The Landower Legacy

THE REVENGE

When I arrived in London there was a great deal of excitement over the coming wedding of the Duke of York to Princess Mary of Teck, who had been betrothed to the Duke’s brother, Clarence.

Everyone was talking about the “love match” which had been switched to the living prince when his elder brother had died—some with innocent conviction, others with wily cynicism.

But whatever they felt, everyone was determined to make the most of the royal occasion, and London was crowded with visitors and the street vendors were already out in force to sell their souvenirs of the wedding.

I could never enter the house without a certain emotion. So much of my childhood was wrapped up in it. Miss Bell met me at once.

She said: “I’m glad you’ve come, Caroline. Olivia is longing to see you. You will find her changed a little.”

“Changed?”

“She has had a bad time during her pregnancy. It was too soon.”

“Well, it will soon be over now. The baby is due.”

“Any time now.”

“Shall I go straight to her?”

“That would be the best. You can go to your room after … your old room, of course. Lady Carey is in the house.”

I grimaced.

“She has been here for some weeks. So has the midwife.”

“And, er … Mr. Brandon?”

“Yes, yes. We’re all a little anxious, but we don’t want Olivia to know.”

“Is there anything wrong?”

“It is just that she didn’t really have time to recover from having Livia. It was unfortunate that it should be so soon, and I don’t think she was ever very strong … as you were. However, we’re taking great care.”

“I’ll go to her,” I said.

She was lying in her bed propped up with pillows. I was shocked by the sight of her. Her hair had lost its lustre and there were shadows under her eyes which looked bigger than usual.

They lit up with joy at the sight of me. “Caroline, you’ve come!”

I ran to her and hugged her.

“I came as soon as I could.”

“Yes, I know. It must have been terrible … Cousin Mary … and all the things that happened.”

“Yes,” I said. “It was.”

“And she has left you Tressidor.”

“I must tell you all about it.”

“You’re so clever, Caroline. I was never clever like you.”

“No … I’m not clever … very foolish often. But let’s talk about you. How is my goddaughter?”

“Asleep now, I fancy. Nanny Loman is in charge and Miss Bell, of course.”

“I saw Miss Bell as I came in.” I looked at her anxiously. She was in the last stages of pregnancy and I knew that women change at such times, but should her skin look so waxy, her eyes so enormous with that haunted expression in them. My concern for her was making me forget my grief at the loss of Cousin Mary.

“You must be exhausted after your journey.”

“Not a bit. Just a little grubby.”

“You look wonderful. I always forget how green your eyes are and when I see them they startle me. Caroline, you won’t hurry away, will you?”

“Oh no. I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Go to your room now … wash and change. I am sure you want to, and we’ll have supper together up here.”

“That would be lovely.”

“All right. Go now, but come back soon. I’ve such lots to say to you.”

I left her and went to the room I knew so well. I unpacked my case and washed in the hot water which had been brought up. I changed and went back to Olivia.

“Come and sit by my bed,” she said.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come before. I was all ready to depart and there was the accident …”

“Yes, I know. It’s just that I’m worried.”

I looked at her steadily and said: “Yes, I gathered that you were.”

“It’s about Livia.”

“What about her?”

“I want to know that she’s all right.”

“Is there anything wrong with her?”

“No. She’s a healthy, lively child. There’s nothing wrong with her. I just wanted to make sure that if anything happened to me she’d be all right.”

“What do you mean … anything happened to you?”

A terrible fear was clutching at my heart. I had just come face to face with death. I did not want to meet it again … ever.

“I just meant that … if anything happened to me.”

I was angry suddenly, not with her, but with fate. I said: “When people use that expression they mean Death. Why don’t they say what they mean?”

“Oh, Caroline, you are so vehement. You always were. You’re right though. I mean I’m worried that if I died … what would happen to Livia?”

“How absurd to talk about dying. You’re young. There’s nothing wrong. People have babies every day.”

“Don’t be angry. I just want your assurance. You’re her godmother. I should want you to take her. Now that you own all that property … now you’re a rich woman … you could do it. In any case I would have made provisions for her … and for you … so that you could be together. I’ve had it all done by the solicitors, but I’m glad you’re rich now, for your own sake.”

“Is that what you wanted to say to me?”

She nodded.

I was dumbfounded. I had known there was something, but I had thought it was Jeremy’s extravagances. This was quite unexpected.

“Oh, Olivia, what gave you this idea?”

“Childbearing is an ordeal. I just thought …”

“Don’t hedge with me,” I said sternly. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’ve had a bad time, Caroline. They say it shouldn’t have happened … so soon. I’ve spent most of the time in bed. I just have a feeling that something is going to happen … I mean that I might die.”

“Olivia, that’s no way to face all this.”

“I thought you believed in facing up to reality.”

“But what makes you say this?”

She touched her breast and said: “Something in here.”

I stared at her in dismay and she went on: “I wouldn’t have any qualms about leaving Livia to you. I have complete confidence in you. You’d be better for her than I …”

“Nonsense. No one’s as good as a mother.”

“I don’t think that is always so. I’m too tired to be with her. I’m soft and foolish. You’d be better for her and you would love her too. She is very lovable.”

“Stop it,” I cried. “I won’t listen. All this talk of death is silly. I’ve had enough of death. I’ve lost someone very dear to me. I won’t consider losing another.”

“Oh, Caroline, I’m so glad you’ve come and we won’t talk about it any more. Just give me your word. You will take Livia, won’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk of such …”

“Promise and I’ll say no more.”

“Well, of course, I would.”

She took my hand and pressed it. “I feel contented now. Tell me about Cornwall. Not about the funeral but after and before all that. All those people … Jago and Paul Landower and the man with the bees.”

I sat by her bed talking. I tried to be amusing. It was not easy, because when I thought of the light-hearted days before Cousin Mary’s death I was reminded forcibly that she was no longer there.

But Olivia delighted in my presence and that comforted me. We had a little supper in her room and when her face was animated she looked more like her old self.

I said goodnight to her and went down to see Aunt Imogen who was asking for me.

She greeted me with a little more respect than I remembered before and she looked less formidable than she had in the past. Whether this was because she was getting older or because I was a person of consequence now, I was not sure. Uncle Harold was with her—self-effacing as ever and very cordial.

“How are you, Caroline?” asked Aunt Imogen. “You must be very pleased with the way everything has turned out.”

“I am still mourning Cousin Mary,” I reminded her coldly.

“Yes, yes, of course. So you have become a very rich woman.”

“I suppose so.”

Uncle Harold said: “I believe that you and Cousin Mary were very fond of each other.”

I smiled at him and nodded.

“She was a forthright woman,” he said.

