‘Does he know this?’

‘Yes, he knows. That is why he has come here … to see you. Why don’t you say something?’

‘I … can’t think what to say.’

‘You are shocked?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘My darling Lottie, I have broken the news too abruptly. He wants you to know. He has become so fond of you in a short time. Lottie, why don’t you say something?’

I just looked at her. Then she took me into her arms and held me tightly.

‘Lottie … you don’t despise me …’

I kissed her. ‘No … no …. Dear Mother, I just don’t know what to say … what to think. I want to be by myself. I want to think about it all.’

‘Tell me this first,’ she said. ‘It makes no difference to your love for me?’

I shook my head. ‘Of course not. How could it?’

I kissed her fondly and she seemed like a different person from the one I had known all my life.

My feelings were so mixed that I could not sort them out. It was a startling revelation. I suppose everyone receives some sort of shock some time, but to discover that a man you have believed all your life to be your father is not and to have another introduced into that role was to say the least bewildering.

The Comte was such a dazzling figure that I felt proud as surely anyone would have to be to acknowledge him as a father. That emotion was immediately followed by shame when I thought of poor Jean-Louis, so kind, gentle and self-sacrificing. He had cared so deeply for me and it was not in my nature to be indifferent to such devotion. His eyes used to light up when I appeared and when I sat beside him his eyes would glow with a tenderness which warmed me. I had made a great show of looking after him just to see his pleasure in my presence. One cannot lightly dismiss such a father and rejoice in his replacement. When he had died I had been desolate—so had my mother for that matter. She had loved him too. People’s emotions were too deeply involved for me at my age to understand then, but try as I might I could not suppress the excitement my mother’s revelation had aroused in me.

Strangely enough I did not connect the Comte’s fortuitous reappearance with my involvement with Dickon. If I had thought about it, I would have accepted the fact that he had not come to England by chance after all those years.

When I went down to dinner I was composed. My mother watched me anxiously and there was a constrained atmosphere throughout the meal which the Comte did his best to disperse by telling us accounts of amusing happenings at the Court of France.

When we rose from the table my mother pressed my hand and looked appealingly at me. I smiled at her, kissed her hand and nodded. She understood. I accepted my new father.

We went into the punch room to drink some after-dinner wine and my mother said: ‘I have told her, Gerard.’

He swept aside all embarrassment and, coming to me, took me into his arms; then he held me away from him.

‘My daughter,’ he said. ‘I am so proud. This is one of the happiest moments of my life.’

And after that all the embarrassments were gone.

I spent a great deal of time in his company. My mother arranged it, I believe. Very often she left us alone together. She seemed very anxious that we should get to know each other. He talked constantly about my visiting France and said he would not be content until he had shown me his château and I said I should not be content until I had seen it.

I was fascinated by him—everything about him pleased me: his easy manners, his gallantry, even what we in England might call his dandyism. It enchanted me. But most of all I was delighted by the fact that he treated me as a grown-up, and because of this it was not long before I was telling him about Dickon.

I loved Dickon. I was going to marry Dickon. Dickon was the most handsome man I had ever seen.

‘I think,’ I said, ‘that you must have been rather like him … once.’

‘Ah,’ he replied, laughing, ‘you see what the years do. I am no longer handsome like Dickon. My only consolation is that Dickon will come to this pass one day.’

‘What nonsense!’ I cried. ‘You are as fascinating in your way. Dickon is just younger … although he is a lot older than I. About eleven years older ….’

My father put his head on one side and said: ‘Poor old man.’

I knew that I could talk to him about Dickon as I never could to my mother.

‘You see,’ I explained, ‘she hates him. It has something to do with tricks he played when he was a boy. He was very mischievous, as most boys are. I am sure you were just as bad.’

‘I dare say,’ he agreed.

‘So it is rather silly to have prejudices about people …’

‘Tell me about Dickon,’ he said.

So I tried to describe Dickon, which wasn’t easy. ‘He has beautiful blond hair which curls about his head. I think it is what is called hyacinthine. I have always liked hyacinths for that reason. His eyes are blue … not dark blue like mine, but lighter. His features look as though they have been sculpted by a great artist.’

‘Apollo has returned to Earth,’ said the Comte lightly.

‘He is very charming.’

‘So I gathered.’

‘In an unusual way,’ I said. ‘He never seems to take things seriously … except us. I think he takes that seriously. He has a quick wit which can be cruel sometimes … though never to me. Somehow that makes me love him more. He would be too perfect without it.’

‘A little imperfection makes the charm irresistible,’ said the Comte. ‘I understand.’

‘If I tell you something, you won’t tell my mother, will you?’

‘I promise.’

‘I think she is a little jealous of him.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, you see, it is due to her mother … my dear grandmother, Clarissa. She is a darling. Long before she married my mother’s father, she had a romance—very brief but very memorable—with a young boy. It was very—’

‘Innocent?’

‘Yes. He was transported because of the ’15 Rebellion. Then she married my grandfather and my mother was born. The young man returned years later after my grandfather was dead, but instead of marrying my mother he married her cousin Sabrina, then he was killed at Culloden. Sabrina had his child and that was Dickon. He was brought up by my grandmother and by Sabrina and they both doted on him. They still do. I have always thought that my mother believed her mother loved Dickon more than she did her … her own child. It’s a bit complicated, but do you see?’

‘I do.’

‘Therefore she hated Dickon.’

‘Isn’t there a stronger reason than that?’

‘Oh, reasons build up, don’t they? You only have to start by disliking people and then you can find all sorts of reasons why you should.’

‘I see you are something of a philosopher.’

‘You are laughing at me.’

‘On the contrary, I am overcome with admiration. If I smile it is because I am so happy that you should confide in me.’

‘I thought perhaps you might influence my mother.’

‘Tell me more.’

‘Dickon and I are in love.’

‘He is many years older than you.’

‘Only eleven. And people grow up.’

‘An indisputable fact.’

‘And when I am forty he will be fifty-one. We shall both be old then … so what does it matter?’

‘True, the gap lessens with the passing of the years, but alas, it is the present that we must consider. I think he has been a little premature with his proposal of marriage.’

‘Well, I don’t. Queens are betrothed in their cradles.’

‘True again, but often those betrothals come to nothing. In life one often has to wait and see. What do you want to do? Marry Dickon now … at your age!’

‘I suppose everyone would say I’m not old enough. But I would wait until I am fourteen, say.’

‘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.’