Филиппа Карр - Will You Love Me in September

"Dear mother," smiled Damaris, "this will be a great pleasure, and I'll be sitting down all the time!”

Great-grandmother Arabella wondered whether I should have a governess-a French one.

I could speak French because I had learned it side by side with English in the hotel with my parents, and later, in the cellar, no one had spoken anything but French.

"It would be a pity to lose that," said Arabella.

"They never do," was Great-grandfather Carleton's comment. "Not once they have acquired it. The child would only need a little practice at any time in her life. And you could not get a French governess now, with a war between our countries.”

So it was decided that for the time being Damaris should teach me, and the idea of a governess was shelved.

All the talk of French reminded me of Jeanne. I had loved her very much in those days of trial. She had been a bulwark between me and the harsh Paris streets. If anyone had ever represented security to me, she had. I often wondered about her.

I knew that Damaris had offered to bring her back to England with us, but how could she leave Maman and the old Grand'mere? They would have starved without her.

Damaris had said, "If ever you felt free to come to us, you would always be welcome.”

I was glad she had said that and I knew she had rewarded Jeanne for what she had done for me. Jeanne was a clever manager and would make what had been given her last a very long time.

So the year began to pass. I had my pony and Smith taught me to ride and I had never been happier in my life than when I was riding round the paddock, with Smith holding a leading rein and Damon running after us barking with excitement. It was better even than riding on Hessenfield's shoulders.

There were long summer days sitting at the table in the schoolroom learning with Aunt Damaris and then going out to ride-off the leading rein now-walking with Damon, lying in the grass Damon, going to Eversleigh Court or the Dower House to drink lemonade and eat fancy cakes in summer or steaming dn U d wine and pies straight from the oven in winter.

I loved all seasons: Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent; the terminable service and the sadness of Good Friday alleviated by |f tecross buns; Easter with daffodils everywhere and the delights f simnel cake; sitting in church close to Damaris and counting the blues and reds in the stained-glass windows; the number of people I could see without turning my head; and how many ah's, er's and well's Parson Renton uttered during the sermon. There was Harvest Festival, with all the fruit and vegetables decorating the church; and best of all Christmas, with the crib in the manger, ivy holly, mistletoe, carols, presents and excitement. It was all wonderful and I was at the heart of it. They were always questioning themselves and each other about "the child.”

"The child should see more children." Children were invited. There were not many in the neighborhood and I did not greatly care for any of them; I liked best to be with Damaris, Smith and Damon. But I was very content to be "the child" in the midst of all this concern.

As I grew older I began to learn certain things. This was mainly from the servants who came from the Court. They didn't like coming to Enderby, and yet in a way it was an adventure and I think they acquired a little merit from their fellow servants for having come. They would go back to Eversleigh Court and for a while be the center of attraction. I was enormously interested in people and I had an avid curiosity to discover what was in their minds. I had quickly discovered that people rarely meant what they said and that very often words veiled meanings rather than expressed them. I used to listen to the servants talking. I would unashamedly eavesdrop. In defense of myself I must say that I had been made aware that I had had an unusual upbringing and that there were certain facts which had been kept from me; and of course the person I wished to know most about was myself.

Once I heard two servants talking together in the great hall. I was m the minstrels' gallery. Sounds floated up to me while I remained unseen.

“That Jeremy ... he was always a queer customer.”

There were grunts of agreement.

himsif*1 by himself with one man servant. Just that Smith and se« ... and that dog keeping everyone away.”

"Well, all that's changed now Miss Damaris is here.”

"And then her going to France like that.”

"It was a brave thing to do.”

"I'll grant her that. She's a little baggage, that Miss Clarissa.”

My excitement grew. So I was a baggage!

"It wouldn't surprise me if she went the way of her mother. That Miss Carlotta was a regular One. She was so good-looking they say no man could resist her.”

"Go on!”

"Yes, and wasn't it shameful the way she went on and left poor Mr. Benjie. Abducted!

Abducted my foot!”

"Well, it's over now and she's dead, ain't she?”

"Wages of sin you might say.”

"And Madame Clarissa will be such another. You mark my words.”

"They say the sins of the father and all that.”

"You'll see. We'll have sparks there. Just you wait till she gets a bit older. You going to do the minstrels'?”

"I suppose so. Gives me the creeps that place.”

"It's the part that was haunted. You can change the curtains and things but what good does that do? New curtains ain't going to drive ghosts away.”

"A haunted house is always a haunted house, they say.”

"That's true. This is a house for trouble. It'll come again lawns and flower beds, new curtains and carpets notwithstanding. I'll come up the gallery with you if you like. I know you don't want to go up there alone. Let's finish down here first.”

That gave me a chance to escape.

So my beautiful mother had acted shamefully. She had left Benjie for my father, Lord Hessenfield. Vague memories came back to me ... of a night in the shrubbery, being lifted in strong arms ... the smell of the sea and the excitement of being on a ship. Yes, I was deeply involved in that shameful adventure; in fact I was a result of it.

It was later that I learned the story. In those days I was piecing it together from what I could pick up from gossip and what I could remember.

There were tensions in the household. Jeremy had what were known as "moods," from which even Damaris could not always rouse him. Then he appeared to be very sad and it had something e with his bad leg, which had been hurt in battle and gave him to °° times. Then Damaris herself had days when she was not tried to hide the fact, but I could see that behind the it was there. longed for a child. One day when we were sitting together she told me she was ? g to have a baby. I had known something tremendous had opened because even Jeremy looked as though he was never ? a to have a mood again and Smith kept chuckling to him- self I looked forward to the coming of the baby. I would look after it I said. I would sing it some French songs which Jeanne used to sing to me. The household buzzed with preparations. Grandmother Priscilla was constantly fussing over Damaris and Grandfather Leigh behaved as though she were made of china. Great-grandmother Arabella was always giving advice and Great-grandfather Carleton kept muttering "Women!" It struck me that when there was a baby I should no longer be "the child," and Damaris' own would be more dear to her than I, the adopted one, who was only her niece. That was a faintly depressing thought, but I put it aside and threw myself into the general excitement.

I shall never forget that day. Damaris started to have pains in the middle of the night. Grandmother Priscilla was at Enderby and the midwife was there too. Some of the servants from the Court had been sent over.

I heard the commotion and got out of bed and ran to Damaris' room. I was met by a worried Priscilla. "Go back to your room at once," she said, more sternly than she had ever spoken to me before. I obeyed, and when I went again I was told by one of the servants, "Get out from under our feet. This is no place for you.”