Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

‘Come in,’ called Jonathan.

Mr Raine assured me that this was the morning break and that the boys would not resume lessons for another fifteen minutes.

‘Then may I sit down and talk. I want to get to know you.’

Jonathan grinned at me; David looked interested.

‘I have a boy of my own in France,’ I said. ‘He must be about three years younger than you.’

‘Three years!’ said Jonathan with a look of contempt.

‘You were three years younger once,’ David reminded him.

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘Three years to be precise,’ said Mr Raine. ‘Now, boys, stop arguing and be civil to Madame de Tourville.’

‘You’re French,’ said Jonathan, who clearly said the first thing that came into his mind.

‘She knows that and doesn’t want you to tell her,’ added David, who seemed to have an irresistible urge to irritate his brother at every turn.

‘I am French,’ I explained, ‘because my father and my husband are. But I used to live here for a while before I went to France.’

‘That was years ago.’

‘Before you were born.’

They looked at me in wonder.

‘They are still too young to grasp the fact that there was a world here before they joined it,’ said Mr Raine.

‘I also have a little girl. She is very young … little more than a baby.’

They dismissed her as of no interest.

‘What is your boy’s name?’ asked Jonathan.

‘Charles. We call him Charlot.’

‘That’s a funny name,’ commented Jonathan.

‘It’s French, silly,’ said David. ‘Why didn’t you bring them with you?’

‘We had to come quickly and my daughter is too young to travel.’

‘Charlot could have come.’

‘Yes, I suppose he could.’

‘I wish he had,’ said Jonathan. ‘I’d have shown him my falcon. I’m teaching him. Jem Logger is showing me.’

‘Jonathan spends a great deal of time in the stables with his dogs and horses,’ said Mr Raine. ‘And now we have a falcon. He is, I am afraid, far more interested in them than he is in literature and mathematics.’

David smirked and Jonathan shrugged his shoulders.

‘Does Charlot have a tutor?’ asked David.

‘Not yet. He only has a nursery governess at the moment.’

‘Like Grissel?’ asked David and the boys looked at each other and laughed.

‘Grissel?’ I said. ‘Now, I believe I saw her.’

‘She doesn’t come out much.’

‘But she is your nurse.’

Jonathan said scornfully: ‘We don’t have a nurse. We’re too old.’

‘Then Grissel … ’

‘She came with the boys’ mother,’ explained Mr Raine. ‘She keeps herself very much apart, but continues to stay here. She is…. rather strange.’

The boys exchanged glances and smiled. The subject of Grissel seemed the only one they could agree about.

‘She walks in her sleep,’ said David.

Jonathan made claws of his fingers and put on an expression of malevolence at which David laughed.

Mr Raine changed the subject and showed me some of the boys’ work. Jonathan had a talent for sketching which rather surprised me. He had done some pictures of his dogs and horses which showed that he had a really sensitive touch. I admired them, which pleased him very much.

‘Jonathan’s one talent in the schoolroom,’ said Mr Raine. ‘But he is a great sportsman. David, of course, has sharp wits. He’s the academic.’

Both boys looked very pleased with themselves and it occurred to me that Mr Raine did not have a very easy time.

I looked at their work and listened attentively, but I would rather have heard more about Grissel.

I asked Sabrina.

‘Oh, Grissel is a silly old woman,’ she said. ‘I wish she would go, but where would she go to? She came with Isabel. She had been her nurse and you know how fanatical these old nurses can be about their charges. When Isabel died I think it turned her head slightly. Sometimes she seems to believe that Isabel is still here. It is very disconcerting but what can we do? We can’t ask her to go. She is too old to take another post.’

‘I know how it is with these nannies and have often thought how sad it must be for them when their children grow up and no longer need them. Then they go on to the next … if they are young enough and it all starts again.’

‘Unfortunately poor Griselda is not young enough. Oh, she is all right here. She has her two little rooms there in the east wing. Her food is taken in to her and we forget her for the most part. The only trouble is that she seems to have a most extraordinary attitude towards the twins. She dotes on Jonathan and seems to dislike David. It is odd. David doesn’t care. They both used to play tricks on her until that was stopped. But she is quiet most of the time.’

‘I saw her looking out of one of the windows when I was coming in with Dickon.’

