The Adultress (6 page)

“Come in,” I called.

The handle no longer moved. There was silence. I sat up in bed, my heart beating so fast that I could hear it. Then I thought I detected the sound of retreating footsteps. I opened the door and looked out but I could see nothing.

The incident was certainly not conducive to sleep. I lay there listening.

It must have been half an hour or so later when I heard footsteps again. This time I slipped out of bed and stood behind the door, waiting.

Yes, they had paused at my door and the handle was slowly turned. This time I did not speak. I stood pressed against the wall, waiting, while the door opened slowly.

I had been expecting the stately figure of Jessie, but to my amazement it was a young girl who could not have been more than twelve years old who entered. She went straight to the bed and gasped to see it empty. By this time I had shut the door and, leaning against it, said: “Hello. What do you want?”

She spun round and stared at me, her eyes wide and bright. I think if I had not been barring her way she would have rushed out of the room.

My fears had ebbed away. I saw at once that instead of a rather sinister presence all I had to deal with was a curious little girl.

“Well,” I said, “why have you come to pay me a visit at such an hour? It’s very late, you know.”

Still she said nothing. She stared down at her bare feet showing beneath her nightgown.

I went toward her. She looked at me in panic and I could see that she was preparing to make a dash for the door.

“Now you are here,” I said, “and I must say in a rather unceremonious fashion, I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I … I only wanted to see you.”

“Who are you?”

“Evalina.”

“And what are you doing here in this house … who are your parents?”

“We live here. This is my mama’s house really. …”

I knew then. There was a faint resemblance. I said: “You must be Jessie’s daughter?”

She nodded.

“I see, and you live here in your mother’s house?”

“It’s Lordy’s really. …”

“Whose?”

“The old man. Lord Eversleigh’s his real name. But we always call him Lordy.”

“We … ?”

“It’s my mama’s name for him.”

“I see. And he is a very great friend of yours, I suppose, since he lets you live in his house and call him Lordy.”

“He couldn’t do without us.”

“Does he say so?”

She nodded.

“Why did you creep into my bedroom?”

“I saw you when you came.”

“I saw you. You were at the top of the staircase.”

“You didn’t see me.”

“I did. You should be a little more careful. You do seem to get caught. Look at you now.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see when I have finished the interrogation.”

“The what?” She looked frightened, as though she feared some terrible ordeal.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. A lot will depend on how you answer.”

“My mother would be angry. She gets angry sometimes. She’d say I was careless not to make sure you were asleep before I came in.”

“So it would have been quite acceptable if you had not been caught.”

She looked at me in wonderment. “Of course.”

“A strange philosophy,” I said.

“You do talk funny. Why have you come here? Is it to make trouble with Lordy?”

“I came because Lordy—as you call him—invited me.”

“My mother is cross with him about that. She can’t understand how he could ask you without telling her. She’s asking a lot of questions … who took the message, and all that. I reckon there’ll be a terrible row.”

“Why shouldn’t Lord Eversleigh invite whom he wishes to his house?”

“Well, he should ask mama first, shouldn’t he?”

“Is your mother the housekeeper here?”

“Well, it’s all different, you know.”

“In what way?”

She giggled. Her face, which had seemed innocent at one stage, had become rather sly. She might be young but she was knowledgeable in some matters and she managed to convey a meaning to the relationship between her mother and Lord Eversleigh which had come to me as a possibility and now seemed a certainty.

This child was not the innocent I had been imagining. She was a girl who listened, who spied and whose curiosity was so intense that it brought her from her bed at night to take a look at the new arrival who had brought such consternation to her mother.

I did not pursue that line of conversation. The child’s salacious giggle had in a way answered it and certainly I did not want to discuss this dubious relationship with her.

She said: “I’ll go now. Good night. You ought to have been asleep.”

“It would certainly have suited your convenience. Tell me, did you intend to examine my baggage?”

“I only wanted to have a quick look.”

