“We all like to be admired.”
“She’s growing up fast.”
“Oh, she’s a child.”
“Some girls don’t remain children long. Your father has misgivings about Jonathan.”
“Because of that gambling incident.”
“That was the start. No … I suppose the farmer’s daughter was that. But he has got off to a bad start. Your father thinks a great deal about the estate nowadays … more than he used to.”
“David looks after it magnificently.”
“Yes … but David hasn’t a son. Now there is little Peterkin, bless him.”
“Dear Mother, is Father planning to teach him estate management in his cradle?”
“No. But it has made a lot of difference. He feels if Jonathan is unsatisfactory there is little Peterkin to follow.”
“I think Jonathan will be all right.”
“He is so like his father.”
“A very fascinating gentleman, by all accounts.”
“Supposed to be. David is the solid one … and that’s what your father wants.”
“I gather he himself was not unlike his son, Jonathan, and that must mean that his grandson Jonathan is a little like him too.”
“Your father is unique. He could live recklessly and at the same time get to the top of whatever he undertook. I do wish he and Jonathan got on better. However, what about this trip to London? It should be easier for you now that Clare is with you.”
I found it hard to hide my eagerness.
“I could go quite soon,” I said.
“I think your father wants to go. He wants Jonathan to meet someone up there. So we might all go again. Amaryllis wouldn’t want to. I wonder she doesn’t take a trip with Peter now and then. He is always up and down.”
“It’s all those business interests, but of course she hates to leave the children.”
So it was arranged.
When I told Clare I was planning to go, she said I need not worry about leaving Edward so soon after my last visit. She would see that everything went well. I said I was grateful to her and she replied that that was what she had come for—to give me a change now and then.
“A respite,” she said, and there was a little curl to her lips which I tried not to notice.
The outcome was that we set out once more for London—my mother, my father, Tamarisk and myself in the carriage and Jonathan following us on horseback.
When we arrived at the house in Albemarle Street I noticed the new maid at once. Servants were apt to come and go in London. The housekeeper engaged them. Young girls often married after a short stay in the house and disappeared. In the country, if they married, it was usually someone on the estate and often meant that they continued working for us.
Prue Parker was the sort of girl one noticed because she was pretty in a rather gentle way. She had a demure manner. The housekeeper said that she was exceedingly shy, but she thought in time she would “shape up.”
I noticed Jonathan give her a second glance. He was like that with all young women. Weighing up their accessibility I called it.
Jake visited us on the day of our arrival.
“So eager to see your daughter?” said my mother.
“And delighted to see you… all,” he added.
He dined with us. He said he had paid a quick visit to Cornwall since he had last seen us and would have to go back there soon, but he would be in London for some little while yet; and he hoped during that time to get to know his daughter better.
He took her out the next day. He invited me to accompany them but I declined, saying that I must shop with my mother. But the following day Jonathan took Tamarisk for a trip on the river and there was our opportunity.
Of course I should have resisted it. I meant to, but my resistance crumbled and there I was as I had been before in that House in Blore Street, quite abandoned to my love.
He said that our separation had been unbearable. He made all sorts of wild plans and I let myself imagine that there might be possibilities of their coming to pass.
But how could there be? I was married to Edward. There was no way out for me.
I wondered how long he would wait. He was a very impatient man. He chafed against frustration more than I did. At least I had my guilt to hold me back.
When I looked ahead I saw years of secret meetings like this, years of frustrated longing and even when those longings were satisfied they were accompanied by the heavy weight of guilt.
“How I wish we need never leave here,” he said. “If we could stay here for ever … just the two of us …”
I reminded him: “You are forgetting this visit was arranged so that you could see your daughter.”
“And Jonathan has obligingly taken her off our hands.”
A thought struck me then. Obligingly? Could it possibly be that Jonathan knew? Was he helping us to be together? That was just the sort of thing he would do. Jonathan, at least, would understand.
But the very thought of anyone’s sharing our secret alarmed me.
I was restless … even in moments of intense passion. Then I thought of Amaryllis so secure in her domestic happiness. Oh happy Amaryllis!
I said: “We can’t go on like this.”
But he just looked at me and smiled. He knew—as I knew—that we would whenever the opportunity offered itself. More than that, he being the man he was would make those opportunities.
As we came out of the house I saw a man standing on the street corner. He turned and started to walk away in the opposite direction. I fancied I had seen him in this street before. It could have been on my last visit to London. I did not give him a second thought then.
We walked slowly back to the house.
We had retired for the night. I was very tired and went to sleep almost immediately to be awakened suddenly by the sound of shouts and footsteps. I hurriedly put on dressing gown and slippers and went into the corridor. I could hear someone crying. It sounded like a woman’s voice; and the noise was coming from my parents’ room.
I ran to it and there I stopped short. My father was red faced and angry. Jonathan was there in a state of undress as though he had just got out of bed hurriedly; and with her bodice torn and a scratch on her neck was Prue the new parlourmaid. Great sobs shook her body and she was trying to cover her breast with her hands.
