“Yes,” she said smiling at him.
“Where would all this be … without you, Jessie?”
She nodded.
“So here is the doctor with his sleeping potion. Take it, Jessie, and rest. You’ll feel better in the morning. You’ll know how to cope with all this.”
She was silent. It seemed that Dickon had chosen the right words to comfort her.
She gulped down the liquid. She didn’t want me to leave her until she was asleep.
She had been very shaken and I realized that she was afraid to be alone in case the apparition returned.
Jessie quickly recovered from her fright and was her old self in a day or so. I was now wanting to go home. I found the house oppressive, and my visits to Uncle Carl seemed to me unnecessary. I made no progress with him and I could not believe my presence was very important to him.
I missed Lottie and Jean-Louis and was longing for the peace and normality of Clavering.
I had passed Enderby once or twice hoping for a glimpse of the Forsters, but I assumed they were still away and felt I could not call. Dr. Forster would, I supposed, not come there since his brother and sister-in-law were away; yet I continued to walk that way, drawn by memories.
Once I walked past Grasslands and saw Dickon’s horse tethered there. I hoped he was not going to cause any trouble to that very nice Andrew Mather. I should have liked to visit him again, but that of course would entail meeting Evalina and I had no great desire for that.
Often I would find Dickon’s eyes on me—maliciously, I thought. It occurred to me that he was involved in some plan and that it concerned me. If I caught his eyes he would smile at me in a rather amused, mischievous way but sometimes I thought I caught a glimpse of something there which was by no means lighthearted and gave me a twinge of alarm.
I had never liked him; I had never trusted him; and I knew he was quite unscrupulous.
I wondered what he was planning; what he talked of with Evalina. I was sure they discussed me together.
I thought of speaking to Dr. Cabel and telling him that I was thinking of returning home. Why not? I had been to Rosen, Stead and Rosen; they seemed perfectly satisfied with the state of affairs. There was the matter of the valuable statue. Could it be that Jessie was taking goods from the house as a sort of bulwark against the time when she would have to leave? I thought that was a possibility. But of course it was true that Uncle Carl had been very generous to her. The first time I had seen her she had been wearing quite a large amount of jewelry—presumably gifts from him, as she had worn them in his presence.
Perhaps, I thought, we should make an inventory of what was in the house. I might have asked Rosen that. But that would be tantamount to accusing Jessie. She might be affronted and leave; and if my uncle really was aware of what was going on that could upset him very much.
I must think clearly. But I was determined to make up my mind to go soon.
My steps had again led me to Enderby. I was still hoping that one of the Forsters would appear. The house looked silent. I turned away to the haunted patch. It looked quite normal in the light of day. I wondered someone didn’t mend the palings or have them taken away.
Absentmindedly I stepped over and walked on the grass. My mind went back to that evening at dusk when I stood on this spot and suddenly Gerard had arisen from the ground, as it were … as though he had stepped out of … a grave.
I shook myself. I had given up that nonsense of pretending that he was some long-dead gallant and that I had assumed a personality not my own. No … I had been revealed to myself. I had loved Gerard. Everything that had happened had been my desire. He had shown me my real self.
I could hear his voice saying: “I was looking for my fob. …”
And then suddenly I saw the glitter as the sunlight caught something lying there.
I immediately thought: It’s Gerard’s fob. And I ran forward.
But it was not a fob. What I was looking at was a crucifix which had been stuck into the earth.
I knelt down and touched it. It was firmly entrenched and it looked as though it had been put there not so very long ago because the grass had not grown round it.
How strange. I wondered who had put it there.
I stood there puzzled. Had it been there when Gerard and I had met here? It could hardly have been. Of course the grass could have hidden it. But there was very little grass growing just at that spot.
It was almost as though it marked a grave.
I stood up. I was beginning to feel very uneasy, and I had a great desire to get away. I felt I was walking rather blindly into something of which I was beginning to get a glimmer of understanding. I had a great desire to get away from this place.
I walked across the stretch of grass and stepped over the palings. I listened. I fancied that I heard a movement somewhere. It was just that uncanny feeling that I was being watched.
I started to run. It was not very far to Eversleigh, about fifteen minutes walk perhaps, but I always took the shortcut through the wood. It was scarcely a wood. Just a little stretch where the trees grew close together.
I made for it and as I entered wondered if I should have gone round by the road. It was foolish. The sight of that crucifix had unnerved me. I knew there was some meaning behind it.
Suddenly the realization came to me. I had been observed. I was now being followed. For what reason? I felt the goose-pimples rising on my skin. This was real fear. I heard a footstep behind me and started to run.
I was thankful that the trees were thinning and I would soon be in the open. I ran as fast as I could and when I had put some distance between myself and the last of the trees, I turned.
A man was emerging from the wood. This was my pursuer. Dickon!
He sauntered up to me.
“Hello, Zipporah,” he said.
I said breathlessly: “You’ve just come through the wood.”
