I said: “You make me sound grasping and scheming. Is that your opinion of me?”
He turned to me and took my hand. “I am sorry. I merely meant you are full of energy … full of the desire to enjoy life … which is what it is meant to be.”
“It is true,” Amaryllis confirmed. “Jessica is… how can I put it? … aware. I am far more gullible, more trusting, more stupid I suppose.”
“I will not allow you to say such things.” He had turned his attention to her. “Like Jessica, you are charming …”
“Although so different,” she added.
“You are both … as you should be.”
“You make us sound like paragons,” I said, “which we are not… even Amaryllis.”
“I shall insist on keeping my opinions.”
“You will probably change them when you know us better.”
“I know you very well already.”
“People can never really know each other.”
“You are thinking of the secret places of the heart. Well, perhaps that is what makes people so fascinating. Would you say that?”
“Perhaps.”
“I am still a little at sea about these relatives of yours. Who is the lively young gentleman?”
“You mean Jonathan?”
“Yes, Jonathan. What exactly is his relationship?”
“My father in his first marriage had twin sons—David and Jonathan. Jonathan married Millicent Pettigrew and young Jonathan is their son. David married my mother’s daughter by her first marriage, Claudine. And Amaryllis is the outcome of that marriage.”
“So Amaryllis and Jonathan are cousins.”
“Yes, and I am Jonathan’s—as well as Amaryllis’—aunt.”
“Isn’t it strange what complicated relations we have managed to build up,” said Amaryllis.
“My father likes Jonathan to come here,” I said. “I daresay he’ll have Eversleigh one day, after David has died of course.”
“Don’t speak of it,” said Amaryllis quickly.
“It will be years and years and we all have to go some time,” I retorted lightly.
“And haven’t the Pettigrews got an estate for Jonathan somewhere?”
“They have a fine house but it is not exactly an estate,” said Amaryllis.
“It will have to be Eversleigh for Jonathan,” I put in. “My father will insist. It was lucky that his sons were so different. David was very good for the estate and I believe his brother Jonathan wasn’t interested. He had all sorts of mysterious irons in the fire. He died violently … I think because of them. I am sure he would never have settled down to run the estate. It may be Jonathan will be like his father.”
“My mother says he reminds her so much of him,” said Amaryllis.
“Your father seems to be a man who knows exactly what he wants,” said Peter to me. “And he’ll make sure he gets it.”
“That sums him up perfectly,” I replied. “There will be trouble if Jonathan doesn’t come up to expectations. He is always saying it is a pity David didn’t have a son as well as you, Amaryllis. He is very fond of you but he would have preferred you to be a boy. He thinks David’s son would have been … amenable.”
“You see,” said Amaryllis, “I have a reputation for being easily led.”
“That’s not exactly true,” I replied. “Amaryllis can be firm, but she is inclined to believe the best of people.”
“What a nice compliment for an aunt to pay her niece,” said Peter lightly; he slipped his arms through mine and that of Amaryllis.
We had reached the house.
Peter said goodbye to us and went back to Enderby. He would be returning later for the evening festivities.
It was a very merry party which sat down for Christmas dinner, consisting of the Barringtons, with Clare Carson, Peter Lansdon, the Pettigrews and our own family. It also included the doctor and his wife and the solicitor from the nearby town, who looked after my father’s domestic business at Eversleigh. For several years they had been our guests and the only newcomer was Peter Lansdon. He made a difference to the party. He had all the social graces to make him immediately popular. Clare Carson seemed to like him a great deal—but I think that was largely due to the fact that she believed he wanted to marry me and that I felt strongly about him.
I was thinking a great deal about Edward and it seemed to me that it would be an excellent idea if she married him. She would care for him, sympathize with him; and she knew something about the factory for she had lived with the family in Nottingham since she was a child.
How unfortunate life was! Why did people set their hearts on the wrong people?
I talked to Edward at dinner and asked how matters were faring at Nottingham.
He said: “No doubt you have heard that these people are getting more and more violent. It is not just confined to Nottingham now. It is spreading all over the country. This cursed French revolution has a lot to answer for.”
“Indeed it has in France.”
“Something like that can’t happen without sending its reverberations all over the world.”
“What will happen about these people who are breaking up the machines?”
“Penalties for the culprits must get harsher. It is the only way to stop it.”
“You mean … transportation?”
“That… and hanging most likely. Only stupid men would not see that you can’t stand still in industry. You have to go forward.”
“Even if it means losing their jobs?”
“Then they must find other jobs. In time the industry will be more prosperous and that will mean more security for them.” He looked at me apologetically. “Hardly the subject for the Christmas feast.”
I put my hand over his. “Poor Edward,” I said. “It is hard to forget it.”
He pressed my hand. I think Peter saw the gesture and I thought with a little touch of excitement: He will be jealous.