“Now you’re here you will go at my pleasure. You will now answer a few questions for me. How long have you been here?”

“It’s about two years.”

“You are happy here?”

“It’s lovely. Different from …”

“From where you were before. Where were you?”

“In London.”

“You and your mother. Where is your father?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Never had one … proper. … There were uncles. … They never stayed long, though.”

I felt disgusted. The child was building up a picture of what I had suspected.

Jessie was a loose woman who had somehow managed to dupe Lord Eversleigh. How had she done it? I couldn’t imagine any of the ancestors I remembered being taken in by such a woman. They would not have had her under their roofs for an hour.

“How did you get here?”

She was puzzled. I guessed she really did not know. All she could say was that they had lived near Covent Garden and her mother had had lodgers. … “People from the theater,” she said. “My mama went on the stage once.”

She looked a little wistful and I said: “You enjoyed that life then … better than this.”

She hesitated. “There’s good things to eat here … and mama’s better … and Lordy couldn’t do without us.”

“Does he say so?”

“He’s always telling mama so. She’s always asking him.”

“Where is your bedroom?”

She pointed vaguely upward.

“And your mother?”

“With Lordy, of course.”

I felt sick with horror. It was just as I had suspected. I wondered with apprehension what the next day would bring.

“I’m getting cold,” she said.

I was too and I felt I had discovered a great deal from Evalina.

“You’d better go back to your room up there now,” I said.

She moved toward the door with alacrity.

“If I am going to stay here for a short while I want a key to my door.”

“I’ll bring it back.”

“So you have it.”

She smiled, nodded, hunching her shoulders. She looked mischievous and childish.

“Do you mean to say you took it so that you could creep in and look round my room when you wanted to?”

She cast down her eyes, still smiling.

“Is it in your room now?”

She nodded.

“Then go up and bring it down to me at once.”

She hesitated. “If I do you won’t say anything about this.

I hesitated. There was a look of cupidity in her face. She was remarkably like her mother.

“All right,” I said. “It’s a bargain. Give me the key and your visit shall be a secret between us. Though I advise you not to do such a thing again.”

She nodded and slipped away. In a short time she was back with the key.

She was smiling slyly at me.

Still wondering what revelations would come in the next days I locked the door and, feeling secure, went back to my bed, where after a while I slept deeply until morning.

I was awakened by the arrival of one of the maids bringing me hot water. The sun was streaming into the room showing me a shabbiness which I had not noticed in the darkness.

“Good morning,” I said. “What is your name?”

“Moll,” answered the girl. “Mistress Jessie says to come down when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” I said, and, giving me a curious look, she went out.

I got out of bed immediately while thoughts of last night came back to me. Today I should discover the true state of affairs and I was very much looking forward to seeing my kinsman. Lordy! I found myself smiling rather ruefully at the sobriquet. I was sure it had been bestowed by Jessie and it was really very revealing. So it was in a mood of expectancy that I descended to the dining room.

Jessie was already there. She was in a morning gown of cambric—lilac-colored and elaborately embroidered. She wore slightly less jewelry than last night but she was still overloaded with it. Her maquillage was more noticeable and the sun was more harsh than the gentle light of candles.

She greeted me effusively. “Oh, there you are! Had a good sleep, I hope. My goodness me, you must have been well nigh wore out last night.” She had abandoned the attempt at refinement which she had adopted on our first meeting and I think I liked the present style better. It was certainly more natural. “Was the bed comfortable? Made up in a hurry, I’m afraid, and you know what these maids are like. It’s one body’s work looking after them.”

I said that my bed was comfortable, but “it is always a little different in a strange bed.”

“I’d agree on that one.” Her laugh was high pitched and she was near enough to give me one of her playful pushes which I was too late to evade.

“Now what will you have to eat? Not expecting visitors, we wasn’t, so you’ve caught us on the hop, so’s to speak. But being as I’m one for the victuals, they don’t do so bad in the kitchen.”