‘Oh yes. She watches Dickon all the time. He laughs at it and takes no notice. You know how he is. Your grandmother didn’t like it very much. She said it was uncanny. But it is just Griselda’s way.’

I didn’t think much more about Griselda until a few days later when I came into the house and saw what I can only describe as a shape looking over the banisters. It was there and gone in a flash so that I wondered whether I had imagined I saw something. It was nothing much, just one of those occurrences which, for some reason, send a shiver down one’s spine.

Then I became aware of that figure at the window watching me when I came in. I saw her once or twice before it occurred to me that she had some special interest in me.

A week had passed and we were still at Eversleigh. My mother wanted to get back but every time she suggested leaving there were protests and she was persuaded to wait another week before making plans for departure.

I was not sorry. Eversleigh was beginning to cast its spell on me—but perhaps that was Dickon. It was all very well for me to tell myself that he was making no impression on me and that I saw him clearly for what he was. Each day I awoke with a sense of excitement and it was all due to the fact that I knew I was going to be with Dickon.

Nothing had changed since those early days—except of course that I looked at him differently. I was no longer the wide-eyed innocent child. I saw him as he was, a buccaneering adventurer, determined to get the most out of life, completely self-centred, and a man whose own interests would always come first. The frightening thing was that it didn’t make any difference. I still wanted to be with him; the hours were dull when he was not there, although we spent most of the time in verbal conflict that was more exciting than the most friendly conversation with anyone else.

Our afternoon ride had become a ritual now. All the time he was trying to charm me, to lull my suspicions and to give him the opportunity of seducing me. So far I had resisted his attentions and I intended to go on doing so.

When we rode past Enderby, he said, ‘Why don’t you come and have a look over the house?’

‘Whatever for? I have no intention of buying a house so why should I want to look over it?’

‘Because it’s interesting. It is a house with a history. It’s haunted, you know, by all the ghosts of the past … those who have lived such evil lives that they can’t rest.’

‘I expect it is very dirty.’

‘Cobwebs. Dark shadows. Strange shapes looming up. I’d be there to protect you, Lottie.’

‘I would need no protection from cobwebs and shadows.’

‘Ah, but what about the ghosts?’

‘I don’t think I have anything to fear from them either. Why should they be interested in me?’

‘They are interested in any who brave their domains. But I see you are afraid.’

‘I am not afraid.’

He looked at me slyly. ‘Not of the house … but of me.’

‘Afraid of you Dickon? In Heaven’s name, why?’

‘Afraid of giving me what I want and what you so much want to give.’

‘What’s that? You have Eversleigh, you know.’

‘Yourself,’ he said. ‘Lottie, you and I were made for each other.’

‘By whom?’

‘Fate.’

‘Then Fate made a very poor job of it. I assure you I was certainly not made for you … nor you for me. You were made for Eversleigh perhaps. That’s a different matter.’

‘You do go on about Eversleigh. You attach too much importance to it.’

‘No. It was you who did that.’

‘Thy tongue is sharp as the serpent’s. Did someone say that? If they didn’t they ought to have done. In any case I’m saying it now.’

‘And I say beware of serpents.’

‘Come. Admit the truth. You are afraid to step inside Enderby with me.’

‘I assure you I am not.’

‘Back up your assurance with words.’

On an impulse I dismounted. He was laughing as he tethered our horses to the post. He took my hand as we advanced towards the house.

‘The window with the broken latch is round there. It is quite easy to get in. Someone wanted to look at it a few weeks ago and I showed him the way in. I wonder if he made an offer for the place.’

He had found the window, opened it, looked inside and helped me in. We were in the hall, at the end of which was a door. It was open and we went through it into a large stone-floored kitchen. The spits were still there. We examined the great fireplace with its fire-dogs and cauldrons. There were layers of dust on everything. I found it quite fascinating and prowled about opening cupboards and exploring.

We must have been there for about five minutes before we went back to the hall. Above us was the minstrels’ gallery.

Dickon put his fingers to his lips. ‘The gallery is the most haunted spot. Let’s explore it.’

He took my hand and I was glad of the contact as the eeriness of the house began to wrap itself about me. I could well believe that at night the ghosts came to relive their tragic lives once more in such a house.

Our footsteps rang out in silence.

