Drop of the Dice

by Philippa Carr

  ‘Lance… go on. Win, Lance,’ I whispered. The coach passengers were vociferous. They shouted and called, while the host stood by clasping and unclasping his hands.

  In a few tense moments it was over. Lance had won. He had pricked his opponent and blood was spurting on to the man’s elegant cuff. Lance gave a cry of triumph as he held up his sword and stood there for a second or so looking like a medieval knight who had fought the good fight and overcome evil.

  ‘Twenty pounds for me and hot dinners for the coach,’ he cried. ‘A most satisfactory encounter.’

  The three men were rueful but accepted their fate. The money changed hands and they went into the inn parlour while the stagecoach people trooped into the dining-room chattering about the adventures they met with travelling by coach.

  Lance laid his hand on my arm and said: ‘It is time we retired. We have to be up early in the morning.’

  He slipped his arm lightly through mine and we ascended the stairs. When we reached my room he said: ‘What do you think of our little fracas?’

  ‘I was proud of you,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, bless you for that.’

  ‘But I was sorry about the money. That spoilt it somehow.’

  ‘That made it worthwhile for me as well as for the coach passengers.’

  ‘It was a pity. Up to that time it seemed such a noble thing to defend the coach people. Then it seemed as though you had done it for a gamble.’

  ‘I never miss an opportunity to gamble.’

  ‘I know. But it would have been so much better without.’

  He took my chin in his hands and looked into my face. ‘The trouble with you, Clarissa, is that you always look for perfection,’ he said. ‘Don’t. You’re never going to find it, you know.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it doesn’t exist in this world.’

  I thought of Dickon then. Hadn’t that been perfection? Yes, until we had to part. Perhaps Lance was right. There was no perfection in life. One had to be prepared for that. Not look for it. Not hope for it. Just accept what there was to take.

  Lance smiled at me thoughtfully. Then he bent forward and kissed me lightly.

  ‘Sleep well, my dear,’ he said. ‘And rise early. We must be on our way at dawn.’

  THE VERDICT

  WE WERE RIDING OFF when the first streaks of light were in the sky. It was not really so early, for the days were short at this time of year. Lance said that at least we should be home in time for Christmas and he was sure my family would be pleased at that.

  We did not see any more of Timperly and his friends. Some of the coach people had been there though when we left for they had to leave very early.

  One of them said to me of Lance: ‘You have a very fine gentleman there.’

  I glowed with pride and agreed with her.

  Then we were off. Lance seemed to have forgotten the incident. Perhaps such were commonplace in the exciting life which he led. He sang as we went and again and again urged me to join in. I did and I could not help feeling my spirits rising. Such was the effect his company had on me.

  In due course we came to the Hoop and Grapes which was another inn where Lance knew we should be well looked after. I commented on the fact that he was knowledgeable on the subject of inns.

  ‘Seasoned traveller,’ he replied.

  We went in and had an excellent meal and once more became involved with the company, this time in a friendly fashion.

  Two men were travelling with their wives and it was obvious from everything about them that they were of the gentry. We chatted amicably with them and discovered that they were on their way to their home in London. They knew Lance by repute and were clearly pleased to be in his company.

  We had dined together and during the conversation it transpired that Lance and the gentlemen had several mutual acquaintances.

  ‘I remember old Cherrington,’ said one of them. ‘Lost twenty thousand one night at that place… what was it called… The Cocoanut Tree?’

  ‘Fortunes were won and lost there,’ said Lance, his eyes sparkling. ‘At one time it was the most frequented gambling den in London.’

  ‘I say,’ said one of the men, ‘what about a little flutter now?’

  ‘Nothing would suit me better,’ cried Lance.

  My heart sank. I had hoped that we might sit and talk, for I found great comfort in his company. But I could see the gambling fever was on him, and how excited he was at the prospect of indulging it.

  As soon as the meal was over they were impatient to begin. He turned to me and said that he thought I needed an early night as we must be off at the crack of dawn if we were to reach London the next day.

