Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Griselda

I WAS SO ABSORBED with my baby that I did not take much interest in what was happening in the outside world. My great pleasure was in the nursery, where the new baby was received with awe by Chariot and Louis-Charles. Claudine was a noisy baby with a good pair of lungs and from the first seemed to know what she wanted.

‘She’s different from Monsieur Charlot,’ said the nurse. ‘A will of her own, that one.’

She had been born rather an ugly baby but grew more beautiful every day. She had dark fluffy hair and quite a lot of it for one so young and eyes that were of a vivid blue.

We all adored her and when she cried it was a charming sight to see Charlot at the side of her cradle murmuring: ‘Hush! Hush! Charlot is here.’

I was very happy with my children.

Charles talked of little else but the trouble between England the colonists. At first I thought he was so strongly on the side of the colonists to tease me by jeering at the English. He often reminded me, rather ruefully, that I was more English than French; and this was true, for although no one could be more French than my father and even Jean-Louis, who I had believed for so long had sired me, by a strange coincidence had been half French, having been brought up in England by my English mother, I was decidedly of that nature—in my outlook, my manners—in fact in everything. Even though I now spoke fluent French and often thought in that language, Charles liked to remind me of what he called my Englishness and whenever there was a disagreement between us, he would say: ‘There is the Englishwoman.’

Whether he really did have the Frenchman’s natural antipathy to the English I was not sure, or whether it was done in a bantering way, but it continued and the war made more verbal ammunition to hurl at me.

Without knowing very much about the situation I defended the English, which delighted him and gave him a chance to prove me wrong again and again.

‘I tell you,’ he said on one occasion, ‘this could mean war between England and France.’

‘Surely the French would not act so out of character as to go to war for someone else’s benefit?’

‘It is the cause of liberty, my dear.’

‘There are troubles enough here in France,’ I said. ‘Why do you worry about colonists from another country far from here when your own peasants are verging on revolt and would perhaps like to see a little of that fair treatment you are talking about.’

‘You talk like a rebel,’ said Charles.

‘You talk like a fool. As if France would go to war about this matter which is the concern of another country.’

‘There is strong feeling here.’

‘For the sole purpose of embarrassing the English.’

‘They got themselves into this embarrassing situation. We did nothing to bring it about.’

‘But you seek to exploit it.’

And so we went on.

About the time when Claudine was five months old there was a Declaration of Independence in America and Charles was jubilant.

‘These brave people are fighting a big nation for their freedom. Mon Dieu, I should like to join them. Do you know there is talk of sending an army from France?’

It occurred to me then that Charles might be finding life at Tourville a little dull. He was not really meant to manage a large estate, and because I had seen something of the manner in which such places were run—there was my father for one at Aubigné and I had lived on our estates of Clavering and Eversleigh—I did realize that Charles lacked the real aptitude. There was a manager, of course, but managers, however good, did not compensate for the indifference of their owners.

I listened half-heartedly to the talk about the American War of Independence and the part France was going to play in it, but I was really absorbed by the children. Then Lisette and I spent hours talking and riding together and sometimes walking. It was always fun to be with Lisette.

In December Charles went back to Paris and stayed there for several weeks. When he came back his enthusiasm for the war was at fever pitch. He had met three deputies from America—Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane and Arthur Lee. Everyone was talking about them, he said, and in spite of their extraordinary appearance they had been invited everywhere as the French were so eager to hear about their fight for independence.

‘Their manners were so simple,’ he said, ‘and they wore their hair unpowdered and the plainest cloth suits I ever saw in my life. But Paris is in a frenzy over them. People are demanding that we go to war against the English at once.’

He had been in the company of the Marquis de Lafayette earlier in the year and had been most impressed when the Marquis bought a vessel and loaded it with ammunition and after certain troubles set sail from America.

Feeling in the country was high against England but the King was adamant that France should not become involved in a war.

That was the state of affairs when a messenger arrived from Aubigné.

My mother had news from Eversleigh that my grandmother was very ill and was longing to see us. Sabrina had written that if we could possibly make the journey Clarissa would be so happy and if we did not come soon we might not have an opportunity of seeing her.

Sabrina was clearly distressed, for she and my grandmother had been very close all their lives.

