Lament for a Lost Lover

Encounter at a Playhouse

THE TWENTY-NINTH OF MAY of the year 1660—what an unforgettable day that was! We must all be in the capital for the King’s ceremonial entry. How fitting it was that it should be His Majesty’s thirtieth birthday.

We had travelled to London on the previous day and taken up residence in the Eversleighs’ town house which, through his careful conduct, Carleton had managed to keep in the family in much the same manner as he had Eversleigh Court. Alas, he had not been able to put away treasures from this house, there being no secret hiding place, but he had, with great daring, carried a few of them from London to Eversleigh Court and it had been possible to bring a few back. So we found the house not so austere as it might have been.

What a happy scene that was! The city seemed to have gone mad with joy. It was clear that all believed that the evil days were over and that a new heaven had come on earth. As we rode out from our lodgings—myself and Charlotte with Carleton and Lord and Lady Eversleigh—we had difficulty in getting through the crowded streets. Lord Eversleigh in his splendid uniform was cheered. Clearly he was one of the King’s generals, and I knew that my father, who would be making his way through these streets, would be getting the same acclamation.

We were to go to London Bridge, where the grand procession was being organized. From there we would join the King, who would be journeying from Rochester through Dartford to Blackheath.

There was my father and mother with Lucas. I was so proud of my father who looked magnificent in his uniform. He was a very distinguished-looking man, and my heart warmed to him because I knew of the great love between him and my mother and that I was a living result of it. I felt very emotional in that moment and infinitely sad because my own husband had been taken from me.

The crowd was growing and the shouts were deafening. It was all “Long live the King.” It seemed incredible that a few months before these people would not have dared mention his name.

A woman was beside Carleton—a tall woman who sat her horse most gracefully. She was what I would only call voluptuous, and there was a black patch on her temple to accentuate the beauty of her large brown eyes.

“I must present you to my wife,” said Carleton.

I felt a shudder of revulsion which was inexplicable. I had heard that he had a wife. What was it Edwin had said? They go their own ways. It suits them.

“Madam,” he said to his wife, “allow me to present my new cousin. Edwin’s widow.”

“I have heard of you,” said Barbary Eversleigh. “You have a fine son, I believe.”

I noticed that she threw a mischievous look at Carleton, as though she knew that the birth of my son had baulked his ambitions, and this gave her pleasure.

“I have heard of you, too,” I said. “Are you often at Eversleigh Court?”

“Rarely,” she answered. “Even though, I believe, my husband is frequently there.”

She was studying me intently, as though taking in every detail of my appearance. I felt uncomfortable, and I was glad that at that moment the trumpets announced that the King’s arrival was imminent.

Barbary drew in her mount and brought it closer to Carleton’s.

In the van of the processions were three hundred men of the Trainbands dressed in cloth-of-silver doublets; twelve hundred followed in velvet coats and then came the footmen in purple livery. Brilliantly coloured uniforms were everywhere—buff-coated soldiers, with sleeves of cloth of silver, wearing rich green scarves; there were men clad in blue, laced with silver, followed by the members of the City Companies in their black velvet coats and chains.

As this passed the great moment had arrived. There, between his two brothers, rode the slim, dark man, and as he appeared, shouts went up from thousands of throats: “God save the King.”

“A health unto His Majesty.” These citizens were in love with him. He had a natural charm which it was impossible not to be aware of. His happiness in being back was obvious to all. There could scarcely have been a man or woman in the multitude who did not believe that this was the day he or she had been waiting for all through the dreary years of Puritan rule.

His thirtieth birthday! Not too young but still young enough. He was tall, very tall, so that he towered above his fellows; some might judge his dark, rather saturnine face ugly, but none could deny his charm. If any man in that press of people had dared raise his voice against good King Charles, he would have been hung by his neck on the nearest tree. From every church the bells were ringing; people had hung tapestries across the streets, from windows girls and women threw flowers at the King as he passed. There were trumpets and music and banners fluttering in the light breeze. Never had a people shown its monarch such loyalty; and because he had come home and not a drop of blood had been shed to bring him to his rightful kingdom, they loved him the more.

People danced. They scooped up the wine which flowed from the fountains. That night some would be drunk and perhaps quarrelsome, but for the moment it was all joy.

How exhilarating it was! I was caught up in the euphoric joy, and I really felt, as I rode through the streets of London, that this was the start of a new life.

Then I saw her in the crowd. She was riding with Sir James Gilley and she was clearly the most attractive woman there. She was dressed in blue velvet and in her hat was a long curling feather. She looked pleased and happy, and I felt a pang of anger to think that she could as easily abandon her child.

I tried to push my horse through the crowd to reach her, when I felt a restraining hand on my reins.

It was Carleton’s.

“You can’t reach her,” he said. “You should not try. The daughter-in-law of Lord Eversleigh should not openly consort with harlots.”

I felt the colour flame into my cheeks.

“How … how dare you say that of …”

“Oh, good and loyal Arabella,” he whispered. “Dear, sweet, simple Arabella! That woman is no friend to you. You should stop thinking of her as such.”

“How can you know who is and who is not my friend?”

He brought his face close to mine. It looked mocking. “I know a great deal,” he said, “I was not born yesterday.”

“And nor was I.”

“Who shall say how long ago was yesterday?”

I ignored him, still looking at Harriet.

“You should send her bastard back to her,” he said. “Why should you be responsible for her mistakes?”

As I turned my horse away from him, I heard him laugh softly.

“Temper!” he whispered. “On such a day. Of course it may be that your good friend Harriet will soon be back, begging for admittance. It is well known that James Gilley doesn’t keep his women long. He’s a good husband, really, and does his duty by his wife. Now he is back he’ll keep her pleasantly in Shropshire with a growing family, which well gives evidence that he visits her when he considers it necessary. If she had been in London today, he would have ridden with her. He never thinks of his women as anything but what they are.”

“It seems,” I said curtly, “that he is a most cynical man.”

“You might say that of many of us. How, my dear, good Arabella, shall you adjust yourself to this wicked society?”

“I have no doubt that there are virtuous people even in …”

“Restoration London,” he finished. “Perhaps so. Well, it will be interesting to see …”

“To see what?”

“How you like the new life. Come. You are scowling. People watch us. It is not in the mood of today to quarrel. You must smile. Everything has changed. You must believe that now the King is home, England has become a paradise.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“No more than you do.”

“What is he telling you?” asked Barbary. “Don’t believe it. He’s a deceiver, you know.”

“There speaks my loyal wife,” said Carleton, raising his eyes to heaven.

They made me feel very uneasy, those two. I couldn’t stop thinking of what he had said about Harriet and her lover. And I wondered with an anticipation tinged with satisfaction when she would come seeking shelter from me.

I could see problems ahead. It would be different in Eversleigh Court from what it had been in Congrève. I was still thinking of this during the banquet in the King’s honour, for belonging to two loyal families I was naturally entitled to be present at this.

I listened to the King, I was given his strangely appealing smile. He was a man whom women loved rather than men.

I heard him say in a musical voice which was not the least of his charms: “It must surely have been my fault that I did not come before. I have met no one today who did not protest that he always wished for my restoration.”

This was murmured with a sardonic look, and I saw the cynical lips lifted in a smile. I thought then that he would be immune from all the flattery, and that, though he liked this outward manifestation of his country’s approval, he suspected its depth. He could see below the glittering surface.

There in the banqueting hall I thought of Harriet, and I wondered what the future held for us all.

After the ceremonies were completed I went back to Eversleigh Court with Matilda, my father-in-law, Charlotte and Carleton. Barbary did not come with us. The days had been stimulating yet exhausting, and I hated to leave my son for longer than a few days. Even then he was in my thoughts all the time. Matilda laughed at me indulgently. “You don’t really trust anyone else to look after him, do you?” she said.

It was more even than my anxieties about my son which made me want to return to the country. It may have had something to do with my glimpse of Harriet. She had sat there on her horse, magnificent, flamboyant, her complexion glowing. I knew that it owed something to artifice now, for I had learned some of her secrets, but that made the sight of her no less beautiful. It was not how beauty was achieved, it was merely a matter of its being there. That gaiety, the belief in the future, how long could it continue? I kept thinking of Carleton’s cynical comment: “James Gilley doesn’t keep his women long.”

I hated to think of Harriet’s being in that position. But I fancied too that both she and Barbary had been somewhat condescending in their attitude towards me. They took lovers wherever they fancied. Let them, but should they despise me because I had no wish to do so? Yet I was sure they did.

I decided I would put them from my mind, and the best way of doing this was to devote myself to domesticity in my new home. There was a great deal to do at Eversleigh. Many of the treasures had still to be brought out of hiding and put in their rightful place. Matilda wanted to set up her stillroom where in the past she had made wines and simples. She loved sweet scents and I had to admit I did too. She liked to fill pomanders and bowls with herbs of her own combining, and sometimes the smell of her concoctions would fill the house and we called that “Simple Time.”

Charlotte shared my pleasure in the house, and there was no doubt that I was on happy terms with my husband’s family.

Chief of all my pleasures was caring for my baby. I had a nurse, Sally Nullens, who had nursed Edwin and Charlotte and had just been waiting, she said, for another little one who would need her. She was old, but I thought it was right to have someone who was trusted by the family, and Edwin showed a partiality for her which settled the matter. She tried to make no difference in her treatment of the two boys, but I knew that Edwin was her favourite.

Ellen was still in the kitchens and Jasper worked in the stables. It was pleasant to see little Chastity again. She came and stood shyly before me, and when I knelt down and put my arms about her, she hugged me tightly. She was clearly one who was glad I was back. I took her to see the babies and she laughed with pleasure. She seemed very happy that we were there, and no wonder. From now on it was not going to be sinful to laugh and play. Chastity seemed to believe that I was responsible for the new state of affairs and regarded me as though I were some sort of benevolent goddess.

Ellen was a little shamefaced. As for Jasper he was inclined to be sullen. Puritanism had been so much a part of him that he would not abandon it lightly. It was clear to see that Ellen was not displeased to escape from the yoke, and although she was loyal to Jasper and if she found herself laughing would stop suddenly and look ashamed, she was glad not to have to suppress her natural inclination to enjoy life.

Ellen liked to talk to me, and I soon had the notion that she was trying to tell me something. Once when I went into the kitchen and we were alone there she said: “It were a terrible tragedy … what happened to the young master.”

I nodded.

She went on: “We were not to blame. That’s what I want you to know. ’Tweren’t us. ’Twere nothing to do with us.”

“Don’t let’s talk of it, Ellen,” I said. “It distresses us all and nothing can bring him back.”

“But I think, mistress, that you may blame us. I want you to know it was not through us …”

“Ellen,” I interrupted, “it was my fault. I was careless. I did not consider that it would be thought irreligious to give a child a pretty button. It seemed such nonsense to me.”

Ellen flushed with a certain shame. “It was thought to be, mistress. And Jasper, he was of the opinion that it was bad for Chastity.”

“I understand, Ellen. And it was my carelessness that was to blame. Then that man came asking questions, and I betrayed us. We can talk of it now. There is no longer need for secrecy. Because of my carelessness my husband was killed.”

“’Twere not because of your talk, mistress. ’Twas not one of us that killed him. ’Twas something else.”

“I don’t understand you, Ellen.”

“I shouldn’t speak of it. But I know that you blame yourself. ’Twere known before. ’Twas not as you thought.”

“You mean it was not one of your friends who killed my husband?”

“I mean, mistress, that it was not because of what you said. They were growing wise to why you were at Eversleigh and there would have been trouble in time. But it were not because of you that he was killed.”

“Ellen, you are trying to comfort me.”

“You should be comforted, mistress. ’Twere no fault of yours. I tell you that. I can say no more. But you should not fret. You had no hand in it.”

I pressed her hand warmly. Ellen was a kindhearted, good woman now that she was at liberty to show her true nature.

“You must be happy, mistress,” she went on looking searchingly into my face. “You have the dear baby. He will be your strength and comfort. And as for the rest, you must say it was as the good Lord meant it to be, and perhaps he was saving you sorrow in one way while giving it in another.”

When I was in my room that night I thought, as I always did, of the nights Edwin and I had spent there. I remembered how he would often come in late at night and would sometimes leave early in the morning. I had not realized then the danger of his mission. I thought of Ellen’s words. It was almost as though she knew something and was holding it back.

It was not they who had killed him, she implied. Not the band of Puritans who had grown suspicious of our presence in the house. Who then?

I dozed and fell into a half dream. Carleton was in that dream, with his wife beside him. She was laughing at me for my simplicity. They both were. Then Ellen was there. We did not kill your husband, mistress. ’Twere not us.

Barbary’s voice, rather shrill and strident, broke into my dreams. “I have heard of you. You have a fine son, I believe.” And she was laughing at Carleton, and suddenly he brought something he had been holding behind his back and placed it over his face. It was a mask, evil, horrible and frightening. I screamed and woke myself up.

“Edwin?” I cried. “Edwin …”

I was calling to my son and I had to get out of bed to assure myself that he was safe.

He was lying in his cot, smiling seraphically in his sleep. In the next cot was Leigh, one chubby hand clutching the coverlet.

All was well in the nursery. I had had a bad dream but the memory of it would not be dismissed. It stayed in my mind like a sleeping snake waiting to uncoil and strike. A vague uneasiness had come to me.

I was very reluctant to leave my son, and for that reason I remained at Eversleigh Court and did not go to London and the King’s Court, which I could so easily have done. If I went away even for a day, I would be uneasy, so that I could never have enjoyed any of the jaunts which had been arranged for me, in which case, as I explained to my mother-in-law and Charlotte, I was best at home. They agreed with me. Charlotte had no desire for society. She loved to be with the children and I was delighted that she seemed to have a special devotion for Leigh. In the beginning she had not wished to see him, which was understandable; then her mood changed, and she really began to look on him as hers. This was good, because I was afraid that the little boy might begin to notice that Edwin was specially favoured, and I thought it might give rise to jealousy. Leigh had a strong personality, vociferous and demanding—taking after his mother, I thought. He had inherited her lovely eyes and was going to be very handsome, there was no doubt of that. He did not seem to notice that he was of any less importance in the nursery than Edwin and had a habit of pushing himself forward as though it was his right. This was amusing, while he was so young, and Edwin was of such a gentle nature that he loved everybody and seemed to be of the opinion that everyone loved him … which they did. But perhaps not everyone. … I often wondered what Carleton thought of him.

Not that Carleton ever came to the nursery, or showed the slightest interest in the children. He was at Eversleigh now and then, for there was much to be done on the estate and that was his main preoccupation. But he did spend a certain amount of time at Court. He was, Charlotte told me, on terms of intimacy with the King and they enjoyed each other’s company immensely.

Nearly two years had passed since our return to England, and during that time my father had received lands and a title from the King for his services. He was now a baron, Lord Flamstead. This was gratifying and no more than he deserved. My mother was very happy. She had her family with her and I was not so very far off. We could meet now and then and she could have her brood almost completely under her wing. Cromwell’s men had made almost a ruin of Far Flamstead and there was a great deal to do in the restoration of it. It was an exciting project to rebuild, and under my mother’s direction, work was going on apace. She often accompanied my father to Court and she was, I knew, planning to get Lucas married. I doubt she had ever been so happy.

In spite of everything she did not forget me. I knew I had always been the very special favourite of my parents. I was their first child. They had suffered for me. I was a vindication to my father that he could beget healthy children and beneath that rather austere exterior, he was a sentimental man.

If only Edwin were alive, I used to think, I could be perfectly happy.

What celebrations there were when I visited Flamstead. My parents were determined to show me how much I meant to them. I took Edwin with me, and my father-in-law insisted that I travel in his carriage, a new acquisition of which he was very proud, and I set out accompanied by my father-in-law and about twenty men to guard me. I felt very moved that he showed such concern for me. He travelled all the way with us and stayed with us for two days before returning to Eversleigh.

When I arrived my parents said that now I was there with their grandson, their pleasure was complete. I was to stay for two weeks.

It was wonderful to be with my family. Dick, Angie and Fenn had grown up quite a bit. They remembered Congrève, though, and I think, in spite of everything, they looked back on those days with affection and perhaps a certain nostalgia.

They chattered a great deal about the play we had performed and they often mentioned Harriet, of course. Where was Harriet? they wanted to know. She had gone away, I told them. And did she take her baby with her? No, her baby had stayed behind with Edwin. Fenn informed the company that he was an uncle, which brought in a light note. I knew my parents did not want to talk about Harriet.

But my mother brought up the subject when we were alone.

“I am glad she has gone,” she said. “I did not like her being there. She is an adventuress. She imposed on your kindness of heart.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “but we had such fun, Mother. The children loved her. There is something lovable about her. I hope she will be happy.”

My mother shrugged her shoulders. “Gilley is notorious for his mistresses, apparently. She’ll be passed on to someone else, I daresay. Of course she is outstandingly handsome and will not lack lovers now. But when she gets older …”

I felt depressed thinking of an ageing Harriet, poor, lonely, no longer able to appeal to men.

My mother touched my hand lightly. “Don’t worry about her. You have done everything for her. You have even taken on the care of her son.”

“He’s an engaging little fellow.”

“Most babies are,” said my mother indulgently. “Arabella, perhaps before long you will marry again.”

I stared at her in horror.

“My dear child, it would be natural. You are young. You should have someone to care for you.”

“No one could care for me more than the Eversleighs. They are so good to me.”

“I knew they would be and I rejoice. But if you should fall in love again?”

“I couldn’t. You did not know Edwin, Mother. Nobody could be like him. If he had been less perfect … perhaps it would have been easy. But I should compare everyone with him …”

“Later on, perhaps?”

“Never,” I said vehemently.

I rode with my father around the estate. He delighted in showing me his new lands and what he was doing to restore the old ones. On the ruins of the old castle folly my mother was making a beautiful garden. She spent a great deal of time there.

“It is a busy life,” she told me. “I am in London with your father, and when I am weary of that we can come back here. I am hoping Lucas will have a place at Court. The King highly favours your father, although he is not one of his cronies. That could not be. Charles respects him as one of his great generals, but the men who surround him are more like Carleton Eversleigh. Amusing, witty, rather lax in morals … all that the King is himself. I believe Carleton Eversleigh is often in his company.”

“He is frequently at the Court,” I said. “He is very good at managing the estate, I hear, but I believe he is restless and likes variety.”

“Like many men, I daresay. I thank God your father was never like that. That’s the reason why he goes to Court only on business. The King is clever … cleverer than sometimes appears, and while he can be excessively lighthearted with some, your father is very impressed with his seriousness in other matters.”

“Mother, I believe you are a very happy woman.”

“You are right. I have suffered a great deal in my life, as you know. And even when your father and I were married, we were in exile and often separated. Now it seems we have come home to happiness.”

“Is it all as you would want it to be, Mother?”

“Except one thing. I should like to see you happy.”

“l am … as far as I can ever be without Edwin.”

“One day,” she said.

I smiled at her. I wanted to tell her that having known the perfect relationship I could not bring myself to accept something less.

Returning to Eversleigh Court I was given a welcome as warm as that I had had at Flamstead. I certainly had no reason to doubt that I was greatly loved.

Edwin was pounced upon by his grandmother, closely examined and declared more beautiful, more intelligent, than he had been when he went away and, of course, quite perfect.

Sally Nullens told me that Master Leigh had enjoyed having the nursery to himself. He did not regard Edwin’s return with a great deal of enthusiasm, so perhaps that was the explanation. Chastity came with a daisy chain she had made and insisted on putting it round my neck. Ellen had made a tansy cake which she knew I liked, and Charlotte came to my room and told me how relieved she was that I was back safely. Then she gave me an account of Leigh’s doings during my absence and I was happy to think that she was beginning to love the child. Jasper examined the coach to see if any damage had been done to it, and muttered to himself so that I was not sure whether any had been. Poor Jasper, he was an uneasy man, as was to be expected. There were many like him in the neighbourhood, staunch supporters of the Roundheads who were not quite capable of making the easy turnabout as so many were.

It had been a happy visit and it was a gratifying homecoming.

Carleton joined us for dinner—a very happy occasion said my father-in-law because I was back with precious Edwin.

Carleton was fresh from Court with the news from there. We had always heard most of the Court news from him. We knew that the body of Oliver Cromwell and some of his supporters had been dug up and publicly hanged at Tyburn; that some people who had been buried in Henry VII’s chapel and at Westminster were dug up and buried in an ordinary churchyard. We knew that there were many who sought revenge on those who had turned them out of their country and put them in exile.

But, said Carleton, the King is weary of these recriminations. He says, “Enough. What he wants to do is to be left in easy peace with his subjects. He’ll love them if they love him; and if they will take him with all his faults, he’ll take them. He is an easygoing man who finds quarrelling dull and witless, for it brings no good to any.”

I said: “He sounds pleasant but perhaps a little weak.”

“Treason,” cried Carleton. “What if I report you to His Majesty?”

“As he wants me to accept his faults, he must accept mine,” I retorted.

Carleton laughed and said: “How is my little cousin, the all important one?”

“You mean my son?”

“Who else?”

“He fares very well, thank you.”

“Quite a man now. What is he? Two years old?”

“Yes, he is two.”

“Old enough to show his character. I wonder if he will be like his father.”

“I hope and pray so,” I said fervently.

Carleton nodded. “Easygoing,” he murmured. “Wanting all to love him and being ready to love everybody.”

“That’s what you said of the King.”

“Some of us share these characteristics.”

“And you?”

“Ah, I am an unknown quantity. There is only one thing you know of me and that is that you know nothing about me.”

“That,” said Matilda, “is a little example of Carleton’s Court talk.”

“Very subtle,” I said.

“Ah, now you mock me. Let me say how glad I am that you are safely back. I trust you will go to Town for the wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“That of our Sovereign Lord and the Infanta of Portugal. I heard she is a pretty little thing but homely, and she is to bring us Bombay and Tangiers with her dowry. Barbara Castlemaine is fuming. She’ll brook no rival. What airs these women give themselves!”

“I’ll dare swear we shall be expected to go for the wedding celebrations,” said Lord Eversleigh.

“Yes,” said Carleton. “I think it will be expected of you.”

“I shall not want to leave Edwin,” I said quickly.

Carleton was watching me intently. “I believe you think there are malicious influences at work against that child.”

“They would have little chance if there were,” retorted Matilda. “I never knew a child more cared for!”

I was deeply aware of Carleton’s gaze and felt an alarm stirring within me again.

Time was passing quickly. Life had settled into a pattern. My mother still thought of finding a husband for me but I always eluded them. I could not forget Edwin. I looked back and saw the happiness I had shared with him, and I felt that if ever I married again it would be disloyal to his memory. I had decided that I would devote myself to my son, for Edwin lived again in him.

Edwin was now four years old. Bright, intelligent and getting so like his father that I sometimes felt like weeping when I saw him. He was quite different from Leigh, who was noisy and always liked Edwin’s toys better than his own. Edwin was of a mild nature, peaceable. He would smile seraphically even when Leigh snatched what was his. I used to remonstrate sometimes and tell him he must stand up for what he wanted. Edwin admired Leigh and was happy to play with him. Leigh was artful enough to realize this and used it as a form of blackmail. I could see his mother in Leigh just as I could see Edwin’s father in him.

It was about this time that Lucas married. Her name was Maria and she was the daughter of Lord Cray, one of the members of the Court circle. Lucas had become debonair and as the son of my father very welcome at Court. He planned to go into politics and was already making his way in that direction.

It was silly of me not to want to stir from the country, but I didn’t. I knew, of course, that I should have to go to London for the wedding which was to take place at the Crays’ town residence. My mother visited us a month or so before and she said I must really bestir myself. It was foolish of me to bury myself in the country. I should meet interesting people, and now that Edwin was getting older and Sally Nullens had proved herself so reliable, she was going to insist on my emerging from my cocoon.

I knew what she was thinking of, a marriage for me. Lucas would be happily settled; it would be Dick’s turn next. And there was I, her eldest daughter, shutting myself away in the country! It would not do.

I must admit that when she sent for the seamstress and showed me some of the latest fashions, which were becoming very extravagant and amusing, I felt a certain excitement bubbling up within me. She pulled my hair loose and demonstrated some of the new styles. We laughed together over the foretop—an odd loop of hair on the forehead and the loose curls on the brow which were called “favourites.” We couldn’t decide which suited me best—curls close to the cheeks which were known as “confidents,” or drawn away from the face and looped over the ears which were “heartbreakers.”

My mother said: “You see what fun it is to mingle with society.”

“We entertain now and then at Eversleigh. Matilda enjoys it.”

“I know. But this is not London, my child. You are behind the times here. You should visit Town more often. You should know what is going on. You should attend the theatre now and then. The changes that have been made there are astonishing. The King is devoted to the theatre and often goes. You are shutting yourself away with the past. I am going to stop it. This visit will be a start.”

I shook my head. “I have come to love Eversleigh Court,” I said. “The countryside is beautiful. I love to ride out. Charlotte and I are good friends.

“Ah, there is another! I cannot understand you young girls. How different I was. I wanted life … adventure … So much is changing now, Arabella. You would be amazed at what is happening. After the age of the Puritans we have swung in the other direction. Too far, some say. I expect they are right. Now for your gowns. You need them badly. What you wear here will not do for London, I do assure you.”

To be with my mother was a stimulation. She seemed younger than Charlotte and younger than myself in my present mood. She radiated such happiness. She was so clearly delighted with her life that I caught something of her enthusiasm and I was excited by the prospect she was holding out to me.

I would laugh at her as she sat there while I was fitted. She insisted that the sleeves of my gowns leave my arms bare to the elbow.

“Such pretty arms,” she crooned. “Then I had dresses with the sleeves slit all the way and caught here and there with ribbons.”

“The height of fashion!” she exulted. She had brought with her silks, brocades and velvets. “You should see the shops in London. Every shopkeeper is determined to outdo all the others and so it goes on. I declare that the men are looking even prettier than the women. Lucas has Rhingrave breeches seamed with scarlet and silver lace. I can tell you, your brother is a sight to be seen!”

And while I was fitted and paraded I felt a change creeping over me. I felt young and gay again and suddenly I remembered that it was when Harriet had gone out of my life that I had found much of its savour gone.

I said to my mother: “Have you seen anything of Sir James Gilley lately?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Why, yes, he was at some Court function a few months ago. I saw him riding in the park. I hear his new mistress is a very notorious lady. She is very young, barely sixteen, and has the distinction of having pleased the King … briefly.”

Oh, Harriet, I thought, what are you doing now?

It was strange to think of Lucas as a married man. His bride was a pretty girl and they were clearly in love, which delighted my parents. Although they wanted a suitable marriage for Lucas, they would not have been completely happy if the pair had not been in love.

He was no longer my little brother. I could not subdue him. I was the sister up from the country and he could patronize me as I used to him.

It was a turnabout I did not relish, and I knew then that my mother was right. I had shut myself away with no interest but in domestic matters when great events were going on in the world.

Lucas’s wedding was celebrated with a banquet and a ball. I knew little of the new dancing but I had a natural rhythm and was able to make a reasonable showing.

My parents presented me with pride to people whom they thought would please me, and so I met several young men who, I suppose would be called eligible. Many of them had known Edwin and the fact that I was his young widow made me a figure of interest. But having known and loved Edwin I found every one of them suffered in comparison. Their wide breeches edged with lace, their flowing cravats, their enormous wigs, their brocade and satin coats, with ribbons everywhere, about their waists, in their shirt-sleeves, even tying their periwigs, made them seem like exquisite popinjays. It was hard to think of these delicate scented creatures as men. How different from my father and Lord Eversleigh in their uniforms which gave them such dignity. I felt nothing but the need to escape from these scented creatures with their swift repartee and a sort of spurious wit and constant innuendo.

I was a widow and therefore no inexperienced virgin. I was supposed to understand and to respond to their overtures.

I was rather relieved when Carleton Eversleigh took my hand and led me into the dance.

“I am not an expert performer,” he warned me. “But at least I can rescue you from poor Jemmy Trimble. He’s a foolish fellow and I could see how he wearied you.”

I raised my eyebrows and he went on: “Mind you, you might consider the change one for the worst.”

I replied: “It was good of you to give me a thought.”

“It is not good at all to follow one’s inclination. I saw you and thought how charming you look in fashionable garments. You should adorn the fashionable scene more often. You bring a freshness to it. You have a look of coming from another sphere.”

“The country mouse, perhaps?”

“Mice can be such pretty things, especially when they come from the country.”

“And what are all these exquisite creatures? Cats, I suppose, come to catch the mice?”

“Exactly. They are on the prowl. You see they have so recently been let out to roam freely. They can now adventure in the open. Their wickedness has become merely amusing. It earns them a laugh from their friends instead of eternal damnation as in the past.”

“You are very flippant.”

“It was ever a failing of mine. But without flippancy of any sort I will say how it delights me to see you here. You have at last decided to trust precious Edwin to his nurses. I’ll warrant you are wondering even at this moment whether he is safe. Admit it.”

“I do think about him.”

“Old Sally Nullens looked after his father and his aunt. She is like an angel with a flaming sword. I can tell you I had one or two brushes with her when I was trying to make a man of Edwin. She was afraid a little rough treatment would kill her darling. I wonder if history is going to repeat itself?”

“What do you mean?”

“We can’t have little Edwin growing up into an effeminate young gentleman afraid to venture out in case a drop of rain gives him a cold.”

“I shall know how to bring him up.”

“In some ways, yes. You will smother him with love and devotion. But even now he is aware that if he becomes too venturesome Mama is thrown into a panic. ‘What would your dear mama say?’ asks Sally Nullens. ‘That’s dangerous, that is.’ And little Edwin thinks: ‘I must be careful. I am so precious. I might get hurt if I did that.’ That’s no way to bring up a boy, Cousin Arabella.”

“You exaggerate. He will be taught riding, fencing, everything that a boy ought to know.”

“He lacks a father. Now a child needs both his parents. The mother’s loving care and the father’s guiding hand.”

“It is good of you to be so concerned.”

“Concerned. Of course I’m concerned. We are talking about the future Lord Eversleigh. Young Edwin will have a big responsibility and so will you.”

“His grandfather is going to live a good many years yet.”

“We hope that will be so, but when a grandson inherits he usually does so before he is mature. That is why Edwin will have to be rather especially reared for his role. I promise to help you. It is, after all, my affair. In a way I am his guardian. I know the Eversleigh affairs as well as my uncle does. You forget that before Edwin was born and after his father was dead, I was the heir to all that will now pass to your son.”

I could not completely suppress the shiver which ran through me.

“Oh, yes,” he went on. “Twice my expectations have been foiled. Once long ago before your husband was born—for I am some years older—I believe that on my uncle’s death all would pass to me. Then Edwin appeared and I took a step back. Edwin died and I took one step forward. Then little Edwin arrives and I am back where I was.”

“You are … resentful?”

“Wise men are not resentful of fate, dear Cousin. What is to be will be. That’s a wise saying for how could it be otherwise, and to rail against what is is a waste of time. I speak thus to show you what an interest I have in the Eversleigh inheritance, and I want your son to be worthy of it when it comes to him.”

“I believe his grandfather is fully aware of this. He will take Edwin in hand as soon as he is of an age to understand.”

“And I will play my part. I hope you will not marry rashly.”

“I have no intention of marrying rashly or otherwise.”

“Sometimes these intentions come overnight. I believe you met and married Edwin within a short space of time, so perhaps you are a lady who makes up her mind quickly. I sympathize. It is a habit of my own. I know what I want and I go out to get it … as I am sure you do. But I want you to know that I am at hand to help you.”

“I will remember that.”

“I wish that I were free to help more.”

I did not understand and I was silent. I heard him laugh quietly and there might have been a hint of mockery in that laugh. “I could think of a good solution to young Edwin’s future. Alas, there are too many obstacles.”

“I really don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Briefly, what a good thing it would be if you had the inclination to marry and I were free.”

I drew away from him in horror.

“Oh, I am merely thinking of the convenience of the matter. Nothing more, I do assure you. Merely a supposition, you see. ‘If’ and ‘if’ and ‘if’ again.”

“An insurmountable barrier of ‘ifs,’” I said grimly. “I can see my father. He is looking this way. If you will take me to him.”

“Your pleasure is mine. Oh, one thing more. You should visit the theatre while you are in Town. I am arranging a party for tomorrow. Charlotte will come and my uncle. I am asking your parents and I trust you will be of the party.”

“Thank you,” I said.

He disturbed me, that man. I did not like the manner in which he had pressed my hand as he had talked. If it had not been for the mockery in his eyes and the light and flippant talk to which I was becoming accustomed, I should have been more than a little alarmed. I could not believe that I heard aright. Could he really have meant that if circumstances were different we might have married! Of course it would be simply for Edwin’s sake. He saw himself as the only one who could bring up my son in a suitable manner and that was because little Edwin had stepped in and taken what Carleton had hoped would be his. But in any case he was married. Thank God for that. What an extraordinary man! What an extraordinary conversation! But that was the changing society. It was growing more and more daring. People behaved as though they had been in prison for years and now that they were let out wanted to make up for the suppressions of the past.

There was something about Carleton Eversleigh which disturbed me. I would not admit it to myself, but somewhere at the back of my mind I accepted the fact that he had a powerful effect on me. My mother had said something which I couldn’t forget. It was: “Women like us should marry. We are not meant to live alone.” I knew then that she was thinking of her sister Angelet who had disliked physical contact and consequently had ruined her marriage. I did not fully understand myself in this respect. My relationship with Edwin had been completely satisfying. I had shared his passion and yet I could not feel desire for anyone else. I longed for Edwin. I was still in love with Edwin and I believed I should be for the rest of my life. I wanted Edwin, but I could not think of putting anyone in his place.

Perhaps I was not fully grown. Perhaps I was as Carleton had said, the country mouse. Certainly it seemed that in the few days I had spent here in this society which was so different from that of Eversleigh, my horizons were extending. I was beginning to wonder whether my view of life was too simple. Black had been black, and white, white. I had failed to see the shading in between.

