“Of course not. But it seemed … so awful, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I know. You are so good … so honest.”

“I’m not. I’m not. But going off like that … Please, please, Gervaise, don’t let us do anything like that again.”

“We won’t,” he said fervently. “I promise we won’t.”

He had been so wonderful to me. I had expected too much. People were not models of perfection. In a way I loved him more for his weakness. It seemed to strengthen me. I was no longer the innocent young girl to be led and guided. I had my responsibilities; and I was going to look after him.

I would make him see the risks and follies of gambling.

I was very innocent still.

I had a letter from Madame Bougerie thanking me for the money. She had known, of course, that it must have been something pressing which had made us leave so unexpectedly and never for one moment had she put a wrong construction on this. She understood perfectly and she hoped we would visit the auberge again, when we should be very welcome.

I did not suppose for one moment that she had not suspected the worst of us, but that was the diplomatic way of dealing with the matter and Madame Bougerie would always know how to do that. However, the incident had been brought to a satisfactory close as far as the auberge was concerned; and I was sure, in my new role as my husband’s guide and helpmeet, that where money was concerned such a thing would never happen again.

I gave myself up to the pleasure of househunting. This was particularly agreeable because Morwenna shared it with me. It seemed the most delightful coincidence that we were in London, both recent brides, looking for houses which were being given to us by indulgent fathers.

We laughed over this and when one of us went to look at a house, the other was always there.

We inspected numerous residences. Some would be too small, some too large; some were too far from the center of town and neither Justin nor Gervaise would like that. There was, we discovered, a similarity between our husbands. They were both what were called men about town. Justin appeared to have a private income from his family; Gervaise had an allowance from his. So it seemed inevitable that we should, on so many occasions, become a party of four.

After much preoccupation with Adam doorways and spiderweb fanlights, Regency and Queen Anne, we found our houses. They were not far apart. Morwenna’s was Regency with a charming wrought iron balcony on the first floor; ours was of a slightly earlier period—small but a model of Georgian elegance.

Our parents came to London and we had a pleasant time shopping for the furniture, the Pencarrons and my parents vying with each other in what they wanted to do for their darling daughters.

It was a very happy and merry time; and both Morwenna and I were examples of newly wedded and decidedly contented wives.

Within a few months we were installed in our respective houses. Grace was naturally a great help and helped us choose colors for carpets and curtains, throwing herself into the project with the utmost enthusiasm; and the days sped by.

During this time the Prince Consort died. A feeling of gloom swept over the nation. Those who had been highly critical of him during his lifetime now saw him as a model of virtue. As for the poor Queen she was prostrate with grief and shut herself away, refusing to appear in public.

We dined often with Morwenna and Justin and they with us. Morwenna sang rather pleasantly and I played the pianoforte—not well, but adequately. Justin had quite a good tenor voice, and Gervaise sang out of tune which caused a certain amount of merriment. We enjoyed what we called our musical evenings, but we soon realized that the men were restive. They preferred to play cards which neither Morwenna nor I had any gift for.

We liked amusing games which did not require too much concentration and very often we would leave the men together. The first time I was amazed and a little disturbed to realize that they played for money.

Gervaise, I remember, was in good spirits when they first did this. He had taken quite a bit from Justin.

I did not like it. “Why?” I said. “He was a guest in our house.”

Gervaise looked at me in astonishment and burst out laughing.

“Of course, darling. We gave him a wonderful evening. He enjoyed it thoroughly.”

“Enjoyed losing money!”

“It was all part of the fun. I have discovered he likes a good gamble.”

“I don’t suppose he likes losing money.”

“Well, naturally we all prefer to win.” He seized me and danced round the bedroom with me. “You are a funny little thing, Angelet.”

“Why?”

He took my chin in his hands and kissed me tenderly. “Such quaint ideas! Most men like a game of chance, you know.”

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose they do.”

But it did occur to me that both Gervaise and Justin liked it better than most.

After that there were often cards. When they came to dinner or we went to them I had the idea that they could not wait to get to the card table.

They played a lot of poker. I watched them sometimes with that light in their eyes and that feverish color in their cheeks. It was more than excitement. It was obsession. It worried me a little. I used to hope that neither of them would win and they would both end just as they started.

I did gather that Justin won very often. Gervaise would shrug his shoulders.

“All have their ups and downs,” he said.

“You seem to have more downs than ups with Justin,” I commented.

“It’s the way of things. It will change. It always does. The exciting thing about luck is that it is unpredictable. That’s why they call it Lady Luck. It’s like women.”

“Do you find me unpredictable?”

He put his arms round me. “Of course not. Didn’t I tell you, you were unique. That’s why I love you.”

I could often forget my misgivings when I was with Gervaise; he had a convincing way of making light of difficulties.

I had thought at first that Justin and Gervaise were very much alike. They were in some ways, of course; their style of life; their affability towards everyone; their love of gambling. Neither of them worked. I realized I had been used to people’s working around me. There had always been problems on the Cador estates and my father had frequently been busy; Mr. Pencarron was deeply concerned with the mine; our friends in the two Poldoreys were lawyers or doctors; Uncle Peter was immersed in his business; Matthew was at the House; Peterkin and Frances with their Mission. But Gervaise and Justin were different in this.

