Drop of the Dice Read online

  So the year began to pass. I had my pony and Smith taught me to ride and I had never been happier in my life than when I was riding round the paddock with Smith holding a leading rein and Damon running after us barking with excitement. It was better even than riding on Hessenfield’s shoulders.

  There were long summer days sitting at the table in the schoolroom learning with Aunt Damaris, and then going out to ride—off the leading rein now—walking with Damon, lying in the grass with Damon, going to Eversleigh Court or the Dower House to drink lemonade and eat fancy cakes in summer or steaming mulled wine and pies straight from the oven in winter. I loved all the seasons: Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent; the interminable service and the sadness of Good Friday alleviated by hot cross buns; Easter with daffodils everywhere and the delights of simnel cake, sitting in church close to Damaris and counting the blues and reds in the stained-glass windows, the number of people I could see without turning my head, and how many Ahs, Ers and Wells Parson Renton uttered during his sermon. There was Harvest Festival with all the fruit and vegetables decorating the church, and best of all Christmas with the crib in the manger, ivy, holly, mistletoe, carols, presents and excitement. It was all wonderful and I was at the heart of it. They were always questioning themselves and each other about ‘the child’.

  ‘The child should see more children.’ Children were invited. There were not many in the neighbourhood and I did not greatly care for any of them; I liked best to be with Damaris, Smith and Damon. But I was very content to be ‘the child’ in the midst of all this concern. As I grew older I began to learn certain things. This was mainly from the servants who came from the Court. They didn’t like coming to Enderby and yet in a way it was an adventure and I think they acquired a little merit from their fellow servants for having come. They would go back to Eversleigh Court and for a while be the centre of attraction. I was enormously interested in people and I had an avid curiosity to discover what was in their minds. I had quickly discovered that people rarely meant what they said and very often words veiled meanings rather than expressed them. I used to listen to the servants talking. I would unashamedly eavesdrop. In defence of myself I must say that I had been made aware that I had had an unusual upbringing and that there were certain facts which had been kept from me; and of course the person I wished to know most about was myself.

  Once I heard two servants talking together in the great hall. I was in the minstrels’ gallery. Sounds floated up to me while I remained unseen.

  ‘That Jeremy… he was always a queer customer.’

  There were grunts of agreement.

  ‘Lived by himself with one manservant. Just that Smith and himself… and that dog keeping everyone away.’

  ‘Well, all that’s changed now Miss Damaris is here.’

  ‘And then her going to France like that.’

  ‘It was a brave thing to do.’

  ‘I’ll grant her that. She’s a little baggage, that Miss Clarissa.’

  My excitement grew. So I was a baggage!

  ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if she went the way of her mother. That Miss Carlotta was a regular One. She was so good-looking they say no man could resist her.’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘Yes, and wasn’t it shameful the way she went and left poor Mr Benjie. Abducted! Abducted, my foot!’

  ‘Well, it’s over now and she’s dead, ain’t she?’

  ‘Hm. Wages of sin, you might say.’

  ‘And Madame Clarissa will be such another. You mark my words.’

  ‘They say the sins of the fathers and all that.’

  ‘You’ll see. We’ll have sparks there. Just you wait till she gets a bit older. You going to do the minstrels’?’

  ‘I suppose so. Gives me the creeps, that place.’

  ‘It’s the part that was haunted. You can change the curtains and things but what good does that do? New curtains ain’t going to drive ghosts away.’

  ‘A haunted house is always a haunted house, they say.’

  ‘That’s true. This is a house for trouble. It’ll come again… lawns and flower-beds, new curtains and carpets notwithstanding. I’ll come up in the gallery with you if you like. I know you don’t want to go up there alone. Let’s finish down here first.’

  That gave me a chance to escape.

  So my beautiful mother had acted shamefully. She had left Benjie for my father, Lord Hessenfield. Vague memories came back to me… of a night in the shrubbery, being lifted in strong arms… the smell of the sea and the excitement of being on a ship. Yes, I was deeply involved in that shameful adventure; in fact I was a result of it.