‘Dickon has never recovered from his wife’s death,’ she continued. ‘It has been a great sadness to us all. Poor Dickon. Fortunately he is very busy and spends most of his time in London, so he has plenty to occupy him which stops him brooding on his loss … ’

I wondered what he was like now. What would he do? Look round for a new heiress, I thought cynically. It was of no interest to me now. I was a wife and a mother.

My mother had also written. ‘My dear, I know it is asking a good deal to expect you to leave your home but we should not stay long … just long enough to see your grandmother. As Sabrina says, there might not be another chance. I shall go in any case and it would be wonderful if you came with me. Your grandmother asks particularly for you.’

When I showed Charles the letter he said of course I must go.

Lisette thought it would be interesting for me to see my old home. She longed to come with me but that was, of course, out of the question.

‘Don’t stay long,’ she implored me. ‘I can’t imagine this place without you.’

Charles’s parting shot was: ‘See if you can persuade them over there to come to their senses. They’re in for a humiliating defeat if they don’t. Wait till France gets busy across the Atlantic.’

‘I am not going on a political mission but to see a sick grandmother,’ I reminded him.

‘Then make sure you don’t stay too long,’ he said. ‘This place is quite dull without you.’

My feelings were very mixed as my mother and I made the journey to the coast accompanied by my father who saw us on to the packet boat before leaving us. It had been sad to say goodbye to the children, to Charles and Lisette, but I was anxious about my grandmother and I could not suppress a certain excitement at the prospect of seeing Eversleigh again. I think my mother felt the same, though she was very subdued.

We had a reasonably good crossing and arrived at Dover in the afternoon so that it was evening before we reached Eversleigh.

There was the old house as I remembered it—not so imposing perhaps as the Château d’Aubigné, but grand in its own mariner.

Sabrina rushed out when she heard our arrival. She embraced us fervently. ‘It is wonderful to see you!’ she cried. ‘I am so delighted that you have come.’

‘How is my mother?’ asked my mother.

‘Weak … but so excited at the prospect of seeing you. I am sure it will do her the world of good. Oh, here’s Dickon.’

And there he was—Dickon, who had been so much in my thoughts for so long. He was just as I remembered him—‘larger than life’, as someone had once said of him; and as good-looking as he ever had been. A wig covered those hyacinthine locks, which was a pity, but his eyes were even more startlingly blue than I remembered.

‘Zipporah!’ he cried, first to my mother. He embraced her and I noticed that she tried to hold aloof, but he appeared not to notice that and hugged her affectionately.

And then he was looking at me. He said my name softly. ‘Lottie … Lottie … grown-up Lottie.’

I held out my hand to him but he ignored the gesture and lifted me up in his arms, laughing up at me.

‘How exciting … Lottie is here.’

Sabrina was looking at him with that mingling of admiration, tenderness and adoration which I remembered so well. I saw my mother’s lips tighten, and I thought: Nothing has changed.

As for myself I had been waiting ever since I knew I was coming here for this moment.

‘They must be worn out,’ said Sabrina. ‘Did you have a good journey? Your rooms are ready … your old rooms. I thought you would like that. But would you like to see Clarissa first?’

‘Of course,’ said my mother. ‘Let’s go to her at once.’

Sabrina led the way up the staircase which I remembered so well.

Dickon was close to me. He put an arm around me. ‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘what fun that you are here.’

I said coolly: ‘I hope my grandmother is not seriously ill.’

‘She is getting on in years now,’ said Sabrina, ‘and she has grown weaker these last months. That is why I thought you should come.’

‘You should have come before,’ said Dickon.

Sabrina smiled. ‘Of course they should. In fact we were all very put out that you went abroad.’

‘At least that left you Eversleigh,’ I said, looking at Dickon. I was telling myself: It is different now. I know so much about you. I know you chose this place instead of me.

I must remember that, for in these first moments I was beginning to be too much aware of the potent charm of Dickon and was filled with misgiving.

We went to my grandmother’s room. She was sitting up in bed looking frail but pretty in a lacey pink bedjacket.

‘Zipporah!’ she cried and my mother ran to her. ‘And Lottie! Oh my dears … how wonderful to see you. It has seemed so long …

We embraced and she made us sit on either side of the bed. ‘Tell me all your news,’ she said. ‘Tell me about dear little Charlot and Claudine. Oh, Lottie, it is so odd to think of you as a mother. You seem only a child yourself.’

