Zipporah's Daughter

by Philippa Carr

  I just looked at him in amazement.

  He said: ‘You have answered. I can see the joy in your face. That is good. I am going to tell the children at once. There is no reason why we should delay.’

  Charlot was wildly excited about the proposed visit to England. So was Claudine. Louis-Charles was so disconsolate that I said we must take him with us, and Lisette agreed that he might go. I was happy listening to them, making plans, talking of England which they had never seen, counting the days.

  My father talked to them of what he knew of Eversleigh. Claudine would sit at his feet on a footstool, her arms clasped about her knees as she dreamily stared into space. Charlot plied him with questions; and Louis-Charles listened in the respectful silence he always showed in the presence of the Comte.

  It was four days before we were due to leave when my father asked me to walk with him down to the moat. He took my arm and said slowly: ‘Lottie, I cannot make this journey.’

  I stopped and stared at him in horror.

  ‘I have been letting myself pretend I would, shutting my eyes to truth. See how breathless I am climbing this slope? I am not young any more. And if I were ill on the journey … or in England … ’

  ‘I should be there to take care of you.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, Lottie. I know. I have a pain here … round my heart. It is because of this that I want to see you settled.’

  I was silent for a moment. Then I said: ‘Have you seen the doctors?’

  He nodded. ‘I am no longer young, they tell me. I must accept my fate.’

  ‘I think a messenger should go to Eversleigh at once. They will be making preparations for us. And I will tell the children now that we are not going.’

  ‘No! I said I could not go. You and the children must.’

  ‘Without you?’

  He nodded. ‘That is what I have decided … ’

  ‘And leave you here … sick!’

  ‘Listen to me, Lottie. I am not sick. I am merely old and unable to make a long and exhausting journey. That is not being sick. I don’t need nursing. If you stay here, there is nothing you can do. You cannot disappoint the children. You will go with them. That is my wish. And I shall stay here. I am well looked after. I have good servants. And you will come back to us in due course.’

  I said: ‘This is a blow.’

  He stared at the water of the moat and I wondered whether he had ever intended to come.

  I couldn’t help being caught up in the young people’s excitement. We set out on horseback, considering the carriage too cumbersome and slow. Claudine rode between the two boys; she was growing very pretty and had a look of my mother. I think that was one of the reasons why she was the Comte’s favourite. She was sturdy, strong-willed and a little resentful of the protective air both boys showed towards her and the fact that they were inclined to treat her as a little girl. Charlot was handsome, dark-eyed, dark-haired with a quick alert look; Louis-Charles might have been his brother; they were close friends and got on very well, apart from the occasional disagreement which would end in fisticuffs as they were both hot-tempered.

  We stayed a night at an inn which delighted them all, the two boys sharing a room and Claudine coming in with me. She was awake at dawn, eager to get on with the journey and making me rise with her.

  She said: ‘There is only one thing missing to make this perfect. That is Grand’père.’

  ‘Pray don’t call him a thing,’ I said. ‘He would not appreciate that.’

  We both laughed, but sadly because he was not with us.

  The sea crossing provided a further delight to them and when we landed on English soil they could talk of nothing but Eversleigh. Dickon was at Dover to escort us to the house and there was wild excitement when Claudine flung herself at him and hugged him while the boys stood by grinning. Over Claudine’s head Dickon smiled at me, his eyes warm, but I did detect a hint of triumph in them and I thought: Even now he is thinking of winning.

  But a visit did not mean that I had made up my mind. Perhaps I had been foolish to come. I had a fear that I was going to be swept off my feet, unable to make clear decisions, and I knew I must be wary of Dickon. He had the effect on me of potent wine.

  Such memories came back. It was long since I had seen Eversleigh, but it always gave me a feeling of home. I did not know why that should be so since most of my life in England had been spent at Clavering. But this was the home of my ancestors. It seemed to wrap itself around me; it seemed to say: You have come home. Stay home. Home is the place for you.