  It was later that I learned the story; in those days I was piecing it together from what I could pick up from gossip and what I could remember.

  There were tensions in the household. Jeremy had what were known as ‘moods’ from which even Damaris could not always rouse him. Then he appeared to be very sad and it was something to do with his bad leg which had been hurt in battle and gave him pain at times. Then Damaris herself had days when she was not well. She tried to hide the fact but I could see that behind the brightness it was there.

  She longed for a child.

  One day when we were sitting together she told me she was going to have a baby. I had known something tremendous had happened because even Jeremy looked as though he was never going to have a mood again and Smith kept chuckling to himself.

  I looked forward to the coming of the baby. I would look after it, I said. I would sing it some French songs which Jeanne used to sing to me. The household buzzed with preparations. Grandmother Priscilla was constantly fussing over Damaris and Grandfather Leigh behaved as though she were made of china. Great-Grandmother Arabella was always giving advice and Great-Grandfather Carleton kept muttering ‘Women!’

  It struck me that when there was a baby I should no longer be ‘the child’; and Damaris’s own would be more dear to her than I, the adopted one, who was only her niece. That was a faintly depressing thought but I put it aside and threw myself into the general excitement.

  I shall never forget that day. Damaris started to have pains in the middle of the night. Grandmother Priscilla was at Enderby and the midwife was there too. Some of the servants from the Court had been sent over.

  I heard the commotion and got out of bed and ran to Damaris’s room. I was met by a worried Priscilla. ‘Go back to your room at once,’ she said, more sternly than she had ever spoken to me before. I obeyed, and when I went again I was told by one of the servants; ‘Get from under our feet. This is no place for you.’

  So I went back and waited in my room. I was terribly frightened, for I sensed all was not well. It was like being back in the cellar again. What was happening could mean change. I was still at that time clinging to my security.

  The waiting seemed to go on and on and when it was finally over all the joyous expectancy had gone from the house. It was dreary and sad. The baby was stillborn and Damaris was very ill. Nobody seemed to notice me. There were talks between the grandparents. This time I was not mentioned. It was all Poor Damaris and what this would mean to her. And she was desperately ill. Jeremy was sunk in gloom; there was a bitter twist to his mouth. I was sure he believed Damaris was going to die as well as the baby.

  Grandmother Priscilla was going to stay at Enderby for a while to look after her daughter. Benjie came over. He said he would take me back to Eyot Abbas, and to my chagrin no attempt was made to dissuade him from doing so.

  So I went to Eyot Abbas, there to find that same loving concentration of affection which I had known at Enderby.

  Benjie loved me dearly. He would have liked me to stay there and be his daughter. Oddly enough, when I was at Eyot Abbas memories came flooding back to me. I remembered being there and how I used to play in the gardens with my nurse in attendance. And most of all I remembered the day when Hessenfield took me away to the excitement of the ship and the hôtel, which culminated in the cold and menacing. cellar with Jeanne as my o
nly protector.

  I could not help being intrigued by Harriet, and as her husband Gregory was so gentle and kind I could have been very happy at Eyot Abbas if it had not meant leaving Damaris, with whom I had a very special relationship.

  This must have happened about the year. 1710, for I was eight years old. But I suppose what had happened to me had made me somewhat precocious. Harriet thought so, anyway.

  Harriet and I were alike in a way. We were both enormously interested in people and that meant that we learned a good deal about them.

  She was an amazing woman; she had an indestructible beauty. She must have been very old—she would never tell us how old—but the years seemed to have left her untouched. She dismissed them, and try as they might they could not encroach on her with any real effect. Her hair was dark still. ‘I will pass on the secret before I go, Clarissa,’ she said, with a smile which was as mischievous as it must have been when she was my age. In addition to this dark rippling hair she had the bluest of eyes; and if they were embedded in wrinkles, they were alive with the spirit of eternal youth.