These brought me back to Carleton. I believed him to be a rake. He fitted into this licentious society. He had a wife and I was well aware that they went, as they said, “their own ways.” I supposed that sort of life suited them both. They set great store on what they called “their freedom.” But were they happy? I wondered. I was not sure. There was so much of which I was not sure and particularly regarding Carleton.

What disturbed me about Carleton was that as soon as he entered a room I was aware of him. He was taller than most men and he had an air of complete indifference to the effect he was having, which I suppose would be called poise. Certainly he gave the impression that nothing would ruffle him. Edwin had lacked that. Edwin was always eager to make everyone feel easy and happy. Carleton gave the impression that he was indifferent to them. He was so sure of himself. Arrogant! I thought. And something else besides. There was in him an essential masculinity which was apparent in spite of the fashionable garments he wore. No amount of velvet and brocade could make Carleton effeminate.

I wondered why he spent so much time at Court when I was sure that his heart was at Eversleigh. But of course having lost his inheritance he would need to make a career for himself and perhaps he would do that at Court. At the same time he was concerned for Eversleigh. He wanted to bring young Edwin up that he might be worthy to undertake his duties.

All sorts of thoughts were whirling round in my mind—I refused to catch them and examine them. I didn’t want to. Some were wildly absurd … too ridiculous to consider for a moment.

But I wished I could stop thinking of Carleton Eversleigh.

My parents had another engagement and could not join us, so it was my father-in-law, Charlotte, Carleton and myself who rode to the playhouse in Lord Eversleigh’s carriage. It was an adventure in itself to ride through the London streets to the King’s House in Drury Lane. Those streets were full of noise and bustle. Carriages like our own were making their way to the playhouse and in them sat exquisitely clad gallants and patched and painted ladies. What a contrast they were to ragged beggars and those who lived by their wits. I saw them darting about among the passers-by, and I am sure many of the latter would be poorer by their purses before the night was out. The streets were ill-lit and mostly cobbled, dirty and unsavoury, and I should not have liked to be on foot and splashed by the filth which was thrown up by carriage wheels. I had never seen such a contrast of riches and poverty as there was on the streets of London.

“Never venture far on foot,” Carleton warned me. “You would not be safe for a moment.”

“I daresay,” I retorted, “that I could give as good an account of myself as anyone.”

“My dear,” put in Lord Eversleigh, “these beggars are skilled at their craft. They have a hundred villainies at their fingertips. There are trained bands of thieves roaming the streets.”

“The night watchmen, I hear, are of little use,” added Charlotte.

“You are right. They have become something of a joke,” replied Carleton. “Poor fellows, every night they take their lives in their hands.”

“What a dangerous place London is!” I cried. “I wonder why people set such store by it.”

“It is alive, Cousin,” said Carleton, fixing his eyes on me. They glowed with some emotion. Amusement, contempt, indulgence? I wasn’t sure. “I would rather face danger than stagnation. I am sure you would too.”

“Is it stagnation to live in quiet dignity?”

“Ha, you see, my lord, your daughter-in-law loves a discourse. I do not complain. I do myself. One of these days, dear cousin, we will thrash out the matter, for now, if I mistake not, we are turning into Drury Lane and you will have your introduction to the King’s theatre. This is His Majesty’s favourite, I do believe, and the Duke’s in Lincoln Inn does not enjoy the same patronage, for naturally fashion follows the King.”

As we alighted from the carriage, beggars pressed round us. I wanted to give them something, but Carleton had his arm through mine and drew me away.

“Never open your purse in the streets,” he whispered, “even though you have a protector.”

I disliked the way in which he said the word “protector,” but I could not protest as Lord Eversleigh and Charlotte would have heard and I thought might have wondered why I always wanted to take up Carleton’s words and contradict them.

I shall never forget my first sight of the interior of the playhouse. There was a magic about it and I guessed I was not the only one who felt this. We were in a box close to the stage, which gave me an opportunity to study the rest of the audience. There was a great deal of noise as patrons came in. There was the pit, which I should have felt not the best place to sit, for the roof above it was open and I imagined what would happen if the rain came in. The occupants of that part of the playhouse would have to scatter or be drenched. The middle gallery was slightly more expensive than the gallery above, which was now filling rapidly.

In the box opposite was a very fine lady in a mask, and with her an overdressed gentleman. The gentleman bowed as we entered and Carleton and Lord Eversleigh bowed back. The gentleman—if he deserved such a name—fixed his gaze on first me and then Charlotte and then came back to me.

“I hate these insolent men,” muttered Charlotte.

“Dear Cousin, that is Lord Weldon,” explained Carleton. “He thinks he does you an honour by gazing on you.”

“An insult more likely,” retorted Charlotte.

“His lady does not like it.”

“And who is she?” I asked.

“Don’t ask me. He changes mistresses every night.”

“Perhaps one day he’ll find his Scheherazade,” I suggested.

“She’ll need more than exciting tales to keep him, I do assure you.”

“At least she does not want us to see her face, since she is masked.”

“A fashion, Cousin.”

“Should we not have worn them?”

“You have no need to hide behind them. You are in respectable company. Weldon has his eye on you though. It would not surprise me if he seeks me out tomorrow with eager enquiries.”

“I hope you will reply to him in a suitable manner, and let him know that you consider his impertinence an insult to your family.”

“Dear Cousin, I will challenge him to a duel if that pleases you.”

“Duelling should be stopped,” said Lord Eversleigh. “It’s against the law in any case.”

“Agreed, Uncle, but although we ourselves might be guilty of insulting certain ladies, we must become incensed when insults are directed against our own.” Carleton was smiling cynically and I turned away from him, and looked below to where the orange girls with their baskets were trying to tempt the members of the audience to buy, and exchanging badinage with the men. There were scuffles as the girls were seized and some of the men tried to kiss them. Oranges rolled on the floor, and people trying to retrieve them scrambled about shrieking with laughter.

The place was filled with noise and the smell of none too clean humanity; yet it excited me. I was all eagerness for the play.

It was to be The Merry Wives of Windsor. Carleton told us that it had to be comedy. Nobody wanted tragedy anymore. They wanted laughter not tears. “Tears went out with the Roundheads.” They wanted frolics on the stage, not falling bodies. And what they wanted most was women on the stage. For so long men had taken women’s parts and although some like Edward Kynaston took women’s parts still, and looked so pretty on the stage that it was said many women fell in love with him and used to wait for him after the play and take him out in their carriages, it was the women who were now appearing on the stage who were largely responsible for its growing popularity.

Carleton told us how the King had gone to see Hamlet in which Kynaston was playing the Queen, and when the play was late in starting Charles demanded to know why. The manager, beside himself with anxiety, went to the royal box and explained: “May it please Your Majesty, the Queen is not yet shaved.”

His Majesty was highly delighted with the explanation and was in a particularly good mood which reflected throughout the playhouse and made a success of the play.

“His Majesty, of course, has already shown himself somewhat partial to the ladies,” said Carleton. “And his loyal subjects like to follow him in all his ways.”

Lord Eversleigh shook his head. “I say this out of no lack of loyalty,” he said, “but I think it would make his loyal subjects happier if he were more devoted to his Queen—and less to those harpies who surround him.”

“The Castlemaine’s hold is as strong as ever,” Carleton put in. “But that does not prevent the royal eye roving and the playhouse has much to offer … as you will see when the play begins.”

He seemed to be amused by some secret joke. I wondered what. I was soon to discover, for candles set along the front of the stage were lighted and the play was about to begin.

Shallow and Slender had emerged, but for a few moments nothing could be heard because of the noise in the audience. Shallow came to the front of the stage and some shouted: “Look out. You’ll catch your breeches in the flame.”

Shallow held up a hand. “My lords and ladies, one and all. I beg silence that we may play before you.”

The manner in which he spoke took me back to a snowy night in Congrève when the strolling players had come. The dramatic cadences and gestures reminded me of the strolling players.

The audience grew quieter and some shouted: “Come on, then, man.”

“With your permission,” said Shallow making a deep bow.

The play had begun.

Never having been in a playhouse before I was in a state of great excitement. I had always loved to playact and now I was seeing it done in a professional manner. I knew the play and I settled to enjoy myself.

It was scene one of act two when Mistress Page came onto the stage.

“What! have I ’scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am now a subject for them?”

She was holding the paper in her hand and my heart leaped as I watched her. There was no mistaking her. Harriet!

I turned and saw Carleton’s eyes on me. He was smiling sardonically. He had known. He had brought us here for this purpose.

I turned my attention to the stage. She had changed little. Perhaps she was less slim. Perhaps she was a little older. But she was as beautiful as ever.

I was aware that Charlotte had grown tense. She had recognized her too.

I turned my attention back to the stage. I could not stop looking at Harriet. She had that magnetism of which I had always been aware and the audience was, too, for they had ceased to fidget and cough and there was a deep silence in the playhouse.

I was deeply moved. I could not follow the play, I could only think of Harriet. What had happened to her? How had she come to this? Had James Gilley discarded her or had she left him of her own free will? Was she happy? Was she doing what she wanted? I would speak to her tonight.

I was aware of Charlotte tense beside me.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Did you see?” she whispered.

I nodded.

“He must have left her. She has come to this. …”

Carleton whispered, “Silence, ladies. This audience oddly seems intent upon the stage.”

I kept thinking of her, wondering about her. I felt exhilarated because I had seen her again.

“I must go to her,” I said. “I cannot leave without seeing her.”

Charlotte cried: “No, Arabella! It is wrong. We do not want to see her again.”

“I can’t ignore her,” I said. “I want to see her.”

Carleton said: “I’ll take you to their green-room. She’ll be there, I doubt not.”

“Thank you,” I answered.

“Always at your service,” he whispered.

I could see that he knew his way about the playhouse. The management knew him too. We met a man and told him that we were friends of Mistress Page and would like a word with her.

It could be arranged, was the answer and I saw money pass between them.

For the first time I was grateful to Carleton.

We were shown into a small room and very soon Harriet came in.

“Harriet!” I cried, and I could not stop myself rushing towards her and putting my arms about her.

She embraced me. “I saw you in the box,” she said, “and I knew you would come to see me.”

Carleton bowed. “Your performance was superb,” he said.

She bowed her head. “Thank you, good sir.”

“I will leave you to talk and come and collect you in ten minutes, Cousin.”

Harriet grimaced as the door shut. “I never liked him,” she said.

“Harriet, what are you doing here?”

“I should have thought that was obvious.”

“Are you … do you …”

“I am one of Thomas Killigrew’s players and, believe me, that is something of an achievement.”

“But Sir James …”

“Him! Oh he was just a stepping-stone. I had to get away. He was there … providing the means.”

“So you weren’t in love with him.”

“In love! Oh, my dear romantic Arabella, always thinking of love. What’s the good of love to a girl who has to keep a roof over her head and has a fancy for the luxuries of life.”

“You are so beautiful. You could have married Charles Condey.”

“I see you had sour-faced Charlotte in the box tonight. I’ll warrant she won’t be here to see me.”

“You treated her rather badly, Harriet.”

“Badly? By being kind to a young man who clearly didn’t want Charlotte? But we waste time. Tell me, what are you doing? How do you like England now? How are the boys?”

“Very well and happy.”

“And young Leigh?”

“He’s handsome and knows how to stand up for himself.”

“He gets that from me, and you’re a good mother to him, are you?”

“Harriet, how could you leave him?”

“How could I take him with me? Oh, it was a wrench but what could I do? I could see I wouldn’t have been very welcome with you. Madame Charlotte would hardly want me there. Your mother was not prepared to issue an invitation. It was poor Harriet all alone again. So I said: James Gilley will get me there and I’ll be with him until I’m tired. I always wanted to get onto the stage and here l am.”

“Is it a good life, Harriet?”

She burst out laughing. “Dear Arabella, you always amused me. For me it’s good enough. Full of ups and downs … always exciting. I was made for it. And you? Still brooding for Edwin?”

“There was never anyone like him.”

“What of Carleton?”

“What of him?”

“He has a reputation for being irresistible. I’ve heard he can pick and choose. Castlemaine herself has her eyes on him. He’s a bit too wily for that. He doesn’t want to get in the Black Boy’s bad books.”

“I don’t understand all this talk.”

“Castlemaine’s the King’s mistress and the Black Boy is H.M. himself. Carleton’s quite a character. He sets the town wagging with gossip and then he slips off to Eversleigh and stays there for a while. I hear he is furious because there is now a baby heir. Your own sweet child, Arabella. Oh, there’s quite a bit of gossip about Carleton Eversleigh and I lap it up … having once been a connection of sorts.”

“Harriet, I want to know that you’re happy.”

“I want to know that you are.”

“As happy as I can be without Edwin. Reassure me, Harriet.”

“As happy as I can be without a grand mansion of my own and a fortune so that I can live in luxury until the end of my days.”

“Oh, Harriet,” I said, “it’s been wonderful seeing you.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet again. I intend to be the toast of the London playhouses. Carleton will be coming to take you back now. I’m glad you came, Arabella. There’ll always be something, won’t there, between us two?”

She smiled at me somewhat enigmatically. I couldn’t make out whether she was really happy or not. I felt frustrated and uneasy. I wanted to persuade her to give up the stage and come back with me to Eversleigh.

I knew I couldn’t. For one thing she would refuse, and for another my new family would never agree to it.

I said good-bye to her, and as she kissed me she said: “We’ll meet again. Our lives, as they say in plays, are interwoven while we are on earth together.”

It was the most exciting experience of my trip to London.

Plague

EVERSLEIGH SEEMED DULL AFTER London, but I was glad to be back with Edwin and to reassure myself that he had not suffered from my temporary desertion.

Charlotte and I went first to the nursery where we were greeted vociferously by the boys, and when they saw what we had brought for them their welcome became even warmer. We had been careful that what one had so should the other, so they each had a popgun with clay pellets, a trumpet apiece made from cows’ horn, and kites—a blue one for Edwin, a red one for Leigh. With these and the peppermint drops in boxes with pictures of Whitehall Palace on them, the boys were enchanted. It was typical that Leigh’s favourite should be the popgun which he proceeded to fire at everyone and everything while Edwin loved his trumpet. The kites were almost equally favoured, I think, and they wanted to go out immediately to fly them. Charlotte said: “Which do you love best, us or the presents?” Both little boys looked puzzled. Leigh kept his eyes on his popgun, Edwin fingered his trumpet. Then with a gesture which moved me deeply because it reminded me of his father, Edwin put down his trumpet and ran to me and flung his arms about me.

Leigh thoughtfully did the same to Charlotte.

We laughed a great deal and then Edwin said: “If you hadn’t come back you couldn’t have brought the presents, could you?”

Leigh nodded solemnly.

Even though this did suggest that the presents might be more desirable than our company, we were amused and delighted with the sagacity of the children.

They were happy days—flying the kites, listening to the sound of the trumpets and escaping from clay pellets. We were so glad to be back. But all the time I was haunted by my memories of Harriet. I could not get her out of my mind.

I thought of Carleton who had obviously arranged our visit to the playhouse knowing she was there. There was undoubtedly a streak of mischief in him, but what disturbed me most was his undoubted interest in me and his reference to the fact that Edwin had come between him and his inheritance.

That he loved Eversleigh I had no doubt. Its concerns were of the utmost importance to him. He was very often there, and I noticed that the visits to London were becoming more rare.

It was towards the end of the summer when Carleton’s wife, Barbary, came to Eversleigh Court. Carleton treated her with an indifference which I found ungallant.

I realized during the day after her arrival that she was far from well. When I enquired of the servants—not having seen her throughout the day—I heard that she was in her bed, feeling too unwell to arise.

I went to see her.

She looked ill and I asked if there was anything she needed.

She shook her head. “I have come to the quiet of the country for a rest,” she said. “I do now and then … when I feel tired. I don’t think her ladyship likes it very much, but, after all, this is my husband’s home and I have a right to be here, don’t you think?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well that’s nice to hear since you are a kind of deputy châtelaine. Don’t you feel lonely living here?” She waved her hand disparagingly.

“I find it peaceful,” I said, “as you obviously do since you come for a rest. Do you often feel that need?”

She nodded. “Quiet … one day very like another, cows mooing, sheep bleating, and the birds are nice in the spring.”

“I had no idea you had a taste for such things.”

“You must know, Cousin Arabella, that things are not always what they seem.”

“That’s true. Shall I get something sent up to you?”

“Sally Nullens makes a good posset. I believe the children have it when they’re irritable.”

“I’ll ask her.”

I went down to Sally who was in the nursery sewing Leigh’s jacket where he had torn it.

Yes, she had the very thing. She had given it to Mistress Barbary before. “Poor Mistress Barbary,” she commented, “I don’t think she is a very happy woman.”

“I should think not … married to …”

“Well, it takes two to make a marriage work … or go wrong, I’ve always heard. They’re wrong, these arranged marriages. Young people should be left to themselves.”

“So theirs was arranged?”

“Yes, ten years ago. Master Carleton was pretending to be a Roundhead. Hers was one of the families who had always been on Cromwell’s side. I reckon he married her to show what a good Roundhead he was. He played the part well, considering. The marriage never worked. They went their own ways. Wild, both of them—she perhaps because she’d been brought up so strict, and he because that was his way. Now she comes here to be made well. My possets do her a world of good, she always says. But I think the rest has a lot to do with it. I think sometimes something comes over her and she would like things to be different.”

I took to going to see how she was and a kind of friendship grew up between us. That she was not averse to my visits was obvious and after a while she began to talk to me.

She normally visited Eversleigh, she told me, when Carleton was away. “We don’t like to meet, of course.”

“That seems strange since he is your husband.”

“He didn’t want the marriage. He only entered into it because he had to create a good impression at that time. People were suspicious of his motives. There was a danger of his being found out. Marriage with a family like ours gave him standing … if you know what I mean. My father was a dedicated Roundhead. Marriage into such a family was a guarantee for a man who might have aroused suspicions because he belonged to a family most of whom were in exile with the King.”

“I see … a marriage of convenience.”

“Exactly.”

“And you didn’t love each other at all?”

She was silent. Then she said: “You know a little of him.”

“Y … yes.”

“He is unique. I have never known anyone like him. There’s a strength about him … a power. He’s the sort of man who, when he makes up his mind that he wants something, won’t rest until it is his.”

“Is that so unique?”

“No. But he is a man who goes out to get it with more vigour than anyone I know. I was very young when we were married. Seventeen, in fact. Young, romantic, and heartily sick of the way of life in my parents’ house. If you smiled during the week, that was sin, and if you happened to on a Sunday you were set for hellfire.”

“I saw some of it when I came here.”

“Yes, but that was pretence, wasn’t it? You could escape from it. I had scarcely known anything else. And then to be with him. For three weeks he treated me like a wife. I believed he meant it. It was a new way of life—exciting, intriguing. It was all pretence on his part, of course. But he never had difficulty in convincing a woman that he was fond of her. He’s practised so long that it’s second nature to him. Then I found he was unfaithful. As a pious Roundhead he was living dangerously, but that was what he liked. I think as much as women he likes danger. I was young and angry.”

I said: “You were in love with him.”

“It was easy to fall in love with him. He had those strong good looks. He suggested power. He had all the tricks at his fingertips. He knew exactly how to treat me. When I remonstrated with him, the truth came out. He had married me because it was necessary. He liked me well enough but I must not expect his exclusive devotion. I should do what I wished and he would do what he wished. There was no reason why we should not go our separate ways. You can imagine how hurt I was … how angry. You’ve guessed I was in love with him. I was a romantic girl. I was ready to believe that I had made the perfect marriage. And now I was told we would go our own ways. I am impulsive. I am not a good character. I was so hurt and bewildered I went to bed that night with one of the grooms who had been watching me as much as he dared with a certain look in his eyes. Now you are shocked.”

“No. I think I understand.”

“You. With your dead husband to whom you remain faithful forever! You couldn’t begin to understand. I am no prude. I will not pretend. I like men … as Carleton likes women. He taught me to cast aside all scruples so I did. He knew, of course. I think it pleased him. He rather encouraged me in my affairs, although he was a little shocked by the groom. He took me to London and introduced me to people of what was considered a more worthy station of life to share my bed. I have had scores of lovers since. Why am I telling you this?”

“Tell me by all means if you find some relief in doing so.”

“Yes, I do find relief. I want to talk to you … you of all people. For several reasons. One because at the moment you have set up a shrine to your dead husband and are going to spend the rest of your days worshipping that shrine like a vestal virgin. Not quite a vestal though … since you are the mother of young Edwin. And this is what makes the situation what it is.” She laughed suddenly. “It won’t last, you know. You’ll break out one day and then … and then …”

I said: “I have decided that I have no wish to marry again, if that is what you mean.”

“Don’t be too sure. I know there are eyes watching you.” She lowered her voice and involuntarily I looked over my shoulder.

“Yes,” she said, “You are chosen for a destiny. I know it. Someone has his eyes on you … but there are obstacles … living obstacles.”

“You are talking in riddles.”

“Easy ones to solve. Do you know what Eversleigh means to Carleton?”

“A great deal I am sure.”

“A great deal! That’s putting it mildly. It means everything to him. Poor Carleton, he has been cheated twice. Once as a ten-year-old when his uncle, the present Lord, most inconsiderately sired a son—your own beloved husband. In a confiding mood Carleton once told me what that had meant to him. ‘I was only ten,’ he said: ‘but I can remember my baffled fury now. I had been brought up at this house. My uncle taught me everything. He was always saying … or if he didn’t say it he implied it: “One day this will be yours.” I learned about the estate. When I rode out it was as though trumpets sounded and voices were singing, “It’s yours. It’s yours.”’”

“Did he really feel as strongly as that? He was only ten years old!”

“Carleton was never childish. He always knew what he wanted, and he had been led to believe Eversleigh was his. Well, he suppressed his anger and, loving Eversleigh, tried to make his cousin worthy of his inheritance. He told me how he made him sit his horse, hold his arrow, shoot his guns. Making a man of him, he called it. He said Edwin was too soft to manage Eversleigh. He would never have made a good job of it.”

“That was nonsense. Sheer jealousy.”

“As his loyal widow it would seem so to you. Carleton was determined to hold Eversleigh after the King was beheaded. As you know he stayed behind when so many were fleeing the country. He risked his life for Eversleigh. Then Edwin came and was killed and he was the heir again. I remember him then—the quiet confidence … the assurance.”

“It sounds as though he rejoiced in his cousin’s death.”

“He had never had a high opinion of him. I think it seemed to him that fate had decided to watch over Eversleigh by giving it a strong master.”

“This does not endear me to him.”

“I think he has plans for you.”

“Plans?”

“He is attracted to you in some way. He is easily attracted to women.”

“He had better begin to look elsewhere.”

“You would seem different to him.”

“The simple girl up from the country—” I said. She was talking to me as Harriet had done, patronizingly, faintly amused by my unworldliness. Well, if I was unworldly at least I had found more happiness than either she or Harriet. I had lost my husband, it was true, but I had my dear little son to comfort me.

“Oh, more than that,” she went on seriously. “You have a strong will. He would like that. You have turned against him. He would like that too. He never wanted easy conquests.”

“You had better tell him that this is one citadel which will remain unconquered.”

“That would only increase his ardour.”

“Ardour! An odd word to use.”

“He would like to offer you marriage. He sees that as the perfect solution. If you married him he would be your son’s guardian and the care and management of Eversleigh would remain in his hands, as it does now. At this time Lord Eversleigh leaves everything in his hands. He managed the estate during the difficult years, so it is only natural that he should go on doing so now. There is one impediment. He is already married to me.”

“I am thankful to say it is an unsurmountable one.”

“If I were to die …”

“You … die. You are young.”

“Look at me.”

“You are at the moment suffering from a minor indisposition. You will soon recover from that.”

She lay back and said nothing.

I went on: “This is a strange conversation. Tell me what you fancy to eat and I will have it sent to you.”

“Yes,” she said, “a strange conversation, but I am glad we have had it. I think you ought to know …”

There was a dreamy look in her eyes and I wondered whether she was in a fever. Fevers filled the mind with odd fancies.

I went to the bed and touched her hand. It was quite cold.

“Perhaps a little soup and a capon to follow. I will go and see about it.”

Her eyes followed me to the door. I heard her whisper: “Take care, Arabella. Take care of yourself … and your son.”

I went downstairs feeling very uneasy.

The next day Barbary was very much better, and seemed to revert to her old character, which was one of cynical sophistication. I wondered whether she regretted her confidence, for she seemed to avoid me and a few days after that she left for London.

Sally Nullens shook her head over her and was unaccustomedly confidential.

“I’ve always felt rather sorry for Mistress Barbary,” she said. “She was flung into this when she was nothing more than a child, and I don’t think Master Carleton did anything much to help her.”

I felt my lips tighten. I couldn’t forget what Barbary had suggested about his thinking of marrying me if he could find some way of removing her. The second marriage of convenience, I thought. Not for me, Master Carleton. I couldn’t help feeling a satisfaction that he was for the second time cheated of what he wanted “more than anything.”

At the same time I found the prospect a little sinister. “He is a man who won’t rest until he’s got what he wants.”

“She never took care of herself,” went on Sally. “Master Carleton always said so. A serious illness, he said, and she’d snuff out like a candle.”

“He said that?”

“Oh, yes, more than once.”

“But she is young and strong and I believe leads a very active life in London.”

“You could call it that,” said Sally Nullens. “Master Carleton’s right though. She’s not strong and ought to take more care of herself. A silly girl … the life she leads. Like a moth fluttering round the candle.”

“You seem to have candles on your mind, Sally. I hope you keep them away from the children.”

“Now, Mistress Arabella, do you think I’d be so foolish as not to?”

“I know you are wonderful with the children, Sally. I’m grateful.”

“Oh, you’re nothing but a girl yourself. As for the boys, I couldn’t get them in to their dinner today. They didn’t want to leave the kites you brought them. Master Leigh’s must go higher than Master Edwin’s and then Master Edwin’s higher than Master Leigh’s. Always got to go one better. I don’t know.”

She was good, Sally was, and devoted to the children. At that moment I thought: I wish they needn’t grow up. I wish Carleton would go to London and stay there. I didn’t want to think of him or what might be in his devious mind.

But my encounter with Barbary had started up uneasy trains of thought in my mind because of the dreams I was having.

Silly dreams about kites and popguns. I remember one in which Edwin was flying his kite, and as it went up into the sky, I could see that painted on it was a picture of Eversleigh Court. As I watched, it grew bigger and bigger and there were people on the lawns so that it was no longer a picture. Then I saw Carleton running towards Edwin and trying to snatch the kite away from him. Edwin would not release it and started to shout: “Be careful, Mama. Be careful!” Then I saw the clay pellets from the popgun scattered everywhere … and I was frightened.

Silly, stupid dreams but an indication of an uneasy mind. I wished Barbary had not put such thoughts into my head, but if they were in hers it was as well for me to know.

It was round about Christmas time of that year 1664. The boys were thinking of their fifth birthdays which closely followed Christmas. It was a cold snowy afternoon, with the flakes fluttering down and great fires roaring in every room.

The boys were kneeling on the schoolroom window seat, looking out at the snow, when Leigh shouted: “Someone’s coming.”

Edwin cried: “I can see a man. He’s riding into the courtyard.”

“Some travellers,” I said to Sally. “Someone who finds the weather too bad to go on. We shall doubtless have a visitor today. I will go down and see who it is.”

The children came with me.

Charlotte was already in the hall. When the bell started to clang, she opened the door and a man stepped in.

“Good day!” he cried. “A merry good day. What weather. Still I’m glad to be home!”

He looked at me with astonishment and then grinned at Charlotte.

“Now which one of you would be my niece, Charlotte?” he asked.

Charlotte stepped forward.

He seized her and kissed her.

“Is your father at home?”

Charlotte said: “Yes. I’ll send for him. You must be …”

“Your Uncle Tobias, Niece. Uncle Toby that is. Home from Virginia. Looking for a welcome warmer than the weather.”

Matilda Eversleigh was standing at the top of the staircase. He went towards her. “Matilda, my dear sister. Where’s John?”

“Why,” cried Matilda. “You must be …”

“Don’t you know me? Well, it’s been some years. A lot has happened since I went away, eh?” Lord Eversleigh had appeared behind his wife.

“Why—Tobias!” he cried. “Welcome home, Toby. I thought you were dead these many years.”

“Not me, brother. Alive and kicking as they say. Well, I thought I’d give you all a surprise. I want to hear all the news and I want to give you mine.”

“First,” said Matilda, “you must eat and drink and we’ll have a room made ready. Charlotte …”

“I’ll see to that, Mama.”

“My dear Toby … After all these years. We thought …”

“That I was dead. Yes, I know, John has just told me. No, there’s life in the old dog yet, Sister. Well, it’s good to be home. Eversleigh has not changed much. Been through hard times, I hear. But all’s well with the world now, I believe. The King’s come back, so I thought it was time Toby Eversleigh did the same.”

“It’s a wonderful surprise,” said Lord Eversleigh. “We have new additions to the family. This is Edwin’s wife.”

“What, young Edwin with a wife! And where is he …?”

There was a short silence and then Lord Eversleigh said: “I should have said Edwin’s widow.”

“Oh!”

The children had run down into the hall and were gazing with bewilderment at the newcomer.

“My grandson,” said Lord Eversleigh proudly. “Come Edwin and say good day to your Great-Uncle Toby.”

“Great-uncle,” said Edwin, looking upwards with awe.

“Yes, boy, I’m your great-uncle. I hope you’re going to be my friend.”

“I will,” said Edwin.

“So will I,” cried Leigh pushing forward.

“Another nephew for me?” asked Tobias.

“No … Leigh is an adopted child.”

“There’s much I have to hear, I doubt not,” said Tobias.

“First something to eat and drink,” said Matilda.

“It’s good to be home,” replied Tobias warmly.

So that was Edwin’s Uncle Toby. The family had been so convinced that he was dead that they had never mentioned him to me. I gathered that he came between Edwin’s and Carleton’s fathers and could only have been Lord Eversleigh’s junior by about two years, but his bronzed complexion and his rather plentiful hair made him look much the younger.

He was a colourful addition to the household, and it was soon clear that he intended to settle there. Being very convivial he was extremely popular. His weakness was a love of wine and he would sit at the table after dinner and consume quantities of it while his mood grew more and more mellow and he more and more talkative.

He was rich and had made a fortune in Virginia from tobacco. He had wanted to come home for years but feeling no affinity with the Puritan state, had waited until he heard the King was back.

“Mind you,” he said, wagging a finger at me as though I was about to contradict him, “there was much to be done. I couldn’t just up and off … not with my business activities … oh, dear me, no. I had to find managers … people I could trust. I didn’t want to give up my interest out there. Why, if the Roundheads came back, I’d be off again. Wouldn’t live under them, I promise you that.”

“They will never come back,” Lord Eversleigh assured him. “The people have had their fill of them.”

“Then I’ll rest me here … as long as you’ll have me.”

“My dear Toby,” said his brother, “this is your home as much as mine.”

Toby nodded, his eyes slightly misty. “What is it about old places like this?” he asked. “They get under your skin … they get in your blood. You never forget them, however far you roam. And if you’re in line for them … well, then, there’s something special.” He looked at me steadily. “Why, do you know if it wasn’t for young Master Edwin I’d be the heir to this place, that’s so, eh, Brother?”

Lord Eversleigh said it was indeed the case.

“Mind you,” replied Toby with his booming laugh, “you’re going to outlive me by the look of it. I’m more fond of the bottle, brother, than you, and they say that while a little of it is good, for your stomach’s sake, too much is likely to rot the gut. There, I’m shocking the ladies. Forgive. I’ve got a bit rough on my travels. And what about Harry’s boy?”

“Carleton,” said Matilda. “Oh, he is still here. I daresay he will be coming back soon. He moves between here and London.”

“I remember Carleton. He must have been about two when I went away. What an upstanding little fellow, eh! I can see him strutting around. He owned the place already. Of course then we thought you’d not get a son and I was off to the wilds and that meant everyone had decided I’d be eaten by sharks or Indians. Young Carleton was very sure of himself. I’ve just thought of it. He’ll take a step back, won’t he? … Not that it matters. We have our young Edwin. What a fine little man, eh? Madam, I congratulate you on giving us such a grand little heir.”

And so he talked, and I have to admit to slight and unworthy elation because Carleton had had to take another step backwards.

The children were fascinated by Uncle Toby. Being a great talker—fond, Charlotte commented, of his own voice—there was nothing he liked more than an appreciative audience. In the morning his talk was fascinating; in the evenings it was likely to get a little slurred; but of course it was in the mornings when the children heard him. They would desert their kites and their popguns and trumpets to sit at his feet and listen to his tales. I would join them too. He was always talking about Captain Smith who was his hero and whom he called the founder of Virginia.

“Named, my hearties, after the Virgin Queen by a man named Walter Raleigh.” Then he would tell them about Walter Raleigh and how he became the Queen’s favourite by spreading his cloak over the mud when she stepped from her carriage, thus preventing her from getting her pretty shoes dirty.

Raleigh brought tobacco to England, and tobacco was what grew in Virginia and it was tobacco that had made him a rich man.

I can see them now, their little faces alight with interest, and every now and then if the adventures grew horrific they would squeal with delight. Chastity came to join them. She was as fervent an admirer of Uncle Toby as the boys were.

What tales he had to tell of Captain John Smith who knew when he was a boy that he was going to be a great adventurer.

“I’m going to be a great adventurer,” cried Leigh jumping up, his eyes shining so that he looked remarkably like his mother. I remembered what she had said about having to adventure for the good things of life if they did not fall naturally into one’s lap.

Edwin said that he was, too, but he would have to stay at home most of the time to look after Eversleigh.

So he knew already. He must have listened to talk.

Uncle Toby patted his head. “Ah, yes, boy,” he said. “You’ll keep this place as it should be, and that’s another kind of adventure.”

“I shall go but to Virginia,” boasted Leigh. “Then I’ll come back and … and … I’ll tell you all about it.”

“In the meantime,” I said, “let’s listen to Uncle Toby.”