  Sabrina was waiting with a very warm welcome. She was as excited as the young people.

  ‘What a lovely house!’ cried Chariot.

  ‘It is not a castle,’ added Louis-Charles a trifle disparagingly.

  ‘Houses are really what you should live in,’ put in Claudine. ‘Castles are for sieges and holding out against the enemy.’

  ‘Some of our houses had to do that during the Civil War,’ said Sabrina. ‘But let me show you your rooms and you can explore the house later on. I am sure you will like it. It’s rambling and full of odd nooks and crannies. Your mother knows it well. It was once her home.’

  Dickon said he would show them round in the morning when it was light.

  We went to our rooms. I had my old one. I felt a twinge of sadness as I ascended the stairs because the last time I had been here my grandmother had been alive … so had my mother.

  Sabrina knew what I was thinking. She said: ‘Your grandmother died peacefully. She never really got over Zipporah’s death.’

  ‘My father never has,’ I said.

  ‘I know.’ She pressed my hand. ‘But, Lottie, my dear, she wouldn’t want you to be sad while you are here. She would be so delighted that you had come.’

  My old room. It must be more than ten years since I had been in it but it was still familiar to me.

  Sabrina said: ‘Come down when you have washed and changed. We are eating almost immediately. Dickon thought you would be in need of a good meal.’

  I washed and changed from my riding habit, and when I went downstairs I could hear the sounds of excited talking and laughter. The others were already in the punch-room close to the dining-room where, I remembered, they assembled before meals. I could hear Claudine’s high-pitched voice and the gruffer masculine ones.

  I went in. There was a brief silence and then Dickon said: ‘You remember the twins, Lottie.’

  Dickon’s sons! They must be almost twenty. Could that really be possible? I always thought of Dickon as being perpetually young. He must be forty-three. I had a sensation of time rushing past. My father was right. If we were ever going to make a life together, it should be soon.

  I remembered David and Jonathan well. They had a look of Dickon and there was a certain resemblance in them which one would expect of twins. Jonathan took my hand first and kissed it; then David did the same.

  ‘I remember you came here once before,’ said Jonathan.

  ‘My dear boy,’ said Dickon, ‘she lived here. It was her home.’

  ‘It must be interesting to come back to a place which was once your home, especially when you haven’t seen it for so long,’ said David.

  ‘It is very interesting indeed,’ I told him; ‘but best of all to see you and your family.’

  ‘Don’t talk about my family, Lottie,’ protested Dickon. ‘It is your family as well.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Sabrina. ‘Now we are all here, shall we go in? Our cook is a little temperamental and throws a tantrum in the kitchen if we let the food get cold.’

  We went to the dining-room with its tapestried walls and oak table lighted by two candelabra—one at each end. It looked very beautiful. Sabrina set at one end of it and Dickon at the other; she had placed me on Dickon’s right hand. Claudine was between David and Jonathan who, I could see, were amused by her bilingual conversation. She could speak English very well, for I had taught her, but she kept forgetting that she was in England and br
eaking into French with results which the twin brothers seemed to find hilarious. Louis-Charles had always been a young man who knew how to take care of himself and he and Sabrina chatted together in a mixture of bad French from Sabrina and execrable English from Louis-Charles. Dickon devoted himself to me. He was watching me intently, I knew, proud of this gracious dining-room, of the meal which was served, of the fact that I had at last succumbed to his repeated requests to visit Eversleigh.

  It was a happy evening and when it was time to retire, Claudine voiced the feelings of us all when she said: ‘It is wonderful for us to be here. But I don’t think I shall ever get to sleep tonight. I am too excited.’

  Sabrina insisted on accompanying me to my room. She shut the door and sat down in one of the armchairs.

  ‘I can’t tell you how happy we are to have you here, Lottie. Dickon has always talked a lot about you and every time he went to France he said he was going to bring you back with him. I gather things are not very happy over there.’

  ‘There is a good deal of rumour.’

