The adulteress (37 page)

He occupied my thoughts a good deal during that journey. In fact he had from the moment we had met. I felt there had been a tragedy in his life and that it had set that melancholy look on his features. I wondered why Isabel, who was a rather garrulous woman not given to harboring secrets, had said very little about her brother-in-law apart from the fact that he was a good man whom she very much admired.

The journey was uneventful, the weather being perfect for it, and as Derek had made careful reservations and was a frequent traveler on the route we were very comfortable at the inn where we stayed the night.

To my great delight James Fenton was already at the Black Swan and his pleasure at seeing me was great. He looked well, I thought, and when I inquired after Hetty and the children he assured me that they were in good health too. I introduced him to the Forsters and I was delighted that they seemed immediately to like each other.

During the morning of the day after our arrival all the Forsters went out discreetly leaving me with James. Charles said

he had to see about ordering supplies for the hospital; Derek had business and he took Isabel with him. James told me that he was glad we could be alone. He wanted to know how things were with us.

He was surprised to hear that we were at Eversleigh. I explained that that was why we had been unable to let him know I would be here. The letter had had to be sent on and then it was too late to let him know.

"Hetty will be so interested to hear that I've seen you," he said. "She would have liked to come with me but there are the children, you know."

We discussed the children for a while and he asked after Lottie.

I explained that we had not been so very long at Eversleigh.

"And Jean-Louis?"

I shook my head sadly. "He never really recovered from that accident at the fire all those years ago. He never complains so it is difficult to know how he is, but sometimes he looks so tired. I think Eversleigh is too much for him."

"It is bigger than Clavering, isn't it?"

"Much bigger. We do want a man to act as manager."

I saw a rather wistful look in his eyes which made my heart beat faster.

Then he said: "Shouldn't be difficult to find someone."

I told him we were being rather wary and gave him a brief resume of what had happened.

He was astounded and found my story difficult to believe. He listened avidly.

"My goodness, Mistress Zipporah, you had a lucky escape."

"It was strange that the one who saved me should be . . . Dickon."

I saw his fists clench and unclench.

"Well," he said at length, "it turned out all right then, and you're here. If I hear of a good man . . . someone I can recommend . . ."

I was sinking into deeper gloom every minute. I realized now that my conviction that I must come and see James was because I had had some wild hope that I might persuade him to come back.

"Well, how are you getting on at the farm?" I asked.

He was silent for a few moments and that silence was significant.

"Oh ... all right," he said. "I'd like to be on my own, of course. Two people don't always see eye to eye."

"You mean it's not working out?" Hope was springing up again. I hoped he didn't hear the lilt in my voice.

"Oh, it's working all right. It's just that . . . well, there are things I miss."

"Eversleigh is a fine estate," I said. "You should see it. Jean-Louis often talks of you. He says you were the best man they'd ever had or were ever likely to." I decided to plunge: "Could you come back to us, James . . . ? There's a pleasant house . . . everything you could want."

He shook his head. "I won't beat about the bush," he said. "I'd be glad to. I often think of the good times we used to have. Jean-Louis and I always saw eye to eye. Something I don't do with my cousin . . . but even at Eversleigh I might see him . . . Dickon."

"He hasn't been over yet. It would be very rarely. We're quite a way from each other."

"I wouldn't trust myself. He could come over any time. No . . . I'll stay where I am. I'm safe there. It's not ideal. I'll make no bones about it. If it weren't for him I'd be there like a shot. Well, come to think about it if it weren't for him I'd never have gone."

"James," I said, "you don't know how badly we want you."

"I want to come . . . but no. Not with him likely to turn up at any time. It wouldn't do, Mistress Zipporah, and that's flat."

"I wish I could persuade you."

"Wouldn't be any need for persuasion but for that one thing. Hetty couldn't bear to see him either."

"She's got over all that."

"Never will completely. But we manage. He's right out of sight and that helps to put him out of mind."

