Zipporah's Daughter Read online

  ‘Still very young, and what is it … two or more years away?’

  I sighed. ‘We shall have to wait till then, and when I am fourteen nothing—just nothing—is going to stop me.’

  ‘Perhaps then no one will want to.’

  ‘Oh yes, my mother will. I tell you she hates Dickon. She says he wants Eversleigh, not me. Oh, you don’t know. But Eversleigh belongs to my mother. It was left to her, you see, and I am her only child therefore presumably it would come to me in time. That’s why, she says, Dickon wants to marry me.’

  ‘And you, what do you think?’

  ‘I know he wants Eversleigh. He is managing Clavering at the moment, but it is not nearly as big as this place. He says that when we are married he will come to Eversleigh. It is all very natural, isn’t it? He’s ambitious. I shouldn’t want him to be otherwise.’

  ‘And your mother thinks that, but for Eversleigh, he would not wish to marry you.’

  ‘That’s what she says.’

  ‘And,’ he added, looking at me quizzically, ‘there is no way of finding out.’

  ‘I don’t want to find out. Why shouldn’t he want Eversleigh? I know it has a part to play in his wanting me. How could it be otherwise? To like someone because they own a house is no different from liking someone because they have pretty hair or eyes.’

  ‘I think it might be considered rather different. The eyes and hair are part of a person … a house is not.’

  ‘Well, never mind about that. I am going to marry Dickon.’

  ‘And I can see that you are a young lady of great determination.’

  ‘I wish you could persuade my mother. After all … you are a member of the family now, aren’t you? As my father, you should have a say in the matter, though I warn you nobody’s say is going to have any effect on me.’

  ‘I can well believe that, and as an only recently recognized member of the family circle and one whose right to his daughter’s regard is as yet fragile, I would not venture to attempt to persuade her. I could only offer advice, and advice, as we know, even if we listen to it, is something we only take when it agrees with what we intend to do. So I will only say to you what I would to anyone with a problem and that is: wait and see what happens.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Until you are of an age to marry.’

  ‘And if it is really Eversleigh he wants?’

  ‘You have said that you know he does.’

  ‘But more than me, I mean.’

  ‘The only way to find out is for your mother to leave Eversleigh to someone else and then see if he wants you.’

  ‘She would have to leave it in the family.’

  ‘No doubt some long-lost relative will appear.’

  ‘Dickon is a member of the family. My Uncle Carl wouldn’t leave it to him because his father was what he called “a damned Jacobite”. Uncle was a trifle illogical because my mother’s grandfather was one too. But perhaps he felt that wasn’t so bad, being a generation earlier.’

  ‘It brings us all back to the golden rule. Wait and see. And after all, my dearest Lottie, when you consider the facts there is little else you can do.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m too young to know my own mind … which is what my mother says.’

  ‘I think you are mature enough to know exactly what you want from life. I’ll tell you another golden rule. Take it, if you must, but when the reckoning comes, pay up cheerfully. It’s the only way to live.’

  I looked at him steadily and said: ‘I’m glad you came back. I’m glad to know the truth. I’m glad you’re my father.’

  A smile of satisfaction spread across his face. There was nothing sentimental about my new father. Jean-Louis’s eyes would have filled with tears if I had said anything like that to him.

  My father said: ‘This is the time to offer my invitation. I shall have to leave shortly. Will you come back with me … for a little visit? I should love to show you something of my country.’

  I was proud to travel with him and revel in that special treatment he received wherever he went. He was rich and powerful in his own country, of course, but he had a natural air of distinction which was not lost on those whom we encountered. He commanded the best service naturally as though it were his right, and people presumed it was and gave it to him unquestioningly.

