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“I know. I know. But it is always sad when men … whose quarrel it is not… have to risk their lives. I do hope it will be over soon. Oh, if only it could be.”
“Then you should pray for a hard winter.”
I have no doubt that the Russians prayed for the same—and those prayers were answered. Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow decimated his army. However well drilled, well disciplined those men, they could not stand up to the terrible climatic conditions.
There were many to rejoice—ourselves among them—when Napoleon returned to Paris, and of the army of six hundred thousand only one hundred thousand had survived.
We were dining with the Barringtons when the news came.
“Perhaps he will make peace now,” said my mother hopefully.
“Not him,” said my father.
“Nothing short of capture and the complete destruction of his armies will silence Napoleon,” added Edward Barrington.
“You are right,” added his father. “Nothing will subdue him but complete defeat.”
“It will come, depend upon it,” said my father. “And when it does we shall be free of this threat which has been hanging over us for so long. The French have a lot to answer for.”
“Yes… all this unrest stems from them,” added Mr. Barrington.
“You mean your trouble at the works?”
“It is really getting serious,” Edward explained. “The mob is getting more and more violent. We have to have all-night guards on the machines.”
“Idiots,” said my father. “The law is not harsh enough.”
“I think they are going to tighten it up,” said Edward. “They’ll have to. We can’t go on like this.”
Then they talked once more of Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow and speculated as to what his next plans would be.
When we returned home one of the grooms from Enderby was waiting for us. He said that Mademoiselle Fougére was very anxious about Mademoiselle Sophie and she thought we should go over to see her as soon as possible.
My mother said we would go at once, so with my father, David, Claudine and Amaryllis, I went to Enderby.
I could never enter that house without a little shiver of expectation. I never knew what it was. Amaryllis did not feel it. She said it was my imagination; but I did really feel that so many strange events had taken place there that somehow they had been caught up, captured and become part of the house.
I was certain as soon as I entered it that night that I sensed the presence of Death.
Jea
“I am afraid,” she said, “terribly afraid that she is slipping away from me.”
We went up to Aunt Sophie’s bedroom. We stood round her bed. I am not sure whether she recognized us. She lay with her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“I wish I could have got a priest,” said Jea
My mother said: “Perhaps she will recover.”
“No, Madame, not this time. This is the end.”
As though to confirm this, Aunt Sophie’s breathing became stertorous. After a while she was quiet.
“My poor Jea
“I knew,” said Jea
My father said he would send one of the servants for the doctor.
“I have already done so,” said Jea
My mother gently led Jea
My father took the doctor into the bedroom and the rest of us went downstairs. As we sat in the hall with its high vaulted ceiling and its haunted minstrels’ gallery I had the feeling that the house was listening, waiting. And I thought: Who will live here now?
Jea
“It’s a pity that child was ever born,” said my mother.
“Poor Dolly,” I said. “She would have loved her.”
Claudine put her hand to her head and said irrelevantly: “I don’t like this house. There’s always trouble in it. I believe it is something to do with the house.”
If I let my imagination stray I was sure I would have heard the house laughing, mockingly.
“She grieved for Tamarisk,” mused Jea
“What she would have done without you, Jea
“She brooded on her misfortunes,” said Jea
“I should like a little brandy,” said my mother. “Something to warm us up. I think we all need something.”
Jea
“It gives her something to do,” said my mother. “Poor soul. This is a terrible grief for her.”
When Jea
The doctor said Aunt Sophie had died of a congestion of the lungs.
“And a surfeit of sorrow,” added my mother.
Claudine looked over her shoulder at the minstrels’ gallery and shivered.
“Are you cold, Mamma?” asked Amaryllis. “Here. Have my shawl.”
“No, my darling. I’m not cold.” She looked with infinite fondness at her daughter.
The doctor was saying that Aunt Sophie had not wished to live. It sometimes happened when people had this death wish that death came to them. There was nothing which could have saved her—not all the devoted nursing possible. She was just tired of living, tired of fighting.
“She beckoned to death and it came,” I said.
My father looked impatient and said it was getting late and there was nothing we could do tonight.
We went back to Eversleigh leaving Jea
On a dark and dismal day, Aunt Sophie was laid to rest. Tamarisk’s disappearance had ceased to be a subject for contemplation among the servants.
There were a number of mourners at the graveside and even more spectators. Aunt Sophie had always been something of an oddity in the neighbourhood. Now she had died—or rather faded away—that was the end of her sad story.
The cortege had left Enderby and the mourners would come back to Eversleigh where they would be given food and drink; and after that the family would assemble for the reading of Aunt Sophie’s will.
We had discussed the possibilities of what it might contain.
“Enderby would be a problem,” said my father. He thought the wisest thing would be to sell. “The whole lot,” he said. “Lock, stock and barrel. Get rid of the place. The problem would be to find a likely buyer.”
“It’s improved a lot since Sophie took over,” said my mother. “Jea
“It’s not everybody who is looking for fancy French taste,” my father reminded her.
“Maybe not but people are impressed by a tastefully furnished house.”
“We’ll wait and see.”
And now the waiting was over, and we were all assembled in my father’s study for the reading of the will.
It was what might have been expected. Jea
The will must have been made before Tamarisk’s disappearance.
When the guests had all gone my father expressed his dissatisfaction about the will. “We shall have to find that girl now. I’m wondering what can be done about the house. I wonder what she will think to discover herself the owner of Enderby.”