That was what everyone wanted to do, so we heard how Captain Smith joined the Christian army and went out to fight the Turks and defeated three of them in single combat and how later he became the prisoner of a wicked Timor and had a heavy iron yoke about his neck; how he slew the Timor and escaped, overcoming every difficulty, and how finally he landed up in Virginia where his life was saved by the beautiful Indian Princess Pocahontas.

So many stories he had to tell that the children were completely entranced. They played new games now. Leigh wanted to be John Smith but so did Edwin. Edwin, I noticed, almost always gave way and played the Timor. Then in the Pocahontas story Chastity was Pocahontas, Leigh, John Smith and Edwin, the Indian chief who was going to kill John.

I said to Edwin: “You should not let Leigh always play the best parts.”

Edwin looked at me with his serene and beautiful smile and explained: “But, Mama, he wouldn’t play unless he could have them and I like to play.”

I kissed him, but I did think Leigh was growing more and more like his mother.

It was not to be expected that Toby, who had lived so adventurously, would stay all the time at Eversleigh Court. He wanted to know what was happening in the country, and therefore he must go to Court. There were many people there who would be interested to hear his accounts of his travels and his brother said he must be presented to the King and Queen.

Carleton came to Eversleigh. I wished I had been present when he was confronted by Uncle Toby. I wondered what his immediate reactions were. When I saw them together he had had time to overcome his surprise and, I imagine, chagrin.

Once when we were riding Carleton was beside me and I asked him how he felt about his uncle’s return.

“It is always interesting to discover members of the family.”

“It’s odd that I never heard him mentioned.”

“We thought he was dead. The ship we presumed he had sailed in floundered. Uncle Toby has always had amazing luck. He took another ship right at the last moment so his doting family were under the impression that he was gone forever.”

“So all those years, until you reached your tenth birthday, you were strutting around imagining yourself to be the heir of Eversleigh, when the real heir was making his fortune in Virginia!”

“In absolute innocence! But what did it matter? Edwin was soon there to step in front of Tobias, and now you have provided us with another Edwin to do the same.”

“Uncle Toby comes before you though.”

“Neither of us comes anywhere while we have precious Edwin.”

“Toby is very fond of him.”

“Who would not be fond of that perfect child?”

“And you?”

He looked at me sardonically.

“Fond of Edwin? What a question. You know I dote on him. Mind you, I think at the moment he is inclined to cower behind Mama’s skirts and those of his nurse, while he allows young Master Leigh to be lord of the nursery. That should be changed.”

“How?”

He leaned towards me. “Very soon, dear Cousin, I am going to help you make a man of Edwin.”

“I will have no interference,” I said sharply.

He laughed. “For the good of Eversleigh,” he cried and then he galloped off.

When Uncle Toby went to London with Carleton and Lord Eversleigh, we missed him very much and the children were constantly asking when he was coming back. The two boys were very much absorbed at this time with their ponies, and Jasper used to take them out each day. I insisted that they should be on the leading rein except in the home fields. Even then I used to suffer agonies when I saw Edwin galloping round.

Jasper said: “Master Carleton be right, mistress. You’re too careful of the boy. You’re putting him in a glass case.”

“He is very young yet, Jasper,” I retorted.

Jasper grunted. He was a most surly man and I never could like him. I knew he would like to take us back to the days when it was considered a sin to smile. One thing I was sure of, his daughter Chastity was happier now than she had been before the Restoration.

I couldn’t forget that Jasper had been suspicious of me and had informed against us. I was rather surprised that he remained at Eversleigh, but Lord Eversleigh was a very just man. He said that Jasper had a right to his opinions. He made no secret of them. He was a Puritan at heart and there would always be people like him. He was a good groom and had never failed in his duties in that respect.

To my surprise Carleton agreed with him. His comment was: “Jasper couldn’t inform against us now. To whom could he carry his tales? He has a right to his opinions. After all, that was really what the war was all about. The King would be the first to agree.”

So Jasper stayed and gave us good though surly service. I think he was grateful in a way. Although he deplored our love of what he would call sinful luxury, he accepted us as we did him.

I had reason to be grateful to him at this time.

The boys had new riding jackets made of brown velvet with gold-coloured buttons and velvet caps to match. They were very proud of them. Leigh strutted in his. He was an arrogant little boy, but there was something about his delight in everything which made him appealing.

They were eager to ride out in their new clothes and they took their ponies into the field close to the house where they were accustomed to ride round and round. Jasper was always in attendance and I liked to watch them.

How smart they looked in their new jackets and how excited they were as always to mount their ponies. I watched them trotting round the field and then breaking into a canter.

Jasper was never very far away. He was teaching them to jump. He sat straightbacked on old Brewster, who was grey and had a dour look to match Jasper’s own.

How glad I was of Jasper that morning because for some reason Edwin’s pony decided to bolt. I felt my heart stop and then start to pound away at such a rate that it seemed as though it would choke me.

Time slowed down and minutes seemed to pass, though it could only be seconds while I saw the pony bolting for the hedge and Edwin, who had somehow slipped off his back, managing to cling round his neck. I expected him to fall at any moment.

Oh, God, I thought. He is going to be killed. I am going to lose my son as I lost my husband.

I ran, ineffectually, I knew, for the child would be thrown before I could possibly reach him.

But Jasper was there. He had halted the pony, had leaped to the ground and was disengaging Edwin from the pony’s neck and had him in his arms.

I was panting, feeling lighthearted with relief, wanting to promise Jasper anything he asked, for nothing could repay him for what he did.

“’Tis all right, mistress,” he said.

Edwin was laughing. I thanked God for the sound of that laughter. Then he was concerned, for he had seen my face. What it looked like I could not imagine. I was clearly white and shaken.

Edwin said: “It’s all right, Mama. I haven’t hurt my coat. My cap though …”

It was on the ground where it had dropped off his head. Jasper put him down and he immediately retrieved it.

He looked a little distressed. “It’s a bit dirty, Mama. Never mind. Sally will clean it.”

I felt I wanted to burst into tears … with relief … with thankfulness. I felt a wave of hysteria. My darling was safe. I felt as though I had died a thousand deaths while I watched him and he thought I was worried about his cap!

I wanted to pick him up and hug him, to tell him he must never risk his life again.

Jasper was scolding: “You should never have let him go like that. He’s got to know you’re the master. After all I taught you!”

“I know, Jasper, but I couldn’t hold him.”

“No such word as couldn’t, Master Edwin. Up on his back.”

I started to protest but Jasper pretended not to hear me.

“Now off you go. Let him out. Full gallop now.”

Jasper looked at me.

“Only way, mistress. Do you want him so he’ll never mount a horse again?” He looked at me pityingly, for he could see how shaken I was. “They know no fear, mistress. That’s why they have to learn when they’re young. He didn’t know what happened then. Just as well.”

“Jasper, take care of him.”

“Aye, mistress. I’ll make a horseman of him yet.”

That incident made us friends in some odd way. I noticed Jasper looking at me now and then. Of course he despised my fancy gowns, the trappings of the Devil, he would call them. But he respected my love for my child and he knew that I had made him the guardian of Edwin and he liked that.

One day when I was in the stables there alone with him, he came and stood before me rather awkwardly.

“Mistress,” he said, “I’d like a word. Have wanted it these many days.”

“What is it, Jasper?” I asked.

“’Tis about your husband, mistress. He were shot over here … not far from this spot.”

I nodded.

“I want you to know it were none of my doing.”

“Jasper,” I said, “he came here into danger. He was posing as a stranger. I should never have come with him. It was through me that he was betrayed.”

“That were so, mistress. You showed your true nature and it were not that of a woman who serves God as she should, and I told those who should know and one came to see. But nothing had been done then. ’Twere not because of that that he were shot. Mistress, I want you to know that not I nor any of my friends fired the shot that killed Master Edwin.”

“Do you know who?”

He turned away. “I want only to say it were not my doing.”

“So it was nothing to do with his being … the enemy.”

“It were not done by us, mistress. That’s all I can say. ’Twouldn’t have been for us to kill him. We’d have took him for questioning but not to kill.”

“You know who did it, Jasper?”

“’Tis not for me to say, mistress. But I don’t want you to think I was the one who had anything to do with the killing of that boy’s father.”

“I believe you, Jasper,” I said, and I did.

News was coming in from the neighbouring towns. It appeared that a very virulent form of bubonic plague had broken out in the slums of St. Giles’s and so fierce was it that it was fast spreading through the capital and beyond. People were collapsing in the streets and were left there to die because none dared go near them.

We were very worried because Lord Eversleigh was there with Carleton and Uncle Toby and we had had no news from them.

Each day we heard horrific tales. No one who could get out of the capital stayed. The Court had left and an order of council had been issued that stringent measures must be taken to deal with it.

Lady Eversleigh was frantic with anxiety.

“Why don’t they come back?” she demanded. “They would never be so foolish as to stay there. What can it mean …?”

“Not all of them,” she went on frantically. “It couldn’t happen to all of them. Have we gone through those years of exile just to come back to this?”

Charlotte and I shared her anxiety. I realized how fond I was of my father-in-law and his brother, but somewhat to my surprise it was Carleton who kept coming into my mind. I kept picturing him, writhing on a bed of pain, his face and body disfigured by hideous sores, and fervently I wished that he were here and I could nurse him. That seemed crazy, but I told myself I felt this because I should have enjoyed having him in a position which I was sure he would find humiliating—shorn of his dignity, at my mercy. What a strange thought to have at such a time, but Carleton did arouse emotions in me which I had not suspected I possessed. And with them came a certain elation, because however mysterious their absence might be, something within me told me that Carleton would be all right. Nothing would ever get the better of him—not even the plague.

Then when I was with my mother-in-law and Charlotte I wondered how I could have thought so much of Carleton to the exclusion of my father-in-law and Uncle Toby who had both become dear to me.

Each day we waited for news of them. There was none, but we did hear how the plague was spreading, and that, even as far from London as we were, we must take precautions and be very careful of strangers travelling from afar.

Everyone was talking of the plague. There were such epidemics two or three times in every century, but there had been nothing to compare with this since the Black Death. I thought of what I had seen of London—those evil-smelling gutters in the back streets where rats foraged among the rubbish left on the cobbles, and all the time I was thinking of Carleton lying on his bed, needing care.

And what of Lord Eversleigh and Uncle Toby? They were not so young. They would be less able to fight the terrible disease.

The weather was hotter than usual. Even in the country it was stifling. I imagine what it must be like in plague-ridden London. So far the towns and villages around us were free. Canterbury, Dover and Sandwich, it seemed, had no cases, but the people were watchful. We had fearsome stories of what it was like in London. If a member of a household was afflicted, a red cross must be painted on the door and beneath it the words “Lord Have Mercy on Us,” so that everyone could be warned there was danger by entering that dwelling. Even when someone died, that person would have to be lowered from the windows and dropped into one of the death carts which prowled the city at night led by men, masks over their mouth, bells in their hands which mournfully tolled while they cried out: “Bring out your dead.” Pits were dug on the outskirts of the city and the bodies thrown in one on top of the other. There were too many for proper burial and it was the only way.

We prayed for the terrible affliction to pass and still it went on. The servants talked of it continually. The names of Lord Eversleigh, Uncle Toby and Carleton were mentioned in hushed whispers as the dead were spoken of. Lady Eversleigh went about looking like a grey ghost, her face a tragic mask. Charlotte was resentful against life. “Are we never going to know?” she cried. I had rarely seen her so emotional and I was surprised that she cared so much about her family, for she generally gave an impression of indifference to people—even in their presence.

I heard the servants discussing it. “You know you’ve got it when you’re sick and you get headaches and a fever so that you ramble on. That’s how it starts. Then you have to watch out for the next phase. It’s horrible sores like carbuncles—‘buboes’ they call them. They cover you all over.”

There were prayers in the churches. The nation was in mourning. We did not know whether we were personally bereaved or not. Lady Eversleigh grew more depressed each day, Charlotte more angry. As for myself, I could not possibly believe that anything could subdue Carleton Eversleigh. Then I thought: But if he were well, why does he not come to tell us what has been happening to the others? I began to feel that I was being foolish, that I had endowed him with some superhuman power. When I doubted his ability to overcome just everything, I too fell into the general depression.

Jasper said it was God’s answer to the lawlessness which was spreading across the land. Had the country suffered from plague when Oliver Cromwell kept it godly? It had not. But when the King returned with his licentious friends, look what happened.

“The King and the Court have left London. They are safe,” I pointed out. “Why should God punish others for their sins?”

“We have become a sinful nation,” retorted Jasper. “Who can say where He will strike next?”

“Lord Eversleigh was a good man,” I cried. “Why should he …” I stopped. Before that I had consistently refused to believe that he was dead.

It was early afternoon when they came back. I was in the nursery with the children when I heard Carleton’s voice.

“Where is everybody? We’re back. Come and greet us.”

I ran down to the hall. There they were. Carleton, my father-in-law and Uncle Toby. There was someone else with them but I could pay no attention to him just then.

I threw myself into my father-in-law’s arms. I felt the tears on my cheeks.

“My dear, dear child,” he kept saying. Uncle Toby was beside me.

He embraced me as though he would never let me go.

Carleton was standing by, watching with an amused look in his eyes. Then when Uncle Toby released me he picked me up and held me against him. Our faces were level; he looked at me, holding my eyes for some seconds. Then he kissed me hard on the mouth.

I broke away.

“Where have you been?” I cried, almost hysterical between joy and relief at their return and anger for what they had made us suffer. “We have been frantic with anxiety.”

Lady Eversleigh was on the stairs with Charlotte behind her.

She gave a cry of joy and ran towards her husband.

So they were back, and with them was Sir Geoffrey Gillingham, a friend of long standing who had been with them for the last few weeks.

“It seemed the best thing,” said Carleton.

“We knew,” added Lord Eversleigh, his arm through that of his wife, “that you would be anxious. We knew that you would fear the worst, but even that seemed better than putting you in danger. Only those who have seen something of this terrible scourge can understand its horrors.”

The explanation was that the men had been dining with Sir Geoffrey when one of his servants had collapsed and it quickly became obvious that he had the plague. In a short time every servant had left the house with the exception of the wife of the stricken man, who immediately pointed out to Sir Geoffrey that he must go quickly for fear of infection.

Carleton had reminded them that the man must have been suffering for a few days and therefore they could all be infected. The reason why the plague was spreading was because people were not careful enough in isolating themselves when they came within range of it. One would have to wait several weeks to be sure that one was free from infection, and this is what he suggested they do. They could not communicate, for how did they know in what ways the disease could be carried? They would go to a hunting lodge on the edge of the Eversleigh estate. There were no servants there. It was only a small place and rarely used. If they all went there for a few weeks and they were unafflicted, then they could, with a good conscience, join their families.

“Was there no way you could have let us know?” I demanded.

“Carleton was insistent that it was the only way,” said Uncle Toby. “He took charge of us.”

“I can well believe that,” I said.

“Carleton was right,” insisted Lord Eversleigh. “It was better for you to suffer a little anxiety for a while than to have this dreadful thing brought into the house. Think of the boys.”

“Children are particularly susceptible,” said Carleton and that suppressed my complaints.

Sir Geoffrey Gillingham stayed on with us. He was gentle and charming and in a way reminded me of Edwin. He had lost a young wife three years before in childbed and there was something rather sad about him.

I found I could talk to him about Edwin and how happy we had been. I felt he understood.

He had a great admiration for Carleton. “He is the sort of man who would take over in an emergency. I must say that when we realized we were in close proximity with the plague and had actually eaten food which the man had touched, we really thought we were all doomed. It was Carleton who said it was not necessarily so but that we must regard ourselves as potential victims and hide ourselves away.”

“He is a very forceful character, I know,” I said.

“It’s a pity there are not more like him.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “But I suppose wars are made by forceful characters.”

“And sometimes prevented by them.”

Sir Geoffrey was quickly very popular with the family. Lady Eversleigh said he must not think of returning to London. He had had news that both the servant and his wife had died of the plague and that, as they had died in his house, it would be unwise for him to return to it just yet. The children liked him—rather to my surprise, for they were usually fascinated by more colourful people—great romancers like Uncle Toby, for instance. Edwin particularly liked him, and Sir Geoffrey used to ride out with my son, and since he was there to look after him, I allowed Edwin to venture out beyond the field. I had a confident feeling that no harm could come to him while he was with Sir Geoffrey.

Carleton said: “You should be grateful to me. Look what a pleasant friend I have found for you.”

I flushed slightly and that annoyed me, because I was finding that Carleton’s remarks often discountenanced me. He knew this and revelled in it.

“Don’t get too friendly, will you?” he said and moved off. It was an irritating habit of his that he would make some remark like that and before I had time to challenge it be gone.

It was he who told me that the theatres had been closed. I thought at once of Harriet and so did he. She was, of course, the reason he mentioned it.

He came close to me—he had made a habit of doing that and it angered me—and he gripped my arm tightly. “Don’t worry about that woman,” he said. “She will always find some way out of a difficult situation, no matter where and when.”

“Like you,” I replied.

“Yes, there is a similarity. I’ll wager that whatever happens to anyone else, she’ll come through safely.”

But I was not sure of that and I worried about her.

That was an eventful time. While the plague was raging in the cities, England was at war with the Dutch and there was great rejoicing over a victory at sea off Harwich when the King’s brother, the Duke of York, became the hero of the day, having blown up Admiral Opdam, all his crew and fourteen of his ships, and capturing eighteen more.

In London there was a thanksgiving service to commemorate the victory and immediately afterwards a fast was ordered because of the plague for the first Wednesday in every month. Money was raised to help young children who had lost their parents, to set up centres where the infected could be cared for and to make every effort to stop the spread of the scourge. All those who could retire to the country were advised to do so, and the holding of fairs or any such gatherings where disease could spread was prohibited.

The heat was great that summer and people saw in this a reason for the spread of the plague. In the gutters the filth stank and rotted and the rats multiplied. The city was the scene of desolation; the shops closed, the streets emptied except for the pest carts and those who were dying on the cobbles. Orders were given that fires should be lighted in the streets for three days and nights in succession in the hope of destroying the rotting rubbish and purifying the air. The deaths, which in the beginning had been one thousand a week, were reaching ten thousand. The King and the Court had moved to Salisbury, but when the plague reached that town they adjourned to Oxford.

At Eversleigh we were ever on the alert. I was terrified that some harm would come to my son. Every morning, as soon as I arose, I would hurry to the nursery to assure myself that he was in perfect health.

Sir Geoffrey stayed on. We impressed on him that it would be folly to return to London just yet. He seemed very willing to agree to this and interested himself in the estate and made himself useful in several ways. He himself had estates much closer to London and he told me that he really should be there. However, it was pleasant to linger and his affairs were in the best of hands.

“It has been so pleasant here,” he went on. “I have grown so fond of the little boys. I always wanted a boy of my own and I would have liked him to be just like Edwin.”

Nothing he said could have pleased me more. He had made me see too how fortunate I was. I had lost my husband, but fate had been kind in giving me my son.

What a relief it was when September came and the weather turned cold. The good news came that the number of deaths in the capital had dropped considerably. There was no doubt that the excessively hot weather had been in some respects responsible. Rain came and that was a further help and gradually parishes began to be declared free of the plague.

There was great rejoicing throughout the country and those who had left London were now eager to return.

Geoffrey went, declaring he would soon be back. We must visit him, he said. He would enjoy riding round his land and showing it to young Edwin. We missed him when he had gone, and this applied particularly to my son. We all said we must meet again soon. The kind of experience we had had was a firm foundation for friendship.

It was disconcerting to hear that ninety-seven thousand people were known to have died from the plague but, as Carleton pointed out, many deaths would not have been recorded. One hundred and thirty thousand was more like the number.

It was a sobering thought.

“There is too much filth in the streets of big cities,” he said. “They are saying that the rats carry the plague and where they are this will be. We could clean up our streets and then perhaps we should not be cursed with this periodic plague.”

We were all greatly relieved to have come through safely. Uncle Toby said what a delight it would be to visit London and the Court again. He was fascinated by the theatres which had improved considerably since the King had come home.

“The King loves the play,” said Carleton, “and since the fashionable world will follow its king, we have improved playhouses.”

“Very different from what they were when I went away,” agreed Uncle Toby. “Though we had the apron stage then.”

“Ah,” said Carleton, “but not the proscenium arch with the window opening onto a music room and the shutters which can be open and shut, thus make a change of scene.”

“A great improvement!” agreed Toby enthusiastically. “But I’ll tell you what is best on the stage today, Carl, my boy.”

“Don’t tell me, I know,” said Carleton. And they said simultaneously: “The women players.”

“Think of it!” went on Uncle Toby. “We used to see a delicious creature on the stage and just as we were getting interested we’d remind ourselves that it was a boy, not the pretty lady it seemed.”

“There is nothing to compare with the real thing,” said Carleton. “The King is all for the playhouses. He thinks they make his capital gay. The people need to laugh, he says. Odds fish, they’ve been solemn enough for too long. He won’t have them taxed, although some of our ministers have tried to make it difficult for them. The answer was that the players were the King’s servants and part of his pleasure.”

“Was it right,” asked Uncle Toby, “that Sir John Coventry asked whether the King’s pleasure lay with the men or the women?”

“He did, the fool,” replied Carleton, “and for once His Majesty did not appreciate the joke. Nor did others, for Coventry was set on in Suffolk Street and ever after bears the mark of a slit nose for that bit of foolery.”

“It seems a harsh punishment for a remark which might be considered reasonable,” I put in.

“Dear Cousin, have a care,” said Carleton lightly. “What a tragedy if that charming little nose of yours should suffer the same treatment.”

I put my hand to my nose protectively and Carleton was at my side. “Have no fear. I would never permit it. But it is a fact that even the most good-natured kings can now and then give sharp rejoinders.”

“I’ll swear the theatres will soon be full again,” said Uncle Toby.

“You can be sure that Killigrew and Davenant are rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect,” said Carleton. “When we are absolutely sure that it is safe, you must visit a theatre again, Cousin. I wonder if the handsome Mistress Harriet Main is still about. You would be interested to see her, Uncle Toby, I don’t doubt.”

“Always like to see a handsome woman, my boy.”

“You shall, Uncle. You shall.”

By the following February the King had returned to Whitehall with the Duke of York, and the courts of justice were once more sitting in Westminster. Carleton went to London and was away some weeks and it was while he was away that Tamsy Tyler came to Eversleigh.

I knew Tamsy before, because when Barbary had come to Eversleigh, she had brought Tamsy with her as her personal maid. Tamsy had been adept at hairdressing and adding the right touch of colour to cheeks and knew exactly where to apply a patch or a black spot to enhance a particular feature. She had been a plump and rather pretty creature and I had had no doubt that she shared her mistress’s pleasure in the opposite sex.

The Tamsy who returned to us was quite different and alone.

She arrived at the gates footsore, weary and almost starving. I was in the garden when she came and it was some time before I recognized her.

I thought she was a beggar and I went to her in some concern because her state was pitiful. As I approached she cried out: “Mistress Arabella. Oh … Mistress Arabella … help me.”

Then she sank half fainting to the ground.

I didn’t believe then it could be the coquettish Tamsy, and it was only the timbre of her voice, which was rather high pitched, that gave me a clue to her identity.

“Tamsy,” I cried. “What has happened? You poor girl. Come along into the house. Where is your mistress?”

She could scarcely walk. I said: “I’ll call Ellen.” I laid my hand on her arm. Its thinness shocked me.

“I thought I could not get here …” she stammered.

Charlotte came out. “What is it, Arabella?” she asked.

I said: “It’s Tamsy.”

“Is Barbary with her?”

Tamsy shook her head. “Mistress …” She looked from me to Charlotte. “Mistress Barbary is dead, mistress. ’Twas some months ago. Right at the end of it all too. I nursed her through it and took ill myself.”

“Tamsy!” I cried in horror, my thoughts immediately going to Edwin.

“I am well enough, mistress. I was one of those who came through. Once you’ve had it you’re free of it, they say, forever. I’ve been free these two months or more. I wouldn’t come here till I was sure.”

“Let’s get here into the kitchen,” said Charlotte. “Oh, Ellen, look who this is. She’s ill. She needs looking after.”

“Tamsy,” cried Ellen. “Well, then, where is Mistress Barbary?”

“She’s dead,” said Charlotte. “She died of the plague.”

Tamsy recovered quickly under Ellen’s care. In a day she looked less like a skeleton and could tell us what had happened without breaking into hysterical tears. She and her mistress had been in Salisbury when the Court was there, and when it left they went to Basingstoke because of a gentleman friend whom Mistress Barbary was meeting there. She did not know that he had come from London.

They had dallied there for three days and nights until he was taken sick. It was soon clear what ailed him.

Barbary had been frantic. She had been sharing a bed with the plague.

“Before we could leave the gentleman was dead and we were there in his house, all the servants gone and only the two of us. Then my mistress was taken ill and there was no one there to nurse but me, and I nursed her, and there she lay on her bed shivering and sick and not being sure whether she was there or not.

“She kept calling out for Carleton. It was pitiful to see her. She kept calling out about starting again and how she’d give anything to do that. How she’d accept him … and do what he wanted and how she’d be a good wife to him and how wrong it had been to take all those lovers … to pay him out for what he had done to her. Pardon me saying this, mistress, but ’tis gospel truth.”

“It was good of you to stay with her, Tamsy,” I said.

“Oh, I reckoned I couldn’t have escaped. You see there was his manservant who had been my friend, and he too was stricken.”

Poor Tamsy! Poor Barbary! Jasper would say it was God’s punishment for their sins.

“Oh, it were terrible, terrible,” cried Tamsy. “To see her horror … her fear when the horrible sores started to come. She screamed out to God to take them away, that she’d do anything to be rid of them. … And there they were … horrible to behold, and they would not break open either … great sores, they were, like carbuncles. If they break there’s a chance you can live but not if they don’t. … Then one day I saw it on her breast. … She saw it too … the macula they call it. They say when it shows on the breast that’s the end. She saw it and she thanked God for it because she wanted to die by then. And she did … she died within an hour. And there was I … alone … in the house with her. The cart had come to take him. So it would come to take her. I had been out in the dead of night and painted the red cross of death on the door. Now I waited at the window for the cart to come and I wrapped her in a sheet and I dropped her through the window. And there I was alone in the house behind the red cross of death.”

“My poor, poor Tamsy,” I cried. “You were a brave woman.”

“Brave, mistress? ’Tweren’t nothing else to do. I knew then, for the faintness and the sickness was getting me and there was I alone. I dunno. Perhaps because I was alone … I had to look after myself and funny like I said, ‘If I die, how’ll they know at Eversleigh? Master Carleton will never know he is a widower. So I mustn’t die.’ It seems funny now to live for such a reason. But I was half dazed with fever and I just had this feeling that I had to live. I saw the horrible sores taking over my body but I knew I’d never see the macula on my breast. Then they started to open … those sores did, and the plague came out of me and I knew I’d live. And gradually, they faded away and the sickness and the fever left me. And there was I alone in the plague house …

“I sat at the window and the pest cart came and I shouted: ‘I’m here. I’ve had the plague and I’m well again.’

“They wouldn’t come near me for two days and then they shouted to me. I had to burn everything in the house. I had to light fires everywhere. Burn all my clothes and everything on the beds. They passed food in to me and they sent me clothes and I came out.

“People came to look at me. It wasn’t many who had come through the plague.

“Then I set out for Eversleigh because I knew what I must do. I had to come and tell Master Carleton that he hadn’t got a wife anymore.”

The Seduction

GEOFFREY INSISTED THAT WE keep our promise, and we had met several times during the year. He would ride out to Eversleigh on the slightest pretext, and it seemed as though some business constantly brought him our way. Both Edwin and Leigh delighted in his visits and used to vie with each other to ride on his shoulders. He would carry them through the house and allow them to make crosses on the beams with a piece of chalk which meant that we should have good luck.

Carleton had accepted the news of Barbary’s death without emotion. I supposed it would have been quite false for him to have pretended grief considering the nature of the relationship between them. He merely shrugged his shoulders and said: “Poor Barbary. She had a talent for getting herself into awkward situations.” He looked at me quizzically and went on: “I know you are thinking that the most unfortunate of these was her marriage to me and you’re right.”

He went back to London but it was not long before he was back and he made a point of spending time in my company.

I was not really displeased about this although I pretended to myself that I was, which was foolish of me, of course, but I’m afraid I was rather foolish at this time. It was becoming clear to me that Geoffrey’s visits were not without some meaning. We liked each other very much. We had both been widowed. We had loved and lost and perhaps were both looking for someone who could give us companionship and fill that void which I was sure he felt in his life as I did in mine.

Geoffrey was a cautious man. I should admire that in him. He would not be the sort to rush into a relationship without having given it considerable thought beforehand. I believed that now he was weighing up the situation. He wanted to know so much about me; he wanted to make sure that we should be happy together.

It was wise, I told myself, and if not as romantic as my love for Edwin and his presumably for his dead wife, it was sensible.

I would never love anyone as I loved Edwin. I kept telling myself that. But should I deny myself the pleasures of marriage because I could no longer share them with Edwin?

There was my son, too. Perhaps he needed a father. He was surrounded by love. He lacked nothing really, and yet I had noticed how he loved to be with Geoffrey who could give him a certain kind of companionship which I couldn’t.

These were the thoughts which were in my mind on a lovely, sunny June day in that year 1666.

I was in the garden gathering roses, which I loved to arrange in containers and set about the house. I liked their scent to fill my rooms. I had always had a fancy for the damask rose, perhaps because my great-great-great-grandmother had been born at the time Thomas Linacre brought it to England and had been named after it.

I heard the sounds of arrival, and I immediately thought of Geoffrey, and as always when he called on us I would ask myself: I wonder if it will be today?

I always hoped not, because I was unsure. I could see so many reasons for saying yes and so many for refusing. Such a good father for Edwin, I thought. And I was fond of him. He was pleasant, charming, kindly. The sort of man one could rely on always … very different from …

Why should I want to think of Carleton at such a moment?

“Carleton!” He was there grinning at me and I felt that foolish flush rising to my cheeks.

“A charming picture,” he said. “The lady of the roses.” He took the basket from me and smelled the blooms. “Delicious,” he said looking at me.

“Oh, thank you, Carleton.”

“You look as if you were expecting someone else. Geoffrey Gillingham has become a very frequent visitor. Do you know, I begin to regret bringing him here.”

“Why should you? We all like him very much.”

“And he likes us … or some of us … and some of us probably like him better than others. Give me the basket. We’ll sit by the willows. I want to talk to you.”

“I have not finished gathering the roses yet. I want more of them.”

“You have enough here.”

“Pray, let me be the best judge of that.”

“Dear Cousin Arabella, you can trust my judgement in this matter. What I have to say to you is of far greater moment than a basket of roses.”

“Say on, then.”

“Not here. I want you to sit down and give me your undivided attention.”

“As serious as that?”

He nodded and looked grave.

“Edwin,” I began.

“Yes, it concerns Edwin.”

“Carleton, is something wrong?”

“By no means. It could be right … very right …”

“Then pray tell me. Why do you beat about the bush?”

“It is you who are beating about bushes … rosebushes. Come and sit down and I’ll tell you at once.”

He had alarmed me, and I allowed myself to be led to the stone seat sheltered by the weeping willow trees.

“Well?” I said.

“I want you to marry me.”

“Marry you!”

“Why not? I’m free now and so are you. It would be the best possible answer to everything.”

“Everything! I’m afraid I don’t …”

He had seized me suddenly so that I was taken off my guard. He was kissing my face and caressing me in a way in which no one but Edwin ever had.

I tried to hold him back, but his strength was greater than mine and clearly he meant to remain in charge of the situation.

I whipped up my anger.

“How dare you!”

“I would dare everything for you,” he said. “Don’t be prudish, Arabella. You know you want me as I want you. Why make a secret of something so obvious?”

“Obvious?” I cried. “To whom?”

“To me, and that’s the one it should be obvious to. I sense it every time we meet. You’re crying out for me. You want me.”

“You have the most extraordinarily high opinion of your charms. I can assure you I want nothing so much at this moment as to be out of your sight.”

He looked at me, his mouth turned down in mock dismay and his eyes alight with mischief.

“Not true,” he said.

“Absolutely true. How dare you take me away from my …”

“Roses,” he supplied.

“From what I want to do to bring me here under false pretences.”

“What false pretences?”

“That something was wrong with Edwin.”

“Something is wrong with Edwin. He’s rapidly become a spoilt child tied to Mama’s apron strings.”

“How dare you! …”

“Speak the truth? The boy needs a guiding hand. Mine. And he’s going to get it. He has to learn that there is something more in the world than love and kisses.”

“From what I’ve heard these things play quite a part in your life.”

“You are speaking of my reputation, which interests you. There is never smoke without fire, so they say, and it is true that I am a man of experience. …”

“Not in bringing up a child.”

“But I am. But for me, your late husband would not have been the man he was. I was the one who brought him up. I was the one who made a man of him.”

“I wonder what his father would say to that.”

“He would confirm my story. He was away from home and Edwin’s mother doted on him just as you do on his namesake.”

“In any case Edwin left England when he was ten years old, I believe, and your shining influence must then have been removed from his life.”

“It is the formative years that are important … from five until ten.”

“How is it that you are so knowledgeable on these matters?”

“It can’t have escaped you that I am knowledgeable on many matters.”

“It has not escaped me that that is your opinion of yourself.”

“It is always better to believe the best of oneself. After all, there are so many people to believe the worst. But enough of this. I want to marry you. You are too young to live as you do. You need a husband. You need me. I have wanted this for a long time, but now that I am free to make the proposal there is no need for further delay.”

“No delay is necessary. Your proposal is declined.”

“Arabella, I am going to marry you.”

“You have forgotten that it takes two to agree to marry.”

“You will agree. I promise you.”

“Don’t be so lavish with your promises. This one is certainly going to be broken.”

He caught my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. “I can make yet another promise. Once you are mine you will never want to leave me.”

I laughed. A wild excitement had taken possession of me. If I were honest, I would admit that I hadn’t enjoyed anything so much for a long time. It was so wonderful to be able to deflate his pride, to let him know that I had no intention of letting him tell me what I should do.

