Drop of the Dice

by Philippa Carr

  She opened her eyes and saw me.

  ‘Clarissa…’ she whispered.

  I leaned forward and kissed her. ‘You’re safe now, darling,’ I said. ‘In your own little bed.’

  ‘I was frightened,’ she said. ‘It cracked… and I was in. Ooh, it was cold.’

  ‘Tell me about it later, dear.’ I stroked her face. ‘There. You’re home now. You’re safe.’

  ‘Stay with me,’ she murmured.

  So I sat by her bed and she held my hand tightly.

  ‘She’ll be all right,’ said Nanny Curlew. ‘A chill, mayhap. But she’ll be all right.’

  I sat looking at that beautiful little face, so different now—pale and quiet, with the lashes looking darker than usual lying fan-shaped on her white skin—and I rejoiced that Lance had saved her and thanked God that there had not been a tragic ending to this day’s adventure.

  But before the day was out I realized I had been over-optimistic.

  Damaris was very ill.

  In the first place the exposure had affected her so much that it was clear within a day or so that she was about to miscarry and that her life was in danger. She had been an invalid when she was in her teens and had suffered from rheumatic fever which had left her unable to leave her couch. Then the miracle had happened. She had met Jeremy and made the almost superhuman effort to rescue me. This had done something to Damaris; and although she had never been strong she had been able to lead a normal life. Giving birth to Sabrina had been an ordeal for her; she had survived and wanted another child, but her health was not such as to allow her to expose herself with impunity to such an ordeal as that which she had undergone to save Sabrina.

  And now… this miscarriage. It was a time of great suspense while we waited to hear news of her. I felt the house closing in on me… triumphant, almost… the house of shadows, the house of menace, where evil was waiting to catch those who dared live in the place.

  Strange… for it had been my home once, and I had never noticed it then.

  Sabrina recovered rapidly. After the first day she was sitting up in bed eating heartily. Nanny Curlew had decreed that she should stay in bed, and after what had happened, which was the result of her disobedience, she was for once submissive.

  But the old Sabrina was ready to break out at any moment until Jeremy came to her. I was there, so I saw it happen; but it was only afterwards that I understood that something very significant was happening to Sabrina.

  Jeremy was fond of the child, but beyond anything in the world he loved Damaris. Damaris represented salvation to him. Having read their story, I now knew what she did for him. He had been morose and unhappy, resentful of life, shutting himself away, believing that nothing good could ever happen to him. Then she came along; a girl physically handicapped as he was, to show him that there was something worthwhile for him in life after all. He had been with her when she came to rescue me in Paris and I felt deeply about them because I had played a part in their story. He had seen Damaris’s courage during that adventure; he had realized her selflessness. She was his salvation; together they had built a new life.

  Jeremy was still something of a misanthrope. He would never throw off that morbid streak in his nature. He expected disaster rather than good fortune and luck to be bad rather than good. He was the absolute antithesis of Lance.

  He was now in a state of deep despair. It was not only that he was disappointed in the loss of the child, but his great anxiety was for Damaris. Her exposure on the ice would very likely bring back that affliction which had come to her in her youth. He was certain this would be so. Worse than that even—she was very ill, and, knowing Jeremy, I realized that in his mind he had already buried her and had drifted back into the lonely frustrated existence which had been his before Damaris came into his life.

  His face was pale and his dark eyes glowed. I had never seen him look as he did now. Sabrina sat up in bed staring at him.

  She had always been a little unsure of her father. Perhaps he was not quite so susceptible to her charm as most of us were; and she knew of course that a great deal of trouble had been caused by her naughtiness. She did not then know how much.

  He stood at the end of the bed, looking at her almost distastefully and as though he wanted to put as great a distance as possible between her and himself.