‘Time passes. I am no longer a child, Grandmother.’

‘Dear Lottie, as lovely as ever. She is, is she not, Sabrina? Dickon?’

Sabrina nodded and Dickon said: ‘She’s lovelier. She’s Lottie-grown-up, Lottie the woman. She’s even more lovely than Lottie the child.’

Sabrina and my grandmother looked at him and smiled in the way I remembered so well. My mother’s face had hardened and the years seemed to drop away and we were back in those days when there was conflict because Dickon wanted to marry me.

‘You are a father now, Dickon,’ she said.

‘Oh, the terrible twins,’ put in Sabrina indulgently. ‘They were rather cross because they weren’t allowed to sit up. You’ll see them in the morning.’

‘They must be about eight years old now,’ said my mother.

‘So you remember,’ commented my grandmother indulgently.

‘You’ll have a lot of time to talk,’ said Sabrina, smiling at my grandmother. ‘I’m going to take them to their rooms now. You’ll want to wash and have something to eat, I dare say. You’ll see them again very soon, Clarissa.’

My grandmother nodded and smiled contentedly while Sabrina took charge of us and led us to our rooms.

What memories come back to me in that room! And I am sure my mother felt the same in hers. She had not always been happy here and she was obviously remembering a great deal that was disturbing. We were both going to find our stay here rather upsetting. A brief glimpse of Dickon had made that certain. He had lost none of his charm and I was as conscious of him as I had ever been. I warned myself I would have to be wary.

I washed and changed and went down with my mother to a meal.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ I asked her.

She turned to give me a searching look. ‘I’m a little emotional, I’m afraid. It’s coming back here. I remember so much about the place. Uncle Carl … and then Jean-Louis and I here together.’

‘Grandmother, Sabrina and Dickon were not here then.’

‘No, they came when we left.’

‘I dare say there will be lots of differences.’

‘Oh, I dare say. Your grandmother does not seem as bad as I feared she might be. That’s a relief. I don’t think we should stay very long, do you, Lottie? I mean … you’ll be wanting to get home … and your father made me promise not to stay too long.’

‘We have only just come,’ I reminded her.

But even as early as that I was telling myself that I should never have agreed to come, for Dickon was determined to take up our relationship where it had been broken off, which was characteristic of his attitude to life. I really do believe that he saw himself as the very centre of existence with everything revolving round him and everyone there for his convenience. Others might be obliged to take care what they did; the same did not apply to him. If he wanted to act without honour he would do so; I am sure he believed so charmingly that everyone would forgive him.

‘No, I told myself. Not everyone. I shall never forget that he chose Eversleigh and let me go.

As we sat at table that night he singled me out for his attention.

‘Do you ride much in France, Lottie?’ he asked.

‘A great deal,’ I replied.

‘Good. We’ll go out tomorrow. I have just the horse for you.’

Sabrina smiled. ‘It will do you good, Lottie. And you’ll be safe with Dickon.’

I wanted to burst out laughing. I should be safer even alone than with Dickon.

My mother was talking about Claudine and what an enchanting child she was. ‘She has a bit of a temper, the nurse tells me. Oh, I do wish I could see my grandchildren more. Little Charlot is quite a charmer.’

‘What would you expect of Lottie’s son?’ asked Dickon.

‘I am wondering,’ I retorted, ‘what I am to expect of yours.’

‘Strange to think of us as parents, eh Lottie?’ said Dickon.

‘Why? We are no longer young.’

‘That’s nonsense,’ he said. ‘I feel young. You look young. Therefore we are young. Is that not so, dear Mother?’

‘Dickon is right,’ said Sabrina. Indeed, I thought, when in your eyes has he ever been anything else?

My mother asked questions about the neighbourhood. ‘What of that old house. Enderby?’

‘It’s empty now,’ Sabrina told her. ‘The Forsters left after the fire. They wanted to get away … understandably. Another family came but they didn’t stay long. Nobody does at Enderby. Dickon was a hero in that fire.’

‘My mother always sees the best of me,’ said Dickon.

‘Yes,’ put in my mother coolly, ‘she does indeed.’

‘Well, isn’t that the way a mother should see her offspring?’ asked Dickon. ‘Don’t you look at dear Lottie through rose-coloured glasses?’

‘I don’t need to,’ retorted my mother. ‘Lottie pleases me very much in her natural state.’

