Philippa Carr - The Adulteress

“What was that?”

“You won’t believe me but I do rather like you, Zipporah. You’re not quite what you seem … are you? I like it … yes, I do.”

I looked at him steadily, his lips turned up at the corners mockingly.

I knew he was telling me that he knew about my love affair with Gerard.

I ought to have been grateful to him—but I couldn’t be. I disliked him as much as ever.

IT WAS EARLY IN the New Year when we went to Eversleigh. I knew that Jean-Louis did not really want to go. He had been brought up at Clavering and it was home to him; he loved every acre of the place, but he realized that we must go and that Eversleigh, the home of my ancestors, was a property of far greater value. Moreover, he knew that my mother and Sabrina were delighted because Clavering could now reasonably go to Dickon.

“It’s the sensible thing to do,” said my mother, “and I am sure that Zipporah agrees with us.”

I did. One of the reasons why I was pleased to leave Clavering was because I should not have to see Dickon.

I was a considerable heiress for Eversleigh was a wealthy estate, and although Amos Carew and Jessie had stolen a few valuables there was so much left that their loss was scarcely missed. Then a great many articles were brought back from Amos Carew’s house. They had been stored in his attic as he had had to go very carefully in the task of disposing of them. The prime villain in the scheme was dead; his accomplices had disappeared and eventually efforts to trace them were dropped.

Lottie was excited by the move. She was now eight years old—a lovely creature, impulsive, affectionate, volatile, in the highest spirits one moment and the depth of depression the next. She had violet-colored eyes with thick dark lashes and abundant hair—almost black, a rare combination and invariably beautiful.

My mother said of her: “I think she must be the image of her great-grandmother. She’s not like you or Jean-Louis. You were always such calm, sensible little things even when you were babies. It’s like Carlotta born again. Strange that she should have been called Charlotte. You’ll have to keep a watch on her, Zipporah.”

I said I intended to.

“I often wonder how you feel about going to Eversleigh … after all that happened there,” she said.

“Well,” I replied, “it seems that everyone thinks we should go.”

I looked at her a little wistfully. She was ashamed that her love for Dickon was greater than that which she bore me. She had been obsessed by that adventure of her youth when she had loved Dickon’s father and the fact that his child was Sabrina’s made no difference to her love for the boy.

Sometimes I wondered whether people who were predictable like myself—apart from that one lapse—did not inspire the same affection as the wayward ones. Carlotta had evidently made a great impression on everyone and yet her life had been far from orthodox. Dickon inspired love such as I never could, although he acted in a manner which even those who loved him must admit was by no means admirable.

“What Lottie wants is a brother or sister,” said my mother. “It’s a pity …”

“At least,” I said, “we have a child.”

That was a phrase I often used to myself. Whatever wrong I had done, it had given us Lottie.

So we prepared to leave. Dickon was to live in the house which we had occupied. There had been protests about that from my mother and Sabrina. Why did he want his own house? Why couldn’t he go on living at the hall?

“It’s the manager’s house,” said Dickon. “I am the manager now.”

“My dear boy,” said Sabrina, “how can we be sure that you will be properly looked after?”

I remember the way Dickon grinned at me. “I think I’ve proved that I can look after myself,” he said.

Of course they couldn’t go against him. He wanted to live in the house so he did.

I tried not to mind that he would be in that house where I had been happy with Jean-Louis. Jean-Louis understood. He said: “It will no longer be ours. We’ll forget it.”

As we journeyed to Eversleigh—Lottie seated between us in the carriage—I thought how tired Jean-Louis looked, and a little sad; and I was filled with tenderness toward him. I had wronged him in the most cruel way a woman could deceive a man in making him believe he was the father of a child who was not his. I must make up for what I had done. I think I had in a way. Looking back, my affection had been at least more demonstrative since Lottie had been born.

She was calling out excitedly and jumping up and down to call our attention to landmarks. Jean-Louis smiled at her. Poor Jean-Louis, he looked rather exhausted. It was a good thing that we had made the journey by carriage. He would never have been able to do it on horseback.

The house looked different. I suppose that was because it was mine and I couldn’t help feeling a glow of pride to think of all my ancestors who had lived here before me, and now here I was taking possession.

We alighted from the carriage and I stood for a moment looking up. It was some two hundred years old, having been built in the days of Elizabeth, so it was in the familiar E style with the main hall and the wings on either side.

It was comforting to see old Jethro come hurrying out from the stables.

“I heard the wheels of the carriage,” he said. “So I knew you was here.”

“This is Jethro.” I said to Jean-Louis. “The old faithful retainer.”

Jethro touched his forelock to Jean-Louis and Lottie regarded him curiously.

“You’ll find everything in order inside, Mistress Zipporah,” said Jethro. “The servants has done well.”

“The same ones?” I asked.

“Most on ’em scuttled off. That must have been friends of Jessie Stirling. I took the liberty of sending Mrs. Jethro over to take a hand and she got some girls from the village to come until you see what you want.”

“Thank you. Jethro.”

We went into the house. I stood in the hall with its rough stone walls on which hung the armory of past Eversleighs. Most of it would have seen action, for we had been a military family in the past.

“What’s that?” cried Lottie and she ran to the fireplace.

I joined her. “It’s the family tree. It was painted over the fireplace more than a hundred years ago … and it is constantly added to.”