  She took me in hand and spent a lot of time with me. She probed me, asking many questions, all about the past,

  ‘You’re old enough to know the truth about yourself,’ she said. ‘I reckon you have your eyes and ears wide open for what you can pick up, eh?’

  I admitted it. One could admit to peccadilloes with Harriet because one could be sure she would have committed them in the same position… perhaps more daring ones. Although she was old and must be respected for that, she was different from my family. When I was with her I felt that I was with someone who was as young as I was in spirit but with a vast experience of life which could be useful to me.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s better for you to know the whole truth. I reckon your dear grandmother would never whisper a word of it. I know my Priscilla—and Damaris, dear good girl, would do as her mother told her. Even your great-grandmother would never tell you, I’m sure. Dear me! It is left to poor old Harriet.’

  Then she told me that my mother had fallen in with some Jacobites at an inn, the leader of whom had been Lord Hessenfield. They fell in love and I was the result. But they were not married. There had not been time and Hessenfield had to make a speedy escape to France. I was born and Benjie had said he would be my father, so my mother was married to him. But later on Hessenfield came for my mother and me and took us to France, so poor Benjie, who had thought of himself as my father, was left lonely.

  ‘You must be particularly kind to Benjie,’ said Harriet.

  ‘I will,’ I assured her.

  ‘Poor Benjie. He must marry again and forget your mother. But she was so beautiful, Clarissa.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Of course you know. But she brought little happiness to herself or to others.’

  ‘She did to Hessenfield.’

  ‘Ah… two of a kind. Your parents, dear Clarissa, were unusual people. They were rare people. How fortunate you are to have had such parents. I wonder if you will grow up like them. If you do, you will have to take care. You must curb your recklessness. You must think before you act. I always did, and look what it has brought me. This lovely house, a good man, the dearest son in the world. What a lovely way to spend one’s old age! But I wasn’t born to it, Clarissa. I worked for it… I worked every inch of the way. It’s the best in the end. Dearest child, you have every chance of a good life. You have lost your parents but you have a family to love you. And now you know the truth about yourself you must be happy. I was. Be bold but not reckless. Take adventure when it comes but be sure that you never act rashly. I know. I have lived a long time and proved how to be happy. That’s the best thing in the world, Clarissa. Happiness.’

  I used to sit with her and listen to her talking, which was fascinating. She told me a great deal about the past and her stage life and how she had first met my Great-Grandmother Arabella in the days just before the Restoration of Charles the Second. She could talk so vividly, acting as she went along, and she told me more about my family during that brief visit than I had ever heard before.

  She was right. It was good for me to know. I think in a way it was a beginning of the slackening of my need for security. When I heard what had happened to members of my family—there was nothing much Harriet could tell me of my father—that craving for security began to leave me.

  I was already feeling out for independence. But, of course, I was only eight years old at this time.

  One day Harriet called to me. There was a letter in her hand.

  ‘A message from your grandmother,’ she said. ‘She wants you back at Enderby. Damaris is recovering and missing you.’ Your little visit is at an end. We cannot ignore this—much as we should like to. It has made me very happy to have you here, my dear, and Benjie has been delighted. He will be sad when you go, but as your grandmother—and also your great-grandmother—has reminded me on several occasions, it was Damaris who brought you from France and Damaris who has first claim. How does it feel, Clarissa, to be in such demand? Never mind. Don’t tell me. I know. And you hate to leave us, but you want to see your dear Damaris… and, what is more important, Damaris wants you.’

  So the visit was over. I did want to see Damaris, of course, but I was loath to leave Harriet, Gregory and Benjie. I loved Eyot Abbas too, and I was sadly thinking that there would be no more trips to the island which I could see from my bedroom window. I was torn between Enderby and Eyot Abbas. Once again I was conscious of that surfeit of affection.

  Harriet said: ‘Gregory, Benjie and I will take you back. We’ll take the coach. It will give us a little more time together.’

