I said: “Edward Barrington is concerned about trouble in his factory. The people are threatening to break up the machines.”
Jeanne flashed a warning look at me. We did not talk of such things in front of Aunt Sophie. It reminded her of what she had endured from the revolutionaries in her own country.
Amaryllis said quickly: “We saw Tamarisk on the way in.”
It was a subject calculated to turn Aunt Sophie’s thoughts away from all that was unpleasant.
“She sits a horse well,” I said.
“Amazing child,” murmured Aunt Sophie lovingly.
“Too fond of her own way,” added Jeanne.
“She has spirit,” insisted Aunt Sophie. “I’m glad of that. I shouldn’t want her to be meek.”
“She was complaining bitterly about being on a leading rein,” I said.
“That one wants to run before she can walk,” commented Jeanne.
“She is full of life,” said Aunt Sophie.
We chatted a little about the weather and the party and after a while there was a commotion outside the door.
“I will go in. I want to see Amaryllis and Jessica. They are with Aunt Sophie. I will. I will. Let me go. I hate you. I’ll put a spell on you. I’m a witch.”
These words were followed by a crash on the door.
“Let her come in, Miss Allen,” called Aunt Sophie. “It’s quite all right.”
The door burst open and Tamarisk stood there—beautiful in her riding habit, her eyes ablaze, her hair like an ebony cap on her perfectly shaped head.
“Hello, mon petit chou,” said Aunt Sophie.
Tamarisk turned to us. “Petit chou means little cabbage, and in French that means darling and you are very precious. You thought I was going to be scolded, didn’t you?”
“I thought nothing of the sort,” I said.
“Yes, you did.”
“How did you know what I thought?”
“I know because I’m a witch.”
“Tamarisk,” murmured Jeanne reprovingly, but Aunt Sophie was smiling, clearly applauding her darling’s precocity.
“And what have you been doing?” she asked, giving her entire attention to Tamarisk.
“I’ve been riding. I can ride now. I won’t have Jennings holding my horse. I want to ride on my own.”
“When you’re a big girl…”
“I want it now.”
“Little one, it is only because we are afraid you will fall.”
“I won’t fall.”
“No, chou, but you wouldn’t want poor Aunt Sophie to sit here worrying that you might, would you?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” said Tamarisk frankly.
Aunt Sophie laughed. I looked at Jeanne who raised her shoulders.
Aunt Sophie seemed to have forgotten our presence, so I said we should be going and Jeanne escorted us to the door. Tamarisk was still telling Aunt Sophie how well she rode and that she wanted to ride by herself.
I said to Jeanne: “That child is becoming unmanageable.”
“She is not becoming, she always was,” commented Jeanne.
“Aunt Sophie spoils her.”
“She loves her so. She has made all the difference to her.”
“It is not good for the child.”
“I daresay Aunt Sophie is very sorry for her,” said Amaryllis. “Poor Tamarisk… it is awful not to have a father or a mother.”
“No child could be better looked after,” I reminded her.
“Yes … but to have no real father or mother… I understand how Aunt Sophie feels.”
“It is good that we came here,” mused Jeanne. “We had to leave our home … everything. But here there was first this house and that did a lot for her … and now the child. I think she will become better than I ever hoped … and it is due to the child.”
“The child is storing up a lot of trouble for herself, and for Aunt Sophie, I should imagine,” I said.
“Dear Jessica,” put in Amaryllis, “you were a bit of a rebel yourself when you were young. I can remember you … lying on the floor and kicking out at everything because you couldn’t have what you wanted. And look at you now!”
“So I have improved, have I?”
“A little.”
“We do our best,” said Jeanne, “Miss Allen and I. It is not easy. She is a difficult child. Sometimes I wish she were not so bright. She listens; she misses nothing. Miss Allen says she is quite clever. I wish she could be a little more serene.”
“I’m afraid she won’t be while Aunt Sophie spoils her.”
We rode back to the house.
“Well, are the Barringtons coming?” asked my mother.
“The entire family … with the exception of Irene who could not possibly have accepted,” I told her.
“I thought they would,” she answered, smiling at me.
Riding near the woods I came face to face with Penfold Smith. I recognized him immediately as I had his daughter. I called: “Good day.” He hesitated for a moment and then he swept off his hat and bowed.
“You’re Miss Frenshaw,” he said.
“Yes, that’s right. We last met in Nottingham.”
“Six years ago.”
He looked older, I thought. There were streaks of white in the black hair, and his face was lined, more weather-beaten.
“We shall never forget what you did,” he said.
“It was my father.”
“Yes, but you, too. I think you moved him to do what he did.”
“You know a great deal about us.”
“Gypsies learn about life. It’s wandering … seeing so many people.”
“I should have thought you weren’t long enough in any place to find out much about people. I saw your daughter a few days ago.”
“Yes—a good girl.”
“She has married, I suppose?”
He shook his head. “No, she has not married. She will take no man.”
“She is very beautiful… strikingly so.”
“I think so. I fear for her sometimes because she is so beautiful. But she knows how to take care of herself… now.” His eyes glinted.
“You have never heard anything of… ?”
“You mean Jake?” He shook his head. “It would not be possible. He is well though.”
“How do you know?”
“Leah knows. She has powers … the second sight. She knew that disaster was threatening us. Poor child, she did not know from what direction it was to come. She has grown in her powers. She was born with them. She is my seventh child. Her mother was a seventh child. In gypsy lore the seventh child of a seventh child is born with the power to see into the future.”
“I thought a number of gypsies had that. Fortune telling is one of their gifts, I believe.”
“Leah has special gifts. She has said she would like to look at your palm one day.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes, after she had seen you. She said there were powerful forces round you.”
I looked over my shoulder and he smiled.
“They are not for ordinary eyes to see. She said you interested her very much. The other young lady, too, but especially you.”
“I am sure Amaryllis would love to have her fortune told. So should I. Tell her to come to the house tomorrow afternoon. If it is fine we will be in the garden. If the servants hear she is telling fortunes they would not give her a moment’s peace.”
“I will tell her.”
“And you say she foretold … that terrible tragedy?”
“In a manner … yes. She knew that Jake was in danger, but she did not know that it would come through herself. Now she knows that Jake is well. He will come back, she says.”
“She is waiting for him,” I said. “Is that why she will not marry?”
“Perhaps. She keeps her secrets. But… she is waiting and she knows that one day he will come.”
“I hope he understood that I had no part in betraying him.”