He nodded, smiling at me, and I fancied there was an odd flicker in his eyes.
“Did you see anyone in there?”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise.
I stammered: “I wondered. … People don’t often use that stretch of wood.”
“There might have been someone,” he said. “Are you going back to the house?”
I said I was.
“I’ll walk with you.” He fell in by my side. I was very much aware of him and I was still trembling a little from my scare. I refrained from mentioning my feelings to him. I thought: He was my pursuer. Why was he frightening me? Was it just his mischief?
Then I noticed there was something different about the swing of his coat. Dickon was fast becoming a man of fashion and perhaps this was why I noticed that his coat bulged a little. He was carrying something in an inner pocket.
A sudden gust of wind made his coat swing open, and because I was really wondering what he carried I happened to glance down at that moment.
It was a pistol.
I was really shaken. What was he doing with a pistol? And why did he not call to me in the wood? He must have been aware that I was running away. Yet he had emerged casually sauntering as though there was nothing unusual about chasing people in woods. I had noticed lately a change in him. There was a hard glitter in his eyes which might have indicated a certain pleasure, as though he were engaged in some activity which intrigued him. I had put this down to his renewed acquaintance with Evalina and perhaps involvements with some of the Eversleigh serving girls who might seem more attractive than those at Clavering. They would be different and I imagined Dickon would like variety in his seductions.
But I was unsure of him now. Amorous encounters were second nature to him. I had a fancy that he was involved in something other than those.
Why should he be carrying a pistol? To shoot … what? Rabbits? Birds? For what purpose except the lust to kill? He had no need of food. That was plentifully supplied by Jessie, and he was a man whose sports would be conducted indoors rather than out.
Whe
re did he get the pistol? There was a gun room at Eversleigh, of course.
So disturbed was I that I went to find it. I was not quite sure where it was. Nobody had pointed it out to me but I had some idea.
I found it. It was a small room but there were guns of all sorts there. It was impossible for me to see if any were missing. But of course it was from this room that he would have taken the pistol. Or he might have brought it with him in case he needed it on the journey.
Perhaps then there was nothing unusual about his having a pistol in his possession. Perhaps I was trying to make something out of nothing. Quite clearly I was getting a little overwrought and should go back to Clavering.
When I was in my room there was a knock on the door and when I called “Come in” Jessie entered.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Mistress Ransome,” she said, “but I have a message for you from Amos Carew. He says he’d be obliged if you would call on him tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be at the house between three and four and if that’s not convenient to you would you please name another time.”
“I can certainly see him tomorrow,” I said.
“That’s settled then,” she smiled.
I said: “I hope you’re feeling better now, and have got over that little scare.”
“I don’t know what got into me. It must have been a trick of the light … and that kitchen girl having said she saw something put it into my head. Well, I’m downright ashamed. I am that. It’s not like me, I can tell you.”
“We’re all surprised in ourselves sometimes,” I said.
She nodded. “I’ll get a message over to Amos,” she told me.
That night I was disturbed again. There was someone in the house who made nocturnal visits. I was wakened again and saw that it was two o’clock—the same time as before.
First the awareness that someone was below and then the creak of a door and the sound of stealthy footsteps.
It was either Dickon or Amos, I told myself. Their amorous adventures were really no concern of mine. I turned over and went to sleep.
The following afternoon I walked to Amos Carew’s house. It was the first time I had called there but I knew exactly where it was as Jethro had pointed it out to me very shortly after I had arrived on my first visit.
It was a pleasant house with a lawn in front and a porch in which pots of flowers were growing.
Before I had time to knock Amos Carew opened the door.
He took me into a sitting room which was comfortably furnished, though not large, and bade me be seated.
He said: “It was good of you to come, Mistress Ransome.”
“Not at all. I have been wondering what it is you want to see me about.”
He looked at me in rather an embarrassed fashion and said: “It’s not easy to explain.”
“I am sure that you will, though,” I said.
“It’s …er … things at the Court.”
“Oh yes?”
“They can’t go on the way they are. I mean his lordship is growing weaker … in spite of what the doctor says.”
“He seems to me to be in a very weak condition.”
“Well, what bothers me … is what is to happen if he was to go. I’m sorry to seem … hard like … but I was thinking of my position here. It bothers me a bit. A man has to think of his future.”
“I understand that.”
“Well, when his lordship goes this passes to you.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“Oh, his lordship has explained it to Jessie. There was not much he kept from her … when he was well enough, that was. … I daresay she wonders too. It could be hard on her … and on me.”
“I understand. But I really think it is a matter which will have to be decided later. You see, it may be that my uncle has changed his mind. I don’t think we can make arrangements about something which has not come to pass.”
“Jessie says that he has left it all to you, and she would know. It was just that I had it in mind that if I could put a word in for myself to you
“If it happens as you say I am sure my husband and I would not want to turn good people away. I can’t make promises about something which is not mine. One never knows what will happen.”
He nodded gravely.
