Will You Love Me in September

"Then, my dear matchmaker, that is what we must do.”

It was a few days later, when she was brushing my hair, that I told Jeanne we were planning to do more entertaining at the Hall.

"Will you like?" she asked.

"To tell the truth, Jeanne, it was I who suggested it.”

"There will be card games, then. You want that?”

"No, of course I don't. But I think my sister should meet people.”

"To find a 'usband for her?" asked Jeanne bluntly.

"I did not say that, Jeanne.”

"No, but you do not always say what you mean.”

"Well, if I did mean it, it would be a good idea, wouldn't it?”

"It would be very good. Madame Aimee is not the one you think her.”

"Now, what do you mean by that?" I demanded somewhat testily. I was irritated by Jeanne's frequent innuendoes concerning Aimee.

"You must watch 'er," whispered Jeanne. "I think she 'ave an eye for the men. And men are men ... even the best of them.”

I knew she was referring to Lance, for whom she had an inordinate admiration because of his handsome appearance, elegant style of dress and gracious manners.

"You talk arrant nonsense sometimes, Jeanne," I said.

She gave a rather vicious tug to a tangle, so that I cried out in protest.

"You will see," she said darkly.

It was not long before I was wishing that I had not suggested having these parties, for a round of gaiety began and almost always the gatherings ended at the card tables.

Lance, who had been considerably sobered by the recent disaster, became as fervently involved as before. Aimee, too, had a taste for the game. Lance said she played a very good hand at faro, and they played sometimes into the early hours of the morning.

I would often retire before the games ended. No one seemed to mind; the only thing that mattered once the tables were set up was the play.

Lance had a run of luck and was sure he was going to retrieve all he had lost in time. This was the pattern of luck, he said. Up one day and down the next.

I became very uneasy again, but I did not want to become a nagging wife and I had long ago realized that nothing I could do would make Lance anything but a gambler.

I think I was almost as anxious about Aimee as I was about Lance. He at least could look after himself. I remonstrated with him about encouraging Aimee to play.

"Where can she find the money?" I asked. "You know her circumstances.”

"Don't deny her the excitement, Clarissa," he answered. "Poor girl, she has had a hard time. She enjoys it so much, and she has a good card sense.

She's a natural, and lucky too. Some people are, you know.”

"But how can she afford ...”

"Don't worry about that. I set her up, and if she wins she pays me back. If she loses, we forget it.”

"Oh, Lance!”

He put his arms round me and kissed me, laughing as he did so. "Let the girl enjoy herself," he pleaded.

"It is not the right way.”

"We can't all be like you, my darling.”

I was silent, feeling that I was priggish, a spoilsport.

A few days later I heard a little altercation between Jeanne and Aimee. Before that the hostility between them had been silent, though pronounced.

I was on my way to Aimee's room when I heard their voices raised in anger. I hesitated and could not help hearing what they were saying. They spoke in French rapidly and angrily.

"Take care," Aimee was saying. "You are not in the Rue de la Morant now, you know.”

"How did you know I was ever in the Rue de la Morant?”

"You know you were there with your mother and grandmother. You know only the lowest of the low live in such places.”

"We lived there because we could afford no better. But how did you know?”

"I heard you say it.”

"Never did you hear me mention it. Never. Never.”

"Be quiet and don't speak so to your betters.”

"You ... you ..." cried Jeanne in a fury. "Have a care. If ever you hurt my Lady Clarissa, I will kill you.”

I did not wait for more. I turned and hurried away.

I did not like this growing hostility between Jeanne and Aimee any more than I liked the gambling which once more was becoming the main feature of our lives.

That summer and autumn passed uneasily, and it seemed that in a very short time Christmas was upon us. We were to go to Enderby as usual, and we set out from Albemarle Street on the morning of the twentieth of December, hoping to get as far as possible before darkness fell.

It was a somewhat hazardous journey, as the cold weather had set in early and it seemed that the winter might be a severe one.

It took us three days to reach Enderby, and Damans was in a state of anxiety, visualizing the state of the roads. Aimee, of course, accompanied us, with Jean-Louis, and there was a great welcome for the baby, who was admired by them all except Sabrina. I was sure she thought he detracted from her own importance.

She was delighted to see me, however, and I was touched by her boisterous welcome.

"It's going to snow," she told me, "and freeze, and we shall all go skating on the pond. I have a new pair of skates. I shan't get them until Christmas day though.

My papa has bought them for me.”