  A new world was opening to me and I realized how quietly we had lived in the country. True, there had been the occasional visits to London, but they had been few and I had never been to Court, though I believed our Court, presided over by good but homely King George and his plain consort Queen Charlotte, was very different from that of the profligate Louis XV of France. It was a cynical commentary on life that the virtuous—and none could deny our King and Queen were that—should be jeered at while the immoral—and Louis XV’s Court was undoubtedly that—should be admired. Well, perhaps not exactly admired, but considered interesting and a good place to be in.

  My new father was determined to enchant me, to lure me, as I see now, to an appreciation of his country and his way of life. And I was willing enough to be charmed.

  We took the journey to Aubigné fairly slowly, breaking our journey at night in delightful inns. The Comte proudly called me his daughter and I shone in reflected glory.

  ‘We shall visit Paris and perhaps Versailles later,’ he said. ‘I shall not let you go until you have seen a great deal of my country.’

  I smiled happily. None could have been more eager to see than I.

  He was delighted with my prowess on horseback, for he said it was a more interesting way of travelling than by coach. They were golden days, riding side by side with him, still marvelling at the fact that he was my father, still feeling twinges of remorse that I should be so pleased about it, chattering away blithely with less restraint than I showed towards my own mother or ever had to Jean-Louis. The reason was, I suppose, that the Comte was a man of the world and his attitude towards me was that I was aware of the basic facts of life. He implied that he saw no reason for attempting to protect me from what a person of my intelligence must already know. It made it easy for me to talk to him about Dickon. He seemed to understand my feelings and never insulted me by suggesting that I could not feel as deeply as I said I did because I was too young. I felt no longer a child in his company and that was one of the reasons why I enjoyed being with him so much.

  It was not until we were in France that he told me of his family and whom I should meet. Strangely enough, until that time I had not thought of his having a family. He had talked so much about his life at Court, and I could not imagine him in the heart of domesticity.

  He began: ‘My daughter Sophie would be a year or so older than you. I hope you will be friends.’

  ‘Your daughter!’ I cried as the realization dawned upon me. ‘Why … she is my sister!’

  ‘Half-sister,’ he corrected. ‘Her mother died five years ago. She is a good girl. She will become your friend, I am sure. In fact, I shall insist that she does.’

  ‘A sister …’ I murmured. ‘I do hope she likes me. All your insistence won’t be able to make her if she doesn’t.’

  ‘She has been brought up to obey … a little more strictly, I imagine, than you have been.’

  ‘Sophie,’ I murmured. ‘How interesting. Oh, I do look forward to seeing her.’

  ‘I want you to be prepared for our household. I also have a son, Armand, Vicomte de Graffont. Graffont is a small estate we have in the Dordogne district. Armand will, of course, have my title when I die. He is five years older than Sophie.’

  ‘So … I have a brother, too. How exciting! I wonder how many people have families they don’t know about.’

  ‘Thousands. Life is not always lived to a regular pattern, you know. I suppose almost everyone has a secret tucked away somewhere.’

  ‘It is fascinating. Oh, I do so long to meet them. Will they be at the château or in Paris?’

  ‘Sophie will be at the château with her governess. I cannot speak for
Armand. He leads his own life.’

  ‘It sounds so interesting.’

  ‘I trust you will find it so.’

  ‘I am so excited. It grows more fascinating every minute. First a new father … and now a sister and brother. Are there any more relations?’

  ‘Distant ones who won’t concern you. That is all my immediate family circle.’

  I was so excited I scarcely noticed the countryside. We had come to France by way of Le Havre and travelled to Elboeuf and then spent a night at Evreux, the capital of Eure, in which province the Château d’Aubigné was situated.

  When we reached Evreux, the Comte sent two of the grooms on to the château to warn them of our coming, and very soon we were making our way southwards, for, said the Comte, now that he was so near home he had an irresistible urge to be there.

  As we approached, I had my first glimpse of the castle, which was set on a slight incline; built of grey stone it was overpoweringly intimidating with its buttresses and corbelled watch-towers. I gazed in wonder at the imposing edifice with its pepperpot-like roofs on either side of the gatehouse.

