The Return of the Gypsy (33 page)

There was one occasion when I found myself alone with him. I had been to Eversleigh from Grasslands when I came face to face with him. We said good morning but could hardly pass on without a word.

He added that it was a fine morning and after that we exchanged a few trivialities. Then he said: “I hardly ever see you, Jessica, without a lot of people being present.”

“I suppose that is inevitable. We are a large family.”

“Are you … happy?”

I was startled: “Why yes, of course … very happy.”

He was frowning slightly, looking over my head, back to Grasslands.

“I’m glad,” he said.

“And I hear from Amaryllis that you are going from strength to strength with your new warehouses and so on. Business, I gather, flourishes.”

“She talks to you about the warehouses?”

“Yes. I expect you will be proudly showing her round them one day.”

Something in his manner attracted my attention. He seemed a little watchful.

“She wouldn’t really be interested. Business is not for ladies.”

“I should have thought anyone would be interested. I am. And Amaryllis particularly, since she has a share in them.”

“Oh, when I am here I like to forget all about that.”

“So you are not one of those businessmen who is obsessed by work?”

“Only when I am engaged in it.”

“I suppose you have time when you are in London for enjoyment?”

He looked startled.

“I mean clubs … and all that. Jonathan said you knew such places. After all it was you who introduced him to Frinton’s.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “That was disastrous, wasn’t it? I wish I had known he was going to make a fool of himself. He just asked me about a few clubs and I mentioned that one. I didn’t realize he would go to the tables.”

“I think he has learned his lesson.”

“Your father does not forget it, I’m afraid.”

“Poor Jonathan! It just happens to be something my father feels very strongly about.”

“I see his point, don’t you?”

“Of course. But I think Jonathan will do very well. We’re all very fond of him.”

“He’s a charming fellow … if a little weak.”

“Just that one incident! We mustn’t judge him on that. How is Amaryllis?”

“Very well.”

“Will you tell her I will come over to see her tomorrow?”

“She’ll be delighted.”

“Well, I must go now.”

He took my hand and held it lingeringly. There was an expression in his eyes which I could not understand.

I was glad to get away. He made me feel a little uneasy. I suppose it was because of the past and because once I had thought I might be on the verge of falling in love with him. He was attractive and that touch of mystery added to his charm. I had been young and romantic then. I wondered how many girls fell in love not exactly with a person but because the time seemed ripe and someone appears at that moment. Falling in love with love, was what it was commonly called; and what an everyday occurrence it must be! I had been ready to do just that with Peter Lansdon. The romantic circumstances of our meeting, his immediate interest and what I thought of as the beginning of a courtship … oh yes, that was the trappings of romance and I was ready to fall in love as most girls did.

Now I had had time for reflection and I realized that I should never have truly loved Peter Lansdon; there was something about him which repelled me, some element of secrecy. That might be intriguing in a way but it seemed now a little sinister. Perhaps I compared him with Edward, who was so open, so frank, so honest that beside him all other men seemed devious.

The next day I called on Amaryllis. She was showing the first signs of pregnancy. Her baby was due in August and Helena at this time was only nine months old.

“How are you, my fruitful vine?” I asked.

She kissed me and said she was feeling better than she had in the last weeks. “The first three months are the worst,” she added.

“You should know,” I said. “You seem to be making a practice of this sort of thing.”

“Well, one has to endure the discomfort but it is wonderful when the baby arrives.”

“Yes, I can imagine it.”

She looked at me wistfully. “I think of you a lot,” she said.

“Now you will have more interesting things to think of.”

“I worry … a little.”

“About me?”

“Well, I know Edward is a dear, but the life … My mother was saying …”

“I really must stop this,” I said. “I’m perfectly all right. I’m living my life the way I want it. I saw Peter yesterday.”

“Oh?” She looked at me covertly.

“Yes, we had a little chat.”

