“Good day,” I said and urged my horse on.
Dr. Forster bowed to Evalina and walked his horse behind mine. I felt the color rising in my neck. That look in Evalina’s eyes disturbed me. What was she suggesting? That I was another such as I was sure she was? That I could pass from one man to another with the ease of a harlot?
There was so much in that look. Every time it said: We are two of a kind.
Of one thing I was certain: I would not put her on my list of guests. I could not have her at Eversleigh. I should be reminded of her mother … and perhaps at the back of my mind was the fear of the hints she might drop … perhaps to Jean-Louis.
The doctor had brought his horse to walk beside mine.
“You look annoyed,” he said.
“It must be that woman. She reminds me …”
“I suppose she is not to blame for her mother’s misdeeds. But I know how you feel.”
“I shall not ask her to Eversleigh.”
“Oh … the housewarming, you mean. I don’t think for a moment that her husband would be able to come. I was saying how much better he was but he is still an old man. Such festivities are not for him and he would be the first to admit it.”
“Then he wouldn’t expect an invitation.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
“That makes it easier.”
We had stopped. He was giving me another of those steady glances.
“I hope,” he said, “that someday you will come and see my hospital.”
“I should like that.”
He bowed his head and turned away.
I rode into the stables. It had been a most enjoyable morning apart from the meeting with Evalina in the lane.
Preparations were going ahead. Jean-Louis thought it was an excellent way of bringing everyone together and showing them that life at Eversleigh was going to be as it had been in the days of Carleton, Leigh and General Carl. The manor house should be the center of the community. The farmers were pleased. It was different taking one’s grievances to a landowner rather than merely to his manager. They had all been shocked to learn that they had a criminal in their midst; and although the affair had provided a great flutter of excitement while it had lasted, there was nothing like normality to bring prosperity to an estate—and when that was present everyone could benefit from it.
I heard through Charles that Andrew Mather was confined to his bed with rheumatism, so I felt that I was justified in not sending an invitation to Grasslands.
The new cook, Mrs. Baines, was in her element: the servants were in a state of perpetual excitement decorating the place with the help of the gardeners; the house was filled with the smells of cooking, and the main topic of conversation was the party.
Lottie seemed to be everywhere; she tried on her dress ten times a day, danced round the ball room with imaginary partners, was in the kitchen tasting the various cakes and sweetmeats; prevailing on Mrs. Baines to cook her what she called little tasters.
“I wish,” said Lottie, “that we had a party every day.”
“That would be far too much,” I assured her.
“Well, one a week,” she temporized.
Lessons, which she had taken with me since we came to Eversleigh, we passed over for a few days. I had warned her that as soon as we were settled we must look for a governess. Lottie grimaced but she could not think beyond the party.
It was about three days before the party when having walked over to Enderby for a chat with Isabel to tell her of the final plans for the great day, I encountered Evalina.
I believed that she had lain in wait for me.
“Oh … good day to you,” she cried. “You must be very busy getting ready for your party.”
“Good day,” I replied. “Yes, I am.” I prepared to pass on. But she was barring my way with that sly look in her eyes.
“All the neighborhood will be there,” she said. “So I hear …but there are exceptions.”
“It is impossible to ask everyone, I suppose,” I said.
“Impossible? Oh, no, not that. Unneighborly, I’d say.”
I replied: “I didn’t send you an invitation. I know that your husband is not fit to come.”
“But I am,” she said.
“I had not thought you would wish to … without him.”
“Andrew is a kind husband. He wouldn’t want to spoil my fun.”
She was leering at me in a way I found most unpleasant. I thought, somewhat irrelevantly, that I preferred Jessie to her daughter.
“Well,” I said lamely, “the invitations have all gone out now. I naturally thought …”
“There’s time to send out one more.”
This was blatant. She was asking for an invitation. Asking? She was demanding it.
“I reckon,” she said, “it would look funny if I wasn’t there. People would say: ‘Why weren’t you there?’ I’d have to think up something to tell them, wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t want to but I couldn’t let that pass … somehow … could I?”
This is blackmail, I thought.
She was smiling at me sweetly, helplessly, as though I were forcing her into a situation which had no charm for her.
Standing there in that lane I was suddenly afraid. I wished I was back at Clavering. I thought of her whispering something into Jean-Louis’s ear and a vision of his kind, patient face rose before me.
I loved him; I would do anything rather than hurt him. I know I had forgotten him when I had been caught in the fascination of passionate love with another man. If I could go back I would be different. I would never let it happen. But that was not true. It would be exactly the same, I knew it. I yearned for Gerard. I longed for Gerard. I loved Jean-Louis, yes … but what I had felt for Gerard was something different … beyond love, perhaps.
There was one thought hammering in my brain. Jean-Louis must never know.
I looked at this girl with her hateful sly face, with her veiled threats, and I loathed myself as I said: “Well, it is not too late, as you say. If you really want to come.”
She smiled at me, looking young and innocent.
“Oh, thank you. So I shall get my invitation? I don’t suppose Andrew will be able to come but he wouldn’t want to stop me enjoying myself.”
I couldn’t look at her. I turned away hating her, hating myself.
The party was in full swing. It had been a glorious spring day—as hot as summer—and everyone was saying that it was like old times. Eversleigh was coming into its own again. The farmers with their wives and families were delighted to have what they called the “Family” in command. I suppose poor Uncle Carl had been an invalid almost from the moment he had arrived and he had taken little interest in the estate. It was different with Jean-Louis: he had managed an estate before he came and all those who had talked with him recognized a man who knew his job.
Many of them remembered my mother and one or two of the really aged remembered the great Carleton Eversleigh, who, a hundred years before, when he had been a young man, had saved the mansion and estate from Cromwell’s rule.
They liked to feel that the family was in command again and things were not being left to the rogue Amos Carew had turned out to be. And as for that Jessie … they had all deplored her presence.
So it was a happy occasion until Evalina came.
It was asking too much to expect these people to forget who she was. She was the daughter of the infamous Jessie, who had been the mistress of the old lord at the same time as she was carrying on (as they said) with Amos Carew.
Some of the older people were aloof with Evalina but the younger men found her irresistible. I couldn’t help watching her. I was afraid that she might talk to Jean-Louis. But he was busy with the farmers, who seemed as if they were not going to let him escape. He wouldn’t want to join the dancers on the grass outside. So I felt comparatively safe.