The Adultress (26 page)

“Derek!” Isabel was shocked that he should be so frank in my presence. She turned to me: “You must forgive Derek. He just speaks without thinking.”

“I understand,” I said. “Uncle Carl was very fond of Jessie Stirling and she looks after him. He showed his gratitude. And I expect Evalina did the same for her master.”

“He must be all of seventy,” said Derek. “What is she? Sweet sixteen?”

“A little more, I imagine. I met her when I was here before.”

“Andrew Mather is in good health and spirits,” said Dr. Forster. “I can vouch for that.”

“Then what are we tittle-tattling about?” demanded Isabel. “Let’s talk of pleasant things, isn’t it nice that the king and queen have a son. I think it is so right that the first born of a monarch should be a son. They say the little Prince of Wales is strong and healthy and the apple of his mother’s eye.”

“Well,” said Dr. Forster, “talking of pleasant things, we have our young king and queen, our little Prince of Wales and last November the Peace of Fontainebleau. We have come rather well out of the affair, I should say.”

“Indeed,” agreed Derek. “Canada from the French and Florida from Spain.”

“Yes, but we have given up our gains in the East Indies.”

“But we have kept Senegal and some of the West Indian islands.”

“I’m sorry the people don’t care so much for Mr. Pitt nowadays,” said Isabel. “He used to be so loved. People relied on him, and just because he has accepted a pension … Poor man, he has to live. Why shouldn’t he have a pension?”

They talked very knowledgeably about what was going on in the world. I gathered they all went to London from time to time, and I felt I had shut myself away too much in the country. I seemed to learn so much just by listening to them—even frivolous items like the cost of the king’s coach, which was seven thousand five hundred and sixty-two pounds, four shillings and-three pence. Isabel was aghast at the cost and thought the money might have been better spent. I learned that there had been riots at Drury Lane Theatre and Covent Garden because the manager refused to admit people at half price at the end of the third act; and that Lord Bute had resigned and Mr. Fox had become Lord Holland, and that John Wilkes had been committed to the Tower.

I liked the Forsters very much and perhaps what I particularly enjoyed so much was the normal lighthearted company.

“You must come to see us again,” said Isabel when I rose to go.

I said nothing would please me better.

“Are you going too, Charles? I thought you would stay to supper.”

“I’ll take Mistress Ransome back to the Court and then I’ll come back.”

“That’s kind of you,” I said, “but there’s no need.”

“It’s not a need … just a pleasure,” said the doctor smiling at me.

His horse was in the stables, and he walked it out to where I had tethered mine.

“You will come over again and see us. won’t you?” he said.

“You mean at Enderby. Yes, certainly. I did enjoy being there this afternoon. Your brother and his wife are charming.”

“A perfect example of the pleasures of matrimony,” he said lightly. I looked at him quickly for I thought I detected a cynical twist of his lips. I wondered about him as I realized I had been doing during the afternoon. Had he a wife? He was not young. He must have been in his early forties … a few years older than I was.

“Very pleasant to be with,” I said.

“Yes, Derek was lucky. Isabel is a delightful person.”

“I gathered so. It is amazing what they have done for the house. It was such a gloomy old place. Now it seems quite different.”

“It had quite a reputation, I believe. They had great trouble in getting servants at first. It’s different now. Isabel soon showed them that Enderby was a very happy place to work in.”

“You’re very fond of her.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“And you have a house in the town?”

“Yes, with the practice.”

“Do you enjoy living here?”

He hesitated. “It’s not the best spot for a doctor to flourish. It’s too sparsely populated. One’s patients are too scattered; but it does have the advantage of being near a hospital in which I am interested—and Derek and Isabel, of course.”

“And I expect you are there a good deal.”

“I practically live there. There is always a welcome and if I don’t appear for a few days I am severely reprimanded.”

“That must be very pleasant for you.”

“It is,” he said.

We had come to the Court. I said good-bye to Dr. Forster and he expressed hope that we should meet again, which I endorsed.

As I turned to ride towards the stable I saw Jessie. I guessed she was just returning from her visit to Amos Carew.

