The adulteress

So they went. And how desolate I was watching them leave. His visit had brought back so vividly memories of the past. I would never forget him. Nothing would ever have effaced the memory of him. Not even Charles. I had loved Charles. I had loved Jean-Louis. But I realized that the feeling Gerard had roused in me was different from what I felt for either of them.

There was mystery about him. What did I know of him? That he lived excitingly. That he was deeply immersed in the affairs of his nation. That he had been in England on some secret mission.

He had come into my life and changed it; and if I knew little about him I had learned something about myself.

For the rest of my days I would think of him; I would relive my youth through him. I felt young when he was near. I wondered if I should ever see him again.

How long the days seemed. I missed Lottie very much.

Almost two weeks passed before I heard from them.

Lottie was ecstatic. She had been to Versailles. She had been presented to the aging king, who had spoken very kindly to her; she had met the young dauphin. I should see the gown her father had bought for her to go to court. There had never been such a gown.

I scanned the letter. There was no mention of Dickon. There was a letter from Gerard. It was not long but it was of such significance that I did not believe what I read and read three times before I really accepted those words.

He had seen me again. He had thought of me over the years. So often he had wanted to come to see me. It was not easy. When we met he had been married. He was married when he was very young, after the custom of families such as his. It was no love match; and he had made no secret of his amours. Yes, there had been others. But it was different with us. His wife had died five years ago. He was free. He was enchanted with his daughter. He could never let her go and it occurred to him that the parents of such a daughter should be together. We knew each other well. We knew we were ideally suited. Would I consider uprooting myself ... giving up my home in England and becoming Madame la Comtesse d'Aubigne?

"Dear Zipporah," he wrote, "It is not because of Lottie. Though I like her very much. It is because of you ... and of what we were to each other ... which I have learned through the years is something that comes rarely and when it does is to be cherished. It never died with me. Did it with you? If it did not ... then we should be together. I await your answer."

I was in a daze of delight.

I don't think I hesitated for a moment. I was young again. I was the girl who ran out to meet her lover so eagerly all those years ago.

Then I thought of Eversleigh. Of my responsibilities.

Well, the estate could go on. James Fenton ... But James wanted a farm of his own.

Then I knew what I would do.

I wrote to Dickon. I asked him to come and see me immediately as I had come to a decision. I knew that would bring him.

Then I went to see James and Hetty.

I said: "James, I know you want a farm of your own."

"We would never leave you," said Hetty quickly.

"Suppose it was possible for you to do so?"

"Do you mean you have got someone else?"

I said: "Just suppose it were possible. Would you go?"

They looked at me in amazement.

"But James knows the estate."

"There might be changes. Please, I don't want to say anything yet. I just want you to answer a simple question. If it were easy ... if I were suited ... would you prefer to get your own farm? You could do that easily now, James. You know you could."

"Well," said James, "if you put it like that ... naturally, most men like to be their own masters."

"That's what I wanted to know."

I went to them and kissed them. "You have been good friends to me," I said.

"What has happened?" asked Hetty. "You look as if you've seen some miracle."

"Yes," I said. "Perhaps I have. Be patient with me. If it works ... you'll know soon enough."

Dickon arrived confident and certain of himself, sure, I knew, that I would have by now, what he would call, come to my senses.

I said to him: "Dickon. What would you say if I told you I was passing Eversleigh over to you?"

I had rarely seen him taken off his guard, but he was then. He looked at me suspiciously.

"I mean it," I said. "After all, it is Eversleigh you want. You'd be ready to forego Lottie for Eversleigh, wouldn't you?"

"Dear Zipporah, you talk most amusingly but somewhat obscurely. This is one of the few matters about which I do not care to joke."

I said: "Lottie is in France with her father."

His face clouded. "What is your game, Zipporah?"

"Very simple. You wanted to marry Lottie for Eversleigh. Eversleigh is what you want. You would manage it perfectly, I know. The ancestors would rise up and sing Hallelujah, I am sure. They never liked the idea of its being in the hands of a woman ... although I had a husband to help me. Could you forget Lottie if you already had Eversleigh?"

"Do you mean could I be persuaded to forego my courtship?"