To bear a grudge … a grudge which drives one to murder! I could not get that out of my mind.
Back in Eversleigh preparation began for the party. Eighteen was a coming of age. We were no longer children and I guessed our parents were hoping that suitable husbands would be found for us for that seemed to be the wish of all parents with nubile daughters.
The date was set for the end of August.
“The best time for a party,” said Claudine, “for if the weather is good it can spill out into the garden.”
We set about making out lists of guests.
“There is no need to send out invitations to the Barringtons,” said my mother. “You two girls can go over and invite them personally.”
A few days later Amaryllis and I set out together. On the way we passed the woods and I saw smoke rising from the trees.
“Look!” I said to Amaryllis.
“Gypsies, I suppose,” she answered.
“It’s a long time since we had them here. Not since …”
“That poor man …”
“Six years,” I said.
My thoughts were back in that terrible moment when Romany Jake had come out of the house and been captured. It was a nightmare which had recurred in my mind in the past and even now came back to haunt me.
Amaryllis knew how I had felt and was very sympathetic; whenever the subject was mentioned she would remind me that I had saved his life.
I tried to believe I had; and indeed it seemed certain that if I had not roused my father to take action, the death sentence would have been carried out.
Now the thought of the gypsies brought it back.
“Let’s go and see,” said Amaryllis, and she spurred on her horse.
I followed.
There in the clearing were the caravans. One of the women was lighting a fire and a few children were running about shouting to each other.
They were all silent when they saw us.
One of the men strolled over.
“Permission to stay is being asked,” he said. “Now… this minute.”
“You mean someone has gone to the house?”
The man nodded.
A girl emerged from a caravan and, looking curiously at us, strolled over. She was strikingly attractive with large luminous long-lashed dark eyes. Her hair hung in a thick plait tied at the end with red ribbon. I knew before she spoke who she was. She knew me too.
“Good day,” she said. “Miss Frenshaw, is it not?”
I said: “You are Leah.”
She smiled in affirmation.
“So you have come back.”
“My father has gone to the house to ask permission for us to rest here.”
“This is Miss Amaryllis Frenshaw,” I said.
She bowed her head. Amaryllis gave her friendly smile. She had heard of Leah, of course, and knew what part she had played in Romany Jake’s tragedy.
“Do you intend to stay long?” I asked.
She shook her head. “For a very short while. We are on our way to the West Country.”
“Have you … heard anything of…”
She shook her head.
“It is so long ago.”
“Six years,” I said.
“In another year he will be free.”
“Yes,” I said. “Another year. I am sure my father will agree to your staying here.”
“I think so,” she said, and stood aside to let us pass.
We went on.
“What an extraordinarily beautiful girl,” said Amaryllis.
“Yes. She looked sad, though. I suppose when something like that happens to you… when a man almost loses his life for defending you, it would make you feel strange … guilty in a way.”
“It was not her fault. She should not feel guilty.”
“No, but sometimes people feel guilty when things are not their fault. I mean … if they come about because of you.”
“It may be so, but she certainly is lovely.”
We had come to Grasslands. Mrs. Barrington had heard our approach and came out to greet us while one of the grooms took our horses.
“Edward is at home,” she said. “He’ll be so pleased you’ve called.”
“Everyone will, I hope.”
“I can assure you of that.”
“Everyone is well?”
“In excellent form. We still miss Irene and wish we could be more together. She is pregnant again. Isn’t that exciting? If only she were a little nearer!”
Edward had come out. “What a pleasure to see you,” he said.
Edward had seemed to become much more mature since I had first seen him six years ago on that fateful trip to Nottingham. He was very sure of himself. His father said he was going to be one of the most influential businessmen in the country one day. “He has a flair for it,” was his comment. “Much more than I ever had. Reminds me of my grandfather who founded the business.”
I could well believe that. Edward constantly steered the conversation towards business; I imagined he found the trivialities of ordinary discourse a trifle boring.
I liked him though—mainly, I think, because whenever we met and Amaryllis was with me, although he was extremely polite to us both, he could not stop his eyes straying to me. That was pleasant. I think I was a trifle jealous of Amaryllis. She was so lovely and she had such a sweet nature; she was one of the good women of Eversleigh. I was of the other sort—not exactly bad, but rebellious, self-willed, selfish perhaps and decidedly vain. Yes … all those things and I really could not understand why so many young men—and older ones too—always showed more interest in me than in beautiful Amaryllis. It was extraordinary. Amaryllis would have made the perfect wife. She was domesticated, easygoing and extremely beautiful. I was none of these really. Yet it was to me they looked with a certain speculation which indicated they considered me desirable.
One of the servants once said: “You’ve got something, Miss Jessica. Miss Amaryllis is very pretty … beautiful as an angel… but you’ve got what they want. There’s no putting a finger on it. It’s just there. Miss Amaryllis is just too pretty, too much of the lady, too good, too nice. Men respect the likes of Miss Amaryllis but you’re one of them they go after.” The next remark was less flattering. “Men are such fools … never know what side their bread’s buttered, they don’t. Always go for them that’s hardest to live with … and leave the good ones behind.”
Amaryllis was undoubtedly one of the good ones.
“Come along in,” said Mrs. Barrington. “Oh, there’s Clare.”
Clare Carson had come in. She smiled as though pleased to see us, but I always felt she was hiding her true feelings.
“You’ll have to test the new elderberry,” went on Mrs. Barrington. “Ask them to bring it, Clare. Not a patch on young Mrs. Frenshaw’s … but you might like to try it.”
“We have come for a purpose, haven’t we, Amaryllis?”
“We have,” agreed Amaryllis. “It’s to invite you to our birthday party.”
“Oh, is it time then? How the days fly! It seems only yesterday when you had your seventeenth.”
Mr. Barrington had come into the room and heard the last remark. “The older you get, the quicker time flies,” he said. “Good morning to you, my dears.”
“It will be in August, I suppose,” said Clare.
“Yes,” I replied. “Midway between the two birthdays. That’s how it has always been.”
“You can be sure we’ll be there,” said Mrs. Barrington. “The whole lot of us … except Irene. She would be if she could, but she’s so far away … and there are the babies.”
“I shall make sure I’m here for it,” said Edward, smiling at me.
“A little relaxation will do you good,” added his father.