued compared with what she was. Do you think she gives herself an air?”
“In a way. I expect it’s because she is so useful. She runs the household, that’s obvious … and from what I’ve seen does it rather well.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s different. …”
“Oh, I expect she was just trying to show how important she was to the household. Perhaps now that’s obvious and she feels she doesn’t have to assert herself. She’s blowsy. Probably on the stage at one time and now feels this is a good safe place to settle in.”
“But you know she got Uncle Carl to sign a paper. …”
“I remember your telling us. Well, that was long ago, wasn’t it? She seems to have settled down. Not the ideal housekeeper. I suppose … but we’ll watch her while we’re here. Dickon, by the way, is completely fascinated by the place. He thinks it so interesting. He’s going to explore tomorrow, he says.”
“I noticed how interested he was.”
“He is so enthusiastic about old places. It’s wonderful to see him so excited. He can be very serious at times. I know you haven’t forgiven him for Hassock’s fire … but he mustn’t be made to feel he’s to blame for Jean-Louis’s accident. He mustn’t, Zipporah. I know what that sort of guilt can do to an impressionable child. I suffered it myself.”
“I don’t think Dickon suffers from that. I don’t think he gives it a thought.”
“There are things you don’t understand about Dickon. I know you think your mother and I spoil him …”
“I understand how you feel about him. He’s your son.”
“I’m so proud of him,” said Sabrina. “He’s beginning to look so like his father.”
Dear Sabrina! Hers had been a tragic life, in a way. I went to her and kissed her.
“It’s so fascinating to be here … in the old place I know so well.”
“I don’t think we should stay more than two weeks.”
“Why, Zipporah, we have only just come. You don’t want to go home already.”
I thought: I do. I am going to be miserable here… … There is too much to remember.
“You hate leaving Lottie. Admit it.”
“Yes,” I said. “I want to be with her.”
“It’ll soon pass … and we shall be on the road again.”
I nodded fervently, wishing that I had never come.
I spent a restless night, haunted by dreams. Once I woke up and thought there was a rattle on the window. I got out of bed foolishly expecting to see Gerard there. Oh, I should never have come. There were so many memories.