The Return of the Gypsy (28 page)

“I expect it was uncomfortable living in a caravan after your lovely bedroom at Enderby.”

She nodded.

“And it was only then that you realized all the care you had had.”

“Leah loves me.”

“But she could not give you a warm feather bed, a pony of your own to ride.”

“I had a horse to ride.”

“Silk dresses … delicious food.”

“It wasn’t that… only.”

“Poor Tamarisk. You made a mistake. You walked thoughtlessly away from Mademoiselle Sophie who had done everything for you.

“I remembered after.”

“Yes. When it was too late.”

“I wanted to come back. I did really.”

“I daresay you did.”

“I couldn’t get home … because of the water. And they wouldn’t let me go.”

“You chose them. You hurt Mademoiselle Sophie deeply by deserting her for them.”

She was crying gently. I was unsympathetic but I felt that was what she needed. Any attempt to smooth over what she had done would not have pleased her. She was, at heart, an extremely logical person. She was more impressed if one spoke the truth. She had brought great sorrow to Sophie who had given her nothing but kindness, and any attempt to deny it would strike her as extremely false.

“When something is done it’s done,” I said. “There is no going back. You have to accept it and go on from there. That’s the best way.”

“But she’s dead.”

“Yes. But that is past. You have learned a lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“To think of others besides yourself.”

“Do you think of others?”

“Sometimes.”

“Not always?”

“We’re none of us perfect.”

“So you do wrong things.”

“Of course I do.”

She smiled and the tears stopped flowing.

“Listen, Tamarisk,” I said. “You’re a lucky girl. You did a wicked thing. You walked out on someone who had been kind to you and loved you dearly.”

“I killed her.”

“No, you didn’t. If she had been stronger she wouldn’t have died. She caught a cold and became ill. It was some time after you left. You caused her great suffering, that’s true. But most of us act badly at some time. The great lesson to learn is that it is done and you must try to atone for it.”

“What is that?”

“Being better in the future. Think of others. Go and visit Jeanne more often. Let her see you love her and that you are grateful to her for all the love she gave you. Try to be thoughtful and kind and then Mademoiselle Sophie will look down from Heaven and say, ‘It was not in vain.’ There! Here endeth the first lesson. Now go to sleep.”

I tucked her in and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Goodnight,” I said.

I tiptoed out and shut the door.

I wish I could say she changed after that night. She did not. But I think she began to grieve less. She was as headstrong as ever.

Leah was her constant companion and she was a great help in looking after her. I engaged a governess for her. She was eight years old now and in need of tuition. She was bright and eager to learn and very quickly made up for a lack of schooling during the time she had been with the gypsies.

I was seeing a great deal of Amaryllis and every time I came back from Enderby I would fight a battle with myself, for I was becoming more and more aware of what I was missing in life. What I wanted more than anything was a child. I learned that Amaryllis was expecting one. She was in a seventh heaven of delight. She was so much in love with her husband. It could not be anything but a happy house with Amaryllis in it. She was in constant conclave with Claudine; they went to London to buy materials for the baby’s clothes; the nurseries which had been quiet for so long were opened.

David had been wrong when he had said that if the bushes were cut down and more light let in it would take away the eerie brooding atmosphere. The bushes were of no account. Amaryllis, her happy marriage and her coming baby were enough to change that house.

Oh yes, I was envious. Not of her husband. That had passed. It was the baby I wanted.

So much was happening abroad. Napoleon was no longer having one success after another and Wellington was making progress. He was the hero of the hour and when he with his allies marched into Paris and Napoleon was forced to abdicate, we believed that really was the end of him. Napoleon had been banished to Elba and there was once more a king on the throne of France. Louis XVIII now reigned over them.

My mother’s comment was: “All the misery might never have taken place. Here they are just as they were before the storming of the Bastille.”

“Wiser, let’s hope,” said my father.

But the great topic was the coming baby.

Peter was often in London. He had great interests there. He had abandoned the idea of buying an estate. He said he did not think he was meant to be a squire. Moreover he had gone into several flourishing concerns and it was these, apparently, which took him so frequently to London. He talked a little about his affairs with my father and David. David, of course, did not pretend to understand the sort of business in which Peter was engaged. My father admitted that it was a little obscure and something with which he had never had any connection. Peter talked a great deal about his interests in Jamaica and I gathered that he was concerned in the importing of sugar and rum. He discussed Jamaica at length; but since my father was not entirely sure about what he was doing, it was hardly likely that the rest of us would be.

It was of little importance. He was clearly a man of substance; Amaryllis was very happy; and he was the father of the newcomer for whom such a welcome was being prepared.

At the end of April Amaryllis’ baby was born, and there was great rejoicing throughout the family although my father said: “Another girl. When is this family going to produce a boy?”

My mother chided him and said she had not noticed that he had an aversion to her sex.

The baby was christened Helena. I saw her when she was a few hours old, looking rather like a wrinkled and irritable old gentleman; but as the days passed the wrinkles disappeared, her skin developed the texture of a peach and her startlingly blue eyes delighted us all. We were all very soon Helena’s slaves; and the ache within me grew stronger every day.

I took to calling frequently. Amaryllis used to watch me with the child, for I always held her, if chat were permitted, and I did fancy she had a special feeling for me. I caught Amaryllis’ eyes on me and they were full of pity. I felt resentful against her then … against life, I suppose. I began to ask myself whether I should have listened to my parents’ warning.

Then I went home to Edward and sat by his bed desperately trying to checkmate him and failing miserably. I thought: No. I have done the right thing, the only thing. I should never have been happy if I had rejected him because of what had happened to him. But however right an action may be at the time it can be hard to live with. One quick act of self sacrifice is easy; but to go on practising it for years—perhaps for life—that is a very different matter.