“She had no right to Tressidor, and of course it should have come to me,” said Aunt Imogen. “I am the next of kin. I could, of course, contest the will.”

Uncle Harold began: “No, Imogen. You know …”

“I could contest the will,” she repeated. “But well … we have decided to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“It was Cousin Mary’s wish that I should inherit,” I said. “She taught me a great deal about the management of the estate.”

“It seems wrong for a woman,” put in Aunt Imogen.

“For you too then?” I asked.

“I have a husband.”

Poor Uncle Harold! He looked at me apologetically.

“I can assure you, Aunt Imogen, that the estate, far from suffering under the management of Cousin Mary, improved considerably. I intend that it shall continue to do so under mine.”

I thought Uncle Harold was going to break into applause, but he remembered the presence of Aunt Imogen in time.

I said: “I am anxious about Olivia. She does not seem well.”

“She is in a delicate condition,” Aunt Imogen reminded me.

“Even so, she seems rather weak.”

“She was never strong.”

“Where is her husband?”

“He will be here soon, I imagine.”

“Is he out every night?”

“He has business.”

“I should have thought he would have wanted to be with his wife at such a time.”

“My dear Caroline,” said Aunt Imogen with a little laugh, “you have lived with Cousin Mary, a spinster, and you are one yourself. Such do not know very much about the ways of husbands.”

“But I do know something about the consideration of one human being towards another.”

I enjoyed sparring with Aunt Imogen and having Uncle Harold looking on like some referee who would like to give the points to me if he dared.

Her attitude towards me amused me. She disapproved of me, but as a woman of property I had risen considerably in her estimation; and although she deplored the fact that I had taken Tressidor from its rightful owner, she admired me for doing so.

But I could see that I should not get any real understanding of Olivia’s state of health from her, and I decided that in the morning I would question Miss Bell.

I retired to bed soon after that, but I did not expect to sleep.

I could not throw off my melancholy.

I had just emerged from the tragedy of Cousin Mary’s death to be presented with the possibility of Olivia’s. But she had let her imagination run on, I tried to assure myself. She just had pre-confinement nerves, if there were such things, and I was sure there were. To face such an ordeal so soon after having gone through the whole thing such a short while before was enough to frighten anyone … especially someone as nervous as Olivia.

I tossed and turned and found myself going through all the drama of Cousin Mary’s accident, and then coming back to Olivia.

It was a wretched night.

In the morning I came face to face with Jeremy. He looked as debonair as ever.

“Why, Caroline,” he cried, “how wonderful to see you!”

“How are you?” I replied coldly, implying that the question was merely rhetorical and that I had no interest in the answer.

“Much the same as ever. And you?”

“The same. I wish I could say that of Olivia.”

“Oh well, in the circumstances … She’ll be all right.”

“I feel uneasy about her.”

“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know much about these occasions, would you?”

“No. But I do know when people look ill.”

He smiled at me. “It is so sweet of you to concern yourself. Congratulations by the way.”

“On what?”

“On your inheritance, of course. What an extraordinary thing! Who would have thought …”

“Certainly not you. I confess it was a surprise to me.”

“To fall right into your lap like that.”

His eyes were shining with admiration as they looked at me and I was carried right back to the days of our courtship. With the aura of affluence I now must look as desirable to him as I had then when he had thought of my fortune as well as my person.

“Cousin Mary and I were very close to each other,” I said. “Her death has been a great blow to me.”

“Of course.” His expression changed; now he was all concern and sympathy. “A great tragedy. Riding accident, wasn’t it? I do feel for you, Caroline.”

He was adept at expressing emotion. His face fitted into the right lines. Now he was very sympathetic, but in my newly acquired wisdom I saw the acquisitive lights shining through.

It amused me to think that he was contemplating my fortune and I wondered how Olivia’s was faring in his hands.

“I hear you enjoy the gaming tables,” I said maliciously.

“How did you hear this?”

“Oh, I have friends.”

“You heard that in Cornwall!”

“No. Well, visitors from London, you know.”

“Oh.” He was puzzled. “Who doesn’t like a flutter? I could take you along while you are here.”

“It is not the sort of thing that appeals to me. I like to keep what I have.”

“You could add to it.”

“I might not have that success and I should not care very much if I won and on the other hand I should hate to lose. You see, I should be a very poor gambler.”

“All the same, I’d like you to come along … just for once.”

“I’m here to see Olivia. I shouldn’t have time. I shan’t be able to stay very long.”

“No. You have your responsibilities. Shall you keep the estate?”

“What do you mean?”

“I wondered if you might sell out and come back to London.”

“The whole point of my having it is for me to carry on as before.”

“Well, who knows? I’m so glad you’re here, Caroline. I have been thinking a lot about you.”

“I am sure you have been … when you heard of my inheritance.”

“I always did.”

“Well, I must go now to Olivia.”

I passed on. And I thought: He hasn’t changed. He is very good-looking, very charming—and very interested in my inheritance.

A few days passed and I was with Olivia most of the time. I found comfort being with her as this took me away from memories of Cousin Mary’s death. I found I could laugh a little. She was very interested in Jamie McGill and asked many questions about him. I tried to remember all I could of his eccentric ways and I talked at some length about the bees and the animals he looked after.

She said: “How I should love to see him.”

“You shall come down and stay … you and Livia and the new baby. You shall spend the whole of the summer there. Why not? It’s mine now. Not that Cousin Mary wouldn’t have welcomed you.”

“Oh, I should like that, Caroline.”

Then I talked about what we would do. I told her of the old mine and the legends about it and how it was said to be haunted. “We’d ride out to it, Olivia. You’d love the moor. It’s wild … in a way, untamed. I suppose it is because it can’t be cultivated … the stones, and the little streams and the gorse and all the Cornish legends—knackers and piskies and ghosts. We’d have a wonderful time. Oh, Olivia, you are going to come. Perhaps I’ll take you back with me.”

“I should love it, Caroline.”

“What about your husband?” I looked at her sharply. I had scarcely mentioned him since my arrival. Nor had she. Perhaps she thought that as I had once nearly married him, he was not a subject I should care to discuss.

“Oh, Jeremy … he wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.”

“He wouldn’t want to lose his family, would he?”

“He’d be all right.”

“Perhaps he would want to come, too.”

“Oh … he’s not really a country person.”

No, I thought. He likes the gaiety of town, the gaming clubs, the hostesses … Oh, definitely not a country person.

I went on planning what we should do. “Too late for the midsummer bonfires,” I said. “Well, that’s for next year. You’re going to make an annual thing of your visits, you know.”

Nanny Loman brought in Livia and she and I played on the floor together. Olivia watched us with shining eyes.

“You’re better with her than I am,” she said. “Well, I suppose all the time she’s been growing up I’ve been pregnant.”

