Authors: Philippa Carr
It was wonderful to see the radiance of Damaris with her own child at last. She looked pale, but happiness had set a glow upon her and her delicacy could not hide her great satisfaction. I had never seen Jeremy look so pleased with life since the early days of his marriage. I felt a warm glow of happiness myself and, perhaps above all… relief. I no longer felt the need to care for them, to repay them all the time for what they had done for me. Fate had done that for me.
After the ceremony we all went back to Eversleigh Court, where such family gatherings were always held.
I heard Arabella warning Carleton: ‘Let’s keep the Jacobites out of this for once.’
‘My dear wife,’ replied Carleton, ‘you can’t keep out what is creeping up like a menacing cloud over you… threatening to ruin us all.’
‘It’s no use,’ groaned Arabella. ‘I can’t part him from his Jacobites.’
It was a very happy occasion. The baby was good throughout. Indeed, Sabrina was a contented baby and cried only when suffering from some discomfort or if she wanted food, so it was easy to placate her. She was wearing the beautiful Eversleigh christening robes of white satin and Brussels lace, the same robe which so many babies had worn before her and which, after this ceremony, would be laundered and put away for the next christening. I wondered whose that would be. My own child’s, perhaps. I was twelve years old. In another four or even perhaps three years… I could be married.
My thoughts were wandering. They would try to find a husband for me. Oh no! I would not have that. I should choose my husband.
When we arrived back at Enderby the baby was taken by Jeanne to the nursery and Damaris said she would lie down and asked me to go up with her as there was something she wanted to say to me.
When we were in her room she looked at me very seriously and said: ‘There is something you will have to know, Clarissa, and now that you are proposing to visit your Hessenfield relations I and your Uncle Jeremy think it is time to tell you. Your mother was a wealthy woman. You are her heiress. We did not tell you this before but we had many consultations in the family and we came to the conclusion that it is not good for young people to know they have money.’
I was astounded. I was rich. It was something which had never occurred to me.
‘Yes,’ went on Damaris, ‘your mother inherited money through her father’s family. It has accumulated over the years as money does. When you are eighteen years of age it will come to you. We had planned to tell you on your seventeenth birthday but in view of what has happened we thought it best that you should know now.’
‘Am I… very rich?’
Damaris looked uneasy. ‘It is difficult to know exactly how much there is for you to inherit. It will be in bonds and suchlike. Your great-uncle was a very good business man and a cautious one. He had arranged for everything to be well taken care of. There is something else, too. When your kinsman from the North came here he told us that your father had left you money. A great deal of this was in France, for he had managed to shift some of his assets over there when he was resident at the Court of Saint Germain and in Paris. The fact is that you are a considerable heiress.’
‘How strange!’ I said. ‘I don’t feel any different.’
‘My dear child, your grandmother and I have been a little worried. You see, you are going away from us, and there are fortune-hunters… You are so young as yet. But your mother, when she was about your age, was deceived by an adventurer. We thought you should know of this. Dear Clarissa, don’t look so alarmed. It would be considered good news by most people, you know.’
‘I’m surprised really. Fancy me… an heiress!’
Damaris put her arms round me and kissed me tenderly. ‘It won’t make any difference, will it… not to us?’
‘How could it?’ I asked, bewildered.
‘Well, now you know. You will be going away very soon. We shall have to start thinking about that. Clarissa, it was good of you to stay until Sabrina was born.’
‘I had to. I should have been so desperately worried if I hadn’t been with you.’
She looked at me earnestly and then she said: ‘Will you promise me something?’
‘Of course… if I can.’
‘If anything should happen to me and Jeremy… would you look after Sabrina?’
‘Anything happen? What do you mean?’
‘We live in a dangerous world. People are killed on the roads. I heard only yesterday of a family who were travelling in their coach and were set on by footpads. There was resistance and the wife was shot. There were Harriet and Gregory too… It has set me thinking. If anything should happen to us while Sabrina needs to be cared for… would you look after her… for me?’
‘Oh, dearest Aunt Damaris, of course I would.’ I felt suddenly uplifted. For the first time since I arrived in England I had been made to feel I was not a child. I was someone capable of accepting responsibility and they realized it.
