The adulteress

"I had not thought you would wish to ... without him."

"Andrew is a kind husband. He wouldn't want to spoil my fun."

She was leering at me in a way I found most unpleasant. I thought, somewhat irrelevantly, that I preferred Jessie to her daughter.

"Well," I said lamely, "the invitations have all gone out now. I naturally thought ..."

"There's time to send out one more."

This was blatant. She was asking for an invitation. Asking? She was demanding it.

"I reckon," she said, "it would look funny if I wasn't there. People would say: 'Why weren't you there?' I'd have to think up something to tell them, wouldn't I? I wouldn't want to but I couldn't let that pass ... somehow ... could I?"

This is blackmail, I thought.

She was smiling at me sweetly, helplessly, as though I were forcing her into a situation which had no charm for her.

Standing there in that lane I was suddenly afraid. I wished I was back at Clavering. I thought of her whispering something into Jean-Louis's ear and a vision of his kind, patient face rose before me.

I loved him; I would do anything rather than hurt him. I know I had forgotten him when I had been caught in the fascination of passionate love with another man. If I could go back I would be different. I would never let it happen. But that was not true. It would be exactly the same, I knew it. I yearned for Gerard. I longed for Gerard. I loved Jean-Louis, yes ... but what I had felt for Gerard was something different ... beyond love, perhaps.

There was one thought hammering in my brain. Jean-Louis must never know.

I looked at this girl with her hateful sly face, with her veiled threats, and I loathed myself as I said: "Well, it is not too late, as you say. If you really want to come."

She smiled at me, looking young and innocent.

"Oh, thank you. So I shall get my invitation? I don't suppose Andrew will be able to come but he wouldn't want to stop me enjoying myself."

I couldn't look at her, I turned away hating her, hating myself.

The party was in full swing. It had been a glorious spring day—as hot as summer—and everyone was saying that it was like old times. Eversleigh was coming into its own again. The farmers with their wives and families were delighted to have what they called the "Family" in command. I suppose poor Uncle Carl had been an invalid almost from the moment he had arrived and he had taken little interest in the estate. It was different with Jean-Louis; he had managed an estate before he came and all those who had talked with him recognized a man who knew his job.

Many of them remembered my mother and one or two of the really aged remembered the great Carleton Eversleigh, who, a hundred years before, when he had been a young man, had saved the mansion and estate from Cromwell's rule.

They liked to feel that the family was in command again and things were not being left to the rogue Amos Carew had turned out to be. And as for that Jessie ... they had all deplored her presence.

So it was a happy occasion until Evalina came.

It was asking too much to expect these people to forget who she was. She was the daughter of the infamous Jessie, who had been the mistress of the old lord at the same time as she was carrying on (as they said) with Amos Carew.

Some of the older people were aloof with Evalina but the younger men found her irresistible. I couldn't help watching her. I was afraid that she might talk to Jean-Louis. But he was busy with the farmers, who seemed as if they were not going to let him escape. He wouldn't want to join the dancers on the grass outside. So I felt comparatively safe.

In the great hall on the dais was one of the new pianos and there were violinists, too, to provide the music. The tables were laden with food of all descriptions and people were invited to help themselves whenever they felt the inclination to do so. Needless to say, many constantly felt the inclination and Mrs. Baines and her kitchen staff were in a twitter of excitement and gratification at the fast disappearances from dishes which needed constant replenishing.

The music floated out to the grounds and in the light of the torches flaring on the walls people wandered through the grounds while others sat and talked and some of the younger ones danced.

I found Charles Forster at my elbow.

I said: "Are you enjoying this? No. It's an unfair question. It isn't much to your taste, is it?"

"I'm a bit of a sobersides, I'm afraid."

"Well, you are occupied with more serious matters. Though this is a serious matter. I think all the tenants are rather pleased that we are here and this is a way of telling them that we are not making great changes but are going on in the way the family have run things for years and years."

"That's true," he said. "It's a worthy occasion. I'm just not a good socializer. Let's walk a little, shall we? The night air is refreshing after the heat of the day."