“You’ll feel better soon. The Cornish air will work wonders. There’s a little boy … The Landowers’ … I’m rather fond of him. He’ll be a playmate for Livia.”

“I long for it, Caroline.”

“It’s something to look forward to.”

When I was alone with Miss Bell, she said to me: “Olivia has been much better since you came.”

“I’m worried about her,” I replied.

She nodded. “Yes. She is far from well. She was never as strong as you were and she suffered a lot with Livia. This was too soon … too soon.” She pursed her lips and put her head a little on one side. I knew she was expressing disapproval of Jeremy and I wondered what she knew. I resisted the temptation to ask for I was sure she would consider it was disloyal to discuss her employer; and being Miss Bell, with ingrained ideas of the supremacy of the male, she would doubtless consider Jeremy, rather than Olivia, her employer.

A few days later Olivia’s pains started and the household was in a turmoil. Her labour was long and arduous and I was in a state of deep anxiety.

Miss Bell and I sat together waiting for news. I felt very melancholy. I kept thinking of Cousin Mary and how quickly death can take away.

I was trembling with anxiety and the hours of waiting seemed like an eternity.

At last the child was born—stillborn. I felt myself enveloped in terrible depression for Olivia was very seriously ill.

I could not rest. I went to see her. She looked—pale and hardly aware of anything. She did open her eyes and smile at me.

“Caroline.” She did not exactly speak but her lips shaped the words. “Remember.”

I sat beside her for a while until she appeared to be sleeping. I tiptoed out and went to my room because the sight of her so wan, so lost to the world, was hard for me to bear.

I did not undress. I sat there with my door open—for my room was next to hers and I had a feeling that she might wish to see me, and if she did I wanted to know and be there.

It was past midnight and the house was quiet. I could not resist the impulse to go to her. It was almost as though she were calling me.

She was lying on her bed, her eyes open. She looked at me and smiled.

“Caroline …”

I went to the bed, sat down and took her hand.

“You came …” she said.

“Yes, dear sister, I’m here.”

“Stay. Remember …”

“Yes, I’ll stay and I’ll remember. You’re worried about Livia. There’s no need. If it were necessary I would take her. She would be as my own.”

She moved her head slightly and smiled.

We sat there for some time in silence.

Then she said: “I’m dying, Caroline.”

“No … no … You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “The baby died. He’ll never know anything. He died before he was born.”

“It happens now and then,” I said. “You’ll have more … healthy ones. All will be well.”

“No more … never again. Livia …”

“Livia is all right. If … it happened, I will take her. She’d be mine.”

“I’m happy now. I’m not sorry …”

“Olivia, you’ve got to think of living. There’s so much to live for.”

She shook her head.

“Your child … your husband …”

“You’ll take Livia. Him …”

I put my face close to her lips.

“He … the money …”

I thought, Rosie was right. And Olivia knows.

“Don’t worry about money.”

“Debts,” she whispered. “I hate debts.”

“You haven’t anything to worry about. You’ve got to get well.”

“Flora … Flora Carnaby …”

I felt sick. She knew then. Was this the reason for her apathy? Olivia had discovered the perfidy of men … just as I had. But whereas I had hated fiercely she had given up hope and looked forward to death.

As I looked at my sister I felt the old bitterness well up within me. How dared he use her like this! Take her money and waste it on gaming tables and other women. I felt an overwhelming desire to hurt him as he had hurt her.

My voice was shaking as I bent over her and spoke to her.

“Olivia, there’s nothing to worry about. Don’t think of anything but getting better. You’ve got me and I’ll look after you. You’ll come to Cornwall. You’ll meet the people who interest you so much. We’ll be together … the three of us, you, me and Livia. We’ll shut out the rest of the world. Nobody’s going to hurt you or me any more.”

She was clinging to my hand and a certain peace seemed to come into her face.

I sat there for a long time holding her hand, and I knew that my presence comforted her.

She never spoke to me again.

The doctor was at the house all next day. There was a hushed gloom everywhere. I could not believe it. Death could not strike twice so soon.

But it could. Olivia was dead. She lay white and still, her face surprisingly young, the lines of anxiety and pain wiped from it. She was the Olivia of my childhood, the sister whom I had patronized, looked down on in some ways, although she was older than I. Nevertheless I had loved her dearly.

If only she would come back, I would take her to Cornwall with me. I would make her forget her perfidious husband, her disillusion with life.

I shut myself in my room. I could not speak to anyone. I felt a deep-rooted sadness which I feared would be with me for the rest of my life.

She must have known she was going to die. I remembered the way she had spoken of death; the certainty with which she had faced it. It was why she wanted to see me; why she had been so insistent that I look after her child.

She had not wanted her to be left to the mercy of a father who might remarry someone who would not care for the child. How much did he care? Was he capable of caring for anyone but himself? Had she feared that Aunt Imogen might take the child? Poor Livia, what a life she would have had! She would be left to the care of Nanny Loman and Miss Bell—kind, worthy people—but Olivia had wanted the equivalent of a mother’s love for her daughter, and she knew there was only one place where she could be sure of that. With me.

As I realized the weight of my responsibility, my terrible melancholy lifted a little. I went to the nursery. I played with the child. I built a castle of bricks with her. I helped her totter along; I crawled on the floor with her. There was comfort there.

The funeral hatchment was placed on the outside wall as it had been at the time of Robert Tressidor’s death, and the ordeal through which I had recently passed in Cornwall had to be faced again here. There were the mutes in heavy black, the caparisoned horses, the terrible tolling of the bell and the procession from the church to the grave.

I caught a glimpse of Rosie as I went into the church. She smiled at me and I was pleased that she had come.

I walked beside Jeremy. He looked sad and every bit the inconsolable husband, and I think my contempt for him helped me to bear my own grief. I wondered cynically how deep his sufferings went and whether he was calculating how much of her fortune would be left to him.

I stood at the graveside with him still beside me and Aunt Imogen on the other side with Uncle Harold. Aunt Imogen was wiping her eyes and I asked myself how she managed to produce her tears. I myself shed none.

Back at the house there was food and drink—the funeral meats, I called them—and after that the reading of the will. Olivia’s wish that I should have the custody of her child was explained.

Everything passes, I consoled myself. Even this day will be over … soon.

There were several family conferences. Aunt Imogen usually took control. She thought it was rather unseemly for an unmarried woman to have charge of a child. What would people say? Whatever explanation was given they would think …

I said: “They may think what they will. But as it is a matter of concern to you, Aunt Imogen, let me remind you that I intend to take Livia with me to Cornwall, and if it is any consolation to you and soothes your fears, there they will all know that it is impossible for her to be my child. I was very much in evidence among them at the time of her gestation and birth, and I am sure that even the most suspicious and scandal-loving would find it very hard to explain how a young woman managed to bear a child while going about the countryside, keeping its existence a secret and somehow smuggling it to London.”