I noticed that Peter was spending more and more time in London; and I wondered if this hurt Amaryllis. I mentioned it tentatively one day.

She said: “Oh, Peter is very busy. He has all sorts of commitments in London. He is very much the businessman.”

“All that sugar and rum,” I said.

“Yes. He knows so much about it, having been brought up where they produce it. He has opened several new warehouses.”

“Does he store the stuff then?”

“I suppose he must do if he is opening these places.”

“Have you seen any of them?”

“Me? Oh no. They are near the docks, I think. He has never taken me there. He said they were no place for me. He is so happy about it because he says it has turned out so well.”

“Does he talk to you about his business?”

“Very little. But he does give me money now and then saying that is a dividend.”

“You mean you have money in his ventures?”

“Of course.”

“I see.”

We had both received large sums of money on our marriages. It was all part of some settlement. I think the sums had been equal. Mine was invested and Edward never suggested touching it. The interest came to me and remained mine.

“All I have to do is sign the documents when they come along,” said Amaryllis.

“What documents?”

“I don’t know. Papers about money and all that. You see, I’m a shareholder. Peter manages all that.”

“So your fortune is in his business?”

“It’s a joint affair … only Peter does all the work.”

“And you supply the money?”

“My dear Jessica, Peter did not become rich only when he married me. He was far more wealthy than I before that. He is just allowing me to share in what he has. I do nothing. I don’t understand it. Really, Jessica, what should
I
know about importing rum and sugar and distributing it to people who want to buy it?”

“Nothing at all, I should imagine.”

She changed the subject, but it set me thinking. He was using her money for this big business in London. Was that why he had married her—so that he could use her money?

I suppose I was really trying to find an excuse for his turning to her. But it did not make sense. I was equally well endowed. There was absolutely no reason why he should have switched his attentions to her except that he found her more attractive.

It was natural. She was sweet and gentle and very pretty. I was abrasive, questioning everything, asserting myself, rather conceited. There was every reason why he should have preferred her.

She was more amenable, of course. Had I been involved in this business with rum and sugar, I should have wanted to know more about it. I should have wanted to see the warehouses; I should have wanted to see the accounts. Not that I was particularly interested in money; I just liked to be aware of all that was happening.

Why should I seek reasons? It did not matter. He had chosen her. I had not been in love with him … just flattered by his attentions and perhaps finding in him a certain sensuality which kindled something in myself. No, I had not been in love with Peter Lansdon, but sometimes I think I might have begun to be … a little.

I would stop thinking about him, The real source of my envy was the baby. She had brought home to me that while I remained Edward’s wife I could not have a child.

There was a sense of euphoria across the whole country now that the ogre who had haunted our lives for so long was in exile. We could go about our peaceful existences without fears of invasion.

“The French should never allow such a man to arise again,” commented my father.

“I think,” replied my mother, “that the French nation adored that man. They looked upon him as a sort of god.”

“What I meant was that we must never allow the French to produce such a man again.”

“Or any nation for that matter,” added my mother. “Why can’t people see how much happier we should all be living peacefully with our families … not hankering after great conquests.”

“Unfortunately,” said David, “it is not the people who decide. It is the so-called great men.”

“They may gain glory for themselves but they certainly bring misery to millions. I wonder what he is thinking of grinding his teeth on Elba.”

“Thinking of escape no doubt,” said my father.

“That must never happen,” added my mother.

Napoleon was finished, everyone said. He was not the first man who had dreamed of conquering the world and doubtless would not be the last. But eventually he had been brought to defeat and we could sleep in peace.

It was a lovely May afternoon when we had visitors. I was at Eversleigh sitting in the garden with my mother, Claudine and Amaryllis, when one of the maids came out to say that two gentlemen had called to see my mother. “Foreigners,” she added.

“Did they give their names?” asked my mother.

“No, Madam. They just said to see you.”

“Bring them out,” said my mother.

And they came.

My mother stared; then she grew pale and I thought she was going to faint. Claudine had risen; she gave a little cry.

Then my mother said faintly: “Is it really … ?” And with a little cry she flung herself into the arms of the elder of the men. The younger stood by, looking on in a bewilderment which was shared by Amaryllis and myself.

“Charlot… Charlot…” cried my mother.

Claudine stammered: “Oh Charlot, is it really you?”

And she embraced him too.

Charlot! My mother’s son—my half brother, who had left England before I was born.

“My dear dear son,” my mother kept murmuring. “To think … after all these years …”

“I came as soon as it was possible,” he said. “It seems so long … You recognized me.”

“My dear boy, as if I should fail to do so.”

“This is Pierre, my son.”

My mother took the hands of the younger one and stared at him. Then she kissed him on both cheeks. “Just think, you are my grandson. And this is your Aunt Claudine … Charlot, Jessica is my daughter … your half sister … and Amaryllis, she is David and Claudine’s daughter.”

“Much has happened since I left.”

“All those years …” said my mother. “It has been a long time to wait. Now tell me … You will stay with us for a while. This is not to be a brief visit. There is so much to talk of. All those years to account for …”

“I should have been here before only travelling was out of the question.”

“Thank God it is over and the tyrant is in exile.”

“We have a king on the throne of France now, Maman.”

There were tears in her eyes as she said: “You were always such a royalist, dear Charlot.” She went on briskly: “Amaryllis, will you go and tell them to prepare rooms. See what’s going on in the kitchens. Tell them my son and grandson have come home!”

My mother had eyes only for him. I realized how saddened she had been by his departure. It must have been more than twenty years since she had seen him. Wars! Revolutions! They did not only ruin states, they brought havoc into the lives of countless families. How we had suffered through them!

Now there was rejoicing. The prodigal had come home.