Zipporah's Daughter (Knave of Hearts) (37 page)

‘I understand,’ I said.

‘There was a time when I thought she would do David some harm. And she made too much of Jonathan. It was almost as though she was trying to set the boys against each other … and certainly against their father. If only … ’

She was looking at me appealingly.

‘Lottie,’ she went on, ‘if you came back to us, it would be like a fresh start for us all. It was what we wanted, your grandmother and I. It was only your mother who was against it. You were blaming Dickon, weren’t you? Griselda had told you something. But you don’t believe her now, do you?’

I said: ‘I see clearly what happened through Isabel’s diary.’

‘You know that there was nothing callous about Dickon’s behaviour to her. He was always kind to her. It wasn’t his fault that he was not in love with her.’

‘I know.’

She bent over and kissed me.

‘I am glad you understand now,’ she said.

I did. I saw clearly that in this respect I had wronged Dickon.

They were winning me over.

A few days later Dickon was called to London.

‘I shall be away for a week at most,’ he said.

I asked Sabrina what sort of business he had in London.

She was vague. ‘Oh, he inherited a lot of property through Isabel.’

‘I knew she was very rich and that was the reason for the marriage.’

She looked at me sharply. ‘Isabel’s father was very eager for the marriage. So was Isabel herself. There was a very big settlement and when her father died a great deal came to Isabel.’

‘And now to Dickon,’ I said. ‘Is it something to do with banking?’

‘Something like that,’ said Sabrina. ‘He goes often. Not so much of late because you are here, I expect. But he travels a good deal normally. He was very concerned in all that about the American War.’

‘Yes, I gathered that. He came to France because the French were helping the Colonists.’

‘He came to France to see you,’ said Sabrina fondly.

It was only two days after Dickon had left when the messenger came bringing a letter from Lisette, and I knew that something was wrong before I opened it.

‘You should leave at once,’ she had written. ‘Your father is very ill indeed. He was calling for you when he was delirious. He has said that we are not to send for you but we thought you would want to know. I think, if you want to see him before he dies, you should return at once.’

Sabrina had seen the messenger arrive and came down to see what it was all about.

‘It’s my father,’ I said. ‘He is dangerously ill.’

‘Oh, my dear Lottie!’

‘I must go to him at once,’ I said.

‘Yes … yes, of course. Dickon will be back soon. Wait and hear what he has to say.’

‘I must leave at once,’ I said firmly.

The messenger was standing by. Sabrina pointed out that he looked exhausted and called one of the servants to take him to the kitchens and give him food. He would want to rest too.

When they had gone she turned to me.

‘I don’t think Dickon would want you to go back. He has talked to me about the state of France and was so glad that you had left at last.’

‘This has nothing to do with Dickon,’ I said. ‘I am going and I shall leave tomorrow.’

‘Lottie, you can’t!’

‘I can and I must. Oh Sabrina, I am sorry but you must understand. This is my father. He needs me. I should never have left him.’

‘You said that he wanted you to come, didn’t you?’

‘He did because … ’

‘I dare say he thought you were safer here. He would know … as Dickon did.’

I wanted to stop her talking about Dickon. I was going and that was it. I could not possibly stay here while I knew my father was ill …dying, perhaps, and calling for me.

‘I am going to get ready immediately,’ I said.

She caught my arm. ‘Wait, Lottie. Don’t be so hasty. Suppose I sent someone to London to tell Dickon.’

‘It would take too long and this has nothing to do with Dickon.’

‘He will be upset if you go.’

‘Then he must be upset because I am going.’

‘The children … ’ she said.

I hesitated. Then I made up my mind. ‘They can stay here if you will allow it. They can come home later. I will go alone and as quickly as I can.’

‘My dear Lottie, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. Dickon … ’

‘I will go and see the messenger. He can have a good night’s rest and I will go back with him. He will start first thing in the morning.’

‘If only Dickon were here!’

‘Nothing would stop me, Sabrina. The children will be happy here. They must stay?’