‘Zipporah has indeed become the gracious lady,’ observed Dickon. ‘Madame la Comtesse—no less. You must live very magnificently in your château.’

‘It is very pleasant,’ admitted my mother.

‘You look younger than you did before you left England. Oh, but then, of course, you had such anxieties.’

My mother did not reply. She went on quietly eating her food; but I knew she was annoyed with him and that he was deliberately stirring up memories which she would rather forget. For all that, she was determined not to let him see this, but I, who knew her so well, realized that she was feeling far from calm.

I was glad when the meal was over and we could retire. My mother said she would go straight to her room, for the journey had been very exhausting indeed.

We called in on my grandmother and chatted for about a quarter of an hour and then went to our rooms.

I had not been in mine very long when there was a tap on my door. I felt my heart start to race. I thought: No. Even he would not dare.

A voice said: ‘May I come in?’

Relief flooded over me for it was Sabrina.

‘Oh, Lottie,’ she said. ‘I do hope you are comfortable. I am so glad you came with your mother. Your grandmother is delighted. She has talked of nothing else since she knew you were coming. We are all so pleased?’

I said: ‘I am looking forward to meeting Dickon’s sons.’

‘You’ll love them. They are such rascals. Dickon says Jonathan takes after him, so you will gather that Jonathan is the more lively of the two.’

‘It must be great fun to have twins.’

‘Yes … and very fortunate in view of what happened. I think he still grieves for Isabel. It was so sad. It was what they wanted more than anything else—a son.’

‘I have heard that she was not very strong.’

‘She had several disappointments before. Then she succeeded and brought them into the world and ironically their coming cost her life.’

‘It is very sad. I gather it was a happy marriage.’

‘Oh very. They were so well suited. So different too. She was so quiet. She adored him.’

‘So there was yet another to worship at his feet.’

‘Your mother always laughed at our fondness for him. You’re not surprised, are you? There is something very special about Dickon. I believe you thought that once.’

She was looking at me speculatively and I flushed.

‘A sort of child’s hero-worship,’ I murmured.

‘Dickon was quite upset when you went to France.’

‘I thought he was very happy to get Eversleigh. He wouldn’t have had it if my mother hadn’t married and gone away. That must have made up for everything else.’

‘Of course he loves Eversleigh and he manages it perfectly. Poor Jean-Louis was not up to it. Well, it worked out very well.’

‘Do you often go to Clavering?’

‘Hardly ever. Dickon put in a very good manager and he himself is here most of the time when he is not in London.’

‘Oh, I remember you wrote and said he had his fingers in a lot of pies.’

‘Dickon is not the sort to shut himself away in the country. He is in London a good deal, as a matter of fact. He has friends there … in influential places. Isabel’s father was a wealthy banker, as you probably know.’

‘I did hear that he had married a great heiress.’

‘Yes. When her father died she inherited everything. So with banking interests in London and friends at Court Dickon leads a very busy life. But he was determined to be at Eversleigh when you came.’

She stood up and regarded me intently. She took it for granted that I joined in this adulation for Dickon. After all, before I left England I had been as loud in my praises of him as anyone.

‘You have fulfilled your early promise, Lottie. You really are beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘I am sure Carlotta must have been very like you. There is a portrait of her in the house. You will see for yourself that the likeness is remarkable. Oh well, my dear, it is wonderful to see you here. I hope you are not going to run away too soon.’ She kissed me. ‘I’ll say good-night. Sleep well.’

When she had gone I sat on the bed and thought of Dickon’s marrying Isabel, the banker’s daughter and heiress. He had done that soon after I had left for France. I thought cynically: He did well out of his women. Because of me … Eversleigh. And his wife Isabel had brought him a fortune as well as an interesting life in London. Court circles no less! One could trust Dickon to get the best out of life.

I could not stop thinking of him. I tried to analyse my feelings and I came to the conclusion that in many ways I felt unsafe.

I turned the key in the lock. Only thus could I feel secure.

During the next few days I spent a great deal of time in Dickon’s company. It was impossible to avoid him. Wherever I decided to go he would be there. He regarded me with that slightly sardonic look as though to say: It is no use trying to escape. You know you never could escape from me.

