Authors: Philippa Carr
‘But how did they get down there?’
‘They must have had some means.’
‘Like Jacob’s ladder.’
‘It may have been.’
‘How deep is it?’
‘Very deep, they say. I don’t think anyone has ever been down there.’
Then Sabrina did what she always did; she picked up a stone and threw it down the hole. She stood listening, entranced. The fact that there was no sound as it reached the bottom gave credence to the story that the pit was bottomless.
‘It goes right down and down to the centre of the earth,’ said Sabrina.
‘So be careful and promise me not to go too near.’
She nodded and skipped away.
The weeks passed peacefully and I believed that the incident of the cards had had a good effect on Sabrina. The only one who had been angry was Aimée and Sabrina did not care enough about her to want to upset her.
She spent a great deal of time with me and seemed to have lost some of her resentment towards Lance. I thought she was growing to like him. She thought Jean-Louis was a silly baby and Nanny Goswell sillier still to dote on him as she did. She was fond of Nanny Curlew, who was quite immune to her wiles, and Sabrina respected her for that.
That she was growing even closer to me there was no doubt. She learned her lessons with me and was bright and eager to learn. She did not want a governess and was anxious to show me that I could teach her far better than anyone else could. All she wanted was for me to be with her as much as possible; then she was happy.
There were only infrequent lapses now—little flashes of mischief such as shutting Jean-Louis in the pantry, whither she had lured him with promises of procuring some pigeon pie for him. When we were all frantically searching for him she revealed what she had done and we found Jean-Louis fast asleep on the floor, after having partaken too freely of pigeon pie.
‘He likes food so much,’ she said demurely, ‘that I thought it would be kind to shut him in with lots of it.’
‘He might have gorged himself sick,’ said Nanny Goswell indignantly.
‘Then that would have been a good lesson for him,’ said Sabrina severely.
‘It’s someone else that wants to learn a lesson,’ retorted Nanny Goswell.
Nanny Curlew said some punishment must be inflicted and Sabrina was sent to bed. I went up at that time when she should be going to sleep to find her reading a book.
‘I like being sent to bed,’ she said complacently.
I tried to explain how worried we had all been about Jean-Louis and she flung her arms about my neck and said she hadn’t meant to worry
me
—only old Aunt Aimée. ‘She ought to worry,’ she said. ‘She takes Lance away from you with those silly old cards.’
There was no doubt of her love for me; as for myself, she supplied that need in my nature for the child my marriage so far had failed to produce.
There was another occasion—a card party once more. We had dined and just as our guests were about to go into the card room, there was a sound on the stairs and there stood Sabrina. She had dressed herself in one of my more elaborate gowns which hung loose about her and trailed on the floor. That was not all; she had touched her cheeks with carmine, her face was thickly powdered and she had placed a patch on her chin. She was wearing my emerald necklace, brooch and bezoar ring.
‘Sabrina!’ I cried.
‘I thought I would like to join the card party,’ she said.
Lance roared with laughter. ‘Come along then, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘What will you play? We thought of faro for this evening.’
‘As you wish,’ said Sabrina languidly.
‘Where did you get those things you are wearing?’ I asked.
‘You know. They are yours.’
Nanny Curlew appeared on the stairs. ‘Oh, Miss Mischief,’ she muttered.
‘Take Sabrina up,’ I said. ‘She thought she would join us, but it is a little late for her.’
‘I’m not tired,’ said Sabrina eagerly.
Nanny Curlew had her firmly by the hand and was dragging her away.
‘What a charming creature,’ drawled one of the ladies.
‘She is Clarissa’s cousin,’ explained Lance. ‘She provides us with amusement. Now for the game. Shall we truly turn to faro tonight?’
When they were settled I went up to the nursery. Sabrina robbed of her finery and in her own nightdress looked subdued. I think that she thought for once that her little effort had failed.
I washed the cosmetics from her smooth young skin and I couldn’t help laughing when I thought of the figure she had cut.
She laughed with me.
‘You liked it, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘Did I look very funny?’
‘It was wrong of you to come down like that… but yes, you did look funny.’