  Her lovely eyes were wide as she stared back at him and her lips were trembling. He said nothing for a moment and Sabrina, who could never bear silences, cried out: ‘Papa… I… I’m sorry…’

  ‘Sorry!’ he said, and he looked at her as though he hated her. ‘You are a wicked girl,’ he went on. ‘Do you know what you have done to your mother? She has lost the baby she wanted. And she is ill… very ill. You were told the pond was dangerous and that you were to keep away from it. You were forbidden to go on…’

  ‘I didn’t know…’ began Sabrina.

  ‘You knew you were doing wrong. You went out to skate when you were told not to and your mother risked her life saving yours. It may be that you have killed her

  I cried out involuntarily, ‘Oh no… no… please…’

  But he did not look at me. He turned and went out of the room.

  Sabrina was still staring before her. Then she turned to me and flung herself against me. Sobs shook her body; she cried and cried. I stroked her hair and tried to comfort her, but there was no comforting Sabrina. For the first time in her life she had come face to face with a situation from which her charm could not extricate her.

  It was a very sad household. Anxieties over Damaris grew. She had lost the child but that was not all. She was very ill indeed and it was not only Jeremy’s pessimism that pointed to the fact that she might not recover.

  Priscilla and Arabella came over to Enderby every day though there was nothing any of us could do. I was deeply concerned about Sabrina too, for she had changed drastically. She had lost her gaiety and had become silent, almost sullen. Nanny Curlew said, ‘She’s as naughty as ever, though in a different way. She’s more trouble than any child I ever had to handle. She teases dear little Jean-Louis. I think she’s jealous of him.’

  I sat with Damaris often for she seemed to derive comfort from my presence. ‘She cared so much for you,’ Priscilla told me. ‘You mean a great deal to her.’

  I took Sabrina with me one day. She did not want to go but I persuaded her.

  Damaris smiled at her daughter and held out her hand. Sabrina shrank from it but I whispered: ‘Go on, take it. Tell your mother how much you love her.’

  Sabrina took the hand and stared defiantly at her mother.

  ‘Bless you, my darling,’ said Damaris; and I saw Sabrina’s face soften. I think she was near to tears.

  She needs gentleness now, I thought, as never before. Jeremy had wounded her deeply. It was wrong of him. She was only a child. She had acted thoughtlessly, mischievously—but that was all. I could see that Sabrina needed the love Damaris could give her, but Damaris was ill and I felt I must make Sabrina my special care.

  It was time, of course, that we left Enderby. I knew that Lance had business on the country estate and could guess that he was longing to be in London. Aimée was restive too. Enderby was not a happy house to be in at this time.

  I talked about it with Lance. He admitted that he wanted to go back, but I said I should not be happy leaving Enderby while the fate of Damaris was still uncertain. I was worried about Sabrina. Being Lance, he understood immediately.

  ‘But we can’t all stay here,’ he said. ‘There are too many of us. Besides, I think we are a bit of a drain on the household.’

  I thought fleetingly that he would find it dull here. We had intended to stay only for the Christmas festivities. Here there was no gambling. It might be frowned on at Eversleigh. Lance must find the quiet life of the country without such flutters very dull.

  We arranged that Lance should go back to London and that Aimée with Jean-Louis and Nanny Goswell should accompany him leaving me to stay a while until we knew f
or certain that Damaris would recover.

  Jeanne shook her head over the decision. It was not good, she said, for husband and wife to live apart.

  ‘Live apart!’ I cried. ‘We are not living apart. It is only until my Aunt Damaris has recovered.’

  ‘Meanwhile he go off… with Madame Aimée? I do not like.’

  ‘Oh, Jeanne, don’t be so melodramatic.’

  ‘They gamble together. Such a beautiful man… and a woman like that.’ Jeanne narrowed her eyes. ‘She is…’

  ‘Yes, I know. She is French, and so are you, so you know. That’s it, is it not?’

  ‘You may not laugh always,’ said Jeanne ominously.

  SEEN THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

  DAMARIS DID RECOVER, BUT not completely so. She was very weak but we were all overjoyed when she showed signs of improvement.

  Jeremy was still cool with Sabrina and I knew that there was something smouldering in the child.