“I shall be on it,” cried Lottie ecstatically. “Shan’t I?” she added anxiously.

“Of course.”

“And,” said Lottie, “my husband. I wonder who he’ll be? There’s something you put on your pillow, or under it … on Christmas Eve … or is it Hallowe’en? And when you wake up the first thing you see is your future husband’s face. Oh, dear mama, dear papa, we must find out what it is and when. I can’t wait to see my husband.”

“Why, Lottie,” I said reproachfully, “here you are in your new home and all you can think of is husbands.”

“It was the family tree that put me in mind of it,” said Lottie. “What’s down those steps?”

“I tell you what,” I said. “We’ll let Mrs. Jethro take us to our rooms … and then later on you can explore the house.”

“I want to explore now!”

“We’ll explore together,” I said, “and your father is a little tired.”

She was all contrition. “Dear papa, is it your old leg again? I’m sorry. You ought to have had another cushion in the carriage.”

“I’m all right, my dear,” he said, “but as your mama says, let us go to our rooms first and then we’ll explore the house together later.”

“It is exciting,” said Lottie. “And mama, it is all yours.” She spread out her arms as though to embrace the house. “It must be wonderful to have a house like this … all to yourself.”

“It’s ours,” I said firmly. “Come on. Here’s Mrs. Jethro.”

The largest bedroom in the house had been prepared for us. Here Eversleigh wives and husbands had slept through the ages. It was the room in which the actor calling himself Lord Eversleigh had lived.

Jean-Louis sat down on the brocade-covered bed. I went to him and put my arm about him. I was wondering afresh whether we should have come back to the scene of my infidelity. It was into a room in this house that Gerard had climbed to be with me. The memories which I had sought to suppress for so many years had come flooding back more vividly.

I put my arm tighter round Jean-Louis and held him close to me.

“I do love you so much, Jean-Louis,” I said. “I am going to take such care of you.”

He turned to look at me. I could have believed in that moment that he understood exactly why I felt this emotion.

It was pleasant to renew my acquaintance with the Forsters. Isabel came over the day we arrived at Eversleigh. She was delighted that we were going to be neighbors and she wanted to know if there was anything she could do.

I told her that we were all rather bewildered at the moment. It had been such an upheaval. She must meet Jean-Louis and my daughter.

This she was delighted to do. Jean-Louis had already seen a little of the estate and he was of the opinion that we should need a manager. Derek said he would do all he could to help. The few farms in his possession were easily manageable and until we had settled in he might be of use to us.

The visit of the Forsters seemed to cheer Jean-Louis. I think before they came he was seeing the management of Eversleigh as a task too formidable for his strength. The journey had, of course, exhausted him. I knew it; but I never liked to refer to his weakness, which usually depressed him a little.

Lottie could not be found. She was in the paddock, they thought, exercising her pony—a favorite pastime of hers. She loved horses and in particular her own pony, which would soon have to be replaced by a small horse, I supposed.

Naturally the Forsters talked of the activities which had been going on at Eversleigh and which had shocked the neighborhood. It would, I knew, be talked of for years to come.

“We always guessed that something extraordinary was going on,” said Isabel. “That housekeeper …”

“Well.” I said, “that was not such an extraordinary situation. She was my uncle’s mistress in the first place and that was how her ambitions started.”

“Yes, but it was that manager,” said Derek. “He was the real organizer of the plot. He was a good manager, too. I’ve often said how lucky Lord Eversleigh was to have got hold of such a man.”

“Well, I suppose it began in a simple way. Jessie was to get what she could … and then she had hopes of the house. … That must have been Amos Carew’s idea. It was too ambitious and it was really what made Uncle Carl decide he must make his will … and then after the will was signed they decided to get what they could. Unfortunately for them my uncle died too soon for their schemes to be as rewarding as they had hoped.”

“If it wasn’t for the fact that his living was so advantageous to them they might be suspected of murder.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t that.” I said. “Although it might have been. It was what was intended for me.”

“That young relation of yours—he’s a bright young man.”

“Yes … yes …”

“I wish we’d met him. He sounds so interesting.”

“You probably will one day,” said Jean-Louis.

“Oh …” I began almost protestingly.

“You can’t believe Dickon won’t be paying us a visit, can you?” said Jean-Louis. “He talked of nothing but Eversleigh for weeks after he came home from here.”

“He has Clavering now to claim his attention.”

“Ah yes.” Jean-Louis agreed wistfully. I said to Isabel and Derek: “We’re boring you with our family affairs.”

“Not at all. It’s all so interesting and it is so wonderful that you have come back.”

“You still enjoy living at Enderby?”

“Oh, I think we’ve routed the ghosts.”

“It must be pleasant not to have them around.”

“I think I miss them a little,” said Derek. “We’ve cut down so much of the foliage which darkened the place. My brother said it was positively unhealthy to have so many things growing close to the house and shutting out the sun.”

“Your brother?” I said. “Is that … the doctor?”

“Yes, Charles. He’s settling in very well now. He’s happy, I think, living here. It’s very convenient for his hospital.”

“Where is that, then?”

“It’s near the coast, about a mile or so from here. He’s able to get to it every other day. His practice doesn’t occupy him all that much. The hospital is his great delight.”

“It must mean a lot of hard work for him.”