“I was thinking of your future,” said Aunt Imogen, “and however you look at it, it is unsuitable.”

All the same her protests were half-hearted, for she herself did not want to be burdened with the care of Livia.

“And another thing,” she went on, “it seems to be forgotten that Livia has a father.”

“When Olivia asked me, just before she died, she did not mention Livia’s father.”

Jeremy said: “There is no one to whom I would rather trust my daughter than to Caroline.”

“I still think it is irregular,” added Aunt Imogen.

“I shall be leaving for Cornwall very shortly,” I said firmly: “I have written asking them to prepare the nurseries there.”

“They can’t have been in use for ages,” said Aunt Imogen.

“Well, it will be pleasant to use them again. I shall take with me Nanny Loman and Miss Bell … so Livia will not find everything very different around her.”

“Then,” added Aunt Imogen, and I fancied I detected a note of relief in her voice, “there is nothing more we can do.”

I overheard her say to her husband that I had a very high opinion of myself, and I was Cousin Mary all over again. To which he replied, rather daringly, that that was perhaps not such a bad thing in view of my responsibilities. I didn’t wait to hear her comment. I was not interested in Aunt Imogen’s view of me.

I spent a great deal of the rest of my time in London with Livia. I wanted her to get used to me. She did not appear to be aware that she had lost her mother, which was a blessing. I was determined to give her a substitute in myself, in the hope that she would never really know what she had missed.

I played with her; I talked to her; she had a few words; I showed her pictures and built more castles. I crawled about the floor and I was rewarded by the smile which appeared on her little face every time I appeared.

She was helping me to overcome my grief. I did not want to think of death. It seemed to me so cruel that two loved ones should have been taken from me within a few months.

I clung to Livia as I had clung to Tressidor. Worthwhile work was the only solace I could find.

Nanny Loman and Miss Bell were eager to accompany me to Cornwall. They both thought it would be best to get right away.

“She doesn’t know her mother’s gone yet,” said Nanny Loman. “She didn’t see so much of her while she was ill … but she might remember … here. New surroundings are what she needs.”

I believed Nanny Loman was a very sensible woman; and I knew the worth of Miss Bell.

“Death in childbed,” she said, “is no uncommon occurrence, alas. Olivia should never have undergone another pregnancy so soon. It was most unfortunate.”

“She knew, I think.”

“She was not really happy towards the end,” said Miss Bell.

No, I thought, indeed she was not. She must have known he was losing money, for she had murmured something about debts. And Flora Carnaby … she knew of that too. Servants whisper, I supposed. Those things which were not intended for her ears reached her in some way. It could so easily happen.

Before I left Jeremy talked to me.

“Thank you, Caroline. Thank you for all you are doing for Livia.”

“I am doing what Olivia asked me to before she died.”

“I know.”

“She was aware that she was going to die.”

He hung his head, implying that his grief had overcome him. I was sceptical. All the old hatred I had felt for him when he had told me he did not want me without a fortune, swept back.

“I don’t think she was very happy,” I said pointedly.

“Caroline … I shall want to see my daughter sometimes.”

“Oh, shall you?”

“But, of course. Perhaps you will bring her to me … or perhaps I will come to see you.”

“It’s a very long journey,” I reminded him. “And you would find it rather dull in the country.”

“I should want to see my daughter,” he said. “Oh, Caroline, I’m so grateful to you. To be left with a young daughter … I feel so inadequate.”

“You couldn’t be expected to excel in the nursery as I am sure you do in other fields.”

“Caroline, I shall come.”

I studied him intently and thought: Oh yes, he will come.

Was that a certain gleam I detected in his eyes? Now he was looking at me as once he had before. He would see me against the background of a country mansion, and I could see that he found the picture as attractive as it had been once before against another setting—which had however proved without substance. This one was undoubtedly real.

I was amused. Oddly enough he helped to assuage my grief a little. Thinking of him and his motives made me forget for a while the memory of my sister lying cold and lifeless in her bed.

There was great excitement when I arrived in Lancarron with my nursery cavalcade. It was the talk of the place for at least a month.

People called to see the child, to hear the latest about the new arrangements at Tressidor. The nurseries were more spacious than those in the London house and although they had been cleaned and made ready there were new acquisitions needed. I plunged feverishly into the buying of new curtains and equipment, everything that was wanted for a modern nursery. To work hard all day, to go to bed tired so that I was too exhausted to brood was the best thing possible.

My life was doubly full. There were the estate matters which had fully occupied me before but now there was the child as well and I was determined to be the sort of mother to Livia that Olivia would have wished.

I had the excellent Nanny Loman and the ever watchful Miss Bell; but I wanted Livia to have a mother in me, and I spent every possible moment with her. I arranged a meeting between Nanny Loman and the guardian of Julian’s nursery, and it was fortunate that the nannies—as Nanny Loman put it—immediately took to each other. There was hardly a day when Julian was not at Tressidor, or Livia at Landower.

I saw less of Paul because when I rode out I was usually in haste on some mission or other. I had no time for dallying on the moors or in the lanes.

Jago was amused. He called me the New Woman. Caroline, the clucking hen with her one chick. He was still making mysterious trips to London and talking vaguely about machinery, and wheels within wheels and contracts which were pending.

“Why do you bother?” I asked. “We all know there is only one reason for these mysterious trips.”

“And what is that?” he asked.

“A secret woman.”

“You’ll be surprised one day,” he retorted.

I didn’t think very much about him; but I did think a great deal about Livia.

I was getting more and more fond of Julian, who was delighted by the turn of events. He looked happier and asserted himself quite vigorously and adopted a somewhat protective attitude towards Livia. I longed for a child of my own. The nursery was big. I had daydreams of seeing it full of my own sturdy little ones. But I should need a husband. Was I going to be frustrated forever?

In spite of my desire to shut him out, Paul would creep into my thoughts. He was a sad man nowadays, but he could be so different. I often thought of him as he had been when I had first seen him on the train. Powerful. In charge, that was how I had thought of him. Master of his fate. But even then he had been worried about the estate and had been returning from Plymouth where he had possibly been to arrange a loan to bolster up the old place. But he had still had his dignity then, his honour.

That marriage had been like a net around him. I dreamed that we were free. But how could we be free? Yet in my dreams some miracle happened and he was there with me at Tressidor. The two estates were as one.

What a wild dream! But dreaming has always been a consolation when one wants to escape from reality. The loss of two people whom I had loved very dearly was too hard to bear without some solace. One had brought me Tressidor, the other Livia, it was true. That was the way one must look at life. One must remember the consolations.

