“No,” I answered, “nor shall I.”
He ran out saying he was going to the stable to look for Vesta.
Sabrina said: “Of course boys do get up to these pranks.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “They do. But when they are caught good boys do not stand aside and let someone else take the blame, particularly someone who is not in a position to defend himself.”
They were shocked into silence. They could not bear criticism of their beloved child.
Then I said quite suddenly so that I surprised myself:
“I’ve decided to go to Eversleigh as we arranged.”
They were startled. “Jean-Louis …” began my mother.
“Cannot go, of course. He is well looked after here. I shall wait a week or so, of course, and when I consider I can leave him I shall go as arranged. I am sure Lord Eversleigh would be very upset if I didn’t go and I shall only be away for a short while.”
It was as though my other self was preparing to take possession.
There was a great deal of opposition to my proposal to go to Eversleigh without Jean-Louis. My mother said she would not have a moment’s peace until she had heard that I had arrived safely, and after that there would be the journey home again to be undertaken. Sabrina added her voice to my mother’s. There had rarely been so much highway robbery as there was at this time, she informed me, and those dreadful villains stopped at nothing.
Dickon added: “They shoot you dead, you know, if you won’t hand over your money.”
I felt he would be quite amused if such a mishap overtook me, for our relationship had not improved since the discovery of the cause of the fire in Farmer Hassock’s barn.
Jean-Louis’s reaction was as I expected it to be. One of resignation and determination that my desire to go should not be thwarted. He was hobbling round the house and was able to go round the estate in a kind of go-cart, which was a great relief to him for the frustration of being cut off from his work would have been hard to bear.
“You see,” I explained, to him, “I have a feeling that I must go. That second letter from the old man… there was something about it. Sabrina said it was like a cry for help. That’s rather fanciful, I suppose, but on the other hand, there did seem to be something in it… in a strange sort of way.”
“What worries me most is the journey,” said Jean-Louis. “If I could feel that you would be safe …”
“Oh, Jean-Louis,” I cried, “people are making journeys every day. We don’t hear of the thousands who arrive safely. There is always such a lot of talk when there is a mishap.”
“Some parts of the road are very dangerous… notorious haunts of highwaymen.”
“We shall avoid those and I shall have protection.”
“Your mother is very much against it.”
“I know. She was in an accident when she was a child and has never forgotten it. I’ll be all right, Jean-Louis.”
He looked at me earnestly. “You very much want to go, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I have a strong feeling that I should.”
“I understand.” He did understand. He was a quiet and thoughtful man and often understood my thoughts before I had expressed them. I believe now that he was thinking that life was beginning to pall; that I was looking for excitement. He did not want me to grow vaguely dissatisfied, which perhaps I was doing without realizing it. However, being Jean-Louis he was constructive rather than destructive; instead of deciding that the journey was impossibly dangerous, he set about planning how to make it as safe as possible.
“I think you should have six grooms,” he said. “They can return as soon as you are safely delivered; and then come back for you when you return. Those and one more for the saddle horse and you will be a considerable party.”
I kissed him. I felt brimming over with love.
“Well?” he said.
“I think I have the best husband in the world,” I told him.
It was typical of him that he should hide his apprehension from me; he seemed to grow quite excited about the preparations as I discussed with him what I should take and the route we should travel.
It was on a lovely morning when we set out—a typical June day with the sun newly risen to give us a pleasant early morning warmth and the promise of a fine day. We made good progress and the feeling of expectation was growing. Every thing seemed to be more vivid than usual. Butterflies the purest white against the purple buddleia, the hum of the bees at work on vivid blue borage and clover, moon daisies in the fields with the buttercups and cowslips and the glimpse of the scarlet pimpernel on the edges of the cornfields—these miracles of nature, which I had taken for granted all my life, seemed especially wonderful.
We should have two stops on our journey and the arrangements at the inn had been most carefully made so, as expected, there was no difficulty about accommodation when we made our first stop in good time.
I did not sleep very well. I was too excited, and the next day, as soon as the first streaks of dawn were in the sky, I was getting ready to pursue our journey.
The morning passed swiftly and equally without untoward incident and then we were soon on the last lap of our journey.
We planned to reach Eversleigh by about four o’clock in the afternoon, but unfortunately, when we stopped at an inn for refreshment just before midday, we discovered one of the grooms’ horses had cast a shoe. This would delay us a little, and we wondered whether we should leave the groom to wait for his horse and go on without him or all remain until his horse was fit for the road.
I was uncertain, but my mother had made me promise that I would not ride without all the grooms in attendance, and after some deliberation I decided that we should wait for the horse to be shod and then all go together, which should not delay us very long.
It did, however, take longer than I had at first thought it would, for the blacksmith was not in his forge; he had had an urgent call to go over to a nearby mansion where the squire had some commission for him. We were assured that he would return within a very short time. The short time grew into a long time, and I began to wonder whether it would have been wiser to go on without the groom. After all, we should only be one man short.
