“Oh yes,” agreed Amaryllis. “It gave her such superiority when we were in the school room and you can be sure she took advantage of it.”
“Jessica would always seize an advantage.”
We were walking home from church at the time. It was Christmas morning and my head was ringing with the Christmas hymns which I loved. I felt so happy that I could have burst into song.
I said: “You make me sound grasping and scheming. Is that your opinion of me?”
He turned to me and took my hand. “I am sorry. I merely meant you are full of energy … full of the desire to enjoy life … which is what it is meant to be.”
“It is true,” Amaryllis confirmed. “Jessica is… how can I put it? … aware. I am far more gullible, more trusting, more stupid I suppose.”
“I will not allow you to say such things.” He had turned his attention to her. “Like Jessica, you are charming …”
“Although so different,” she added.
“You are both … as you should be.”
“You make us sound like paragons,” I said, “which we are not… even Amaryllis.”
“I shall insist on keeping my opinions.”
“You will probably change them when you know us better.”
“I know you very well already.”
“People can never really know each other.”
“You are thinking of the secret places of the heart. Well, perhaps that is what makes people so fascinating. Would you say that?”
“Perhaps.”
“I am still a little at sea about these relatives of yours. Who is the lively young gentleman?”
“You mean Jonathan?”
“Yes, Jonathan. What exactly is his relationship?”
“My father in his first marriage had twin sons—David and Jonathan. Jonathan married Millicent Pettigrew and young Jonathan is their son. David married my mother’s daughter by her first marriage, Claudine. And Amaryllis is the outcome of that marriage.”
“So Amaryllis and Jonathan are cousins.”
“Yes, and I am Jonathan’s—as well as Amaryllis’—aunt.”
“Isn’t it strange what complicated relations we have managed to build up,” said Amaryllis.
“My father likes Jonathan to come here,” I said. “I daresay he’ll have Eversleigh one day, after David has died of course.”
“Don’t speak of it,” said Amaryllis quickly.
“It will be years and years and we all have to go some time,” I retorted lightly.
“And haven’t the Pettigrews got an estate for Jonathan somewhere?”
“They have a fine house but it is not exactly an estate,” said Amaryllis.
“It will have to be Eversleigh for Jonathan,” I put in. “My father will insist. It was lucky that his sons were so different. David was very good for the estate and I believe his brother Jonathan wasn’t interested. He had all sorts of mysterious irons in the fire. He died violently … I think because of them. I am sure he would never have settled down to run the estate. It may be Jonathan will be like his father.”
“My mother says he reminds her so much of him,” said Amaryllis.
“Your father seems to be a man who knows exactly what he wants,” said Peter to me. “And he’ll make sure he gets it.”
“That sums him up perfectly,” I replied. “There will be trouble if Jonathan doesn’t come up to expectations. He is always saying it is a pity David didn’t have a son as well as you, Amaryllis. He is very fond of you but he would have preferred you to be a boy. He thinks David’s son would have been … amenable.”
“You see,” said Amaryllis, “I have a reputation for being easily led.”
“That’s not exactly true,” I replied. “Amaryllis can be firm, but she is inclined to believe the best of people.”
“What a nice compliment for an aunt to pay her niece,” said Peter lightly; he slipped his arms through mine and that of Amaryllis.
We had reached the house.
Peter said goodbye to us and went back to Enderby. He would be returning later for the evening festivities.
It was a very merry party which sat down for Christmas dinner, consisting of the Barringtons, with Clare Carson, Peter Lansdon, the Pettigrews and our own family. It also included the doctor and his wife and the solicitor from the nearby town, who looked after my father’s domestic business at Eversleigh. For several years they had been our guests and the only newcomer was Peter Lansdon. He made a difference to the party. He had all the social graces to make him immediately popular. Clare Carson seemed to like him a great deal—but I think that was largely due to the fact that she believed he wanted to marry me and that I felt strongly about him.
I was thinking a great deal about Edward and it seemed to me that it would be an excellent idea if she married him. She would care for him, sympathize with him; and she knew something about the factory for she had lived with the family in Nottingham since she was a child.
How unfortunate life was! Why did people set their hearts on the wrong people?
I talked to Edward at dinner and asked how matters were faring at Nottingham.
He said: “No doubt you have heard that these people are getting more and more violent. It is not just confined to Nottingham now. It is spreading all over the country. This cursed French revolution has a lot to answer for.”
“Indeed it has in France.”
“Something like that can’t happen without sending its reverberations all over the world.”
“What will happen about these people who are breaking up the machines?”
“Penalties for the culprits must get harsher. It is the only way to stop it.”
“You mean … transportation?”
“That… and hanging most likely. Only stupid men would not see that you can’t stand still in industry. You have to go forward.”
“Even if it means losing their jobs?”
“Then they must find other jobs. In time the industry will be more prosperous and that will mean more security for them.” He looked at me apologetically. “Hardly the subject for the Christmas feast.”
I put my hand over his. “Poor Edward,” I said. “It is hard to forget it.”
He pressed my hand. I think Peter saw the gesture and I thought with a little touch of excitement: He will be jealous.
I was young. I was frivolous. I was vain; and I could not help being excited because two men were in love with me. I liked Edward so much and I was very sorry for him. If Peter asked me to marry him … when Peter asked me to marry him… what should I say? I could not shilly-shally for ever. The circumstances of our meeting had been so unusual, so romantic. Of course I was going to marry Peter. I was not sure whether I was in love with him. I was very much a novice when it came to falling in love. I felt this was not quite how I ought to feel. But I must be in love with Peter.
My father was talking across the table to Lord Pettigrew who was seated opposite him. I heard my name mentioned and realized they were talking about the adventure and how Peter had rescued me.
Peter was alert, listening.
“I am still making enquiries,” my father was saying. “I don’t intend to let the matter drop. I am going to sift it out.”
“Difficult to trace … The place is empty, you say.”
“The Delarge woman is said to own the place. I don’t believe that. I wonder if there is someone behind her. I’m keeping my eyes open.”
Conversation buzzed round us and continued in a light vein until the meal was over and the hall cleared for dancing.
Peter was a good dancer. He danced with me and then with Amaryllis. That left me free for Edward, who danced rather laboriously—correctly but without inspiration.
“You ought to come for a visit to Nottingham,” he said. “Your mother told me she would like to. She and my mother get on so well together.”
“Yes, it would be interesting,” I said.
“It is a very pleasant house really, lacking the antiquity of this one, of course. But it’s a good family house … some way from the town and we are surrounded by green fields.”