‘Of course. Of course.’

‘Perhaps Dickon and you, too, will come back with them and stay for a while at the château.’

She looked at me fearfully. ‘If you are intent on going you must take two grooms with you. There are certain things you will want to take for a journey … and it will be safer. You must do that. I insist.’

‘Thank you, Sabrina,’ I said, and I went to the kitchens to find the messenger.

I
HALF HOPED THAT
Dickon would come back that night. I knew he would attempt to persuade me not to leave but when he saw that I was adamant, it might well be that he would come with me.

I longed for him to do that. I was terrified of what I would find when I returned to France and kept reproaching myself for leaving my father even though it was he himself who had insisted that I should do so.

Eversleigh was not far from Dover and the journey was quickly accomplished. The crossing was smooth, for the weather was good. It was when we reached the other side of the Channel that everything seemed different.

The July sun beat down on us; there seemed to be a stillness in the air, a breathlessness as though the country was waiting for some tremendous event. It was something in the atmosphere of the towns through which we passed. Sometimes we saw little knots of people standing together in the streets. They watched us furtively as we rode through; they seemed to be whispering together. Some of the towns were deserted and I imagined that people were peeping at us through their windows.

‘Everything seems to have changed in an odd sort of way,’ I said to one of the grooms.

He said that he noticed nothing.

We came to the town of Evreux and I remembered how, when I had first come to France with my father, we had stayed there. It seemed very different now. There was that same air of brooding menace which I had noticed in the towns and villages through which we had passed.

I was very relieved when the château came into sight. I spurred up my horse and rode into the courtyard. One of the grooms took the horse and I hurried into the castle. Lisette, who must have been watching from one of the windows came running into the hall.

‘Lisette!’ I cried.

‘So you have come, Lottie.’

‘I want to see my father at once.’

She looked at me and shook her head.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked quickly.

‘He was buried nearly a week ago. He died the day after I sent the message to you.’

‘Dead! My father! It is not possible.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He was very ill. The doctors had told him.’

‘When?’ I cried. ‘When did the doctors tell him?’

‘Weeks ago. Before you went away.’

‘Then why … ?’

‘He must have wanted you to go.’

I sat down at the big oak table and stared at the long narrow windows without seeing them. I understood now. He had known how ill he had been and he had sent me to England because of that. He had never had any intention of coming with me, but he had said he would just to make me plan to leave and then when we were on the point of departure he had said he could not accompany us.

‘I should never have gone,’ I said.

Lisette lifted her shoulders and leaned against the table looking at me. If I had not been so stricken I might have noticed the change in her attitude. But I was too shocked, too immersed in my grief.

I went to his bedroom. She followed me there. The curtains were drawn back showing the empty bed. I knelt beside it and buried my face in my hands.

Lisette was still there. ‘It’s no use,’ she said. ‘He has gone.’

I went through his rooms. Empty. Then I went to the chapel and the mausoleum beyond. There was his tomb.

‘Gerard, Comte d’Aubigné’ and the date 1727 to 1789.

‘It was so quick,’ I murmured and I saw that Lisette was behind me.

‘You have been away a long time,’ she reminded me.

‘I should have been told.’

‘He wouldn’t have it. It was only when he was unable to give orders to prevent anyone’s sending for you that I acted as I thought was right.’

I went to my room. She was still with me. Then I saw that she was different and had been since my arrival. Everything had changed. I could not understand Lisette. She was not unhappy. There was something secretive in her manner. I did not know how to describe it. It was as though she was amused in some mysterious way.

I am imagining this, I told myself. I am suffering from acute shock.

‘Lisette,’ I said, ‘I want to be alone for a while.’

She hesitated and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse to leave me.

Then she turned and was gone.

I lay in bed, unable to sleep. The night was hot … stifling. I was thinking of my father as I had never ceased to think of him since I had heard that he was ill and needing me.