‘Lance liked it,’ she said.
I could see that he was making headway in her affections and as he did so without making the slightest effort it said a lot for his charm.
Once again I disturbed a scene in the nursery and once again Aimée was there. The nannies were talking about last night’s incident.
‘There she was, the minx,’ Nanny Curlew was saying, ‘all fine feathers—patched and powdered. I never saw the like.’
Sabrina stood by, listening appreciatively.
‘And not only that,’ put in Jeanne. ‘She was in Milady’s best emeralds and that ring of hers. All sparkling and glittering…’
‘She must have looked a funny sight,’ said Nanny Goswell.
‘She looked ridiculous,’ said Aimée. This should be put a stop to. If I had my way…’
Sabrina surreptitiously put out her tongue and looked in Aimée’s direction.
‘All those jewels,’ mused Jeanne. ‘Worth a mint of money, they say. Why, you could buy a flower-shop in the heart of Paris for what they’re worth.’
Aimée said: ‘Ah, hello, Clarissa. We were talking about last night.’
‘Sabrina felt like dressing up,’ I said.
‘Where did she find that jewellery? You must be rather careless with it.’
‘Not usually. I was going to wear it last night but changed my mind at the last minute. It was in my jewel-box.’
‘On the dressing-table,’ piped up Sabrina. ‘I knew where to get it.’
Aimée lifted her shoulders in a gesture of helpless resignation. I said nothing.
I did not want to discuss Sabrina with Aimée so I turned to go and as she followed me out she said in a sibilant whisper: ‘Something will have to be done about that child. She’ll grow up into a… monster.’
I looked back, hoping Sabrina had not heard. She did not appear to have, she was listening to Jeanne, whose hands had gone to the Jean-Baptiste she wore under her blouse. She was murmuring: ‘All those fine jewels.
Mon Dieu,
she might have lost some of them. And there’s enough there to buy a flower-shop in the heart of Paris.’
A few months had passed and the summer was nearly over. It was September and the leaves were turning to bronze, but most of them were still on the trees and it was a pleasure to walk through the woods. When I came in I was thinking that very soon we should be leaving the country for London, for when the season started that was where Lance wanted to be. He would find some excuse for returning there and as the management of the country estates was in good hands he could do this with ease.
There were card parties in the country but there were even more opportunities for gambling for large stakes in London. He liked to go to the clubs and play, and it was in London that he had his circle of reckless friends.
I was determined to make the most of the days while they were still warm and I could ride or walk through those lovely leafy lanes and watch the coming of autumn, with its mists and fruits and silvery cobwebs which suddenly seemed to be draped everywhere.
I remember distinctly coming in from my ride with Sabrina. She was quite a good little horsewoman now. Gone was the leading rein and she had discarded her pony for a small mare which Lance had given her. She loved the mare dearly and was growing more and more fond of Lance. She liked his indifference to her waywardness and I think she was a little fascinated by his handsome looks and elegant way of dressing.
‘He’s my cousin,’ she said once, with a certain satisfaction. ‘Of course not a real one—only because you’re married to him.’
Sabrina found it difficult to be indifferent to anyone. It seemed that for her there could only be fierce loves and fiercer hates. I was very glad that Lance was beginning to be included in the former.
So we came in that day little suspecting that anything unusual had happened. There was a dinner party that night and I went to my room to prepare myself. Jeanne was usually there laying out my things, but on this day she was absent, and nothing had been prepared.
I rang the bell and one of the servants came to answer my call.
‘Will you please find Jeanne and tell her that I am waiting,’ I said.
She went off in search of her.
That in itself was strange, for at such times Jeanne always assumed an air of importance and bustled about my room long before it was time for me to dress.
Jeanne did not come. In due course the servant appeared, rather breathless and concerned.
‘Please, Milady, I can’t find Jeanne. She don’t seem to be in the house.’
This was growing very strange. Had she gone out somewhere and forgotten the time? That must be the explanation. She never went very far. Sometimes she would take a walk in the woods in order to gather herbs, for she liked to make a few medicinal and cosmetic concoctions and was fond of remarking that everything of worth came out of the earth. It was an old saying which had caught her fancy.