Gwennie came to see me often. I wished she wouldn’t. Her inquisitive eyes seemed to probe into my mind.

“What a tragedy!” she cried. “They say the number of people who die having babies is more than you’d think. Your poor sister … and she left the little girl to your care. I said to Betty” (that was the lady’s maid with whom I understood she gossiped a great deal) “I said, ‘I reckon Miss Tressidor will be a mother to that little girl. She ought to have some of her own.’ I’ve often wondered why you haven’t married, Caroline. But then, of course, it’s a matter of finding Mr. Right. If he doesn’t come along … well, what’s a girl to do?”

Her bright eyes studied me intently. What of you and my husband? I imagined she was thinking. How far has that gone?

I wondered what she knew. It was a fact that one often betrayed one’s feelings when one was quite unaware of doing so.

Time passed quickly. Livia was growing into a person. She was walking rather than stumbling; she was beginning to talk; she used to run to me every time I went to the nursery and I was thinking about getting a pony for her when she was a little older. There was some time to go but I took her for rides on my horse round the paddock, holding her tightly while she squealed with delight.

Nanny Loman said to me one day: “That child is happier than she ever was in London. Oh, I know she was young but she wasn’t getting the attention. Her mother was ill all the time. We did what we could but there’s nothing like a mother, and you’re being that, Miss Tressidor.”

It was the highest praise I could have and for a few hours my melancholy lifted and during that time I did not think of how much I missed Cousin Mary and that I should never see Olivia again.

Within a month of our arrival Jeremy wrote that he wished to see his daughter.

I could not refuse him. I made up my mind to see as little of him as possible, but when he came I felt I wanted to taunt him. I knew it was unkind of me; I knew that I should not have revelled in revenge; but I had to do it. I had to soothe my own sorrow and I could not allow him to flaunt his role of grieving husband, devoted father and would-be friend, for those were the roles he was determined to play. He was false and I could see clearly what lay behind that facade of charm; but I wanted to trick him as he had tricked me … and Olivia.

I took him riding round the estate. I spread it out before him, as it were, in all its affluence. He could not keep the excitement out of his eyes.

“I’d no idea it was so extensive,” he said.

I thought, Then you have now, my worldly Jeremy. What plans are being formulated in that greedy little mind of yours?

I took him to call on the Landowers. Gwennie liked him for he charmed her with the utmost ease. Paul was suspicious and, of course, jealous, which did not displease me.

He stayed for a week and during that period he spent a certain amount of time in the nursery. He had brought a novel toy for Livia, a doll on a swing which could be made to rock back and forth.

I was a bit hurt to see how easily she was charmed by him, but he was playing a part for her as well as for the rest of us.

When he left he held my hands for a long time and said: “How can I thank you, Caroline, for making my little girl so happy here.”

I said: “Olivia wished it. Before she died she spoke to me. She wanted to make sure that I and no one else had the child.”

“She knew what was best. Thank you, my dear. Thank you.” It could have been very touching, but I told myself I knew him too well to believe in his gratitude.

He kissed me swiftly. “I must come again,” he said. “Soon.” And I fancied I saw the plan which was beginning to form in his mind.

He did come again before another month had passed. There were more presents for Livia. He himself took her on a horse round and round the paddock. She demanded that we both hold her—one on either side.

He looked across at me. “This is fun, Caroline,” he said.

I nodded.

He was trying to make me look at him. I knew what was in his mind.

And then the plan came to me and once it had come I could not rid myself of it.

I used to think of it at night. When the melancholy descended upon me, when I was going over and over the early days with Olivia, when I remembered that Cousin Mary was gone forever, when I thought of Paul and how everything might have been different, I brooded on what I thought of as The Plan and my spirits rose.

It was an indication of my nature, I supposed, which was not a very admirable one, that this was the only thing which could assuage my grief.

He came for Christmas, which I gave over entirely to Livia. I did not entertain. It was not expected of me as Cousin Mary had not been dead a year. I told Jeremy that he should not have come. He would find it dull in the country especially in a house which was still in mourning.

He, too, was mourning, he told me, at which I wanted to laugh aloud; but I did not. I looked suitably sad and sympathetic.

I was playing my part carefully—softening, not too quickly but gradually.

We both knelt on the floor and played games with Livia. She was delighted with him—and again I felt that twinge of jealousy. Nanny Loman said: “They always feel that for a parent. No matter how neglected they are, they seem to know their father or mother. That’s when they’re very little. After four or five it changes. Then they love those that love them.”

Miss Bell was a little abrupt with him. She blamed him for Olivia’s pregnancy, which she had maintained more than once, with pursed lips, should never have been allowed to happen.

How time was passing and how glad I was that it did so with such speed! Olivia had been dead for six months and Livia had been mine for that time.

It was during that Christmas that Jeremy made his first approach —tentatively, of course, but with a skill which I would have expected of him.

He said he thought Livia was lucky in spite of having lost her mother. She had found a new one in me … and none would have guessed she was a semi-orphan.

“When I see you with her I rejoice, Caroline.”

“I do my best to carry out my promise to Olivia and it is not difficult. I love Livia.”

“I can see you do. It warms my heart. It’s a great privilege for me to be able to come here.”

“I am sure you would rather be in London.”

“How wrong you are! It is the greatest pleasure for me to be where you are, Caroline. I often think of the fancy dress ball. Do you remember?”

“Vividly,” I said.

“Cleopatra.”

“And Rupert of the Rhine.”

He looked at me, his eyes shining, and we laughed.

He was too clever to pursue it from there but I was aware of his intentions.

He said: “I shall come again … soon, Caroline. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I understand you wish to see your daughter.”

“And … you.”

I bowed my head.

He was there again before the end of January. He was no laggard once he had made up his mind on the course to take. I had to grant him that. He wrote frequently, begging for news of Livia’s progress. He was the ideal father.

In February he was with us again, facing the rather cold train journey and some delays due to ice on the line.

“What a devoted father you are!” I said when he arrived.

“Nothing would have kept me away,” he replied.

During that visit he made more steps forward.

We were on the nursery floor fitting together some simple jigsaw of animals in which Livia indulged with great delight.

He said: “This is how it should be … the three of us. It’s like a home.”

I didn’t answer and he put a hand over mine. I let it lie there. Livia leaned against him and he put his arm about her.

Before he left he found me alone in the little winter parlour and he said: “Perhaps it’s a little too soon, Caroline, but I always felt this was how it was meant to be. I am sure Olivia will understand if she can look down on us. You see … I always loved you.”

I opened my eyes wide and looked at him.