“I want to show you how well I keep the place … inside and out. I’ve done wonders with my bit of garden at the back. I even supply vegetables to the Court. … I was hoping you’d take a look at it.”
“I am absolutely sure that everything is in perfect order.”
“But you will look at it, won’t you?”
I said I would.
“Then I’ll show you the garden.”
We went through a passage to the garden and he led me out toward some fruit trees. I was struck by the quietness of all about me.
I said: “You appear to be very isolated here in spite of the fact that you are not far from the Court.”
He didn’t answer. There was a strange look in his eyes. The thought suddenly struck me that he had brought me here for a purpose other than to speak of his future, and an unaccountable cold fear took possession of me. This was the man who was Jessie’s lover, who had calculatedly brought her here to become Uncle Carl’s mistress, to fleece him of what she could. They must have planned it together. They were unscrupulous people. I had a great desire to say a hasty good-bye to him and go back to the Court as fast as I could and when I was there pack my bags and go home to Jean-Louis, to Lottie, to my mother and Sabrina.
He said: “Come and look at the trees. I’m going to get some good fruit there this year.”
His voice sounded different … strained in some way.
I hesitated. Something told me to get away.
And then suddenly I heard a noise. Someone was knocking on the door. Then I heard a familiar voice. Dickon’s! And he was coming towards us.
“I did knock. But the door was open. Oh … hello, Zipporah. Amos, I came over to talk to you.”
“I’m busy,” said Amos.
“Oh, all right. I’ll wait. Looking at the garden, are you? He’s very proud of his garden, Zipporah.”
I noticed the bulge in his coat. So he was still carrying the pistol.
“I wanted to ask Amos a few questions about the tenants,” he said.
“Then I will leave you two to talk,” I answered.
Dickon almost leered at me. “I’m not driving you away, I hope.”
“No, no,” I assured him. “I was on the point of leaving.”
Amos looked resigned and I wasn’t sure whether he was angry or relieved. I could imagine that Dickon might be becoming a nuisance to him.
As I walked back to the Court I thought how often Dickon seemed to be where I was. I could almost believe he was following me. However, on this occasion I had been quite pleased to see him. I was really quite alarmed in that garden alone with Amos Carew. There seemed to be no logical reason why I should have been. I think the fact was that the situation here was beginning to upset me more than I had believed possible.
I really wanted to get away. … back to normality. There was nothing else I could do here.
When I came into the hall Jessie was there. She started when she saw me and turned a shade paler.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yes. … Did you see Amos?”
“Yes, I saw him.”
“And … was everything all right?”
I raised my eyebrows. It was not the first time I had resented her interrogations and felt an irresistible urge to remind her of her position.
“We had our talk,” I said and walked past her.
I could feel her staring after me.
I went to my room thinking about Amos Carew. It was natural that he should be worried about his position, for it was quite clear that Uncle Carl could not live much longer in the state he was in. I think I had allowed myself to grow too fanciful. I was as bad as Jessie with her ghost.
I had one or two sewin
g jobs to do. I could have given them to one of the maids but preferred to do them myself. There was a tear in my skirt where I had caught it on a bramble—not much but it should be done at once—and a button was half off my dressing gown and the stitches in a petticoat had come undone. I would do them this afternoon. I had no sewing material and I knew that the maids went to Jessie’s room to get them.
I knocked at the door. There was no answer so I went in. My eyes went at once to the blank space on the wall. That was where the crucifix had hung. It was no longer there. Of course it wasn’t. It was in the haunted patch and Jessie was the one who had put it there.
I forgot all about the sewing materials and went back to my room.
What did this mean? I asked myself. Why should she have taken the crucifix from her wall to put in the wasteland?
It meant that there was a grave there in the wasteland. Whose? Wild thoughts chased each other through my brain. A possibility had occurred to me.
I had to find the answer.
One thing was becoming certain: I was in the midst of intrigue and what was shown to me was not the true state of affairs.
I wished there was someone whose help I could ask. I wished the Forsters were there, or that calm practical-looking doctor. Could I go to him? No! The people to whom I should go were Rosen, Stead and Rosen. Mr. Rosen already knew of the rather unconventional ménage at Eversleigh Court.
What could I say? The housekeeper has put her crucifix in the wasteland … ?
I would have to have more tangible evidence than that.
I must think about this clearly, reason it out. I must know the best thing to do. I went over everything that had happened. The strangeness of the atmosphere in this house. But I had felt that on my very first visit.
It would soon be suppertime and I must face them all; after that there would be my visit to the sick room. I must be watchful. I must not be so easily gullible. I must realize that I was here with scheming, unscrupulous people. And what part was Dickon playing in all this? He was devious and I was an enemy. I really must discover all I could and then go to Mr. Rosen.
I suppose I had been right about the crucifix. That might be some sort of clue. We would go the wasteland and we would dig up and discover why Jessie behaved as though a grave was there.
Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England 09] Page 25