Philippa Carr: Zipporah's Daughter

‘Now we have a chance to regain what we have lost. We both realize that. Nothing is going to stand in our way. Your mother will be coming here soon. We shall be married then. I wanted you to hear it first from me. When your mother comes she will tell you what arrangements have been made. In the meantime we must prepare for the wedding.’

He put his arms about me and, drawing me to him, kissed me. I clung to him. I was very fond of him and proud that he was my father. But when I tried to look into the future, it seemed very misty to me.

The news that my father was to be married was received in his household with consternation, I think, although no one said very much to me. Armand shrugged his shoulders and seemed cynically amused because the bride was to be my mother, and the romantic plans were clearly the outcome of an old love-affair.

‘So we have a sister and belle mère at one stroke,’ he said, and I was sure he went off to laugh about it with his cronies—worldly young gentlemen like himself.

Sophie was inclined to be pleased. ‘He will be so taken up with his own marriage that he won’t think about arranging one for me,’ she confided to me.

I replied: ‘You worry too much. If you don’t want to marry the man they choose for you, just say so. Be firm. They can’t drag you screaming to the altar.’

She laughed with me and it occurred to me that we were beginning to get on very well.

Lisette talked excitedly of the marriage.

‘He must be deeply enamoured,’ she said, ‘for there is no need to get heirs.’

‘Surely that is not the only reason for marrying,’ I said.

‘It usually is the main one in France. Otherwise men would never marry. They like a variety of mistresses.’

‘How cynical you all are! Don’t you believe in love?’

‘Love is very fine when there are advantages to let it flourish in comfort. I think that is the view of most people. I have learned to stare cold hard facts in the face and it seems to me that on this occasion your father must be truly in love.’

‘And that amazes you?’

‘I suppose such things can happen to anyone—even men like the Comte.’

She shrugged her shoulders and laughed at me.

I was delighted to see my mother when she arrived. She seemed to have cast off years. I felt very tender towards her because I realized that her life had not been easy. True, she had loved the Comte and betrayed her husband, but that was one of the reasons for her years of contrition, and being the woman she was, she suffered very deeply through what she would call her sin. Now she blossomed; her eyes shone and there was a faint flush on her cheeks. She looked years younger. Like Pilgrim, I thought, when the burden fell from his shoulders. She was like a young girl in love.

The Comte had changed too. I was amazed that two elderly people—at least they seemed elderly to me—could behave like two young people in love. For indeed, they were in love and love appeared to have the same effect on people in their forties as it did on those in their teens.

She embraced me; the Comte embraced me; and we all embraced each other. All the retainers came into the hall to greet her. They bowed low and were all smiling and chattering and the Comte stood by, like a benign god, smiling on the happiness he had created.

Armand and Sophie greeted her with their own special brand of behaviour: Armand, smiling rather condescendingly as though he were confronting two children who were having a special treat, and Sophie nervously, certain that her new stepmother would find faults in her, in spite of the fact that I had assured her my mother was the easiest person in the world to get along with.

They were to be married the following week and the ceremony would take place in the castle chapel. I was all eagerness to ask questions about what was happening at Eversleigh but I did not get a chance to talk to my mother alone until much later in the evening.

We had eaten in the dining-room and I saw how impressed and enchanted she was by the château—just as I had been; and when we arose from the table she asked me to take her to the room which had been prepared for her.

‘We have hardly had a word alone since I arrived,’ she said.

When we were in her room she shut the door and as she looked at me some of the happiness faded from her face, and I felt misgivings that all was not as well as it had seemed.

I said: ‘There is so much I want to know. What about Eversleigh? What are you going to do about everything there?’

‘That is what I want to explain to you. It is taken care of …’

Still she hesitated.

‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.

‘No no. It has all worked out very well. Lottie, I have made Eversleigh over to Dickon.’

‘Oh!’ I smiled. ‘It is what he wanted, and of course, it is the solution.’

‘Yes,’ she repeated. ‘It is what he wanted and it is the solution.’

‘So … he’ll have Eversleigh … and Clavering. I suppose he’ll be at Eversleigh most of the time. He loves that place and of course he is one of the family. If Uncle Carl had not been so eccentric it would have gone to him.’

‘Well, he has it now, and I have a letter for you, Lottie.’

‘A letter!’

She was a long time producing it and when she did she held it as though it were some dangerous weapon.

‘It’s from Dickon!’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘It will explain.’

I threw my arms about her and kissed her. I was longing to read the letter and did not want to do so until I was alone, but as she had asked me to talk to her I did not feel that I could leave her immediately.

‘It’s wonderful,’ I cried. ‘Everyone gets what they want! And you are happy aren’t you, Mother? You truly love him, don’t you?’

‘I have always loved Gerard.’

‘It’s so romantic … one of those “and they lived happily ever after” endings. It’s nice to know they do occur sometimes.’

‘We intend to be happy … after all these years. And, Lottie, this will be your home, you know.’

I frowned. ‘Well, I suppose so really. But I shall visit my relations in England. I suppose my grandmother will be at Eversleigh with Dickon’s mother.’

‘They will not be able to tear themselves away from him, and Eversleigh is a big house. They need not get in his way.’

I was smiling. It was all working out so happily. I would go to Eversleigh and he would be there. I was clutching his letters in my hand and it was difficult to stop myself tearing it open.

Perhaps she understood my impatience for she said: ‘Well, that is what I wanted to tell you.’

‘Dear Mother,’ I replied, ‘it is lovely to see you here. It is the most exciting and beautiful place you could imagine. I love it. And it is wonderful that you and the Comte are going to be so happy.’

‘He is so fond of you. He was delighted with you as soon as he saw you.’

‘I like him, too. Good night, Mother. I’ll see you in the morning. There is so much to talk about.’

‘Good night, my child,’ she said, ‘and always remember that everything I have ever done has been for your good.’

‘I know that. Good night. Sleep well.’

Then I was gone.

As soon as I was in my room I slit the envelope. Dearest little Lottie [he had written],

When you read this Eversleigh will be mine. It was like a miracle. Prince Charming appears out of the blue and whisks your mother off to his romantic castle and she leaves Eversleigh to me.

Isn’t that exciting? I often think of you and our little romance. It did amuse you, didn’t it? Our little game of pretence? We tried to forget that you were only a child and I must admit that at times you did not seem so. But facts are facts. You are going to live in France now. You will meet interesting people, for I believe Monsieur le Comte leads a very colourful life. I am so pleased that you will have such a wonderful time.