“It was a mistake,” he went on. “I realized almost as soon as I had broken it off.”

“A mistake?” I said. “I thought you showed great wisdom … pecuniary wisdom.”

“A mistake,” he went on. “I was young and ambitious … and foolish. I soon realized that. It’s different now. I’m wiser.”

“We all grow wiser, Jeremy.”

He took my hand in his and I did not remove it.

When he left I went with him to the station.

He said: “I shall be back again very soon. Caroline, you’re here in this place. It is not the life for you. You should have children. You’re so wonderful with Livia. I feel I could be a good father … when you’re around. It makes a happy little circle. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh yes,” I said.

“It’s too soon to make plans yet perhaps … but for the future … We could be happy, Caroline. It’s how it was meant to be.”

I was silent.

He construed that as agreement.

Riding back in the trap I felt more alive than I had for a long time.

It was a lovely spring. I felt my sadness was passing a little. The earth was waking to a new life—it was the buds on the trees and the song of the birds. Myself too.

I felt I might put the past behind me and I could make some sort of life for myself.

April was a lovely month. “April showers bring forth May flowers,” I quoted to myself. I was beginning to live again.

When Jeremy arrived he took both my hands in his. “You look wonderful, Caroline. Your old self. You’re Cleopatra once more.”

“One grows away from sorrow,” I said. “It’s no use nursing grief.”

“How wise you are! You were always wise, Caroline. I think I am the luckiest man on earth.”

“And you a widower of less than a year!”

“I am going to put grief behind me. That is what Olivia would wish. I know this is what she would wish.”

“It is always comforting to have the approval of the dead,” I commented.

“I think she knew … that was why she wanted you to have Livia. She was quite wise in some ways.”

“I am sure she would be most gratified, if she is looking down, at such faint praise.”

“I always liked that touch of asperity in you, Caroline.”

I was silent.

He went on: “I can’t tell you how happy I am. It is like seeing a light at the end of a tunnel.”

“A rather well-used simile,” I said.

“But so apt.”

“I suppose that is how these comparisons become cliches.”

“Why are we talking like this? There are so many more important things to discuss. I suppose we shall have to wait for a year. I do think conventions can be tiresome.”

“Very tiresome,” I agreed.

“We’ll have to have a quiet wedding. Never mind. I rather fancy we shall have the approval of Lady Carey.”

“I have never worried very much about Aunt Imogen’s approval— which is as well for it rarely came my way.”

“You’re so amusing. I can see life is going to be fun for us. Livia and I are two very lucky people.”

I smiled at him.

He went on talking of the future. He felt that the country was no place for me. There would be a great deal to clear up. He thought about making enquiries about the actual market value of great estates. He was sure he would have a very agreeable surprise for me.

I was aghast, but I merely smiled at him and he went on talking about life in London, the amusing people I must be missing.

“Dear Caroline,” he said, “you were whisked away just as life was beginning to get interesting for you. What fun that ball was! You just had a brief taste and that was all. We are going to alter that!”

I was surprised at myself. I was more silent than usual, for I could not entirely trust my tongue. I listened to him and he must have thought how much love had softened me. He preened himself a little. He was exceptionally handsome.

There was a great deal of talk in the neighbourhood. I imagined Gwennie was having a very busy time.

I gleaned a little from the servants and I could guess how tongues were wagging.

One day Paul came over to Tressidor. I was in the flower room which was just off the hall. It was a very small room, rather like the one we had had in the London house, in which there was a tap and a sink and some benches and vases.

Daffodils and narcissi which I had just gathered lay on the bench, and he walked in looking very angry.

I said: “What is wrong?”

“Is this true?” he demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to marry this man? You must be mad.”

“Marry?” I queried.

“This man who gave you up once and has now decided you are rich enough to suit him?”

“Oh … you mean Livia’s father.”

“He may be Livia’s father but he is also a fortune hunter. Can’t you see that?”

“I see a great deal, but there is one thing I fail to see and that is why it should be a concern of yours.”

“Don’t be absurd. You know it is a concern of mine. I thought you were a sensible woman. I’ve always had a great respect for your intelligence, but now …”

“You’re shouting,” I said.

“Tell me this isn’t true.”

“Tell me what you would do about it if it were?”

He looked at me helplessly. Then he said: “Caroline, you must not"

I turned away from him. I could not help the joy which came to me to see his concern and I did not want him to know how deeply it affected me. He was beside me. He took me by the shoulders and turned me round to face him. “I’d do anything … anything … to stop it.”

I put up my hand and touched his hair gently. “There isn’t anything you could do,” I said.

“I love you,” he answered. “I shall not go on like this. I shall find some way. We’ll go away together …”

“Go away! Leave Landower. That was what it was all about, wasn’t it?” ,

“I wish I could go back. What a silly thing to wish! As if one ever can. But you must not do this, Caroline. Think what it means. You’ve always been so independent, so much a person in your own right. Don’t change. Don’t give way to this. I suppose he is very attractive, isn’t he? Good-looking … saying what women want to hear … But can’t you see what he’s after? This child is here … and you’re obsessed by her, obsessed by the prospect of motherhood. Oh, Caroline, you can’t do this. I won’t let you.”

“What would you do to prevent me?”

He had bent me back and was kissing me passionately on my throat and my hair and my lips. I felt I wanted this moment to go on forever. I would remember it always, the scent of daffodils and Paul there expressing his love for me … desperately, ready to do anything … just anything so that we could be together.

I withdrew myself. I said: “You shouldn’t be here like this. Any moment one of the servants might see you.”

“I’m tired of this,” he said. “Something must be done. I shall never let you go. I’ve got to do something. I’m desperate, Caroline. I’ve never let life get the better of me yet and I never will. And this is the most important thing that has ever happened to me.”

“As important as saving Landower for the Landowers?”

“More important than anything in my life.”

“You can’t do anything about it, Paul. It’s too late. You saved the house. I know how you felt. It had to be done … that was how you saw it. It can’t be undone now.”

“There must be a way out. I’ll ask her to release me.”

“She never would. Why should she? It’s part of the bargain. She loves Landower. She loves her position. She bought it. It’s hers and she will never give it up … any of it.”

“There will be a way … and I will find it.”

“Paul, you frighten me a little when you talk like that. There’s a look of fanaticism in your eyes.”

“I am fanatical … about you.”

“You are jealous because you think I will take someone else.”

“Yes, I’m jealous. I won’t stand by and see you do it. It’s the child, isn’t it? That’s changed you. You want to make it right for her … or what seems right and cosy. You want children. Of course you do. You’re seeing everything differently. I’ve noticed the change in you since you came back from London.”

