Will You Love Me in September

We were together so much, it seemed as though we knew each other's thoughts, and what we wanted now was to live in peaceful security in the country. It suited us, and we did not miss the house in Albemarle Street. We threw ourselves into the life of the country; we entertained and were entertained by people we knew who were not always those we had known in Lance's day. There was no gambling at our house-except the occasional game of whist, which was played merely for amusement. I had a stillroom and interested myself in the garden, particularly growing herbs. It was the sort of life I had been brought up to in Eversleigh, and although I was not ecstatically happy, I was serene and at peace.

I was delighted to see the bond between my daughter and Jean-Louis grow stronger with the years. It was taken for granted that they would marry in due course. They were eager to do so, but Jean-Louis wanted to be sure he could afford to keep a wife first. Jean-Louis was very independent. He knew the story of his mother's deception, of course, and I think that made him more determined than ever to stand on his own feet. He had always had a great interest in the estate, and before Lance's death had learned a good deal about it from torn Staples, who was Lance's very excellent manager. When Lance died, torn had managed for us with Jean-Louis' help; and when torn died, I offered the job to Jean-Louis, and he accepted it with alacrity. As there was a pleasant house that went with the job, he would now have a home of his own.

That was what he had been waiting for. I knew that he and Zipporah would now marry.

They were happy months before the wedding. Zipporah, Sabrina and I spent long hours refurnishing the manager's house. It was good to see my daughter so happy, and I had no doubt that she had chosen the right man, one whom she had known and loved through her childhood. They had had the same interests, the same upbringing. I did not see how the marriage could fail.

I wished that Lance could have been there to see our daughter's happiness.

It was the beginning of the year 1745. I had said Zipporah should have waited for the summer. "June is the month for weddings," I added.

She had opened those lovely violet-colored eyes very wide and said, "Dear Mother, what does the time matter!”

She was right, of course; so the wedding was to be at the beginning of March.

"Spring will be in the air," Zipporah reminded me.

I thought how wonderful it was to be young and in love and about to be married to the man of one's choice. My thoughts went back to Dickon, and once again I was wondering what my life would have been like if I had married him.

It was absurd to go on dreaming after thirty years. Even if he returned, he would find a middle-aged woman, and I asked myself if he would love me in the autumn of my life as he had in the spring.

The day before the wedding arrived. The house was full of the bustle of preparation; the smell of roasting meats and baking pies and all sorts of preparations filled the house. The guests began to arrive. Zipporah had wanted a traditional wedding, with blue and green ribbons and sprigs of rosemary.

I was taken back all those years to the day I had married Lance. I remembered the haunting uncertainties which had beset me and how, when I had stood at the altar with Lance, it had seemed as though Dickon was at my side, watching reproachfully.

Soon Sabrina and I would be alone. It would be strangely quiet without Zipporah and Jean-Louis. I should miss my daughter's bright presence greatly. But she would not be far away, and I should see her often. And Sabrina and I would be together. I was always uneasy about Sabrina nowadays. I thought she should marry and have children. That would have been the life for her.

I wondered often whether she regretted not marrying. She took solitary rides. I wondered then did she brood on all that marriage might have offered; was she beginning to think of her life as wasted? Now that Zipporah was getting married, did I detect a certain wistfulness in her eyes?

I was thinking about Sabrina when I heard her calling me.

I wondered why she did not come to my room, so I went to the -top of the staircase, and there in the hall was Sabrina and beside her was a man.

I went down the stairs. There was something about him which seemed familiar.

I cried, "Can it be ... ?”

He turned to me and smiled. His eyes, I noticed, were of the same intense blue that I remembered.

"Yes," he said, "it is. And you are Clarissa.”

"Dickon!" I whispered, unbelieving.

"Returned to the home of his fathers," he said. Then he took my face in his hands and looked into my face.

I was immediately apprehensive. I had aged considerably and could not bear much resemblance to the girl he had known all those years ago. There were shadows under my eyes and lines which had not been there when he had last seen me.