I did not need Jeanne to point out to me that there was a certain camaraderie between Lance and Aimée. They both had that intense interest in gambling, and my aversion to it meant that I did not share in the most important factor in my husband’s life. Sometimes I wondered whether I should make an attempt to be interested in it. Then I realized how foolish that would be. I did not know the state of his affairs; he never discussed them with me and if I enquired, he courteously dodged the issue. But I could not believe that he had successfully avoided financial embarrassment, and even if he had, there must come a time when it caught up with him. I would be ready then to rescue him, but I did not intend to dissipate my fortune meanwhile.
I was, I found, thinking more and more frequently of Dickon and as the time passed I suppose I built up an idealized picture of him. I liked to contemplate what would have happened if he had not been caught and transported. Suppose we had married? I looked longingly into a life of blissful content.
But I had married Lance. I loved Lance, of course. He possessed great charm and outstanding good looks. He was the most considerate of persons. But I often felt that there was a shadowy element there. Did I really know Lance?
This was foolish dreaming. There was too much reality all around me for me to waste myself in insubstantial dreams, picturing what might have been.
My great-grandfather died peacefully in his bed that autumn and about two months later Arabella followed him. I went with Lance and Sabrina to the funeral.
‘There have been so many funerals in this family lately,’ said Priscilla sadly.
She was quiet and restrained, not easy to talk to. Leigh said he was making arrangements to take her away for a while. They would do a kind of Grand Tour of Europe which would help to put a bridge between the past and the present. When they returned they might live at Eversleigh Court as Arabella had suggested before she died; Enderby would be sold.
‘That will complete the change,’ said Leigh.
Sabrina and I went to see Smith in his cottage. He was managing very well, looking after himself, and Damon was there to keep him company.
‘Poor old fellow,’ said Smith. ‘He’s getting old, like I am.’
He had acquired another dog—little more than a puppy. ‘He’ll be a stand-by when poor old Damon’s gone,’ he went on. ‘Couldn’t bear to be without a dog.’
Sabrina enjoyed playing with the puppy. She seemed more like a child than she had for a long time.
‘You’re doing a fine job with the nipper,’ said Smith. ‘It wasn’t right of the master to treat her as he did. I told him so. He’d take it from me. But it made no difference. He was that wounded… like a dog maimed in a trap. He just had to shut himself in. Oh, I knew him well. But you’re the one to look after Miss Sabrina. You’ll do it. There’s good in her… if you can find it.’
I felt comforted, talking to that wise old man.
But during the months that followed I sometimes despaired of Sabrina. There were times when she seemed determined to make trouble. I think we were all patient with her. Nanny Curlew was used to her but Nanny Goswell was critical, comparing her with her ‘good little man’ who, young as he was, commented Nanny Goswell, had more respect for other people’s feelings than Madame Sabrina had. Nanny Curlew explained to her cousin that Sabrina had suffered through an unfortunate incident and that she must be given special care.
As for Aimée, she came to the nursery somewhat infrequently and seemed perfectly happy that her son should remain in Nanny Goswell’s care. She ignored Sabrina until the incident of the cards.
Sabrina had a scrapbook in which she delighted. I was pleased to see her so interested in something and she and I would discuss together where the pictures she collected should be stuck in. We would spend happy times matching one colour with another and fitting them in. She collected all the prints we could find, together with old songs and ballads and cuttings from the papers. Many happy hours were spent with the glue pot beside the open book; and sometimes I would say: ‘Let’s look at the scrapbook,’ and she always eagerly agreed.
We were having a dinner party, one of those which did not make me very happy, for there would be play, of course, and I knew that the stakes would be high. I sometimes wondered whether Lance would gamble with the house itself
On these occasions Lance was always a little abstracted. He was perfectly charming, but it was quite clear that his thoughts were not with me.
I said to him as we dressed: ‘I am a little worried about Aimée.’
Was it my fancy, or did he seem suddenly alert?
‘Whatever for?’ he asked quickly. ‘She seems happy enough.’
‘Does she gamble for high stakes?’
He laughed. ‘Oh, it’s gambling again, is it? Well, I’d say… moderate.’
‘Does she win?’
‘She’s naturally lucky. Some people are. But not always, of course.’
‘Did she pay you back what she borrowed from you… to start her off?’
‘Oh yes. She soon did that. I’d say that she had far more than usual luck. At one time she was very fortunate indeed.’
Yes, I thought, and had a quick vision of her slipping a card from her petticoat pocket to those she was holding.
He laughed. ‘She has some notion of making enough to set up a house for herself and Jean-Louis. I have told her her home is here as long as she wants, it. I could say no less for your half-sister.’
‘Thank you, Lance. You are very good to me… and Aimée.’
He came over and kissed me. I saw his reflection in the glass, elegant, graceful, like someone playing a part on a stage. He could be trusted always to do what was correct in the etiquette of good manners.
‘My dear, it is you who are good to me.’
‘I believe you would do a lot to make me happy, Lance.’
‘I’d be glad of the opportunity.’
‘Except one thing. You would never give up gambling for me.’