“Then … I shall never be yours, as you put it.”

“Don’t be too sure of that.”

“I am completely sure of it.”

“You are making a mistake, Arabella.”

“In refusing your offer?”

“No, in thinking that I shall not take you.”

“You talk as though I’m a pawn on a chess board.”

“More important than that. A very important piece, in fact. My queen.”

“Still to be used at your will.”

“Yes,” he said, “at my will.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” I rose.

“I have not,” he said, and rising with me placed both his hands on my shoulders and forced me down on the seat.

“I see that you would make a rough-mannered husband,” I said.

“When the occasion demands it, but on every occasion you will find me just the right husband for you.”

I said seriously: “There has only been one who can be that and I thank God that he was, even briefly.”

He raised his eyes to the sky. “The sainted Edwin,” he said.

“Pray do not mock him.”

“You are like everyone else, Arabella. You disappoint me. I always thought you were different. As soon as a man’s heart ceases to beat he becomes a saint.”

“I did not say Edwin was a saint. I said he was the most wonderful man I ever knew or ever shall know and no one else can take his place with me.”

“It’s a mistake to deify human beings, Arabella.”

“I loved Edwin,” I said seriously. “I still love Edwin. Can’t you understand? No one … no one … can take his place with me.”

“You’re wrong. Someone will supplant him. That is what you are going to discover when you marry me.”

“I want to hear no more.”

“You shall hear more. I am going to talk to you …”

He was silent suddenly and I looked at him in amazement. His mood had changed. He said: “Do you think I am afraid of the dead? I am afraid of no one, Arabella. Certainly not saints with feet of clay. They can topple so easily.”

“Stop sneering at Edwin. You are unworthy to unlatch his boots.”

“Boots are no longer unlatched and that remark would be considered highly irreverent by Jasper.”

“I am not concerned with Jasper.”

“But you should be concerned with truth.”

“I am going back to my roses,” I said. “Your wife is so recently dead …”

“Barbary would laugh at that if she heard you. You know what our marriage was like.”

“All the more reason why I should refuse you. She has set an example of what not to do.”

“But you are not Barbary.”

“You would never be faithful to any woman.”

“A challenge, my dearest Arabella. Just think how exciting it would be for her to make me.”

“She might not think it worth the trouble. Barbary didn’t.”

“Poor Barbary. She knew it would be hopeless. But why do we constantly talk of the dead? I’m alive. You’re alive. We’re two vital people. You’ve been only half alive for many years, it’s true. Come out of your shell and live.”

“My life has been full and interesting. I have had my child.”

“Oh, come. You have shut yourself in with the dead. You have built a shrine and worshipped at it. It’s a false shrine. Edwin is dead. You are alive. You have a child. You need me. I can make you happy. I can help bring up your son. We’ll have our own … sons and daughters. I want you, Arabella. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. All this time I have been patient. But I can stand aside no longer. I’m going to wake you up … show you what you have been missing. You’re a woman, Arabella, not a romantic girl.”

“I know exactly what I am, Carleton. I know what I want and that it is not to marry you. Now … good afternoon.”

I stood up and started to stalk away, but as I did so I tripped over the rose basket. He caught me and his arms were round me. I felt him tilt back my head and kiss my throat. I was overcome by horror because I wanted him to go on. He had aroused memories of lovemaking with Edwin and I felt ashamed of my feelings.

I forced myself back from him and he looked at me mockingly, still holding me.

“Pride goeth before a fall,” he said. “If I had not been here to rescue you, you would have slipped. You see, it’s symbolic. You need me to protect you.”

“I never needed anything less.”

“One thing I insist on in my wife is truthfulness.”

“And I hope when you find one you will give her the same in return.”

“Why fight the inevitable?”

“I think you are the most arrogant man I have ever met.”

“I confess you are not the first to have told me this.”

I wrenched myself free and turned away. I broke into a run, but he was beside me, the rose basket on one arm, the other he thrust through mine and held it tightly against him.

“Now, dearest Arabella, you will go into the house and think over what I have said. Remember again how delightful it was when I held you in my arms. Brood on the pleasures that await us both. Then you can think of Edwin … the living one, I mean. Let us forget that other. He is dead and gone and best not brought back to live in your thoughts. You are better without him. Forget the past, Arabella. Perhaps it wasn’t quite what you thought. Pictures are different when seen from afar. It is wise not to look too closely at them. So look ahead. Just think what this would mean. This our home for the rest of our lives. So many problems are solved.”

“I begin to see your motives.”

“It is very agreeable when so many things are in our favour.”

“You have always wanted Eversleigh, haven’t you?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“And it will come to Edwin. You want to control it …”

“I control Eversleigh now, Arabella. I have since I was of an age to do so. My uncle being in the King’s army cannot give his estates the attention they need. We have always realized that.”

“But there will come a time when Edwin is of age …”

“We have much to enjoy before that day. Let us make the best of life.”

I wrenched myself free from him. “I shall certainly not do that with you,” I said.

I ran into the house, leaving him standing there holding the rose basket.

I did not miss it until much later, which showed to what a state he had reduced me. I could not stop thinking of him, and I tried hard to think of Edwin and how much I had loved him and how wonderful our life would have been. As if anything could ever be like that again, even with a kind and gentle man like Geoffrey.

I avoided Carleton. This seemed to amuse him. When we were together in the company of others, I would find his eyes on me, mocking. What arrogance, I thought. He really believes I shall find him irresistible.

There was a great deal of anxiety over the Dutch war and we were constantly hearing disturbing news. Everyone was talking about the chain shot which the Dutch had invented and which was doing such harm to our ships, and orders were given that cattle must be driven off Romney Marsh in case the Dutch should come in and steal them. In July we won a victory over them, but there were great losses on both sides.

However it was decided in August that there should be a thanksgiving service and Lord Eversleigh thought we should go to London to take part in it.

Geoffrey came down to Eversleigh to tell us about the service and what was going on in London. The weather had been much cooler and there was great relief that there had been no return of the plague that summer. There was a serenity about Geoffrey as though he had come to some conclusion. I guessed what it was, and I was right, because during that visit he asked me to marry him.

It seemed strange that I should have had two proposals of marriage within a few weeks of each other, but perhaps not so strange. I was sure Carleton had suspected Geoffrey would ask me soon and wanted to get in first. That amused me. At the same time I did not want Geoffrey to ask me … yet. I had been considering marriage with him for some time, and there had been occasions when I had almost convinced myself that it would have been perhaps the best thing. Now I was very uncertain.

He had brought new kites for the boys, and they were very eager to try them so we took them out-of-doors and I watched Geoffrey with the children and noticed how they shouted to him and treated him as though he were an elder brother—young enough to play with them and yet older to have special knowledge and give them help when needed.

I sat in the sunshine on the stone bench near the willow with flowering shrubs on either side. It was a delightful afternoon, warm and sunny. I felt a certain contentment sitting there watching my son and marvelling at his beauty and giving grateful thanks for his good health, listening contentedly to the buzzing of the bees as they hovered about the lavender. There would be good honey this year, I thought.

Geoffrey came and sat down beside me.

I said: “It was good of you to bring them kites.”

“I know how they like them. Look. Edwin’s is flying higher than Leigh’s.”

“Leigh won’t like that.”

“No, he’s a boy who will have to be curbed more than Edwin, I think.”

“Yes, he has a more arrogant nature. Edwin reminds me so much of his father.”

“He was gentle was he … good-natured?”

“He hated trouble. He wanted everybody to be happy. Sometimes I think he would have done anything rather than cause trouble.”

Geoffrey nodded slowly. “Do you still think of him?”

“All the time …” I said.

“It is some years now.”

“Before Edwin was born. In fact I didn’t know I was to have a child when I heard that Edwin was dead.”

“You can’t mourn forever, Arabella.”

“Do you think one ever gets over such a loss?”

“I think one should try to.”

I sighed. “Edwin often asks about his father.”

“I know. He has told me about him. Edwin thinks he was one of the saints.”

I smiled. “He would be pleased if he knew. I want my son to live up to him. I tell him he must never do anything of which his father would be ashamed. He must try to be like him.”

Geoffrey nodded. “But he needs a father here on earth, Arabella. All children do.”

I was silent, and he went on: “I have thought a great deal about this. I have almost spoken to you so many times. Would you marry me, Arabella?”

Again I was silent. I didn’t want to say no, I could never marry anyone, because I wasn’t sure, and he was right when he said one should not mourn forever. Edwin would have been the last person to wish that. For a moment I gave myself up to the pleasure of seeing myself announcing my intention to marry Geoffrey and watching the effect on Carleton. I should enjoy that. But that was not a good enough reason for marrying.

Geoffrey had seen the slow smile on my lips and misconstrued it.

“Oh, Arabella, we’ll be happy. I know we shall.”

I drew away from him. I said: “I’m sorry, Geoffrey, but I’m not sure. I sometimes think I shall never marry. I will confess I have thought of it, and when I have seen how much you love Edwin and he, you, I have felt it would be good for us all. But I am not sure. I still think of my husband and as yet I cannot say.”

“I understand,” he said. “I have spoken too soon. But I want you to think about it. I am a lonely man and I think sometimes you would be happier with someone who was close to you as only a husband can be. I would be a father to the boy. I love him already. I take a great interest in him.”

I said: “He would be expected to live here. You know that he is the heir to all this.”

“I would come here for a great deal of the time and we could go now and then to my own estates. I have my bailiffs there who look after things while I am away much as it is managed here. Edwin would be my concern.”

I followed the flight of the kites and on the surface of Edwin’s I seemed to see the house take shape. Eversleigh Court and all it entailed which would one day be Edwin’s. In my imagination I saw Edwin lifted off the ground, caught up with his kite. I saw his terrified face, heard his screams and I realized that I was remembering a dream I had had long ago.

“Are you all right?” asked Geoffrey.

“Oh, yes … quite all right, thank you. You’ll think me ungrateful but I do appreciate what you are offering me. It is just that I am unsure …”

He put a hand over mine.

“I understand,” he said. “You must realize this, Arabella. I should always understand.”

I believed he would and I wished that I could have said yes.

A horrible suspicion had come to me that I might have done so but for that scene not so long ago with Carleton in this very garden.

Lord Eversleigh thought that we should all go to London for the thanksgiving service. Uncle Toby was delighted. He was always eager to get to London and he spent a great deal of time there. Lord Eversleigh said that the town house was more often occupied since Toby had been home than it ever was before. My mother-in-law told me that she was a little disturbed about Toby. He was inclined to drink too much and to gamble. He greatly enjoyed the conversation in the coffeehouses and he was devoted to the theatre. He had a fondness for the pretty actresses and was very interested in Moll Davis, who was said to be favoured by the King.

“That was always Toby’s trouble,” said Matilda. “Your father tells me that in his youth he gave his parents much anxiety and they were not altogether displeased when he decided to go to seek his fortune in Virginia. I doubt he saw much of playhouses and pretty women actresses there.”

But we were all indulgent with Toby. Whatever his excesses he could always charm us.

So he, at least, was anxious to go up for the thanksgiving service.

There was a letter from Far Flamstead. My mother hoped that we should be going and perhaps would spend a night there on the way, for naturally they would be present. It would make the family very happy for us all to be together again.

So it was arranged that we went.

I always enjoyed being with my family, although the children no longer gave way to wild expressions of joy to see me. Even Fenn no longer leaped round me and gave those great war whoops of pleasure. He was twelve years old now and beyond such childish matters. As for Dick, he was all but sixteen, fast growing in dignity, and Angie at thirteen was quite a young lady.

My father embraced me warmly and I saw the anxious look in his eyes which was reflected in my mother’s. They both wanted to see me married and they would have approved of Geoffrey, I was sure. I toyed with the idea of confiding in her that I had had two proposals of marriage but decided against that. She would want to know how I felt about my two suitors and I couldn’t bear any probing at that time, even from her.

It was a merry party. Carleton was already in London, staying at the Eversleigh house in fashionable Clement’s Lane where we would join him. My parents would go to my father’s house, the gardens of which ran down to the river and which had been in his family’s possession since the days of Henry VIII.

In London we should be joined by Lucas and his new wife. I never saw my mother in such good spirits as she was when she could gather her family together.

But I was never completely happy when my son was not with me, though Charlotte kept assuring me that in the care of Sally Nullens the boys were as safe as if we were there, and I had to accept this.

In due course we went to the service and there I had the pleasure of being presented to the King and Queen. I was fully aware of his charm, as indeed who could help being, and I liked his gentle Queen with the great, brooding, dark eyes. Poor woman, I was sorry for her if all the tales I heard of his infidelities were true, and I was inclined to believe that they were.

When we came out from the service Carleton was beside me and he pointed out Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine—a woman I instinctively disliked.

Carleton laughed at me. “She is reckoned to be irresistible.”

“If I were a man I should find it the easiest thing in the world to resist her.”

“Ah, but then you are not a man and you are noted for your powers of resistance. Look how you resist me.”

I left him and joined my father.

We all returned to Clement’s Lane, and later that day my family left for their own residence. That night at supper Uncle Toby suggested that we all go to the play on the following day.

It was declared a good idea and I was excited at the possibility of seeing Harriet again, although I had heard no mention of her name. I think Carleton knew this, for he was watching me closely.

So to the King’s House we went, and I was thrilled to be once more in the playhouse and sit in the box and watch the life that went on below me. The gallants, the orange girls, the ladies in their masks and patches, and the exquisite gowns. There was much more order than there had been on the previous occasion, and when I commented on this, Carleton told me that playgoers had at last realized that they had come to the playhouse to see and hear a play and were becoming more and more interested in what was going on on the stage than the trouble they could stir up among the audience.

So it seemed, for there was a hushed silence when the play began and no need this time for one of the players to step forward and ask for silence.

The play was called The English Monsieur and it had been written by the Hon. James Howard, one of the Earl of Berkshire’s sons. His brothers also wrote for the stage, Carleton had told me as we rode to the theatre, and so did his brother-in-law John Dryden.

Uncle Toby said he had seen Dryden’s The Rival Ladies and found it very good. “And the fellow worked with Robert Howard on The Indian Queen. That was a fine play about Montezuma and most splendidly was it put on the stage. But give me a comedy. I look forward to tonight. There is one little actress who gives me great pleasure to watch.”

“I am sure Arabella will enjoy her acting too,” said Carleton smiling, and I wondered what innuendo there was behind that remark. For it was a fact that I always suspected that there was some hidden intent behind everything he did or said.

“There will be a crowd at the playhouse tonight,” said Lord Eversleigh. “After having been closed for so long, people cannot wait to get back to them.”

“It was very necessary for them to be closed during the time of the plague,” I pointed out.

“Indeed, yes, but what a loss. So much to make up for.” The play began. I waited for Harriet to appear, but it was not Harriet who took the part of Lady Wealthy, the chief character in the play, but a small woman, very pretty with great vitality and a gamine charm. She took the part of a rich widow who was courted by fortune-hunters and played with the idea of marrying, as they said, “well” and in the end cast aside such nonsense and married her true love.

The plot was slight, the dialogue scarcely sparkling, but the amazing personality of this delightful actress carried it along, and the audience was with her every moment she was on the stage.

I should always remember her dainty looks, her jaunty charm, her constant laugh and the way her eyes almost disappeared when she gave way to it. She was dark and sparkling and the entire audience loved her.

As we rode back to the house Carleton said: “What did you think of Nelly?”

“I thought she was enchanting:”

“So it seems to others—including His Majesty.”

“I thought he was enamoured of an actress called Moll Davis.”

“Alas, poor Moll, she is by way of being superseded by Nelly.”

“I doubt not Nelly’s reign will be as brief,” I said. “He is faithful to the Castlemaine, so perhaps he is capable of fidelity to others.”

“I would not agree with your definition of fidelity.”

“What a glorious day that would be when we could agree about something.”

We went on to discuss the play and it was a most stimulating hour.

The days that followed had a quality of unreality about them, and even now I cannot really believe in them. A very strong east wind had sprung up. I heard it during the night, blowing through the narrow streets, and I sat up in bed listening to it and wondering how strong it would be in the open country round Eversleigh, where it was always so much more fierce than in London, for coming in from the east it had spent a little of its energy before it reached the capital.

Just before dawn I was aware of an unusual light in the sky, and going to my window I saw that it was a glow from what must be a large fire.

By the time I arose the glow had deepened. I remarked to the maid that it must be a very big fire indeed. She replied that one of the tradesmen had just come in and said that it started in a baker’s shop in Pudding Lane. The house was in flames in no time and the strong east wind had spread the fire to the neighbouring buildings.

During that day there was no talk of anything but the fire which was rapidly spreading and had already consumed a number of buildings, and at night our rooms were as light as day from the glow of the flames. A pall of smoke hung over the city and it was getting worse.

“If it continues like this,” said my father-in-law, “there will be nothing of London left.”

Carleton suggested that Charlotte and I return to Eversleigh, and my mother wanted us to go to Far Flamstead which was a safe distance from the city.

I said firmly that I should not go until the danger was over. There was a great deal for us to do on the spot, for the refugees from the fires were put into certain empty houses and Charlotte and I had joined the band of helpers who were arranging to look after them.

People were bewildered. Many of them were bent on running away, and the river was full of craft containing families with what possessions they had salvaged. Some were escaping to the country, others were going to the houses which had been set up to receive them, and others to camp in the fields about Islington and Highgate.

Three days had passed while the fire was still blazing. It was useless to try to put it out by ordinary means. The whole of the Thames would not douse this fire, it was said.

Alarm was spreading. We kept getting scraps of news. We heard that the roof of St. Paul’s Cathedral was ablaze and the glow in the sky could be seen for ten miles around the city. Melting lead was running into the streets and the stones of St. Paul’s were flying like grenades through the streets, the cobbles of which were too hot for people to walk on. The great bells of the churches were melting. The wind caught the ashes and spread them for miles around. I heard that some of these were blown as far as Eton.

The Church of St. Faith was collapsing. Its roof was gone and its walls had fallen in. In Paternoster Row, the home of the booksellers, the contents of the shops had been burning for several days.

Something must be done.

The King hastened to London with his brother and members of the nobility to find a means of stopping the fire. Carleton was with him; so were my father, Geoffrey, Lord Eversleigh and Uncle Toby. They believed they had a solution. It was desperate, but they must try it, for two-thirds of the city was already in ruins, and from the Tower along the Thames to the Temple Church and along the city wall to Holborn Bridge, there was scarcely a building standing, and if it was it must be an empty shell.

The drastic plan was to blow up those buildings towards which the fire was racing so that, when it reached them, there would be only an empty space and the flames would have nothing to consume and therefore would necessarily become less fierce and perhaps be able to be brought under control.

We awaited the outcome with trepidation. All day long we heard the explosions. The men came home, their garments and even their faces blackened with their exertions. But there was an air of triumph about them. They had halted the great fire of London, and now, they prophesied, it would only be a matter of time before they had put it out.

The nightmare was over, but the damage was enormous. Four hundred streets had been completely destroyed with about thirteen thousand houses. An area of four hundred and thirty-six acres had been devastated. We had suffered four days of calamity and during that time eighty-eight churches had been destroyed, including St. Paul’s Cathedral. The City gates and Guildhall, the Exchange and the Customs House had also gone, and the value of the lost property was over seven million pounds. There was only one matter for rejoicing. In spite of this colossal destruction, only six people had lost their lives.

The fire was discussed interminably around dinner tables.

“The King,” said Carleton, “surprised his people … though I guessed he would behave as he did. People are inclined to think that because he has a keen wit and likes to use it, because he has an appreciation of beauty and a love of pleasure, he is incapable of being serious. Now they realize their mistake. None worked as hard as he did.”

“It was an inspiration to us all,” agreed Geoffrey, “to see him, sleeves rolled up, his face blackened by smoke, giving orders as to where the gunpowder should be laid.”

“And he was merry with it,” said my father-in-law.

“A man,” put in Uncle Toby, “who would meet any disaster with a merry quip which puts heart into us all.” He raised his goblet. “A health unto His Majesty.”

And we all drank it and someone started the ballad which was being sung throughout the country:

“Here’s a health unto his Majesty

With a fal, la, la, la, la, la, la

Confusion to his enemies

With a fal, la, la, la, la, la, la

And who will not drink his health

I wish him neither wit nor wealth

Nor yet a rope to hang himself

With a fal, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

And we all joined in, thanking God that, in spite of the plague and the fire which He had seen fit to bring upon us, there was not one of us who would have gone back to the Puritan way of life. All of us were with the King in spite of his growing reputation for profligacy.

There was rejoicing in the streets. The fire was over, and if many had lost the homes they had known for years, there were now promises to rebuild London, a different city, with wider streets where the sun and air could reach the lower rooms of houses, proper gutters where the drainage could run away and not harbour rats and give out noisome smells.

Carleton said: “This fire could well be a blessing in disguise. Christopher Wren is going to build a fine cathedral in place of old St. Paul’s. He has designs for other buildings. The King is excited by them. He showed me some of them today.”

And in spite of the terrible problems created first by the plague and then by the fire which had followed so closely, there was optimism in the air. Then this was tinged with suspicions and doubts.

Someone had caused the fire. Who? That was the question everyone was asking.

It was not long before a scapegoat was found.

There was whispering in the streets that it was the Papists. Of course it was. Had they not destroyed eighty-eight churches—the great cathedral among them? They wanted to destroy the Protestants just as they had on St. Bartholomew’s Eve in France nearly a hundred years ago. The method was different. That was all.

People were marching through the streets, demanding the arrest and execution of Papists.

“The King will not allow that,” was the comment in our house. “He’s all for tolerance.”

“And some say,” said Uncle Toby, “that he flirts with the Catholic faith.”

“Flirting with the ladies is more to his choice, I’d say,” said Carleton quickly. “And if I were you, Uncle Toby, I would not repeat such comments. They might be ill construed.”

The King did set up an enquiry for the Privy Council and House of Commons to undertake, and it was a relief to have it proved that there was no foundation in the accusations.

Those days of terror had their effect on us, at least that was what I tell myself, but perhaps I am trying to make some excuse for what happened almost immediately afterwards.

We had not yet returned to Eversleigh but planned to do so within a few days. My parents had gone to Far Flamstead and Geoffrey to his estate. Lord and Lady Eversleigh, with Uncle Toby and Charlotte, had gone in the carriage to visit some old friends of theirs on the other side of Islington. Carleton had ridden over. As I had never met their friends and wished to make my preparations for our departure, I said that I would stay in the house.

It proved to be a fatal decision. I often thought how such a small incident, seemingly insignificant at the time, can affect the course of our lives.

No sooner had they set out than it started to rain. Within an hour it was torrential. The wind had come up again and I wondered how they were faring.

I busied myself with getting my things together and laying out the little gifts I had bought for the boys. I had drums and a hobbyhorse apiece and battledores and shuttlecocks, and I had bought them new jackets and complete riding outfits apiece.

I gloated over these things, packed them and unpacked them while I anticipated the pleasure they would give.

The afternoon grew darker. The rain was still falling, the wind still howling. It was going to be a rough night.

At six o’clock I ordered that the candles be lighted, for it was very dark, and Matilda had said they would be back not later than six. She had no fancy for being out when the light was failing. The roads were thick with thieves and no one was safe. These men carried blunderbusses and did not hesitate to use them if their victims did not surrender their possessions with speed.

So I was sure Matilda would insist on their returning early, as it was such a dark day. In fact I had expected them to be in before this.

The minutes ticked away. It was seven o’clock. Something must be wrong. I was now beginning to be anxious.

It was just after seven when I heard someone come in. I hurried down the stairs and, to my surprise, there was Carleton. He was soaked to the skin, the water dripped from his clothes and was even running from his hat down his face.

“What a plight!” he cried seeing me. Then he laughed. “I rode back because I thought you’d be anxious. The carriage was stuck in the mud close to the Crispins’ place. They are all staying the night there. It would be folly to come back on a night like this.”

“Oh … they are all right then?”

“Perfectly all right. No doubt feasting on roast beef and warming themselves with malmsey wine at this moment, and I should not at all object to following their example. Have you supped?”

“Not yet … I was waiting …”

“We’ll sup together.”

“First you must get some dry clothes. I will have hot water sent to your room immediately. Get those things off without delay. Take a bath and get into dry things …”

“I am delighted to obey you.”

“Then pray do not stand there. Get to your room and I will have the water sent up at once.”

I felt excited. I pretended not to know why. I had not realized how anxious I had been. It was wonderful to know that they were all well, and I was glad that I was not going to be alone for the evening. Even Carleton, I told myself, was better than no one.

I went to the kitchen. “Master Carleton is wet through,” I told them. “He has ridden through this terrible weather from beyond Islington. He needs hot water … plenty of it. And have some soup made hot. We will sup as soon as he is ready.”

I went to my room. It was rather silly, I told myself, to be so elated, but I was looking forward to one of those verbal battles which were always inevitable when we were together.

I looked at myself in my mirror. It was a pity I was wearing this dark blue gown. The material was velvet and quite pleasant but it was not my most becoming gown. My eyes went to the cherry red silk.

What was I thinking of? If I changed I could be sure he would notice and he would imagine it had been done for him.

No, I must stay in my blue gown.

He was quicker than I had believed possible. He came into the winter parlour, which was used when there were only a few to eat together and where I had ordered that a fire be lighted, and I thought the room with the small tapestry on one wall and candles flickering in their sockets while the log fire threw a glow over the room was very attractive. The table had been laid for two and the dish of soup was already on the table, hot, steaming and smelling delicious.

He came in, fresh from his bath, ruffles at his neck and the sleeves of his shirt. He wore no jacket but a brocade vest. I thought: I suppose he looks handsome if one cares for that kind of saturnine looks.

“What a pleasure!” he cried. “Supper a deux. I could not have wished for anything more delightful. I enjoyed your solicitude … hustling me into my bath, making me take off my wet garments, making sure that I put on clean dry ones.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I merely suggested what would seem good sense to anyone. There is nothing to be grateful for in that.”

“You really did seem concerned. This soup tastes good.”

“Hunger seasons all dishes, they say.”

“Now that is a very profound statement.” He lifted one eyebrow and I was reminded poignantly of Edwin. “One which,” he went on, “I would expect from you. This wine is good. I have always had a fondness for malmsey. Come, you must drink with me.”

He poured more into my goblet.

“To the King,” he said. “May he reign many years.”

I could not refuse a loyal toast so I drank a little wine.

“Let me give you more soup.”

“I have had enough, thank you.”

“Then you will allow me to partake. Oh, this is pleasant. To sit here opposite you, dear Arabella. It is something I have always dreamed of doing.”

“We have sat opposite each other at table many times, I am sure.”

“You miss the point … deliberately, I think. But never alone. That was my meaning.”

“Tell me, were they much put out?”

“At first. It will be easy to get the carriage moving when the rain subsides. They were fortunate to be so near their destination. I rode on and had a carriage brought to them and we took them there safely. They will now be sitting round a table like this, talking of their adventures, wondering what will happen next. First the fire of London, and then my Lord Eversleigh and his family get stuck in a coach!”

“It was an ordeal for them.”

“Amusing, really. I said I shall ride back in good time so that I can let Arabella know what happened. You see, I was thinking of you. What good roast beef this is. Excellent!”

Silently the servants moved in and out carrying the food. He ate very heartily and drank equally so, I thought.

When he had eaten of the roast beef and taken some capon besides and then apples and nuts, he said to the servants: “Leave us now. You can clear this away in the morning. Mistress Eversleigh and I have much to discuss.”

I could not protest before them, but as soon as they had gone, I said: “I cannot imagine what we have to discuss which is so very private.”

“You know there is our Great Matter.”

“What is this Great Matter?”

“Our future. Our marriage. When is it going to be, Arabella?”

“Never, I should say.”

“That is cruel. And untrue. I’ll wager you …”

“I rarely wager and never would on such a matter.”

“Wise lady. You would be sure to lose. I believe you are one of those clever one who only wagers when she is certain of winning.”

“It’s a good principle.”

“Ah, if only more of us had the wit to carry it out. Now, Arabella, we decided when last we talked that it would be an excellent solution for us to marry. Edwin would have a father, which he sorely needs, and you a husband for whom your need is as great.”

“I happen to think differently. If Edwin is in such sore need as you imply, there might be another alternative.”

“If you married Geoffrey you would be regretting it in a week.”

“Why should you come to that conclusion?”

“Because I know him and I know you. You want someone who is a man.”

“So Geoffrey is not?”

“He is a good sort. I have nothing against him.”

“I can see you are determined to be fair-minded.”

He rose suddenly and was round the table. He had put his arms about me and began kissing my lips and my throat.

“Please go away. If the servants come in …”

“They won’t. They daren’t disobey me. That’s what I mean about being a man.”

“Well, subduer of servants, I am not one of them, remember.”

“I did not forget that for one moment. If you were one of them, I should not have put up with your nonsense so long.”

“You would have commanded me to submit to you, I daresay. And you being such a man and I in a humble capacity, I would not have dared refuse.”

“You quiver a little, Arabella. When I hold you like this, I can feel you trembling in my arms.”

“With rage.”

“You would be a passionate woman if you would be yourself.”

“Who am I … if not myself? I am myself and I know this: I want you to go to your room and stay there and I shall go to mine.”

“What a cruel waste of time! Listen, Arabella, I want you. I love you. I am going to marry you and show you it is the best thing in the world for us both.”

“I think I will say good night and go to my room.”

I rose and went to the door, but he was there before me, barring my way. I shrugged my shoulders, trying hard to quell a rising excitement. He is capable of anything, I thought with a shudder, which if I were honest I must say was not entirely unpleasant.

“I insist on talking to you. I rarely have such an opportunity.”

“Really, Carleton, I do assure you there is nothing more to be said. Now let me pass.”

Slowly he shook his head. “I insist that you listen to me.”

With a weary shrug I went to the table and sat down.

“Well?”

“You are not as indifferent to me as you pretend. When I hold you I sense that. You are fighting your impulses … all the time you are doing that. You are living a pretence. Pretending you have finished with love … pretending that you don’t want me … pretending to think all the time of your dead husband …”

“That is not pretence,” I said.

“Give me a chance to prove it.”

“You prove to me what I think! I know without proof from you.”

“You are wasting your life.”

“That is surely for me to decide.”

“If only you were concerned, perhaps. But there is someone else.”

“You?” I said with a laugh.

“Yes … me.”

“It is you who should face up to the truth. You would like to marry me. Yes, I can see that. It would be very convenient. You want Eversleigh. You believed you would have it one day. Then Edwin was born and he stood in your way. He died, but he had a son and now he stands between you and what you hoped for. And there is one other who comes before you, Uncle Toby. Even if my Edwin did not exist, Toby would inherit before you did. However, you want to be in command. If I married someone else he would be Edwin’s stepfather. He would guide Edwin. He would teach him what he has to learn. That does not appeal to you. You might lose your hold on Eversleigh. Therefore, being most conveniently free to marry, you would marry me. Now is that not the whole of it?”

“Not the whole truth,” he said.

“So you admit to part of it.”

“Unlike you, I face facts.”

“And I do not?”

“Certainly, you do not. You want to marry me, and you pretend you don’t. Perhaps you don’t even realize that you want to. You are caught up in such a web of deceit.”

“You talk nonsense. What you don’t know is that I was once married to the only man I could love. He was noble, honourable … He died for the cause he believed in. Do you think anyone could ever replace him in my heart?”

Carleton burst out laughing. His eyes suddenly blazed with anger. “Are you telling me that you have never guessed the truth?”

“The truth? What truth?”

“About your saintly husband.”

“I hate to hear you mention his name. You are unworthy …”

“I know … to unlatch his shoes, I believe. Edwin was no worse than the rest of us, perhaps … but no better.”

“Stop it, I say, stop it.”

He took me by the shoulders and shook me.

“It’s time you knew the truth. It’s time you stopped living in a dream. Edwin married you for the same reason that you accuse me of wanting to marry you. His parents wanted it … and so did your parents. He would have preferred … Surely you know?”

I felt myself go limp with rage and horror. I could not believe I was hearing correctly.

“I am tired of remaining silent,” went on Carleton, speaking tensely and rapidly. “I’m tired of standing by and joining in the pretence. Edwin had great charm, didn’t he? Everyone liked him. He tried to be everything to everyone … just the very man each one wanted him to be. He was always liked and he was very good at it. You wanted the young romantic lover, and it seems he played the part to perfection. He had you believing him.”

“What do you mean? Whom … would he have preferred?”

“That great friend of yours, of course. Harriet Main. Were you completely blind? She hoped he would marry her, but that would be asking too much of him. His parents would have objected. Edwin never upset anyone if he could help it. Besides, he knew at once that you were the suitable partner. That didn’t stop those two though. I can assure you of that.”

“Harriet … and Edwin?”

“Wasn’t it clear? Where do you think he was on those nights when you were alone in the big bed, eh? Out on his secret mission? Oh, it was secret all right. He was with her. Sleeping with her. Forgetting his dear, little, trusting wife. Why do you think she brought you to England? Because she wanted to be with him. That’s why. She was out collecting her plants! He was on his secret mission! How odd that both should take them to the old arbour. They spent a good deal of time there together. Too much. Do you know why he was shot? I would take you to the man who shot him, but he is dead now. It was Old Jethro, the hermit-Puritan. He shot his dog for coupling with a bitch, and what he did to a dog he was clearly ready to do to a man and woman … if these things were done outside the lawful marriage bed. In an arbour, for instance.”

“I … don’t believe it.”

“You know it’s true. Come, Arabella, you are a sensible young woman. You know the way of the world.”

“I don’t believe it of Edwin.”

“Shall I have to prove it to you?”

“You can’t. The man who killed him is dead, you say … a likely story. When did he so conveniently die?”

“Soon after he killed Edwin. He told me himself. He had watched them when they met. He had put himself into a place where he could see. Then he brought the gun and he shot them … in the act.”

I covered my face with my hands, trying in vain to shut out the vivid pictures which forced themselves into my mind.

I could only repeat: “I don’t believe it. I will never believe it.”

“I can prove it to you.”

“If it’s true, why have you kept quiet so long?”

