Philippa Carr - Zipporah’s Daughter

‘Griselda,’ I told her, ‘I am a married woman. I have a husband and children in France and I intend to go back to them shortly.’

She moved close to me and lifted her face to mine; her eyes seemed luminous in her wrinkled face. ‘He has plans for you. Don’t forget it. He’s one who won’t see his plans go awry.’

‘I make my own plans,’ I said.

‘You’re with him all the time. I know him. I know his way with women. Even Isabel …’

‘You know nothing about me, Griselda. Tell me more about Isabel.’

‘What more is there to tell? She was happy with me. She came here and was murdered.’

‘Do stop talking about murder. I know she died giving birth to the twins. You’re very fond of them, aren’t you?’

‘David killed her,’ she said.

‘David!’

‘It was both of them. Him forcing that on her … using her … my little Isabel, just to bear children when she wasn’t capable of it. Her mother had died giving birth to her. It was a weakness in the family. She should never have been forced to try it. Then there was David. He was born two hours after Jonathan. She might have been saved. But he had to have David, you see. He wanted two sons … just in case something happened to one of them. Between them they murdered her … him and David.’

‘Griselda, at least you shouldn’t blame David. A newly-born child! Isn’t that rather foolish of you?’

‘Whenever I look at him, I say to myself: It was you … It was your life or hers. They had Jonathan. That should have been enough.’

‘Griselda, what proof have you of this?’

Her wild eyes searched my face and she did not answer my question. She said: ‘He never married again. He’s got his two sons. That leaves him free for his women. He’s brought them here sometimes. I’ve seen them. I used to wonder whether there’d be anyone set up in Isabel’s place.’

‘Isn’t it time to forget the past, Griselda?’

‘Forget Isabel? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Why did you watch me?’

‘I watch all of them.’

‘You mean … ’

She leaned towards me again and said: ‘His women.’

‘I am not one of them.’

She smiled secretly. I remembered that moment in the minstrels’ gallery at Enderby and was ashamed.

I said: ‘Do you have helpers in your watching?’

‘I can’t get about,’ she said. ‘It’s my rheumatics. Had them for a long time. Makes getting about very hard.’

‘Do you see a good deal of Jonathan?’

She nodded, smiling.

‘And David?’

‘I don’t have him here. He was never what his brother was.’

‘So Jonathan comes on his own. What do you talk about?’

‘His mother. The past.’

‘Is it wise to talk about that to a child?’

‘It’s truth. All children should be taught truth. It says so in the Holy Book.’

‘Do you let Jonathan … do things for you?’

‘He wants to,’ she said. ‘He comes in all excitement. “What’s the scheme for today, Grissel?” he says … the little monkey.’

‘So he follows his father. He … spies on him?’

‘We all want to know if the master is going to marry again. It would make a difference to us all.’

‘As a nurse, don’t you think it is wrong to involve a child in these things?’

‘Jonathan’s not a child. He was born a man … like his father. I know much of what goes on. I learned through Isabel. I saw him through her eyes. Have a care, Madame. No one is safe from him. Remember he murdered my Isabel.’

I had a great desire to get away from the scrutiny of those mad eyes. The room seemed to be stifling me. I felt I was shut in with a crazy woman. She had accused Dickon of murder because his wife died giving birth to twins. She was teaching Jonathan to spy for her. The idea of that boy following us to Enderby … lying in wait there to spy on us, revolted me.

I wondered whether I should tell Sabrina what I had discovered. I felt someone should know, and yet who? My grandmother was not in a fit state to cope with the situation. Sabrina? My mother? Dickon?

I did not feel I could confide what I had discovered to anyone in this house. Then I thought: What harm can the old woman do with her spying? To Jonathan it was just a game. To spy on his father and report to Griselda! There was something decidedly unhealthy about that. But there was something unhealthy about the entire matter.

While I turned all this over in my mind, preparations for our departure went on apace and a few days after my meeting with Griselda, my mother and I were on our way to the coast.

MY FATHER WAS AT Calais waiting for us when we landed. I was amazed and a little envious to see the overwhelming love he had for my mother, so strong that it could not be hidden. My mother took it for granted and I know felt the same towards him. I was sure she believed that this was how all married people felt towards each other. I often thought that her blind belief in such a bond was so convincing that my father, who was first of all a man of the world, was carried along in her belief. She was innocent of the world, it appeared, and here was an example of the strength of innocence. How different were Charles and myself. There was a passionate attachment, yes; we could say we loved each other with reservations. Yet I had almost succumbed to Dickon and I was sure Charles had his affairs. I accepted this as the state of marriage—the only way in which it could survive. How shocked my mother would be!

But it was heartwarming to see them together and he had a good deal of affection to spare for me. He saw me as the outcome of the great passion of his life. I was very happy to be in their company.

I stayed at Aubigné for a few days. They wanted me to stay longer, but I was longing to get home, to see Charles and my children. I remembered with pleasure that Lisette would be there too. Moreover it was not very comfortable to be in the château in which Sophie had shut herself away.

I should have liked to see her. I wanted to tell her that Lisette was back and it was almost like the old times and how often we talked of her and wished she were with us as she used to be.

