Philippa Carr - The Adulteress

What a strange encounter that had been! I couldn’t stop thinking of him. A Frenchman. Perhaps that accounted for the elegance and strangeness, yet the manner in which he had risen from nowhere was explained by the lost fob. But it had certainly given me a shock at the time and I supposed I hadn’t recovered from that during the entire encounter.

I undressed thoughtfully; I was wide awake. My walk had done little to induce sleep. Everything about me was taking on an unreality. I could hardly believe that I had not been two nights in this place yet. I felt a sudden desire to be home where everything was quiet, and strange things did not happen.

I locked my door and went to the window to draw back the curtains as I liked to wake to the full light of day. He was standing there on the lawn looking up at the house. He saw me at once and bowed. I felt unable to move for some seconds and stood still, staring at him. He put his fingers to his lips and then threw his hand outward.

For a few seconds we stood still looking at each other. Then I turned abruptly and moved away from the window.

I was trembling, which was foolish; but he had a strange effect on me.

It was, I told myself, because I could not forget the way he had risen before my eyes. It had seemed so uncanny because I suppose it was on that haunted ground that a man was said to have been buried after he was murdered.

I blew out the candle and got into bed. But sleep evaded me. I kept going over the events of the day. I thought of Uncle Carl and his instructions and told myself I must get to the lawyer on the following day. But my nocturnal adventure imposed itself on those early impressions and I found myself going over it detail by detail.

Finally I rose and went to the window. I don’t know if I was foolish enough to expect he would still be there. Of course he was not.

I went back to bed but it was nearly dawn before I finally slept.

WHEN I AWOKE NEXT morning I had made up my mind how I would act. I would see my uncle at eleven o’clock, for if I failed to do that Jessie’s suspicions would be immediately aroused. So I had decided that I would choose the afternoon to go into the town and see Messrs. Rosen, Stead and Rosen. That would give me plenty of time, and when I saw Uncle Carl at eleven o’clock I could drop a hint to him as to when I should be going.

Jessie and Evalina had already breakfasted when I arrived downstairs, but that did not prevent Jessie’s coming in to talk to me as I ate and to help herself to a few more tasty morsels.

“You’ll be going along to see Lordy at eleven. I suppose.” she said.

I told her I would.

“He’ll be pleased, poor love. He’s so excited you came to visit. I do what I can to amuse him. …” I almost steeled myself for the nudge which was fortunately impossible because once more the table separated us, “but you know what it is. He’s tired sometimes. … Sometimes wanders in his mind a bit.”

I wasn’t sure of that and had a notion she was safeguarding herself in some way.

However, at eleven I was sitting at Uncle Carl’s bedside and I managed to let drop the information that I would explore the town that afternoon.

“It’s a good half an hour’s walk,” said Jessie. “Would you like them to take you in the carriage?”

“No,” I said quickly. I did not want any of the grooms reporting to her where I had been. “I would like to explore myself. It’s a voyage of remembrance for me. It’s like rediscovering my childhood.”

“Well, we want you to do just as you like … don’t we, Lordy?”

Uncle Carl pressed my hand understanding that that afternoon I should pay a call on the lawyers.

I felt I did not have to wait to see Jessie safely in the manager’s house for her afternoon rendezvous, but set out soon after one o’clock to walk into the town.

The road passed close to Enderby and I don’t think I was altogether surprised to come face to face with Gerard d’Aubigné In fact I had an idea that he had been watching for me.

He was as elegant in daylight as in twilight and he looked very much the same as he had last night except that his coat was of brown velvet but still in the swinging, almost flaunting, style which gave an impression of a charming aggressiveness.

He bowed and said: “I’ll confess I have waylaid you.”

“Oh … why?”

“Overcome by an urgent desire to see my charming ghost by the light of day. I had a horrible feeling that I might have imagined the encounter.”

“Even trespassing on our lawns?” I asked.

“What is a little trespass for a good cause? I had to see that you were safely home. Now where do you wish to go?”

“Actually I am on an errand for my uncle and am going into the town.”

“It is quite a long way.”

“Nothing much … half an hour’s walk.”

“I have an idea. My hosts have been so good to me. They have a most elegant little carriage … suitable for two or at most three including the driver. Two horses pull it along at a spanking pace. I suggest that I drive you into the town.”

“That’s kind of you but it really isn’t necessary.”

“Pleasant experiences do not have to be necessary. I should be desolate if you denied me this. I have used the carriage once or twice. It is an enchanting little vehicle. Come into the stables here and I will make it ready. We can be in town in less than half the time that it would take to walk and you will arrive fresh for your business.”

I hesitated and he immediately placed his arm through mine and drew me toward the house.

The mystery of Enderby seemed to envelop me—or was it his presence? I had never felt quite like this before … this excitement, this feeling that something very unusual was going to happen to me.

Enderby looked gloomy even in afternoon sunshine. There was no one in the stables and I was amazed by the deftness with which he made the carriage ready.

The two bay mares pawed the ground as though impatient to be off. He patted first one and then the other.

“Yes, old girls,” he said, “you know this is a special occasion, don’t you?”

Then he turned to me and helped me into the carriage, himself taking the driver’s seat.