‘Cold, isn’t it?’ said Dickon. ‘Are you just a little scared, Lottie?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You look a little.’ He put his arm about me. ‘There. That’s better.’ We mounted the stairs. Some of the furniture remained, though most of it had been taken away.

‘Let’s go into the gallery. Defy the ghosts. Are you game?’

‘Of course.’

‘Come then.’ We mounted the staircase and went into the gallery; we leaned over the balcony and looked down on the hall.

‘Imagine it full of people … people dancing … long-dead people … ’

‘Dickon, you know you don’t really believe in ghosts.’

‘Not when I’m outside. In here … can you feel the malevolent influence?’

I did not answer. There was certainly something strange about the place. It was uncanny, but I had the feeling that the house was waiting for my answer.

‘Let’s defy the dead,’ said Dickon. ‘Let’s show them that at least we are alive.’

He put his arms about me.

‘Don’t do that, Dickon.’

His answer was to laugh. ‘Dear Lottie, do you think I am going to let you go now that I have you again?’

I tried to hold him off. My strength, I knew, was puny against his. He would not dare to force himself on me. He would have to be careful … even he. I was no village girl to be lightly raped and no questions asked. And that was not Dickon’s way. He was too sure of his charms and he wanted to be gratefully accepted; he would not want reluctance … not from me in any case.

‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘it was always you. Never anyone else. Nor was it for you. You never forgot me any more than I forgot you. We’re together at last. Let’s take what we’ve got. Lottie … please.’

He held me fast now and I felt myself slipping away in some sort of ecstasy. I was a child again. Dickon was my lover. This was how it was always meant to be.

I was not fighting any more. I heard him laugh triumphantly.

‘No,’ I said. ‘No.’ But I did not make any other protest and Dickon would know that surrender was close.

But … just then, I heard a movement, the sound of a footstep overhead—and I was immediately brought back to sanity.

I said: ‘Someone is here … in the house.’

‘No,’ said Dickon.

‘Listen.’

There it was again. The definite sound of a footstep.

‘Come on. We’ll see who it is,’ said Dickon. He started out of the gallery and up the staircase. I followed.

We were in a corridor. There were many doors there. Dickon threw open one of them. I followed him into a room. There was no one there. We went into another room. There were a few pieces of furniture in this one and it took us a little time to make sure there was no one hiding there. And as he pulled back the tattered brocade curtains about a four-poster bed we heard the movement again. This time it was downstairs. There had been someone in the house, and whoever it was had eluded us, for he or she must at this moment be climbing through the window by which he had come in.

We rushed down. Soon we were through the window and out among the overgrown shrubs. I felt overwhelmingly grateful to whoever it was who had saved me from Dickon and myself.

We rode silently back to the house. Dickon was clearly disappointed but not utterly dismayed. I realized he had high hopes for the future. I felt a certain elation. Never again, I promised myself.

Something in the house had saved me. It had sounded like human footsteps, but I wondered whether it was some ghost from the past. There was that ancestress of mine, Carlotta. She had had connections with the house at some time; she had actually owned it.

I had almost convinced myself that it was Carlotta returned from the dead who had saved me, and this was an indication of the state of mind into which I was falling. I had always regarded myself as a practical woman. The French are notoriously practical; and I was half French. And yet sometimes I felt as though since I had come to England I was being drawn into a web from which I would eventually be unable to escape.

It was an absurd feeling, but I had to admit that it was there.

The sensation came to me that I was being watched. When I returned to the house, if I glanced up to what I knew to be Griselda’s windows there would be a hasty movement. Someone was there looking down on me and dodging back hoping not be seen. I could put that down to an old woman’s curiosity and according to Sabrina she was a little mad in any case; but it was more than that. Sometimes I felt I was watched from the banisters, from the corridors, and sometimes I hurried to the spot where I thought I had seen or heard a movement and there was nothing there. An old woman could certainly not have been agile enough to get out of Enderby and climb through the window.

My grandmother’s health had improved since we had come and my mother said it was time we thought of going home. Sabrina and my grandmother were sad at the prospect.

‘It has been so wonderful to see you,’ said Sabrina. ‘It has meant so much to us all. It has kept Dickon with us. It is a long time since he has been at Eversleigh for such a stretch.’

I said that our husbands would be wondering why we did not return and my mother added that they had only agreed that we should come because the visit was to be a short one.

