There seemed nothing to do but wait. I had always been able to see several sides to a question. It sometimes had the effect of making me hesitant because one was never sure which way to act for the best. People who had definite ideas need not hesitate. They were sure they were right even when they were wrong. But f could never be entirely sure.
As I saw it, Jessie was immoral: when she had been Uncle Carl’s mistress she was also that of his agent. But at the same time she had provided comfort such as he longed for. The three of them had been happy. Whereas had she done the honorable thing and left Uncle Carl he would have been miserable. It was the same with Evalina. There was no doubt that she had made Andrew Mather very happy. If she was indulging in sexual adventure outside her marriage, as long as Andrew didn’t know …
It seemed mixed morality in a way. After all, I had the example of my own lapse before me.
So I remained undecided. I went back to the house. At dinner Dr. Cabel was as affable as ever toward me so I presumed Jessie had not said anything about my suggesting calling in other advice. Dickon was vivacious and said he was going over to Grasslands in the afternoon.
“Andrew likes me to enjoy his treasures,” he said looking at me mischievously.
I walked toward Enderby hoping that I should accidentally meet one of the Forsters. I was unlucky. I just stood by the palings looking at that incredibly gloomy piece of wasteland and hoping for a sign to tell me what to do.
After supper I went to visit Uncle Carl again.
“He is a little better today,” said Dr. Cabel as we went up to Uncle Carl’s room. “I think your coming has done something for him. I think you could stay a little longer with him. Let’s see how we go … shall we?”
He was lying there, blotched hands on the counterpane, his fingers twitching a little as I sat down. An indication, I thought, that he wanted me to take his hand.
I did so.
“Uncle Carl,” I said, “it’s Zipporah.”
His eyes were half closed … I could see that his mouth was drawn up at one side. It made him look unlike the man I had known. His nose looked sharper … I thought his face looked a little fuller. But it was his eyes I had always noticed about Uncle Carl—those lively dark eyes—and now the lids were drawn down over them and he wasn’t like Uncle Carl anymore. “Zipporah …” he whispered.
“Dear Uncle Carl. I came when I heard you weren’t well. You’re better now. … Able to see me … able to tell me you know I’m here.”
He pressed my hand and nodded.
“Good …” he said, “good people …”
“Yes.” I said. “You are well looked after.”
“Good doctor … friend …”
His hands fluttered. He groaned. “Don’t go. … Good Ralph … Mustn’t …”
I presumed Ralph to be Dr. Cabel. It seemed that he had had some inkling that I had suggested another doctor be called.
I said: “No, no … everyone you want will be here …. It’s all right.”
I felt a great desire to soothe him for he had lifted his head slightly and it was swaying from side to side.
“Rest,” I said.
Dr. Cabel was beside me.
“Now, old fellow,” he said. “I’m here. Your old friend Ralph is with you all the time. I’m not going to leave you. All’s well. There! You trust me, don’t you?”
He nodded to me. And I got up.
“Take his hand,” he whispered.
I took it and kissed it.
“Good night, dear uncle,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He was lying back with his eyes closed.
I went to my room but before I had mounted the stairs to the next floor I heard the doctor and Jessie come out of the room.
Dr. Cabel was saying angrily: “What did you say to him? Did you tell him I was going? You should have had more sense.”
Jessie spoke almost tearfully. “I just said that we might call in another doctor … as well … two heads are better than one. … I didn’t think he understood.”
“You know very well he takes in a lot. I would pack my bag tomorrow … if I thought I could safely leave him.”
“Oh, Dr. Cabel … please … please … don’t. I was just talking it over with Mistress Ransome. It just seemed like an idea.”
“The great idea is to keep his mind at rest. I understand him. I’ve known him for years. I thought he was going to be so good tonight. I did want Mistress Ransome to be able to talk to him a little. For heaven’s sake, Mistress Stirling, be careful what you say in his presence.”
“I will … oh, I will.”
I went into my room and shut the door.
I felt guilty but my uneasiness outweighed my guilt.
Next morning I walked into the town and called on Rosen, Stead and Rosen. I was immediately shown into the office of Mr. Rosen senior. He greeted me with as much warmth as I was sure he was capable of showing and begged me be seated.
“It is very pleasant to see you here again, Mistress Ransome,” he said. “Tell me, how is Lord Eversleigh?”
“I see very little of him. He is very ill, you know.”
“I do know that, but there is a doctor in residence, which is very comforting.”
“Yes, he was an old friend of Lord Eversleigh … now retired and so it is possible for him to give up all his time to look after my uncle.”
“Splendid! Of course, I doubt very much whether this state of affairs will last. A man in Lord Eversleigh’s condition … Ah well, he is not a young man.”
“I wondered about one or two things. Have you visited Eversleigh?”
“My nephew went some time ago … soon after Lord Eversleigh had his seizure. He saw the doctor. Lord Eversleigh was scarcely in a state to see anyone, and it was agreed that we go on as we had been doing for some time. Lord Eversleigh had given us power of attorney, so the bills came to us and we pay the salaries of the staff … as we had been doing for some time.”
“I see. I did wonder about certain things.”
“For the time being everything seems to be in order.”
“You are satisfied with the way in which the house is being run? I mean … expenses are not excessive.”
“Indeed no. The … er … housekeeper seems to be a woman of good sense who manages the household quite skillfully. The doctor takes no remuneration at all. I gather he is a man of means. He told my nephew that he had known Lord Eversleigh for many years.”