Jonathan was shouting: “It’s a pack of lies. I did not send for her. She came.”
“Oh sir… oh sir…” moaned Prue. “Nobody will believe me.
“Be silent,” cried my father. “Do you want to wake the house?”
“Oh sir … he sent for me … he did … on my honour he did … and when I come he just got hold of me … and tore my bodice. I was frightened.”
My father said: “All go to your rooms. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“You won’t believe me,” wailed Prue. “You’ll all say I’m a bad girl… I’m not. I’m a good girl. I never done nothing …”
“You won’t be condemned without reason,” said my father, glaring at Jonathan. “But this is not the time.”
My mother got out of bed and put on her dressing gown.
“Come with me, Prue,” she said. “You should go to bed. We’ll hear all about it in the morning.”
“The girl’s a brazen liar,” said Jonathan.
“Hold your tongue!” cried my father. “And get out. Lottie, can you do something about this girl?”
I went over to her. “Come on, Prue,” I said. “You can tell me all about it.”
She lifted her face to mine. “I never… I swear I never.”
“All right,” I said, “all right. Which is your room?”
“I share with Dot and Emily.”
“Well, first of all we’ll tidy you up a little.”
My mother looked relieved. “Will you see to it, Jessica?”
“Yes,” I said.
Jonathan caught my arm.
“I swear, Jessica, she came to me.”
“Look, Jonathan,” I said. “It’s late. We don’t want to wake all the servants. Go to your room. It can all be sorted out in the morning.”
“It was a trick.”
“All right. But go now.”
I could see my father was getting more and more angry and that his anger was directed at Jonathan, and I felt I must put an end to the scene as soon as possible.
I managed to get Jonathan and the girl outside. Then I saw Tamarisk.
“What’s happened?” she cried.
“Nothing,” I said. “Go back to bed.”
She looked at Jonathan. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded, smiling at her.
She ran to him and caught his arm. “You look funny.”
“Angry,” he said.
“Not with me?”
“Of course not.”
“With Jessica?”
He shook his head.
“Why is Prue’s blouse torn? Why is she crying?”
“Never mind now.”
She clung to his arm. “Are they trying to hurt you?”
“Yes, they are.”
“I won’t let them.”
“No, of course you won’t.”
“Jonathan,” I said. “Go to your room. You, too, Tamarisk. We’ll meet in the morning. Come along with me, Prue.”
I took her into my room and firmly shut the door.
I said: “We’ll wash your face and tidy you up a bit. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“It was my turn for late duty. I was just going to bed when the bell rang for Mr. Jonathan’s room.”
“Yes?”
“So I went up, Mrs. Barrington.”
“And what happened then?”
“He said. ‘Come in.’ He was in bed. He said, ‘Come over here, Prue.’ So I went to the bed. Then he got hold of me and pulled me down. I knew that I had to get away. I started screaming and fighting. He was very angry. But I got away and ran to Mr. and Mrs. Frenshaw’s room because I reckoned that was where I could be safe from him. They won’t believe me, Mrs. Barrington. They’ll believe him.”
“They’ll want to know the truth and that is what they’ll believe.”
“But I’m only the maid and he … and he … Oh, they won’t believe me. They’ll say I’m a bad girl… They’ll send me away and I won’t get a reference …”
“Now listen to me, Prue. In the morning there’ll be questions. If you answer up truthfully you will be believed.”
She shook her head. “They won’t…”
“Oh yes, they will. Now let us bathe your face.”
She stood still, her face full of misery. I bathed her eyes.
“There,” I said briskly. “That’s better. How badly torn your bodice is. Do you think you could slip into your room without the others noticing?”
She nodded.
“Well, do that. Go quietly. They’ll probably be asleep. And in the morning we’ll sort it all out.”
“It’s no good. What’s my voice against his … He’s one of the family …”
“That won’t make any difference with Mr. Frenshaw. He will find out the truth and see that justice is done.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barrington,” she said quietly.
I took her to the corridor and watched her go upstairs.
Oh, Jonathan, I thought, how foolish you are!
Next morning there was consternation in the house. Prue had left.
Dot came to tell me, her eyes wide with that excited horror which some people betray when they are the bearers of bad news.
“She’s gone, Mrs. Barrington. Clean gone. Took all her things, she has. We never heard nothing … me and Emily. Her bed wasn’t slept in. I reckon she crept out like … so’s we shouldn’t hear.”
Poor Prue, I thought. She couldn’t face the shame of it. She was so convinced that she would not be believed.
My father was furious when he heard. “I’ve just about had enough of that young man,” he said.
“You haven’t heard the whole story yet,” I reminded him. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”
“A pretty clear conclusion, I would say.”
“On the face of it.”
“You’re standing up for him. Can’t you see he has been caught redhanded this time?”