‘Leopards can’t change their spots, my darling, and gamblers can’t give up the game.’
‘I thought not,’ I said.
‘I know you have never liked it,’ he went on, ‘but I couldn’t give it up if I tried. It’s a spell that was laid on me at birth. When I was eight I would bet with stable boys on a couple of beetles trundling along the ground. It’s innate, it’s irredeemable. I’d do it for you if I could, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be myself.’
‘I understand, Lance.’
‘And you’ll forgive me for it?’ He took my chin in his hands and smiled at me.
‘If you’ll forgive me for being a bore and constantly nagging you about it.’
‘I know it is only your concern for my welfare and, bless you, my darling, I’m grateful for that.’
He looked so handsome and rueful that I felt ashamed of my vague dissatisfaction and my suspicions, my vague regrets for Dickon.
Dinner was lively as usual and immediately afterwards they went to the card room to play. I went in with them, as was my custom, in order to see them settled before I slipped away to bed. The cards were on the tables and the guests were seating themselves before them. I watched Aimée. I had never been able to see her at a card table without wondering. There was now an avid, excited look in her eyes which I had noticed so often in Lance’s.
There was a sudden cry of amazement. I swung round. Lance was holding a pack of cards in his hands and trying to separate them. Someone called out from one of the other tables: ‘They’re stuck together!’
There was consternation. The cards were kept in a drawer in this room. The whole household knew this.
Even as I stood there I understood.
‘What the devil…’ Lance was saying, as near anger as he could possibly show himself to be. ‘What mischief is this?’
‘Are they all the same?’ I asked.
‘It appears so.’
‘Yes, they are,’ said one of the guests.
‘These are the same,’ pointed out ano
ther.
Lance cried out to one of the servants in a voice I had never heard before: ‘Bring more cards.’
Fortunately there were plenty of cards in the house and these were immediately brought out and the game began.
As I came out of the room I saw a flash of white on the staircase. I went up to Sabrina’s room. She was lying on her bed with the bedclothes about her face. I went over to her and pulled them back. Her eyes were shut fast in pretended sleep.
‘It’s no use, Sabrina,’ I said, ‘I know you’re awake. I saw you on the stairs.’
She opened her eyes and looked at me. She was trying to suppress her laughter.
‘It wasn’t really very funny,’ I said.
‘It was,’ she retorted defiantly.
‘They were very angry.’
‘Was he?’
‘Very.’
She looked satisfied.
‘Sabrina… why?’
She was silent, smiling.
‘You mustn’t do things to hurt people,’ I said.
‘I didn’t. I did it because you don’t want them to play cards. They couldn’t if they were all stuck together. What’ll he do?’
‘He may speak to you.’
That made her laugh again. ‘I don’t care for him.’
‘You should.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re living in his house and he’s fond of you.’
‘He’s not fond of me. He’s not fond of anyone. He’s fond of cards.’
I sat by her bed thoughtfully. I wondered if I was ever going to change Sabrina. Suddenly she was out of bed and clambering on to my lap.
‘Clarissa. You’re not cross with me? Say you’re not. I did it for you. You don’t like those cards… so I did it for you.’
‘Oh, Sabrina, I wish you hadn’t.’
‘He’s angry,’ she said, her face against my hair. ‘Perhaps he’ll send me away. Come with me, Clarissa. Let’s go away. Far away. Let’s run away.’
‘Of course he won’t want you to go. He’ll forgive you.’
‘I don’t want him to.’
‘No, Sabrina, please…’
‘Tell me a story.’
I hesitated. Then I began a story which had a strong moral in it.
I sat with her until she slept. Then I crept away. It was late when Lance came up. I couldn’t tell from his expression whether it had been successful play, for although he might be elated by a big win, he was never depressed by losses.
Imperturbability when things were not good was for him the essence of good manners and that was a code he followed unswervingly.
He did not mention the incident of the cards, so I did. He burst out laughing.
‘I suppose it was that minx Sabrina up to her tricks,’ he said; and that was all.
I loved him dearly then. He was incapable of rancour, and the anger he had felt at the time of discovery had completely passed. He had dismissed the matter from his mind.
It was after she had had breakfast next morning that Sabrina came down for her riding lesson looking adorable in a brown riding habit and a cocked hat to match. She looked triumphant and aggressive and clearly expected to be punished for her behaviour of the previous night.
Lance was in the hall when she appeared. I saw her face change. She was a little apprehensive—I knew by her air of bravado.
Lance said: ‘Hello, Sabrina. Just off on your charger, eh?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she said quickly.
‘Don’t drive him too hard.’
That was all. She was bewildered. He had said nothing about the cards incident. I guessed he had forgotten it. Sabrina was too surprised to hide her disappointment. I thought then that the best way to treat her outbreaks was to make them seem trivial.
She was still thoughtful when she came back from her ride. I followed her up to the nursery. Aimée was there, paying a rare visit to Jean-Louis. Nanny Goswell was expounding on her little man’s virtues; Nanny Curlew was mending a dress which Sabrina had torn; and Jeanne was there putting away some newly laundered clothes.