It was then four o’clock and we had planned to leave just after midday, and as I was deciding that we should go on, for we had no reservation at an inn for the night and did not know where we should find one, the blacksmith returned.
He would get the work done right away, he said, and the horse would be fit for the road before we could say “God bless the king.”
It wasn’t quite as speedy as that but eventually we were on the road. Thus it was that by the time we reached Eversleigh Court it was growing dark.
Jessie
LONG AGO I HAD been to Eversleigh Court and vaguely remembered it. I must have spent many Christmases there when I was a child because it had always been the center of the family. When the old people died and my mother went to live permanently in the country after the death of my father, we had not visited the old house. General Eversleigh, who had been fond of my mother, and who had in fact introduced my father into the family in the first place, had taken over the management of the estate for a while, but that other Carl—Lord Eversleigh’s son—was the real heir to the estate as well as to the title, and when the general had died Carl Lord Eversleigh must have felt in duty bound to come back—I was not sure from where—and settle at Eversleigh.
My excitement was intense. I had during the journey been trying to look back and remember what I had heard about the family who had inhabited the great house during its heyday. I recalled there was a lot of talk about Enderby, that house of gloom which was wrapped in a kind of supernatural mystery. I had decided I would take a look at it at the first opportunity, but in the meantime here was Eversleigh Court.
A high wall loomed up in front of us. The gates were open; I thought this must be to welcome us. We rode through. It was too dark to see the house clearly, but memor
ies of long ago came flooding back and the vague feeling of familiarity was comforting.
There was no sound from the house. Then I caught sight of flickering light in one of the upper windows. There was a dark shadow there. Someone must have been standing there holding a candle and looking out—perhaps awaiting our arrival.
I was rather surprised that the great door remained closed, as we must have been expected, and the sound of the horses must have been heard on the gravel of the drive.
We waited a few moments for the grooms to come and take the horses, but no one came and the house remained in darkness,
I said: “As we’re so late they must have thought we wouldn’t arrive tonight. Ring the bell. That will let them know we’re here.”
One of the grooms dismounted and did as I bid. I remembered the bell from long ago. It had always fascinated me and I used to enjoy pulling the rope and listening to the clamor it made throughout the house.
I sat on my horse, looking at the door, waiting for the moment when it would be flung open and someone would appear to welcome us.
There was silence when the bell ceased to clang. I began to feel a little uneasy. This was not the welcome I had expected from Lord Eversleigh’s letters.
At last the door opened. A young woman stood there. I could not see her very clearly but she struck me immediately as being something of a slattern.
“What you be wanting?” she demanded.
I said: “I am Mistress Zipporah Ransome. Lord Eversleigh is expecting me.”
The woman looked amazed. I thought she was half-witted. I tried to peer behind her but the hall was not lighted and there was only the dim glow from the one candle which she had set down when she unbolted the door.
One of my grooms held my horse while I dismounted and approached the door.
“Lord Eversleigh is expecting me,” I said. “Take me to him. Who is in charge of the household?”
“That would be Mistress Jessie,” she said.
“Then will you please call Mistress Jessie? In the meantime I will come in. Where are the stables? My grooms are tired and hungry. Is there someone who can help with the horses?”
“There’s Jethro. I’ll get Mistress Jessie.”
“Please do so… quickly,” I answered, “because we have had a long journey.”
She was about to shut the door but I held it open and, as she scuttled away, stepped into the hall.
She had left her candle on the long oak table and it threw a rather eerie light about the place.
It occurred to me that there was something very strange going on here. I kept thinking of what Sabrina had said: “Calling for help!” It did not seem so very incongruous now.
I was startled by what appeared to be an apparition, for at the head of the stairs a figure had appeared. It was a woman, and in her hand was a candelabrum which she held high, striking a pose like a figure in some stage drama. In the flickering candlelight she looked amazingly handsome. She was tall, plump, but shapely and about her neck glittered what could be diamonds. They also glistened at her wrists and on her fingers—so many of them that I could see them even as she stood there in only the light from the candles.
She moved down the staircase in a stately fashion.
She wore a wig of luxuriant curls, very fair—golden, in fact—with one curl hanging over her left shoulder. Her hooped skirt stood out round her like a bell and it was of plum-colored velvet, cut away in the front to show the very ornate petticoat of bluish mauve with white flowers embroidered on it. She was clearly a very grand lady and I could not imagine what her position in the house could be. As she came nearer I saw that the dazzling complexion had been applied rather too heavily to be natural and she wore a small black patch just beneath her large, rather protruding, blue eyes and another one beside her heavily rouged mouth.
I said: “I am Zipporah Ransome. Lord Eversleigh was eager that I should come to see him. He knew I was to arrive today. We are a little late, I know. One of the horses had to be shod.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed; she looked puzzled and I went on hastily: “Surely I am expected.”