The scene between him and Jonathan was violent. I thought they might have come to blows. Then my mother went in to intervene.
When Jonathan came out he looked quite unlike himself.
He said to me: “I suppose you share the general view?”
“What’s that?”
“That I tried to rape the girl.”
“Did you?”
“I swear I didn’t.”
“What was she doing in your bedroom?”
“Ask her. She came in. I didn’t send for her.”
“She said you did.”
“Then she’s a liar.”
“Do you mean she just walked in?”
“That’s it. I was half asleep.”
“And … she offered herself?”
“I suppose it was like that. I didn’t have time to think. I was half asleep, I tell you. Jessica, like the rest you won’t believe me, but I’m innocent of this.”
“If you tell me so I’ll believe you, Jonathan.”
“Well, I am telling you.”
“What did she do it for?”
“Ask me something simple.”
“A victim to your fatal charm? She seemed a quiet girl. Shy, they said.”
“They are sometimes the worst… or the best… it depends which way you look at it.”
“Jonathan, this is terrible. You know what my father is like.”
“Not my most devoted admirer at the best of times.”
“The trouble is you are too like him.”
“You would think that would make for understanding. I am sure he was not exactly a paragon of virtue in his young days. What is so maddening, Jessica, is to be blamed for something you haven’t done when I suppose there are so many things for which one could be blamed.”
“This will pass.”
“The wretched girl has gone. I wanted to have it out with her face to face.”
“I wonder why she ran away.”
“Too shy to face the enquiry, they said. Guilty, that’s what.”
“I don’t think they’ll see it like that.”
“You can bet they won’t. I shall be branded yet again.”
“Never mind. It will blow over. These things often do.”
“If I don’t get sent packing in the meantime.”
“Oh no …”
“The old man is in a fury. Just another little nail in the coffin of the heir of Eversleigh. I seem to have some evil spirit dogging me. When you think of that letter some snake sent about my gambling spree … it makes me wonder. And now this.”
“That girl can’t have anything to do with your gambling. And I daresay there are little peccadilloes which don’t always come to light.”
I had managed to produce a smile.
Tamarisk came running up. She seized Jonathan’s arm.
“What are they going to do to you?” she asked.
“Hound me.”
“What’s that?”
“Lining up against me.”
“Who? Jessica?”
“No. Jessica is a pal, I believe.”
“I’m your pal.”
“I know that, Gypsy.”
“I’ll always be your friend and I’ll hate anyone who isn’t.”
“What could be fairer than that!”
“Is it that girl, Prue?”
“She’s gone away,” I said.
“Where to?”
“That is a mystery,” I told her. “Jonathan, go for a ride. There’s nothing like a gallop to take your mind off these things.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Tamarisk.
“All right,” replied Jonathan. “Come on.”
We left London. The af
fair of Jonathan and Prue had ruined the visit. My father was in a black mood and neither my mother nor I could charm him out of it.
Amaryllis rode over to Grasslands and Peter came with her. It was rarely that I saw them together and rarer still that he had time to pay visits.
Edward was with us in his chair.
James had, some time before, suggested that he occupy a bedroom on the ground floor, so that it would be easy for him to get into the garden if he wished to do so. This had proved to be an excellent idea and it gave Edward opportunities of getting about more easily.
We sat in the drawing room drinking tea.
It was a warm October day and the French windows were wide open. The smell of burning leaves floated in to us and every now and then I saw a man pass to and fro, a long fork in his hand, picking up leaves and conveying them to the bonfire.
This was Toby Mann—a newcomer to the gardening staff. Old Robert, whom the Barringtons had brought with them from Nottingham, had died and Toby had come along at the right moment and taken the job. I had heard he was a very good worker. He did a little boxing and was known as the Champion by the servants. I was thinking of Jake, as I often did, and wondering if he was thinking of me. Was he planning to go to Cornwall? How I wished I could go with him! Should I take Tamarisk for a visit? How could I? It was too far away. If Tamarisk went Leah would have to go with her. That thought filled me with misgivings. Leah had been very fond of Jake. I expected she still was. She was a very beautiful woman and would be single-minded in her devotion.
Amaryllis was talking animatedly about her children and I fancied Peter listened with a kind of indulgent impatience. Perhaps he had heard accounts of their extraordinary prowess before.
He said suddenly: “Poor Jonathan seems a little melancholy these days.”
“It was that affair in London,” said Amaryllis. “You were there, weren’t you, Jessica?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you think your father will send him back to Pettigrew Hall?” asked Peter.
“I don’t think so. It will blow over.”
“There is little sign of it at the moment,” said Amaryllis. “Oh, I do wish they did not have to have all these quarrels.”
“A little discord I suppose is inevitable in the best regulated families,” said Peter. “What was the girl like, Jessica? I don’t remember ever seeing her at the house.”
“You wouldn’t notice her,” said Amaryllis almost teasingly.
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