  I felt I was dismissed, and holding my head rather high to feign indifference, I said good night to the company and left them.

  Although I was thinking of Dickon and wondering what had become of him, I felt hurt that Lance should prefer the company of these strangers to mine. Why must he always seize every opportunity to risk his money? Moreover, he had left me alone. He had explained to our fellow travellers that I was the niece of General Eversleigh and that he had been commissioned to take me to London—which, he hastened to add, was one of the most pleasurable duties which had ever been assigned to him.

  I was unmoved by such blandishments and angry that he should have dismissed me so cursorily, merely so that he could enjoy a gambling game with his new-found friends.

  I undressed and went to bed, but could not sleep. I kept going over the days I had spent with Dickon, remembering everything he had said and the wonder of discovering the love between us. I likened it to the rising of the sun: first a few streaks of light in the sky and then the sudden emergence and the bursting forth in glory to touch all life with some mystical magic.

  The more angry I grew with Lance the more poetic I became about my relationship with Dickon; but I was surprised that even in the midst of my anxieties I should still feel such deep resentment towards Lance.

  ‘He is an inveterate gambler,’ I told myself, it is a great flaw in his character. Oh, he was noble enough when he stood up for the coach people, but I think he did it because it was a gamble to him.’

  The night was passing and I had not heard him come upstairs. I went to my door and looked out. All was quiet. I tiptoed along the corridor to his room and opened the door very cautiously. He had not come up, for the room was empty and his bed undisturbed. So he was still down there, gambling with those people. My watch told me it was two o’clock. I returned to my bed and lay there wondering how much he was losing… or winning.

  It was past three o’clock when I heard him come upstairs—quietly tiptoeing. I leaped out of bed and, opening my door, confronted him.

  ‘Clarissa!’ he cried.

  ‘Do you realize what time it is?’

  He laughed. ‘Past three?’

  ‘All this time you have been down there… gambling.’

  He came towards me. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘How could I? I was worried.’

  ‘About me?’

  ‘I was thinking of Dickon.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Well, it was foolish of you. You should have been fast asleep. Do you realize that in a few hours we have to be on our way?’

  ‘Did you realize that?’

  ‘I can do with very little sleep.’

  ‘Did you… win?’

  He looked at me ruefully and shook his head. ‘It was good play, though.’

  ‘So you lost!’

  ‘The hazard of the game, you know.’

  ‘How… how much?’

  ‘Not a great deal.’

  ‘How much?’ I repeated.

  He laughed. ‘You look so severe. Well, fifty pounds.’

  ‘Fifty pounds!’

  ‘It was a long session.’

  ‘I think it is foolish. Good night.’

  ‘Clarissa.’ He took a step towards me and laid his hands on my shoulders. ‘Thanks for your concern,’ he said
. Then he drew me towards him and kissed me.

  I drew back in some confusion.

  ‘Good night,’ he said quietly. ‘Go to sleep now. Remember we leave early.’

  Then he went to his room and I went back to mine. He had disturbed me. He had really startled me when he kissed me. I had been very much aware of my scanty apparel, and perhaps my feelings were somehow involved with what I felt for Dickon.

  I told myself I was annoyed with Lance and that it was not very gallant of him to have sent me off to bed as though I were a child.

  I sank back into my bed. I was cold and still found it hard to sleep, but finally I did so and almost immediately, it seemed, I was awakened by a knocking on my door informing me that it was time to get up.

  We left early as planned. Lance seemed none the worse for what must have been a very short night for him. He was as merry as ever and prepared to entertain me with stories of his adventures as we rode along.

  I could not stop myself referring to the previous night and again expressing my disapproval of his losing so much money.

  ‘You won twenty the night before,’ I pointed out, ‘and then lost it… and more besides.’

  ‘That’s how it is with the gambler,’ he said. ‘He is spurred on by his winnings only to lose much more with them.’

  ‘Then surely it is a foolish habit.’