I was determined to see Griselda before I left, and one afternoon I made my way to that part of the house where I knew her rooms to be.

It was very quiet and lonely as I ascended the short narrow staircase and came to a corridor. I had judged it from where I knew the window to be from the shadowy watcher who had looked down on me.

I found a door and knocked. There was no answer, so I went to the next and knocked again.

There was still no answer but I sensed that someone was on the other side of the door.

‘Please may I come in?’ I said.

The door opened suddenly. An old woman was standing there. The grey hair escaped from under a cap; her face was pale and her deep-set eyes wide with the whites visible all round the pupil which gave her an expression of staring. She was dressed in a gown of sprigged muslin, high-necked and tight-bodiced. She was very slight and thin.

‘Are you Griselda?’ I asked.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

‘I wanted to meet you. I am going soon, and I did want to make the acquaintance of everyone in the house before I do.’

‘I know who you are,’ she said, as though the knowledge gave her little pleasure.

‘I am Madame de Tourville. I lived here once.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘before my lady came here. You were here then.’

‘May I come in and chat for a moment?’

Rather ungraciously she stepped back and I entered the room. I was amazed to see Jonathan rise from one of the chairs.

‘Oh, hello,’ he said.

‘Jonathan!’ I cried.

‘Jonathan is a good boy,’ said Griselda; and to him: ‘Madame de Tourville thinks she should see everybody so she called on me.’

‘Oh,’ said Jonathan. ‘Can I go now?’

‘Yes, do,’ she said. ‘And come back tomorrow.’

She caught him and kissed him with emotion. He wriggled a little in her embrace and gave me an apologetic look as though to excuse himself for having been involved in such a demonstration.

As Jonathan went away, Griselda said: ‘He is a good boy. He looks after me and my wants.’

‘You never mingle with the family,’ I said.

‘I was the nurse. I came with my lady. I would to God we never had.’

‘You mean the lady Isabel.’

‘His wife. The mother of young Jonathan.’

‘And David,’ I added.

She was silent and her mouth hardened; her eyes looked wider and consequently more wild.

‘I’ve seen you,’ she said almost accusingly. ‘I’ve seen you … with him.’

I glanced towards the window. ‘I think I have seen you up there … from time to time.’

‘I know what goes on,’ she said.

‘Oh, do you?’

‘With him,’ she added.

‘Oh?’

‘I’ll never forgive him. He killed her, you know.’

‘Killed! Who killed whom?’

‘He did. The master. He killed my little flower.’ Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth quivered. She clenched her hands and I thought she looked quite mad.

I said gently: ‘I don’t think that is true. Tell me about Isabel.’

Her face changed so suddenly that it was startling to watch her. ‘She was my baby from the first. I had had others but there was something about little Isabel. An only child, you see. Her mother died … died giving birth to her just as …Well, there she was, my baby. And him, her father, he was a good man. Never much there. Too important. Very rich. Always doing something …. But when he was there he loved his little daughter. But really she was mine. He never tried to interfere. He’d always say, “You know what’s best for our little girl, Griselda.” A good man. He died. The good die and the evil flourish.’

‘I can see that you loved Isabel very much.’

She said angrily: ‘There should never have been this marriage. Wouldn’t have been if it had been left to me. It was the one thing I can’t forgive him for. He just had the notion that girls ought to marry and that Isabel would be all right just as others were. He didn’t know my little girl like I did. She was frightened … really frightened. She used to come to me and sob her heart out. There wasn’t anything I could do … though I would have died for her. So she was married, my poor little angel. She said, “You’ll come with me, Griselda,” and I said, “Wild horses wouldn’t drag me away from you, my love.”’

I said: ‘I understand how you feel. You loved her dearly just as a mother loves her child. I know. I have children of my own.’

‘And I had to see her brought here … to this house with him. He didn’t care for her. What he cared for was what she brought him.’

I was silent. I could agree with Griselda on that.

‘Then it started. She was terrified. You see, she had got to get this son. Men … they all want children … but it would be different, eh, if they had the bearing of them. She was frightened when she knew she’d conceived … and, then before three months had gone she had lost it. The second was even worse. That went on for six months. There was another after that. That was her life. That was all she meant to him—except of course the money. And when her father died he got that too. Then he was ready to be rid of her.’

‘You said he killed her.’