  I was able to talk with Damaris, which was a relief.

  ‘Poor Sabrina,’ I said, ‘she feels this deeply. I know you will understand how this has affected her. She knows it was her fault… all the trouble, your illness, the worry everyone has had. Dear Aunt Damaris, I know you will understand.’

  She did, of course, and she thanked me, with tears in her eyes, for what I had done for Sabrina. I said I had done nothing. She was the one who had done everything. Giving Sabrina life… and then saving it.

  ‘She is my baby, of course, as you were once, Clarissa.’

  ‘I know. But I am able to take care of myself now. Sabrina isn’t. You will know how to make her happy again.’

  I used to take Sabrina with me when I went to see her mother. At first she did not want to come and regarded Damaris with something like revulsion, which was due to the fact that she was responsible for her being in bed. But after a while Damaris’s gentle nature and her love prevailed. The barrier was broken. Sabrina would sit on the bed and I would tell stories and play games such as ‘I spy with my little eye’ which meant that the others had to guess the object I was looking at and the one who guessed took the turn of selecting the next; and very soon we had Sabrina rolling about the bed in fits of laughter. This mood did not always last, but it was good to see the old Sabrina coming out now and then; and I knew that Damaris understood perfectly.

  I then decided that I could leave and that I ought to go back to my home. I explained to Damaris, who understood at once and, I knew, made a great effort to appear better than she was.

  ‘You must not leave Lance any longer,’ she said. She turned and took my hand. ‘Oh, Clarissa, you have brought such happiness into my life… always.’

  ‘As you have done in mine,’ I answered. ‘I often wonder what would have happened to me if you had left me in France.’

  ‘Don’t think of that. Clarissa, I believe you understand Sabrina better than anyone. I think she loves you dearly.’

  ‘She is a delightful child… and very attractive.’

  ‘Yes, that is why I am afraid for her. Your mother was like that. She had that tremendous appeal. It turns up now and then in the family. I am not sure that it is an asset. Sometimes I think it is a liability. I worry about Sabrina, Clarissa.’

  ‘She will be able to take care of herself.’

  ‘She has been so strange lately…’

  ‘It is because she blames herself for what happened and Jeremy blames her too.’

  ‘I have spoken to Jeremy about her. He worries so much about me.’

  ‘Dear Aunt Damaris, you must get well. You are Jeremy’s life and Sabrina needs you. You are so much… wanted.’ She was emotional for a moment and then she said: ‘Clarissa, will you promise me something? You did once before, but I want to make sure.’

  ‘Of course I will. It’s Sabrina, isn’t it?’ She nodded. ‘Just suppose I didn’t get well.’

  ‘Please don’t think like that, even for a moment.’

  ‘I’m trying, Clarissa, but I want to be sure. Just suppose something should happen to me. Suppose I should die. Promise me you will look after Sabrina.’

  ‘Her place would be here. This is her home.’

  ‘Jeremy is a man who has suffered much. I cannot bear to think what he would do… if I were to die.’

  ‘I understand,’ I said.

  ‘Promise me then that you will look after Sabrina. She loves you dearly… in fact I think she loves you better than anyone else. Look after her… for me, Clarissa.’

  I took her hand and kissed it. I was afraid if I looked at her I should weep.

  ‘I promise,’ I said.

  A few days later, after listening to loud protests and reproaches from Sabrina, I left for London.

  Back in London, life slipped back into the old pattern. We entertained a good deal now. Lance was elated. He had had a run of luck at the tables and with the horses. He was a devoted husband and a passionate lover and made me feel in a hundred ways how delighted he was to have me back. I felt happy. Damaris was improving; she would comfort Sabrina and without me there the two of them would grow closer. And this was where I belonged—with my husband.

  Aimée was settling into the household as though it were indeed her home. I was glad, though I knew that Jeanne remained suspicious. Aimée told me about the hospitality she—with Lance—had received during my absence and that now and then she had acted as hostess for Lance. They had had a most exciting time.

  ‘Gambling?’ I asked.

