“Died! Because her granddaughter was going to have a child?”

“Some people care about these things. She had a similar trouble with another granddaughter. She just seemed to give up. She went out one cold winter’s night to consult someone and she almost froze to death. Dolly was taken under the wing of my Aunt Sophie and she died when the child was born. My aunt brought up the child who showed her gratitude by running away with the gypsies. You remember Leah.”

“Leah? Certainly I remember Leah.”

“It was because of Leah that you almost lost your life.”

“One does not forget such things. Poor Dolly… and the child.”

“She came back to us. She had tired of the gypsy way of life. She wanted her warm bed, the comforts of that other life she had experienced. But when she returned my aunt had died of a broken heart. You see what a trail of havoc one little frolic round a bonfire can bring?”

He closed his eyes and suddenly I felt sorry for him. He must have suffered a great deal.

I said more gently: “Well, now Tamarisk is with us. I don’t think she will want to go wandering again.”

“I must see the child,” he said.

“She is at Grasslands. Do you remember Grasslands? It was Dolly’s home.”

“The house in which I was hiding when they took me?”

“Yes,” I said. It was all coming back to me so vividly—that moment when he had opened the door and I had suddenly become aware that I was not alone, and that he would think I had betrayed him.

“I live at Grasslands now,” I went on. “It is my home. It was bought by my husband’s family before he was injured.”

“So much happens as the years pass,” he said. “I must see the child. I wonder what she will think of me. Perhaps I should take her back to Cornwall with me.”

“She will be excited to know she has a father.”

He was silent for a while. Then he said: “Forgive me. I am overwhelmed. I feel that sitting here I have lived through years. I have been thinking ever since I came back to England that I must come and look for you. How foolish one is! I let myself believe that I should find you just as I left you … a young girl… nine years ago … as if nothing would change.”

“And you? You married?”

He shook his head. “I always knew I should come back to England.”

We heard a distant bell ringing through the house.

“I think that means they are serving supper,” I said.

The other people left the garden and we were alone.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he said. “I can’t tell you how often I dreamed of coming home when I was away.”

“I suppose one would.”

He stood up and taking my hand drew me up to stand beside him.

“I used to say to myself, I’ll go back. I’ll ride through the country. I’ll visit the places we used to see when we trundled through in our caravans. I’ll go down to Eversleigh. I remembered it well. That cosy corner of England. Isn’t it called the Garden of England?”

“Yes, because of the apples and cherries and plums that grow there better than anywhere else in the country.”

“Eversleigh … Grasslands and the young girl with the dark expressive eyes who had a spirit like mine and would fight for what she believed was right. Do you know, I thought you were the most enchanting little girl I had ever seen.”

“And Dolly?” I could not resist saying.

“She was a tragic little thing. Life had been unkind to her.”

“You mean people, don’t you?”

“I was thoughtless … careless …”

“You betrayed her.”

“I betrayed myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I thought nothing of it. We were dancing round the bonfire. Dolly was eager to be loved … even fleetingly.”

“Oh I see. Just worthy of your attention for a very short time.”

“It wasn’t like that, you know.”

“But you honoured her briefly with a little of your attention.”

“You are angry suddenly.”

“I hate this attitude towards women, as though they are here to pander to the temporary needs of men, little playthings to be picked up, amusing for a while, and then cast aside.”

“You are talking in well worn clichés.”

“Clichés come about because they are a neat way of stating a truth.”

“I have never before heard them so described and I repeat that it was not like that with Dolly. She was not forced, you know.”

“I think we should go to supper,” I said.

He took my arm and pressed it.

“This has been a most exciting evening. Meeting you … like this. I meant to come to see you within a few days. This is the first opportunity I have had of getting to London. My brother was an old friend of Lord Inskip so naturally I, the heir, was invited to the ball.”

“Do they know that you served several years … as a convict?”

“In Australia, yes. It doesn’t count. People are sent to Australia for their politics. There is not the same smear as serving a term of imprisonment here. I shall not attempt to hide my past, I assure you. People must take me as they find me.”

I had turned away and we went into the supper room. My emotions were in a whirl. I had been so taken off my guard. It had taken me some time before I could believe that he had come back.

For some reason I did not want to see him again. He disturbed me. I realized that over the last nine years I had thought about him quite often. He had intruded into my thoughts and now that he was back he seemed more disturbing than ever.

I saw my parents seated at one of the tables and leaving him I hurriedly joined them.

My mother said: “What a distinguished looking man you came in with. Had you been in the garden?”

“Yes. It was rather hot in the ballroom.”

“Who is he?”

“Sir Jake Somebody.”

“Your father said he thought he knew him but couldn’t quite place him.”

I was not surprised.

The salmon was delicious; so were the meat patties; there was champagne in plenty. I ate and drank without tasting. I could not forget him.

I saw him across the supper room. He was seated at the Inskips’ table, talking vivaciously and there seemed to be a good deal of merriment around him.

He caught my eye across the room and smiled.

“He is very attractive,” said my mother, following my gaze. “He seems to have his eyes on you.”

“I daresay he has his eyes on quite a number of people.”

“Was he flirtatious?” asked my mother. “He looks as if he might be something of an adventurer.”

“Hardly that.”

“But interesting.”

“Oh yes, very interesting.”

She sighed and I knew she was once more wishing that I had not hurried into marriage.

After supper he asked me to dance. I rose, trying to assume an air of reluctance which I was far from feeling.

“It is good of you to do me the honour,” he said.

We joined the dancers.

“I must come down and see my daughter.”

“Perhaps it would be better if she were brought to London.”

“Would you bring her?”

“Perhaps my mother would. Or her governess. Leah is with us.”

“Leah!”

“When she returned from her sojourn with the gypsies she brought Leah with her. Leah has stayed with us ever since.”

“Leah …” he said softly and I felt a ridiculous stab of jealousy. That should have been warning enough in itself. I was a staid married woman; he was a one-time gypsy, a convict, a seducer of an innocent girl, and he had killed a man. Why should I feel jealous of Leah? Why should I feel so emotional to be near him? Why should this ball be the most exciting one I had ever attended?

Because of him? Oh yes, I should have recognized the warning signals.

“I would rather you brought her,” he said.

“I should have to consider it. I do not care to leave my husband too frequently.”

“And he is too ill to travel?”

“Yes.”

I thought of Jake at Grasslands, a guest in our house. That would be very disturbing. It was such an extraordinary situation. I imagined myself explaining to Tamarisk: “You have a father. He has just appeared. Here he is.” And Edward? What would Edward think of this man? He was very perceptive, and where I was concerned particularly so. He was always conscious of the sacrifice I had made in marrying him. Constantly he said that I should never have done it and as constantly I tried to show him a hundred reasons why I should. I loved Edward. I loved him more than I had when I married him. My admiration for him had grown. I was resigned to my life with him and never until this night had I realized how much I gave up to marry him.