"Jean-Louis was so sorry he couldn't see you. We did wonder if you knew anybody."

"Well, that's something I might do. I could hear of someone. I'll keep my ears to the ground and if I find a suitable man . . . I'll have him down there in no time."

I saw that it was the best I could do.

"I wish you could see Jean-Louis. He'd be so pleased. Why don't you come and stay with us for a few days? I assure you that there would be no possibility of your meeting Dickon. They are considering coming for Christmas but that's way ahead."

He hesitated and said he would think about it.

"The journey only takes two days. . . . Not a lot of time really. Do think very seriously about it, James."

He did and at length decided that he would accompany us.

I was delighted, although my scheme had failed. I don't know why I had felt that I had to come to London to see James. I had been convinced that something good would come out of it, and the good must be that he would come back to us.

The Forsters, who had taken a liking to James—and he to them—were very pleased to hear that he was going to travel back with us. "First, though," said Isabel, "we must remember that we were having a jaunt to London and we must take advantage of the opportunity to do those things which we could not do at home.

"Charles," she said, "you know how you always liked the theater. What if we all went to Drury Lane?"

Everyone agreed that that would be an excellent idea and accordingly I found myself seated in the stalls with Charles next to me, enjoying every moment, for it was a privilege to see the great Garrick perform. Charles, who had evidently been an ardent theatergoer at some time, was very knowledgeable about the stage. He told me that the best performance he had ever seen was that of Peg Woffington playing with Garrick in the Beaux' Stratagem.

"Alas," he said, "she is no more, though only a few years ago she was striding across the boards full of vitality. A great actress, and she and Garrick, you know, were lovers. It was believed they would marry. It was a surprise to us all when he left Peg for that foreign dancer . . . Eva Maria Violetti."

Much of his melancholy had lifted. I had noticed that when we had driven through London. He pointed out certain landmarks to me almost with pride. I thought: This was once his home and he loved it.

I was carried away by the play and the players and I sensed that my enthusiasm pleased him. He said: "I once knew ac-

tors ... I was a great theatergoer in my young days. Mind you, it's a hard life. They look so pleased with themselves when they can win the approval of the audience that you'd think they hadn't a care in the world beyond that. The reality is somewhat different."

I said: "Surely you were never on the stage?"

He gave a sudden laugh. "Me? Good heavens, no." Then the mask seemed to slip over his face and his mood changed. I longed to know what had happened to him to make him so withdrawn, for I was sure something had. I was intrigued because I had at times been aware of a different man peeping out from behind the mask. I wanted to bring out that man. I was burning with curiosity to know more about Charles For-ster.

We walked back through the streets to the inn.

"Safe," said Derek, "because there are so many of us. There are plenty of pickpockets about after dark."

Charles took my arm as we walked along the narrow street, not only to assure me of his protection but to keep me free of the mud which was splashed up as the coaches rattled by.

I felt very happy that night; even though my mission in getting James to come and act as manager had failed I could not despair and I was delighted that he had agreed to come back with us.

We supped on cold venison and pigeon pie with muscatel wine and it all tasted delicious. I was excited by the London life and I remembered the days of my childhood when my parents had had a house in Albemarle Street and we had spent much of our time there. My father had preferred the town life; he had spent a great deal of time at his clubs and the houses of gambling friends but he too had imbued in me a love for the metropolis. I did not realize until this moment how much I had missed it although I had paid other visits to London before.

We discussed the play. Charles seemed to have thrown off his melancholy once more and spoke of it, criticizing certain points, praising others.

"You are so knowledgeable," I said.

"Oh yes," said Isabel, smiling at her brother-in-law. "I always enjoy going to the theater when Charles is a member of the party."

"I hope that is no reflection on me," said Derek.

"Of course not, idiot," said Isabel. "I like the way in which Charles brings out certain things, making it more of an experience."

