Will You Love Me in September

"Was! Ah ... was!" cried Carleton. "Now what will happen to our little Jacobites, eh?”

I could not bear any more. I thought of Hessenfield-brave, strong, tall. He became taller in my mind's picture as time passed, and so had I magnified his virtues, so diminished his faults, that he had become the perfect man. There was none like him, and if he had been a Jacobite, then a Jacobite was a wonderful thing to be.

"They are not little," I burst out. "They are tall ... taller than you are.”

Carleton stared at me. "Oh, are they indeed? So these traitors are a race of giants, are they?”

"Yes, they are," I cried defiantly. "And they are brave and ...”

"Just listen to this," cried Carleton. His eyes opened wide so that the bushy brows shot upward, and his jaw twitched, which usually meant he was suppressing amusement.

He looked fierce, though, as he banged the table. "We've got a little Jacobite in our midst. Now, my girl, do you know what happens to Jacobites? They are hanged by the neck until they are dead. And they deserve it.”

"Stop it, Carleton," said Arabella. "You're frightening the child.”

"He is not!" I cried. "He just said Jacobites are little, and they are not.”

Carleton was not going to be deprived of his teasing.

"We shall have to be watchful, I can see. We must make sure that she does not start a conspiracy here in Eversleigh. Why, she'll be raising a rebellion, that's what she'll be doing.”

"Don't talk such nonsense," said Arabella. "Try some of these sweetmeats, Clarissa.

Jenny made them specially for you. She said they were your favorites.”

"You talk of sweetmeats when our country is being put to risk," cried Carleton. But I knew he was only amusing himself at my expense, and I was satisfied, because I had made my point about the height of Jacobites and had stood by Hessenfield, so I turned, to the sweetmeats and selected one which had a flavor of almonds, which I particularly liked.

Carleton's attention had strayed from me but he was still with the Jacobites.

"They say the Queen favors her brother. That's what comes of women's reasoning.”

I looked at him sharply and said, "That's treason against the Queen. It's worse than saying Jacobites are tall.”

I saw his chin twitch and he was putting on the fierce look again.

"You see, she will betray us all.”

"It's you who do that," I reminded him, "by speaking against the Queen.”

"That's enough, Clarissa," said Priscilla, who was always nervous about political issues. "Now I am tired of this talk, and we will leave the men if they want to fight out their silly battles on the table. I should have thought the recent peace, and all the losses we have suffered to reach it, would have been sufficient answer to all their theories.”

Sometimes Priscilla, who was of a somewhat meek nature, would subdue Carleton as no one else could, not even Arabella.

y grandmother was an unusual woman. She must have been to have borne my mother in secret in Venice. I was to discover how it had happened in due course, because it was the custom of members of our family to keep a journal, and in this they usually put down frankly and honestly what happened to them. It was a point of honor with them that they should do so, and when we were eighteen-or before that if the moment was ripe-we were allowed to read our ancestresses' versions of their lives.

We were just about to rise and leave the men at the table when one of the servants came in looking bewildered.

Arabella said, "What is it, Jess?”

Jess said, "Oh, my lady, there's a person at the door. She's foreign ... don't seem to be able to talk. She just stands there and gibbers, saying, 'Miss Clarissa' ... and 'Miss Damaris.' ... That's all she seems to say that makes sense, please, my lady. The rest is all nonsense ... like.”

Damaris had risen. "We'd better see what it's about. She mentioned me, you say?”

"Yes, mistress. She said, 'Miss Damaris'-plain as that. And 'Miss Clarissa' ...

too.”

I followed Damaris into the hall. Arabella and Priscilla were close behind. The great oak door was open and on the threshold stood a figure in black.

It was a woman and she was clutching a bag. She was talking rapidly in French. It came back to me as I listened and I ran to her.

She looked at me disbelievingly. I had changed a great deal in five years, but I recognized her.

"Jeanne!" I cried.

She was delighted. She held out her arms and I ran into them.

Then Damaris was there. Jeanne released me and looked at her rather fearfully and began to explain rapidly and incoherently, but I could understand quite easily what she was telling us.

We had always said that she would be welcome. We had asked her to come, but she could not leave her mother and grandmother, so she had not gone with us when we left. But we had said she might come, and she remembered. Grand'mere was dead, her mother had married, and Jeanne was free. So she had come back to her little Clarissa, whom she had saved when there was no one to look after her. And she wanted to be with her again... .