Was that what being an heiress meant?
My Great-Uncle Carl, of whom I had seen very little, had come home. He had been abroad fighting during the war and had distinguished himself in the service of the Duke of Marlborough and won honours at Blenheim, Oudenarde and Malplaquet. He was something of a hero and Great-Grandfather Carleton was clearly very proud of him.
I heard my Grandmother Priscilla say to Damaris: ‘Your grandfather always loved Carl best. I can tell you that when I was a young girl I always took second place. No, not even that. He hardly noticed my existence.’
‘He does now,’ said Damaris, and Priscilla just looked thoughtful.
So here was Uncle Carl—bronzed and handsome, a hero returned from the wars. He must have been in his mid-forties; he was four years or so younger than Priscilla. He was still in the army, of course, and had a great deal to think about.
He did not come alone but brought with him Sir Lance Clavering, who was much younger than he was and who had also returned from the war. Uncle Carl had been his commanding officer and clearly had some respect for him. Lance Clavering was, according to Arabella, nothing more than a boy. I suppose he seemed so to her but he was quite mature to me. He was in fact twenty years old, nearly eight years older than I was and that made him seem very grown up. I thought him outstandingly handsome. His clothes were exquisite. He was not in uniform like Uncle Carl because he had merely been a soldier during the war. Uncle Carl was General Eversleigh, and a regular soldier.
But it was Lance who held my attention. His fresh complexion was accentuated by the whiteness of his Ramillies wig which was drawn back from his brow and puffed out full over the ears. At the back it was made into a plait which was tied at the bottom and at the nape of his neck with black satin bows. The cuffs of his elegantly cut full-skirted coat were trimmed with exquisite lace; this coat came down to his knees so that his breeches were not visible but I could glimpse a beautifully embroidered waistcoat. His stockings were white and his black shoes had silver buckles. On one of the gold buttons on his coat hung a cane. I had never seen such a picture of elegance and I was greatly impressed.
I was presented to him by my Great-Uncle Carl who seemed fond of him in an amused sort of way. He was to stay with us for a while, I learned, until he went with Carl to York. Their business there was secret because I was warned not to ask anything about it.
They both stayed at Eversleigh Court.
At Enderby we discussed Lance at length. Jeremy thought him a fop, but Damaris was inclined to be more tolerant.
‘Uncle Carl seems to think something of him,’ she said. ‘After all, he’s travelling to York with him on what appears to be important business.’
‘I can’t understand that,’ muttered Jeremy.
‘He is only a young man,’ Damaris pointed out. ‘He must have been only a boy when he joined the army. That shows some strength of character surely when he might have been at home having a good time in London. I believe he comes of a rich family.’
Jeremy grunted. Of course he would not like Lance Clavering. If ever two men were the exact opposites these two were. Lance was in constant good humour. He seemed to find life a great joke. He was extremely gallant and expressed interest in whatever interested other people. He even discussed the making of country wines with Priscilla; with Damaris he talked of dogs and horses, and with the men he discussed the battles of the war with a knowledge that almost equalled that of Great-Uncle Carl himself. Even Great-Grandfather Carleton was amused by him. Lance and I rode together on one or two occasions and he made a great effort to discover what interested me and then talked about it with such enthusiasm that one would have believed the subject was the one nearest his heart. He had charm, grace, elegance and above all that overwhelming desire to please.
‘He is a great asset to any gathering,’ was Arabella’s comment.
Jeanne said: ‘Oh, but what a pretty gentleman!’ And when I told him what she had said he was not in the least offended. He burst out laughing and said he must make sure to remain pretty for Jeanne.
His imperturbable good humour was catching and there was a great deal of laughter when he was present. Life seemed a joke to him. When the men went hunting, one of our neighbours—a ‘country boor’, Carleton called him—made a point of splashing through a muddy stream so that the dirty water spattered Lance’s pearl-grey riding habit. Lance brushed it aside, I heard, with nonchalance and made the perpetrator of the so-called joke more uncomfortable than he was.