I was young. I was frivolous. I was vain; and I could not help being excited because two men were in love with me. I liked Edward so much and I was very sorry for him. If Peter asked me to marry him … when Peter asked me to marry him… what should I say? I could not shilly-shally for ever. The circumstances of our meeting had been so unusual, so romantic. Of course I was going to marry Peter. I was not sure whether I was in love with him. I was very much a novice when it came to falling in love. I felt this was not quite how I ought to feel. But I must be in love with Peter.
My father was talking across the table to Lord Pettigrew who was seated opposite him. I heard my name mentioned and realized they were talking about the adventure and how Peter had rescued me.
Peter was alert, listening.
“I am still making enquiries,” my father was saying. “I don’t intend to let the matter drop. I am going to sift it out.”
“Difficult to trace … The place is empty, you say.”
“The Delarge woman is said to own the place. I don’t believe that. I wonder if there is someone behind her. I’m keeping my eyes open.”
Conversation buzzed round us and continued in a light vein until the meal was over and the hall cleared for dancing.
Peter was a good dancer. He danced with me and then with Amaryllis. That left me free for Edward, who danced rather laboriously—correctly but without inspiration.
“You ought to come for a visit to Nottingham,” he said. “Your mother told me she would like to. She and my mother get on so well together.”
“Yes, it would be interesting,” I said.
“It is a very pleasant house really, lacking the antiquity of this one, of course. But it’s a good family house … some way from the town and we are surrounded by green fields.”
“Perhaps we can come in the spring,” I said. “Edward, I do hope your troubles will be over by then.”
“They must be. They can’t go on. The law will be more stringent and then we shall see changes.”
“Your parents are worried.”
&nbs
p; “Yes, about me … in the thick of it.”
“Oh Edward … take care.”
He pressed my hand. “Do you really care?”
“What a stupid question! Of course I do. I care about your whole family … your mother, father, you and Clare. Clare is very worried about you, I believe.”
“Oh yes, she is one of the family.”
I thought how pleased I should be if he and Clare married. I would cease to have a conscience about him then.
“You haven’t made up your mind … ?”
I wanted to say: Yes, I have. I think I shall marry Peter Lansdon, but how could I say that when he hadn’t asked me? All I was aware of was that being with him was exciting, exhilarating, and the manner of our first meeting had seemed so unusual, so adventurous that it was significant.
I said hesitantly: “N-no, Edward. Not yet.”
He sighed and I was very worried because I was going to hurt him. It seemed so sad in view of all his business problems.
I wished I could have made him happier. If I promised to marry him he would have forgotten his business troubles for a while at any rate. And how pleased his parents and mine would have been! At the same time I felt a little irritated with him. It is a sad commentary on human nature that when one could help and doesn’t one begins to dislike the person who arouses one’s pity … largely because one hates feeling uncomfortable, I suppose.
I was glad to escape from Edward.
And there was Peter who, having danced with Amaryllis, was now coming towards me. His step was light. He took charge of the dance. I went where I was led and it was like dancing on air.
He said. “What a happy day it was when I stopped at the Green Man. Do you know I almost went to the Cat and Fiddle. Suppose I had? I should not have been in the street… I should never have noticed the girl pretending to be blind … never have rescued you … never have been here tonight dancing with you.”
“And where should I be?”
“Don’t think of that. I was just marvelling at the good fortune which has brought me here. Your father still thinks of it. I heard him talking to Lord Pettigrew.”
“He won’t let it rest. He has many concerns in London. If it is possible to find out who those people were … he will.”
“They are probably out of the country now.”
“Do you think so?”
“In that sort of criminal underworld you never know what is going on.”
“My father is the sort of man who would never let any detail escape him. He doesn’t go so much to London now that he is getting older, though. But he was in all sorts of things earlier … and so was his son, Jonathan. We hear whispers of it in the family. I think perhaps Jonathan would be more suited to that sort of work than running an estate … just like his father was. Some people have the temperament… others haven’t. Amaryllis has quite a gift. She goes round the estate with her father. She has a gentle personality and the people like her. I have heard David say that you have to establish a relationship with the people on the estate. It is not merely a matter of keeping down rents and repairing homes. It’s a sort of comradeship as well. Amaryllis has that gift, her father says. Her parents think she is quite perfect. Mind you, they are not far wrong. In our family there are the good and docile ones and the wild rebellious ones. Amaryllis and I are good examples of both types.”
“I think you are both enchanting.”
“But different.”
“Well, of course.”
“You dance well. Where did you learn?”
“I was sent to school in England and then I had a year in the North with some cousins where I was supposed to learn how to live in graceful society.”
“That was before you went out to help your father in Jamaica?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, they certainly taught you well.”
“Dancing or the social conduct required in English society?”
“Both.”
“It is amazing to remember that we have known each other such a short time.”
“Yes, but we have seen each other frequently since our first meeting.”
“I’m grateful to Enderby.”
