They were peaceful days and there were long periods when I was lulled into a sense of security. My life with Jean-Louis was satisfactory. I knew my attitude toward him had changed since I had made that fateful visit to Eversleigh. I had been very solicitous towards him and he was immensely grateful and I believe he thought it was something to do with his disability. He loved me very tenderly and was always anxious to assure me of this. I knew I was lucky in my husband. I did sometimes wonder what life would have been like with Gerard—wild, passionate, stormy. There would have been jealousy perhaps, misunderstandings, quarrels and reconciliations. Life would have been lived on a different plane, but would our love have stood the stress? I wondered. Could such violent passion as that which we had shared go on? Surely its power must diminish. Sometimes I even thought it had been so overwhelming for me because it was illicit. I couldn’t understand myself yet. I still longed for that ecstasy I had shared so briefly with Gerard. That comes once in a lifetime, I told myself. You achieved it; you have recovered from it; you have had a miraculous escape. Be contented.

And I had my Lottie—my delightful wayward sprite of a child, who was, my mother was fond of saying, so unlike what I had been at her age. “You were such a good little thing, Zipporah,” she said often. “So easy to understand.”

So life went on. Uncle Carl coddled and contented through our clever strategy with his Jessie; myself a happy wife and mother who had succeeded in forgetting her own now long ago lapse; and my mother and Sabrina looking on with admiration at their darling’s preoccupation with work.

James Fenton said to me: “It is a good thing really that he is taking such an interest. It could be useful to have him working with us when he’s older, for Jean-Louis gets more tired than he will admit, and young Dickon does make himself useful.”

I knew what was in Dickon’s mind. He believed that one day Jean-Louis and I would go to Eversleigh and that he would inherit Clavering. Anything that was his would loom very important in his mind. Thus it was with Clavering. He saw it through new eyes.

There were long summer evenings after Lottie was in bed when we sat and talked—Jean-Louis, James Fenton and I. There were occasions when Dickon would join us; and if he did the talk was all about the estate.

One day a cousin of James’s called on him. He was a soldier and he had come from France and stayed a few days with James before going on to his family in the Midlands. James brought him to sup with us and we learned from him a great deal of what was happening on the Continent.

The war was still dragging on but, said James’s cousin Albert, both sides were getting tired of it and as no subsidies were being sent fighting was desultory. Each side seemed to spend the time in retreating and advancing and no progress was made.

“It’s a mess … as most wars are. It can’t go on … and it’s inconclusive anyway. They say there are negotiations beginning for peace.”

I was thoughtful. If there were peace, I thought, would Gerard come again?

“The people here are indifferent,” said James. “They see the war as something happening a long way off and therefore of no concern to them.”

“The taxes to pay for it are their concern,” his cousin reminded him.

“Well, there are always taxes for something.”

His cousin was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said: “Something is happening in France.”

“What?” I asked eagerly.

He turned to me, his brow puckering. “There’s a certain mood among the people. They resent the king so much that he dare not appear in Paris: He has had a road built between Versailles and Compiègne to bypass the city so that he need not ride through it.”

“You mean he is afraid of his people?”

“He is too indifferent to them to feel fear. He just despises them. He does not want to see them. Their problems are of no interest to him.”

“But surely he depends on their approval to hold his throne!”

“The French monarchy is different from ours … just as the people are. They are more formal … and yet they could be more terrible. They are more excitable than we are … more impulsive. Though I suppose the people here would rise up if provoked too far.”

“What happens there?” I asked. I was thinking of the Château d’Aubigné, the name of which was so engraved on my memory that I would never forget it.

“There is a subtle change. The king is so dissolute. He cares for nothing but his own pleasure. He leaves everything to the Pompadour, who is consequently hated and shares the blame with the king. He seems concerned only with his own debaucheries and the infamous Parc aux Cerfs is discussed and reviled throughout the country. There is the dauphin, whom the king hates. They say he does not wish to see him because he will be his successor and he cannot bear to think of death. Even the nobility is changing and the wealthy are buying themselves into the aristocracy. It isn’t the same. They haven’t the same sense of responsibility. I don’t like it. It makes me very uneasy.”

“Is this feeling general throughout France?” asked Jean-Louis.

“So many seem intent on nothing but their own pleasure. The king for one. It has been said that he was heard to remark when warned of signs of unrest, ‘Oh, it will last my time.’ ‘And after you, sire?’ he was asked. ‘After me,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, ‘the deluge.’”

“How terrible!” I cried.

“Oh, these things happen in countries,” said Jean-Louis. “Everything seems desperate and then there is a change … and prosperity comes and the dark days are forgotten.”

“I trust it will be so,” said James’s cousin.

While they were talking a caller arrived.

It was Hetty Hassock who had come to ask if James would call on her father in the morning when he was making his rounds.

James rose, smiling at Hetty.

“Well, of course I’ll come,” he said. “What time would suit your father? Say eleven o’clock?”

“That would suit him very well, I’m sure,” said Hetty. She was a very pretty girl about seventeen, I think, and rather different from the rest of the Hassock family. She had recently come to the farm, having been brought up by an aunt in London.

Hetty apologized for intruding and Jean-Louis assured her that she had done no such thing and he added: “Come and sit with us a moment, Hetty.” Hetty flushed a little and returned to the table. James looked pleased.

