Drop of the Dice (41 page)

‘Clarissa! Sabrina! What’s happened?’ he cried. He had run to us and as I looked at his kindly, handsome face, so full of concern, I was ashamed of myself for thinking for a moment that he could wish me harm, let alone do me any.

I said: ‘I was attacked in the woods.’

‘Good God! Are you all right?’

‘I’m very shaken… and I can feel a bump on my head. I think Sabrina has saved my life.’

It was as though a radiance had settled on Sabrina. She smiled and nodded. Then she said excitedly: ‘Something told me to go into the woods and save Clarissa. I came just in time. I saw this man… or whatever it was… all dressed in a cloak like a monk’s… and there was Clarissa on the ground. It was dragging her along to the dene hole.’

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Lance.

‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘Someone did attack me. It didn’t seem like robbery. I
was
being dragged across the ground and I can only think it was to the dene hole.’

‘It sounds mad. But let’s get you in.’ He picked me up in his arms, and the tenderness in his face touched me deeply.

As we entered the hall Madame Legrand was coming down the stairs’.

She stopped suddenly at the sight of me and murmured:
‘Mon Dieu!’

Lance said: ‘Clarissa has been attacked in the woods. Let’s get her to bed.’

He went on up the stairs, Sabrina still at his heels with Madame Legrand joining her.

‘Attack, you say? What is this attack? This dear child… is she well? The little
bébé…
’

‘Everything is all right, I think,’ said Lance. ‘I’ll have the woods scoured to see what prowlers are about. Everyone must be warned.’ We had reached our bedroom and he laid me gently on the bed. ‘I shall get the doctor,’ he said. ‘I think that wisest.’

Madame Legrand said: ‘I will nurse her. I will see that she is well again. No harm must come to this little baby.’

Sabrina said: ‘
I’m
staying with her.’

‘No… no…’ murmured Madame Legrand, ‘she must rest. It is best for her to be quiet.’

Sabrina insisted stubbornly: ‘I shall stay.’

I smiled at my little defender. ‘I should like Sabrina to sit by my bed,’ I said.

Madame Legrand started to protest and Lance said: ‘If that is what you want, Clarissa…’

Sabrina smiled complacently.

Nanny Curlew had come in. She had heard what had happened. It always astonished me how quickly news travelled. She said a hot sweet dish of tea was what was wanted and she was brewing one immediately. I had had a nasty shock and that would help until the doctor came.

Lance went off to send someone for the doctor. Then he came and sat by my bed. Sabrina sat on the other side. When the tea came she took it from Nanny Curlew and tasted it.

‘It is not for you, Miss,’ said Nanny Curlew.

‘I know,’ retorted Sabrina, ‘but I’m the taster.’

I wanted to tell her how she comforted me; how happy I was to have her with me. It was to her I turned before I did to Lance, and that was significant. I could not feel suspicious of him as he sat there at my bedside, looking so anxious and tender, and yet… lurking at the back of my mind there were still a few doubts and fears.

Those shapely white hands of his with the Clavering crest on the signet ring he wore on his little finger… were they the hands which had dragged me along? I kept thinking how much he would have gained by my death. He had had plenty of time to discard the monk’s robe… perhaps leave it somewhere in the woods… and then appear sauntering casually towards the stables.

And so I turned to Sabrina… the only one of whose fidelity I could be absolutely sure.

The doctor arrived. He shook his head gravely. It was a nasty blow I had had on the back of my head. My arms and legs were grazed too; but fortunately the baby appeared to be unharmed by the adventure. As for myself, I was very shocked—perhaps more than I realized just now. I must rest for several days and take nourishment. If I did so, he believed I would be myself in a week or so.

The news spread. Madame Legrand had been chased by a gipsy and now I had actually been attacked in the woods. The next day Aimée came running in from the woods in a breathless state. She had been chased by a figure in a dark cloak with a concealing hood which hid the face. She had been terrified and just managed to make the edge of the woods before the apparition caught up with her. As she came into the open, her pursuer disappeared.

‘It is some madman disguising himself with the hood and cloak,’ declared Lance. ‘I’ll set people to watch in the woods. He has to be caught.’

This he did but the apparition seemed to have learned that he was being looked for and made no appearances.

