I guessed what he was leading up to and did not want him to say it … yet. I felt very insecure and I doubted his intentions. I believed I would always do that. I told myself that I could never entirely trust him again.

‘They were so happy together,’ I said. ‘So ideally suited. He so worldly, she was innocent. But she was an idealist and I think she made him the man she believed him to be.’

‘It is possible. And to die like that! The victim of fools … for there are many fools in this country.’

‘Aren’t there in all countries?’

‘You are right. But France at this time cannot afford her fools. Can you feel it in the air? It is like the quiet before the storm.’

‘I can feel nothing.’

‘That is because you are not aware of what is going on.’

‘I do live here and you are a visitor.’

‘I travel a little in France and I watch … ’

‘Dickon, your mother said something about fingers in pies. Are you here on a mission?’

‘If I were it would be essentially secret, wouldn’t it, and therefore you would not expect an honourable man to divulge it.’

‘I always thought there was some motive … ’

‘The main motive in my life is to be with you.’

‘I don’t believe that.’

He sighed. ‘How can I make you believe it?’

‘You never could. There is too much behind us. You once talked of marrying me, but you took Eversleigh instead. You married soon afterwards … most suitably.’

‘I made one big mistake. I should have waited for you.’

‘But think what Eversleigh meant to you.’

‘I can only think what you mean to me. Lottie, we have the example of your parents. How wise they were! Think of their idyllic life together.’

‘It would never be like that for us.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we are different. You will tell me that you and my father have a lot in common. But it needs two to make a perfect union and I can assure you that I am not in the least like my mother.’

‘Lottie, come back to me. Marry me. Let’s start where we should have started all those years ago.’

‘I don’t think it would be wise.’

‘Why not?’

‘If I married again I should want something wonderful. I remember seeing my parents together. I have heard my father talk of his marriage to my mother … nothing less would satisfy me. If I cannot have that I prefer to stay as I am, free, independent.’

‘You shall have everything you want.’

‘It’s too late, Dickon.’

‘It’s never too late. You have some feeling for me.’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘You feel better for having me around.’

I hesitated. ‘I … I am aware of you.’

‘Very much aware of me. There is a sparkle in your eyes when you see me.’ He turned to me and, putting his arms round me, kissed me. I could not hide the fact that I was moved, that I responded, that I wanted him to go on kissing me; but I kept seeing my mother, hearing her voice, and she was warning me against him. She seemed closer to me now that she was dead.

I pushed him away vehemently. ‘No, Dickon,’ I said. ‘No.’

‘We are both free now,’ he reminded me. ‘Why not? Let’s take it up where we should have done all those years ago.’

I could not deceive myself. I wanted to say Yes. I knew life with Dickon would be a hazardous adventure, but I wanted to embark on it. Yet I could still see my mother warning me as it were from the grave; and so vivid was that image that I could not ignore it.

‘You could find someone very suitable in the circles in which you move,’ I said. ‘London society, is it? Some rich woman?’

‘I have a fair share of worldly goods now, you know.’

‘But you would still like more.’

‘Who can honestly say No to possessions?’

‘Certainly not Dickon.’

‘Well, you would hardly be a penniless parti,’ he said lightly. ‘I am sure your father, who is immensely rich, would not allow that. Then you must have dues to you from Tourville.’

‘I see that in the midst of your devotion you have had time to calculate my worth.’

‘Your worth is above diamonds, which I always considered to be more worthy than rubies. The fact is, Lottie, I love you. I always have. I always knew you were the one for me, ever since I set eyes on the beautiful child with the wilful ways and the passion which matched my own. Do you imagine that your romantic birth did anything to stem my love for you?’

‘No, I don’t think that. The stem was Eversleigh.’

‘Cruel! Cruel and cutting. A man makes one mistake. Is he never to be forgiven for it?’

‘Forgiven, yes. But the mistake—if mistake it was—is not easily forgotten.’

My mood towards him had changed. When he talked about my father’s wealth I remembered how interested he was in the estate, his speculation, his pleasure in it which he had shown when we were riding about it.

If I married again it would not be for my possessions, and although I was sure Dickon’s feeling for me went deep, I knew that he could not help considering every advantage.

He desired me. I was well aware of that. But I had seen with Charles that such desire does not last and when it begins to be less urgent there must be some firm foundation on which to build a love such as that which I had seen between my mother and father.

Dickon went on pleadingly: ‘There are two very good reasons why you should come to England. The first is that I need you and you need me. The second is that this is a very uneasy country. You are shut away in this rural district and you forget it. Can you ever forget, though, what happened to your mother?’

I shook my head. ‘Never,’ I said vehemently.

‘Why did it happen? Ask yourself why. France is in a ferment. I know that. It is my business to know it.’

‘Secret mission?’ I asked.