"I always thought that the best part of an evening at the theater was the aftermath—when the play and players are on trial, as it were."

"The inquest," said Derek.

"Just imagine," pointed out Charles, "Cromwell shut down the theater. He might have known the people would never accept that."

"It was his first step to destruction," put in James. "Thank goodness we're at peace at last."

"There is every sign that we are not taking advantage of the peace," said Charles. "We need Pitt. But he goes into retirement worn out by a war which could be said to have been won by his wise policies . . . and we've had years of unwise government . . . not helped by the king."

"Charles gets very fierce on the subject of the colonies," said Isabel to me.

I listened. I liked hearing Charles talk. He was a different man again, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. He was passionate in his defense of Pitt; scornful in his denunciation of the policies of the government supported by the king.

"What about the colonies, Charles?" asked Derek.

"They're getting restive. We shall have America up in arms against us if we don't show a little restraint ... a little common sense. But you'll never get that from the government."

"I like the royal family," said Isabel. "The king and the queen are so . . . homely."

Everybody laughed and then we were discussing our plans for departure.

"We do have one day left to us . . . only one, did you realize it?" said Derek.

"I have certain business which I must do tomorrow," said James.

"We have to visit the Chensons, remember?" said Isabel to Derek.

"Oh yes ... we promised we would. They don't know you're here, Charles, but they'll be pleased to see you and you must come along with us, Zipporah."

Charles said: "I don't think they're expecting me and they're certainly not expecting Zipporah. She was saying she

has never been to Ranelagh. I was wondering whether I might suggest to her that we take a look at it . . . together."

I felt the color rising to my cheeks. They were all watching me, and I tried not to sound too ecstatic as I said that I had always wanted to see Ranelagh.

That was the happiest day I had spent since that period when I had abandoned myself to the joy of being with Gerard. In a way this was similar. I was able to forget everything that had disturbed my peace of mind for years. I suppose always at the back of my mind was the fear that one day my sin would be discovered; and although I almost forgot it for long periods it was always there as a vague shadow, an apprehension. I would sometimes remember with a jolt, and my peace of mind would be in ruins.

Charles Forster could make me forget. That was significant in some way. For my part I was so anxious to make him light-hearted, to make him forget whatever it was that oppressed him. I understood what it meant to be oppressed in such a way.

We were in a mood to enjoy the day, both of us. Charles was such an interesting companion when he cast aside his gloom. I found his conversation lively and he made me realize how much I had been tucked away from affairs. Vaguely I remembered the excitement of being with my father, who used to talk to me sometimes. He had never been serious like Charles, but he had talked of worldly matters; I realized that I had been rather shut in between my mother, Sabrina and yes . . . Jean-Louis.

However, I was determined to enjoy the day and as I was sure Charles felt the same, it was inevitable that we did.

Charles knew London so well that he could explain so much to me. First he took me riding through the streets, for he said that Ranelagh should not be seen in broad daylight. It was meant to enchant like a veiled beauty who might not be able to face up to the harsh reality of a too bright sun.

I said: "That throws a new light on your character. I should have thought you stood for the bare stark truth."

"There are times when it is better to veil it," he said.

"So you are a romantic after all?" I asked lightly.

"I see that you have put me into a niche—unromantic, dour, looking on the grim side of life . . . Had you?"

I hesitated. "I thought there was a certain sadness about

you. But beneath it . . . well, I just think if you could throw that aside you might be very merry."

He put his head on one side, smiling at me.

"For today," he said, "this very special day, I am going to do that."

"Can you?" I asked.

"With your help," he replied. "You will see."

"Tell me your plans."

"We ride through the streets to an inn I know of where it is possible to get the very best steak pies in London. Do you like steak pies? Ah, I see you hesitate. Withhold your verdict until you have tried the Rainbow variety. The Rainbow is an inn in Fleet Street. They have excellent roast beef and pork, if you prefer that. It is the place to eat for those who like good food. Will you trust me?"