It seemed plausible that this might be so.
I went to see Tamarisk. She had changed a little. She looked more sophisticated. She laughed a good deal and was full of gaiety, but I did wonder whether part of it was assumed. She insisted that life was wonderful. But did she do this too vehemently?
I asked her if she and Gaston were going to live at St. Aubyn’s.
“Oh no,” she answered.
“We’re pondering. Such fun! We’re not quite sure where we want to live. St. Aubyn’s will do very well until we’ve decided.”
“I should think it would do very well indeed!” I replied.
“You won’t live abroad, will you? Those estates in France.”
“Oh, you’ve forgotten. Gaston sold those. We might buy another there.”
“And Scotland?” I went on.
“Those are in the process of being sold. At the moment we shall be here. My mother is pleased about that. She adores Gaston.”
“And Crispin?” I asked.
“Oh, you know Crispin. He never adores anything except the estate.”
Was she happy, or was there a hint of uneasiness which she was trying to disguise?
As for me, there was a certain amount of uncertainty. Aunt Sophie had thought there would be more balls at St. Aubyn’s to which eligible young men would be asked. Tamarisk’s marriage had put an end to that.
I was caught up by Miss Hetherington. I must, she said, ‘pull my weight’ and do what I could for the good of Harper’s Green. That meant I must join the sewing circle, making garments for the poor and naked people of some remote part of Africa. I must help promote the bazaar and the annual fete. I must join in the organizing of the;H cake-judging competition and become a member of the flower-arranging class.
Aunt Sophie was amused at first, and then a little thoughtful. It was not what she had planned for me.
I said: “I feel I ought to do something. I mean, take a post of some sort. After all, I’m a bit of a drain on you.”
“Drain! I never heard such nonsense.”
“Well, you can’t be as well off as you were before I came. So it must be something of a burden.”
“No such thing. You’re a bonus.”
“And you are a darling,” I replied.
“Yet I do want to do something.
Earn a little money preferably. You give me so much. “
“You give me so much, too. But I do know what you mean. You don’t want to stultify, become a martyr to village life, become another Maud Hetherington.”
“I have been wondering what I could do. Perhaps get a post as a governess or companion.”
Aunt Sophie looked horrified.
“Granted there is little else a genteel young lady can do. But I can’t see you as the governess to some wayward child or companion to some fractious old woman.”
“It might be interesting for a while. After all, I am not like some. I could leave if I did not like it. I do have a little money of my own.”
“Put the idea out of your head. I’d miss you too much. Something will be resolved.”
The time for the birth of Rachel’s baby was almost with us. I went over to see her.
She said: “It’s impossible not to be happy about this baby. I love this child deeply, Freddie. It’s strange, when you think …”
“It’s not strange at all. It’s natural. The child is yours, and when it is born it will be Daniel’s. Only the three of us know, and we shan’t tell.”
“A secret,” she said, ‘that must never be told. “
My thoughts immediately went to the nursery in the Lanes’ cottage and the seven birds in the picture.
“The old verse,” I said.
“I know,” said Rachel.
“I always wondered what that secret was. What do you think the poet had in mind?”
“Just any secret, I suppose.”
She nodded thoughtfully.
That reminded me that I must go to see Flora soon. Poor Flora. The passing of time meant nothing to her. She lived permanently in the past.
Rachel was saying: “I am trying to put all that behind me. I was silly to believe in him. I can see it so clearly now. I believe he married Tamarisk for her money.”
“Poor Tamarisk,” I said.
“Yes. I can say that now.”
“And you, Rachel, have someone who truly loves you.”
She nodded. She was not completely happy, I knew, but she had left a long way behind that girl whom I had found in the stable with a rope in her hands.
Soon after I called on Tamarisk again. She was wearing a tea-gown of lavender silk and lace and looked beautiful.
“And what are you doing here, Freddie?” she wanted to know.
“I have just left the sewing circle.”
She grimaced.
“How exciting!” she said ironically.
“Poor you! I don’t suppose Maud Hetherington lets you off lightly.”
“She’s a hard taskmaster.”
“How long are you going to let her rule you?”
“Not much longer. I’m thinking of taking a post.”
“What sort of post?”
“I haven’t decided yet. What do young ladies of some education and very small means do? You don’t know? Well, I’ll tell you. They become governesses or companions It’s a very humble condition, but alas, the only thing available.”
“Oh shut up,” cried Tamarisk.
“And look! Here’s Crispin.”
He came into the room and said to me: “Good afternoon. I saw you arriving and I guessed you had come to see Tamarisk.”
“She has just been telling me she’s thinking of being someone’s governess or companion,” said Tamarisk.
“Looking after other people’s children or ministering to some old woman?”
“Teaching children could be rewarding,” I said.
“For the children who would benefit from your tuition, perhaps. But for you? When a governess is no longer needed, off she goes.”
“That would apply to any employment, surely?”
“The period of a governess’s usefulness is necessarily limited. It is not a career I would recommend.”
“There is little choice. There would appear to be only two openings governess or companion.”
“The second could be worse than the first. People who need companions are more often than not querulous and demanding.”
“It may be that there are some pleasant ones.”
“It would not be my choice if I were a young woman in search of a career.”
“Ah, but then you are not.”
Tamarisk laughed. He shrugged his shoulders and we talked of other things.
Shortly afterwards he left and I went back to The Rowans. I sat at my window, looking out at Barrow Wood.
Aunt Sophie was having tea in the drawing-room when I came in. I had been to the church to help with the flower decoration, supervised by Mildred Clavier, who had French ancestry on one side of her family and was therefore noted for her good taste.
I was tired not so much from physical fatigue but through a sense of futility. I was wondering, as I did twenty times a day, where I was going.
To my surprise Crispin was with Aunt Sophie and she was looking rather pleased.
“Oh, here’s Frederica,” she said.
“Mr. St. Aubyn has been talking to me.
It’s an idea he has. “
“I’m sorry I disturbed you,” I said.
“I didn’t know you had a visitor.”
“This concerns you. Come and sit down. You’d like a cup of tea, I know.”
She poured it out and I took it. Then she smiled at Crispin.
“It’s just an idea I had,” he said.