  She nodded. ‘Dickon is full of foreboding. He has been saying for some time that you ought to get out.’

  ‘I know. He has mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Well … this is your home, you know.’

  I shook my head. ‘My home is over there.’

  ‘I was sorry your father could not come with you.’

  ‘So were we all.’

  ‘Dickon says he is a very fine gentleman.’

  ‘Dickon is right,’

  ‘But he is getting old, of course. After all, you are English, Lottie.’

  ‘My father is French.’

  ‘Yes, but you were brought up here. There was never anyone more English than your mother.’

  ‘And never anyone more French than my father.’ I smiled at her. ‘You see, that makes me a mixture. I love Eversleigh. I love it here … but my husband was French and my children are. That is my home, over there.’

  She sighed and said: ‘I am very sad sometimes. Your grandmother and I were very close, you know.’

  ‘I do know that.’

  ‘Now she is gone I miss her terribly.’

  ‘I know that. But you have Dickon.’

  A smile illumined face. ‘Oh yes … Dickon. How I should love to see him completely happy. It was your grandmother’s dearest wish … ’

  I interrupted her. ‘Yes, I know. She adored him.’

  ‘He is a wonderful person. It is a long time since poor Isabel died. People think it is strange that he did not marry again.’

  I said with a sudden burst of anger which Dickon could arouse in me: ‘Perhaps a good enough proposition did not arise. He had Eversleigh, Clavering and a great deal, I gather, from Isabel … ’

  Sabrina was the same as ever. In her mind, Dickon was above criticism and she did not see it even when it was blatantly expressed.

  ‘I know why he has never married,’ she said.

  ‘Well he has two sons. That is one reason why ambitious people marry, isn’t it?’

  ‘I remember in the days long ago when you were a child staying with us at Clavering—do you remember? You two were always together.’

  ‘I remember. That was after my mother inherited Eversleigh.’

  ‘He was so fond of you. We all were. He talked of nothing but Lottie … his little Lottie. And you … to you he was the sun, moon and stars and the whole universe thrown in.’

  ‘Children get fancies.’

  ‘It is rather charming when they persist through life.’

  I said: ‘Dickon knows that my half-brother disappeared. It is some little time ago now. His body was never found but because of the situation in France we think he was murdered. My father is a very wealthy man. I have heard it said that he is one of the most wealthy in France. Charlot will inherit in time, but it will come to me first when my father dies … ’

  She looked blank.

  ‘Dickon was very interested in the estate. I always remember how he came here to Eversleigh. He was just overwhelmed by it because it was so much grander than Clavering. I imagined Aubigné is much more valuable than Eversleigh, so you see he has discovered a great affection for me.’

  ‘He admired Eversleigh. Of course he did. Who wouldn’t? But he loved you, Lottie. He truly did. He never ceased to. I think he is unhappy at times. Do you know, my great desire in life is to see him happy.’

  ‘I know that,’ I told her. ‘Sabrina, you must be the most doting mother in the world.’

  She smiled at me and said: ‘Well, I am keeping you from your bed and you must be so tired.’ She rose from her chair. ‘Good night, my dear. It is lovely to have you here. We are going to do our best not to let you go from us, Lottie.’

  She paused at the door. ‘By the way, do you remember poor Griselda?’

  ‘Yes, I do. She kept Isabel’s rooms as they were at the time of her death. She was a little uncanny.’

  ‘She took a dislike to Dickon and spread tales about him and Isabel. She was so jealous of anyone who came between her and Isabel. We tried to stop her, but she was too old … senile really. It was a happy release when she went.’

  ‘So she is no longer with us?’

  ‘It must be all of five years since she died. The rooms have been thoroughly cleaned out and it is all very normal up there now.’

  ‘As you say,’ I murmured, ‘a happy release.’

  She put her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss to me. ‘Goodnight, dear Lottie. Pleasant dreams. Don’t forget we are going to do everything we can to keep you with us.’