She was staring after Dr. Forster, who had turned his horse and was riding back to Enderby.

Jessie followed me into the stables; her face was very red, which may have been due to the exertion of walking.

“I saw you riding with … your friend. …”

“My friend? Oh, you mean Dr. Forster.”

“I didn’t know you knew him. …”

“I didn’t till this afternoon.”

I saw that her hand was trembling slightly. She seemed somewhat out of breath.

“Oh,” she said. “You met him for the first time.”

I suddenly realized that she was putting me through a cross-examination, which I resented. I dismounted and one of the grooms took my horse.

I smiled coolly at Jessie and walked so fast toward the house that she couldn’t keep up with me.

As I entered the hall one of the maids came running down. “Oh, mistress,” she said, “there’s a visitor.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

By that time Jessie came puffing up behind me, and the maid immediately addressed herself to her.

“He’s come to stay for a while, mistress,” she said.

“Who? Who?” cried Jessie. I had never before seen her so agitated.

At that moment Dickon appeared at the top of the staircase. He cried: “Hello …” and came running down.

I stared at him—no less aghast than Jessie.

He was smiling at me. “They insisted that I come,” he said. “They seemed to think you needed looking after.”

I was shocked and angry. My dislike of him was as great as it had ever been.

Jessie had recovered herself. “I must go and see about getting a room ready for you. And are you hungry?”

“Very,” said Dickon showing his teeth in a grin.

He was aware of my feelings and was enjoying the situation.

At supper, which was taken at six, Dickon was very talkative. Dr. Cabel joined us, and Jessie, in view of her very special position in the household, as usual sat with us.

She had got over her dismay and was very affable to Dickon. The doctor seemed pleased to see him too.

Dickon said: “I was simply badgered to come. Zipporah’s mother was so worried about her ewe lamb traveling alone.”

“It was hardly alone … with seven grooms.”

“Well, she considers it alone if you are not with a member of the family. ‘I shan’t have a moment’s peace,’ she said, ‘until I know you are there to take care of my little girl.’”

“Really, Dickon, you’re talking nonsense.”

“Or words to that effect,” he said. “So I simply could do nothing but gather together a little baggage and come along. I wanted to, you know. I wanted so much to see the place again. I’m longing to explore. What was the name of that wonderful manager?”

“Amos Carew,” I said.

“Oh, old Amos. He’s still here, I hope.”

“Yes,” said Jessie. “He’s still here.”

“He and I became very great friends,” went on Dickon. “I shall go and see him tomorrow and get him to take me round the estate again.”

“He’ll be that pleased,” said Jessie.

“And poor Eversleigh is not so well?”

“He’s as well as can be expected,” said Dr. Cabel, “after a seizure such as he has had.”

“And he is so lucky to have you here, Dr. Cabel.”

“I am glad to do all I can for an old friend.”

“Old friends, yes. By the way, I miss one familiar face. Your daughter.” He had turned his smile on Jessie.

She flushed—with pleasure I think. “Oh, Evalina did rather well for herself. She’s a married lady now.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, indeed. She’s Mistress Mather of Grasslands.”

“Isn’t that the other big house …? There were three of them.”

“Yes,” I said. “Eversleigh, the manorial residence, then Enderby and Grasslands.”

“The two rather less glorious luminaries,” said Dickon, “but nevertheless quite bright when not put in the shade. So your charming daughter is mistress of Grasslands.”

“Yes, she is. She’s settled in very nicely.”

“I wonder if she would like me to call.”

“I’m sure she would.”

I felt nauseated by the smile about his mouth; I was recalling that moment in the barn. He looked at me and knew it. He was becoming a very disturbing person now that he was reaching maturity.

We had left the table and dusk was falling when Dr. Cabel approached me.

He said: “Lord Eversleigh has had a restful day. He is conscious now. If you would like to see him for a few minutes?”

“Yes, I would.”

It was the same time as it had been last night, I noticed, and remarked on this.

“Yes, there is bound to be a certain regularity,” said Dr. Cabel. “That might persist for a day or so and then the pattern could change and the mornings could be the best time to see him. Are you ready now?”

He lighted a candle, for it was dark enough now for us to need one.