‘It is obvious that if there is trouble in France we on the other side of the Channel will not be very sorry about that. They deserve what is coming to them, and remember this, Lottie, it is coming. It’s in the air. Wise people are aware of it. Look back a little. Louis XIV left a strong France, but during the reign of the fifteenth Louis France’s fortunes were dissipated. The extravagant excesses of that king enraged the people. They hated the Pompadour and du Barry. The finery … the carriages in the streets … the glittering entertainments … the fortunes spent on dresses and jewels by the aristocrats had been noticed. And beside this are the poor … the starving poor. Such contrasts exist in other places but in no other have the foolish people called such blatant attention to them. They are nearly bankrupt. They have a young, idealistic King with an extravagant wife who is an Austrian—and the French hate foreigners. There are agitators in this country whose sole task is to promote trouble. They started with the Guerre des Farines but it misfired somehow and instead of becoming a revolution it was a rehearsal for one … probably due to the courage of the King when the mob marched on Versailles … and luck, of course. He had that.’

‘You hate them, Dickon.’

‘I despise them,’ he answered.

‘You have never forgiven them for their attitude towards the Colonists. They thought they were helping the oppressed. Charles thought that.’

‘And he left you, the fool. He lost you … and his life. He earned the reward of his folly. I understand why he went to fight for the Colonists. I wouldn’t tell any French man or woman this, but I think they were right to stand out against the imposition of taxes. But for the French to raise companies of men and go to their aid when the money was needed in their own country, and then to come back and preach republican ideas when their monarchy and the whole structure of their country is beginning to crumble, that is the utmost folly. It is more than that—it is madness.’

‘And you think it will have some effect?’

‘Have some effect! You have seen what happened to your mother. She knew nothing of their grievances but the mob does not care on whom it wreaks its vengeance. She was an aristocrat in a grand carriage. That was enough for them. You have never seen these agitators. You don’t know how persuasive they can be.’

‘I did see one once. But I did not stay long to listen. I was with my father and we left immediately.’

‘That was wise of you. Don’t make any mistakes. There is danger in the air. It could catch up with you. Come away while you are safe.’

‘What of my father?’

‘Bring him with you.’

‘Do you think he would ever leave Aubigné?’

‘No.’

‘I shall not leave him as long as he wants me. It would be too cruel to go away. It would be worse for him than my being at Tourville. At least then I was in France.’

‘And what of me?’

‘You, Dickon? You are capable of taking care of yourself.’

‘You will see that I am right.’

‘I hope not.’

‘And I shall not give up. I shall continue to harry you. And one day you will realize that it is useless to hold out any longer.’

‘You mean you will come to France again on your secret mission?’

‘On my romantic mission. That is the only mission important to me.’

We talked and I swayed. I believed at some times I was on the point of giving up everything for Dickon. He had that effect on me. Then I heard again the voice of my mother and I remembered that I could not leave my father. So I tried to be content and make a happy life for myself in Aubigné.

Time passed quickly at Aubigné. There was so much to do. Lisette had added the task of governess to that of lady’s maid. She had always taught Louis-Charles when he was young and now she took over Claudine. I helped her and we enjoyed our sessions with Claudine, who was a bright child.

My father said the boys should have a tutor and he would look out for someone reliable and suitable.

The American war had come to an end and even King George had given his consent to the independence of the colony. Everyone was very pleased about that, including my father, who pointed out that the English had been soundly beaten and that as well as losing half a continent they had added millions to their national debt.

‘A piece of folly,’ he said.

And I thought of what Dickon had said about French participation in it. It had taken Charles; it had brought a republican spirit into France; Dickon had said that it could have far-reaching consequences, and although I tried to dismiss those implications from my mind I could not do so entirely.

I had been up to see Sophie on several occasions. I think she could bear to see me now that Charles was dead. Neither of us had him now. I believed that was how she saw it.

She managed to look quite pretty in a way. Jeanne, who was an expert seamstress, had devised a method of attaching hoods to her gowns; they always matched in colour or were beautifully blended; and they were designed to hide her scars completely.

I tried to make her believe that Charles and I had not been lovers before our marriage. I insisted that the flower she had found in his room had not been dropped there by me. I wished I could have found that flower, but although I had searched, I never had been able to. Charles had given it to me so long ago and I had never given it a thought until Sophie mentioned it. I greatly regretted that it was lost and I could not show it to Sophie to prove that I was speaking the truth. But she did not want to hear any more on the subject and I knew that if I persisted I should be prevented from going again to see her and I was trying very hard to get back to that relationship which we had once shared.

The children were a safer subject, but I did not take them to see her. It occurred to me that it might make her resentful of me if she saw the children, for she would immediately think that they might have been hers. So I merely told her about Charlot’s prowess at sport and how he enjoyed playing with Louis-Charles.

I knew that Lisette went to see her, and I thought it was a great breakthrough when Lisette and I went together and there were the three of us just as there used to be in the old days.

Lisette was a great asset. She could keep the conversation flowing in the right directions. She brought materials to show Jeanne and we all discussed the making of a new gown for Sophie.

I thought: One of these days we shall persuade her to come down and live like an ordinary member of the household. There was no reason why she should not. She looked rather pretty in her cleverly fashioned gowns, and the hood seemed like a charming fashion.