  As Claudine had said, we were too excited to sleep that night.

  I was happy at Eversleigh. I knew I was going to miss it when I went away. There was something about the green fields and the May sunshine that was essentially England and not quite the same anywhere else in the world. I loved the way the sun would rapidly be obscured and if we were out we would have to take shelter from the sudden showers.

  It was the end of May and the April showers seemed to be lingering longer than usual this year. The hedges were full of simple wild flowers and I remembered how, when I was very young, my mother had taught me how to make a daisy-chain. I remembered the names of plants like silverweed, bird’s-foot trefoil, and lady’s-smock. I rode a great deal with Dickon and the boys. We were a merry party.

  Sabrina would come in the carriage and we would meet at some special beauty spot where we would have a picnic. We went to the sea; but I liked the country best, for the sea reminded me of that land only just over twenty miles away where my father would be counting the days until our return. The sea reminded me, too, that this was ephemeral, and I was realizing with every passing day that I wanted it to go on.

  I wanted to forget that Dickon loved power and money more than anything else, that he had married Isabel for what she could bring him, and that her faithful nurse had accused him of murder; and although there was such happiness at Eversleigh there were dark shadows too. I thought a great deal about Isabel, and those months when she was awaiting the birth of babies that did not come and the two who had killed her. How frightened she must have been, poor Isabel! It was as though her ghost had remained behind to come to me in quiet moments and sometimes very happy ones to remind me.

  Dickon was constantly there. Charlot admired him very much, so did Louis-Charles who was very happy at Eversleigh. Lisette had never really given him that deep mother love which children need; she had not wanted him and had so disliked the farmer whom she had married that she must see that period of her life often through Louis-Charles. He threw himself into the life of Eversleigh and he and Charlot often went off together and came back with stories of the inns they had visited and the towns through which they had passed.

  Claudine loved Eversleigh too. She went riding with the rest of them on some days and was delighted when Jonathan taught her how to take high jumps. I was a little worried about her, but Dickon said she had to learn and Jonathan would take care of her. She enjoyed
the attention of both twins and I fancied rather revelled in bestowing her attentions first on one, then on the other. At Eversleigh it was brought home to me more than ever how fast my daughter was growing up.

  Time was flying past.

  ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

  Old time is still a-flying,

  And this same flower that blooms today Tomorrow will be dying …’

  sang Sabrina, as she sat at the spinet and I knew that she meant me to take heed.

  Dickon was constantly with me, but he was clever. He did not suggest that I stay. He wanted Eversleigh to work its own magic on me.

  I was conscious, too, of the peace of the countryside. There was a quietness in the air and I realized how different it was in that land from which that strip of water divided us. When I looked at those waves lapping on the shore, sometimes grey and angry, sometimes blue and gently swishing, I thought it was the great divide between this peaceful happy life and that of suspense and brooding menace.

  I knew, when I was alone in my bedroom at night, that I wanted to be here, to stay here. It was my home, my country. And Dickon was here. If I were truthful I must admit I wanted Dickon.

  Sabrina was watchful. To her Dickon was the whole meaning of life. She was blind to his faults; she thought he was perfect. Surely she must know what he was really like. Did she refuse to see it because she did not want to? She adjusted all his actions to fit her perfect picture of him. Her face changed when he appeared. Her eyes would follow him, her mouth curved in gentle contentment.

  ‘Nobody,’ I once said to Dickon, ‘has any right to be adored as your mother adores you. It’s irreligious. It’s blasphemous. I really do believe she thinks you are greater than God.’

  He did refer then to his plans. He said: ‘There is only one thing needed to make me absolutely perfect in her eyes.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I retorted. ‘There is nothing. You are that already.’

  ‘Yes, there is. She wants me to be happily married and nobody will be quite right for Sabrina but you.’

  ‘God is perfect … omnipotent, omniscient … and that is you in Sabrina’s eyes. Never mind whomsoever you marry, provided it is your choice; that will be good enough for Sabrina.’