“He told me. Jessica …” I sensed she was going to say something apologetic because she felt uneasy about marrying Peter. She had thought—as many had—that I was the one in whom he was interested and I daresay it was a surprise for her when he proposed. I had had enough of people’s speculations about my feelings and all their anxiety because I had married an invalid.

I said quickly: “Peter is delighted about the child, I suppose.”

“Oh yes. He wants a boy.”

“Men always want boys. They think they are so much more important. I wonder they don’t put girls out on the bleak mountainside and let them freeze to death. Poor, unwanted little thing.”

“Oh, Jessica, what nonsense you talk! He loves Helena. We all do. The idea of any harm coming to her …” She shivered.

“It is just this obsession with boys which irritates me. My father is just the same, and when you think how he has always enjoyed the company of women … far more than that of men, you can’t help laughing.”

“You were always very serious about things like that. Edward is serious, too. I think you are very well suited.”

“We understand each other. And you and Peter … you are not much alike.”

“Ours is the attraction of opposites.”

“I see.” And as I looked at her frank open face it was borne home to me that this must be the case.

It was later, when I was in Edward’s room and James was putting extra logs on the fire. The wind had turned cold.

“We must expect it,” said Edward. “March is still with us and we have to endure more wintry weather before the spring.”

The fire blazed up and James turned to me.

“Shall I get the chess board for you?” he asked. “That was an interesting game you left yesterday.”

Edward said: “I think, my dear, I have cornered you. I see mate in the next two moves unless …”

“Unless!” said James. “That’s the point. Mrs. Barrington always fights best when she is in difficulties.”

“I think you are right,” agreed Edward. “How many times have I anticipated victory and had it in my grasp only to be outwitted at the very last move.”

“It’s a great quality,” said James, “to be able to do your best when your back is against the wall.”

“Thank you, James,” I said. “I am glad you both appreciate my indomitable nature.”

James set out the table and carried the chess board to it.

“There,” he said. “Not a piece but where it was during the heat of yesterday’s battle.”

We concentrated on the board and after watching us for a while James went off.

It must have been about ten minutes later when he came back. He dashed into the room and it was obvious that he had exciting news which he was eager to tell us.

“What is it?” cried Edward.

“Mr. Jonathan has just come from Eversleigh with the news. He’s on his way up. Napoleon has escaped from Elba.”

So the euphoria of the last months was wiped out in a single moment. We were back to the fears of the past. The lion had escaped from bondage. He was on the rampage again.

Peace was shattered. Everyone was talking about the escape and asking what it meant. Was it all going to start again? Were we going to be plunged into war?

My mother was particularly bitter. The visit to Burgundy was still fresh in her mind; she was making plans for Charlot to bring his family to visit us and our going over to Burgundy in the summer. And now this miserable wretch had escaped and was preparing to start it all up again.

Edward and I were often at Eversleigh. There was much to talk about, and the conversation was all about Napoleon and the future which concerned us all so much.

David took a calmer view than the others. My father was apt to be choleric and his hatred of the French clouded his opinions. Jonathan was not sufficiently involved. Peter was more concerned with what effect it was going to have on business; so it was David to whom I listened with the greatest attention. We used to sit over dinner talking long after the meal was finished.

David said: “Napoleon is the idol of France and temporary defeat cannot alter that. They have never taken kindly to the King and it is to be expected that they will turn him out now that their hero has returned.”

“I heard they were welcoming him throughout France,” said my father. “The fools! Do they want war? Do they want conquests?”

“Of course they do,” said Jonathan. “Who does not want conquests?”

“Those conquests bring no good to the people,” went on my father.

“They enjoy the return of the victorious armies. They like to think of Europe under the control of Napoleon.”

“He’s certainly made kings and rulers of the members of his family,” said my mother. “And irrespective of their merits.”

“That is a weakness,” agreed David. “And one most human beings are guilty of. But let us face facts. The return of the Bourbons was unpopular. Louis had turned the army against him by appointing émigrés to high posts when a short while ago they were fighting with the allies against France.”