Dickon met us on the stairs.

“We are going to see Lord Eversleigh,” said the doctor.”

Dickon nodded and turned away as we went into the room. The doctor put his candle down on the mantelpiece beside the other one which was burning there. Jessie was at the bedside.

She put her fingers to her lips.

“Is he sleeping?” whispered Dr. Cabel.

“No. But he’s drowsy.”

“It won’t do any harm for you to say a word to him,” said the doctor to me. “I fancy he remembered your visit last night and was looking forward to another.”

I went to the bed. His face was turned away and, as last night, his nightcap was slightly askew; his hand with the signet ring lay outside the coverlet. I bent to take it and just at that moment there was a movement at the head of the bed.

Dickon stood there.

Both Jessie and the doctor turned sharply. Jessie let out an exclamation.

The doctor went swiftly to Dickon and whispered something.

Jessie turned to me: “He wants you to take his hand. He knows you’re here.” I took the hand and kissed it just below the ring. I was thinking of Dickon’s impertinence in coming in when it had been made clear that he was not wanted.

I felt the fingers curl round mine, though he did not move his position and half his face was still buried in the pillow; but his lips moved and I thought I heard him say: “Zipporah.”

I bent over him.

“I’m here, Uncle Carl. You must get better. There’s so much to talk about.”

His eyes were closed and his head moved slightly. The doctor came back to the bed; he had evidently prevailed on Dickon to depart.

He seemed a little agitated. He raised his eyebrows and nodded to me.

“Better go now.” He mouthed the words.

I followed him out of the room. Jessie joined us.

“That was rather upsetting,” said Dr. Cabel.

“You mean Dickon’s coming in like that?”

“Yes, we have to be careful.”

“But my uncle couldn’t have been aware of it.”

“He was aware of something. I sensed the change in him. We have to be so careful. That is why I want only you to see him even when he is well enough to stand the strain of visitors.”

“It was all so quick … and quite silent … he couldn’t have been aware …”

Dr. Cabel smiled at me as though he couldn’t expect me to understand.

Then he said to Jessie: “I think I’ll go in. It might be necessary to give him something to calm him down.”

I said good night to them. I would go to my room. I wanted to read awhile.

I thought they were making a great fuss, although I deplored Dickon’s irresponsibility in walking in to the sick room when it had been made so clear to him that he wasn’t expected to do so. On the other hand I could not see that Uncle Carl, who seemed only just able to recognize me, could possibly have known about it.

I went to my room but I couldn’t read. I was disturbed. First of all by Dickon’s visit. What I wanted to think of was the pleasant afternoon I had had at Enderby but now these strange thoughts were persisting. It had all seemed so odd suddenly in that sick room that evening, although he had been lying in almost the same position with his face half buried in the bedclothes. His only response had been in the pressure of his fingers and his lips moving to say my name. I wished that I could see him alone. I supposed that would make no difference. But in the room tonight there had been something … I was not sure what … something strange … something that was worrying me.

I must go to bed. Perhaps tomorrow I might look in at Enderby again. Was that too soon? Perhaps not, as I should not be staying here long. They had said to come again.

I liked Isabel Forster very much. She was the sort of woman in whom I could confide. It was strange how my fate seemed wrapped up in Enderby. I half wanted to go and half wanted to stay away, for I couldn’t enter the place without remembering that day when Gerard had said he would show me the house. I wondered whether the brocade curtains still enclosed the four-poster bed or whether Isabel Forster had changed the inside of the house as much as she had outside. I felt if I went to sleep I would dream of that house … lying in the bed there with my lover beside me … while the sounds of the nearby fair echoed in my ears. Then I would long to be back in time. I was never going to forget.

So I lay thinking of long-ago adventures, of my own sweet daughter in whom I fancied I sometimes saw something of Gerard. Oh, it was long ago. It must be forgotten as he surely would forget. I wanted to go home. There was very little I could do here. Uncle Carl was in his doctor’s hands. If he grew very much worse they could let me know. He might go on for years in this state … and it was clear that Jessie—with the help of the doctor—would do everything in her power to keep him alive.