It was true there was plenty to eat. There was fish and pies containing meat. I was not hungry and took a little fish, which was all I could manage. Jessie meanwhile sat opposite me as she had on the previous night.

“My! You eat like a little bird,” she said. I guessed she had already breakfasted but she could not resist taking some of the pie and eating it in a way expressive of great enjoyment, smacking her lips and licking her fingers.

I said: “When shall I be able to see Lord Eversleigh?”

“Now, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He’s not so good in the mornings, poor pet. He needs time to pull himself together, you might say. Oh, he’s no spring chicken, though he’s good for his age.” Her eyes sparkled rather reminiscently, I thought, and I was sure that had the table not separated us it would have been an occasion for one of her pushes.

“I am sure he will wish to see me when he knows that I am here.”

“Oh yes, I expect you’re right. Let’s say give him an hour or two, eh? I’ll let you know when he’s ready. Say about eleven o’clock.”

I said I should look forward to eleven.

She stood up. “Well, I reckon you’ll want to get those bags unpacked, eh? One or two things you may want to do. Take a walk in the gardens. They’re very nice. Don’t go too far away, though, and come in at eleven. I reckon he’ll be ready then.”

I went to my room, unpacked the little I had brought with me and then, taking her advice, went into the gardens. I noticed that they were not as well cared for as they might have been. The general atmosphere of the house pervaded the gardens.

At eleven o’clock I was back in the house and Jessie was waiting for me in the hall.

“His lordship is excited. He wants you to go up at once.”

I followed her up the stairs. Memories from my childhood were coming back to me and parts of the house were already seeming familiar to me. I knew that we were going to the main bedroom. I remembered coming here with my mother to see my great-grandmother when she was ill.

Jessie unceremoniously opened the door and I followed her in.

There was the four-poster bed and sitting up in it an old man. His face was a whitish yellow and there was scarcely any flesh on his bones; he might have been a corpse but for his large lively brown eyes.

“Here she is, Lordy. Here’s the little lady.”

Those bright eyes were turned on me and a thin hand came out to grip mine.

“Zipporah!” he said. “So it’s you, Clarissa’s girl. You came.”

I took his hand and held it firmly. His eyes glistened a little. Here at least was a welcome. I could tell that he was very glad I had come.

“She came because you asked her, pet,” said Jessie. “And didn’t let me know. Not very nice of you, was it, lovey? Arrived last night in the dark … and having no welcome ready. If you’d told me I’d have set the bells ringing for her.”

He smiled at me almost deprecatingly. “Jessie takes good care of me,” he said.

“I should think she does!” said Jessie. “Though sometimes you don’t always deserve it, eh, naughty Lordy?”

He smiled at me. Was he trying to tell me something? If he was it was obvious that he wouldn’t do so while Jessie was present.

“I am so pleased to see you,” I said.

“And your husband?”

“He hasn’t come with me. There was a fire in a barn nearby and he broke his leg attempting to put it out.”

“So you came alone?”

“Accompanied by seven grooms.”

He nodded. “Good of you. Good of you.”

His dark eyes were expressive, luminous.

“Tell me,” he went on. “Tell me, how is your mother? A dear girl … always. And your father … that was a tragedy. I knew him. One of the finest gentlemen that ever lived. And Sabrina … eh …”

“They are all well.”

“Pity Sabrina married that damned Jacobite. We … we put paid to them, eh? Traitors all of them.”

Jessie had sat by the bed. There was a bowl of sweetmeats on a nearby table. She took one and began sucking it. I guessed they had been put there for her benefit and the fact was borne home to me that she shared this bedchamber with that poor skeleton of a man in the bed. The idea of them together would have been comical if it hadn’t seemed so tragic. She sat in a chair smiling at us benignly; yet behind that bland smile was the look of a watchdog. She was suspicious and angry that I had been sent for without her knowledge. I wondered how far he was under her control. Not completely, I suppose; but she was clearly a power in the house.

“Lordy can still get wild over the Jacobites,” commented Jessie.