Aimée looked distastefully at Sabrina and said: ‘Oh, there she is. I was talking of you. You’re a wicked girl. You ought to be whipped.’
Sabrina’s eyes sparkled. She hated Aimée and I think that after the quiet reception of her action by Lance she was ready to delight in conflict.
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said.
‘Wouldn’t I? I’d have you beaten till you cried for mercy. I’d send you to bed and make you stay there. You’re a bad, wicked girl trying to make trouble. Sticking the cards together like that. Why did you do that? To upset everyone? Everyone thought you were the naughtiest girl they had ever come across.’
I wanted to intervene, but I didn’t, for I felt Sabrina needed to know what effect her actions had on people.
‘I would have come straight up to you and given you what you deserve,’ went on Aimée. ‘You’re an ungrateful little beast. You have been given a home here…’
I did stop that. I didn’t want Sabrina developing new resentments. I said: ‘Sabrina is very sorry. She won’t do such a thing again.’
‘I might,’ said Sabrina, looking hard at Aimée.
I took off her cocked hat and ruffled her hair. ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘Get changed, dear. We should be at our lessons.’
I was teaching Sabrina myself at first. We had decided that she should have a governess later on.
Nanny Curlew had taken Sabrina’s arm and was drawing her through to the bedroom.
‘You’ll have trouble with that child, Clarissa,’ said Aimée to me.
‘I’ll manage,’ I replied.
‘She ought to be grateful. She’s been given a home.’
‘I don’t want her to think on those lines,’ I said quickly. ‘I want her to regard this as her rightful home… where she belongs.’
‘You spoil her. What she did last night was really venomous.’
‘It was done in the spirit of mischief.’
Nanny Goswell said: ‘Nanny Curlew has punished her. She is to have no strawberry preserve today.’
‘No strawberry preserve!’ muttered Aimée. ‘What a punishment. It’s encouraging her to do it all over again.’
I did not want to argue with Aimée so I went out. Jeanne came with me.
‘And who is she to talk about Sabrina being given a home, eh? Tell me that. What of Madame Aimée, eh? A nice figure she’d cut if this house wasn’t offering open welcome to her.’
I was silent and did not reprove her. She was only saying what I thought myself.
Later in the day I went walking in the woods with Sabrina. I was wondering how to explain to her that she would be far happier if she did not fight against people. I did not refer to the cards incident. I felt we had had enough of that, but I wanted to explain to her that she must try to help people rather than upset them.
She was so happy running about gathering bluebells. They were a lovely misty blue under the trees. Summer was on the way.
‘We’ll have picnics in the woods when the warm weather comes,’ I said. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sabrina?’
‘Yes, I would,’ she said.
Then we started playing a game naming the things we should put in a picnic hamper and then testing each other’s memories by remembering them in the right order. Sabrina loved such games and she put so much enthusiasm into them that she was invariably the winner. She was laughing as she corrected me for leaving out something and in that moment she was a normal, happy child.
We came to the dene hole. This was one of the artificially excavated prehistoric pits which are found in Kent and Essex. It must have been about three-quarters of a mile or so from the house. Sabrina had always been fascinated by it and I had made her swear not to go too near it. Remembering her exploit on the ice, she did promise and I did not think she would break her word to me. But her footsteps always seemed to lead her to it and she would stand a little way back, regardin
g it with awe.
‘Why did they make it?’ she asked.
‘We don’t know. It goes back too far in time. It might have been somewhere to hide from enemies. They were always fighting in those days. Or it may have been to store their food.’
‘But how did they get down there?’
‘They must have had some means.’
‘Like Jacob’s ladder.’
‘It may have been.’
‘How deep is it?’
‘Very deep, they say. I don’t think anyone has ever been down there.’
Then Sabrina did what she always did; she picked up a stone and threw it down the hole. She stood listening, entranced. The fact that there was no sound as it reached the bottom gave credence to the story that the pit was bottomless.
‘It goes right down and down to the centre of the earth,’ said Sabrina.
‘So be careful and promise me not to go too near.’
She nodded and skipped away.
The weeks passed peacefully and I believed that the incident of the cards had had a good effect on Sabrina. The only one who had been angry was Aimée and Sabrina did not care enough about her to want to upset her.
She spent a great deal of time with me and seemed to have lost some of her resentment towards Lance. I thought she was growing to like him. She thought Jean-Louis was a silly baby and Nanny Goswell sillier still to dote on him as she did. She was fond of Nanny Curlew, who was quite immune to her wiles, and Sabrina respected her for that.
That she was growing even closer to me there was no doubt. She learned her lessons with me and was bright and eager to learn. She did not want a governess and was anxious to show me that I could teach her far better than anyone else could. All she wanted was for me to be with her as much as possible; then she was happy.
There were only infrequent lapses now—little flashes of mischief such as shutting Jean-Louis in the pantry, whither she had lured him with promises of procuring some pigeon pie for him. When we were all frantically searching for him she revealed what she had done and we found Jean-Louis fast asleep on the floor, after having partaken too freely of pigeon pie.
‘He likes food so much,’ she said demurely, ‘that I thought it would be kind to shut him in with lots of it.’
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