“How are you liking it in that great barn of a house?”
“I like very much what is close to it.”
“How long shall you stay?”
“It depends.”
“You mean on what you find here? Have you discovered anything that might be suitable?”
“To tell the truth I’ve hardly had time to look—what with the Christmas festivities and the kind hospitality of my good neighbours. I like Enderby.”
“Do you? It’s amazing how people become fascinated by it. There was my Aunt Sophie. She saw it and immediately wanted it.”
“It is a family house really.”
“Of course. Far too big for one.”
“It would change completely … with many children.”
“You are right. We should look for a married couple with a considerable brood.”
“The marriage need not be of long duration. The house could wait for the patter of little feet.”
I laughed. This was exciting. I thought he was going to ask me then. And what should I say? Could I say, It is too soon. I am not yet sure …
The dance was over and the servants were bringing round cooling drinks.
We sat for a while and then he said: “Excuse me. I am engaged to your niece for this one.”
I watched him dancing with Amaryllis. She was laughing and talking quite animatedly. I was glad that she liked him too.
Edward came and sat beside me.
Peter was a gracious host at Enderby on Boxing Day. Amaryllis and I congratulated ourselves on the decorations which we had helped to put up; and I must say the old house seemed to have lost entirely that dour ghostliness which had been such a feature of it in the past.
Peter had devised a very clever treasure hunt through the house and this provided a great deal of merriment for he had wittily phrased the clues which led from one spot to another. It was rather uncanny to hear the old house echoing with laughter.
There was a good deal in what David always said, and Peter had seconded it, that with people in the house Enderby would be just like any other.
“I never thought we should have a jolly time in this house,” said my mother.
“You’ve laid the ghost,” my father told Peter.
It was two days later when Peter had been riding with Amaryllis and me and on the way home came into Eversleigh for a glass of wine before going on to Enderby.
We were in the hall. My parents were with us and so were Claudine and David—when one of the servants came in and said that Farmer Weston wanted to see my father—and added that Farmer Weston seemed rather upset.
“Bring him in,” said my father, and Farmer Weston came into the hall. He certainly looked agitated.
“I want to have a word with you in private, sir,” he said.
“You can say what you have to say here. Anything wrong at the farm?”
“No sir … not exactly. It’s my Lizzie and … another. I’d rather talk in private.”
“Come on in here then.” My father led him into the room we called the winter parlour.
They were there for about ten minutes before they came out—Farmer Weston was very red in the face and my father looked quite angry, not with Farmer Weston though for he said to him quite gently: “Don’t worry. I’ll speak to him. Perhaps no harm’s done. Young people …”
He went out with Farmer Weston and soon afterwards joined us. My mother looked at him interrogatively.
“That scamp Jonathan,” he said.
“What is it this time?”
“Weston’s Lizzie.”
“She’s only a child. What is she? Fourteen or so?”
“That makes it worse. Jonathan’s not much older. That boy’s got a few things to learn. If he’s got to sow his wild oats he’d better choose somewhere else to do it—not on my lan
d.”
My mother looked at my father and then at Peter.
“I’m sorry about his,” she said.
“Well,” said my father. “Young people. Hot blood. These things happen. I had a job to calm down Weston.”
Peter, showing a slight embarrassment as though he realized he had strayed into something which my father would have wished to be private, said he must be going and took his leave.
“He has impeccable manners,” said my mother. “Dickon, need you have blurted that out in front of him?”
“You asked me and I told you. Nothing very unusual about it. I think we shall have some more of that sort of trouble from Jonathan. Or the Pettigrews will. I was wondering if I ought to speak to Millicent or her father.”
My mother said: “You know Millicent. She can see no wrong in her boy. And Lord Pettigrew is too softly spoken. Now Lady Pettigrew … No, Dickon, you are the one who will strike fear into his wicked little heart. You’ll have to do it.”
“He’s his father all over again.”
“Well, Jonathan was a fine worker and he died nobly,” said Claudine.
“Yes, but all this philandering doesn’t go down well on the estate.”
“You are quite content for him to do it elsewhere?” I said.
“My dear girl, you know nothing about these matters.”
“Weston’s a good man,” said David. “His farm is a model for some of them.”
“And now he’s going to worry about his Lizzie,” put in my father. “If she presents us with a baby in nine months’ time, our Jonathan will be in trouble.”
“I suppose that was why Weston came to see you at once,” said David. “He wants you to know that Jonathan is responsible.”
“The young can be a plaguey nuisance,” said my father. “He’s got to mend his ways. I’ll not have Eversleigh going to someone who is going to play ducks and drakes with it… that’s for certain. His father was no good on the estate.”
“Well, you had David,” said Claudine.
My father grunted.
“We’ll see how the young scamp shapes up. I’ll have to see him. I’m going to my study. Get the servants to find him and send him to me at once.”
Return of the Gypsy Page 18
