Will You Love Me in September

Lance tapped the side of his nose exaggeratedly to show that the point was taken, and he was still smiling as he went on: "Old George is not so bad, I hear. He's a good friend ... to his friends-and he's quick to forget an injury. He's good-tempered, and as mean as a man can be. He regrets spending a groat. He's completely ignorant of literature and art and doesn't want to be otherwise. 'Boetry' "-Lance made what I guessed to be a good imitation of a German accent-" 'boetry ... vat ist not vor shenthemans.' But of course his English is not nearly as clear as that. Poor old George-I believe he did not want to come here one little bit.”

"People won't like a German," said Arabella.

"They'll get used to him," added Priscilla.

"I believe people get used to anything in time," went on Lance, "even Mesdemoiselles Kielmansegge and Schulemberg.”

"And who are they?" I asked.

"Do have some more of this roast beef," cut in Priscilla.

"We thought the sloe gin was particularly good this year," added Arabella.

This was another instance of their protection. I knew at once that there was something shocking to be learned about the ladies Lance had mentioned and that I was being shielded once more, so I repeated, looking directly at Lance, "Who are they?”

"They are the King's mistresses," he answered, smiling at me.

"Clarissa is ... er ..." began Damaris, blushing a little.

"The lady Clarissa is more worldly than you give her credit for," said Lance, and I think he won my heart at that moment. He turned to me and went on: "They are German ladies ... one incredibly fat, the other amazingly lean. You see, his Germanic Majesty likes variety. They speak very little English, like himself, and they are two of the most unattractive women in Europe. It. is considered something of a joke that they should be the first German imports to show the country.”

"It all sounds a bit of a joke," I said.

"It is. I always thought so much in life is. Do you agree?”

So we bantered and talked and the family watched, and I really believe that at last they realized I was not the baby they had been imagining I was. Lance had made them see that I was almost grown up, and I loved him for that.

It transpired that my great-uncle Carl and Lance would shortly be leaving for York.

They were on some mission for the army.

Damaris said, "Clarissa is going north to stay with her father's relations. Perhaps she could accompany you as far as York. That is surely on the way. It would be a great relief to know that she had your protection ... even so far.”

Lance immediately cried out that it was a capital idea, and after a few moments' reflection Carl said he was sure it could be managed. It would mean my setting out a little before I had intended, but Damaris was reconciled to that because she thought it would be good for me to travel with Carl and Lance.

Preparations became intensive, and while we were packing, Damaris said to me, "I wonder if you would mind if I kept Jeanne here. She seems to manage Sabrina better than anyone.”

I was disappointed, because I had grown so fond of Jeanne, and her bright Anglo-French conversation was always amusing to listen to. However, I did know how useful she was to Damaris and I was so excited at the prospect of my journey that I readily said of course she must stay.

It was a warm day-the last of September-when we set out; we could not have left much later. Damaris had said a tearful farewell to me, and Jeremy stood beside her, a little reproachful because I so obviously wanted to meet my father's family. Jeanne was both tearful and voluble. She was torn between her desire to °e with the new little baby and to come with me whom she regarded as her very own.

I was really rather glad to get away and felt ashamed of myself for this. I will get back before Christmas if that's possible, I thought, for I knew they would hate to celebrate Christmas at Eversleigh without me.

I rode between Carl and Lance Clavering, and we were all very merry once we were on the high road and had left the sadness of parting behind us.

It was a beautiful morning. The warmth of summer was still with us although the leaves of the oaks had turned to a deep bronze and in the hedgerows the field maples were showing their orange and red banners. The tang of the sea was in the faint mist which enveloped everything and gave a touch of misty blueness to the woods.

With us were two serving men and two more to look after the packhorses. They rode behind us, keeping a watch on the roads. Lance said, "How I love setting out on a journey. It's an adventure in itself. Do you think so, Clarissa? The sun will break through at any moment. But I like the mist. Do you? There is an air of mystery about a mist ... mystery and adventure. What say you, Clarissa?”

His questions were rhetorical. He never waited for answers. "It's a morning for singing,”

he went on. "What say you?" Then he broke into song.