“It’s terrible for Tom Gabriel… his home gone like that.”
“Don’t waste your sympathy on Tom Gabriel,” snorted my father. “He brought it all on himself.”
“What was his particular sin?” asked Peter.
“That which has been the ruin of many a man,” said my father. “Could never resist a gamble, Tom Gabriel couldn’t. When he was a boy he would be gambling with conkers and marbles. It was in his blood. God knows, old Gabriel had a good head on his shoulders. It was a fever with Tom Gabriel and it destroyed him and his farm. It is by no means an unusual story, I can tell you. There are some who never learn. I have seen gambling ruin more homes than anything I know.”
“You have never been a gambler, sir?” asked Peter.
“Only when I’m certain of winning.”
“That is not a gamble, Father,” I said.
“I’m telling you it’s a fool’s game,” retorted my father. He banged his fist on the table. “I would never have it in my house.”
“I don’t think any of us is likely to take it up,” said Claudine lightly. “You wouldn’t, would you, David?”
My mother laughed. “I doubt David would know one card from another.”
“As a matter of fact,” said David, “I know the whole pack. But I agree with my father. Risks should never be taken with anything that is important.”
“Well, Jonathan,” went on my father, “you’ve seen today what can happen to a man who gets caught up in all that foolishness.”
“Of course,” replied Jonathan, who could never resist taking the opposite view, “he might have won at the tables and instead of seeing his farm sold might have bought several others.”
My father’s fist once more came down on the table and this time the glasses rattled.
“Careful, Dickon,” murmured my mother.
“I tell you, young fellow, it’s a fool’s game. The chances of coming out on top are one in a million. Any sign of anyone here taking to gambling and they’d be out… like a shot.”
I noticed Peter was watching Jonathan intently and there was a glitter of amusement in his eyes. Jonathan was silent. He realized, as we all did, that my father’s vehemence on this matter was not to be treated lightly.
My mother, as she often did on such occasions, changed the subject, and the first thing she could think of was Napoleon’s defeat. It was a subject which had not yet grown stale and there was excitement over Wellington’s return to London.
“There will be galas and celebrations,” said my father. “It was like that with Nelson. Wellington has taken his place. He’s a Duke now. Well, it is good to see honours bestowed where they are deserved.”
“It will be a great homecoming for him,” said my mother. “I heard that he had been out of the country for five years.”
“A long time to be away,” said Peter. “I know how I feel when I make my periodic trips to London.” He smiled at Amaryllis and she smiled back while Claudine looked at them fondly.
“They say,” went on my mother, “that he is not exactly enamoured of his Duchess.”
“But his marriage was most romantic,” said Claudine. “It is true I believe that he fell in love with Lady Wellington… I suppose one must say the Duchess now … when he was a very young man. I heard that Lord Longford, her brother, at that time refused to accept Wellington as his brother-in-law because he had only his army pay.”
“I daresay he would feel differently about it now,” I put in.
“Well, there was no marriage and Wellington went to India and when he came back he found Catherine Pakenham unmarried—it was said because she had remained faithful to him, and he felt in honour bound to marry her, even after all those years.”
“Are you suggesting that he did not want to?” asked Peter.
“That’s the story. He is supposed to have certain lady friends.”
My father rapped the table. “This is a hero. He has just defeated the menace of the world. Let him have his relaxation in whatever way he wishes. It is his reward.”
“I’d rather have a faithful husband than a hero,” said Amaryllis looking at Peter.
“Well, let’s hope that everyone will be satisfied,” said my father. “Now what I was saying was that there will be fine doings in London when the Duke arrives. I think it would be a good idea to take a little trip, a party of us.”
“Oh, it would be lovely!” I cried; then I saw Edward glance at me and I wished I had not spoken.
David said he could not go. “Estate matters,” he murmured.
My father nodded and Claudine said: “I shall stay at home, too.”
“You, my dear, will no doubt be one of the party.” My father smiled at my mother who replied: “Yes, indeed.”
Edward said: “You must go, Jessica.”
“Oh, I’m not sure.”
“Yes, you must. You are too much at home. I want you to go.”
“I’ll see,” I said.
“Amaryllis?” said my mother.
“Well, there is Helena.”
“Oh nonsense,” said my mother. “The nanny is excellent and your mother will be at home. You could leave for a few days.”
“Yes, do come,” said Peter.
She smiled and said: “Well, perhaps I could.”
“Well, that’s settled,” said my father. “Lottie and I, Amaryllis and Peter and Jessica. Jonathan?”
“Certainly,” said Jonathan. “I can’t wait to be in the big city.”
“It will make a pleasant party,” said my mother.
“I think the Duke will be there on the twenty-third,” said my father. “Suppose we went two days earlier?”
“So be it,” replied my mother.
When Tamarisk heard we were going to London she begged to come with us. I had not at first thought of taking her. To tell the truth I was a little afraid of having charge of her. At Grasslands I felt relieved by the presence of Leah and Miss Allen—and to have the entire responsibility thrust onto my shoulders was daunting.
“I want to go … so much,” she said. “Why can’t I go? What difference does it make to you?”
“If I could be sure that you would behave …”
“Oh, I will, I will. Only let me come. I long to see London and the great Duke.”
“There wouldn’t be room for Leah or Miss Allen in the carriage.”
“They won’t mind staying behind.”
I sighed. “If you will promise me to be good …”
“I will be good … I will”
So it was arranged.
My mother was dubious. “The child can be such a responsibility. And, after all, she is no relation of ours.”
“She is Dolly’s child,” Claudine reminded her.
“Yes, and of a wandering gypsy,” added my mother.
“She is mixed up with the family because Aunt Sophie adopted her,” I reminded them. “And she does own Enderby. She really is in a way a member of the family.”
“I wish she were more like the rest of us.”
“She’ll change perhaps. And she has promised to be good.”
It was a lovely summer’s morning when we set out—my mother, Tamarisk, Amaryllis and I in the carriage with my father, Jonathan and Peter on horseback.
And so we came to London.
Tamarisk watched our approach in silent wonderment. She sat quietly demure, her hands folded in her lap. How lovely she is I thought, when she is peaceful like that particularly! I could be very fond of her if she were always thus.
We arrived at the house and the following day Peter, Amaryllis, Jonathan and I took Tamarisk sightseeing. We sailed up the river as far as Greenwich. Later we walked in the park. Tamarisk was true to her promise and was on her best behaviour.
My mother, Amaryllis and I took advantage of being in town to shop; Peter disappeared, as he said, on business and my father was likewise engaged. Jonathan once more took Tamarisk on the river and gave her a whitebait supper. She came back with shining eyes and I think it was the first time I had seen her look completely happy.