‘She doesn’t grow any better,’ my father said, ‘and we have now ceased to try to make her do so. She keeps in her own apartments, presumably happy enough with Jeanne.’

I asked if I could pay a visit to her room but Jeanne let us know that it would not be wise and might bring back unpleasant memories for Sophie.

Armand greeted me with that special brand of cool affection and Marie Louise seemed more remote than ever. My father said her piety increased every day and there was no sign of a child and not likely to be.

Charles welcomed me boisterously and declared he had thought I was never coming back. Charlot hugged me tightly and so did Louis-Charles. As for Claudine, she had become quite a person and now and then uttered a word which was not unintelligible and could walk a few steps. The nicest thing of all was that she knew me and clucked with pleasure when I took her in my arms.

It was good to be home and I was immensely relieved that I had kept my head and my virtue. Here in my home it seemed incredible that I could ever have come near to losing them; and as the days passed Eversleigh with its mad Griselda and Enderby with its ghosts seemed very remote—except perhaps Dickon. The memory of him stayed with me and came back to me vividly in unguarded moments.

Lisette wanted to hear all about it. I told her of Griselda. I did not mention my feelings for Dickon. I felt that was something to be kept secret. She listened and said it had been very dull at Tourville without me.

Charles had lost none of his interest in the war between England and the American colonies. In fact, I told him, he talked of little else.

‘Your people are fighting a losing battle,’ he said. ‘They should know themselves beaten.’

‘I cannot believe they are going to be beaten by colonists who are our own people in any case. It’s like a civil war.’

‘They are the worst. Moreover, my dear, they are going to have the might of France behind them.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Let me tell you something. Your English suffered a massive defeat at Saratoga and at Court they are talking of nothing else but what this means. Our Louis has made a pact with the colonists. What do you think of that?’

‘Against England?’

He grinned at me. ‘Poor Louis, he wants peace. They had a hard task persuading him that he was not running a risk of war. I was getting into a bit of a panic, I don’t mind telling you, because I was fearful that war might be declared while you were still in England.’

‘What would that have meant?’

‘Well, communications wouldn’t have been easy. You might not have been able to get back.’

‘You mean I should have had to stay in England?’

‘Don’t worry. I should have come to fetch you. But it might not have been easy. In any case we are not at war, but the British Ambassador has been recalled from Paris.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘That the English are not very pleased with us.’

‘I pray there won’t be war between our two countries.’

‘You are safely home now, Lottie, and here you are going to stay.’

That summer came early. Claudine was growing up. She had had her second birthday in February and could now chatter to us and run about. She was an enchanting child with a quick temper and a desire to have her own way; but she was also affectionate and her moods changed so quickly that there were dazzling smiles after tears and most of the household were her slaves.

It was the beginning of July when we had a visitor. Lisette and I were in the garden with the children when one of the maids announced that a gentleman was asking for me.

‘He has come a long way, Madame, and particularly asks for you.’

I rose and followed her.

And there he was, smiling at me and looking certain of a welcome, making my heart leap about in an uncomfortable fashion and filling me with emotions which were hard to analyse.

‘Dickon,’ I cried.

‘Well, you look pleased to see me, Lottie. I knew you would be. I had business in Paris and being in France I knew you would never forgive me if I did not come to see you.’

‘You should have warned me.’

‘No time. It was decided that I should visit Paris so I came without delay. And here I am.’

‘Well, come in. They’ll take your horse. You must be hungry.’

‘For a sight of you.’

‘Please, Dickon,’ I said, ‘while you are here in my husband’s house … ’

‘Point understood,’ he said. ‘I’ll promise. My behaviour shall be impeccable.’

The maid summoned a groom while I took him into the house.

‘H’m,’ he said. ‘A fine place. I fancied a glimpse of Aubigné but did not call. I had an idea that your mother would make me less welcome. She has never really been a friend of mine. In any case I want to spend as much time as I can with my delectable Lottie.’

‘You promised … ’

‘A delicate compliment to a delightful hostess, nothing more.’

Even as he looked round the hall I saw the speculative look in his eyes. He was assessing the value of everything. He could not help that. That was Dickon.

I sent one of the maids to see if she could find Charles and meanwhile told them to bring some food and prepare a room.

‘You will stay for a few days, I suppose,’ I said.

‘I shall certainly do so if invited.’

‘As a relation, of course you are.’

‘Lottie, you are so beautiful. Do you know, when I am away from you, I forget how beautiful you are. Then it bursts upon me suddenly when I see you and yet I tell myself that I carry an image of you in my heart for ever.’

‘Just another example of self-deceit,’ I said lightly.

Food was brought and I took him into one of the small rooms which led from the hall, and sat with him while he ate. I heard Charles come in and went into the hall.

‘Charles,’ I said, ‘we have a visitor. You have heard of Dickon. He had to come to Paris so he has called to see us.’

The two men seemed to fill the small room. I watched them intently while they took stock of each other.

Dickon was an inch or so taller and he seemed more blond than ever beside Charles’s darkness. Charles’s manner was faintly hostile. I thought: He is seeing Dickon as the persecutor of colonists … but it was more than that. Dickon was smiling, summing up Charles and being rather pleased by what he saw, which I guessed meant that he was discovering defects.