The adulteress

"In a way I did kill him," I said. "I knew he was going to do it ... and I let him. That's as bad as killing, isn't it? I'm a murderess ... as well as an adulteress."

"Hush. Don't say such things." He looked round him. "For God's sake be careful. It may be that ... never mind. The thing is now that Jean-Louis is dead. Life was intolerable for him. He suffered a great deal of pain and naturally it weakened his heart. He died of heart failure. It was to be expected. I expected it."

I wanted him to put his arms about me, to reassure me.

He looked at me sadly and said quietly: "We shall have to be very careful ... for a while."

Jean-Louis was buried in the Eversleigh mausoleum. There were many to mourn him for he had been very much liked.

"Poor gentleman," said the tenants, "he suffered enough, God knows. It can only be a happy release."

A happy release. That was the way to look at it.

I saw little of Charles. There was no excuse now for me to go to the house to collect the medicine. I did see him at Ender-by and we had snatched conversations. There had been no lovemaking. It seemed that we had lost our taste for it.

We met in the woods a little distance from the houses.

Then he was as tender as ever. "We'll be married," he said. "It's what I've always longed for. But we shall have to wait a year ... and just at present it should not be known that we are meeting."

I was concerned about Lottie. She mourned Jean-Louis deeply. It was strange to see her subdued. Hetty said that she hardly ever went to see the children now. I spoke to Isabel about her and she said: "She needs a new interest. Why don't you let her give a hand in the hospital? I am sure they could do with auxiliary helpers. Charles says they are always short of staff. It's nothing much they can do ... but they can make beds and take the food round and things like that. If you'd like me to speak to Charles ..."

I said I would and as a result both Lottie and Miss Carter went off every other day to work in the hospital.

I think it did Lottie good because she seemed to take interest in the work and was now talking a great deal about the mothers and their babies.

Letters came from Clavering. As soon as the weather allowed it they would come over and now that poor Jean-Louis was gone there was nothing to keep me from coming to them ... often. I must pay a visit with Lottie. They longed to see me. But first they would come over to us.

There were always letters for Lottie which she would seize on with delight. She would take them to her room and emerge starry-eyed.

She was still young enough, I thought, to enjoy getting letters but she was growing up fast. She was mature for her age and it was touching to see her breaking out into womanhood.

I felt as though I were in limbo. The days seemed long. I filled them with trivial tasks and I kept telling myself: This must pass.

In a year's time I was to marry Charles. He had said that we had to try to forget everything that had gone before ... and that applied to both of us. We had to start a new life. Once we were together we must never look back.

It was the end of March, a stormy day with rain clouds being harried across the sky by a blustering southwest wind.

I was in the hall when Lottie came in with Madeleine Carter. They had ridden home from the hospital and were soaked to the skin.

"Now you must get those wet things off right away," I said.

"All right," said Lottie. "Don't fuss, mama. All in good time."

"Good time is now," I said. "Come on."

I went with her into her room and while she was peeling off her riding skirt I got out fresh things from the drawers of her cupboard.

She stood before me without her bodice and hanging round her neck was a gold chain. I knew the chain well. I had given it to her myself but attached to it was a ring.

I looked at it in amazement.

A ring! And such a ring! It was a square-cut sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

I took it in my hand and looked at it.

She flushed a little. Then she said: "I'm betrothed. That's my betrothal ring."

"Betrothed! At your age!"

"I get older every day. I'm going to be married on the day I'm sixteen."

"Lottie! What do you mean? Who ... ?"

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said. "We went to London and chose it together."

"Who?" I said. "Who ... ?"

She looked at me roguishly. "You're going to be surprised."

"Tell me," I said.

"Dickon."

"Dickon!" I felt as though the room was spinning round me. You don't mean ... ?"

"I knew you'd be surprised. He said not to tell you ... yet. So I wore the ring round my neck instead of on my finger."

"Dickon!" I said again. "But it's nonsense ... it's absurd."

"Why?" she asked sharply.

"He's old ..."

"He's not old. I don't like young boys in any case. Dickon is forever young ... and he's not old really. He's about eleven years older than I am. That's nothing."

I said: "You must send that ring back."

"I shall not."

"You must stop this nonsense."

"Why are other people's love affairs nonsense ... ?"

"You don't understand."