“Out of my regard for you. I thought you might come to realize it gradually. But when you keep flinging him at me … the sainted husband … it was more than I could bear. I am not a saint. I have been involved, doubtless, in more amorous adventuring than Edwin ever was … but I could never be as deceitful as he was. I could never have lied to you as blatantly, nor would I have brought a mistress and a wife on such an errand … unless of course they knew the circumstances and agreed to come.”

“Harriet … and Edwin,” I murmured. “It just is not true.”

“I am going to show you something,” he said.

“What?” I demanded.

“I found it on his body. Harriet came in in a state of distraction. She was safe, though I think the intention was to kill them both and leave them there … exposed … a lesson to sinners. That would have been typical of Jethro. But she escaped and came to me. She told me what had happened and I had him brought into the house. It seemed best then to let you think he had been killed because of his work and to hurry you and Harriet Main out of the country.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“No, you trusted Edwin. You trust the wrong people, as I am showing you.”

“It is merely your word … and I don’t trust you.”

“Then I will prove it to you. Wait there a moment.”

He had gone but I could not wait. I followed him up the stairs to his room. I stood in the doorway watching him as he lighted the candles and opened a drawer.

He brought out a piece of paper and, coming towards me, put an arm about me and drew me gently into the room.

The paper was bloodstained, and I recognized Harriet’s writing.

“I kept it,” he said. “I suppose I knew that one day I might have to show it to you. Sit down.”

I let him put me into a chair and he held me close while I read.

I do not want to record those words. They were too intimate, too revealing, and they had been written by Harriet. I knew her writing too well to doubt it. There could be no doubt of their pleasure in each other. There could be no doubt of their intimacy … an intimacy such as I had never dreamed of. She reproached him a little for marrying me. Poor Arabella! That was how she wrote of me, how they must have spoken of me. It was clear that they had been lovers from the beginning, before he had asked me to marry him, that when he had married me, he had gone on wanting her.

Of course. Of course. It was so easy to understand now. She was sublimely beautiful. No one could compare with her. It was understandable. Charles Condey had been a blind. She had never had any feeling for him. My mother-in-law had seen more than I had. That was why she had insisted that I play Juliet. But how innocent she was … as innocent as I. As though that could have made any difference.

So they had met when they could. They had deceived me, told me lies. “Alas, my love, I must go out tonight … this secret mission.” And he was going to Harriet. Harriet! I could see her laughing with him. “You managed to get away from her, then? Poor Arabella! Always so easy to deceive.” It was true … right from the beginning. I had believed she had hurt her ankle and was staying for that reason. I had believed she wanted to help me stay with Edwin and she had wanted him herself. I had believed …

Leigh, I thought. It was so. It must be so. Leigh was Edwin’s son.

My lips formed the boy’s name. “Leigh …” I said.

“Of course. There is a likeness in the boy. It’ll be more noticeable when he gets older.”

“Why …?” I began.

He knelt down by my chair and, taking my hand, kissed it. I let it lie in his.

“Because you had to know. It’s always best to know. I told you in a fit of passion. Perhaps it was wrong. But it’s best to know, Arabella.”

I was silent. He went on: “When you saw her again on the stage, I was afraid you were going to ask her to come here. You must never do that, Arabella. You must never trust that woman again.”

“I thought she was …”

“I know you thought she was your friend. She could never be a friend to anyone but herself. Forget her now. You know the truth. It’s over, Arabella. It was over years ago. Seven years have passed. Let them both pass out of your life as well.”

I said nothing. I sat there in a daze. I kept thinking of scenes from the past. They were going round and round in my head. Their faces gazed at me, laughed at me, sneered at me. I thought I could bear no more.

I wanted to run away and yet I wanted to stay. I could not bear to be alone now.

Carleton said: “It has been a shock. Here. Give me the letter. I am going to destroy it. It is better that it is lost forever.”

“No,” I said, “don’t.”

“What would you do with it?” he asked. “Read it again and again? Torture yourself with it?” He held it in the flame of the candle. I watched the edge of the paper scorch and shrivel before it burst into flame. “There, it is gone. Forget now that it was ever written.” Carleton dropped it in the grate, and I watched it until there was nothing left but the charred remains.

He went to a cupboard and, taking out a bottle, poured liquid into a glass and held it to my lips.

“It will soothe you,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”

He had his arms about me and I drank. The draught was like fire in my throat.

He was murmuring soothingly: “Now you are going to feel better. You are going to see that it happened a long time ago. It is over now. You have your beautiful son … and if it had never happened you would not have had him, would you? It is your legitimate Edwin who is heir to Eversleigh, not the bastard Leigh … not her child. And does she care? No, she went off and let you bring up the boy. Doesn’t that tell you the kind of woman she is?”

I felt dazed, as though I were floating in midair. He picked me up and carried me as though I were a baby. He was sitting in the chair holding me, rocking me tenderly, and I felt comforted.

So we sat thus and I heard him telling me that he loved me. That there had never been anyone he wanted as he wanted me, that everything was going to be wonderful for us both. I had not lost anything. Instead I had found that which would compensate me for everything I now thought I had lost.

I felt him gently unbuttoning my dress. I felt his hands on my body. He lifted me and, kissing me with the utmost tenderness, lay me on his bed.

Then he was with me and I felt dazed and yet somehow happy. It was as though I was escaping from bonds which had been restraining me for a long time. I heard him laugh in the darkness. His voice came from a long way off. And he kept calling me “His love, his Arabella.”

The Return of the Prodigal

WHEN I AWOKE, FOR a few seconds I felt dazed and bewildered. I looked about the unfamiliar surroundings. Memory came back. I was in his room. I sat up in bed. He was not there. I saw my clothes lying on the floor where they had been dropped last night.

I closed my eyes, childishly trying to shut out memories with the sight of that room. Last night … I thought of Carleton holding that piece of paper in his hand … that revealing paper which was positive proof of the deception which had been carried out against me. The desolation … how could I describe it? My dreams, my ideals on which I had lived for seven years had been demolished by one single stroke.

And afterwards … I could not fully remember how it had happened. He had comforted me. He had soothed my wounded vanity, perhaps. He had given me something to drink which had warmed me and at the same time dulled my resistance.

I had been like a wax doll in his hands—no will to resist, I just gave myself up to him. How could I! How could I!

And yet I had been unable to do otherwise.

Where had he gone? What time was it?

I got out of bed, and horrified by my nakedness I slipped my gown over my head. I went to the window. The rain was still falling. It was probably later than I had realized because it was a dark morning. I thought of the maid arriving at my room with hot water, finding my bed unslept in. Strange that at such a time I should be thinking of the proprieties.

I snatched my things from the floor and opened the door. I looked out. The house seemed quiet and I sped along to my room.

To my relief I saw from my clock that there were a good fifteen minutes before they would bring my hot water. I took off my dress and threw it into a cupboard with the rest of my things, then putting on a nightgown I got into bed.

Now I gave myself up to contemplation of what had happened. I wished I could stop thinking of that piece of paper writhing in Carleton’s hands. The words on it were indelibly written in my mind. How could they have deceived me so! How could I ever trust anyone again? But my overwhelming preoccupation was with my surrender. He had arranged it purposely. He had come to me when he knew that I was weak with misery. My conception of my marriage had crashed about my head, and he was there seizing the opportunity to offer me tender comfort, to daze me with his beverage, whatever that was, to weaken my resistance to him, to remind me that I had to turn to someone, to seek comfort somewhere, and he was there. Opportunity. No. He had contrived it. The idea must have come to him when the family coach was stuck in the mud and he knew they would be away for the night. He was cunning, he was devious, and I had given way to him.

I was trying to ignore those memories which came back to me. A wild and searing joy to be with him … Ecstasy there had been with Edwin, but different somehow. … Perhaps because with Carleton there was more than love and passion. There was a kind of mingling of love and hate which was surely wrong and yet … and yet …

I was a little afraid of myself. I was thankful that he had not been there when I awoke and realized how my life had changed overnight.

I thought then of my mother and my father in the days when he had been married to my Aunt Angelet. The passion which had flared up between them, of which she had written so vividly that even before I had experienced such emotions I had understood.

I was like her. I needed that which was called fulfillment. During the last years since Edwin’s death I had been only half alive. I had been living in a false world. I saw that now, and how inevitable it was that sooner or later I was going to let Carleton become my lover.

Why Carleton? Why did I not accept Geoffrey’s honourable offer of marriage? Because instinctively I had known that Carleton was the man for me. His virility could call forth a response in me. That I disliked him seemed to be no deterrent. Physically we were a perfect match. That I had discovered, and it was something he—with his knowledge of women and the world—had known immediately. He might feel that marriage with me was good for his ambitions, but at the same time it suited his physical needs.

I had grown up overnight.

Perhaps that was something I should be grateful for.

There was a knock on the door. The maid came in with hot water.

She said “Good morning, mistress,” and drew back the curtains.

I expected her to show by some way that she noticed the change in me. Surely I must seem different after my experiences? But she set down the water and brought me a note.

“Master Carleton went off early this morning, mistress. He left this note for you.”

I wanted to tear it open but had no wish to appear overeager.

I yawned, I hoped convincingly.

“Not a very good morning, Em,” I said.

“Still raining, mistress. I believe it’s been raining all through the night.”

Yes, I thought, the patter of rain against the windows … lying there with him … just not wanting to move away … forgetting everything but the need to be there.

“Tis to be hoped milord and milady and the others will get the coach set to rights.”

“I daresay they will, Em.”

She went out and I opened the note.

It was brief. “I have had to go out on Court business. I shall return during the day. C.”

No indication that anything unusual had happened. I felt a rush of disappointment. How could he go like that after what had happened? Was he implying that there was nothing extraordinary? It was all very natural that he and I should become lovers? It was what he had always suggested. Was he laughing in triumph now?

I felt angry with him and with myself. How could I have been so weak, so foolish!

It was the impulse of a moment, I told myself. I had had a shock and he was there. He had dulled my resistance with his strong wines. What was that he had given me? It had acted like some witch’s love potion. Perhaps it was. I could hardly imagine his trafficking with witches. But he was capable of anything.

I washed and dressed. I was thankful that I did not have to face him yet.

I was very pale. I found a little rouge and rubbed it into my cheeks. That was better. I thought how I had loved Harriet. She had been as a sister to me. I had been really upset when she had gone away. If I had known …

But what a stupid innocent I had been!

How long and dreary was that day. Nothing happened. I stood at the window watching the raindrops. The grass was sodden. The last of the leaves were rapidly being tossed to the ground and there was a wet bronze carpet on the grass.

Why didn’t he come in? How like him to go off on business. I didn’t believe it. Where was he? I wondered if he were with a woman. A feeling of intense rage possessed me. I should hate her … and him. I could never trust anyone again. Oh, Edwin … Harriet … how could you? How could I ever bear to look at Leigh again?

In the early afternoon a messenger came to the house. I ran down to greet him, sure that he came from Carleton.

He did not. He was from my mother-in-law. They had had greater difficulties with the coach than had seemed likely yesterday. A spoke in one of the wheels had been damaged and was being repaired. This meant that they would be away for one more night. If the rain would stop it would be easier. They would be with me tomorrow without fail.

The evening came and Carleton had not returned.

I was angry with him. He had succeeded as he always said he would. Was that what he wanted? One single victory.

I ate alone—or made a pretence of eating. How different from last night. I found myself longing to see his dark, clever, wicked face opposite me. I wanted to hear his voice mocking me. I wanted to respond.

I retired early. I went to bed. I tried to sleep but I could not. I could not read because I kept going over the events of last night.

It must have been nearly midnight when my door opened and he was there. He wore a loose night robe.

I felt faint with baffling emotions as he looked at me.

“I did not know you had returned,” I stammered.

“Did you think I could stay away? There was much business, but I was determined to be with you.” He blew out the candle he was carrying. “We shall not need it,” he said.

I struggled up, but he was beside me, pinning me down.

“There is so much to say.”

“We shall have the rest of our lives in which to say it, Arabella. I have been thinking of you all through the day. At last. At last … My heart’s desire …”

I heard myself laugh. “To hear you talk so … it is unlike you. Sentimental …”

“I can be sentimental, romantic … foolish … with one woman in the world. You are that woman, Arabella. At last you know it.”

“You should not be here,” I said.

“There is no other place where I should be.”

I suppose everyone wonders at himself or herself at some time. I wondered then.

Afterwards I could tell myself that I was so unhappy, so wretched that I had to stop myself thinking. I had to be shocked into forgetfulness.

In any case that night, without the aid of spirits or love potions, I was submissive … no, not that … responsive … and I knew that in the morning I should despise myself for giving way so blatantly to the sensuous demands of my nature.

When I awoke I was alone in my bed, and as before with the coming of daylight, I was surprised at my behaviour on the previous night. It seemed that I had two natures—one daytime and one my nighttime other self. Carleton filled my thoughts so that I even forgot to brood on Edwin’s deceit. What was the outcome to be? There seemed an inevitable solution. Marriage.

Marriage with Carleton, who clearly wanted it so that as Edwin’s stepfather he could have a stronger control over the Eversleigh estates. I had been married once for convenience. Should I do so again? Oh, but with Edwin … I thought of those delightful interludes which had seemed to me the expression of pure romantic love. I shivered. I would never again allow myself to be so used.

When I went to breakfast Carleton was already there.

He smiled at me. “Good morning, dear Arabella.” One of the servants was hovering and he went on with a lift of his eyebrows: “I trust you slept well?”

“Thank you, yes,” I replied.

“The rain has stopped at last,” he added. “Let us take a turn in the garden after breakfast, shall we?”

“I should like that,” I replied.

When we were a little way from the house he said: “The question now, Arabella, is not will you but when will you marry me?”

“I … am not sure about marrying.”

“What! You do not want to remain my mistress, surely?”

I was angry with him just as I used to be. He had the power to make me so. In place of the passionate lover who could be sentimental and romantic just for me, here was the cynic, the Court wit, the man I always wanted to do battle with.

“Let us forget what has happened.”

“Forget the most wonderful nights of my life! Oh, come, Arabella, that is asking too much.”

“You are mocking me as you ever do.”

“No, I am serious. When my uncle returns I shall tell him the good news. He will be delighted. I know he has long decided that a marriage between us would be an ideal solution for Eversleigh.”

“I am tired of being a pawn in this Eversleigh game.”

“Not a pawn, my darling. I told you once before, you are a queen.”

“A piece then … to be moved about this way and that. I am not at all sure that I want to marry you.”

“Arabella, you shock me. Remembering what I shall never, never forget …”

“You tricked me. You shocked me … and then you gave me something to drink. What was it?”

He laughed at me and lifted his eyebrows again.

“My secret,” he said.

I turned away. “I am undecided,” I retorted.

“At least there is some hope.”

“After what happened …”

“And it will happen again.”

“I don’t want it to.”

“Oh, Arabella, still deceiving yourself! There was no magic in a glass last night and yet, and yet …”

“Oh, you … you …!”

He took my hand and kissed it. “Tonight when they return we shall tell them?”

“No,” I said.

“You are surely not thinking of my rival Geoffrey now, are you?”

I was not, but I could not resist the impulse to let him think I might be.

“Because,” he said, “there would be trouble. Don’t think that what has happened between us is an isolated incident. When we are alone together it will happen again. We’re drawn together like the moon and the sun …”

“You are the sun in this partnership, I presume?”

“What does it matter which is which? It’s the drawing power of which I speak. Our being lovers is inevitable. It was from the first. I knew it. I wanted you. I wondered I didn’t take you down to the arbour and show you how your husband died. Taken in adultery.”

“Stop it!”

“I’m sorry. You arouse the worst in me … and the best, because you are the most maddening woman on earth … and yet I adore you.”

I softened as I always did when he showed me affection. I wanted to say: “Yes, I will marry you. After what has happened I must marry you.” On the other hand it would be for the convenience of them all, and after having been so cruelly deceived by Edwin, how could I be sure that Carleton was not deceiving me in the same way?

“I want time,” I said. “Time to think.”

“You need that … now?”

“Yes, I do, and I shall have it.”

I turned away from him and went into the house.

In the afternoon the party returned in the carriage. They were full of their adventures and could talk of nothing else. I listened, I must admit, with divided attention, for I could not but be amazed by all that had happened since I had last seen them.

Charlotte came to my room in the early evening and said: “Something’s happened. You seem different.”

“Do I?” I tried to sound surprised. I glanced round my bedroom and the bed which last night I had shared with Carleton as though I thought there must be something there to betray me. “In what way?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know … but you seem … excited and at the same time …”

“Yes?” I prompted, playing for time and wondering what she had noticed.

“I don’t know. I can only say … different.”

“I was very anxious on the first day when you didn’t come back. It was late before I heard what had happened.”

“Yes, Carleton said you would be worried and he would ride back to tell you.”

“It was a relief,” I said. “Well, we shall be going back to Eversleigh soon. I must confess I am longing to see the boys.”

Charlotte said no more of the difference in me, but I did catch her looking at me rather intently as the day wore on.

It was just before suppertime when the messenger came. There was some consternation, for his livery proclaimed that he was from the King.

During the digging after the fire, workmen had discovered Roman walls and tessellated pavements beneath the streets, and the King was greatly excited. He knew that Carleton had some knowledge of these matters and he wanted him to come to Court without delay. He wanted to talk with him and the next day they would pay a visit to the site.

Carleton, of course, had no alternative but to leave at once.

We returned to Eversleigh. We had been away much longer than we had intended and the children were delighted to see us. I had to tell them about the great fire and they listened round-eyed to the details of falling masonry, blazing roofs and molten lead running through the streets.

“Shall we have a fire here?” asked Leigh wistfully.

“Pray God not,” I replied sharply.

I was not sorry that Carleton had been called away. I wanted to think about the future and I found it easier to do that when he was not near.

I wondered what Edwin would feel about the change in our relationship. He did not dislike Carleton. Of course he had not the same feeling for him that he had for Geoffrey. Was that because Geoffrey had gone out of his way to interest and amuse? Both boys loved Uncle Toby who attracted them to him effortlessly.

I could not ask Edwin outright how he felt about Carleton. In any case I didn’t want to talk about Carleton. I really wanted to put him out of my mind. I was still stunned by my easy surrender, and in a way—perhaps unfairly—I blamed Carleton for it.

I made a habit of going to the arbour where Edwin’s body had been found. It was a gloomy place, hidden from the house by a shrubbery. As a place where murder had been committed it was neglected. No one cared to go near it, particularly after dark. I knew the servants avoided it, and so did the gardeners. The foliage round it was overgrown and rarely tended. It was a wooden structure and must once have been a very pretty retreat, secluded enough for privacy. The window through which the shot had been fired was now boarded up. No one had ever suggested that it should be replaced. I looked inside. It smelt damp and musty. There was a bench, a wooden chair and a small table with iron legs. I forced myself to step inside, and I stood there, imagining them together. A good place for an assignation. I saw the key hanging on a nail near the door. They could lock themselves in. They had forgotten that someone could have looked in from outside. Old Jethro … the avenging prophet!

Why did I come here, to exacerbate my wounds, I asked myself? I let myself picture the self-righteous Jethro, watching the lovers’ meeting, peering through that now boarded-up window at their abandoned lovemaking. I wondered if he had watched salaciously. That would not have surprised me. And then he brought out his gun and killed Edwin, taking him in the very act, which was scarcely what a Christian should do, since according to Jethro’s beliefs, Edwin would go to eternal damnation without hope of remission of his sins. Surely Jethro’s would be the greater crime in the face of heaven?

I often sat in the kitchen and talked with Ellen.

“Did you know Old Jethro?” I asked.

“Indeed, yes, mistress. Everybody hereabouts knew Old Jethro. Some said he was mad. His religion turned his brain. He used to beat himself with whips and wear a hair shirt just to make himself suffer. He thought it made him holy.”

“What did people hereabouts think of him?”

“Well before the King came back they reckoned he was a good man. He was all for the Parliament, but I think even they would not be stern enough for him. He once killed his dog for going with a bitch.”

“I had heard that.”

“He was all against maidens who forestalled their marriage vows. He’d be there in church when they was called to atone. He wanted ’em beaten and their bastards killed at birth.”

“A good Christian!” I said with sarcasm.

“It depends on what you see as Christianity.”

I thought I must go carefully, for Jasper had remained a stern Puritan and I would never forget how he had thought a pretty button was an object of the Devil.

“They say Young Jethro be as bad as his father and growing more like him every day.”

“Young Jethro?”

“Oh, he’d not be so young. I reckon he must be nearly forty now.”

“So he had a son. I am surprised, since he disapproved of dogs propagating their kind.”

“Old Jethro were married once. Oh, he was a bit of a rake in them days, so I heard. Then suddenly he saw the light. That’s what he says. God came to him in a vision and said, ‘Jethro, what you’re doing here is sinful like. You get out and preach my Word.’ So then he was reformed. His wife left him. Young Jethro was about five then. He kept the boy and, as I said, he’s made him another such as himself. Used to keep him chained up on his knees praying four hours a day.”

“Old Jethro died, then?”

“Yes, some time ago. Some said he starved himself to death and all them whippings didn’t help.”

“Where does Young Jethro live? Is it near here?”

“Not far. On the edge of the estate. In a sort of barn. Very rough it is and Young Jethro be his father all over again. He’s got a nose for sin. If there’s a bit of sin hereabouts he’d sniff it out. Polly, one of our kitchen girls, was in a bit of trouble. Jethro knew it before the rest of us … almost before Polly knew herself. Took her in his barn and told her she was damned and how the Devil was laughing his head off and getting his imps to stoke up the fires for her. Poor Polly: she went to her grandmother’s place and hanged herself. ‘Wages of sin,’ said Young Jethro. Poor Polly, ’twas only a little frolic in the stables. If she hadn’t got caught, she’d have been no worse than the rest.”

“This Young Jethro sounds a very uncomfortable sort of person to have about.”

“Them that’s over good is often uncomfortable, mistress.”

I agreed.

By an odd chance a few days later when I was riding with the boys, we tethered the horses and went down to the beach near that cave where I had sheltered with Harriet and Edwin when we had come back to England. I had a morbid fancy for returning to such places and conjuring up visions of the past.

There on the shingle the boys took off their boots and dabbled their feet in the sea while I sat watching them.

The waves were a little rough on that day and every time one came in they would shriek with laughter, run forward daringly and then run back. Then they amused themselves by sending pebbles skimming over the water.

The noise of the sea, the odour of seaweed, the happy shrieks of the boys were a background to my thoughts. I remembered the boat’s coming in. I pictured Edwin and Harriet exchanging looks. I tried to remember what they had said, and how they had said it. It was there for me to see and I had been blind.

I was aware suddenly of a crunching of boots on the shingle and looking up I saw a man coming along. He carried a basket in which he had some pieces of driftwood and perhaps other things he had picked up during his beachcombing.

He was muttering to himself. “Sinful. Should be beaten.” I knew instinctively that I was face to face with Young Jethro whose father had murdered my husband. I could not let him pass. “Sinful?” I cried. “Who is sinful?” He pulled up and looked at me with fierce, fanatical eyes shaded by brownish yellow brows so untidy that they sprouted in all directions and threatened to cover his eyes themselves. His great pupils stood out, for the whites of his eyes showed all round them so he had a look of fierce surprise and horror. His mouth was tight and drawn in, turning down at each side.

“Them bits of sin,” he said pointing to the boys. “I can assure you that they do not know the meaning of sin.”

“You go against God’s Word, woman. We be all born in sin.”

“Even you?”

“God help me, yes.”

“Well since you share in the sin, why are you so eager to point it out in others?”

“Laughing, shrieking … two days off the Sabbath!” I felt angry with him. His father had killed Edwin. But for his father Edwin would not have died. I might never have discovered his infidelities. But could he have gone on through his life pretending …

“Nonsense,” I said, “people are meant to be happy.” He moved away from me as though he feared to be contaminated by such wickedness. “You’re a sinful woman,” he said. “God will not be mocked.” Edwin had seen the man. He thought I needed protecting and came running up.

“Mama, Mama, did you want me?”

I was so proud of him. He looked up boldly into that repulsive face and said: “Don’t you dare hurt my mama.”

I had risen to my feet and placed my hand protectively on my son’s head.

Recognition dawned on Young Jethro’s face. “I knew your father,” he said.

“My father was the best man in the world,” said Edwin.

“Ananias,” cried Young Jethro. “Ananias.”

“What does he mean, Mama?” asked Edwin.

I did not speak. I was very shaken by this man who knew so much about my husband.

“The wages of sin …” muttered Young Jethro, his eyes on Edwin.

Leigh came running up. He was breathless. “I’ve thrown a pebble over and over the water. It’s gone all the way to France.”

“It couldn’t have,” said Edwin.

“It did. It did. I saw it go.”

Young Jethro had gone off muttering, “And the wages of sin is death.”

“Who’s that old man?” asked Leigh.

But Edwin was thinking of the pebble which had gone skimming across the water to France and was determined to throw one himself.

“Show me,” he said. “I’ll send one farther than you.”

They raced back to the water while I watched the retreating figure of Young Jethro.

I think I knew it was going to happen, and when I was sure, I felt a sense of relief because fate had made up my mind for me.

I knew I must act quickly and I did.

When I was alone with Carleton, I said: “I am pregnant.”

His eyes lighted up. His face seemed to shine with the enormity of his satisfaction.

“My dearest Arabella. I knew it.” He had lifted me in his arms. He held me tightly. He kissed me again and again. We were in the garden and I said: “We could be seen.”

“Does it matter? A man is allowed to embrace his future wife. Oh, my dear girl, this is the happiest moment of my life.”

“It is what you wanted. You will be Edwin’s stepfather and Eversleigh will be yours in all but name.”

“As if I was thinking of Eversleigh.”

“You know you always are thinking of it.”

“I am thinking of everything. My wife and already carrying our child. That is wonderful. I am an impatient man, you will find, my darling. This suits my mood. I am to acquire a wife and a child in the shortest possible space of time.”

“I see no alternative but marriage,” I said, trying to sound doleful.

“There is no alternative. I shall go straight in and tell my uncle. I know he’ll be delighted. It was what he wanted. Or shall we marry secretly? Then we might have another ceremony and festivities later. That would account for the early arrival of our child.”

“I did not think you were one to set such store by the proprieties.”

“I like to observe them when they fit in with my needs. Oh, Arabella, I am a happy man this day. That which I have so long desired has come to pass. Yes, let us marry in secret. I will arrange for a priest to do this. Then we will tell my uncle, and I know they will probably want another ceremony and celebrations here.”

“There seems no point in such subterfuge.”

“Yes. Because the sort of wedding they will wish us to have might take a little time to arrange. There is our child to consider. We want him to make a respectable entrance into the world.”

“Please do not think I am duty bound to provide you with a boy.”

“Believe me, it is Arabella I want. I shall be grateful for whatever she deigns to give me. Leave this to me, Arabella. Arabella, how I adore you.”

“At least,” I said, “I should be grateful that you are ready to make an honest woman of me.”

“Never change.” He smiled at me gently. “I could not bear you to change. There was always something of the polygamist in me, so I need my two Arabellas. Arabella of the sharp tongue by day and Arabella adorable, loving me as I love her in the dark of the night.”

“There is only one of me, you know. Do you think I can really supply all your needs?”

“You already have the answer to that. Proof positive.”

He went off that day and did not come back until the morning of the following one. I was to meet him at the stables that afternoon. We rode off some five miles together and there in a small church we were married. Two of his Court friends were witnesses.

I said: “It is exactly like what I hear of a mock marriage. I believe that is a practice some of your profligate friends indulge in now and then.”

“Alas, they do. But this is no mockery. This is true and binding. We shall go straight back to Eversleigh and I will tell my uncle that we are married, but I shall not tell him when the ceremony took place. I’ll promise you he will insist on our being married in the Eversleigh church with many spectators and a feast to follow. Then you will not be able to say it is like a mock marriage.”

I felt an odd elation, a desire not to look beyond the moment. I was too excited to be unhappy.

By a stream we paused to rest awhile. We tethered the horses and sat on the grass.

Carleton took my hand and said: “So at last it has happened.”

“You always knew it would, didn’t you?” I said. “You made up your mind and what you decide you want you get eventually.”

“It seems to work that way,” he admitted with unaccustomed modesty.

I looked at the ring he had put on my finger. I had taken off that which Edwin had given me and had left it in a drawer in my court cupboard.

He took my hand and kissed the ring. Then he put his arms about me and drew me down beside him.

I said uneasily: “We should be going.”

He answered that we should celebrate our marriage.

I knew what he meant and I tried to rise. “Someone could come past,” I said.

“This is a very isolated spot. Besides, I want you now. Do you realize this stupendous fact? You and I have just been married.”

Then he held me to him and laughed and the leaves fluttered down on us as he made love to me.

The notion came to me that it would always be what he wanted unless I firmly resisted which, I promised myself, I should do if the inclination so moved me.

But I would be honest. I was elated. I didn’t know whether this was happiness. It was not what I had found with Edwin, but I wanted no more of that.

Excitement, passion, satisfaction. How much more appealing than romantic love!

I never intend to be hurt again, I told myself.

Carleton was right. There was great rejoicing when my father and mother-in-law were told the news.

“You sly dog,” cried Lord Eversleigh, gripping Carleton’s hand. “Marrying in secret, eh? Keeping it from us.”

Matilda embraced me warmly. “My dearest daughter,” she said, “for that is what you are to me. Nothing could have pleased me more.” She whispered: “You will be so good for Carleton … after that unfortunate marriage. It makes everything so right.”

“Why did you keep it secret?” asked Charlotte; her voice was cool but there was a strange edge to it.

Carleton was ready for her. “We decided on the spur of the moment. We knew that if we announced a formal betrothal, you would have wanted us to wait and do everything in style. I know you, Aunt Matilda.”

“Yes,” said her husband, “that would have been just like you, Matilda.”

“Naturally I should have wanted to have had a beautiful wedding. In fact …”

“It’s coming,” said Carleton. “What did I tell you, Arabella?”

Then Matilda said that of course if would be pleasant to have another celebration. That could be done. “Everyone will be so disappointed if we don’t. We owe it to everyone on the estate …”

Carleton looked at me and smiled.

“We’ll consider it, eh, Arabella.”

I said we would, for I could see that Matilda was already making her plans.

She thought that we should have a ceremony in the church—people never really liked those secret ceremonies—and there would be a reception afterwards at the house. The servants should have theirs in the hall beyond the screens. It was traditional.

“We must let everyone know that it is a repeat performance,” said Carleton.

“Oh …” said Matilda, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Then she turned to me and embraced me. “You have brought great happiness to Eversleigh, Arabella … as always.”

Charlotte sought an opportunity to speak to me. I was passing her bedroom and she called me in to show me, she said, how she was progressing with a piece of tapestry she was working. That was just a pretext, I quickly realized.

“I am thinking of working in a new shade of red, so you think it would be the right thing to do?”

I said I thought it would be very good.

“So you are already married to Carleton?” she went on.

“Yes.”

“It seems so strange. I thought you didn’t like him. Were you pretending?”

“Of course not. It was just … our way.”

“You always seemed to be sparring together … trying to score over each other.”

“I suppose we were.”

“Then how could you be …?”

“Relationships are complicated, Charlotte.”

“I see that they are. You were different with Edwin.”

My lips tightened. “Yes,” I said.

“You loved Edwin dearly. It was a terrible tragedy. People suffer when they fall in love. Perhaps it would be better not to.”

“That’s certainly a point of view.”

“Was Carleton implying that you are already …?”

“I am going to have a child,” I said.

“Is that why … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was just that it was such a surprise. You and Carleton, when I thought you disliked him. Of course I knew he was interested in you … but then, if all accounts are true, he is interested in lots of women.”

“From now on,” I said lightly, “he will have to be interested in one only.”

“Do you think that you can make a man interested in you only?”

“I believe that is what a wife must find out for herself by trying, of course.”

“You are attractive, Arabella. I’ve always seen that. It was only when that woman came …”

“You mean Harriet,” I said firmly.

“Harriet Main,” she repeated softly. And I guessed she was thinking of how Harriet had wantonly taken Charles Condey from her and then refused him.

“I am going to change things at Eversleigh, Charlotte,” I said. “We shall have balls and banquets. I think we should. And then you will …”

“Yes—” she said.

“Perhaps you’ll find out that there are other men in the world besides Charles Condey.”

“Oh, I always knew that,” she replied, smiling at me.

I’ll do it, I told myself. I’ll bring her out. I’ll find a husband for her. I’ll stop her brooding on the past. I had freed myself from it. So should she.

Yes, that was how I felt during the months that followed. I was free from the ghost of the past. Edwin had never really loved me. A bitter revelation, but it was proving helpful. I could not let my resentment against him smoulder. I was someone else’s wife now.

And Carleton. What can I say except that he carried me along on the waves of passion like a frail craft on hitherto uncharted seas? I began to wait to be alone with him, to long for him, to give myself up to him entirely.

I understood so much of what my mother had told me. I knew how she had fought against such a passion. I understood her story as I had never been able to before. She came to Eversleigh for the wedding celebration with my father and the rest of the family. Lucas could not come because his wife was having a baby.

My parents were delighted. I could see they liked Carleton. My mother told me confidentially that she could clearly understand the attraction, and she was sure I should be even happier in my second marriage than I had been in my first. I realized then that, although she had considered Edwin a suitable husband, she had felt he was so young and not quite as serious as she would like the husband of her darling daughter to be.

Carleton talked a great deal with my father. They discussed the state of the country—my father from the military angle, Carleton from that of politics. They were clearly interested in each other.

After they had returned to Far Flamstead, my mother wrote frequently and they were all delighted at the prospect of the birth of my child.

Happy days they were. Uncle Toby was beside himself with delight.

“There is nothing pleases me so much as to see young people happily married. There is nothing like marriage. Married bliss—ah, it should be the dream of us all.” He became maudlin when he had drunk too much wine, talking of all he had missed. And now he was forced to go and watch pretty women on the stage and try to live vicariously the adventures they portrayed there. If he had married he might have had sons and daughters by now. Ah, it was sad. Life had passed him by.