Justin was considering, he said. He was going to do something. He had arrived in this country from America not long ago. He had been involved with the production of cotton over there. He was, as he said, feeling his way. He wanted to do something but he was not yet sure what. Gervaise had no such pretensions. He was quite content with life as it was. He had the belief that one day he would make such a killing at the card tables that his fortune would be made.

I did try to reason with him sometimes. I said: “If you made a fortune at the card table you would immediately risk it again.”

“Yes. And win an even greater fortune.”

I said: “Do you forget what happened to your ancestor?”

“I was never allowed to. It was preached as Holy Writ in our household.”

“Well then, perhaps it is as well to keep it in mind.”

He always laughed at me when I was serious. Sometimes I found it faintly irritating; but he could always charm me out of that mood.

We were frequent visitors at the house in the square. Both Aunt Amaryllis and Helena took a motherly interest in us—Amaryllis, I suppose, because that was her way with all the young members of the family and Helena because she had “brought us out.”

I enjoyed these dinner parties. Conversation was always lively, particularly when Uncle Peter was present. He and his daughter-in-law Frances often sparred, but I think he admired her as he did all people who lived energetically.

Politics were often the subject of the discourse and I wished that Matthew and Uncle Peter would differ now and then; but Matthew always agreed with Uncle Peter’s views.

At this time he was deploring the continued premiership of Palmerston.

“Surely it’s time he retired,” said Uncle Peter. “If he did, I think we should see a return of the party and office for you.”

Matthew said he would never retire. “He’ll die in harness. That is the old man’s way. Sometimes he looks as if he is half asleep or wholly so. He sits there on the bench with his eyes half closed … a real dandy in his frock coat and light gray trousers, wearing his gloves. He always wears his gloves. You’re certain he hasn’t heard a word of the debate. Then he’ll get to his feet … You know that way of his, poking fun at things … getting them laughing … and then he’ll somehow get the vote going the way he wants it.”

“A remarkable man,” said Uncle Peter. “He should have been with us.”

“That’s true,” agreed Matthew. “Who else could overcome all that tittle-tattle about his love affairs? Who would believe that a Prime Minister could be nicknamed Cupid?”

I loved to hear those little anecdotes of people whose names I knew so well. So those dinner parties were always a delight. Gervaise enjoyed them too. Sometimes I felt that Uncle Peter saw too much. I believe he knew about Gervaise’s gambling for one day he said to me: “You want to keep a tight hand on that husband of yours. He’s too fond of the tables.”

Uncle Peter should know. He had made his fortune out of those clubs where gambling—among other diversions—was in full swing.

He was very watchful of Justin, and I was sure that Justin puzzled him more than Gervaise did.

There came one evening at the house in the square which was to change our lives, although I did not know it then.

They had been discussing Palmerston’s increasing age again and expressing some anxiety for the health of Lord Derby who must surely defeat him at the next election; then they went on to the antics of Benjamin Disraeli whose sights were set on the highest post of all.

Then Uncle Peter said suddenly: “By the way, I have heard from Benedict.”

I saw Gervaise glance at me. I started, but not with that apprehension which I had known before my confession to Gervaise. He had convinced me that I was in no way to blame and that it would be sensible for me to put the incident right out of my mind.

Uncle Peter went on: “He writes rarely. I don’t think it has been as easy as he at first thought it would. But now it seems there has been a breakthrough.”

He explained to Gervaise and Justin. “Benedict, my grandson … an earlier family … is a very go-ahead young man and had this notion of going out to Australia when he heard gold had been found there.”

“That was a long time ago,” said Aunt Amaryllis.

“Yes, it must be now. Benedict is not a letter-writing man and he certainly wouldn’t communicate when times were hard. But I must say that he is a sticker. He went to Australia convinced that he would come back with a fortune and he is the sort who wouldn’t want to return without one. That’s why he is still out there.”

“Well,” said Matthew, “there hasn’t been a fortune yet.”

“He writes and says that there have been difficulties, but he thinks he’s on a good strike now. There’s a lot of hard work to be done, it seems, but his luck is changing. He says he has been scratching a living from the goldfields so far but he was always hopeful … and now it looks as though those hopes are about to be realized.”

“In what part of Australia is all this happening?” asked Justin.

“It’s somewhere north of Melbourne.”

“I remember what a lot of talk there was about finds there,” said Justin. “It was very exciting. It must be more than ten years ago. There was a similar sort of thing in America. But that was somewhat earlier, I think. A man comes across it … there’s a lot of talk … and the Rush is on. Someone did very well at a place called Golden Point, I believe. That was in Australia. He made a vast fortune. People left everything to go out there. They thought they were coming back millionaires.”

“And did they?” I asked.

“Some of them did.”

“Well, let’s hope Benedict is successful,” said Uncle Peter.

“Somehow I don’t think he will come home until he is. He’s got that bulldog tenacity. Once he gets hold of an idea he won’t let it go. He’ll succeed or stay out there for the rest of his life … trying to.”