Whether he really did have the Frenchman’s natural antipathy to the English I was not sure, or whether it was done in a bantering way, but it continued and the war made more verbal ammunition to hurl at me.

Without knowing very much about the situation I defended the English, which delighted him and gave him a chance to prove me wrong again and again.

‘I tell you,’ he said on one occasion, ‘this could mean war between England and France.’

‘Surely the French would not act so out of character as to go to war for someone else’s benefit?’

‘It is the cause of liberty, my dear.’

‘There are troubles enough here in France,’ I said. ‘Why do you worry about colonists from another country far from here when your own peasants are verging on revolt and would perhaps like to see a little of that fair treatment you are talking about.’

‘You talk like a rebel,’ said Charles.

‘You talk like a fool. As if France would go to war about this matter which is the concern of another country.’

‘There is strong feeling here.’

‘For the sole purpose of embarrassing the English.’

‘They got themselves into this embarrassing situation. We did nothing to bring it about.’

‘But you seek to exploit it.’

And so we went on.

About the time when Claudine was five months old there was a Declaration of Independence in America and Charles was jubilant.

‘These brave people are fighting a big nation for their freedom. Mon Dieu, I should like to join them. Do you know there is talk of sending an army from France?’

It occurred to me then that Charles might be finding life at Tourville a little dull. He was not really meant to manage a large estate, and because I had seen something of the manner in which such places were run—there was my father for one at Aubigné and I had lived on our estates of Clavering and Eversleigh—I did realize that Charles lacked the real aptitude. There was a manager, of course, but managers, however good, did not compensate for the indifference of their owners.

I listened half-heartedly to the talk about the American War of Independence and the part France was going to play in it, but I was really absorbed by the children. Then Lisette and I spent hours talking and riding together and sometimes walking. It was always fun to be with Lisette.

In December Charles went back to Paris and stayed there for several weeks. When he came back his enthusiasm for the war was at fever pitch. He had met three deputies from America—Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane and Arthur Lee. Everyone was talking about them, he said, and in spite of their extraordinary appearance they had been invited everywhere as the French were so eager to hear about their fight for independence.

‘Their manners were so simple,’ he said, ‘and they wore their hair unpowdered and the plainest cloth suits I ever saw in my life. But Paris is in a frenzy over them. People are demanding that we go to war against the English at once.’

He had been in the company of the Marquis de Lafayette earlier in the year and had been most impressed when the Marquis bought a vessel and loaded it with ammunition and after certain troubles set sail from America.

Feeling in the country was high against England but the King was adamant that France should not become involved in a war.

That was the state of affairs when a messenger arrived from Aubigné.

My mother had news from Eversleigh that my grandmother was very ill and was longing to see us. Sabrina had written that if we could possibly make the journey Clarissa would be so happy and if we did not come soon we might not have an opportunity of seeing her.

Sabrina was clearly distressed, for she and my grandmother had been very close all their lives.

‘Dickon has never recovered from his wife’s death,’ she continued. ‘It has been a great sadness to us all. Poor Dickon. Fortunately he is very busy and spends most of his time in London, so he has plenty to occupy him which stops him brooding on his loss … ’

I wondered what he was like now. What would he do? Look round for a new heiress, I thought cynically. It was of no interest to me now. I was a wife and a mother.

My mother had also written. ‘My dear, I know it is asking a good deal to expect you to leave your home but we should not stay long … just long enough to see your grandmother. As Sabrina says, there might not be another chance. I shall go in any case and it would be wonderful if you came with me. Your grandmother asks particularly for you.’

When I showed Charles the letter he said of course I must go.

Lisette thought it would be interesting for me to see my old home. She longed to come with me but that was, of course, out of the question.

‘Don’t stay long,’ she implored me. ‘I can’t imagine this place without you.’

Charles’s parting shot was: ‘See if you can persuade them over there to come to their senses. They’re in for a humiliating defeat if they don’t. Wait till France gets busy across the Atlantic.’

‘I am not going on a political mission but to see a sick grandmother,’ I reminded him.

‘Then make sure you don’t stay too long,’ he said. ‘This place is quite dull without you.’

My feelings were very mixed as my mother and I made the journey to the coast accompanied by my father who saw us on to the packet boat before leaving us. It had been sad to say goodbye to the children, to Charles and Lisette, but I was anxious about my grandmother and I could not suppress a certain excitement at the prospect of seeing Eversleigh again. I think my mother felt the same, though she was very subdued.

We had a reasonably good crossing and arrived at Dover in the afternoon so that it was evening before we reached Eversleigh.

There was the old house as I remembered it—not so imposing perhaps as the Château d’Aubigné, but grand in its own manner.

Sabrina rushed out when she heard our arrival. She embraced us fervently. ‘It is wonderful to see you!’ she cried. ‘I am so delighted that you have come.’

‘How is my mother?’ asked my mother.

‘Weak … but so excited at the prospect of seeing you. I am sure it will do her the world of good. Oh, here’s Dickon.’

And there he was—Dickon, who had been so much in my thoughts for so long. He was just as I remembered him—‘larger than life’, as someone had once said of him; and as good-looking as he ever had been. A wig covered those hyacinthine locks, which was a pity, but his eyes were even more startlingly blue than I remembered.