  ‘Indeed you are right. But as you go through life you will discover that so many things which are foolish are also irresistible. That’s the tragedy of it.’

  ‘I should have thought a little strength of mind…’

  ‘You are absolutely right… only it is not a little that is needed in this case, but a great deal.’

  ‘I was so pleased that you won twenty and in such a noble way.’

  ‘It is no use brooding on these matters, dear Clarissa. That which was won at the Plump Partridge has now found its way into another’s pocket, and the coach people have long forgotten their good dinner.’

  ‘I think they will remember you for a long time. They will talk of it to their children in the years to come.’

  ‘It will be like a candle in a dark world. Candles gutter, Clarissa, and soon go out. What a dismal conversation! Soon we shall be in London. There we shall spend one night at my residence and the next day set out for Enderby. Your adventure is nearly over. Thank you for letting me share in it.’

  ‘It is I who should be thanking you.’

  ‘It has been a wonderful journey. A duel of sorts in the Plump Partridge, losing fifty pounds last night, a lecture on the evil of my ways—and best of all, my dear sweet Clarissa, your company.’

  I was mollified. He had great charm of manner and perhaps I liked him better because of his obvious imperfections.

  So we rode on and I was moved when I saw the great stone walls of the mighty Tower of London, and the river running like a ribbon between the fields and houses. It was growing dusky as we came through the city to Albemarle Street where Lance had his London residence. As soon as we arrived there was a bustle of excitement. There seemed to be innumerable servants. He explained that a room was to be prepared for the niece of General Eversleigh whom he was taking next day to her family in the country. In the meantime our main desire was for food and we were very tired after having ridden so far.

  It was a beautiful house—by no means old. It had been designed, I learned later, by Christopher Wren soon after the Great Fire of London when the famous architect was rebuilding so much of the town. It was not large, by Eversleigh standards, but it had an elegance which bigger houses lacked. The panelling was beautiful, the curved staircase of exquisite design and everything as I would have expected, knowing Lance, was far from flamboyant but at the same time impressed even those like myself that it was in the best possible taste.

  The household was impeccably run. That was obvious by the speed with which our rooms were made ready and the meal served.

  We sat in a room with windows which reached almost from floor to ceiling that they might let in the maximum of light. There was a silver candelabrum on the table and in the mellow lighting I found the surroundings extremely gracious.

  ‘I think your house is beautiful,’ I told Lance.

  ‘Thank you, Clarissa. I am rather fond of it myself. I spend a great deal of time here… rather than in the country. I am, as you may have observed, what is generally known as “a man about town”.’

  ‘Well, naturally,’ I replied. ‘The gaming houses are here.’

  ‘Oh, you can manage very well in the country. There are all sorts of ways of losing your money there, I assure you.’

  ‘And saving it would not provide the same excitement, I suppose.’

  ‘How could it?’

  ‘It would to me,’ I said. ‘I should enjoy watching it accumulate.’

  ‘Dear saintly Clarissa! A lesson to us all… and in particular to foolish gamblers. Try some of this soup. It is my cook’s very special pride. I believe there is always a cauldron of it bubbling in the kitchen.’

  ‘You are very well cared for here.’

  ‘I see to it. It is one of the passions of my life to be well cared for… second to gambling, of course.’

  ‘I am learning a great deal about you.’

  ‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous. I am learning a little about you, too.’

  ‘I often think it is a mistake to know too much about people.’

  ‘That could be a very profound statement,’ he said.

  So we bantered.

  I spent the night in a delightful room. There was a fire in the grate and no sooner had I sunk into my feather bed than I was sound asleep.

  I was awakened by a serving girl who brought me hot water. It was still dark but she told me that Sir Lance had said we were to be ready to leave as soon as it was light.

  Oddly enough I felt a certain regret that the adventure was nearly over. I was still dazed by all that had happened. I was just beginning to realize how much I had enjoyed my days with Lance.

  We left the comfort of the house in Albemarle Street and took the road to the south-east. There were two stops on the road and the last was at the historic town of Canterbury. We were then a day’s ride from Eversleigh.