Oh, why had I gone! Why hadn’t I guessed? He had seemed to grow older suddenly. I had thought that was due to the fact that he had lost my mother. Indeed, I had felt he never really wanted to go on living after he had lost her. And all the time he had known how ill he was and he had wanted me to go to England … to marry Dickon. He had been worried about what was happening in this country and had wanted me to find a secure haven outside it.

I thought of how happy I had been at Eversleigh—the rides, the walks, the verbal tussles with Dickon … how I had enjoyed them all. And all the time he was here … dying alone.

The door of my room opened suddenly and I started up in bed to see Lisette gliding into the room. There was an air of suppressed excitement about her.

‘I didn’t hear you knock,’ I said.

‘I didn’t,’ she answered. ‘It has happened. At last it is here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have just had the news. Did you hear the noise in the courtyard?’

‘No. Who … ’

‘News,’ she said. ‘News from Paris. The mobs are roaming the streets and the shopkeepers are barricading their shops.’

‘More riots!’ I cried.

Her eyes were shining. ‘Great men are speaking in the Palais Royal gardens. Desmoulins. Danton. Men like that.’

‘Who are these men?’ I asked.

She did not answer and went on: ‘They are wearing the colours of the Duc d’Orléans … red, white and blue … the tricolor. And listen, Lottie, this is the most important of all. The people have taken the Bastille. They have killed the governor, de Launay and have marched into the prison with his head on a pike. They have freed the prisoners … ’

‘Oh, Lisette. What does it mean? This rioting …’

Again that secret smile. ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘it means the revolution has begun.’

It seemed a long time before the morning came. I sat at the window waiting …waiting for what I did not know. The countryside looked the same as ever—quiet and peaceful. At daybreak the household was astir. I could hear the servants excitedly talking. They shouted and laughed and I knew that they were discussing what had happened in Paris.

All through the day we waited for news. People were different. They seemed to watch me furtively and they seemed vaguely amused and secretive.

I saw nothing amusing in fearful riots when people went mad with fury and others lost their lives. Dickon had said it would come. Could it be that it already had?

An uneasy day was followed by an uneasy night. I felt lonely without the children but what a relief it was that they were not here!

Something was about to break. I wondered what I should do. Should I go back to England? There was nothing to keep me here now that my father was dead.

The rioting will die down, I told myself. The military will suppress it. But the Bastille … to storm a prison! That was a very big riot indeed … very different from the looting of shops which had been going on in the little towns all over the country on and off over the last few years.

I was trying to behave as normal, but there was nothing normal about the château. How could there be when my father was no longer there?

When I arose next morning I rang as usual for hot water. I waited … and waited. No one came. I rang again and still I waited.

I put on a robe and went down to the kitchens. They were deserted.

‘Where is everyone?’ I called.

It was Tante Berthe who finally came to me. She said: ‘Most of the servants have gone and those who haven’t are getting ready to leave.’

‘Leaving! Why? Where have they gone?’

She lifted her shoulders. ‘They are saying they will never wait on anyone again. Others think they might be blamed for serving the aristocrats and get what is being planned for them.’

‘What is going on?’

‘I wish I knew, Madame. It’s confusion … everywhere. There are rumours going round that they will march on all the châteaux and kill everyone in them.’

‘It’s nonsense.’

‘You know what servants are … without education … ready to believe any tale.’

‘You will not go will you, Tante Berthe?’

‘This has been my home for years. Monsieur le Comte was very good to me and mine. He would not have expected me to run away. I’ll stay and face whatever it is.’

‘Where is Lisette?’

Again that shrug of the shoulders.

‘I have scarcely seen her since the day I arrived.’

‘She knows what she is doing, I’ll swear. What did you come down for?’

‘Hot water,’ I said.

‘I’ll get it for you.’

‘Who is left in the château?’ I asked.

‘There’s the two in the turret.’

‘Jeanne is still here then?’

‘You don’t think she would ever leave Mademoiselle Sophie?’

‘No, I did not think that she would. Jeanne is loyal and Sophie is the most important thing in her life. Who else … ?’