‘Zipporah!’ he cried, first to my mother. He embraced her and I noticed that she tried to hold aloof, but he appeared not to notice that and hugged her affectionately.

And then he was looking at me. He said my name softly. ‘Lottie … Lottie … grown-up Lottie.’

I held out my hand to him but he ignored the gesture and lifted me up in his arms, laughing up at me.

‘How exciting … Lottie is here.’

Sabrina was looking at him with that mingling of admiration, tenderness and adoration which I remembered so well. I saw my mother’s lips tighten, and I thought: Nothing has changed.

As for myself I had been waiting ever since I knew I was coming here for this moment.

‘They must be worn out,’ said Sabrina. ‘Did you have a good journey? Your rooms are ready … your old rooms. I thought you would like that. But would you like to see Clarissa first?’

‘Of course,’ said my mother. ‘Let’s go to her at once.’

Sabrina led the way up the staircase which I remembered so well.

Dickon was close to me. He put an arm around me. ‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘what fun that you are here.’

I said coolly: ‘I hope my grandmother is not seriously ill.’

‘She is getting on in years now,’ said Sabrina, ‘and she has grown weaker these last months. That is why I thought you should come.’

‘You should have come before,’ said Dickon.

Sabrina smiled. ‘Of course they should. In fact we were all very put out that you went abroad.’

‘At least that left you Eversleigh,’ I said, looking at Dickon. I was telling myself: It is different now. I know so much about you. I know you chose this place instead of me.

I must remember that, for in these first moments I was beginning to be too much aware of the potent charm of Dickon and was filled with misgiving.

We went to my grandmother’s room. She was sitting up in bed looking frail but pretty in a lacey pink bedjacket.

‘Zipporah!’ she cried and my mother ran to her. ‘And Lottie! Oh my dears … how wonderful to see you. It has seemed so long …

We embraced and she made us sit on either side of the bed. ‘Tell me all your news,’ she said. ‘Tell me about dear little Charlot and Claudine. Oh, Lottie, it is so odd to think of you as a mother. You seem only a child yourself.’

‘Time passes. I am no longer a child, Grandmother.’

‘Dear Lottie, as lovely as ever. She is, is she not, Sabrina? Dickon?’

Sabrina nodded and Dickon said: ‘She’s lovelier. She’s Lottie-grown-up, Lottie the woman. She’s even more lovely than Lottie the child.’

Sabrina and my grandmother looked at him and smiled in the way I remembered so well. My mother’s face had hardened and the years seemed to drop away and we were back in those days when there was conflict because Dickon wanted to marry me.

‘You are a father now, Dickon,’ she said.

‘Oh, the terrible twins,’ put in Sabrina indulgently. ‘They were rather cross because they weren’t allowed to sit up. You’ll see them in the morning.’

‘They must be about eight years old now,’ said my mother.

‘So you remember,’ commented my grandmother indulgently.

‘You’ll have a lot of time to talk,’ said Sabrina, smiling at my grandmother. ‘I’m going to take them to their rooms now. You’ll want to wash and have something to eat, I dare say. You’ll see them again very soon, Clarissa.’

My grandmother nodded and smiled contentedly while Sabrina took charge of us and led us to our rooms.

What memories come back to me in that room! And I am sure my mother felt the same in hers. She had not always been happy here and she was obviously remembering a great deal that was disturbing. We were both going to find our stay here rather upsetting. A brief glimpse of Dickon had made that certain. He had lost none of his charm and I was as conscious of him as I had ever been. I warned myself I would have to be wary.

I washed and changed and went down with my mother to a meal.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ I asked her.

She turned to give me a searching look. ‘I’m a little emotional, I’m afraid. It’s coming back here. I remember so much about the place. Uncle Carl … and then Jean-Louis and I here together.’

‘Grandmother, Sabrina and Dickon were not here then.’

‘No, they came when we left.’

‘I dare say there will be lots of differences.’

‘Oh, I dare say. Your grandmother does not seem as bad as I feared she might be. That’s a relief. I don’t think we should stay very long, do you, Lottie? I mean … you’ll be wanting to get home … and your father made me promise not to stay too long.’

‘We have only just come,’ I reminded her.

But even as early as that I was telling myself that I should never have agreed to come, for Dickon was determined to take up our relationship where it had been broken off, which was characteristic of his attitude to life. I really do believe that he saw himself as the very centre of existence with everything revolving round him and everyone there for his convenience. Others might be obliged to take care what they did; the same did not apply to him. If he wanted to act without honour he would do so; I am sure he believed so charmingly that everyone would forgive him.

‘No, I told myself. Not everyone. I shall never forget that he chose Eversleigh and let me go.

As we sat at table that night he singled me out for his attention.

‘Do you ride much in France, Lottie?’ he asked.

‘A great deal,’ I replied.

‘Good. We’ll go out tomorrow. I have just the horse for you.’

Sabrina smiled. ‘It will do you good, Lottie. And you’ll be safe with Dickon.’

I wanted to burst out laughing. I should be safer even alone than with Dickon.

My mother was talking about Claudine and what an enchanting child she was. ‘She has a bit of a temper, the nurse tells me. Oh, I do wish I could see my grandchildren more. Little Charlot is quite a charmer.’

‘What would you expect of Lottie’s son?’ asked Dickon.