“They were fighting for the restoration of the monarchy,” said my father hotly.

“That was against France,” pointed out David. “Now Napoleon has appeared as the liberator of France, the army is rallying to him.”

“And now,” added my mother wearily, “it is all going to start again.”

“I heard,” said Peter, “that he has become fat. And part of his success was due to his physical fitness.”

“But he was an epileptic, wasn’t he?” asked Claudine.

“Well, he had been in his youth,” replied David. “But that has not prevented his being the most outstanding man in Europe. Whatever you think of him, you have to admit that.”

“We’ll find his match,” said my father. “I’d like to hear what the Duke is doing about this.”

“It is a blessing that he remained close at hand,” added David.

“Yes,” agreed my father. “That idiot Liverpool wanted to send him to America. Thank God the Duke refused to go. Perhaps he saw something like this coming. In any case he did not want to move far away while Napoleon was alive even though he was in exile.”

“What will happen now?” asked Amaryllis.

Her husband smiled at her. “For that, my dear, we have to wait and see.”

We did not have to wait long. Wellington took command of the army and left for Belgium at the beginning of April. Napoleon was going from strength to strength. He was proclaimed Liberator of France. Louis had fled to Ghent and in the streets of Paris people were dancing in transports of joy.

The conquering hero had returned to them.

Each day we awoke to a feeling of expectancy mingled with dread. He had been so victorious in the past. He was back. He was a legend and legends are hard to defeat. But we had a mighty Duke and he was such another hero to us. Defeat seemed as impossible for him as the French saw it for Napoleon.

The Duke was in Flanders where he would join up with Blucher and our Prussian allies. Feelings ran high. “This time,” said the people, “we are going to see the end of Old Boney for all time.”

Through May this mood continued. Napoleon, brilliant general that he was, was doing everything he could to prevent the union of Wellington and Blucher.

June had come—hot, uneasy days. Napoleon had defeated the Prussians at Ligny and that news was received with great gloom which lifted considerably when we heard that the Prussian army had managed to escape.

Wellington was at the village of Waterloo where, said my father, he could keep an eye on Brussels while he awaited the arrival of Blucher’s army.

We knew how important this battle was. It was going to decide the fate of Europe. On it rested Napoleon’s Empire and our own future well-being and safety.

The French had Napoleon but we must never forget, my father told us, that we had Wellington.

And so to the great battle which will never be forgotten in our history.

Forever I shall remember the day when news came of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo, bringing with it the knowledge that Napoleon had been defeated for ever. From now on we should be able to sleep peacefully in our beds at night.

What days they were following that historic battle. There was rejoicing everywhere. Bonfires, dancing in the streets … Waterloo! It was a word which was written in glittering letters on our country’s history and the man who had made that victory possible was everybody’s hero. I thought of how people had dragged his carriage from Westminster Bridge to Hamilton Place. That would be nothing compared with the welcome he would receive now.

He was the mighty Duke, England’s great son, the saviour of the world who had freed Europe from the tyrants. His praises were sung in stately mansions and in cottages; men fought out the battle on their table cloths after dinner and we were no exception. How many times had I seen the pepper and salt and cutlery laid out on a table Waterloo. “Here is Napoleon… Here is Wellington. Napoleon wanted to finish off the English before the arrival of Blucher. Wellington’s idea was to hold the ground … here … until they came. And hold the ground they did against all attacks. Now in the afternoon the Prussians were sighted. Here they are approaching. It is the end for Napoleon. He knows it. Ney knows it. They’re beaten. Napoleon flees to Paris. He’s finished. The end of a dream …”

Never, never must he be allowed to come back. That must be the end of Napoleon. The wars he had created were over.

“Long live Peace,” was the universal cry. “Glory to the Victor. Blessings on the great Duke!”

This was a wonderful day for England.

The entire country was rejoicing. Celebration balls were given. There was one at Eversleigh to which the whole neighbourhood and friends from farther afield were invited.