“Yes, that is so. I just wanted to make sure that you were satisfied that there was nothing … unusual about what was happening.”
“It is not an ideal situation, but I think in the circumstances the arrangements couldn’t be improved on. The accounts are more or less what they have always been. I have no reason to believe that the housekeeper is not running the-house in just the same manner as when Lord Eversleigh was … er … compos mentis, in a manner of speaking.”
“I see.”
“I am relieved that you have come to see Lord Eversleigh. There is no secret of the fact that you are his heiress and I am delighted to have your assurance that you are satisfied with the manner in which the affairs of Eversleigh are being conducted.”
“It is a little bewildering. I have not been able to exchange a word with Lord Eversleigh.”
“The seizure, I gather, has taken the form of paralysis and partially robbed him of speech. That’s not uncommon.”
“I wanted to assure myself that you were satisfied with the manner in which Lord Eversleigh’s affairs were conducted at the Court.”
“I should be more satisfied if some member of the family were in control. But this doctor inspired great confidence in my nephew and we feel that as long as he is there he will see that everything is in order. The … er … housekeeper does seem to be a woman of good sense and she appears to honor her obligations. If you could reside at the Court until everything resolves itself that would be ideal, but I understand you have your other family commitments which make that impossible.”
I agreed that this was so and we talked awhile and then I rose to go.
He took my hand and held it firmly.
“Rest assured, my dear lady, that should anything happen you will be notified without delay.”
I thanked him and left feeling considerably relieved.
I was rather late for the midday meal. Jessie sat with us as she sometimes did and there was the doctor, Dickon and myself.
I explained that I had walked a little farther than I had meant to and didn’t realize it until I began to make my return journey.
“It’s such a lovely day.” I finished lamely.
“Roast pork should be eaten hot,” said Jessie, a little severely, I thought. She was so devoted to food that she considered a lack of enthusiasm to get to it a kind of lese majesty.
Dickon was in a talkative mood. He was very affable to everyone and seemed almost in a state of excitement. I wondered whether this had anything to do with his reunion with Evalina, or perhaps he had found a new light o’ love. In any case he seemed to be suppressing excitement.
His eyes sparkled. He was incredibly good-looking—handsome with that hyacinthine type of fair hair which curled about his head and those startling blue eyes which were alert and filled with lurking laughter. A mixture of the handsome dignity of Apollo and the mischief of Pan.
I asked how Lord Eversleigh was and the doctor replied that he had had a little setback last night.
“I am so sorry, Mistress Ransome. It was just at the time when I thought he was really showing some improvement.”
He looked rather angrily at Jessie, who lowered her eyes and gave even more attention to the food on her plate than usual.
“Well,” went on the doctor, “we have these upsets. They pass. He seemed more at rest during the morning.”
Dickon said: “I had a wonderful morning. I rode quite a way … to country I hadn’t seen before. I found the most wonderful old inn. Forgotten the name of it. It was very traditional … just what an old inn should be. I took a snack there.”
“What did they give you?” asked Jessie, always interested in food.
“Ripe stilton with hot bread—rye, I think it was. … dark and crusty.”
“You want plenty of butter on it,” said Jessie. “Let it sink in and then a good hunk of cheese on top.”
She was tasting it, I knew, in spite of the pork on her plate.
“That’s how it was—with the inn’s special brand of cider. Delicious.”
“And you came straight back here to your good dinner. I haven’t noticed any lack of appetite. Master Frenshaw!”
“You know how you admire my strength at the table. You and I are a pair. Mistress Jessie.”
“Go on with you! I never could abide people who pick at their food.”
“It was a typical gathering. The old blacksmith came into the inn parlor. There were several of us there. He was a gloomy man. He’d evidently got a reputation for it. The others teased him a bit, ‘We have a wager every year on Blacksmith Harry,’ they told me. ‘If anyone can get him to smile between Christmas Day and Twelfth Night we give ’un a shilling … and that’s six of us. You can reckin we work hard to make blacksmith smile. No one’s had any luck yet.’ He was obviously a favorite of them all and I discovered why. He’d got a real gift for telling a story.”
“Did he tell you some?” I asked.
“One,” said Dickon.
“Was it interesting?”
“It was the way he told it. Now that’s the test of a storyteller. If an old tale which must have been heard many times suddenly holds your attention then that’s the mark of a good story-teller. Blacksmith Harry had us all ears, I can tell you.”
“Tell us the story as well as he did.”
“Oh, I’d spoil it. I’m a man of action. I’m no story-teller.”
I said: “It’s most extraordinary, Dickon, to hear you admit you can’t do something.”
“You are really whetting our appetites,” added Dr. Cabel.
“Well, I’ll have a try. But you really need the blacksmith. There was a man in the village whose daughter kept house for him. He was an old miser and an objectionable character in many ways and gave the daughter a bad time. He’d sent off the man who wanted to marry her so that she could go on keeping house for him. He’d already worried his poor wife into the grave.”
“In fact,” I said, “a most undesirable character.”
“Exactly,” said Dickon. “Well, one day the man wasn’t there anymore. He had gone off, said his daughter, to see his brother up in Scotland. The daughter changed the house … made it merry … put up fresh curtains. Her lover came back. There was nothing to stop them getting married now. They could do it while the man was away and when he got back it would be too late to stop it. So preparations were made for a wedding feast … and everyone said what a good thing it was that the old man had gone to visit his brother in Scotland.
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