I recovered quickly. Sabrina was constantly with me, and I began to be glad of what had happened because of the change it had wrought in her. She had never forgotten that it was her disobedience which had cost her mother her life. Now she had saved mine and felt she had expiated her sin. Through her a life had been lost; now, through her, one had been saved.

I loved to have her near me, tasting my food as she insisted on. She was now even talking about the baby, and admiring the clothes which were being prepared for the child.

I found that I had lost a garnet brooch during my adventure. It wasn’t very valuable but was precious to me because Damaris had given it to me long ago.

I told Sabrina. I said: ‘The clasp was weak, and when I was dragged along the ground it must have come undone.’

‘I’ll find it for you,’ said Sabrina, confident in her powers to do everything she set her hand to.

‘It’s lost for ever, I dare say. Don’t go into the woods alone.’

She was silent, nodding her head.

It was two days later while I was having my afternoon rest when she burst in on me.

That she was excited was obvious. Her hands were grubby and she looked as if she had been digging up the earth.

‘Oh, Clarissa, what do you think I’ve found!’

‘My brooch?’

She shook her head and for once even Sabrina was at a loss for words. Then she said slowly: ‘Look. I found it near the dene hole. It’s Jeanne’s Jean-Baptiste.’

I stared down at the little plaque with the chain attached. Soil was sticking to it. As I took and held it memories of Jeanne came flooding back, of her showing me this when I was a child, her Jean-Baptiste which had been put about her neck when she was born and which she must wear until the day she died.

I felt sick. And it had been found near the dene hole.

Thoughts crowded into my mind. I was there again… lying on the ground… I was being dragged along with obvious intent. Someone had planned to throw me down the dene hole. Could it have been that Jeanne had met the same murderer and that there had been no one to rescue her?

But no. Her clothes had gone. My jewels had gone and only the bezoar ring had been recovered.

There was some mystery here and wild thoughts were racing through my head.

Lance said the dene hole must be searched. No one, as far as he knew, had ever been down there before, but that was no reason why someone should not go down now.

All the men on the estate were with him. They all knew of Jeanne’s disappearance and now that this ornament had been found near the dene hole, it seemed significant, for I could testify and so could others that Jeanne had taken off her Jean-Baptiste only to wash and she had always said that she would wear it till she died.

Several men volunteered for going down the dene hole. Stakes were brought, with a thick rope-ladder. There was excitement throughout the community and everyone was talking about the prowler in the woods. They were certain that Jeanne had been his victim.

I remember that afternoon well. It was hot—the beginning of July—and in the woods practically the entire neighbourhood had gathered. Lance had said I must not be there. In any case the doctor’s orders were that I should rest every afternoon. Sabrina stayed with me, although I knew she was longing to be in the woods.

At length Lance came to my room. His face was pale and for once very serious.

‘Poor Jeanne,’ he said. ‘We misjudged her. She’s hardly recognizable… but her clothes are down there and her old cloth bag… do you remember? The one she brought with her from France.’

I covered my face with my hands; I could not bear to look at Lance or Sabrina.

Jeanne, dear, good, misjudged Jeanne, how could we ever have thought she was a thief? We should have known,

‘It’s a mystery,’ said Lance. ‘The jewellery was missing. What can it mean?’

Aimée had come into the room.

‘I heard you come in, Lance,’ she said.

He told her that Jeanne’s body had been found.

‘In the dene hole!’ Aimée was almost disbelieving.

Lance nodded.

‘It must have been this gipsy… or prowler… all that time ago…’

Lance was silent.

I said; ‘There is the loss of the jewellery to explain. What could that have to do with Jeanne’s being attacked in the woods?’

‘That,’ said Lance, ‘we shall have to find out.’

‘But…
how
?’ asked Aimée.

‘Well, someone sold the jewellery to the London jeweller from whom Clarissa bought the bezoar ring.’

‘Oh yes, I see,’ said Aimée slowly.

‘We’ll get to the bottom of it in time,’ said Lance. ‘At least poor Jeanne has been exonerated. Poor girl… to die like that… and to be blamed for stealing…’

‘Dear Jeanne,’ I said, ‘I never really believed it of her. At least some good has come out of this attack on me.’

‘I shall go up to London at once,’ said Lance. ‘I’ll call on that jeweller.’

