The Secret Drawer
CHRISTMAS WAS ALMOST UPON us. The months after that trip to London had been sad ones for me. The forecast had been right. Jean-Louis did have a great deal of pain, and there is nothing more heartrending than to see a loved one suffer. I was grateful for the laudanum with which Charles supplied me; no doctor could have been more assiduous in his care for a patient than he was toward Jean-Louis. He would come immediately I sent for him; he comforted me, too; and Jean-Louis had such faith in him that his very presence seemed to soothe him.
Jean-Louis was stoical by nature; and it was so touching to see his attempts to hide his pain from me because he knew how it upset me to see him in that state. Charles had warned me that in the extremity of agony he might try to increase his dose of laudanum and this must never go beyond that prescribed. He had said that only I should administer it and therefore I should be able to keep a strict watch on how much he took. “Keep the bottles locked away,” he said, “and only you should have the key.”
“Jean-Louis would never take his own life whatever the provocation,” I said.
“My dear Zipporah, you don’t know the extent of the provocation.”
All this would have been unendurable if there had not been reasonably long periods when Jean-Louis was free from the pain. It could be absent for as much as a week at a time and that seemed to give us breathing space to recover and prepare ourselves for the next onslaught—and to get on with our lives.
I had engaged a governess for Lottie—rather to her displeasure. She liked her lessons with me, which were apt to be a little irregular. Now with the coming of Madeleine Carter, Lottie must be in the schoolroom precisely at the same hour every morning. She was not academically inclined and had what Miss Carter called a butterfly mind. It flitted from one subject to another. “If only it would settle,” said Miss Carter, “something might be achieved.”
Madeleine Carter was a spinster in her early thirties. She was the sister of a vicar and had kept house for him until his unfortunate and early demise which had left her stranded and forced to take on the only kind of occupation available for one in her position. She was prim, strict, very efficient; and I thought an excellent choice. It was quite clear that Lottie needed someone to curb her for she was growing decidedly self-willed, and although she was possessed of great charm she could be wayward.
The greatest piece of luck was that James Fenton was looking after the estate. He had gone home directly after our return from London to break the news to Hetty, and in view of Jean-Louis’s condition he came back to us soon afterward, leaving Hetty, as he said, to pack up.
A few weeks later Hetty came with her two children and it was good to see her again. She was happy to be back but dreaded meeting Dickon, and as he would be coming for Christmas we arranged that she and James, with their children, should spend the holiday with James’s cousin on the farm and stay there until my mother with Sabrina and Dickon had returned to Clavering. It seemed a reasonable and satisfactory arrangement.
Thus the months passed. James had been a great asset and spent a lot of time with Jean-Louis discussing estate matters and working out policy; and Jean-Louis was delighted to have someone who would carry out his wishes—and. more than that, give his wholehearted support towards what was being done. James did a great deal to raise his spirits.
My friendship with the Forsters had grown and we were often in and out of each other’s houses. Charles Forster was frequently at Enderby, and as he visited Jean-Louis at least twice a week and more often of course when I called him in during one of Jean-Louis’s bad bouts, the family had become an important part of my life.
Then there was Evalina. She had been very friendly towards me since the matter of the will. She reminded me of a contented kitten who has found a good home and intends to keep it. She was assured the comfort and comparative opulence of Grasslands: she had her baby, whom she undoubtedly loved dearly, and a good manager—and perhaps more—in Jack Trent.
It was the day before Christmas Eve when our guests arrived. Lottie and I had done everything we could to bring a festive atmosphere into the house and by great good fortune Jean-Louis was better than he had been for some time. He was able to walk a little about the room with the aid of a stick and I arranged that on Christmas day two of the men servants might carry him down to the great hall. I prayed that we could keep the pain at bay for a little while.
Lottie was devoted to him. I saw his eyes light up whenever she came into the room. She invariably brought something for him which she had picked up during her walks or rides in the fields and woods. She came in with a sprig of holly, the berries as red as her cheeks.
“This has the most berries of all we picked, papa,” she told him, “so I saved it for you.”
It was a great comfort to me to see the joy she brought him. But for what I did there could be no Lottie to brighten his days. Good out of evil. Indeed it was so.
I listened to her chatter. “This is wild clematis, papa. Miss Carter makes me learn the names. Miss Carter knows everything, but alas your daughter is an ignoramus, dear papa. Did you know that?”
He took her hand and his eyes filled with tears. He was very emotional nowadays. “My daughter is the best and dearest girl in the world,” he said.
She regarded him with her head on one side. “As Miss Carter would say, it depends on what you mean by best. Best at jumping, yes … Best at climbing, yes. Best at sums … no, no, no! And rather wicked sometimes. I fear, and that’s not best.”
Her chatter amused him and she knew it. She might be rebellious at times, wayward often, but she had a good, kind and loving heart.
Together we watched the men bring in the yule log. She and I pored over the lists of food we should need for our guests. There would be games. Lottie’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. We needed a lot of people. The Forsters would come, and what about Evalina Mather?
I said we would have open house at Christmas.
“We’ll have dancing and fiddlers. Do you think the fiddlers will come on Christmas night, mama?”
“We’ll promise them punch and Christmas cakes as well as money. In fact we’ll make it irresistible for them.”
She clapped her hands. She was so excited. Suddenly she clapped her hands to her mouth.
“What is it?” I said.
“I should love to see Miss Carter dance,” she said.
“She might do so very well. People are full of surprises.”
“That would be the most unlikely Christmas surprise.”
“Wait and see,” I said, and we went on with our lists.
I was happy to see my mother again. She hugged me and said we had been separated far too long. I saw the compassion and dismay in her eyes when they rested on Jean-Louis and I realized how he must have changed since we left Clavering.
And there was Sabrina looking as beautiful as ever, and with her Dickon.
He was a man now. … He must be nineteen. He stood smiling at me with that rather enigmatic look which was half affectionate, half teasing.
“Well, it is good to see you, Zipporah,” he cried. “And this is Lottie. By Gad, you’ve grown.” He had picked her up and held her above his head looking up at her.
She was laughing. “Put me down,” she commanded.
“Not until you give me a kiss.”
“Oh, so it’s blackmail is it? All right then.” She gave him a peck on the forehead.
“Not good enough,” he said. “I don’t call that a nice cousinly kiss.”
“Put me down. Put me down!” shrieked Lottie.
I did not like to see her there held up in his arms and I was irritated by, the indulgent manner in which his mother and mine were regarding him.