“Wouldn’t you expect me to change? I loved my sister. I know I didn’t see her often but she was always there. We were very close to each other and she has left me her dearest possession … her child. Wouldn’t you expect me to change?”

“Caroline, my love … of course I understand. But it’s too big a price to pay. You think it will all be neatly rounded off, but it won’t be like that. A marriage that is wrong for you is just about the biggest tragedy that can happen, and it doesn’t make it any easier to bear because you have brought it on yourself. Don’t seek an easy way out … as I did. Learn from me. I have seen you and him and the child together. It looks idyllic and you think it is the answer. It isn’t, Caroline. My darling, I am not going on like this. I’ve been thinking of it … I’ve thought of nothing else … night and day. We’re being foolish. We’ve got to do something. This love of mine for you … and I believe you could feel deeply for me too … it can’t be ignored any longer.”

“My dear Paul, what are you suggesting?”

“If you can’t have exactly what you want … take what you can?”

“What does that mean? Furtive meetings? Where? In some inn a few miles away … holding secret meetings … I don’t think either of us would be very happy.”

“How can we be happy now? I want you with me at Landower. I want our nurseries opened up. I want a happy life with you.”

“It’s something we can’t have,” I said. “It’s crying for the moon.”

“It’s nothing of the sort. Who wants the moon? And you and I could work out something. Instead of which you are getting ready to plunge into disaster … as I did … because it seems an easy way out.”

I heard the sound of footsteps in the hall and I sprang away from him. I said in a loud voice. “It was good of you to call.”

I stepped into the hall. One of the maids was just going up the staircase. I walked towards the door and he followed me.

I said: “There is so much gossip. I believe the servants watch our movements. Moreover I think they listen at doors. Information gleaned passes through the ranks and it sometimes comes to the ears of the master and mistress of the house.”

We came out into the courtyard.

I said: “You must not be so vehement, Paul.”

“How can you do this?” he demanded.

“I have to live my life. You have to live yours.”

“I won’t let it happen.”

“I must go,” I told him. “I promised Livia I would take her for a ride in the paddock.”

He gazed at me in despair; and then I saw a look of determination in his eyes.

I felt a thrill of pleasure, and I had to admit to myself that I had enjoyed his passionate declaration. His jealousy was balm to me and for a while I could gloat over his love for me.

It was wrong, of course; it was dangerous; but it was only later that I began to think about that.

It was May and Jeremy was coming as frequently as ever and staying longer. He showed an enormous interest in the estate. He had become quite knowledgeable about it and I was interested to hear him assessing its worth.

“That manager of yours is quite good,” he said. “I had a chat with him this afternoon.”

“The job is his life. He served Cousin Mary well and now he does the same for me.”

“I was talking to a man in town. He was quite interested.”

For a moment I went cold with fear. “You talked to him … about what?”

“Well, about the sale of the estate.”

“Sale of the estate!”

“I know that you won’t want to stay buried in the country. I thought it would be a good idea to put out a few feelers … just tentatively.”

“Isn’t that a bit premature?”

“Of course … of course … Nothing definite. But these things always take time, and it is as well to know what we are about.”

“What we are about!” I was repeating his words after him.

“My dear Caroline, I want to take the burden of everything off your shoulders.”

“As you did Olivia’s?”

“I did what I could for her.”

“Olivia was left very wealthy.”

“Well, less than she had thought, poor girl. And things didn’t go very well.”

“How was that?”

“Markets and things. I wouldn’t want to bother you with them, Caroline.”

“I would not want anyone here to know that enquiries were being made about selling the estate. There would be panic. These people’s homes are here … their work … their lives.”

“Of course … of course … Only tentative enquiries, I assure you. I shall just want to get everything settled. I have spoken to Lady Carey. She is delighted. She thinks it is an excellent idea. She’s so relieved about Livia.”

“I didn’t know she gave much thought to Livia.”

“Oh, she likes to see everything settled as it should be. She thinks that it will have to be quiet. And she thought you should come up to London. She’ll take charge of everything. A very quiet ceremony. I agree with her.”

“You and she seem to work out everything between you.”

“We’re both concerned about you, Caroline.”

I thought: He’s getting a little careless, a little too sure. Perhaps the time has now come.

He went on to say that he thought he should arrange it for the first of July.

“The year will be up then,” he added. “No one can carp about that. Why don’t you come up in June … about the middle, say. There will be a lot to do.”

“What about Livia?”

“She’s all right with Loman and that Miss Bell.”

“Of course,” I said.

I saw him off on the train, very jaunty, very sure of himself.

Then I went home to write the letter.

“Dear Jeremy,

“You wrote to me once explaining why we should not marry and it is now my duty (by no means painful) to tell you why I have no intention—or ever had—of marrying you. How could I marry a man who had such a low opinion of my intelligence that he thought I could be deceived by such puerile blandishments. You are a great lover, Jeremy —of money. Yes, the estate is a very fine one; it is mine and I am rich … possibly more so than Olivia was before you squandered the greater part of her fortune.

“You broke your promise to me when you discovered I had nothing. Well, now I am paying you back in your own coin, as they say.

“You will now know what it feels like to have to go among your acquaintances—the one who was turned out, refused, jilted. “Caroline Tressidor.”

I sent off the letter at once and I gave myself up to the pleasure of contemplating his reception of it.

A few days passed. I was surprised when he arrived in person.

He came in the early evening. I had been with Livia, seeing her into bed, reading a story to her; and had just gone to my room when one of the maids knocked on the door.

She began: “Miss Tressidor, Mr. Brandon …”

He must have been immediately behind her because before she got any further he burst into the room.

“Caroline!” he cried.

The maid shut the door. I wondered if she were listening outside. “Well,” I said. “This is unexpected. Did you not get my letter?”

He said: “I don’t believe it.”

“Just a moment,” I said. I went to the door. The maid sprang back a few paces.

“There is nothing I need from you, Jane,” I said.

“No, Miss Tressidor,” she said, flushing and hurrying away.

I shut the door and leaned against it.

He repeated: “I don’t believe it.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I thought I had made it perfectly clear to you.”

“Do you mean you were playing games … with me?”

“I was following a certain course of action, if that is what you mean.”

“But you implied …”

“It was you who implied. You implied that I was a complete idiot, that I couldn’t see through you. You must have thought I was the biggest fool imaginable. Oh come, Jeremy, you really did put up a very poor show. Not nearly as good as you did all those years ago. You were quite credible then. Of course you didn’t have your past to live down.”

“You … you …”

“Say it,” I urged. “Don’t be afraid. You have nothing to lose now. You have already lost. I doubt your feelings for me are one half as contemptuous as mine for you.”

“You … scheming harridan.”

I laughed. “Spoken from the heart,” I said. “And I will retaliate by telling you that you are a blatant fortune hunter.”