He was always wagering something. It was a favourite expression of his: ‘I’ll wager this…’ or ‘I’ll wager that…’
One day when we were all at Eversleigh Court round the dinner table the talk turned to the arrival of the new King and Great-Grandfather Carleton was saying that it was a pity we had to call on a German to give us the sort of rule we wanted.
All the family were staunchly Protestant. I was the only one who wavered and that was solely because Hessenfield had been a Jacobite. But I did realize that I knew very little about the controversy and I had heard so much at Eversleigh about the errors of Catholicism that I was ready to accept the fact that the Protestant succession was best for the country.
‘But even with our staunch Protestants the new King is not popular,’ said Arabella.
‘Anne called him the German-Boor, and it is a fitting description,’ said Great-Uncle Carl.
‘But we don’t want the Jacobites back,’ cried Carleton. ‘And George seems the only alternative.’
‘At least he is in the line of succession,’ put in Arabella. ‘I remember hearing about his grandmother… oh, long ago, when I was a girl. She was the sister of King Charles who lost his head—and a very beautiful Princess, they said. She married the Elector Palatine. Sophia was her daughter and as George was Sophia’s son he has a claim to the throne.’
‘The Jacks wouldn’t say that while we have the son of James panting to take the crown,’ said Lance, laughing as though it were a great joke. ‘They’ll never put him back. The people don’t want it. But they’ll have a good try.’
Uncle Carl flashed a look at him which might have been a warning.
Lance tapped the side of his nose exaggeratedly to show that the point was taken and he was still smiling as he went on: ‘Old George is not so bad, I hear. He’s a good friend… to his friends, and he’s quick to forget an injury. He’s good-tempered, and as mean as a man can be. He regrets spending a groat. He’s completely ignorant of literature and art and doesn’t want to be otherwise. ‘Boetry?’ Lance made what I guessed to be a good imitation of a German accent. ‘Boetry… vat ist not vor shentelmans.’ But of course his English is not nearly as clear as that. Poor old George, I believe he did not want to come here one little bit.’
‘People won’t like a German,’ said Arabella.
‘They’ll get used to him,’ added Priscilla.
‘I believe people get used to anything in time,’ went on Lance, ‘even Mesdemoiselles Kielmansegge and Schulemberg.’
‘And who are they?’ I asked.
‘Do have some more of this roast beef,’ cut in Priscilla.
‘We thought the sloe gin was particularly good this year,’ added Arabella.
This was another instance of their protection. I knew at once that there was something shocking to be learned about the ladies Lance had mentioned and that I was being shielded once more, so I repeated, looking directly at Lance: ‘Who are they?’
‘They are the King’s mistresses,’ he answered, smiling at me.
‘Clarissa is… er…’ began Damaris, blushing a little.
‘The lady Clarissa is more worldly than you give her credit for,’ said Lance, and I think he won my heart at that moment. He turned to me and went on: ‘They are German ladies… one incredibly fat, the other amazingly lean. You see, his Germanic Majesty likes variety. They speak very little English, like himself, and they are two of the most unattractive women in Europe. It is considered something of a joke that they should be the first German imports to show the country.’
‘It all sounds a bit of a joke,’ I said.
‘It is. I always thought so much in life is. Do you agree?’
So we bantered and talked and the family watched and I really believe that at last they realized I was not the baby they had been imagining I was. Lance had made them see that I was almost grown up, and I loved him for that.
It transpired that my Great-Uncle Carl and Lance would shortly be leaving for York. They were on some mission for the army.
Damaris said: ‘Clarissa is going north to stay with her father’s relations. Perhaps she could accompany you as far as York. That is surely on the way. It would be a great relief to know that she had your protection… even so far!’
Lance immediately cried out that it was a capital idea and after a few moments’ reflection Carl said he was sure it could be managed. It would mean my setting out a little before I had intended but Damaris was reconciled to that because she thought it would be good for me to travel with Carl and Lance.
Preparations became intensive and while we were packing Damaris said to me: ‘I wonder if you would mind if I kept Jeanne here? She seems to manage Sabrina better than anyone.’
I was disappointed, because I had grown so fond of Jeanne, and her bright Anglo-French conversation was always amusing to listen to. However, I did know how useful she was to Damaris and I was so excited at the prospect of my journey that I readily said of course she must stay.