The adulteress

She was saying that I should meet some of the families round about; there might only be three big houses but the farms were occupied by some very pleasant people and although there were a few of these on the Grasslands and En-derby estates most of them belonged to Eversleigh.

Then I said: "There must be a gathering ... a party."

Isabel was delighted with the idea. "I believe in the old days," she said, "there was one given every year at the big house."

"That would be in Carleton's day, I should imagine. Perhaps my great-uncle General Eversleigh continued the tradition."

"Well, it lapsed when the last Lord Eversleigh was there."

"He was too ill, and I daresay Jessie didn't relish having half the neighborhood there."

"I wonder she didn't invite them in her role of mistress of the house."

"There must have been some lengths to which even Jessie wouldn't go. But now I think, it's a good idea to get back to the old ways."

"I am sure everyone will be delighted."

"You must help me draw up a list of the guests."

We spent a pleasant hour doing this.

"I hope you won't forget my brother-in-law."

"The doctor. No, of course not. If he wishes to come. Perhaps he will be too involved with his work. Will you ask him?"

"I will indeed. And what about some of the people in the town? The solicitors, for one thing?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Rosen ... both senior and junior."

"There, you see. It is quite a formidable list. Oh ... I don't think it will be necessary for me to ask my brother-in-law. I can hear voices. Yes, it is he. You can ask him yourself."

So that was how I met Charles Forster again.

I had forgotten how tall he was. Also that air of melancholy. It was not my custom to find unhappy people interesting. I was attracted by lively characters—people like Gerard and my dear Lottie. But Charles Forster fascinated me from the first. I wanted to know more about him; why he wore that air of almost desperation. His face was thin with high cheekbones and very deepset gray eyes; the gray wig drawn from his face and tied at the back with a black ribbon was perhaps a little out of date but he was the sort of man who would make no concessions to fashion—in fact I believed he would be entirely unaware of it. His dark blue coat was full and came to the knees, hiding his plain cloth breeches; his long muscular legs were encased in light brown stockings and as he came in he carried a three-cornered hat unadorned by feathers.

"Charles!" cried Isabel, her face lighting up with pleasure. "How nice to see you. Here is Mistress Zipporah Ransome. You have already met ... some time ago."

He took my hand and we looked steadily at each other.

"You've forgotten me," I said.

"Indeed I have not. You were staying at Eversleigh."

"Yes ... and now I live there."

"That unfortunate business is settled, I hope."

"Oh yes ... as near as it can be."

Isabel was already pouring out a glass of wine.

"Now, Charles," she said, "you must take refreshment. He doesn't look after himself, you know."

"Isabel clucks over me as though she's a mother hen and I'm one of her wayward chicks," he said.

"I should never have thought of calling you a chick," said Isabel. "What news is there?"

He gave me his melancholy smile. "My news is always the same and therefore it doesn't deserve the name news. Several fresh cases at the hospital, and I expect the population will be increased by five before the end of the day."

"I have heard about your hospital," I said. "It must be rewarding work."

He frowned a little and said: "Not always. There are times when it is... . But then that's life, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. It can't be good all the time. We can only rejoice when it is and hope it will get better when it isn't."

"I can see you have the right idea."

"Are you busy with the patients?" asked Isabel. "I hear there is a lot of sickness about."

"No more than usual. I've just come from Grasslands. And as I was close I thought I'd look in."

"I should have been most put out if you hadn't. Is it Andrew Mather?"

"Yes. He's not strong, you know. It's his heart. It will give out one day. He's got a great will to live, though. I think that's due to his young wife and the baby. He's a very happy man. Not the sort that will give up. He'll cling to life as long as he can."

"And that will help?" I asked.

"Indeed yes. Many people die because they lack the will to live. Andrew Mather will never lack that."

"It's strange," said Isabel, "that a girl like that could bring so much to a man like Andrew Mather."

"Yes," mused the doctor. "I remember him before his marriage. He was ready to give up then ... and slip gracefully into the role of invalid and then that girl comes along ... fascinates him ... and although her motives might not have been entirely altruistic she has given him a new lease of life."

"It reminds me of the old saying which goes something like this: There is a little good in the worst of us and a little bad in the best of us and it ill behoves any of us to criticize the rest of us.' "