He was constantly going to London. Carleton said there was not a play in London that he had not seen. He was either at the King’s House or the Duke of York’s. He was an honoured patron there and well known in the green rooms.

“Poor Uncle Toby,” said Carleton. “He’s trying to catch up with youth.”

Christmas came and went, and with the New Year I began to be more and more aware of my child. Sally Nullens was joyous. Nothing could delight her more than the prospect of having a baby in the house. “The boys are growing out of babyhood,” she said. “My word, they’re a handful. It will be pleasant to have a little one.”

Carleton was the devoted husband. He was beside himself with joy, and I realized how frustrated he must have felt during all the years when he was married to Barbary. I knew he was thinking of a son. I kept reminding him that our child might well be a girl.

He said it wouldn’t matter. We should have boys in time.

“Pray allow me to deliver this one first,” I retorted.

Indeed, they were happy days. We bantered our way through them, always taunting each other, and there were nights tender more than passionate now that my pregnancy was advancing.

I was no longer mourning for Edwin. I realized that I had kept that grief alive. Someone had said that the wise drown their sorrows, and it is only the foolish who teach them to swim. I thought that was apt. I had nourished my grief, I had brooded on it; I had built a shrine to Edwin in my heart—and I had worshipped a false God. Feet of clay indeed!

I was longing for my baby to be born.

She was born on the seventh of July, and I called her Priscilla. Carleton tried to pretend that he was not disappointed by the sex of the child, but he was; but to me she was perfect, and from the moment I saw her I would not have exchanged her for any other.

Priscilla. My Priscilla. I was taken right back to the days when I had first held Edwin in my arms. How dearly I had loved him; he had been more than my own child; he had been the consolation for the loss of his father. Priscilla I loved none the less. I loved her because she was a girl. She would be more completely mine. If Carleton was disappointed in her sex, I was not.

Great events might be happening away from Eversleigh. I could not think seriously about them; my life was centred round my child. When I heard that the Dutch fleet had sailed up the Medway as far as Chatham and had made themselves masters of Sheerness, I said how dreadful it was, but I was not thinking much about it. The Loyal London, the Great James and the Royal Oak were burned by the enemy and fortifications were blown up. I shuddered, but my thoughts were all for my child.

“We had never been so disgraced,” cried Lord Eversleigh, and I knew how deeply shocked my parents would be by the news.

But I could only think that Priscilla was gaining weight, that already she knew me and would stop whimpering if I took her. Already she would smile at me. I delighted in her.

The boys came to see her, and were amazed at her little hands and feet.

“She’ll never be able to run fast with little feet like that,” declared Leigh.

“Silly,” said Edwin. “She’ll grow big, won’t she, Mama? We were little like that once.”

“I was never as little,” boasted Leigh.

“Oh, yes, you were, I saw you,” I told him. I could never look at him without thinking of Edwin and Harriet together. I wondered when he had been conceived. It was before Edwin had been, because he was the elder.

I had to stop thinking of that because it was affecting my attitude to Leigh. It was not his fault that his parents had both deceived me so blatantly.

Uncle Toby was always making excuses to come to the nursery. He was enchanted by Priscilla.

“You lucky man,” he said to Carleton. “I’d give a lot to have a child like that.” Then he would talk sadly of his misspent youth and how different everything would have been if he had settled down and become a family man.

“It’s never too late,” said Carleton. “Shall we find a bride for him, Arabella?”

“We’ll have a house party,” I said. “We’ll invite as many eligible ladies as we can muster …”

And I thought: Someone for Charlotte. Poor Charlotte, she seemed to have grown even more unhappy of late. It was almost as though she had been affected by my marriage. I suppose it was seeing me with the children.

There was great jubilation when peace was declared with the French, the Danes and the Dutch, but Carleton told me that people were beginning to murmur against the King for concluding a peace which it was said was dishonourable.

“The country’s honeymoon with Charles is long over,” he said. “They are now murmuring … not so much against him as against his mistresses.”

“Which is somewhat unfair of them.”

“Alas, dear Arabella, the world often is unfair.”

I agreed it was, and we talked about Uncle Toby and the possibility of his finding a wife.

“We really must bestir ourselves,” I said.

As it happened there was no need for us to do that.

That September Uncle Toby went to London for a brief visit and it became a long one.

He wrote back to us that he was enjoying life in London. He was at the playhouse most days. He had seen Nell Gwyn as Alice Piers in The Black Prince, and better still in Dryden’s comedy An Evening’s Love as Donna Jacintha. He wrote lyrically of the charms of Nelly and how the rumours were that the King’s attentions were now fixed on her and poor Moll Davis was nowhere in the running.

“It appears he is enjoying the London scene,” said Carleton. “That will compensate him for all he has missed as a family man.”

Then quite suddenly came a letter which was addressed to Lord Eversleigh. We were all shown it and read it again and again. Carleton laughed immoderately.

“I never thought he would have gone as far as that,” he declared.

“What will happen now?” demanded Lord Eversleigh.

“What is natural!” said Carleton. “He will return here with the lady.”

The fact was that Uncle Toby had married a wife. According to him she was the most beautiful of women; she was attractive, amusing; everything he had wanted in a wife. He was the happiest man alive and he was going to share that happiness with his family.

The day after we received this letter he would be with us, for he was following close on the heels of his messenger.

The whole household waited eagerly.

True to his word Uncle Toby arrived with his bride. As they came through the gates we were all there waiting.

I stared. I thought I was dreaming. It could not possibly be so. But it was. Uncle Toby’s bride was Harriet Main.

The Shadow of Death

MATILDA’S IMMEDIATE REACTION HAD been alarm. For a few moments she could only stare at her unbelievingly when Toby presented her. I was sure she felt as I did that she was dreaming.

“Oh, I know you’ve already met Harriet,” Uncle Toby announced. “She has told me all about it, have you not, my love?”

“I said we should have no secrets,” she answered softly.

“And the devil of a job I had getting her to accept me,” went on Uncle Toby. “I thought I never should get her to agree.”

I felt my lips turning up at the corners cynically. I had no doubt that it had been her idea from the first and that her reluctance would have been as false as she was.

She lowered her eyes and succeeded in looking modest, but I knew, of course, what a good actress she was.

“Oh, Arabella,” she said, “How happy I am to see you again. I have thought of you so much. And you are married again … to Carleton. Dear Toby has been telling me.”

“It was their married bliss that made me see what I was missing,” said the doting old man. Poor Uncle Toby! He had no idea of the kind of woman he had married.

Matilda had recovered her composure. She could never for long fail in her duties as the perfect hostess.

“Well, Toby, I have had the blue room made ready for you.”

“Thank you, Matilda. It’s what I was hoping.”

“Shall I take Harriet up?” I asked.

Matilda looked relieved. “That would be very pleasant,” said Harriet.

I was very much aware of her eyes on me as she followed me up the stairs. I threw open the door of the blue room. It was pleasant, as all the rooms at Eversleigh nowadays, and so called because of the colour of its furnishing. Harriet studied the four-poster with blue hanging, the blue curtains, and blue carpets.

“Very nice,” she said. She sat on the bed and looked up at me smiling. “This is fun,” she said.

As I did not smile with her, her expression changed to one of concern.

“Oh, Arabella, you are not still holding out against me, are you? I had to leave Leigh with you. How could I take him with me? I knew you would be the perfect mother to him … far better than I ever could.”

“I know who his father was.”

She was wrinkling her brows and preparing to look innocent.

“Charles …” she began.

“No,” I said, “not Charles Condey. You contented yourself merely with taking him away from Charlotte. I know his father was Edwin.”

She turned a shade paler. Then her lips curled. “He told you, of course. Your new husband.”

“Yes, he told me.”

“Just what I should expect of him.”

“It was right that I should know after having been deceived by you for so long.”

“I can explain …”

“No, you can’t. There was a letter of yours on Edwin when he was killed. It was bloodstained, but not too much so to prevent my being able to read what you had written to him. It explained everything. I know about the meetings in the arbour and how you were caught there and shot by the Puritan fanatic.”

“Oh,” she said blankly. Then she shrugged her shoulders and reminded me so much of the occasions when I had discovered her prancing into the room—the first discovery of deceit which should have warned me. “Well,” she went on. “It’s the way of the world.”

“Your way, I know. I hope such behaviour is not general.”

“So now you hate me. Why should you? You have another husband now.” She smiled. “Let us forget the past, Arabella. I hated deceiving you. It made me so unhappy. It was just that I fell so madly in love that I couldn’t help it. But it’s over now.”

“Yes,” I said, “it’s over and now you have caught Uncle Toby.”

“Caught him! He was the angler. I was the little fish.”

“A fish who would only be caught if she wanted to be, I’m sure.”

“I’ve changed, Arabella. I’ll admit I let myself be caught.” She got off the bed and, going to the mirror, looked at her reflection. “I’m no longer quite so young, Arabella.”

“No,” I said bluntly.

“Nor are you,” she retorted sharply. Then she laughed. “Oh, Arabella, it is good to be with you. More than anything I have missed you. I’m so excited to be here. No one can turn me out now, can they? I’m a legitimate member of the household. I have the marriage bond to prove it. Harriet Eversleigh, of Eversleigh Court. There are only two people standing in the way of my becoming Lady Eversleigh. Lord Eversleigh himself and your son Edwin.”

“As my son is but seven years old I am inclined to think your chances are slight.”

“Of course. But it is nice to feel near, you know. Particularly when you have been a hardworking actress—and I’ll admit that times have been hard sometimes. To be able to say it’s quite unlikely but …”

“Stop it!” I cried angrily. “You are saying that if Edwin were to die …”

“I was only teasing you. How could Toby inherit? What made me feel a little jubilant was that he has made Carleton step aside.”

“I think this is a rather unpleasant conversation.”

“We are rather outspoken in the theatre, I’m afraid.”

“Then you will have to change now you are at Eversleigh Court.”

“I will, Arabella. I promise you. Dear Arabella, don’t be angry with me. Let us be friends. I want that so much. I have missed you. When anything unusual or comical happened, I always used to say to myself: ‘I should love to tell that to Arabella.’ I can’t bear that you should be cold to me.”

“In the circumstances how can you expect anything else?”

“You’ve changed, Arabella.”

“In the light of my discoveries, wouldn’t you expect that?”

She sighed. “I suppose so.”

“Now I will leave you. If you need anything, pull the bell rope and the maid will bring it.”

I turned and shut the door. My heart was beating fast. Something dramatic was certain to happen now that Harriet was in the house.

I went back to the drawing room where Matilda was sitting in the window, looking out.

“Oh, Arabella,” she said. “I don’t like it. How could Toby have done this?”

“He’s so enamoured of her. She is very attractive.”

“I suppose so. I shall never forget her coming to Villers Tourron, and how she suggested the play. It seemed such a good idea at the time and I was so pleased. But how it turned out! She took Charlotte’s lover. You can see how Charlotte feels about her being here. The poor girl was quite put out. I do wish she would be more amenable.”

“I have been intending for a long time to arrange some parties for her. I want her to meet people. I am sure it would be good for her.”

“You are a dear soul, Arabella. Such a comfort. I never cease to be grateful that you have become one of us. But this Harriet. Oh, how could Toby have done this to us!”

“It was I who brought her in the first place so I am to blame rather than he.”

“And having a child and going and leaving him with us as she did.”

I slipped my arm through hers. I was thankful that she did not know the real story. I wondered what her reaction would have been had she learned that Leigh was her own grandson.

“We have to accept it,” I said. “I daresay we shall grow accustomed to her being here.”

“You’re such a comfort,” said Matilda fondly.

Carleton and I discussed Harriet’s arrival when we were alone in our bedroom that night.

“You must be watchful of your old friend, my darling,” he said. “I wonder what she is planning now.”

“I think she must have fallen on lean times. So perhaps she is revelling in the comfortable position she has brought herself to.”

“Just at first perhaps. Then she will be looking around for mischief.”

“Perhaps she has grown out of that by now.”

“I’ll wager she never will.”

“How could she come here!”

“She didn’t know that you were aware of the part she had played with Edwin.”

“But she knew you did.”

“She wouldn’t care about me. She would regard me as a fellow sinner.”

“I told her I knew. It came out. I had to.”

He nodded. “I would have expected you to. You could never hide your feelings. My dear, honest Arabella.” He came over to me and put his arms about me.

“We will be on our guard,” he said. “And now … let us forget her.”

So Harriet was once more with us and this time she was in her rightful place. She had become an Eversleigh—one of us.

Uncle Toby’s pride in her was touching. His eyes followed her; he was bemused as though asking himself how such a glorious creature could possibly have married him. She had aged a little, although she concealed this with artifice and it was only occasionally that it was noticeable. Then I saw that there were light shadows under her eyes and fine lines about her mouth. But she would always be outstandingly beautiful and everyone must admit that.

It was amazing how she settled in. That Matilda was cool to her did not affect her. Nor did the fact that she had been my late husband’s mistress. Her manner of shrugging these facts aside was disarming.

She was very eager to see Leigh, and when I took her to the nursery he was with Edwin. She looked from one to the other, not knowing which was her son.

Both boys regarded her with some sort of awe.

“You’re a stage actress,” said Leigh. I suppose he had heard the servants talking.

“You’re Uncle Toby’s new wife,” added Edwin.

She told them they were both right, and very soon she was telling them about the stage and the plays she had acted in and they were clearly fascinated.

She had lost none of her charm. Uncle Toby was her adoring slave and that was easy to understand, but when I saw her exert it over the boys, I knew that she had lost none of her gifts and I remembered how little Fenn had adored her.

What was almost incredible was that I found myself being caught up in the old spell. My resentment was gradually weakening. Although I still thought of her and Edwin together now and then, it no longer angered me. She made a great effort to win back my friendship and she was gradually succeeding.

She had a gift of narrative and it was not long before I was hearing about her adventures.

“I knew it wouldn’t last with James Gilley,” she told me. “But I had to go. What else could I do? What life could I have given Leigh? I had to think of my baby. I knew that you would look after him and that with you he would have a good life. So I forced myself to part with him. It was a wrench. You don’t know how I suffered …”

I narrowed my eyes and smiled at her.

“You don’t believe me. I understand. I don’t deserve your trust. I can see how you feel. But Edwin was so persuasive and I was half in love with him. He wasn’t good enough for you, Arabella. I used to tell myself that and it would salve my conscience. I used to say if I was not the one, there’d be someone else. Better for Arabella’s sake that I should be the one.”

“That’s an odd way of looking at it.”

“I thought at first he would marry me, Arabella. I think he would have if he’d not been so weak. But he had always done what he was told and what the family expected. Then when I realized that he was going to marry you, it had gone too far to stop.”

“You were so deceitful, Harriet.”

“I know. It was forced on me. You know how I have had to battle. Nothing came easily to me. I used to tell myself: Once you are married to a man who can keep you in comfort then you can repent your sins and start to be a good woman.”

“So you are now embarked in that path of virtue?”

“I am. Arabella, I assure you I am. It can happen you know. Look at Carleton.”

“What about Carleton?”

“What a rake he was and now he’s reformed. He is a model husband now, I am sure. He glances neither to left nor to right. His eyes are firmly fixed on his Arabella.”

I looked at her sharply. Was she laughing at me? Was she hinting at something?

She read my thoughts. “No, I mean it. He’s turned into the devoted husband. Well, now I shall turn into the devoted wife.”

“I am glad to hear it. I should hate Uncle Toby to be hurt. He’s such a darling.”

“I agree with both those sentiments. You must admit I have made him a happy man. I shall keep him so to the end of his days. Oh, he was so good to me. He used to come to the playhouse whenever I was playing, and when I heard who he was, naturally I pricked up my ears. I was Roxalana in The Siege of Rhodes when he first saw me. He came backstage afterwards, and you can guess how excited I was when I heard he was Toby Eversleigh. I asked him a good many questions about his family when we supped together, and over the wine of which he partook more freely than I did, I heard of you and what was happening here at Eversleigh Court.”

“And decided to join us.”

“Not just then. I had to wait until I was asked. It was after I was Carolina in Epsom Wells that he was so deep in love with me that he had reached the pestering stage. He was different from others. He spoke of marriage right from the first. Of course I was reluctant. What a situation! And I told him, No I could not think of it, and the more I said No the more determined he became. Then I made my little confession …”

“When you were sure of him, of course.”

“Of course, and I had to forestall Carleton whom I wouldn’t have trusted to keep quiet. And he said no matter what I had done, he loved me. I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He wanted me to marry him and so on. And I thought: To go back there … to live under the same roof as Arabella … You may not believe it but those were some of the happiest days of my life at Congrève. I enjoyed them. I loved little Fenn and Angie and Dick. You remember the play we did? And those Lambards. Wasn’t it fun? I wanted to recapture all that. Besides, I wanted the standing of a married woman. I could have gone higher. Oh, yes, I’ve had lovers. The King noticed me one night. He would have sent for me but the plague came and the theatres were shut. Then there was the fire and after that there was Moll Davis and now Nell Gwyn. Young girls really. When I was their age …”

“You would have outshone them all.”

“Youth! How wonderful it is! I never did like things that didn’t last, and there’s nothing more perishable than youth.”

“You were still young enough to capture Toby.”

“Toby’s an old man. I was wise to choose an old man. It’s one way of keeping perennially young. When he is sixty I shall be …” She smiled at me mischievously. “Still in my thirties. Quite a girl in his eyes, you see.”

Yes, she was winning me over. I was already forgiving her.

But I should always be wary.

The autumn came in wet and blustery. One day Lord Eversleigh, who had been to London, returned with a shivering fever. He was wet through to the skin and had come from the inn where he had spent the night, riding throughout the day in the heavy rain.

Matilda was most distressed to see him. She set the maids scurrying for warming pans and got him to his bed. He would be all right in a few days, she insisted, and he should have known better than to get wet through and stay wet all those hours. He knew very well it was bad for his chest.

I had rarely seen her so anxious—and not without cause. Lord Eversleigh developed a cold and in a short time his lungs were congested and there was a hushed pall of anxiety hanging over the house.

Carleton had been in London with the King, who was still interested in the Roman finds, but he hurried back to Eversleigh. He was too late to see his uncle alive.

It was a very sad, dark day when we buried him in the family vault in the Eversleigh churchyard. He had been a quiet, unassuming man for all his position, and he had been generally respected. Matilda was beside herself with grief. She told me she could not imagine life without him.

“My dear Arabella,” she said, “you suffered a similar loss. My dearest Edwin, taken in the prime of his youth. I cannot imagine which is worse, to lose a young husband or one who was become part of one over so many long and happy years.”

I did my best to comfort her, and we were together a great deal. I listened to her accounts of the pleasant life she had had since her marriage and how wonderful her dear husband had been at the time of Edwin’s death. “I could not have lived through that but for him,” she declared. “Dear Edwin, he was such another as his father.” I thought, if she knew! But she must never know. “Thank God there is young Edwin. He is Lord Eversleigh now.”

I had been thinking of that. We must be careful. I was not sure that it would be good for a boy of eight to know that he had such a title.

I heard Sally Nullens refer to him as “my little lord,” and I discussed the matter with her.

“It’s better for him to get used to the idea gradually,” she said. “He’ll discover it sooner or later. Servants talk, you know, and you can’t stop them short of sealing up their lips. Boys will listen and there’s nothing will stop them short of plugging up their ears.”

Sally was wise with children, so I told Edwin what had happened. His grandfather, Lord Eversleigh, was dead and as his father, Lord Eversleigh’s son, was also dead, that meant that he, young Edwin, was now Lord Eversleigh.

“What shall I have to do?” he asked.

“Nothing that you didn’t do before,” I said. “Though you will have to be a little more thoughtful of others, a little more kind to people.”

“Why?”

“Noblesse oblige,” I replied, “which means that the nobly born must act nobly and that rank carries with it special obligations.”

“Well, I haven’t been born different, have I? Why should I have to change now?”

“It really shouldn’t be a change. You should have been kind and thoughtful before.”

Leigh, who had been listening, said: “Then I will have to be the same,” he supposed.

“You’re not a lord,” Edwin pointed out.

“I will be,” was Leigh’s retort. “I’ll be a bigger, better lord than you. You’ll see.”

Yes, I thought, he was indeed Harriet’s son.

We did not celebrate Christmas with any great festivities because we were in mourning. On the other hand we could not ignore it altogether because of the children. The carol singers came, and so did the mummers who did a morality play and another about Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, Little John and Maid Marian, which the boys loved. The Dollan family, who lived some ten miles away, rode over and joined us for Christmas Day. They had recently taken the Priory, the nearest big house, and they had come to offer condolences at the time of Lord Eversleigh’s death.

They were delightful people—Sir Henry and Lady Dollan, their three daughters and a son, Matthew. Matthew was a lively young man interested in politics and this meant that he and Carleton got on well together. They met in London occasionally and Matthew had taken to calling quite frequently on us.

I was particularly interested in Matthew because, although he was very good company, there was in him a gentle streak. I encouraged him to come often.

So passed Christmas Day. I fancied that we had managed rather cleverly in making a celebration for the children and at the same time not failing in our memory of Lord Eversleigh.

Before we retired that night, I looked in at the nursery as I always did. The boys were fast asleep, smiles of contentment on their faces. Priscilla in her cot was sleeping too. This was my darling’s first Christmas, but she had been unaware of it, naturally, at six months old. Next year, I thought, it will be different. Then she will be of an age to begin to take notice.

Sally Nullens came tiptoeing in from where she slept in the next room.

“Don’t wake them, mistress,” she said. “They’ve been up to tricks. Overmuch Christmas excitement … too much for Master Leigh and for his lordship too.”

I said good night and went to our bedroom where Carleton was waiting. He was in bed propped up with pillows.

He said: “Where have you been? Don’t tell me, I know. Drooling over your daughter, I have no doubt.”

“Your daughter too, sir,” I said.

“You will spoil that child.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It will be good for her when she has a few brothers.”

“She has Edwin and Leigh now.”

“I’ll swear they take little notice of her.”

“Oh, but they do. They love her.”

“Perhaps this time next year we’ll have a boy.”

“Why are men so set on sons? Is it because they so admire themselves that they are hoping to see themselves repeated?”

“That could be a very good reason.”

I was sitting at the mirror, brushing my hair. Carleton was silent watching me. I said: “It was a good Christmas Day considering the circumstances.”

“You found it so.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No. I thought you were far too interested in Matthew Dollan.”

“Of course I’m interested. He’s a very attractive young man.”

Carleton sprang and, picking me up, carried me over to the bed.

“I’d not tolerate any infidelities.”

“Carleton, you’re mad. Infidelities. With Matthew Dollan!”

“I’m warning you. And you’re laughing.”

“Of course, I’m laughing. I am not interested in Matthew Dollan other than as a friend.”

He bent over me, his lips on mine.

“You have been warned,” he said.

“Of what?” I asked.

“The dire fate which would befall you if ever you played me false.”

I laughed. He really loved me, I knew. Harriet had said he was reformed since he married. I had heard it said somewhere that reformed rakes make the best husbands.

That was a pleasant thought to go to sleep on on that Christmas Day. It meant that my marriage was turning out a great deal more satisfactorily than I thought it possibly could. Our relationship was changing. We still sparred and bantered, but our lovemaking was becoming more and more satisfying.

I believe, I thought, I am going to be happy.

In the New Year Carleton went to Whitehall. The King had sent for him. They were still excited about the Roman remains which the excavations following on the fire had disclosed. Carleton talked of them with great enthusiasm and I was becoming as interested as he was.

He wanted me to go with him and I was torn between going and leaving the children.

“What nonsense,” said Carleton impatiently. “As if old Nullens isn’t as good as any watchdog.”

“I know. But I hate to leave Priscilla.”

“What about me? You have no objection to leaving me!”

“It’s just that I should be worrying about them all the time.”

“And you don’t worry about what might be happening to me?”

I lifted my shoulders in exasperation.

“Husbands need to be looked after if they are going to be kept in good order,” he reminded me.

I was tempted to go and I should have gone if Edwin had not caught a chill the day before we were due to depart.

When I went to say good night to the children, Leigh and Priscilla were sleeping but Edwin was not in his bed. Sally came in and said: “I’ve moved his bed into my room. His coughing might disturb the others and I want to keep my eye on him.”

I was immediately concerned.

“Just a chill,” said Sally. “I’ve got a flannel on his chest and hot bricks wrapped in more flannel for his feet. I’ve also got some good cordial for him.”

I went and looked at my son. His face was flushed and his forehead far too hot.

“Hello, Mama,” he said. “You’re going to London to see the King.”

I knelt by his bed. “It won’t be for long.”

“How long?” he asked.

“A week perhaps.”

“Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday Monday,” he said.

Then he started to cough.

“You shouldn’t talk,” said Sally sharply. “I told you not to.”

“It was my fault,” I said. “Now try to sleep, my darling.”

“Will you come and see me before you go?” asked Edwin.

“Of course I will.” I bent and kissed him. He took my hand and clung to it. His fingers were burning.

I covered him up and when I went out Sally followed me.

“Now don’t you fret,” she said. “I’ll look after him. It’s just one of his colds.”

I nodded and went back to our room. While I prepared for bed Carleton talked excitedly about London and the Roman remains. He noticed my inattention and complained of it.

“I’m worried about Edwin,” I said.

“You are like an old hen with her chicks.”

“I am a mother,” I said.

“You are also a wife. Never neglect your husband for your children. That’s an old adage isn’t it, or it ought to be. Come to bed. Thank God tomorrow I shall lure you away from your domesticity.”

But in the morning Edwin was worse. Sally was anxious, I could see.

“Sally,” I said, “I’m going to stay.”

I could see her relief.

“It’s not just a cold, is it?”

“The fever still stays and he’s been talking excitedly and thinking he was riding his horse. I’ve sent one of the men for the doctor.”

I went back to Carleton. “You should be ready,” he said.

“I’m not going.”

He stared at me incredulously.

“What nonsense. Of course you are. The King expects you.”

“Edwin is very ill.”

“He has a slight chill.”

“It’s not slight. I’m staying here.”

For a few seconds we faced each other. He was angry. He didn’t believe Edwin was ill. I told myself that in his heart he had never liked Edwin. He resented him, I knew it. He had several reasons for resenting him. For a long time, before Toby had returned, he had stood between him and Eversleigh. Moreover he was my son, and he suspected that the boy reminded me of Edwin and that whatever ill I heard of him I would still harbour romantic thoughts about him. Carleton was a man who had to be first; he had to be the centre of everything, and that included my life. He wouldn’t even stand aside for his own daughter, but to do so for another man’s son infuriated him.

I knew Carleton. I was fully aware of his faults. I was not going to make the mistake of turning him into a model of virtue. That would be scarcely possible with a man like Carleton. He was virile, arrogant, essentially male and I enjoyed my marriage, which was because I was a woman who needed marriage. Physically we were well matched. I liked our encounters, even our verbal battles, which still persisted. We loved to score over each other. Perhaps that was not the way a wife should feel about her husband, but it was how I felt about Carleton.

My marriage was exciting rather than tender. I was sure he felt the same about me.

Now he was angry. He could not bear me to prefer anyone else, even my own children … particularly Edwin. He desperately wanted a son of his own. He was making that more and more clear.

Life with him was far from tranquil and now we were moving into a new storm.

“You are coming with me,” he said.

“No, Carleton, I am not coming. I will not leave Edwin. I have told Sally Nullens I am staying. She is relieved. That means Edwin is worse than he appears to be.”

For a moment I thought he was going to pick me up forcibly and ride off with me.

I was sure that was in his mind. Then he said abruptly: “Very well. Do as you please.”

And he went off.

He did not say good-bye.

I could not think much about Carleton because my concern was all for my son. The doctor had come and had found him suffering from a fever. He was to be kept warm and fed with broth. He would come again the next day.

In the afternoon Edwin went into a deep sleep and Sally said he should be left alone. We would look in on him from time to time and she had put a little bell under his pillow in case he should wake and need something.

After about fifteen minutes I crept into his room. Someone was standing at the foot of his bed, looking at him.

“Harriet,” I whispered.

She turned.

“He must not be disturbed while he sleeps,” I said and we tiptoed out.

“Poor Edwin,” she said. “He looks very sick.”

I said: “He will recover. The doctor says that we must keep him quiet. Sally is wonderful with children. She nursed his father through several illnesses. Matilda says she is the perfect nurse and doctor combined.”

She followed me to my room.

“Poor Arabella,” she said, “you look exhausted.”

“Naturally I’m worried. I didn’t sleep well all night. I was so anxious … wondering whether to go or stay.”

“So you let Carleton go off without you!” She shook her head. “Was that wise?”

“I could not have gone with him while Edwin was in this state. Why, I would never forgive myself if …”

“If?” She was looking at me, her eyes alight with speculation. I could see the thoughts chasing themselves in her head. She was trying to draw a veil over her eyes but she was not quite clever enough to do that. I knew what she was thinking. If Edwin died, Toby would be Lord Eversleigh. She would be Lady Eversleigh, she, the strolling player’s daughter!

“Edwin is going to recover,” I said fiercely.

“Of course he will. He’s a most healthy little boy. This is nothing. A childish ailment. Children have these things. They come close to death … and then and then …”

I turned away. I wanted to shout at her: Don’t stand there lying, pretending you want him to get well. You want him to die!

“You must take care of yourself, Arabella,” she said. “You’ll be ill yourself if you worry like this.”

I said: “I want to rest. Just for a short while. Sally will watch over him while I rest.”

I lay on my bed and she put the coverlet over me. Her face was close to mine, so beautiful, so compassionate, and yet there was a certain glitter in her eyes.

The door closed on her but I could not rest. I thought of her and Edwin together … I had had not an inkling. How clever they were! She had hoped to marry him herself.

Then I thought of the coldness in Carleton’s eyes when he turned away from me. He was very angry. He could not bear that anyone should come before himself.

But what did any of these things matter while my son was ill? I could not rest here. I rose and went back to Sally’s sick room. Edwin was still sleeping. My entrance awakened Sally, and the two of us sat there listening for any sound from the sick child.

Through the night Sally and I sat beside him. He was quietly lying on his bed and every now and then we would hear his heavy breathing. I sat listening in terror that it might stop.

Sally rocked herself silently to and fro.

I whispered: “Sally, I smell something. Is it garlic?”

She nodded. “There by the fire, mistress.”

“You put it there?”

She nodded again. “It keeps evil away. We always have used it.”

“Evil?”

“Witches and the like.”

“You think …”

“Mistress, I don’t know what I think. ’Cept that ’tis as well to be safe.”

I was silent for a while. Then I said: “He’s breathing better now.”

“I noticed he were better when I brought the garlic in.”

“Oh, Sally, tell me what’s in your mind. Is there anything in this house that could harm him?”

“I’m not saying it is so, mistress, and then again I’m not saying ’tis not. ’Tis only that I would be on the side of safety.”

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “Could it really be so?”

“The garlic keeps evil away. They don’t like it. There’s something in it that upsets ’em. I don’t like what’s in this house, mistress.”

“Sally, tell me everything. If there is something threatening my son, I must know.”

“There’s some I wouldn’t trust, mistress.”

No, I thought. Nor I.

“This little one,” she went on, “to be a lord … to own all this, for that is how it is. He lost his father who would have had it first, and then by the time our little one came into it, he would have been a man. That would have been natural and easy. But when a little child has all this … It has been so with kings, I believe. I’m not clever and know nothing of these matters, but ’tis human nature, that’s all, and I reckon I know a bit about that.”

“Has something happened?”

“There was one I found in here … looking at him as he lay in his bed.”

“I saw someone too.”

“I reckon it was the same one.”

“What did she come for?”

“She said she was anxious about you. She knew how worried you were and she was sure the child had only a cold. She went out soon when I came in, and I thought what benefit it could be to her if …”

“You suspect … witchcraft?”

“It’s always been in the world and I reckon should be watched for. But we’ll guard him. We’ll save him from whatever be threatening him. We’ll do it, mistress, together. Witchcraft can’t stand against good pure love. That I do know.”

At any other time I should have laughed her to scorn. But it is different when a loved one is concerned. By daylight I could be bold and laugh at stories of ghosts and evil influences, but by night I could fear them. Thus it was. My child in possible danger and I could not turn skeptically away from that.

Sally believed in witchcraft. Moreover, she was suggesting there might be a witch in our house.

Harriet. Standing at the bed, the glitter in her eyes seeing a title within her reach but my son standing in her way.

I remembered what I had read in the diaries of my great-grandmother Linnet Casvellyn who had let a strange woman into her house—a witch from the sea.

It could happen. I would not leave Edwin again until he was well. I would not allow Harriet to step across the threshold of this room.

All through that night Sally and I sat in her room and at Edwin’s slightest whimper we were at his bedside. Halfway through the night his breathing was easier. And in the morning his fever had gone.

I could smell the garlic in the grate. I looked at Sally’s simple, loving face and I embraced her.

“He is going to get well,” I said. “Oh, Sally, Sally, what can I say to you?”

“We pulled him through, mistress. Together we pulled him through. No harm shall come to our little lord while we are close.”

Edwin was well on the way to recovery by the time Carleton returned, angry still because of what he called my defection.

“I told you so,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with that boy except too much pampering. I’m going to get to work on him as soon as he’s completely fit.”

I was so happy in my son’s recovery that I wanted to celebrate it and Carleton’s return together. Harriet said she would sing and dance for the company and perhaps we could get everyone to join in the dance. The boys would enjoy that.

Carleton was amused, but I noticed that his attitude had changed since his return. He had not forgiven me for staying behind, and our relationship was more as it had been before our marriage. He seemed critical of me and tried to make me so with him—which did not need a great deal of effort on his behalf. I missed a certain tenderness in his lovemaking. He was as fiercely passionate and demanding as ever and talked even more frequently of his desire for another child—a boy this time—and I accused him of a lack of interest in Priscilla.

“For the child’s sake,” he retorted. “If she had two parents treating her as if she is the only creature of any importance in the world, she’d grow up to be insufferable.”

“A little too like her father perhaps,” was my retort.

