‘It’s a real English tree,’ he said. ‘It has been here since history began. Did you know that the Druids had a very special respect for it? They used to perform their religious rites under it and courts of justice were held beneath its branches.’
‘I believe,’ said Anita, ‘that some of these trees live for two thousand years.’
‘That’s so,’ answered Benjie. ‘And our ships are made from the rough timber of these trees. Hearts of oak, they say our ships have.’
I was sure that while he talked of the trees he loved he forgot his sorrow.
Anita wondered why the willow wept and told us that the aspen shivered because from its wood Christ’s cross had been made and it had never been able to rest in peace since. She talked of the mistletoe, which was the only tree which had not promised not to harm Baldur, the most beautiful of all the Northern Gods, so that the mischievous Loki had been able to slay him with it.
‘I can see, Miss Harley,’ said Benjie, ‘that you have a romantic approach to nature.’
‘And I can see no harm in that replied Anita.
Benjie laughed, I think for the first time since the accident.
We stopped at inns and drank cider and ate hot bread with ripe cheeses, and pies straight from the oven. Benjie talked about the estate, which was his sole responsibility now. I could see that he was seeking something which would absorb his interest and help him to get over his bereavement.
I talked about him to Anita.
‘He’s different from Jeremy,’ I said. ‘Jeremy nurses his troubles and although he is happy about being married to Damaris, it isn’t enough to make him forget that he was wounded in the war.’
‘The pain is always there to remind him of that,’ replied Anita.
‘Yes, whereas Benjie’s pain is in remembering and seeing the rooms where they used to live. People can get away from things like that. Whereas Jeremy can’t get away from the pain in his leg. It’s always there.’
I thought then that we ought to get back because poor Jeremy would be very unhappy without Damaris. I wanted to see him, to give him the comfort my presence brought to him. I knew it did, for I often saw him look at me, remembering, I was sure, his adventure with Damaris when they had brought me out of Jeanne’s cellar. Damaris could never have done that without his help and every time Jeremy remembered that it lifted his spirits.
‘Benjie,’ I said, ‘why don’t you come back to Enderby with us?’
‘I would enjoy coming,’ he replied, ‘but you see, there is the estate.’ I knew he meant it was no use to run away. He had to stay and face his lonely life.
We went back and arrived at the end of September when the leaves were turning to bronze and the fruit was ripening on the trees. Anita and I went to the orchards and climbed ladders to gather it while Smith helped us load the barrows and Damon sat watching us with his head on one side, bounding about now and then to show his joy because we were all together.
Priscilla came over and she and Damaris made jam and preserves. It was a normal autumn apart from the lingering sadness. Arabella missed Harriet so much, which was strange because she had often been sharp with her in their encounters and I had always had the impression that there was a great deal she resented about Harriet.
Even Great-Grandfather Carleton seemed to regret her loss and he had always openly disliked her. As for Priscilla, she was very sad. I learned later how Harriet had helped her when Carlotta was born.
‘We all have to go in time,’ said Arabella. ‘Sooner or later, and sooner for some of us.’
Damaris hated to hear her talk like that. She said it was nonsense and she was going to see that her grandmother lived as long as Methuselah.
Another year passed. I was now ten years old and there was a great deal of talk about the armistice which was going to put an end to the war.
Priscilla said it was about time too. Why we should concern ourselves with who sat on the throne of Spain was past her understanding.
Great-Grandfather Carleton just looked at her and, shaking his head, uttered his favourite condemnation, which was: ‘Women!’
‘If they really come to peace,’ said Damaris, ‘there will be free traffic between England and France.’ She looked at Jeremy. ‘I should like to go to Paris. I’d like to retrace our footsteps.’
‘A sentimental journey,’ said Jeremy, smiling at her in the way I loved to see him smile. I knew that the pain wasn’t troubling him when he looked like that and he was rather pleased with life temporarily and not resentful at all.
‘I wonder what became of Jeanne,’ mused Damaris. ‘I hope she was all right.’
‘She’s the sort who can look after herself,’ Jeremy reminded her.
‘Oh yes. I shall never forget how she looked after Clarissa.’
‘I am not likely to either,’ replied Jeremy.
Damaris was very happy. She was pregnant again. ‘This time,’ she said, ‘I shall take the utmost care.’
The doctor said she must rest a good deal and remember that her health had never been quite what it should have been ever since she had had fever years ago; and childbearing was an arduous matter even for the healthy.
Damaris was radiant. So was Jeremy. The shadows were lifting. This baby was of the greatest importance. If they could have a baby my responsibility towards them would be lifted. Strange, that I should come to think of it as a responsibility, but I did, for I now knew that the journey to France to bring me home had been the beginning of a new relationship between them. Before that they had been two unhappy people. I was glad to have played such a part in their lives—but the deep responsibility which I felt towards them seemed to grow with every passing day. Now I felt I must look after Benjie too, for long ago I had left him—not that I had had any choice in the matter, but if I had I should have gone willingly with Hessenfield; and thus I had deprived Benjie of a daughter.
Christmas was at hand. Arabella insisted that we should all go to Eversleigh Court. Benjie must come, she said, and he promised to do so.
Damaris said we must do all we could to cheer him, for Christmas was a time when those who were lost were remembered with particular poignancy. I sensed that everyone was a little too bright, trying to pretend that this was going to be a Christmas like any other.
Anita and I went into the woods to gather holly and ivy. We hunted for mistletoe and even Smith helped bring in the Yule log. Dear old Damon seemed to be extra excited about it. He had his dear ones safe—that was Jeremy, Damaris, Smith and myself—and as long as we were there he was happy.
Arabella said we must stay at the Court and not think of going home until Twelfth Night, even though we were so close, and that applied to Priscilla and Leigh also.
We had decorated Enderby Hall even though we were not going to be there. I heard one of the maids say: ‘What’ll the ghosts think, I wonder?’
‘They won’t like it’, prophesied another.
They would not believe that there was not something malevolent lurking in Enderby.
‘It’s a shame to leave it,’ I said to Damaris. ‘It looks so lovely.’
‘Your great-grandmother wouldn’t hear of it,’ she said. ‘It’ll be nice to come home to and Smith will be here to enjoy it.’
‘Smith and Damon with him,’ I said. ‘I shall ride over on Christmas morning to give them their presents.’
‘Dear Clarissa,’ said Damaris. ‘You’re a good girl.’
It wasn’t really goodness, I pointed out. I would want to see Smith and Damon. And I thought that the atmosphere at Eversleigh might be a little oppressive without Harriet and Gregory.
‘You’re getting too introspective,’ laughed Damaris. Then she ruffled my hair and went on: ‘Just think. Next Christmas, I shall have my baby. I find it hard to wait until April.’