Side by side we rattled along at a good speed. I sat back feeling as though I were in a dream, listening to the clop clop of the mares’ hooves and putting a wary hand on the papers in my pocket to make sure that they were still there.

We pulled up at an inn and there we alighted. He asked me where I had to go and when I told him said he would take me there, leave me, and if I would come to the inn when I had finished my business he would drive me back to Eversleigh.

I agreed to this and, leaving the inn, walked along the main street until we came to the offices of Messrs. Rosen, Stead and Rosen.

An elderly clerk rose to greet me, and when I told him that I came on behalf of Lord Eversleigh and wished to see Mr. Rosen I immediately aroused his interest and was conducted into the reception room. He was sorry to say that Mr. Rosen senior was out of the office for a few days—away on urgent business, but he was sure either Mr. Stead or young Mr. Rosen would be able to help me.

Young Mr. Rosen—who seemed anything but young to me, being a man in his middle forties—came in to greet me and when I explained why I had come, he took me into his private office and glanced at the instructions Uncle Carl had given me. He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “My father will be upset at not being here to meet you. He deals with all Lord Eversleigh’s business; but this seems to be a straightforward matter of the will so it will present no problems. I will call on him myself,” he went on. “I can bring one of the clerks with me to witness it. What is the best time?”

I felt embarrassed and said: “Oh … you cannot come to the house. That would not be a very good idea.”

He looked puzzled and I hurried on. “Lord Eversleigh does not want … people at the house … to know that he has made this will. It is for this reason that he invited me to come to Eversleigh and … er … arrange it for him.” I hurried on: “Are you aware of the state of affairs at Eversleigh Court?”

It was his turn to look faintly embarrassed. “I understand the estate is well managed and there is a housekeeper there.”

I decided that it was no time for veiled hints and said: “Do you know of the relationship between Lord Eversleigh and the housekeeper?”

He coughed and said: “Well …”

“The fact is,” I went on, “there is a very special friendship between them. I don’t know whether she has pretensions as to what will be left to her but Lord Eversleigh wishes the estate to remain in the family.”

“But naturally. It would be unthinkable …”

“At the same time he does not wish to offend his housekeeper. Apparently he relies on her.”

“I see … I see. So he does not wish it to be known that he is making this will.”

“Exactly.”

“And he is obviously not able to come into town to sign it.”

“I’m afraid not. It will have to be done at the house. I have not really thought how that can be brought about. It must be done in the housekeeper’s absence … that is Lord Eversleigh’s wish.”

“If you like to name a time …”

“I must think about it. Perhaps one afternoon. In the meantime if you will draw up the will I can consult Lord Eversleigh and see what arrangements we can arrive at. I’m afraid you must find this rather an odd situation.”

“My dear lady, in my profession we are constantly confronted by unusual situations.”

He smiled at me and went on: “I should like my father to deal with this matter. He has always taken charge of Lord Eversleigh’s affairs and knows more about what goes on at the Court than I do.”

“He is not here, though.”

“No, but I am expecting him back tomorrow. He will know the best way of dealing with the matter.”

“Thank you.”

“Perhaps you would look in again the day after tomorrow. I am sure the work will be done then and you will be able to see my father.”

This I agreed to do.

As he said good-bye he asked me if I had ridden into the town. “It’s quite a step from the Court,” he added. I told him that a neighbor had driven me in and would take me back. That satisfied him, so I left the office and made my way to the inn.

Gerard d’Aubigné was waiting for me and he greeted me with the news that he had taken the opportunity of ordering a tankard of cider apiece. “They have some good cakes straight from the oven—the innkeeper’s wife assures me—and I thought you would like a short rest before driving back.”

“That’s good of you.” I said, and he led me into the inn parlor, where the hot cakes were already being put on a table with two tankards of cider.

“Was the business successful?” he asked.

“As successful as I could hope.”

“You sound as though it was not entirely so.”

“It’s not completed, of course.” The cider was cool, a little heady, I thought; but perhaps that was the company, and rather to my surprise I found myself telling him the story.

“It sounds so absurd … when one speaks of it in the light of day.”

“Not at all absurd. Of course Lord Eversleigh cannot leave his estates to his Jessie; and of course he doesn’t want her to know he’s leaving them to someone else. It’s perfectly understandable.”

“But it seems so ridiculous. There is a peer of the realm, a man of substance … and he is afraid of his housekeeper!”

“Afraid of losing her. That is very different from being afraid of her. I’m afraid that you may disappear as suddenly as you came, but I’m certainly not afraid of you.”

“Oh, I thought it was clear now that I’m an ordinary mortal.”

“Far from ordinary,” he said. “Now tell me about it … the life with the good husband whom you so regretted you must leave behind.”

And I found myself telling him.

He listened very carefully as I, who was usually restrained told him of my wonderful father who had been killed in a duel, and how, ever since, we had lived quietly in the country and that I had married the companion of my childhood as everybody had expected and hoped I would.

“Do you always do what is expected of you?” he asked.

“Yes … I think perhaps I do.”

“That must please them all very much … but the main thing is that you should be pleased, is it not?”

“It has all worked out very well and happily for me,” I said.