So we sparred during the day and made love at night. It was exciting but vaguely disturbing. I knew that he really was angry. He is the most arrogant, self-centred man in the world, I thought. And I was a little angry with myself for caring for him in the way I did. But I could not help my nature, I supposed, and any more than he could his.

At supper one night soon after his return, he talked about his stay in London.

“It’s like a breath of life to get up there,” he said. “One gets stultified in the country. I must go more often.” He was looking at me, implying: And you should come with me, and if your children are more important than your husband, take the consequences! He went on to talk of the new plans for rebuilding the city in which the King was greatly interested. Carleton had met Christopher Wren, who had brought out a plan for rebuilding the city which would make people see the great fire of London almost as a blessing.

Of course, it would be very costly and great sums of money would be needed, he explained. “It seems unlikely that these will be raised, but the building must start at once so it will doubtless be done piecemeal.” Carleton was eulogistic about Christopher Wren.

“A genius,” he said. “And a happy man. He knows he won’t be able to build what he wants, but he’ll settle for second best. He has plans for a cathedral and about fifty parish churches. We shan’t recognize the old city but what a grand place it will be when he has finished it. Moreover it’ll be healthier. Those wooden buildings huddled together, those filthy gutters … With our new London we shan’t have epidemics every few years, I promise you.”

He was quite clearly exhilarated by his visit to London and that seemed to make him all the more angry with me for refusing to share it with him.

As we sat round the table he discussed the prevailing scandals. Everyone was now talking about the Duke of Buckingham’s affair with Lady Shrewsbury and his duel with her husband.

“Buckingham may well be accused of murder,” said Carleton.

“Serve him right,” said Matilda. “People should not fight duels. It’s a stupid way of settling a quarrel.”

“They say it was a great love affair between Buckingham and Shrewsbury’s wife,” said Charlotte.

“She has been his mistress,” Carleton put in. “That has been common knowledge for a long time and Shrewsbury, like a self-respecting husband, challenged Buckingham to a duel.”

Harriet smiled at Uncle Toby. “Would you do that, my darling, if I took a lover?”

Uncle Toby almost choked with laughter. “I would indeed, my love.”

“Just like my Lord Shrewsbury,” cried Harriet, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

“I hope,” went on Carleton looking steadily at her, “that you would not behave like Lady Shrewsbury. That lady dressed herself as a page and held Buckingham’s horse while the duel took place, and as soon as it was over and Shrewsbury mortally wounded, the lovers went to an inn and Buckingham made love to her dressed as he was in his bloodstained clothes.”

“An act of defiance against morality,” I said.

“Trust you to discover that,” said Carleton half mocking, half admiring.

“And what is going to happen to these wicked people?” asked Matilda.

“Shrewsbury is dying, and Buckingham is living openly with Lady Shrewsbury. The King has expressed his displeasure but has forgiven Buckingham. He is such an amusing fellow, and in any case Charles is too much of a realist to condemn others for what he practises so assiduously himself.”

“Not duelling,” said Charlotte.

“No, adultery,” added Carleton. “Charles hates killing. He thinks Shrewsbury was a fool. He should have accepted the fact that his wife preferred Buckingham and left it at that.”

“Kings set the fashion at courts,” said Charlotte. “How different from Cromwell.”

“One extreme will always follow another,” pointed out Carleton. “If the Puritans had not been so severe, those who followed might not have been so lax.”

“Oh, dear,” sighed Matilda, “what a pity things can’t be as they were before the war and all these troubles arose.”

“It’s the perpetual sighing for the old days, I fear,” said Carleton. “They seem so good looking back. It’s a disease called nostalgia. It affects quite a lot of us.”

He was looking at me, resenting the happiness I had had with Edwin, believing that in spite of what I had discovered I still remembered it.

The celebration took place shortly after that conversation. It began as a happy occasion and almost ended in disaster. For several days they had been preparing for it in the kitchens and our table was a credit to the servants. We had the family and the Dollans and the Cleavers and another family who came from a few miles away. The two boys were with us and everyone was complimenting me on Edwin’s healthy looks and saying that there could be little wrong with a boy who could recover so quickly from a virulent fever.

Harriet somehow managed to make herself the centre of attraction just as she had in the old days. She sang for us, and as she sat there strumming her lute with her lovely hair falling over her shoulders, my mind went right back to the days in Congrève when she had seemed to me like a goddess from another world.

That she seemed just that to Uncle Toby was obvious. He was so proud of her, so much in love, and it occurred to me that even if she had contrived to marry him for what she could get, at least she had made him happy.

I was pleased too that Matthew Dollan was there, and Charlotte, too. Charlotte seemed to be quite happy, although she could not rid herself of that suspicious attitude which seemed to say, I know you’re only being pleasant to me because it’s polite to be so.

When the children had gone to bed we went to the ballroom which had been made ready for dancing, and there the musicians played and we were very merry.

As Carleton led me into the dance, he asked if I felt it was an occasion worthy of the reason for having it.

“I think it goes well,” I said.

“A thanksgiving because our young Edwin was snatched from the gates of death?”

I shivered.

“What a fond and foolish mother you are, Arabella! The boy is completely healthy. You should be thanking the fates for my return to you, not his from the aforementioned gates.”

“It is to celebrate two happy events.”

“So you are glad to have me back?”

“Have I not made that clear?”

“On occasions,” he said. “I say, look at Toby.”

I looked. He was dancing with Harriet. His face was overred I thought and his breaking a little short.

“He drank too much wine,” I said.

“Not unusual, I’m afraid.”

“Harriet shouldn’t let him exert himself like that. Will you speak to her?”

“I will. When the dance is over.”

But that was to prove too late, for there was a sudden cry, and a hushed silence. I looked round. Toby was on the floor and Harriet was kneeling beside him.

Carleton rushed over and examined his uncle. “He is breathing,” he said. “We must get him to his room. Arabella, send them for the doctor.”

That was the end of the dance. Toby was carried up to his room and in due course the doctor came and told us that Toby had had a heart attack. It was due, it seemed, to overexerting himself. I sat with Harriet at his bedside. She was very subdued. There was anxiety in her face and I knew that she was thinking of what her position would be if Uncle Toby died.

He did not die. In a few days it was clear that he would recover. The doctor said that he had had a warning. He had overexerted himself and must, in future, remember his age. He must go very carefully now.

“I shall insist,” said Harriet. “I am going to look after you, my darling.”

It was pathetic to see the way in which he relied on her, and I have to say that she nursed him well.

Carleton said: “It’s probably a good thing that it happened. It’s brought home to him the fact that he’s not the young man he has been thinking he was.”

Spring came. Edwin was himself again and Sally’s theories about witchcraft seemed ridiculous. The boys were very fond of Harriet and she seemed to be a model wife to Toby. She was soon exerting the old fascination over Edwin and Leigh as she had over my brothers and sister. She was always singing and acting for them and they enjoyed being in her company.

Uncle Toby’s eyes followed her wherever she was. “What a mother she would make,” he said.

Although I suspected her motives for marrying him, I must say that she made him happy. She was never irritable or bad tempered with him. She always called him “my darling husband” and to him she was always “my love.” He put such a wealth of feeling into the endearment that it was never used lightly, as in some cases.

Carleton had turned his attention to Edwin. He accused me of pampering him and said it was time someone took him in hand. I was a little afraid at first. I thought that he was going to wreak his resentment on my son. It occurred to me that I didn’t really know about Carleton everything a wife should know of her husband. I knew that he was strongly drawn to me; I knew that he desired me and that desire had not yet abated with familiarity. But sometimes I felt he wanted to be revenged on me. He had a strange, wild nature.

However I could not stop his supervising the outdoor education of my son, and as Leigh was with him, I supposed that it really was good for Edwin to have a man to teach him. I myself was giving them lessons and Harriet insisted on helping me. It reminded me so much of the old days at Congrève. There was a great deal of acting in the schoolroom and of course the boys loved that.

It was Carleton who said that we should have a tutor for the boys. They could not be taught forever by two women. “Besides,” he said, “I can see you making excuses that you have your schoolroom duties when I want you to come with me to London.”

It was like Carleton to act immediately, and within a few weeks of his announcing that the boys should have a tutor, Gregory Stevens arrived.

Gregory was an extremely good-looking young man, the second son of a titled family and therefore without great means but with some expectations. He was an excellent sportsman and as he was something of a scholar and interested in young people, he had decided to become a tutor for a while until those expectations were realized. Carleton said he possessed all the necessary qualifications for teaching the boys, and he was right. Gregory was strict, but he won the boys’ respect and it seemed a very good arrangement.

Harriet still insisted on going to the schoolroom to tell the boys about plays and act for them. Although Gregory Stevens had thought this unnecessary at first, he was soon agreeing that Harriet’s special knowledge and her ability to interest the boys in the literature of the day and of the past was beneficial.

Carleton was teaching them riding, shooting, falconry and fencing. Gregory Stevens helped in this and my misgivings faded when I heard the shouts of triumph when one of them scored and listened to their excited chatter. I knew that Carleton was right and I must not be so afraid of Edwin’s hurting himself that I might curb his mastery of these manly activities.

I spent a great deal of time with my daughter who was now developing a personality of her own and was a little wilful I must admit, which I said must be expected with such a father. I was angry with Carleton because he expressed so little interest in her and I determined to shower her with extra love in case she should notice her father’s neglect.

In the early spring I became pregnant again. Carleton was beside himself with joy. He was so certain that this time I was going to provide a child of the right sex. It worried me—this obsession for a boy.

He could scarcely talk of anything else. He was so tender and careful of me that I could not help enjoying that, but sometimes I was filled with misgivings.

I said to him: “What if this child should be a girl?”

“It won’t be,” he said firmly, as though he could arrange these matters. “I know I’m going to have a son this time.”

“It’s absurd,” I said. “You have a beautiful daughter and you hardly notice her.”

“You’re going to give me my son, Arabella. I knew you would from the moment I saw you.”

I began to feel apprehensive. Sally Nullens noticed it. “It’s bad for you,” she said. “Give over. Just sit back in peace and wait.”

I wished I could.

Harriet came to the bedroom often when I was alone. She liked to sit and watch me sewing a baby garment. I took a great pleasure in doing this although I was no needlewoman.

“Carleton is beside himself with joy,” said Harriet. She watched me anxiously. “You’re worried, Arabella.”

“I just want this to be over. I want to be lying in that bed with my son in his cradle beside me.”

“He is going to put Madame Priscilla’s nose out of joint.”

“No one could change my feelings for her,” I said.

“Of course not. You’re the perfect mother. Oh, Arabella, what a lot has happened to us since the old days. We are both mothers … both Eversleighs. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“That we are both Eversleighs? It did not come about without a certain contrivance.”

“That old theme! Why should it not have been contrived? Was Toby ever as happy as he is now?”

“That’s true. But being married to you must put a certain strain on him. It obviously has.”

“You mean his heart attack. I’m very careful of him, Arabella. I’m fond of him. Oh, yes, I am. Besides, what would my position be if he were to die?”

“Your home would still be here.”

“I suppose so. But the old lady doesn’t like me. Charlotte hates me. Carleton …” She laughed. “See I only have you, and you are sometimes suspicious of me. Now if I was the one who was pregnant … If I was the one who was going to have a son. Has it occurred to you that if I did, my son would be next in line to your Edwin? He’d come before this son you may … or may not have.”

There was a silence in the room. I had the sudden uneasy feeling that we were not alone.

I turned and looked over my shoulder.

Sally Nullens was standing there. She was holding a cup in her hand.

“I’ve brought you this,” she said to me. “Good, strengthening broth. Just what you need.”

It was later that night, after midnight I saw later when I was able to take note of the time. Carleton and I were asleep when we were awakened by a shout. We started up, and by the waving candlelight I made out the figure of Harriet.

“Arabella. Carleton. Come quickly,” she cried. “It’s Toby.”

We jumped out of bed, threw wraps around us and ran to the room which Toby and Harriet shared. Toby was lying in bed, his face ashen, his eyes wild.

Carleton went to him and took his wrist. Then he put his ear to his chest.

I knew as he turned that Toby was very ill.

“Shall I send for the doctor?” asked Harriet.

“Yes,” said Carleton.

She ran out of the room.

“Carleton,” I said, “is there anything we can do?”

“Get some brandy. But I’m afraid …”

I went to a sideboard and poured out some brandy. It had been kept in the room since Toby had had his first attack. Carleton lifted him and tried to pour the brandy into his mouth. It fell over his chin.

“It’s too late,” murmured Carleton. “I feared it.”

Harriet came back into the room.

“I’ve sent one of the men,” she said. “Oh, God, he looks … awful.”

“It may be too late,” said Carleton.

“No …” she whispered.

She went to stand on the other side of the bed. Carleton had gently lowered Toby down onto the pillows. We stood in silence looking at him.

Then Harriet spoke: “If only that doctor would come. How long he is!”

“The man has only just left,” Carleton reminded her. “He will be an hour at least.”

Then the silence fell again. I stood at the head of the bed—Harriet on one side of it, Carleton on the other.

Then there was a sudden gasp from behind us. Charlotte had come into the room.

“I heard running about. What’s happened?”

“He’s had an attack,” said Carleton.

“Is it … bad?”

“Very bad, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, poor, poor Uncle Toby.”

Silence again. I could hear the clock on the mantelpiece ticking. It sounded ominous.

We stood like statues round that bed. I was deeply aware of Charlotte. There was a kind of knowing look in her eyes.

Nonsense, I said. You’re overwrought. It’s your condition.

It struck me that we were like a tableau … full of meaning which I could only vaguely realize.

They were somber days that followed. “Two deaths coming so suddenly one on another,” mourned Matilda. “Oh, how I hate death. He was so content. So much in love.”

“Perhaps that was why,” said Charlotte.

I saw a shiver run through Matilda. Then she said: “He forgot he was an old man. It happens like that sometimes.”

“At least,” I reminded them, “he was happy. For the last year or so he was living in a kind of paradise.”

“What kind?” asked Charlotte. “A fool’s paradise.”

Of course she hated Harriet and had always resented the way in which she had been brought into the family.

There was another one who hated Harriet and that was Sally Nullens. But perhaps she feared rather than hated her. She mourned Toby sincerely. She had remembered him before he went away. “He always believed the best of everyone,” she said with meaning.

Poison in the Marriage Cup

I BEGAN TO FEEL unwell. The months of waiting seemed longer than they had when I was awaiting the birth of Priscilla. I think I was obsessed by the fear that I might not have a son.

That made me resentful towards Carleton. It was so stupid to blame a woman because the sex of her child was not what her husband hoped for. Kings had done it in the past. I thought of Anne Boleyn and all that had happened through her failing to get a son and how she must have felt during the long waiting months, the outcome of which would decide her future. The reverberations of that affair had affected my ancestress Damask Farland and her family. It was unfair, so arrogant, so typical of a certain kind of man. Henry VIII’s kind. Carleton’s kind.

Our own King Charles could not get a legitimate son, although he had several boy bastards. I wondered how his gentle Queen felt about her inadequacy. Perhaps she was not so anxious as I was. Charles might be a blatantly unfaithful husband but by all accounts he was a kindly one.

It was a hot summer’s day when it happened. I had four more months to go before the expected birth of my child and I was in the garden with Priscilla. I could hear the boys at the shooting butts just behind the lawn. Every now and then I would hear a shot, then a whoop of delight or perhaps a groan. They were happy. That much was certain. Edwin was really enjoying the discipline imposed by Carleton and I was rather gratified to notice that he had a great respect for him. He did not love him; he was too much in awe of him for that, but he certainly looked up to him with a kind of reverence. I was pleased at this, and I knew Carleton relished it. I hoped it would make them feel closer together.

I was thinking of this and had not noticed that Priscilla had toddled away. She had an exploring nature and was constantly attempting to evade supervision. Looking up suddenly I saw to my horror that she was making towards the shooting butts.

Horrified, I sprang up and ran towards her, calling her name. She seemed to think it was some sort of game, for she increased her speed. I could hear her chuckling to herself. Then I caught the heel of my shoe in a gnarled root and fell.

I was panic-stricken and in sudden pain. I called, “Priscilla, Priscilla,” and tried hard to rise. “Come back. Come back.”

I stood up and fell again.

Then I saw Carleton coming towards me. He was carrying Priscilla.

When he saw me, he put her down and ran towards me.

“What happened?”

“I was afraid … She was running towards the butts. I … I fell.”

He lifted me up in his arms and carried me into the house.

I heard him shout to one of the servants: “Send for the doctor … at once.”

I lay on my bed. The room was darkened, for they had drawn the curtains across them to shut out the light. I was tired and dispirited though the pain had passed.

I believe I had been very ill.

Sally Nullens came into the room.

“Ah, awake then.” She was standing over me with the inevitable bowl of broth.

“Oh, Sally,” I said.

“You’ll be all right, mistress,” she said. “My word, Master Edwin has been in a fine state. I’ve not been able to quieten him. I can tell him now, though, that you’re on the mend.”

“I’ve lost the baby,” I said.

“There’ll be other babies,” she answered. “Praise God, we didn’t lose you.”

“Was I so bad, then?”

“Don’t do you much good talking. Take this. It’ll put life into you.”

So I took it. She watched me. She said: “I’ll bring them in to see you before they go to bed. The three of them. I’ve promised them, you see.”

She brought them in. Edwin flew at me and hugged me so tightly that Sally protested.

“Do you want to strangle your mama, young man?”

Leigh tried to push him aside. “Me too,” he said.

Priscilla was crying because she was being left out.

I smiled happily at them.

Whatever happened I had them.

Carleton came and sat by my bed. Poor Carleton, how disappointed he was!

“I’m sorry,” I said stretching out a hand. He took it and kissed it.

“Never mind, Arabella. There’ll be another time.”

“There must be. I shall not rest until you have your son.”

“There has to be a rest after this … a year at least, they tell me. Perhaps two.”

“You mean before we have a child?”

He nodded.

“At least,” he said, “you’ve come through. You’ve been very ill, you know. If only you hadn’t … But what’s the good?”

“I was terrified.”

“I know. Priscilla!” He said the name almost angrily.

“I thought she would get into the shooting range and …”

“Don’t fret about it. She didn’t. In any case I should have seen her and stopped the firing.”

“Oh, Carleton, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say it like that. As though I’m some … monster …”

“You are,” I said with a return of my old spirit.

He bent down and kissed me. “Get well, quickly, Arabella,” he murmured.

Matilda came.

“Oh, my dear, dear child, how wonderful that you can now have visitors. I have been beside myself with fear. It was so dreadful … my dear husband, Toby … and then you. It was as though there was some evil spell on the house. …”

She stopped. I noticed that Sally was in the room.

“It was just an unfortunate chain of circumstances,” I said. “Let’s hope this is the end of our troubles.”

“It must be because you are well again. Sally tells me that you are picking up very quickly. That’s so, eh, Sally?”

“I know how to treat her, milady. I’m going to have her on her feet before the week’s out. You’ll see. …”

“I’ve always trusted you, Sally. Ah, Charlotte.”

Charlotte had come into the room.

“Charlotte, see how well Arabella is looking,” went on Matilda. “Almost her old self, don’t you think?”

“You look much better,” said Charlotte. “I am so glad and very sorry that it happened.”

“It was an unfortunate accident.” I said. “I should have been more careful.”

“Yes,” said Charlotte quietly.

“Do sit down, Charlotte,” said her mother. “You look so awkward standing there.”

Charlotte meekly sat and we talked for a while of the children. Poor Edwin had been heartbroken. Having been introduced to death through his grandfather and Uncle Toby, he had feared that I was going to die.

“It was hard to comfort him,” said Charlotte. “Leigh could do it better than anyone. How close those two boys have become.”

We talked of Priscilla and how bright she was. She too had missed me and kept saying my name and crying for me.

“So you see how glad everyone is that you are getting well,” said Matilda.

Then Sally came and said that I ought not to tire myself and she thought I had talked enough for a while.

So they went out and left me alone with my thoughts. I could not stop thinking of Carleton’s disappointment, and I wondered how deeply he blamed me … and perhaps Priscilla … for what had happened.

It was two days later when Harriet came to see me. I was much stronger then, sitting up and even taking an occasional walk round the room.

“We must not go too fast,” Sally ordered, and she was undoubtedly mistress of the sickroom.

I had insisted that she take a rest that afternoon, for I knew how tired nursing me made her, for she insisted on keeping her eye on the children as well, and she was lying down. I guess that that was why Harriet had chosen this time to come.

She tiptoed into the room, her lovely eyes alight with a kind of mischief.

“The dragon is sleeping,” she said in a dramatic voice. “Do you know she has been breathing fire at me every time I approached.”

“So you came before?”

“Of course I came. You don’t think I would stay away when you were ill, do you?”

Her presence made me feel alive again. She exuded vitality. I was pleased to see her.

“You don’t look as though you’re dying,” she said.

“I am not,” I answered.

“You had us all very worried, I can tell you.”

“I feel so angry with myself. After all that waiting … it is gone.”

“You mustn’t fret. That’s bad for you. You must be thankful that you were not taken away from your beloved family. Edwin was distrait.”

“I know, they told me. He is a dear boy.”

“So devoted to his mama and so he should be. So should we all. Arabella … I haven’t told anyone yet. I want you to be the first to know. It’s wonderful really. It’s made me feel happy again. I did love Toby. I know you doubted my feelings. You’ve never really forgiven me for Edwin, have you?”

“Oh, that … It’s so long ago.”

“I know your nature. You forgive but you can’t forget. You’ll never quite trust me again, will you?”

“Perhaps not.”

“I’m going to make you. I’m so fond of you, Arabella. That makes you smile. You think I couldn’t do what I did and be fond of you. I could. What happened between me and Edwin was outside friendship. Those things always are. The attraction arises quite suddenly sometimes and it’s irresistible. One forgets everything but the need to satisfy it. When it’s over, the rest of one’s life slips back into shape and it’s just as it was before. …”

I shook my head. “Let’s not discuss it. We shall never agree.”

“I was brought up so differently from you, Arabella. I always had to fight. It’s become natural with me. I fight for what I want and take it and then consider the cost. But I didn’t come to say all this. It’s just that when I’m with you, I feel I have to justify myself. Arabella, I am going to have a child.”

“Harriet! Is that possible?”

“Obviously. Toby wasn’t all that old, you know.”

“I can see you’re happy.”

“It’s what I need. Don’t you see? You, of all people. Didn’t it happen to you? Think back. Your husband died suddenly and afterwards you found you were going to have a child. That is how it is with me. Come, rejoice with me. I feel like singing the Magnificat.”

“When …?”

“Six months from now.”

She came to me and put her arms round me. “It makes all the difference. I shall stay here. I have a right to now. I had before, but a double right now. Old Matilda was hoping I’d go. So was Charlotte, and as for your Sally, she looks at me as though I’m the Devil incarnate. But I don’t care. I’m going to have a child. A little Eversleigh. Think of that. My own child.”

“You won’t go away and leave this one, I hope,” I said coolly, but I was beginning to succumb to the old charm.

She laughed. “Your tongue’s getting sharp again, Arabella. You get so much practice with Carleton.”

“Is it so noticeable?”

“Perhaps. But no doubt he enjoys it. Now about this baby …”

“You say you haven’t told anyone?”

“I was determined that you should be the first.”

“If only Uncle Toby had known, how delighted he would have been.”

Her eyes were a trifle misty. “Dear Toby,” she said. I was moved, and then I wondered if she was still playing a part.

The news of Harriet’s expectations astounded the household, and for a few days it was whispered that she must have imagined this was so. But as the weeks passed it became obvious that she was not mistaken.

She was quite smug, and clearly enjoying her position. She behaved as though it was a great joke and in some way she had scored over us all.

Carleton was shaken. I could see that.

“If this is a boy,” he said, “he will be next in line to Edwin.”

“Not when Edwin marries and has a son of his own.”

“A good many years will have to pass before that.”

“I wish you would stop talking of Edwin as though his days are numbered.”

“Sorry. I was merely thinking …”

“Of the line of succession. Really one would think Eversleigh was the throne.”

He brooded on it, I know. I often saw him watch Harriet with an odd speculation in his eyes.

There was a good deal of friction between us. Life had not been smooth since my miscarriage. He seemed resentful of my love for Priscilla and of course Edwin. Although I could understand a certain jealously of Edwin, it seemed incredible that a man could blame his own daughter because of the loss of a possible son.

Carleton was unnatural, I told him. He was obsessed by his desire for a son. I knew, I said, that this was a common desire among a certain type of man but Carleton carried it to extreme. He was away a good deal. He went to Whitehall and I knew was prominent in Court circles. I often wondered about his life there. I used to worry about the weakening of our feelings for each other and I told myself it was inevitable. I knew I was in some ways to blame, and yet I longed for him to come back and to be to me what he had been in the beginning. But had he really been as I imagined him? There had been a violent passion between us, but was that the foundation on which to build a lifetime’s happiness? Perhaps I was wrong. I had always harked back to that glorious time with Edwin—which had been entirely false. Because of it I had been determined not be duped again. Had that made me hard, suspicious?

Life seemed to have become unreal during the months that followed. Harriet was the only one who was content. She went about hugging her secret joy, and in the way I remembered so well she began to dominate the household.

She would get us all together to sing ballads in the evening—myself, Charlotte, Gregory Stevens and often Matthew Dollan, who was constantly riding over. Charlotte was aloof with him, as though she knew that I hoped they might be attracted and was determined to foil me.

Harriet would tell stories of her life as a player and her audience would be tense with excitement. She certainly was a true Scheherazade, for she had a trick of stopping at an exciting point and saying: “No more now. My voice is going. I have to protect it, you know.”

Edwin and Leigh would creep in and listen. They thought her enchanting and she made a special point of charming them. Even Priscilla would toddle up and watch her wonderingly while she sang or talked.

Anxious as I was about my relationship with Carleton, saddened by the fact that I was not the one who was expecting a child, I allowed myself to be drawn into her spell and I would find myself excited by her as the others were.

Through the winter months she grew larger but nonetheless beautiful. There was a wonderful serenity about her which added to her beauty.

Even Sally Nullens was excited by the prospect of a new baby in the nursery.

I said to her one day: “Sally, you’re longing for this baby, I know.”

“Oh I can never resist them,” she admitted. “There’s nothing as beautiful as a helpless little baby to my mind.”

“Even Harriet’s?” I said.

“Whatever else she is,” answered Sally, “she’s a mother.”

I had not noticed that Charlotte had come into the room. She was so self-effacing. She seemed to want not to be noticed.

“Do you think she will have an easy confinement?” I asked.

“Her!” cried Sally, her eyes flashing suddenly. “With her it will be like shelling peas. It is with her sort. …”

“Her sort …” I said.

“There’s something about her,” said Sally quietly. “I’ve always known it. They say witches have special powers.”

“Sally, you’re not suggesting Harriet is a witch?” murmured Charlotte.

Sally said: “I’m saying nothing.”

“You just have,” I reminded her.

“I can only say what I feel. There’s something … some special powers … I don’t know what it is. Some call it witchcraft. I don’t like it and I never will.”

“Oh, Sally, what nonsense. She’s just a healthy and attractive woman …”

“Who knows how to get what she wants.”

Charlotte and I exchanged glances which implied that we shouldn’t take old Sally too seriously.

It was February when Harriet gave birth to her child, and as Sally had predicted it was an easy birth. She had a son and I must admit I felt a twinge of envy.

It was a week or so after the birth of the child, whom she had christened Benjamin, when Carleton came home.

He embraced me warmly and I felt a sudden thrill of happiness. I determined that in time, when I had recovered from this lassitude which had been with me since my miscarriage, I also would have a son.

Carleton noticed at once. “You’re better,” he said. And swung me up and held me against him.

“I’m glad you are home,” I said.

We walked into the house arm in arm. I said to him: “We have an addition to the household. Harriet’s child has arrived.”

He was silent for a moment and I went on: “It’s a son. Trust Harriet to have a son.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, “trust Harriet.”

I went with him to her room to see him. She was in bed; her Benjie was in his cradle and Sally hovered.

Harriet held out her hand to Carleton. He took it and it seemed to me that he held it for a long time.

She withdrew it and said: “Sally, give me Benjie. I want to show him off. I tell you this, Carleton, he is the most beautiful baby in the world. Sally will bear me out.”

She sat there. How beautiful she was, with her magnificent hair falling about her shoulders, her face serenely happy, her lovely eyes soft as I had rarely seen them.

I was deeply aware of Carleton. He was watching her intently. I thought again it was like one of those tableaux, full of meaning.

Benjie thrived. Sally said she had never seen a baby with a finer pair of lungs. When he bellowed, Priscilla watched him in wonder. He showed a determination to get what he wanted from his earliest days. He was beautiful with big blue eyes and dark tufts of hair. Priscilla liked to stand and watch Sally bathe him and to hand her the towels.

I had never seen Harriet so contented before. Her maternal instincts surprised me, but I told myself cynically that she loved her baby partly because he consolidated her position here. Of course as Toby’s widow she had a right to be in the house, but the fact that she had borne one of the heirs to lands and title made her position doubly assured.

But even so I was aware of growing tension all about me. I fancied that Harriet was alert, that she was engaged in some secret adventures. Perhaps it was my imagination, I told myself. Perhaps I could never really forget.

I sometimes wandered to the edge of the gardens to the arbour in which Edwin had died. It was such a gloomy place, and the shrubs about it were becoming more overgrown than ever. It looked eerie, ghostly, as the scene of a tragedy can become when people hate to go there and build up legends about it.

Chastity had let out that the servants said it was haunted. Haunted, I thought, by Edwin. Edwin who had been cut off suddenly with his sins upon him, caught in the act by Old Jethro the reformer. I wondered what Harriet felt when she went past it. She had participated in that death scene and must remember, but she never said anything when the arbour was mentioned. Harriet, I believed, was the sort of woman who in an adventuring life put unpleasant events right out of her memory.

For the last few months there had been complaints about the pigeons and the damage they were doing to the fabric of Eversleigh Court, and the grooms and menservants were constantly taking potshots at them. Ellen said that everyone in the neighbourhood was getting tired of pigeon pie and pigeon stews, or roast pigeon and pigeon cooked in pots.

“I tell them,” she said, “they should be glad of good food whatever it is.”

Carleton had said the boys might shoot at them. A moving target would give them good practice. I often heard them boasting together of the number they had shot. Then they would take them along to the cottage people.

It was one summer day. I was in the garden picking roses and I thought suddenly of another occasion when I had been similarly engaged and when Carleton had come upon me there and how we had talked and bantered and he had asked me to marry him.

The scene of the roses brought back memories of that day vividly and the excitement I felt even though I had pretended not to want him. Then I went on to think of our marriage and the sudden awakening of what was new and exciting in our relationship. What had happened to that now? Perhaps it was impossible to keep passion at such fever heat. Perhaps there had been nothing deeper than that. I kept comparing my relationship with Carleton to that which I had shared with Edwin. How romantic my first marriage had seemed, how perfect! And how foolish of me to think it was so! It has been a sham from the beginning. And yet I could not forget it. It had done something to me. People were affected by experiences, naturally. They became warped and suspicious. That was how I had become with Carleton.

The scent of roses, the heat of the sun on my hands, the buzzing of bees, and memories carried on the warm summer air … and then suddenly … it happened. I was not sure what it was. Except that I fell towards the rosebush and the sky began to recede further and further away. I had put my hand to my sleeve and touched something warm and sticky … I was aware of looking at my hands … They were as red as the roses in my basket. I was lying against the rosebush, slipping silently into the grass. It seemed to take a long time and then there was nothing.

I was in someone’s arms being carried. Carleton. I heard a child’s voice screaming: “I didn’t do it. I didn’t. I didn’t.” Vaguely I thought: That is Leigh. Then a voice—Jasper’s. “You godless imp. You’ve killed the mistress.”

After that the darkness was complete.

I was aware of Carleton all the time. Carleton talking, Carleton bending over me, Carleton angry. “How could this have happened? By God, I’m going to find out …” Carleton tender. “Arabella, my darling, darling Arabella …”

And awakening suddenly, a small figure at my bedside. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t. I didn’t. It came right over my head. It did. It did.”

The light was dim. I opened my eyes.

“Leigh,” I said. “Little Leigh?”

A hot hand seeking my free one. I seemed to have lost the other.

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t. I didn’t.”

Then: “Come away, Leigh.” That was Sally’s voice, gentle, understanding. “She knows you didn’t.”

“Leigh,” I said. “I know.”

Sally said softly: “Poor mite. Brokenhearted he is. They think it was him taking potshots at the pigeons.”

I knew then that I had been shot. As I had put up my hand to pluck the red roses the pellets had entered my arm.

The doctor had removed the pellets. They had been deeply imbedded it seemed, and that was why I had been so ill.

It was a blessing, they said, that they had struck me in the arm.

Carleton was often at my bedside and I felt a great comfort to see him there.

It was three days before he told me. Then I had recovered from the fever which the operation of taking the pellets away had caused.

“I shall never forget it,” he said. “Leigh screaming and running and seeing you there on the grass. I was ready to kill the stupid boy … but I have my doubts now. Do you remember what happened?”

“No. I was picking roses. It was warm and sunny and now and then I heard the sound of shooting. There is nothing exceptional about that. Then it happened. … I didn’t know what it was at first. I heard the shouting and I realized there was blood …”

“So you saw no one?”

“No one at all.”

“Not before you started picking the roses?”

“No. I don’t remember.”

Carleton was silent. “I’ve been very worried, Arabella.”

“Oh, Carleton. I’m glad. I’m so glad you care enough to be worried.”

“Care enough! What are you talking about? Aren’t you my wife? Aren’t I your loving husband?”

“My husband, yes. Loving … I’m not sure …”

“Things have been difficult lately, I know. I expect it’s my fault. All that fuss about the child we lost … as though it was your fault.”

“I understand your disappointment, Carleton. I’ve been touchy, anxious, I suppose, disappointed in myself for having disappointed you.”

“Foolish pair! We have so much. It makes one realize it when one comes near to losing it.”

He bent over me and kissed me. “Get well quickly, Arabella. Be your old self. Flash your eyes, scorn me, lash me with your tongue. … Make it like it used to be. That’s what I want.”