“Would you like to try this malmsey?” asked Jean-Louis. “We’re rather proud of it.”

Hetty declined gratefully but she sat down.

“How are you liking it at the farm?” I asked. “You must find it very different from London.”

“Oh yes, I miss the town … but everything is interesting here and I suppose I should be with my family.”

There were four Hassock girls and three boys. Hetty was quite different from all the others. I believed Farmer Hassock was very proud of her. I had heard him say only the other day “Our Het’s been brought up like a lady.”

While she sat there making light conversation I was struck by James Fenton’s expression. He was watching her with obvious pleasure. I thought, He’s halfway to falling in love with her—perhaps he is already there, and I felt pleased.

That night I mentioned it to Jean-Louis. He agreed with me that he had noticed.

“It would be a good thing for James to marry,” he said, “and I think Hetty would make him a good wife. She is intelligent as well as pretty and she is different from so many of the girls around here. More likes James himself. I’d be glad to see James marry. He’d feel more settled. Let’s hope something comes of it.”

The matter about which Farmer Hassock wanted to see James turned out to be the strip of land between his farm and that of Farmer Burrows. Long ago it appeared there had been some controversy about this particular spot because there was uncertainty as to which farm it had originally belonged. My father—who had been a lover of peace and who had really been more interested in gambling than the estate—had solved the problem by saying that neither should have it. Therefore it had been fenced off and lay idle for some years.

Now Farmer Hassock wanted a little more space for his wheat and he was sure that Farmer Burrows had forgotten all about the controversy which had been in the time of his father. He wondered whether he might take down the fence and take in this strip of land.

James and Jean-Louis discussed it for a while and they both agreed that to allow the land to lie idle was rather foolish when Hassock, who was a better farmer than Burrows in any case, could make good use of it.

“Let Hassock have it,” said James. “I’ll tell him to go ahead and prepare the land. It will need a bit of work after all these years. He should get a start on it right away.”

James rode over to the farm to tell Hassock the verdict and I had no doubt to have a word with Hetty while he was there.

It was a few days later when Dickon came over. We were at table still after the midday meal, for we liked to sit awhile and talk of the affairs of the estate and of the country as a whole.

Dickon appeared flushed and I was struck afresh by his handsome looks. He seemed to have grown a little every time I saw him.

He sat down unceremoniously and said: “Do you know what Hassock is doing? He’s taken down the fence of that no-man’s-land strip and is obviously intending to use it.”

“That’s right,” said James. “He’s going to extend his wheat field.”

“But it’s not his.”

“He’s been given permission,” said James.

“Who gave him permission?”

“I did,” answered James.

“But who said you might?” Dickon’s voice was cold and haughty.

Jean-Louis said quickly: “I did. James and I discussed it and decided it was foolish to let the land lie idle and Hassock was the one to make the best use of it.”

“I don’t agree,” said Dickon.

“You don’t agree,” cried James. He was less calm than Jean-Louis, and Dickon’s behavior was certainly provoking.

“No,” retorted Dickon, “I don’t. Burrows has as much right to that land as Hassock. I’ve told him so.”

“Dickon,” said Jean-Louis, “I know how much you care about the estate, and you have been very helpful, but James and I must decide on these matters. It is our job to run the estate profitably.”

“Hassock must be told to stop what he is doing immediately. James, you should tell him that before he goes too far.”

“The matter has been decided,” said James. “If Burrows is dissatisfied he had better come here to discuss it with Jean-Louis and me. There has been too much trouble in the past over that strip of land. It is very insignificant in any case.”

“I have told Burrows that he shall have it since Hassock has taken it into his head to filch it.”

“Filch it!” I could see that James’s temper was rising. “This is absurd. You have been helping us on the estate for a few months and you think that you are fit to manage it … going over our heads. We have had years of experience in these matters.”

Dickon stood up. “We shall see,” he said.

When he had left we looked at each other in amazement.

I said: “He has gone to my mother.”

“Lady Clavering will understand that we are managing the estate,” said James.

“I hope so. But she is inclined to indulge Dickon.”

James shook his head. “She will see the sense of this.”

“Shall I go over to see her this afternoon?” I asked.

“I’ll come with you,” said Jean-Louis.

My mother was delighted to see us as always and asked questions about Lottie, whom she hadn’t seen for two whole days, which seemed a long time to her.

“We’ve come to talk business,” I told her. “James is rather put out.”

“Oh yes … Dickon was saying that there had been a disagreement about that land. He’s given it to Burrows.”

“No,” I put in. “Jean-Louis and James had decided that Hassock should have it.”

“And he has already been given permission to use it,” added Jean-Louis.

“Oh, dear,” said my mother, “how tiresome these people are! Your father always said, Zipporah, that the land was almost useless.”

“Well, Hassock can make good use of it,” said Jean-Louis.

“And,” I added, “he has already been given permission to have it.”

“Oh, but Dickon has promised it to Burrows.”

“Mother,” I said, “Dickon has no right to promise anything. Just because he has been allowed to have a little insight into the way the estate is run he thinks it belongs to him. It’s yours, and Jean-Louis and James manage it. How can they do that successfully if this … boy comes in and tells them what to do.”