As for Aimée, she came to the nursery somewhat infrequently and seemed perfectly happy that her son should remain in Nanny Goswell’s care. She ignored Sabrina until the incident of the cards.
Sabrina had a scrapbook in which she delighted. I was pleased to see her so interested in something and she and I would discuss together where the pictures she collected should be stuck in. We would spend happy times matching one colour with another and fitting them in. She collected all the prints we could find, together with old songs and ballads and cuttings from the papers. Many happy hours were spent with the glue pot beside the open book; and sometimes I would say: ‘Let’s look at the scrapbook,’ and she always eagerly agreed.
We were having a dinner party, one of those which did not make me very happy, for there would be play, of course, and I knew that the stakes would be high. I sometimes wondered whether Lance would gamble with the house itself
On these occasions Lance was always a little abstracted. He was perfectly charming, but it was quite clear that his thoughts were not with me.
I said to him as we dressed: ‘I am a little worried about Aimée.’
Was it my fancy, or did he seem suddenly alert?
‘Whatever for?’ he asked quickly. ‘She seems happy enough.’
‘Does she gamble for high stakes?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, it’s gambling again, is it? Well, I’d say… moderate.’
‘Does she win?’
‘She’s naturally lucky. Some people are. But not always, of course.’
‘Did she pay you back what she borrowed from you… to start her off?’
‘Oh yes. She soon did that. I’d say that she had far more than usual luck. At one time she was very fortunate indeed.’
Yes, I thought, and had a quick vision of her slipping a card from her petticoat pocket to those she was holding.
He laughed. ‘She has some notion of making enough to set up a house for herself and Jean-Louis. I have told her her home is here as long as she wants, it. I could say no less for your half-sister.’
‘Thank you, Lance. You are very good to me… and Aimée.’
He came over and kissed me. I saw his reflection in the glass, elegant, graceful, like someone playing a part on a stage. He could be trusted always to do what was correct in the etiquette of good manners.
‘My dear, it is you who are good to me.’
‘I believe you would do a lot to make me happy, Lance.’
‘I’d be glad of the opportunity.’
‘Except one thing. You would never give up gambling for me.’
‘Leopards can’t change their spots, my darling, and gamblers can’t give up the game.’
‘I thought not,’ I said.
‘I know you have never liked it,’ he went on, ‘but I couldn’t give it up if I tried. It’s a spell that was laid on me at birth. When I was eight I would bet with stable boys on a couple of beetles trundling along the ground. It’s innate, it’s irredeemable. I’d do it for you if I could, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be myself.’
‘I understand, Lance.’
‘And you’ll forgive me for it?’ He took my chin in his hands and smiled at me.
‘If you’ll forgive me for being a bore and constantly nagging you about it.’
‘I know it is only your concern for my welfare and, bless you, my darling, I’m grateful for that.’
He looked so handsome and rueful that I felt ashamed of my vague dissatisfaction and my suspicions, my vague regrets for Dickon.
Dinner was lively as usual and immediately afterwards they went to the card room to play. I went in with them, as was my custom, in order to see them settled before I slipped away to bed. The cards were on the tables and the guests were seating themselves before them. I watched Aimée. I had never been able to see her at a card table without wondering. There was now an avid, excited look in her eyes which I had noticed so often in Lance’s.
There was a sudden cry of amazement. I swung round. Lance was holding a pack of cards in his hands and trying to separate them. Someone called out from one of the other tables: ‘They’re stuck together!’
There was consternation. The cards were kept in a drawer in this room. The whole household knew this.
Even as I stood there I understood.
‘What the devil…’ Lance was saying, as near anger as he could possibly show himself to be. ‘What mischief is this?’
‘Are they all the same?’ I asked.
‘It appears so.’
‘Yes, they are,’ said one of the guests.
‘These are the same,’ pointed out another.
Lance cried out to one of the servants in a voice I had never heard before: ‘Bring more cards.’
Fortunately there were plenty of cards in the house and these were immediately brought out and the game began.
As I came out of the room I saw a flash of white on the staircase. I went up to Sabrina’s room. She was lying on her bed with the bedclothes about her face. I went over to her and pulled them back. Her eyes were shut fast in pretended sleep.
‘It’s no use, Sabrina,’ I said, ‘I know you’re awake. I saw you on the stairs.’
She opened her eyes and looked at me. She was trying to suppress her laughter.
‘It wasn’t really very funny,’ I said.
‘It was,’ she retorted defiantly.
‘They were very angry.’
‘Was he?’
‘Very.’
She looked satisfied.
‘Sabrina… why?’
She was silent, smiling.
‘You mustn’t do things to hurt people,’ I said.
‘I didn’t. I did it because you don’t want them to play cards. They couldn’t if they were all stuck together. What’ll he do?’
‘He may speak to you.’
That made her laugh again. ‘I don’t care for him.’
‘You should.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re living in his house and he’s fond of you.’
‘He’s not fond of me. He’s not fond of anyone. He’s fond of cards.’
I sat by her bed thoughtfully. I wondered if I was ever going to change Sabrina. Suddenly she was out of bed and clambering on to my lap.
‘Clarissa. You’re not cross with me? Say you’re not. I did it for you. You don’t like those cards… so I did it for you.’
‘Oh, Sabrina, I wish you hadn’t.’
‘He’s angry,’ she said, her face against my hair. ‘Perhaps he’ll send me away. Come with me, Clarissa. Let’s go away. Far away. Let’s run away.’
‘Of course he won’t want you to go. He’ll forgive you.’
‘I don’t want him to.’
‘No, Sabrina, please…’
‘Tell me a story.’
I hesitated. Then I began a story which had a strong moral in it.
I sat with her until she slept. Then I crept away. It was late when Lance came up. I couldn’t tell from his expression whether it had been successful play, for although he might be elated by a big win, he was never depressed by losses.
Imperturbability when things were not good was for him the essence of good manners and that was a code he followed unswervingly.
He did not mention the incident of the cards, so I did. He burst out laughing.
‘I suppose it was that minx Sabrina up to her tricks,’ he said; and that was all.
I loved him dearly then. He was incapable of rancour, and the anger he had felt at the time of discovery had completely passed. He had dismissed the matter from his mind.
It was after she had had breakfast next morning that Sabrina came down for her riding lesson looking adorable in a brown riding habit and a cocked hat to match. She looked triumphant and aggressive and clearly expected to be punished for her behaviour of the previous night.