Philippa Carr - The Drop of the Dice

She had begun, I suppose, by caring for me, and the bond between us had not lessened with the years. She looked after me, protected me, watched over me just as she had in those old days when she had suspected—rightly—that my life was in danger.

I was of special importance to her because she had saved my life and that had brought about a change in hers, for I do believe that had she not done what she did for me on that day in the woods she would have gone on remembering that fatal day on the ice when she had disobeyed orders and her action had been the indirect cause of her mother’s death.

I was fond of Lance and Jean-Louis, and Zipporah was my own precious child, but between Sabrina and myself there was such an intensity of feeling that nothing could rival it. She knew it and she was content that it should be so. The jealousy of her early childhood had disappeared. She was serene and confident, and, what gave me great pleasure, contented.

Ours was a happy household up to that time. It was as though we had all come to terms with each other. Nanny Curlew stayed with us even though Sabrina was at this time a young woman of nineteen and certainly not in need of a nurse. But with Nanny Goswell she presided over Zipporah’s needs and the two nannies made themselves useful in a hundred ways so that we could not imagine our household without them.

We spent the time between Clavering Hall and Albemarle Street, paying occasional visits to Eversleigh, which seemed so different now. Priscilla and Leigh were at the big house, Eversleigh Court; Uncle Carl remained with the army; and Enderby had been sold and the Dower House was empty. Change was inevitable but everything was so different there from the old days. As for myself, I was now in my thirties and no longer young.

I had thought that Sabrina would marry early and was rather surprised that she had reached the age of nineteen without doing so. That she was very attractive, there could be no doubt, and there had been several young men who had wanted to marry her, and among them more than one who would have been a very desirable husband, but although she enjoyed their admiration and regard she had no wish to marry them.

It was soon after her nineteenth birthday that Lance gave me the stole. It was a beautiful thing trimmed with lace and thousands of tiny seed pearls; being silver grey, it toned with everything and was very useful to wear round my shoulders at some of the evening parties we attended. It was elegant in the extreme but at the same time very outstanding. People never failed to admire it when I wore it; and if I did not do so many enquired what I had done with my beautiful seed pearl stole.

There was one man whom we met frequently in society. I disliked him intensely from the moment I set eyes on him. He was big, florid of complexion, with fleshly indulgence written all over his face; he ate heartily, drank heavily and was reputed to have a voracious sexual appetite. His name was Sir Ralph Lowell but he was generally known as Sir Rake, a name in which he delighted. He had what I can only call a ‘familiar’—a pale-faced, mean man, as tall as himself but about half the width. This was Sir Basil Blaydon. Sir Basil was ill-favoured rather through expression than feature. He had very small pale blue eyes which seemed to dart everywhere, noting the disabilities of everyone, and a thin curved mouth which seemed to express delight in them.

I used to say to Lance. ‘Why do we have Lowell and Blaydon? We could well do without them.’

‘My dear,’ said Lance, ‘Lowell is one of the most reckless gamblers I ever knew.’

‘Even more so than yourself?’ I asked.

Lance smiled with his imperturbable good humour. ‘I am cautious in comparison. No, we have to include Lowell. He would come in any case. I have known him appear uninvited now and then.’

‘Well, I don’t like him in the house—nor that man who comes with him.’

‘Oh, Blaydon just walks in his shadow. Just ignore the two of them since you don’t like them.’

And whenever I mentioned my abhorrence of these two men, Lance always turned my objections aside with a light remark which was so much more effective than a protest would have been.

So we continued to endure Sir Rake.

I was a little dismayed when his son, Reginald, became friendly with Sabrina. Reggie, as he was known, was a poor creature, as different from his father as it was possible to be. He was a tall, gangling youth with pale eyes and skin and he was clearly cowed by his father who seemed to despise him. He limped slightly which was due to a fall when he was a baby. His mother had died as the result of a miscarriage when she was trying to produce another of the sons which Sir Rake desperately wanted. So the only son he had was Reggie.

It was perhaps typical of Sabrina that she should be interested in Reggie. Sabrina wanted to look after people; to manage their affairs, to care for them; and to do this she must find someone in need of care. Poor Reggie, slightly crippled, cowed by his father and dismissed as of little importance by most people, fitted the role perfectly.

I am sure that at first it was pity with Sabrina. Other young women had little desire for his company; she would show them all that she, the most sought-after among them, was willing to pay some attention to poor Reggie.

She would seek him out. At first the poor young man was bewildered and then he would look for her and if she did not appear he would be wretched; when she did come his eyes would light up with such adoration that I began to be alarmed.

They would chat together and she even persuaded him to dance with her. He did this clumsily because of his disability but she always looked as though she were enjoying the dance and I heard her tell him once that there was no one she would rather be with.

I talked to Lance about it. He shrugged his shoulders. It was unwise, he said, to interfere in the affairs of the young.

‘Could she marry him?’ I persisted.

‘If they agreed it, of course.’

‘I mean, would it be wise? Reggie is dependent on his father… and as for Sabrina going into that household… it makes me shudder to think of it.’

Lance’s thoughts were elsewhere. He said lightly: ‘These matters work themselves out.’

It was at times like this that I felt irritated with him, and disappointed. Dickon, I felt sure, would have understood my fears. At least he would have given his attention to them.

I decided to speak to Sabrina.

‘Do you think it wise to give so much of your attention to Reggie Lowell?’ I asked.

‘I like Reggie,’ she answered. ‘And I think he likes me.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ I said. ‘That’s the trouble. He likes you too much. I think he’s in love with you.’

She nodded, smiling gently.

‘But, Sabrina,’ I went on, ‘I know you feel sorry for him, but is it right to lead him on to think…’

‘To think what?’

‘Well, that you might marry him.’

‘Why shouldn’t he think it?’

‘But you wouldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, Sabrina, do you really mean you’re in love with him?’

She hesitated and I went on triumphantly: ‘There, you see. You’re sorry for him. I know that. I know you well. But that is not enough.’

‘Enough? He needs someone to look after him, to show him that he would be all right if he would forget about not being so.’

‘Dear Sabrina, what you are doing is giving him the wrong impression.

‘I am not,’ she said firmly.

‘Do you mean to say you would marry him?’

‘I might.’

‘Sabrina! There are so many… you could have almost anybody.’

‘I don’t want anybody. I want to help Reggie.’

I was disturbed and then I began to think that perhaps she was right. Reggie needed her and Sabrina was the kind of girl who needed to be needed. It may have gone back to that incident on the ice and her father’s dislike for her. I had thought when she had saved my life we had wiped that out for ever, but perhaps some dramatic incidents made such an effect on the mind that they were indelible.