  The thought of a journey in Gregory’s coach delighted me. It was such a splendid vehicle. It had four wheels and a door on each side. Our baggage was carried in saddle-bags on horses as there was no room for it in the coach. Two grooms would accompany us—one to drive the horses and the other to ride behind, while they changed places every now and then to share the driving.

  It was a leisurely journey and very enjoyable, with stops at the inns on the way. It stirred vague memories in me. I had ridden in this coach before. That was when I was very young. It was the first time I had seen Hessenfield. He had played at being a highwayman and stopped the coach. As I sat looking out of the window while we jogged along, pictures flashed in and out of my mind. Hessenfield in a mask, stopping the coach, ordering us to get out, kissing my mother and then kissing me. I had not been afraid. I had sensed that my mother was not either. I gave the highwayman the tail of my sugar mouse. Then he rode off and it was not until he carried me away from Eyot Abbas and out to the ship that I saw him again.

  I felt drowsy in the coach. Harriet and Gregory were dozing too. Next to Gregory sat Benjie and every now and then he would catch my eye and smile. He looked very sad because I was going. I thought then: If you were Hessenfield, you would not let me go. He carried me away to a big ship…

  I compared everyone with Hessenfield. He had been taller in stature than anyone else. He had towered above them in every way. I was sure that if he had lived he would have put King James on the throne.

  We were travelling slowly because the roads were dangerous. There had been heavy rain recently and every now and then we would splash through the puddles of water. I thought it was amusing to see the water splashing out and I laughed.

  ‘Not so pleasant for poor old Merry,’ said Benjie. Merry was driving at that moment. He had a lugubrious face, rather like a bloodhound. I thought it funny that he had a name like Merry and laughed whenever I heard it. ‘One of nature’s little jokes,’ said Harriet.

  Suddenly there was a jolt. The coach stopped. Gregory opened his eyes with a start and Harriet said: ‘What’s happened?’

  The two men got out. I looked out of the window and saw them staring down at the wheels. Gregory put his head inside the coach. ‘We’re stuck in a gully at the side of the road,’ he said. ‘It’ll take a little time to get us out.’
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br />   ‘I hope not too long,’ replied Harriet. ‘In an hour or so it will be dark.’

  ‘We’ll get to work on it,’ Gregory told her. He was so proud of his coach and hated anything to go wrong with it. ‘It’s this weather,’ he went on. ‘The roads are in a dreadful state.’

  Harriet looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. ‘We must settle down to wait,’ she said. ‘Not too long, I hope. Are you looking forward to a nice warm inn parlour? What would you like to eat? Hot soup first? The sucking pig? The partridge pie?’

  Harriet always made you feel you were doing what she was talking about. I could taste the sweet syllabub and the heart-shaped marchpane.

  She said: ‘You rode in this coach long ago, remember, Clarissa?’

  I nodded.

  ‘There was a highwayman,’ she went on.

  ‘It was Hessenfield. He was playing a joke. He wasn’t a highwayman really.’

  I felt the tears in my eyes because he was gone for ever and I should never see him again.

  ‘He was a man, wasn’t he?’ said Harriet quietly.

  I knew what she meant and I thought: There will never be anyone like Hessenfield. Then it occurred to me that it was a pity there had to be such wonderful people in the world, because compared with them everyone else seemed lacking. Of course it would not be a pity if they did not die and go away for ever.

  Harriet leaned towards me and said quietly: ‘When people die they sometimes seem so much better than when they were alive.’

  I was pondering this when Gregory put his head inside the coach again. ‘Another ten minutes and we should be on our way,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ cried Harriet. ‘Then we’ll reach the Boar’s Head before it’s really dark.’

  ‘We’re lucky to get clear. The roads are in a shocking state,’ replied Gregory.

  A little later he and Benjie were taking their seats in the coach and the horses, after their little rest, were quite frisky and soon bowling along at a good pace.