The adulteress

"Well," said my mother, "I must show you Carl's letter. I think then"—she smiled at Jean-Louis—"you will make a special effort to go ... soon."

"It's a pity it is rather an awkward time of year." Jean-Louis frowned a little. He hated disappointing my mother and it was quite clear that she was very eager for us to go to Eversleigh quickly.

"Well, young Weston is quite good, isn't he?" said Sabrina.

Young Weston was a manager we had. He was certainly showing signs of promise but Jean-Louis cared so much about the estate that he was never very happy when he was not at the head of affairs. His desire never to leave Clavering had worked out well because we none of us wanted to go to London as my father used to. He had generally come to the country rather reluctantly and then only because of the card parties he gave; he had much preferred town life and had left everything in the care of Tom Staples and men like him. We had had several agents since Tom Staples's death but Jean-Louis was never entirely satisfied with them.

"He's hardly ready yet," said Jean-Louis.

My mother reached over and pressed my husband's hand.

"I know you'll manage something," she said. And of course he would. Jean-Louis was always eager to please everyone, that was why ... But I must stop reproaching myself in this way.

Now that she knew that Jean-Louis most certainly would take me to Eversleigh my mother went on to reminisce about the old place.

"So long since I have seen it. I wonder if it still looks the same."

Sabrina said: "I daresay Enderby hasn't changed much. What a strange house that was! Haunted, they said. Things did seem to happen there."

I knew vaguely something of Enderby. It was nearby Eversleigh Court and the two houses had been connected because my grandmother Carlotta had inherited the place. There had been a tragedy before that. They weren't our family, but someone had committed suicide there.

Sabrina shivered and went on: "I don't think I ever want to go to Enderby again."

"Are there really ghosts there?" asked Dickon.

"There are no such things," I said. "People imagined them."

"How do you know?" asked Dickon.

"Common sense," I replied.

"I like ghosts," he said, dismissing me and my common sense as he was prepared to dismiss anyone who interfered with his pleasure. "I want there to be ghosts."

"We must arrange it then," said Jean-Louis.

"I was happy in Enderby," said my mother. "I can still remember coming home from France and how wonderful it was to be in the heart of a loving family ... something I shall never forget ... and it was my home for a number of years ... with Aunt Damaris and Uncle Jeremy."

I knew she was thinking of those terrible early days in France when her parents had died suddenly—through poison, it was said—and she had been left in the care of a French maid who sold flowers in the streets when the house was disbanded.

My mother had spoken of it often. She remembered her mother, Carlotta, the great beauty of the family, wild Carlotta, with whom I was later to become obsessed but who was at that time just a dazzling ancestress to me.

"You will be interested to see it all, Zipporah," she said.

"It won't be necessary to stay more than a few weeks, will it?" asked Jean-Louis.

"No, I shouldn't think so. I think the old man is very lonely. He will be so delighted."

Dickon listened avidly. "I'll go instead," he said.

"No, darling," replied Sabrina. "You're not invited."

"But he's your relation too, and if he's yours he's mine."

"Well, it is Zipporah he is inviting."

"I could go to be her companion ... instead of Jean-Louis."

"No," said Jean-Louis. "I have to be there to take care of Zipporah."

"She doesn't want taking care of. She's old."

"All ladies need taking care of when they make journeys," said my mother.

Dickon was too busy consuming cold venison to answer that.

Jean-Louis said that he thought the best time would be in three weeks. He could then make the necessary arrangements, providing we did not stay for more than two weeks.

My mother smiled at him. "I knew you'd make it possible. Thanks, Jean-Louis. I will write immediately. Perhaps you could send a note at the same time, Zipporah."

I said I would and we finished dinner.

Dickon was yawning. It was long past his bedtime, and when Sabrina suggested he might like to go to bed he did not protest.

I went with my mother to write the note, leaving Sabrina and Jean-Louis together making desultory conversation. There was a bureau in the old card room and I said I would do it there.

"Wouldn't you like to come to the library?" my mother asked. "It's more comfortable there."

"No, I always like to be in the card room."

I went in and sat at the bureau. She stood beside me and touched my hair. "You were so fond of your father, weren't you?"

I nodded. "You look rather like him," she said. "Fair hair ... almost golden, those blue eyes ... startlingly blue; and you're tall too, as he was. Poor Lance! What a wasted life."

"He died nobly," I said.