I reminded myself a hundred times a day that he was an adventurer, that nobody was of any great account to him except himself. He was proud of his boys. I found them interesting, for they were so much alike in appearance and had an undoubted look of Dickon. They were different in character though. David was quiet and studious; Jonathan noisy and excelling at outdoor sports. They were not close to each other as some twins are. In fact they seemed to be highly critical of each other. Jonathan was very quick to resort to fisticuffs, but David was the master of the cutting remark. There seemed to be a rivalry between them which their tutor tried hard to eradicate. Mr Raine was a man in his early forties with a rather forbidding manner which I thought was exactly what the boys needed. They were both in awe of Dickon, clearly admired him and sought his favour. Dickon himself had little time for them and had never been inclined to pretend what he did not feel. He had two sons, which pleased him. They were the heirs and necessary to propagate the line; he had employed a tutor who could deal adequately with their education until it was time to send them away to school; there his interest ended.

We spent a great deal of time with my grandmother. After all, that was the reason why we had come and our arrival had done a lot for her. She talked with my mother over old times and the happy life she and Sabrina had had together bringing up Dickon.

There was no escaping Dickon in that house. My grandmother and Sabrina talked of him constantly and whenever I was alone he contrived to find me. When I went riding he would be beside me. I knew what his purpose was and I guessed it would be the same with any reasonable young woman. Dickon knew exactly what he wanted and he expected everyone to fall in with his wishes.

Apart from ambitions he had been strongly attracted by me and I wondered whether he had been to Isabel; and being Dickon, he assumed that he was irresistible and it would only be a matter of time before he overcame my scruples and we indulged in a love-affair.

I was aware of this and so was my mother; no doubt she had memories about her first meeting with my father which had taken place near Enderby. I was determined not to be a partner in Dickon’s search for temporary satisfaction. Sabrina and my grandmother believed of course that he was merely playing the host in his charming, gracious way, but to me, from our first day, his intentions were clear.

After spending most of the morning with my grandmother I went down to the stables in the early afternoon and asked one of the grooms to saddle a horse for me, which he did. I was looking forward to a nostalgic afternoon, visiting the places I remembered from all those years ago and I would remind myself of what a happy life I had found in France. I loved Charles—with reservations, it was true. I saw his faults. I did not believe that he was always faithful to me; I had, in some measure, accepted the marital conventions of my new country and I realized that the basis of a happy marriage, to the French, meant one in which a woman did not probe too deeply into her husband’s extramarital relationships. Some women might have said that what was in order for men might be for women too and some I knew carried their beliefs into practice. But I did see that there was some point in inflicting a more rigid code on women for the simple reason that romantic interludes could result in children.

Lisette and I had discussed the matter frequently. She said it was unfair. There should be one law and one only and that should apply to both men and women. If a child was the result, the man who had fathered it should be named since the woman had no alternative but to be recognized as the mother. But no. It was not like that. How many men had their clandestine relationships, resulting in difficulties for the partner in them, and escaped the shame, humiliation and practical difficulties of having a child born out of wedlock?

Lisette could argue fiercely about the matter. I always enjoyed these discussions and we usually made a habit of taking opposite sides so that we could get the most out of the discussion.

Now I thought of Lisette and considered how amused she would be to see Dickon pursuing me.

I could almost hear myself talking to Lisette. Yes, I would say, he does attract me. He always did … I think more than anyone I ever knew. More than Charles? Well, Charles did too. There is a similarity about them. They both have that swaggering attitude to life and see themselves as the all-conquering male and the strange thing is that while I resent it strongly, I am attracted by it. I am determined to resist submission and yet at the same time I enjoy being conquered.

It was a pity Lisette had not come with us. She would force me to be absolutely frank about my feeling for Dickon.

Right from the first I was exhilarated. It was a battle between us from which both he and I were determined to come out victorious. He saw himself as the irresistible seducer; I, as the woman who, if tempted, was not going to sink her pride so deeply that she forgot her marriage vows and the fact that this man had jilted her in favour of a great property.

On that afternoon I had not gone very far when I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and looking over my shoulder was not at all surprised to see Dickon.

‘Riding alone?’ he said. ‘That won’t do.’

‘I was finding it very pleasant.’

‘But so much more so with an interesting and charming companion who knows the countryside well.’

‘Your assessment of your character is your own, of course, and the countryside is not altogether unfamiliar to me. Remember I lived here once.’