There was no talk of anything but the fate which had befallen Jeanne. In the village, in the servants’ hall, it was discussed endlessly. Most people declared that they had always known Jeanne was honest and that there was something decidedly odd about her disappearance, which was not true, of course, as most of them had stated at the time of Jeanne’s disappearance that you never could be sure of foreigners.

After a few days Lance came back from London. It was a stormy evening when he returned and he had had a difficult journey from London because of the weather. He had seen the jeweller and questioned him. The man had repeated his story about a Frenchwoman coming in with the jewellery and the tale she had told about leaving England in a hurry. Did he think he would know her if he saw her again? He was sure of it.

More enquiries were being made, said Lance, and they would go on until the mystery was solved.

The next morning Madame Legrand and Aimée were missing.

‘It began to seem rather obvious,’ said Lance, ‘from the time we found Jeanne’s body. A Frenchwoman selling the jewellery could very likely be Madame Legrand or Aimée.’

‘Yes,’ I pondered, ‘but what has that got to do with the death of Jeanne?’

Lance thought that when she had disappeared, they might have had the idea that they could steal the jewellery and make it appear that Jeanne had taken it—which it did.

‘They are obviously running away now,’ he said. ‘You can depend upon it, they will try to get to France. I’m going to get them back because there is a lot of explaining to be done. They might try to make for Dover. On the other hand that would take time. How would they get to Dover? The horses are all in the stables… besides, Madame Legrand cannot ride. I am sure they will take one of our little boats and try to get along the coast in it… to Dover, possibly, where they can take ship for the Continent. I’m going to get down there and see what I can find out.’

I watched him ride away. Sabrina was with me. She looked pleased; although she said nothing she was reminding me by her very expression that she had always known there was something wrong with both Aimée and her mother.

All through that day I waited. It was late evening when Lance came back, bringing Aimée with him. She seemed more dead than alive and unaware of what was happening to her. We got her to bed and the doctor was sent for. She was like someone in a trance.

While we were waiting for the doctor Lance explained to me. In desperation they must have taken one of the boats and attempted to get along the coast as he had thought they would. The sea was rough and their craft very frail and they could make no headway. They were washed back to the shore again and again, but when Lance found them they had been carried out to sea. He watched them, contemplating how he could best get out to them. He saw their boat capsize and the two women washed overboard.

He saw that they were in danger of drowning. Madame Legrand went under but he managed to save Aimée.

One or two of the grooms were with him, but they could not save Madame Legrand although they made several attempts. Aimée was half-drowned, but when Lance applied artificial respiration she survived. He thought the best thing was to get her back to the house, and here they were.

Aimée recovered in a day or so. She was deeply shocked and very frightened, but I think there was a certain relief that she could tell the truth. This she did, throwing herself on our mercy.

She was wicked; she was a cheat and a liar, but she begged our forgiveness and said that if we could possibly give her another chance she would go back to France and try to earn her living there as a dressmaker, which was what she should have stayed in France to do all the time.

I was sorry for Aimée. She was quite different now from the girl I had known first at Hessenfield Castle and later here in my home. She was very fearful of the future; she was subdued, almost cringing in her terror.

She seemed to be afraid of Lance and turned her pleading eyes on me as though begging me to save her from her deserts.

When we heard the whole story, Lance and I decided we must not blame her too much, for she had been under the influence of her dominating mother. She did what she did because she had always obeyed her mother without question, and it did not occur to her that she could do otherwise.

The truth as Aimée told it to us—and I do not think she was lying, for there was no point in doing so now—was as follows:

Giselle Legrand was in fact Germaine Blanc who had lived as a servant in the
hôtel
where my parents had lived. Germaine had an illegitimate daughter who was Aimée and whose father was the footman in a nearby
hôtel.
Because Germaine was in the household she saw my father frequently, which was why she could give such an accurate account of his habits and talk of him so knowledgeably. When he and my mother died almost at the same time through what was believed to be some sort of plague, Germaine had seized her opportunity. She had stolen my father’s watch and ring. It must have been easy to pilfer from his dead body. He had realized that he was suffering from some fatal illness and had written a letter to his brother about my mother and me; but as he did not mention our names—as he had already mentioned us to his brother—it was easy for Germaine to say that the letter was given to her by my father and concerned her and her child.