  The Comte saw how impressed I was and said: ‘I am gratified. I think you like my château. Of course it is no longer as it was originally. Once it was just a fortress. What you see now is as it became in the sixteenth century, which was when French architecture was at its best.’

  Dusk was falling and in the half light the château looked mysterious, almost forbidding, and excited as I was when I rode into the courtyard, I felt a sudden shiver of apprehension as though I was being warned of a certain menace.

  ‘In the morning I will show you the inside of the chateau myself,’ said the Comte. ‘I am afraid you will find me rather boastful and over-proud.’

  ‘Anyone would be,’ I told him.

  ‘Well, it is your family now, Lottie,’ he replied.

  I stood in the hall with the Comte beside me, his hand on my shoulder while he watched me closely to see the effect his home was having on me. Needless to say, I was overcome with mixed emotions. It was so grand, so redolent of the past; I could believe that I had stepped into another century; there was a pride in my knowledge that I belonged to the people who had lived here for centuries, and after what had happened to me I was prepared for anything. But there was that. faint feeling of unease which persisted and which I could not understand.

  I looked at the ancient walls hung with tapestries depicting what appeared to be scenes of battle, and where there was not tapestry there were gleaming weapons; several suits of armour stood in darkened corners like watching sentinels and I could easily have convinced myself that they moved and that there was something here in this hall which was assessing me in the same way as I was this house. On the long oak table were two candelabra—one at each end—and the candles threw flickering light on the vaulted ceiling.

  A man came hurrying into the hall; he looked very important in his blue and green livery with heavy brass buttons. He greeted the Comte obsequiously.

  ‘Everything is prepared, Monsieur le Comte,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ said my father. ‘Does the Vicomte know I have returned?’

  ‘Monsieur le Vicomte was out hunting when your messengers arrived. He had not yet returned.’

  The Comte nodded. ‘Mademoiselle Sophie …’

  ‘I will send someone to her apartment, Monsieur le Comte.’

  ‘Do so, with all speed.’

  The man disappeared and the Comte turned to me.

  ‘It is best for you to meet Sophie first. She can make sure that everything is all right.’

  ‘What will they say when they know?’

  He looked at me questioningly and I went on: ‘When they know who I am … our relationship.’

  He smiled blandly. ‘My dear child, it is not for anyone to question my actions.’

  At that moment I had my first glimpse of Sophie.

  She was coming down the beautiful staircase which was at one end of the hall. I studied her eagerly. There was no physical resemblance between us whatsoever. She was short in stature with dark brown hair and olive skin. She was certainly not very pretty—in fact she was what kindly people call homely and those less kind call plain. She was overweight and too dumpy to be attractive, and her blue gown with its tightly laced bodice and large hooped skirt, which stood out round her like a bell, did nothing for her.

  ‘Sophie, my dear,’ said the Comte, ‘I want you to come here and meet Lottie …’

  She came forward hesitantly. I guessed she was greatly in awe of her father.’

  ‘I want to explain to you about Lottie … She is going to stay with us for a visit and you are to make sure she is comfortable while she is with us. I have something very important to tell you about her. She is your sister.’

  Sophie’s jaw dropped a little. She was astonished and that did not surprise me.

  ‘We have just discovered each other. Now, Sophie, what have you got to say?’

  Poor Sophie! She stammered and looked as though she were going to burst into tears.

  I said: ‘I am very pleased to have a sister. I always wanted one. It’s like a miracle to me.’

  ‘There, Sophie, listen to your sister,’ said the Comte. ‘I am sure you feel the same. You will get to know each other in the next few days. In the meantime, Lottie is tired. She wants to get out of her riding habit and wash, I dare say. Sophie, you know where she is sleeping. Take her there and make sure she has everything she wants.’

  ‘Yes, Papa,’ said Sophie.

  ‘A room has been prepared for her?’

