Dickon said: “He is doing what he wanted to do. You can’t stop people doing that, you know, Lottie. He’s got to live his own life.”
“What will become of him?”
“Charlot will do well,” said Dickon. “He’s that sort. He’ll soon rise to be a general in that rabble, you’ll see.”
David said dryly: “It seems to be doing surprisingly well for a rabble army.”
“Yes indeed,” agreed Dickon. “A surprise for us all. They’ve got some fight in them, those rebels. The French have always been excellent soldiers. I will say that for them.”
He was looking at Lottie tenderly. He would never feel the same for his sons as she did for hers. Dickon was too self-centred; he was not the man to form sentimental attachments. That was why his obsession with my mother was so remarkable; and all the more intense, I supposed, because his affections were not divided.
“Oh yes,” he went on, “Charlot has found his niche in the world—and his shadow Louis Charles with him. When this stupid war is over, when these bloodthirsty citizens of the Republic settle down, when sanity returns to France, reality will come with it. Then, Lottie, my love, you and I will pay a visit to France. We shall be graciously received by Monsieur le Général, sporting all the medals he has won… and you’ll be very proud of him.”
“Dickon, you are absurd. But you’re right. He does know how to take care of himself.”
They had taken the soup away and we were now being served with the roast beef.
“The roast beef of old England!” said Jonathan. “Nothing like it. How I have longed for it.” He pressed a little closer to me. “…among other things.”
“Nothing like an absence from the old country to increase one’s appreciation of it,” commented Dickon.
Aunt Sophie spoke little English and the conversation at the table was half English, half French. Jonathan’s French was like his father’s—extremely anglicised.
I said: “I wonder how you ever got along over there.”
He put his fingers to his lips and my mother said laughingly: “Do you think Jonathan would be defeated by a mere language? He’d override such obstacles. He’s like his father.”
Jonathan and Dickon looked at each other and laughed. There was a rapport between them which was lacking between Dickon and David. I supposed this was because they were so much alike.
“I hope you’ll be comfortable in the nursery suite,” said David to Sophie. He understood French very well indeed and spoke it moderately well, but his accent and intonation did not make him readily understood. I imagined that now Aunt Sophie was with us he would want to put that right. I smiled indulgently. He would want to practise his French with me. That was typical of him. He always wanted to master any intellectual exercise. Jonathan was the same with those matters which interested him, so they were alike in some ways. Jonathan, however, would never concern himself with such matters as perfecting himself in a language.
Sophie said: “Yes, thank you. I am comfortable. Those rooms suit my needs.”
Her mood was one of aloofness. I saw what she meant. The nursery was apart from the rest of the house just as her quarters in the Chateau d’Aubigné had been and her great desire had been to set herself apart from the rest of the family. I think that was why she always made me feel that there was something not quite normal about her.
“It is perhaps temporary,” she went on.
“Temporary?” I cried, “Oh, Aunt Sophie, are you thinking of staying only a short time in England?”
“No. I must stay here. There is no place for me or for Jeanne in France. We accept that.” She looked at Jonathan. “Oh, I am grateful… very grateful. We could not have gone on living like that for ever. It was necessary that we leave, and we could never have done so but for the daring of Messieurs Jonathan, your brother and Louis Charles.”
Jonathan inclined his head.
“They were very clever… very resourceful. Jeanne and I are forever grateful. But we are not penniless. You looked surprised, Claudine. But we are far from penniless. Jeanne has been very clever. We have brought a fortune out of France.”
“A fortune!” I cried.
All eyes were on Sophie. There was a faint flush in her cheeks. She said: “Jeanne is farsighted. She saw this coming. For a long time before the revolution came she had been collecting the jewels together… hiding them. She was good with her needle; she sewed them into our clothes… rings, brooches… pendants… all the priceless gems which I had inherited from my mother… jewels which had been in the family for generations. They are very valuable. We have them here safely. Monsieur Dickon has examined them. Monsieur Jonathan also. They assure me that I have enough to live on in comfort… affluence enough… for the rest of my life.”
“That’s wonderful!” I cried. “Clever, clever Jeanne.”
“She is more than clever,” said my mother, with tears in her eyes. “She is a good woman.”
“Dear Step-mama,” said Jonathan lightly, “you speak as though a good woman is something of a phenomenon.”
“Anyone as good and selfless as Jeanne—man or woman—is a rare creature,” said my mother.
“David, isn’t that wonderful?” I said.
“It must have been very risky,” replied David, “not only getting out of France, but bringing a fortune with you.”
“I like risks,” said Jonathan. “You know that, brother.”
“But such a risk!”
Dickon was looking at his son with approval. He, too, loved risks; he too would have brought that fortune out of France.
“I shall find a house,” said Sophie.
“That should not be difficult,” I put in.
“Somewhere near perhaps. Neither Jeanne nor I speak the language well, and we should feel safer under the protection of Eversleigh.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” I cried. “Then we can visit frequently. That’s if you invite us.”
She gave me a rather tender look. “I shall ask you to come to see me, Claudine,” she said.
“There, my dear,” said Jonathan again, touching my hand. “You are honoured.”
“We shall all visit you,” said my mother.
“Are there any houses near here?” said Sophie.
“The two nearest are Grasslands and Enderby. Grasslands is occupied, but Enderby is empty,” I said.
“Enderby!” cried my mother. “Claudine, you’re surely not suggesting Enderby!”
“I just said it was empty.”
“It’s a gruesome sort of house,” said my mother.
“Only because of the shrubs which grow round it,” pointed out David.
“It has an evil reputation,” said my mother.
Dickon and Jonathan laughed. “You are fanciful, Lottie,” said Dickon.
“No. I think this happens to houses.”
“Is it for sale?” asked Sophie.
“I am sure it is,” I said.
“Yes,” said Dickon, “the key is at Grasslands. That’s the nearest house.”
“David and I went in there a little while ago,” I said. “Didn’t we, David?”
“Oh? Did you get the keys?” asked Dickon.
“No. A latch was broken on one of the windows and we climbed through into the hall.”
“Such adventurous spirits!” said Dickon ironically.
“It’s a grim old place, Aunt Sophie,” I said.
“I tell you it is just a matter of cutting down the shrubs and letting in the light,” explained David. “I am sure that would make a world of difference.”
“I should like to look at it,” said Sophie.
“At least,” said my mother almost grudgingly, “it would be near us. And, as you said, you would not want to be too far away.”
“Perhaps tomorrow I shall look. I shall take Jeanne with me. She will know.”