  Lance burst out laughing.

  ‘Now, don’t scold, Clarissa,’ he said. ‘I had some very good nights. You didn’t do too badly, either, Aimée, did you?’

  They laughed together. A tinge of suspicion came into my mind then but I dismissed it. It would never have come to me but for Jeanne’s sly innuendoes.

  Jean-Louis was now running all over the nursery and desperately trying to talk. Nanny Goswell said he was a bright child; he was certainly a handsome one.

  ‘Little pickle,’ said Nanny Goswell fondly. ‘All he wants is for someone to show him he’s not the only pebble on the beach.’

  I sighed. No one could long more for children in the nursery than I.

  We spent the summer between the country and London, and a feature of our lives was, of course, the gambling sessions through which, Lance assured me, he was fast recouping his losses in the South Sea Company.

  I was not so sure of this, for I guessed I heard only of the winnings. The losses were probably just as great.

  I often felt during those days how happy I could have been but for Lance’s obsession with gambling. It was only when the fever was on him that he seemed unaware of me. It was like a demon that possessed him. He could never resist the desire. I had seen him wager on two raindrops falling down a window-pane… five… or even twenty pounds… all on the spur of the moment. I could not understand him. I should have thought the lesson of the South Sea fiasco would have changed him. It was not so.

  I was more than a little anxious about his financial position, for I fancied he was in debt. Once I found a demand from his tailor for a long overdue bill, and when I remonstrated with him he replied: ‘But, my darling, no man ever pays his tailor’s bills for at least five years.’

  ‘Then they should. What if the poor man needs the money?’

  ‘This man is far from poor. He serves the Court. He must be worth a fortune… in debts.’

  ‘That’s not much use if he is never paid.’

  ‘In time… in time…’

  ‘Well, if you have been winning, surely this must be the time.’

  ‘Logic, my dear. Absolute logic. Leave it to me.’

  Casual, charming, unruffled, gallant, and a hopeless gambler. He was a man who would smile in the face of ruin. I was so different. Perhaps he should never have chosen to marry me.

  As for Aimée, she was like he was. I saw the excitement beginning to grip her. She could scarcely wait to get to the tables. I wondered if Lance was still financing her efforts. I often saw Jeanne
watching her, shaking her head ominously.

  ‘Aimée has the luck of the angels,’ said Lance. ‘I’ve seen few to rival her.’

  So I presumed Aimée at least was doing well.

  Then I understood. It was quite by accident that I found out. After we had had a dinner party the guests settled down to the card tables and I invariably went to bed. Lance had tried, with no success, to persuade me to stay; but he had not been really pressing, and perhaps he thought one gambler in the family was enough.

  It was early autumn, I remember. We had had a successful dinner and conversation flowed freely. I had sat at one end of the table and Lance at the other; he was a graceful, witty host, but these people were all players, all eager to get to the business for which they had come, and that was to win money from each other. I knew most of them very well, for Lance often went to their houses to play and they came to us often. Sometimes I accompanied him, but I dreaded the evenings, which were usually spent in rather dreary conversation with those members of the party who, like myself, did not gamble, waiting for the play to end, which it generally did not until the early hours of the morning. I often made excuses not to attend. Lance was tolerant enough to understand, and sometimes aided me in avoiding them. All the same, nothing could prevent his going.

  Aimée was often invited. She was popular with this set. ‘A regular little sport,’ I had heard them say of her. ‘Not afraid to take a risk.’ No, I thought, of course she was not if Lance was supplying her with the means to do so and she only paid back when she won.

  But perhaps he no longer did this, since she was notoriously lucky. I did not care to ask either him or her.

  On this night she was wearing a charming gown which she had made herself. It had not cost a great deal. I had been with her when she had bought the material in Leadenhall Street. It was a light shade of red—at least the skirt was; the petticoat was cream-coloured and she herself had embroidered it in red silk the colour of her dress. It looked enchanting, flowing away from the tiny waist and cut down the front to show the embroidered petticoat.