  In all the places we passed through, if we stopped and engaged in conversation with anyone the talk always turned to the attempted rising of the Chevalier de St George—or the Pretender, as he was more frequently called.

  There was fear of war in the air and I was uneasy, thinking that if it really came Dickon would be on one side, my family on the other.

  Lance was a little subdued, I thought, as we rode out of Canterbury.

  I asked if he was thinking of the martyr who had been slain in the Cathedral. Was it the fate of St Thomas which occupied his mind and made him melancholy?

  ‘No,’ he cried. ‘I must confess I had hardly given him a thought. Surely you know there could be only one cause for my melancholy. It is because soon I must part from you.’

  I was so happy to hear him say that that I laughed with pleasure; then I remembered Dickon and was ashamed that I could do so.

  ‘You have a habit of saying what people want to hear,’ I said.

  ‘Not a bad habit, you will agree.’

  ‘If you mean it…’

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘is an added bonus. I assure you I mean what I say when I tell you I have rarely enjoyed anything more than our little jaunt together. Thank you, dearest Clarissa, for giving me such a happy time.’

  ‘Nonsense. You know it is I who should be thanking you,’ I replied. ‘I am afraid I have been a melancholy companion.’

  ‘Indeed you have not. In spite of all that happened you have made me feel you have enjoyed our journey.’

  ‘I have been as happy as it was possible for me to be considering all that has happened and how worried I am.’

  We rode on in silence. I think we were both a little moved.

  That day we reached Enderby. Damaris rushed out in amazement when she realized
who it was. She hugged me tightly and then I was seized by Jeremy.

  ‘Oh, Clarissa… we’ve been so worried… so anxious… with all this going on.’

  Damon jumped round and I was glad he took an immediate fancy to Lance.

  I must see Sabrina, who had grown since I left; messages were sent over to the Court and to the Dower House. They would all be coming over to Enderby. This was a great occasion.

  Lance stayed the night and received the thanks of every member of the family for bringing me home safely. They listened spellbound to my story which I told them in detail for I saw no reason to withhold anything except of course my love for Dickon and his for me.

  ‘Thank God for this Dickon,’ said Damaris. ‘Oh, my darling, you were in great danger.’

  ‘Damned Jacobites,’ growled Great-Grandfather Carleton. ‘I’d string up the lot of them. As for that Pretender… hanging’s too good for him.’

  So I was back in the bosom of my family and it seemed strange to be sleeping in my own bed again.

  Christmas came. Damaris kept telling me how delighted she was that I was home in time for the celebrations. Besides, this was no time to be travelling about the country. There could be civil war, and what a disaster that would be, and all because some people wanted to put this Pretender on the throne.

  She was sure the loyal army with men like Uncle Carl commanding it would soon put a stop to all that nonsense—but there might be trouble first.

  Jeanne was delighted that I was safely back. She wept and crooned over me.

  ‘Oh, Mademoiselle Clarissa, you are the one things happen to,’ she cried. ‘It is the way with some. There you are snatched from England… brought to France, living in a grand house and then in a cellar. Rescued from that… you see how it goes. Oh, how ’appy I am that you are with us again! “Christmas,” I said, “What is Christmas without the little Clarissa?” I have la petite Sabrina… yes. I have the little one. But for you there is something special… Do you know…’ She touched her heart. ‘Something in here…’

  ‘Jeanne,’ I said solemnly, ‘I shall always love you.’

  Then we wept together.

  I could not join wholeheartedly in the festivities. All the time I was wondering where Dickon was and whether I should hear from him. We did hear scraps of news about the Pretender. He had left Bar-le-Duc, where he had been living—for he was no longer welcome at the French Court—and, disguising himself as a servant, had travelled to St Malo where he had tried to take ship to Scotland. This he failed to do, so he made his way to Dunkirk. It was at that time the middle of December but, accompanied by a few attendants he managed to find a ship to take him to Scotland and landed at Peterhead three days before Christmas.