The adulteress

He turned as though to stride out of the house. "You won't find him," I said. "He and his mother have gone away. They'll be away some weeks."

"So he's run away because ..."

"No. He didn't know that Hetty tried to kill herself."

He winced. "Why didn't she come to me?"

"How could she come to you? She thought you would never want to see her again."

He looked infinitely sad and I went on: "Oh, James, you do ... don't you? You do."

He nodded without a word. Then I put my arms round him and held him tightly to me for a moment.

"Oh, James," I said, "please help me to heal this poor broken child."

"I love her, Zipporah," he said. "I love her."

"I know, James. And how deep is that love? Is it big enough, strong enough ... do you think?"

"I know it is."

"James," I said, "will you go to her now? Will you speak to her? Will you tell her that you love her, that you will look after her ... that you understand? That's the most important of all. To understand. It was no fault of her. ... If you had been there it could not have happened. Oh, James, please, please."

"Where is she?"he said.

"In her room upstairs."

"I'll go to her," he said, "and, Zipporah, bless you."

James was going to marry Hetty. Jean-Louis and I were delighted, but then came the blow.

It would be quite impossible for them to remain at Clavering. James could never trust himself near Dickon. Hetty never wanted to see him again. James's uncle had recently died—it was his reason for not being at the Harvest Home—and his cousin wanted him to go in with him on the farm.

How we should manage without James was a great problem. We could get another agent, it was true, but James had been especially good and in view of Jean-Louis's weakness we needed someone who was more than ordinarily good.

In time we found Tim Parker, who seemed to be efficient and keen, but we missed James in so many ways. Our consolation was that he and Hetty were settling down at the farm.

Three months after they left we heard that Hetty had had a miscarriage and three months after that that she was pregnant again.

I thought the child's death was not such a tragedy after all because it would have been a constant reminder to them all through their lives. Now they had the opportunity to start afresh and I believe James, being the sensible young man he was, took it wholeheartedly and Hetty was grateful for all he had done for her.

When Dickon and Sabrina returned from Bath, which Dickon had thoroughly enjoyed, he took extra care with his clothes and turned into a dandy.

I hated him and in my hatred there was an element of fear. He was an evil influence on our lives, I was sure. My mother and Sabrina seemed to dote on him more than ever. He still professed a great interest in the estate and became quite friendly with Tim Parker. He was pleased that he had driven James away. He knew why, of course, and was secretly amused when he heard that James and Hetty were married. I think he thought he had shown James that no one could displease him and not expect to pay for it.

We had just had the news that Hetty's son was born. We were settling down as well as could be hoped. Tim Parker was a good enough man so it had worked out not too unsatisfactorily. Then one day when I was in my stillroom one of the maids came to tell me that there was a young man below to see me.

I said he should be brought into the hall and I would come down.

He was not much more than a boy, and I thought I had seen him before.

Rather awkwardly he pulled his forelock and said: "Me grandad sent me. I've rid all the way from Eversleigh."

"Your grandad?"

"Jethro, mistress."

"Yes, yes."

"He wants me to tell you, mistress, that he thinks you should come. There's something going on up there that ought to be looked into."

The Conspiracy

I sent Jethro's grandson back with messages for Jethro and Uncle Carl. I should be coming to see him and setting out before the end of the week.

Jean-Louis wanted to come with me but that would not be easy. Tim Parker was understandably not yet so conversant with the management of the estate that he could be left alone; also we both knew that Jean-Louis would find the journey exhausting and that this would be an anxiety for me.

What of Sabrina or my mother? wondered Jean-Louis. But since Hetty's affair my relationship with them had undergone a change. They couldn't quite forget my animosity toward Dickon and took it as a sort of affront to themselves. Perhaps the real reason was that I was afraid of what Jessie or Evalina would hint. In any case I knew that I had to go and I wanted to go alone.

So after some argument with Jean-Louis, who was fearful of my traveling alone, it was agreed that I should take six grooms with me, as I had on the first occasion, with an extra one to look after the saddle horse.