At any moment I expected her to come bursting in breathlessly.
But no such thing happened. The minutes ticked away and still Jeanne did not return.
I had decided to wear a dress of cream-coloured brocade, thinking that my emeralds would go well with it. I went to the cupboard and brought out the dress. Then I went to my jewel-case. To my consternation it was empty. The emerald necklace and brooch had gone, together with the bezoar ring.
This was very strange. I could not understand it, and now I was beginning to feel alarmed.
I went to Jeanne’s room. There was an emptiness there. The bed was neatly made but there was no sign of Jeanne. I went to the cupboard. It was empty. Her best black gown which she liked to put on in the evenings was gone. There was nothing at all there. I opened the drawers in the chest near the window. Every one of them was empty.
Jeanne had gone!
It was impossible. There must be some explanation. As if she would have gone away like that! As if she would disappear without telling me! But where was she?
I began to look frantically around for a note. There was none.
I went back to my room and pulled the bell-rope. The little maid appeared again.
I said firmly; ‘Find Jeanne. Let everyone look for her. Her bedroom is empty. Her clothes have gone.’
The maid stared at me open-mouthed.
‘We must find her,’ I said.
But we could not find Jeanne. She was not in the house, no one had seen her go out, yet everything she possessed had gone.
I had to dress. The party must go on, however disturbed I was.
I put away the brocade dress. I did not want to look into that empty jewel-case. There must be some explanation about the disappearance of my jewels. There was one solution, but I refused to believe it although the logical sequence was beginning to force itself into my mind.
I put on a gown of scarlet, rather flamboyant, but as Lance had assured me, in excellent taste… a dress which required no embellishment.
I was desperately uneasy. I was worried. I was frantic. I was fond of Jeanne—more fond than I had realized. I would not believe what, on the face of it, was the only logical answer.
Aimée came in while I was dressing. She was quivering with excitement; her eyes looked luminous and unnaturally large. There was a high colour in her cheeks.
‘Where is Jeanne?’ she asked. ‘I wanted to tell her… Isn’t she here?’
‘I can’t find her. I think she must have been called away.’
‘Called away! Who would call her away, and would she go without telling you?’
‘I can’t understand it, Aimée. I am very worried.’
‘Disappeared,’ murmured Aimée. ‘It can’t be. She was comfortable here. Why should she go away?’
I shook my head, and a sharp look came into Aimée’s eyes. ‘Is… is anything missing?’ she asked.
I was silent. I did not want to tell her about the jewellery. I should have to do so in time… but not yet. I kept telling myself that Jeanne would be back. There must be a simple explanation of her disappearance.
‘Because if there is…’ went on Aimée.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? She was always talking about a flower-shop in Paris. That was her great aim in life.’
‘You can’t think that Jeanne… Oh, it’s quite impossible. She has been with me so long! She looked after me in Paris
‘She always longed to be back there. That I know. That flower-shop in Paris was what she dreamed of. One of her own. It’s what she always wanted.’
‘As if she would go without telling me! I don’t believe she would ever have gone. She was so happy to have her home with us.’
‘She was by no means sentimental. Hard as nails, I’d say. That’s how they are brought up in the streets of Paris.
‘She was not hard. She was so good to me when I needed help.’
Aimée nodded. ‘Well, who knows? Perhaps she’ll come back. Has she taken some of her clothes with her?’
‘All,’ I said.
‘Oh dear. Then it really seems…’
Lance came in while we were talking.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘Everyone seems to be whispering together.’
I said: ‘Jeanne has disappeared.’
‘Disappeared? How? When?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know. She’s gone—that’s all.’
‘Jeanne! I can’t believe it.’
I nodded. ‘It seems to be true.’
‘I really think we ought to see if anything is missing,’ said Aimée.
‘I don’t believe Jeanne would ever take anything that did not belong to her,’ I began.
‘You wouldn’t believe she’d go off without saying a word,’ retorted Aimée. ‘I think you ought to look round and see what valuables are missing. Jewels, most likely, as they would be easy to carry.’