  ‘Yes, Papa, the grooms said you were bringing a young lady.’

  ‘All is well, then. Lottie, go up with Sophie. She will show you the way.’

  I felt sorry for Sophie. I said: ‘I shall have to learn to find my way about the château. It’s vast, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is large,’ she agreed.

  ‘Take her up then,’ said the Comte, ‘and when she is ready bring her down, and we will eat then. Journeys make one hungry.’

  ‘Yes, Papa,’ said Sophie quietly.

  He laid his hand on my arm. ‘You and Sophie must be friends,’ he said. I glanced at Sophie and guessed that for her that was a command. I did not take such commands. But I did want to make the acquaintance of my sister. I wanted to be friends, but we should only be so if friendship came naturally; and at the moment I could not tell what she was thinking of me.

  ‘Please come with me,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied and was glad that Jean-Louis had taught me French. His mother had been French and although he was very young when she left him, he had a natural aptitude and had kept it by reading in that language; and he taught me to speak and write it. My mother had been eager for this. I saw now that it was because my real father was French. This now enabled me to converse easily with Sophie.

  I followed her up the staircase and finally we came to my room. It was very grand, with a four-poster bed, the curtains of which were moss green with a tracery of gold thread; they matched those at the windows and the colours were brought out in the Aubusson carpets which added such luxury to the room.

  ‘I hope you will be comfortable,’ said Sophie formally. ‘Here is the ruelle where you will make your toilette.’

  This was a curtained-off alcove in which was all that was needed for my comfort.

  ‘The saddle horses had already come with your baggage. It has been put here.’

  I had an idea that she was trying to act as normally as possible to hide her astonishment at the revelation of our relationship.

  I wanted to know how she felt and I couldn’t resist asking: ‘What did you think when your father told you who I was?’

  She lowered her eyes and fumbled for words, and I was suddenly sorry for her because she seemed afraid of life—something I promised myself I would never be—and she was also afraid of her father with whom I had quickly become on easy terms.

  I tried to help her. ‘It must hav
e been a great shock to you.’

  ‘That you should exist?’ she said. ‘Well … no … These things happen. That he should bring you to the castle and introduce you like that’ she lifted her shoulders ‘well, yes. I was a little surprised because …’

  ‘Because I have only come on a short visit?’

  ‘That’s what I mean. If you had been going to live here with us …’

  She paused. She had an irritating habit of not finishing her sentences; but perhaps that was due to the shock she had received. She was right. As I was merely a visitor I could have been introduced as such at first and then if the Comte wanted to break the news of our relationship he might have done so less abruptly.

  ‘I find it all wonderfully exciting,’ I said. ‘To find I have a sister is so thrilling.’

  She looked at me rather bashfully and said: ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

  At that moment the door opened and a face appeared.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Lisette,’ said Sophie. ‘I might have guessed.

  A girl came into the room. She could not have been much older than I—a year or two at the most. She was very pretty with fair curling hair and sparkling blue eyes.

  ‘So she is here …’ Lisette tiptoed into the room and surveyed me.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You’re beautiful.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘I am delighted to be able to return the compliment.’

  ‘You speak … prettily. Doesn’t she, Sophie? Not quite French but none the worse for that. Is that your first visit to France?’

  ‘Yes.’ I looked from her to Sophie. ‘Who are you?’

  The girl answered: ‘Lisette. I live here. I am the niece of Madame la Gouvernante, the Femme de Charge. La Tante Berthe is a very important lady, is she not, Sophie?’

  Sophie nodded.

  ‘I have been here since I was six years old,’ went on Lisette. ‘I am now fourteen. The Comte is very fond of me. I take lessons with Sophie and although I am merely the niece of La Gouvernante I am an honoured member of the household.’

  ‘I am delighted to meet you.’

  ‘You are very young to be a friend of the Comte. But they say the King sets the fashion and we all know how it is at Versailles.’