“Have I been too gentle?”

“Aloof,” he said, “as though there is something keeping us apart. There isn’t, is there?”

“Nothing that I have put there.”

“Then there is nothing.”

I was content while he sat by my bed. I was longing to be well again and I was determined to bring about that happy state.

He said: “I was so worried about that shot. I have to find out where it came from. The boy was so insistent. I don’t think he could be lying. He’s a brave little fellow. Not afraid to own up when he’s done wrong. He was so insistent. He was there alone. He is a good shot and I had given my permission for them to shoot the pigeons. He was doing nothing wrong. He said he wasn’t shooting in your direction at all. There weren’t any pigeons there. They were fluttering down from the roof. He said the shot went right over his head, to you, and it occurred to me that someone might have been hiding there in the bushes at the side of the house.”

“Someone hiding to shoot me. Why?”

“That’s what I wanted to find out. That’s what bothers me. I had an idea, and I went to see Young Jethro.”

“You think that he …?”

“It was an idea, and if it was possible to get to the bottom of this I’d made up my mind to. I went to the old barn where his father used to live and I said, ‘I want a word with you, Young Jethro.’ He was a little puzzled and I said, ‘Your father shot my cousin. Now my wife has been shot in the arm—but that may have been a lucky chance—and I wondered whether your family made a habit of shooting at mine.’”

“Carleton! Do you really think …?”

“Not now. He swore to God that he had done no such thing and I am sure a man with his beliefs would never swear to God unless he was telling the truth. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I’ve never killed none. If I was to, I’d be unworthy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. ’Tis wrong to kill. It says so in the Bible. “Thou shalt not kill.” Should I kill another soul I could suffer torment for it.’ Then he fell down on his knees and swore to me that he had not been near the house that day. That he knew nothing of the accident. He had no gun. I could search the barn. He never killed … not even pigeons. He didn’t think it was right and fitting to kill God’s creatures … And so he went on and on … and I was convinced that he was telling me the truth.”

“Perhaps it was Leigh, after all.”

“It seems likely. He was there. He had the gun. He was shooting pigeons. Yes, it seems very likely. And yet … He was so insistent. He cried and cried. Sally couldn’t comfort him. He kept saying he didn’t do it. The shot had come right over his head … which points to the bushes behind the house. Never mind. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he didn’t realize which way he was shooting. He’s not usually an untruthful boy.”

“If he did, it was an accident.”

“But of course. As if Leigh would want to hurt you. He adores you. But I’m going to find out … if I can.”

“Who else could it be? If it be? If it wasn’t Leigh or Young Jethro …”

“It could have been one of the servants who is afraid to own up.”

“Perhaps we should forget it.”

“You’re getting too excited. Yes, perhaps we should forget it.”

But I knew he went on thinking of it, and I lay back in bed feeling cherished and greatly comforted.

But not for long. As my arm began to heal and first it came out of its bandages and then out of its sling and I saw that there was only the faintest scar to remind me of it, I began to sense a tension in the house, a lurking fear, the awareness that all was not as it outwardly seemed.

“You’ve had a proper shock,” Sally Nullens told me, and Ellen confirmed this. “First that miss,” went on Sally, “then this. It’s too much for one body to stand. It begins to have its effect on the nerves, that’s what.”

Ellen said: “It’s funny how shocks come … never one at a time. It’s often in twos and threes.”

“Am I to look out for number three?” I asked.

Sally said: “It’s always well to be on the lookout. But just at first we’ve got to get you well. I’ve got a very special cordial and it takes a lot of beating, don’t it, Ellen?”

“Are you talking of your buttermilk one?”

“That’s the one,” said Sally. “You shall drink it every night, Mistress Arabella. You’ll drop into a nice peaceful sleep and we all know there’s nothing like that for putting you to rights.”

So they talked to me, but although I drank Sally’s buttermilk cordial, I did not sleep well. My anxieties, it seemed, went too deep to be lightly thrust aside.

My suspicions had returned. Did Carleton really love me? Did he really want me now that I had failed to give him a son? What a magnificent delusion he had created with the Roundheads when he had pretended he was one of them. He was as good an actor as Harriet was.

And Harriet? There was something about her. She was sleekly happy, although she was no longer so much with her son, and I did not believe this contentment came from motherhood. I remembered when she had come to England with Edwin and me. Was it the same satisfaction I had glimpsed on her face then?

What did it mean?

When I walked out in the gardens, my footsteps invariably took me towards the arbour. It was beginning to exert a fascination over me. Now that the trees were losing their leaves I could see it from my bedroom window and I made a habit of looking at it.

Once when I found my footsteps leading me that way, I heard my name being called and turning saw Chastity running after me.

“Don’t go there, mistress,” she said. “Don’t go nowhere near that place. ’Tis haunted.”

“Oh, nonsense, Chastity,” I said. “There’s no such thing as hauntings. Come with me and we’ll go together.”

She hesitated. She had always been particularly fond of me since the day when I had given her a pretty button.

“Come on. We’ll go and look. I’ll prove to you that there’s nothing to fear. It’s just four walls overgrown by shrubs because no one has cut them back for a long time.”

She put her hand in mine, but I was aware that she was trying to drag me back as we went along.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The place smelt a little musty. The dampness of the wet wood and the smell of leaves permeated it.

They were together here … Harriet and Edwin … My eyes went to the window where the fanatical eyes of Old Jethro had looked in. I could almost hear the shattering of the glass, the firing of the fatal shot … at closer range than the one which had been fired at me. I could picture Harriet, stunned, and yet collecting her wits quickly enough to run to tell Carleton what had happened.

Chastity was looking up at me, her eyes round with horror.

“Mistress, it is haunted. Come away … now. …”

Yes, I thought. It is haunted … haunted by memories. I never want to come here again.

Chastity was tugging on my hands and we went outside.

“Well, you see,” I said, “there was nothing to fear.”

She looked at me curiously and said nothing. I noticed how hard she gripped my hand until we were well away from the arbour.

That night looking from my bedroom window I saw a light flickering close to the arbour. I stared, fascinated, watching it moving among the bushes like a will-o’-the-wisp.

Now the light had disappeared. A lantern, I guessed, and I wondered who carried it and whether he—or she—bad gone inside and for what purpose?

I watched for a long time, but I did not see the lantern again. I began to think that I had imagined it.

I was still feeling weak.

Sally said: “Women can take a year or two to recover from a miss. Some says it’s worse than a birth. It’s unnatural, like, you see. And then of course that other affair …”

She seemed to be right. I was not like the Arabella I had been. Sometimes I thought I would like to go to Far Flamstead and try to tell my mother something about the doubts and suspicions which seemed constantly to be chasing themselves round and round in my mind.

And yet I wanted to stay here. I felt there was something going on in the house, something which deeply concerned me. I wished I could shake off this uneasiness, this feeling of foreboding.

Was it really that someone had shot at me, had hoped to kill me? It had been said that I was lucky. The pellets had hit my arm. Had they gone into my head or some other vital part of my body, they could have been fatal.

If Leigh had not accidentally shot me, who had? Was it someone aiming at a pigeon … or at me?

Carleton had been summoned once more to Whitehall. He looked a little sad sometimes, as though he wondered what was going wrong with our marriage, for after that display of tenderness when I had had my accident, we seemed to be on edge, both of us. I was unable to express what I felt for him; indeed I was not sure. I wanted him to love me, to be with me, to act as a husband. It seemed sometimes that I was trying to make him a different person from what he was. I was suspicious, uncertain of him, asking myself whether it was possible for a man who had lived as he had to reform and become a faithful husband. I could not forget Edwin and the manner in which he deceived me; and I could see—while I was unable to prevent it—that I was allowing this to colour my life.

I continued to be fascinated by the arbour. One afternoon when the household was quiet, I went out into the garden and almost involuntarily my footsteps led me there.

It was November now—a dankness everywhere; almost all the leaves had fallen and only the conifers gleamed a shiny green. Cobwebs were draped over them, for it was the season of spiders.

And as I came near to the arbour I heard a voice which seemed to be singing a mournful dirge. I went closer and to my amazement there against the wall of the arbour knelt a man. I recognized him at once as Young Jethro.

I approached and studied him. He was on his knees and his hands were clasped together as in prayer. Then I realized that he was praying.

He stopped suddenly. He must have been aware of my presence. He turned sharply and looked at me out of those wild eyes which were almost hidden by the unkempt eyebrows.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Praying,” he said. “Praying to God. There have been murder done here. ’Tis an unhallowed place. I’m praying to God for the soul of my father.”

“I understand,” I said.

“Oh, God, save his soul from eternal torment,” he said. “What he done, he done for the glory of God but the Book says, ‘Thou shalt not kill’ and that means even in His name. My father killed a man here. He were Satan’s own, caught in Satan’s work … but, the Lord says, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

I said gently: “It was all long ago, Young Jethro. It is best to forget.”

“He burns in hell. A good life and one false step and for it … he burns in hell.”

I kept seeing it again. Should I ever forget it? That scene in the arbour and the madman with the gun. The lovers … caught there. Illicit love and Edwin dying instantly, and Harriet running into the house and the self-righteous man of God going back to his barn, the task he had set himself to do, done. And afterwards? Had he suffered remorse? He was a murderer no matter in which cause he had murdered. And he had disobeyed the law of God.

I felt stirred with pity for this strange, near-mad man. I wanted to comfort him. To tell him that I who had suffered the loss of my husband through his father’s action forgave. And he must forget.

But there would be no reasoning with him. I could see that reason and Young Jethro were strangers. There was only the law of God as he saw it, and he believed that his father, in spite of all his piety, had committed a mortal sin.

I turned, and as I walked away I heard him muttering his prayers.

There was one thing I was sure of now. Young Jethro had not been the one who fired the shot at me, and Carleton’s theory that the Jethros harboured enmity towards our family because we were Royalist and Young Jethro thought we were responsible for the licentious state of the country had no foundation in truth.

Then it was someone else.

It was Leigh, I told myself. It must be so. Poor child, he had fired in the wrong direction and then was so terrified of what he had done that he had convinced himself that he hadn’t done it.

I was all right now. All I had to do was regain my inner health, to muster my spirits, to throw off my misgivings and feel life was good again.

Carleton was still away. I was in the nursery with Sally and she was going through the children’s clothes and trying to decide what was needed. Later we should go to London and buy what was required.

Both Benjie and Priscilla were having that afternoon nap which Sally insisted they have, and the boys were out riding.

I was on the point of telling Sally about Young Jethro’s prayers at the arbour when Charlotte came in.

She went to the cots and looked at the sleeping children.

“How peaceful they look!” she murmured.

“Not much peace about them half an hour ago,” said Sally. “Benjie was screaming his head off and Mistress Priscilla had fallen down and dirtied her clean dress.”

“It’s all forgotten now,” commented Charlotte. “How soon their troubles are over. I was thinking we ought to do something about the arbour. It’s getting so overgrown.”

“Yes,” I said, alert suddenly.

“That old place should be pulled down, I reckon,” put in Sally. “What do you think of this muslin, mistress? Priscilla is getting too big for it. It’s in good order though. I’ll wash it and put it away. Who knows when it might come in handy?”

I knew she was referring to the fact that in due course I should have another child. It was a habit of hers, done, I believe, to reassure me. Dear Sally!

“I went inside the old arbour. I couldn’t resist it,” said Charlotte. “What a musty old place it is! Yes, I do think it should be pulled down. The paving must have been quite pretty at one time.”

I thought of the paving—a mosaic in pale blue and white, stained red with Edwin’s blood and Harriet watching him, panic seizing her, wondering what she must do.

I had to stop these pictures coming into my mind every time anyone mentioned the arbour.

I tripped over one of the paving-stones which was loose,” went on Charlotte. “I stopped to fit it in place and I found these funny things … like little dolls. … They seemed to have been put under the loose stone. What are they?”

She drew two little figures from the pocket of her dress.

“What would you say they are meant to be?” she went on.

Sally had come to look. She turned pale, then I saw that they were wax models. One had a look of someone. The set of the eyes, the shape of the moulded nose. Myself!

I looked at Sally and saw the hot colour flame into her face which a moment before had been so pale.

“That’s a witch’s work,” she said.

“What do you mean, Sally?” asked Charlotte. “They’re children’s toys, I think. But what were they doing under the paving-stone in the arbour?”

Sally picked up the figure which resembled me. “You see where the pins have been. There … where you would have been carrying the child.” She picked up the other figure. “Oh, my God. I see what it’s meant to be. It’s the wax image of an unborn child.”

We all looked at each other.

“How long have they been there, I wonder?” I said.

“I … I have only just found them,” stammered Charlotte.

“It looks as if …” began Sally. “No, I can’t say it.” She turned to me and laid her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, my poor Mistress Arabella, now we know …”

“Know what?” I demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s witchcraft,” she said. “It’s killed the child … and it’s meant to harm you.”

Sally had kept the wax dolls. “I’ll destroy these,” she had said. “That’s the best thing that can be done with them. The mischief they’ve done is over. It’s a good thing you found them, Mistress Charlotte. Now we’ve got to keep our eyes open. At least we know what’s going on.”

When we had left her Charlotte said to me: “I wish I hadn’t shown them to her. I’m sure they mean nothing. They must be dolls children have had at some time. They might have been there years and become misshapen.”

“One of them had a look of me, Sally seemed to think.”

“Well, she would because of the accident. I wish I hadn’t been so thoughtless.” She looked at me anxiously. “All this hasn’t upset you, Arabella, has it?”

I assured her it hadn’t, but of course it had.

I was very uneasy. Carleton was in London. I wished he were here. I told myself that if he had been I should have gone to him and told him of Charlotte’s find and Sally’s comment. I could imagine his laughter. But I wanted to hear his laughter. I wanted to hear him pour scorn on what he would call “old goodies tales.”

I went to bed early. I could not sleep. I lay listening to every sound, and how the boards creaked! I would start to doze and then start up suddenly because something had roused me. Probably my own uneasy thoughts.

I heard midnight strike and lay listening to the timbre of the tower clock chime. I lay wondering about Carleton and what he was doing at Whitehall. I thought of all the stories one heard of the life that was lived there. The King was surrounded by favourites like Lady Castlemaine, Moll Davis—although I believe her reign was over—and Nell Gwyn. They lived lightheartedly, promiscuously, and Carleton was a member of that Court. I had heard it said that the King enjoyed his company. How could I help wondering who else did?

A sound in the corridor. Yes, footsteps. Silently creeping.

I leaped out of bed. I was shaking. I kept thinking of a doll made in my image with pinholes showing in the wax. It had not lain under the flagstone so very long. Those holes were too fresh for that. And what was the use of pretending it had? And it had been made to look like me!

The light sound of a footfall. Someone was creeping slowly along …

Cautiously, silently, I opened the door and peeped out. A light was moving along. It came from a candle which was being carried.

She was going carefully, her lovely long hair flowing about her shoulders, her feet in soft slippers, a robe flowing open to show the edges of a silken bedgown.

Harriet!

If she turned now she would see me. But she did not turn. She went on along the corridor.

I closed my door and leaned against it. What was Harriet doing creeping along the corridor when the household was asleep?

In the morning, I thought, I will tell her I saw her and ask her where she was going.

But I did not ask, for when I left my room and went downstairs the first person I met was Carleton.

“Carleton!” I cried. “When did you come home?”

“Last night,” he said. “Rather late.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“In the grey room. I thought I wouldn’t disturb you. Sally tells me you haven’t been sleeping well of late.”

“That … was thoughtful of you,” I said coolly, thinking of Harriet creeping silently along the corridor.

Carleton had gone off for the day; he had some estate business to attend to. So much time spent at Court was not good for the estate, he said. It meant that when he did return he found arrears of work.

“Will you be back tonight?” I asked.

He kissed me tenderly. “I shall,” he answered. “And however late I am I’ll disturb you.”

He kissed me with passion and my response was immediate. If only, I thought, all could be well between us, how much happier I should be.

I did not see Harriet during the morning. She seemed to have disappeared. Then I heard that the boys had gone riding with Gregory Stevens and Harriet had decided to accompany them. The would be away for most of the day, as Gregory had promised to take the boys to an inn where they could have a mug of ale and some hot bread and bacon. Chastity told me that they had gone off in high spirits.

It was a dark and misty afternoon. I was in my room when there was a knock on the door. It was Charlotte.

She looked strange, I thought, uneasy. But then she often did.

“Oh, Arabella,” she said, “I’m glad I found you alone. There’s something I wanted to say to you.”

“Yes.”

“Something is going on in this house. Oh, I don’t mean witchcraft, as old Sally says. But something nevertheless.”

“What?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment, then she said, “Oh, I know you think that I’m rather stupid …”

“Of course I don’t.”

“You don’t have to pretend. Most people do. Well, perhaps not stupid, but not very bright and not attractive … not like you and Harriet, for instance.”

“You’re imagining this.”

“I don’t think I am. But I’m not stupid. There are things I see which some people miss. You, for instance …”

“Why don’t you tell me what you came to say, Charlotte?”

“I’m trying to. It’s not easy. I don’t forget how you saved me once …”

“Oh, that’s long ago.”

“I’ve always remembered. Sometimes I wonder whether I should have done it. People think they will leave this world and then at the last minute they’re afraid. I just thought there wasn’t anything to live for. They had made so much fuss about Charles Condey … having that house party, talking of making the announcement … I just didn’t think I could face it.”

“I understand that.”

“Harriet is evil, Arabella. Do you know that? Oh, I’m not sure about witchcraft. But I do know she is evil. She wantonly broke up my life … now she will do the same to you. She already did it once, didn’t she? I knew how it was with her and Edwin. I knew right at the start. I daresay you’ll despise me, but I listen at doors. I pry and peep and find out things. It’s mean and underhand but it compensates me in a way. I don’t have much life of my own so I live other people’s. I know more than they do, because I listen and peep and that justifies me in a way because I’m not bright and attractive. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do. But, Charlotte …”

She waved her hand. “Listen. She married Uncle Toby, didn’t she, because she wanted to come here and she wanted his name and title because she was determined he should get it. You don’t think Benjie is Uncle Toby’s son, do you?”

“Whose?” I asked.

“Are you so innocent, Arabella?”

I felt myself flushing hotly. “Charlotte, you are talking nonsense.”

“No. She wanted a son who was a claimant. Benjie to follow on Edwin.”

“Are you suggesting that she would dare hurt Edwin? That’s nonsense.”

“Perhaps I have said too much. You would rather not hear.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Forgive me, Arabella. I wanted to repay you … for saving my life once, but if you would be happier not knowing … if you would rather wait until doom overtakes you …”

“Tell me what you know,” I said tersely.

“I know this. Edwin was her lover. He was shot when they were in the arbour. At that time she was already carrying his child. Leigh is not Charles Condey’s son.”

“I know,” I said.

“So she deceived you with Edwin. Then she ran away, leaving you to look after your husband’s bastard, and you did. Arabella, you are a good woman. It grieves me to see you treated thus. But you are blind … sometimes I think wilfully blind. You really thought Benjie was Uncle Toby’s son. That was rather naive. Poor Uncle Toby, he had to die when she was pregnant.”

“Are you suggesting she … killed him.”

“In a comfortable, natural sort of way which could hardly be brought against her. It wasn’t difficult to excite the old gentleman. She knew he had already had his heart attack. Child’s play. She knew she would do it sooner or later. So natural, they said, didn’t they, an ageing husband, a young exciting wife.”

“Oh, don’t, Charlotte.”

“I know you hate it. I wouldn’t say anymore, but you’re in danger, Arabella. Don’t you see what they want?”

“They? Who?”

“Harriet and … Carleton.”

“Carleton!”

“Surely you know. Why is he away so much? Is he in London, do you think? Edwin was away on secret business, wasn’t he? Secret business with Harriet. She has their son. Benjie. Have you noticed that Carleton is rather fond of him? She has proved she can have sons. They want to marry. They want to take Eversleigh and rule it between them.”

“Carleton already does that for Edwin. You’ve forgotten Edwin. Eversleigh is Edwin’s.”

“What do you think they plan for Edwin? A little pigeon shooting? No, perhaps that wouldn’t do. The last one was not a success.”

“Charlotte, this is madness.”

“There’s madness in this house, Arabella. The madness of greed and illicit passion and hatred and murder. Open your eyes and look. Who was the first on the scene when you were shot? He hadn’t far to come from the bushes, had he? Don’t you see? Death’s hovering over your head. Like a great black bird. Can’t you hear his wings? You first, then Edwin …”

“Oh, no … no …”

“They are together. I’ve seen them.”

I closed my eyes. I pictured Harriet moving stealthily along the corridor, a candle in her hand. I could hear Carleton’s voice: “… Rather late. I thought I wouldn’t disturb you …” I cried: “No. No!” But it could fit so easily.

“They have a meeting place. They leave notes there. In the arbour. I have seen some of them. That was how I came to find the wax dolls. It’s a sort of bravado that makes them go there. It’s like snapping their fingers at fate. Then, of course, not many people would want to go there after dark, would they? It satisfies their sense of the macabre … and at the same time it’s safe. That’s a good point. They don’t want to be discovered before they’ve completed their plans … their devious, hideous plans. Oh, Arabella, you look at me so strangely. I think you don’t believe me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. But how could I keep silent? I tell you death is right overhead. It’s come very near to you and you’ve escaped by the luck of the moment. It frightens me, Arabella. I don’t know what to do … to save you … to save Edwin. I know what is in their black hearts. I have seen them together, I have listened to them. But you doubt me. I tell you what. Let us go to the arbour … now. They leave notes there for each other. Perhaps she is there now … with him. Who can say? She said she was going riding, but is she, I wonder?”

“As soon as Carleton comes in I shall talk to him,” I said. “I shall talk to Harriet.”

“You cannot mean that. What would they say? Charlotte is lying. Charlotte is mad, and they might even convince you. They would be shocked to think they had not been careful enough to escape detection. But I know it would only postpone your fate. You are doomed, Arabella—you and your son Edwin. No matter what I reminded them of they would stand together against me … and you would believe them because you wanted to. You won’t give yourself a chance to see the proof … even now.”

“Show me this proof,” I said.

Her eyes lit up suddenly. “Oh, Arabella, I’m so glad you’re ready to look at the truth. Let us go to the arbour now. I saw her go in there before she went off. I know where they hide their messages. If he has not already been in to take it we shall find it. Come now.”

She put her arm through mine and together we went out of the house.

The arbour looked dismal in the dim light of a November afternoon, and I felt sick with fear as we went across the grass.

“It’s a horrible place,” said Charlotte. “I always hated it. Come on … quickly, Arabella.”

She pushed open the door and we went in. I was relieved that no one was there. She stopped and lifted the broken paving-stone.

“There’s nothing there,” I said.

“There’s another one over there. Look.”

I went to the spot where she pointed. She was right. I lifted the stone. There was a piece of paper there. I felt sick with horror. Something was written on it but I could not see what.

“It looks just like childish scribble,” I said.

I turned. I was alone, and the door was shut.

“Charlotte,” I called. I went towards the door.

I heard her voice: “It’s jammed. I can’t open it.” She was right. It would not budge. Then I noticed that the key which usually hung on a nail there was missing.

“I’ll go and get someone,” she called.

So I was alone in the arbour. I looked at the paper in my hand. Just a scrawl across it. What did it mean? A code of some sort, perhaps. What a foolish notion. It was like something Priscilla might have done.

I sat down on the bench. How I hated the place. Edwin … Harriet … and now Carleton and Harriet. History grimly repeating itself.

“I don’t believe it,” I said aloud. “I can’t believe it.”

I heard a sound. I was alert, listening. They must have come to release me. I called out. Then I heard a sound which made me cold with terror. It was the unmistakable crackle of wood and I saw that smoke was seeping into the arbour. The place was on fire.

I ran to the door and threw myself against it. It did not budge. I understood. It was locked from the outside.

“Oh, God,” I prayed. “What is happening to me? Charlotte. Charlotte … is it you, then, who are trying to kill me?”

“Let me out!” I cried. “Let me out!”

I hammered on the door. How firm the old wood was. The heat was getting intolerable. It could not be long before this wooden structure was ablaze.

I felt myself fainting, for the heat was becoming intense. This is the end, I thought. I should die without knowing why Charlotte hated me so.

I felt a rush of air suddenly. Then the flames roared up.

I was seized, picked up and carried into oblivion.

Old Jethro had killed Edwin, and Young Jethro had saved my life. Regaining my consciousness I was vaguely aware of him as he kneeled beside me, giving thanks to God. “A miracle,” he was shouting. “God has seen fit to show me a miracle.” I was carried into the house. He put me into Sally’s charge.

To have faced death once more and this time being saved only by Jethro’s miracle gave me a strangely exalted feeling. I suppose my mind was wandering and I was unaware that I was lying on my bed. Sally had sent for the doctor. I had suffered no burns, only a scorching of the skin of one hand. It was the smoke which had come near to suffocating me. Not more than a few minutes could have lapsed between the time Charlotte set the arbour alight and Jethro got me out. He had been watching us. It seemed that he had spent many hours of his days watching and praying at the arbour. He had seen Charlotte lock me in; he had seen her throw inflammable oil on the bracken about the arbour and on its walls and ignite the place. Then he had come straight in and got me out.

He was like a man possessed. He had prayed for a sign that his father was forgiven and taken into Heaven, and this he was sure was it. His father had taken a life and he had been given the chance to save one.

“Praise God in His Heaven,” he cried.

I was deeply shocked, said the doctor. I must lie quietly. I must take care.

And indeed I had every reason to be shocked. Within a short time murder had been twice attempted and I its victim. No one—except Sally—could say that my miscarriage was due to anything but natural misfortune, but that there had been two attempts on my life was obvious.

When Carleton returned to the house he came at once to my room.

When I saw his face I asked myself how I could ever have been so foolish as to have doubted him. If ever I needed proof that he loved me, it was there in his eyes for me to read.

He knelt by my bed. He took my hand, the one which was not bandaged, and kissed it.

“My dearest, what is going on? Is this a madhouse?”

“I think there is madness in it,” I said.

He knew that I had been shut in the arbour but when he heard that Charlotte had locked me in, he was astounded.

“Where in God’s name is she?” he asked. “We must find her. She will do someone an injury. She must have gone completely mad.”

But Charlotte had disappeared.

They searched for her but they could not find her. Carleton stayed by my bedside. He made me tell him everything that had happened. I could hold nothing back now. It all came tumbling out, my doubts, my suspicions, my fears, and as I talked and he listened there came to us a revelation and that was that we had been brought face to face with ourselves. We loved each other; no one had ever or could ever mean the same to us. Edwin had not really died in the arbour; he had lived on to stand between us. We had both of us built up our own image of Edwin and his importance in our life. I had convinced myself that I had truly loved him and that because he had deceived me I would never trust anyone again. Carleton had believed that I would never let him take that place which had been Edwin’s. I think we saw then how foolish we had been. How we had allowed a false conception to corrode our marriage.

Lying there in my bed with Carleton sitting beside me while we talked to each other in low, intense voices, laying bare our innermost thoughts, the revelation came to us. It was a chance to begin again, free from our shackles, to live again to find our happiness together.

One of the servants going into the library early next morning found a letter which was addressed to me.

My hands shook as I opened it, for I saw that it was in Charlotte’s handwriting.

“How did you get this?” I demanded.

“It was in the library, mistress,” was the answer, “propped up against the books on one of the shelves.”

I opened it and read:

Dear Arabella,

I owe you an explanation. When I had set fire to the arbour I came into the house and watched from one of the windows. When I saw Young Jethro carry you out I knew that was the end for me. Do you remember when you came with Edwin and Harriet you hid in that secret cavity in the library? Few people knew about it. It has been kept like that for family emergencies. … I went and hid myself there. I took paper and pen there and I am writing this to you now. I hate anything to be unfinished. So I don’t just want to disappear. If I did it would create one of those mysteries about which people speculate and make up all sorts of legends.

You know how it has always been with me. I am the outsider … the disappointment. Even my parents couldn’t hide their exasperation with me sometimes. I never shone at parties. I remember hearing my mother say once, “How are we ever going to find a husband for Charlotte?” I was fifteen at the time. I was so desperately unhappy I decided to take my life. Cut my veins as the Romans die. So you see when you found me at the parapet there it was not the first time I had contemplated taking my life. It was a sort of balm to my anger. They’ll be sorry then, I would say, and would be comforted contemplating their sorrow. People who constantly threaten a suicide for the discomfiture of others rarely do it. But there can come a time when there is no turning back.

I’m giving myself the luxury of writing to you now and I must resist the temptation to go on and on. I have to be brief.

I thought I was going to marry Charles Condey but Harriet spoilt that. If I had married him I might have settled down and become an ordinary wife—not very exciting, of course, but then Charles was not exciting. He was the one for me. How I hated her. I could have killed her. When I found out Edwin was her lover I was comforted in a way. I had not been the only one who had suffered. It shows you my nature, which is not at all admirable, I fear.

Then we came home and when I saw Carleton I admired him so much. He seemed to be in command of his life as I never could be. He is the sort of person I should have liked to be. My parents were always saying what a pity it was he was married to Barbary, and when she died I heard them say, “Now if Carleton married Charlotte, what a marvellous solution that would be.” I don’t think I should have thought of it as a possibility but for that. Then I started to think about it. Why not? It would be convenient. Married to Carleton. I thought that would be wonderful. I almost loved Harriet for preventing my marriage to Charles Condey.

Then you married Carleton so suddenly and unexpectedly because you’d always seemed to dislike each other. I hadn’t thought of you as a rival. It wasn’t that I hated you. I could never do that. I just hated life and fate or whatever you call it which had been against me from the start. I watched Harriet. I saw how she used people and I said to myself, why shouldn’t I use people too? Of course I know she is very handsome and amusing and people are attracted by her, but if you have none of these gifts you can be subtle and clever and work in the dark. So that was what I did. I thought that if you died Carleton would be so distressed he would turn to me. I believe my mother would have done everything she could to bring about a marriage between us. I knew how Carleton felt about you. I’d seen him watching you. I know him well. I know all people well. When you don’t have much life of your own, you watch other people … you live other people’s lives. The sound of his voice when he spoke of you … the look in his eyes. I knew that if you died he would not care very much, and if it was convenient, which it would have been, and if there was a little gentle persuasion from the family … someone to look after the children … it could well be. That was what I worked for. As for Harriet, he disliked her. I don’t know what it is about people like those two. They are both experienced with the other sex … both very attractive to people … and yet with each other there is an instant dislike. He hated Harriet being in this house. He hated her influence with you. I knew that he would never marry her—nor she, him, unless it was to get control of Eversleigh. And that was Edwin’s. She was proud to have her Benjie next in line, but she was leaving that to fate. She would never hurt Edwin. All she wanted was a place of comfort. That was what she had worked for all her life.

So it was you I wanted out of the way. I wanted Carleton. He saw how I liked the children. He once said to me: “You should have had children, Cousin Charlotte.” That seemed to me a signpost. I started to plan. I knew how things were between you. I understood you both well. He was angry because he thought you cared for Edwin as you never could for him, and you couldn’t forget how Edwin had deceived you and you thought Carleton was doing the same. You were both of you pouring poison into the marriage cup. You deserved to lose each other.

I used to dream of the years ahead, Carleton and I married, children of our own. That was what I wanted. Then I would be able to forget everything that led up to it. I’m telling you this because I hate loose ends. I want you to understand why I did what I did. I don’t want you to say: “Oh, Charlotte was mad.” Charlotte was not mad. Charlotte was clever. She knew what she wanted and she was only trying to get it. But things went wrong. I shot at you from the bushes, but you moved at the wrong moment and you were only wounded in the arm and that put you on guard which was not helpful to me.

Then I decided that I must act quickly because you were going to be very watchful after the shooting. I put the wax dolls in the arbour. I was going to make Sally suspicious of Harriet. I was going to make it believed that she was a witch. After all, people were only too ready to accept that. They would say it was witchcraft which made you lose the child … though I had no hand in that. Of course it wasn’t witchcraft that wounded you. But it could be said that the Devil guided Leigh’s hand. That was what people were saying. Then I thought of the arbour. That would have worked but for Young Jethro. Who could have believed that a mad man could have spoilt all my plans?

It’s over for me now. I am caught. What can I do? I have to put into practice what I had often thought of doing and failed to do before. This time there is no turning back.

As soon as it is dark I am going to creep out of this house. I shall walk to the sea. Look in the cave … you remember the cave? You hid there while you waited for horses to bring you to the house. There you will find my cloak … high on a rock where the tide cannot reach it. I shall have disappeared from you life forever. I am going to walk into the sea … and walk, and walk …

Good-bye, Arabella. You can be happy now. Learn to understand Carleton, as he will learn to understand you. Charlotte.

We found her cloak where she had said it would be. We went to the hidden cavity behind the library books. There she had left paper and pen, so we knew it was all as she had said.

Poor Charlotte, I think of her often. Where the arbour was we have made a flower garden. The roses flourish there, and we have cleared away the charred bracken and it has become part of the garden. No one says it’s haunted now. Few remember that once an arbour stood there.

Harriet left us only a few weeks after Charlotte’s death.

The elder brother of Gregory Stevens was killed when his horse threw him and Gregory inherited lands and title. Harriet married him. They had long been lovers. They went, taking Benjie with them. Harriet told me that he was Gregory’s son.

I see them about twice a year. Harriet has lost her slim and willowy figure. She is in truth a little plump but I don’t think that detracts from her charm. She still retains that, and now that she is contented with life, having achieved her goal, seems to live very happily.

And I too. Carleton and I have our son, Carl. It is a good life. Not without its conflicts, of course. We rage against each other now and then, but our love deepens as time passes and we know that we belong to each other and nothing can alter that.

This morning I was at the arbour cutting roses to fill my basket, and I realized suddenly that I saw only the beautiful flowers now.

I had learned to bury the past, and when I did remember it, to see it as an experience which would show me the way to preserve the contentment which life was offering me.

I said something of this to Carleton. He was inclined to be flippant—but then he often is, I have discovered, when he is most serious.

I am content. Life is good. It is for us to keep it so.