‘He did. They could have saved her … but that would have meant losing the boys. He wouldn’t have it. He wanted the boys. That was it. He got them … and it cost her her life.’

‘You mean there was a choice?’

She nodded. ‘I was mad with sorrow. I was there with her. She would have me and even he did not try to stop that. He murdered her, just as sure as you’re sitting there, Madame. And now he has his eyes on you. What does he want from you, do you think?’

‘Griselda,’ I told her, ‘I am a married woman. I have a husband and children in France and I intend to go back to them shortly.’

She moved close to me and lifted her face to mine; her eyes seemed luminous in her wrinkled face. ‘He has plans for you. Don’t forget it. He’s one who won’t see his plans go awry.’

‘I make my own plans,’ I said.

‘You’re with him all the time. I know him. I know his way with women. Even Isabel …’

‘You know nothing about me, Griselda. Tell me more about Isabel.’

‘What more is there to tell? She was happy with me. She came here and was murdered.’

‘Do stop talking about murder. I know she died giving birth to the twins. You’re very fond of them, aren’t you?’

‘David killed her,’ she said.

‘David!’

‘It was both of them. Him forcing that on her … using her … my little Isabel, just to bear children when she wasn’t capable of it. Her mother had died giving birth to her. It was a weakness in the family. She should never have been forced to try it. Then there was David. He was born two hours after Jonathan. She might have been saved. But he had to have David, you see. He wanted two sons … just in case something happened to one of them. Between them they murdered her … him and David.’

‘Griselda, at least you shouldn’t blame David. A newly-born child! Isn’t that rather foolish of you?’

‘Whenever I look at him, I say to myself: It was you … It was your life or hers. They had Jonathan. That should have been enough.’

‘Griselda, what proof have you of this?’

Her wild eyes searched my face and she did not answer my question. She said: ‘He never married again. He’s got his two sons. That leaves him free for his women. He’s brought them here sometimes. I’ve seen them. I used to wonder whether there’d be anyone set up in Isabel’s place.’

‘Isn’t it time to forget the past, Griselda?’

‘Forget Isabel? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Why did you watch me?’

‘I watch all of them.’

‘You mean … ’

She leaned towards me again and said: ‘His women.’

‘I am not one of them.’

She smiled secretly. I remembered that moment in the minstrels’ gallery at Enderby and was ashamed.

I said: ‘Do you have helpers in your watching?’

‘I can’t get about,’ she said. ‘It’s my rheumatics. Had them for a long time. Makes getting about very hard.’

‘Do you see a good deal of Jonathan?’

She nodded, smiling.

‘And David?’

‘I don’t have him here. He was never what his brother was.’

‘So Jonathan comes on his own. What do you talk about?’

‘His mother. The past.’

‘Is it wise to talk about that to a child?’

‘It’s truth. All children should be taught truth. It says so in the Holy Book.’

‘Do you let Jonathan … do things for you?’

‘He wants to,’ she said. ‘He comes in all excitement. “What’s the scheme for today, Grissel?” he says … the little monkey.’

‘So he follows his father. He … spies on him?’

‘We all want to know if the master is going to marry again. It would make a difference to us all.’

‘As a nurse, don’t you think it is wrong to involve a child in these things?’

‘Jonathan’s not a child. He was born a man … like his father. I know much of what goes on. I learned through Isabel. I saw him through her eyes. Have a care, Madame. No one is safe from him. Remember he murdered my Isabel.’

I had a great desire to get away from the scrutiny of those mad eyes. The room seemed to be stifling me. I felt I was shut in with a crazy woman. She had accused Dickon of murder because his wife died giving birth to twins. She was teaching Jonathan to spy for her. The idea of that boy following us to Enderby … lying in wait there to spy on us, revolted me.

I wondered whether I should tell Sabrina what I had discovered. I felt someone should know, and yet who? My grandmother was not in a fit state to cope with the situation. Sabrina? My mother? Dickon?

I did not feel I could confide what I had discovered to anyone in this house. Then I thought: What harm can the old woman do with her spying? To Jonathan it was just a game. To spy on his father and report to Griselda! There was something decidedly unhealthy about that. But there was something unhealthy about the entire matter.

While I turned all this over in my mind, preparations for our departure went on apace and a few days after my meeting with Griselda, my mother and I were on our way to the coast.