“I knew nothing of this,” said the woman. Her accent was overgenteel and but for her clothes I would have thought she must be a housekeeper.
“I don’t think I’ve heard who you are,” I said. “Could you… ?”
“I am Mistress Stirling. They call me Mistress Jessie. I have been looking after Lord Eversleigh for the past two years.”
“Looking after him… ?”
She smiled almost deprecatingly. “You might call me a sort of housekeeper.”
“Oh, I see. And did he not tell you that he had invited me to come?”
“I never knew it.” Her voice had lost a little of its assumed refinement. She was clearly annoyed at the omission and perhaps a little suspicious too.
“Well,” I said, “this must be rather awkward. Perhaps I could see him.”
She was thinking quickly. “You say you are Mistress Ransome?”
“Yes, I gather I am his nearest of kin… or at least my mother is. Lord Eversleigh is the son of my great-great-grandmother. I think that’s right. It goes back rather a long way.”
“And you say he wrote to you?”
“Yes… several letters. He asked me to come and see him. He was so insistent. So I promised and I was expected today. Could you take me to him?”
She said: “I’ve settled him down for the night. He is a very old man, you know.”
“Yes, I do know that. But as he is expecting me he will be wondering why I am not here.”
She shook her head. “You must be prepared. He has probably forgotten he invited you, as he told me nothing of it. He is not always very clear in his head, do you understand me?”
“Well, I did know that he was very old. Oh dear… perhaps I should not have come.”
She laid her hand on my arm, familiarly, almost as a friend might do—certainly not as a housekeeper would; but it was beginning to dawn on me that she was implying she was no ordinary housekeeper.
“Now don’t say that,” she said almost archly. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll get a bed aired for you and I daresay you would like something to eat.”
“Yes,” I said. “I would indeed. And so would the grooms. There are six of them, no, seven including one with the saddlebags.”
“My word. Quite a retinue, eh?”
She had relaxed. She gave the impression of one who has come face to face with a difficult situation and has decided how to deal with it.
“Well, I’ll give orders, eh?… and we’ll get you settled and in the morning you can see his lordship.”
“But shouldn’t he be told that I have arrived?”
“I reckon he’s sleeping like a baby now. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go and see… I’ll peep in, shall I?… and if he’s awake I’ll tell him. If he’s sleeping, you wouldn’t want me to wake him, I’m sure. He takes a bit of time to get off sometimes.”
Her manner had completely changed; shocked surprise had been replaced by a familiar air which was almost patronizing. She was behaving as though she were mistress of the house but at the same time as no well-bred mistress would dream of behaving. I was aware of a slight sound, and turning sharply, thought I saw something move at the top of the staircase. It was not easy to see, for the candles gave only the dimmest of lights. We were being watched. I wondered by whom. Since I had stepped into this house I was prepared for anything.
“Now first of all it’s food, eh,” said the woman. “They’ll be clearing away in the kitchens. You should have been here when supper was served. We could have treated you proud then. Well, they’ll find something and I’ll have them get a room ready for you. Now you come in here and give me just a minute or two and I’ll have you and them grooms of yours all fed and bedded down in next to no time. How’s that?”
I said: “Thank you. I’ll go out and tell the grooms to go to the stables, shall I?”
“No, you’d better
stay here. I’ll see to it.” She started to shout: “Jenny! Moll! Where are you? Come here at once, you lazy young sluts.”
She smiled at me. “I have to keep my eyes on ’em,” she explained. “There’d be nothing done if I don’t. Place would be going to rack and ruin like it was when I come here.”
She was speaking easily, naturally, now, in the manner, I expected, to which she was accustomed.
Two girls came running in.
“Now, you two,” she said, “… I want a room got ready for this lady here. She’s come visiting his lordship… who didn’t see fit to tell us… doubtless he forgot it, poor old pet. Now, Moll, out to the stables.… Call Jethro… tell him to take in the horses and arrange for the men to be given somewhere to sleep and a bite to eat. We can sort all this out in the morning. Now, Mistress… what did you say your name was?”
“Mistress Ransome,” I said.
“Now, Mistress Ransome, if you’ll step into this winter parlor I’ll have something sent in for you to eat while they get your room ready. Dear, dear, what a to-do, and all he had to do was tell me.”
I was taken into a room which I remembered we used for meals when there were a few of us. Yes, they had called it the winter parlor.
I sat down uneasily. It was all so different from what I had expected.
Of course, I told myself, it would all have been so different if that horse had not cast a shoe and we had arrived at a reasonable time. Then Lord Eversleigh would not have gone to bed. He would have given me the welcome I was expecting. After all, it had been his idea that I should come. Delays on the road were frequent—any little mishap could mean delay. I guessed he had thought we would arrive tomorrow. It was odd, though, that, he had had no preparations made for our stay.
I sat down and one of the maids came in to light the candelabrum.
I said to her: “Have you been here long?”
“About two years, my lady.”
“The same as Mistress… Stirling.”
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