“So this is revenge … because I refused to marry you.”

“Look upon it as a little lesson. When you go out on your next treasure hunt, I should try to be a little less blatant. You should have shown a little discretion. Olivia is scarcely cold in her grave.”

He was looking at me as though he could not believe what he saw and heard. He had been so conceited, so completely sure of himself, he had thought he only had to beckon and I would willingly follow. It was a hard and bitter lesson for him.

I was ashamed of my feelings, but I was almost sorry for him.

I said rather gently: “You couldn’t really have thought I was such a fool, could you, Jeremy? Did you really think I would sell my estate … my inheritance … to provide you with the money you needed for the gaming tables and entertaining your friends there? I daresay the ladies of the gaming clubs thought you were a very fine fellow.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know more than you give me credit for. Have you replaced Miss Flora Carnaby or does she still reign supreme?”

He turned pale and then flushed hotly. “Have you set spies on me?”

“Nothing of the sort. The information leaked out. It is amazing how these little facts come to light. Olivia knew. That’s what I can’t forgive. Olivia thought you were wonderful until you impoverished her to indulge your weakness for gambling and the Flora Carnabys of your superficial world.”

“Olivia …”

“Yes. You made the last months of her life unhappy. She knew and she was completely disillusioned. That was why she wanted me to take Livia. She was afraid to leave her with you. Now you know. I see no reason why you should be shielded from the truth.”

“You wanted to have your revenge on me because of what I did to you.”

“How right you are! I wanted that … among other things. Now you must tell your friends … and possibly your creditors … that the rich marriage is off. The lady knew all the time what her prospective bridegroom was after and she has told him in no uncertain terms to get out.”

“You’re a virago.”

“Is that an improvement on a harridan? Yes, I am one, and I am revelling in your discomfiture. I shall laugh when I think of you confessing to your cronies, and to my Aunt Imogen, that the marriage will not take place. You’ll make a good story of it, I don’t doubt. You’ll wonder at the wisdom of marrying your late wife’s sister. Whatever you say, it makes no difference. This is the fortune which will not fall into your lap.”

“Your forget you have my daughter here.”

“I’m sorry she has such a father.”

“I shall not allow you to keep her.”

I felt a sudden fear in the pit of my stomach. What could he do? He was, after all, her father.

As usual when I was afraid I was immediately on the defensive.

“If you attempted to take her from me I should probe into your financial affairs. I should discover the details of your liaison with Flora Carnaby—and doubtless others. I should provoke such a scandal which would kill off all your future chances of securing an heiress. You would be finished, Jeremy Brandon. I have the money to make sure of that— and I should not hesitate to use it.”

He was white and trembling and I saw that he was frightened.

“I will give you a word of advice although you don’t deserve it,” I went on. “Go away … and never let me hear of you again. I don’t know how much of Olivia’s money you have left. I should salvage what you can. You’ll probably lose it all at one stroke at the gaming tables. But who knows, you might be lucky. Whether you rise out of the ashes or are ruined, I don’t want to know. All I ask is that you go away from here and I never see you again.”

He stood looking at me—lost and beaten.

I saw him differently, shorn of his bravado. I imagined his coming onto the London scene, a younger son with very little money but outstanding good looks and an undoubted grace and charm. I could imagine his dreams, his ambitions.

Now he had been utterly humiliated and I had done this.

I couldn’t help feeling the tiniest glimmer of remorse, which I suppressed immediately.

This was my triumph and I was going to savour it to the full.

He left me.

He must have stayed the night at an inn and gone back to London the next day.

The news spread rapidly. How did they learn such things? How much of my scene with Jeremy had been overheard, how much guessed at?

Paul was waiting for me next morning when I rode out to visit one of the farms where there was a little trouble over some land. There was no mistaking his relief.

“So it is over!” he cried.

“How did you know?”

“Heaven knows. Gwennie talks of nothing else.”

“I expect she got it from one of your servants who got it from one of ours.”

“Where is unimportant. All that matters is that it is over.”

“You couldn’t have thought seriously for a moment …”

“You let me believe.”

“Because you knew me so little as to imagine it could possibly be true.”

“And all the time …”

“All the time I intended to do just what I did.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I had to live the part while I was playing it. Besides, I liked to see you jealous. I liked you to feel that you had lost me.”

“Caroline!”

“I’m realizing I’m not a very admirable character. I hurt him terribly … and I revelled in it.”

“He had hurt you.”

“Still I delighted in … revenge.”

“And you are repentant now?”

“Sometimes we don’t know ourselves very well. I thought I was going to enjoy hurting him … turning the knife in the wound as it were … and when the time came, I did it. I blazed at him. I wounded him, humiliated him, far more than he ever had me. He let me down lightly. He was courteous all the time. I just went for him like a harridan … a virago.”

“My dearest Caroline, you had been provoked. And he was after your fortune now as he had been before.”

I said bitterly: “He would not be the first man to marry for money, for what his wife could bring him.”

He was silent and I went on: “But who are any of us to judge others. I feel drained now … just rather sad. I was buoyed up by my plans to hurt, to wound, and now it’s over and I don’t really feel any great satisfaction.”

He said: “When I thought you were going to marry him, I was desperate, ready to do anything to stop it. I was making plans … wild plans …”

“Paul,” I said, “if only it could be …”

“Perhaps … something.”

“What?” I cried. “What can ever happen?”

“I won’t go on like this. This has made me realize that I shall not.”

“I can see no way out … except what you have suggested before. It might give us temporary satisfaction, but it’s not what we really want … not what you want or I want …”

“That’s true. But we could snatch what happiness we could and who knows … one day …”

“One day,” I said. “One day … I should never have stayed here. It would have been better if I had gone. I believe I might have, if Cousin Mary hadn’t had her accident. I was thinking of it …”

“Running away never helped.”

“This is one case where it might. If I had gone you would have forgotten me in time.”

“I never should. I should have lived my life in shadow. At least now you’re here. I can see you.”

“Yes,” I said. “Those are the good days when I see you.”

“Oh … Caroline!”

“It’s true. I don’t want to hide anything any more. One cannot go on pretending. We were doomed from the beginning. We are the star-crossed lovers. Cousin Mary used to say that there should have been a Romeo and Juliet in our families, but with a happy ending so that Landower and Tressidor could flourish side by side. But you see our story hasn’t a happy ending either.”

“At least we are here and we are neither of us people to accept defeat.”

“There is no way out of this. You could not leave Landower. And Gwennie has a stake in it. She bought it. She will keep what she has. There isn’t a way.”

“I shall find a way,” he said.

And I remembered later. I kept on remembering how he had looked when he said that—and I could not forget, however much I tried.