‘Don’t remind me, Lottie. My life took the wrong turning when you went away.’

‘The wrong one? To Eversleigh, to the Bank, is it? … the life at Court, the fingers in pies? Oh, Dickon, how can you be so ungrateful to the fate which brought you all these good things!’

‘I am not ungrateful. I am just telling you that the very thing which would have made my happiness complete was denied me.’

‘You look contented with life, Dickon. I would forget the extra flavouring and thank God for your good fortune.’

‘I missed you, Lottie.’

‘One does miss people sometimes when they go away.’

‘You went to France for a holiday and stayed there.’

‘And you came to Eversleigh. It was yours; the dream of your life—or the chief one at that time—come true. What more could you ask?’

‘You, Lottie, with it.’

‘But there was a choice, wasn’t there? One or the other.’

‘You were a child. I didn’t know then … ’

‘It is strange to hear you admit ignorance. Shall we talk of something more interesting.’

‘This is of the utmost interest to me.’

‘But not to me and it takes two to make a conversation. Tell me about affairs in London. There is a great deal of talk in France about the American Colonies.’

‘Talk!’ he said. ‘There is more than talk. The wretched French are helping the rebels.’

‘I believe some people even over here think they are right.’

‘There is no reason why foreigners should interfere.’

‘My husband is a staunch supporter of the colonists and thinks those in France who are seeking to help them are doing what is right.’

‘And you can live with such a traitor?’

‘Traitor? He is no traitor. He is a man of opinions.’

‘Are you in love with him?’

I hesitated for a moment and then replied almost defiantly: ‘Yes.’

‘A convincing negative,’ he said. ‘Lottie, don’t go back. Stay here.’

‘You must be mad. I have two children over there.’

‘We could send for them.’

‘You’re joking, of course. You have a most extraordinary high opinion of yourself. I suppose that comes of living your life with two adoring females.’

‘I think I see myself as I am.’

I laughed. ‘Tall, handsome, commanding, irresistible to all women, chivalrous—in conversation—honourable, never betraying anyone unless the price is high enough … ’

‘You are hard on me.’

‘I see you as you are.’

‘And if you were honest with yourself you would admit you like what you see.’

I pressed my horse to a gallop, for at that moment we had come into open country.

He was beside me and I enjoyed the sheer exhilaration of the ride.

We came back past Enderby. It looked gloomy now. I remembered it as it had been when the Forsters had been there. They had cut away the shrubs which grew in profusion round the house; now they were overgrown again. I could see why it had a reputation for being haunted.

‘Would you like to look round it?’ asked Dickon. ‘We can get in easily through one of the ground-floor windows. It has a broken latch. The place is very overrun. It has been empty for two years.’

I wanted to go inside and yet on the other hand I was aware of warning within me. No, I must not go into that house. My mother had gone there with my father. Very possibly I had been conceived in that house. There was something about it which was apparent even from the outside. My mother, when she had told me about my birth, had felt that there was some spirit there … something which had the power to change people who entered.

Fanciful thinking, perhaps, but I would not go into that house with Dickon.

‘Not now,’ I said. ‘It’s getting too late.’

And turning our horses away we rode back to Eversleigh.

A groom was coming round by the house as we approached, and Dickon called to him to take our horses to the stables. Dickon leaped down before I could to help me. He took me in his arms and lifted me up as he had when I arrived. A gesture, I think, which was meant to be symbolic. He was strong. I was at his mercy.

‘Thank you,’ I said coolly. ‘Put me down.’

But for a few moments he held me, and I did not want to meet his eyes. I saw someone at a window looking down at us. Even as I looked up, whoever it was stepped back.

As Dickon put me on the ground I said: ‘Who is up there?’

‘Where?’ he asked idly.

‘That window … right at the top.’ I nodded in the direction and he looked up.

‘That would be old Grissel’s place.’

‘Old Grissel?’

‘One of the servants. Griselda. The boys call her Grissel. It fits.’

I went into the house, my thoughts full of Dickon and his implications so that I forgot about old Grissel until later.

I wanted to get to know something about Dickon’s sons and one morning, when I knew it was time for their break from lessons, I went up to the schoolroom.

The boys were seated at a table with Mr Raine their tutor drinking glasses of milk.

‘I hope I’m not intruding on lessons,’ I said.