The love child

Island Lovers

WE WERE ALL IMMENSELY relieved at Jocelyn’s departure, for my mother had written that she and my father were preparing to return and we were certain that one of them at least would have discovered that something unusual was taking place.

Carl had been warned to be careful of what he said, but in any case the adventure was over as far as he was concerned and his entire attention was now focused on a new falcon he had acquired and which one of the gamekeepers was helping him to train. Carl’s conversation consisted of nothing but this bird.

Leigh showed us a letter he had received from Harriet.

All was well at Eyot Abbas, she wrote. She had had to postpone the visit to town which she and Gregory had been contemplating. Benjie was in good spirits. He had taken quite a fancy to a visitor they had staying with them—a man with whom she had acted years ago. He was quite young, having taken child’s parts naturally, and he had never really made the grade as an adult actor, poor fellow. But he was quite amusing and it was fun to have him. He fitted quite well into the household and she was not sure how long he could stay with them. She was happy to have him, for Leigh knew how much she liked visitors when they were in the country. Gregory had had a slight cold and was saying when were some of you coming to see us? …

Leigh patted the letter, well pleased. “You can trust her to enter into the spirit of the thing.”

Christabel came to my room that night. She looked excited and quite beautiful.

“I wanted to talk to you, Priscilla,” she said. “I’m sorry to come at this time but I wanted to be sure of our being alone. Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” I said. “Come in.”

She sat down. “I noticed the ring you were wearing,” she told me. “What happened to it?”

“Leigh made me hide it away.” I did not tell her that when I wore bodices with high necks I wore it on a chain hidden from sight.

She raised her eyebrows and a secret smile played about those mobile lips. She said: “Jocelyn gave it to you, didn’t he?”

I nodded.

“I believe he’s in love with you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It was rather obvious, and then that day when you came back after the scare with the dogs, I guessed he had said something.”

“I know it must sound ridiculous, but he has asked me to marry him if …”

She nodded, understanding. “It’s very romantic,” she said. “I understand because …”

It was my turn to study her. She burst out: “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I have always been wondering how I could ever have gone back to the rectory and now … now I shall be here. I shall be one of you.”

“What do you mean? You are one of us now. We all look upon you as a friend … especially after this which we have all done together.

“It’s strange but this matter … being in danger … conspiring together … it’s done something to us all.”

“To you, Christabel?”

“Yes, to me … and Edwin.”

“You mean you love each other.”

“I love him.”

“Then he loves you, too. Oh, why didn’t I see it? It’s so obvious.”

“As obvious as you and Jocelyn.”

“Oh, Christabel, you look so happy.”

“I am happy. It means so much to me. It is not only Edwin … loving him … knowing he loves me. It’s other things besides. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t think of them but if you had been brought up as I had …”

“I know what you mean. It’s all going to be changed. It’s going to be different for you. You can’t help thinking of that as well as being with Edwin. Has he spoken to you then? Has he asked you to marry him?”

“He has shown me in a hundred ways that he loves me. He has told me so, yes.”

I thought: Edwin is not the sort to take these matters lightly. He is not like Leigh. If Edwin were in love it would be serious. I had never heard the servants giggling together about his way of life.

“I am so happy for you,” I said. “You will be a sort of sister. Now you won’t have to think of leaving here. Oh, Christabel, I’m so glad you came.”

“It was the turning point in my life.” She laughed, quite joyously. She was quite different from the woman who had come to us not so long ago. It was as though the facade which she had built up to mask her feelings was evaporating. “And to think how frightened I was when I came here,” she went on. “I remember sitting downstairs and facing your parents …” A shadow crept across her face. “Do you think your parents will accept this?”

I was not sure. I remembered the talk of the Merridew and Egham girls. I wondered what their reaction would be. My parents attitude towards Christabel had made me speculate at first. My father had seemed anxious that she should settle in and had been considerate towards her, showing a little more interest than I should have thought was warranted. My mother would always be considerate to anyone who came into the household, but I fancy she regarded her with some suspicion, and I could see she often wondered why my father had brought her to us.

No, I was not at all sure what their reaction would be, but I had no wish to alarm Christabel out of her happiness, which it gave me great pleasure to contemplate.

So I said: “I am sure they will want Edwin to be happy, and Edwin is now of age.”

She seemed satisfied with that and sat talking for about half an hour of this dangerous mission of ours, and we laughed over our alarms and congratulated ourselves on doing rather well.

After she had gone I felt the euphoria die out of me.

I wondered what would be the outcome for us both—Christabel with Edwin who might have to face opposition, and myself who loved a fugitive who was at this moment hiding behind an assumed name.

My parents had returned to the house and as was usual on such occasions there was to be a celebration to welcome them back. Consequently the house was full of the smells of savoury pies and roasting meats. Ellen was bustling around, full of importance. Chastity came in to help and all was activity.

We were all in the hall to greet them—myself, Carl, Edwin, Leigh and Christabel, who hovered in the background.

My mother embraced me warmly. My father scarcely looked at me but he studied Carl carefully. We were all a little anxious about Carl, although we had warned him to be careful. He could so easily betray what we had done, although he would try not to. His thoughts were now full of the falcon, though, and there was a new interest because Pollux was going to have puppies. I felt the old resentment rising. My father looked so distinguished, so different from all other men; I was so proud of him. Whenever I saw him after an absence I noticed these things about him even more than usual, and I longed for one look of approval or even of interest. It never came. He was aware of me to some extent, of course. He knew he had a daughter; he remembered my name, but I guessed he was not sure of my age—whereas he knew everything concerning Carl.

His first remark was: “I believe the boy’s grown a few inches.”

“One and a half,” said Carl. “It’s by the cupboard, truly.”

He was referring to the schoolroom cupboard where his height had been measured throughout his life. There were others there too—those of Edwin and my own father, for both of them had been brought up at Eversleigh. Carl’s ambition was to top his father. I sometimes thought my father wanted him to do that too. I felt hurt that girls should be considered of such small account because of their sex and I was almost glad that I had been involved in something of which I believed he would not have approved.

“That’s good. You’ll be almost as tall as I am one day,” said my father.

“I’m going to be taller,” boasted Carl. It was the sort of attitude which pleased my father. He gave my brother an affectionate push.

My mother slipped her arm through mine. She always seemed as if she wanted to make up for my father’s neglect of me, but I really should have preferred it if she had pretended not to notice.

There was a certain normality about the house now that they had returned and I realized how difficult it would have been to have hidden Jocelyn if they had been at home. I had been wearing the ring round my neck that day, and for the evening I put on a dress which exposed my arms and neck, so I took it off and put it carefully away in a drawer behind some linen.

I met my mother on the way down and she started to tell me about the new hairstyles they were using at Court.

“They’re wearing loose curls on the forehead. It’s all curls. I don’t think the forehead ones would suit you, but I like the style with the hair caught up with a ribbon to hang at the side of the face. These curls are called heartbreakers. They are supposed to be alluring.” She had turned to me and touched my light brown hair, which was fine but abundant and certainly not inclined to be curly.

“Oh,” she went on, “what’s that mark on your skin? I see. It’s that chain of yours. It’s left quite a mark. It’s been pressing on your skin. I didn’t notice you were wearing the chain today.”

“I … I … er I was,” I said. I hoped I was not flushing as I feared I might be.

“But I didn’t see it, darling.”

“Oh, I was wearing it … for a time.”

It was only a small matter, but it was an indication of how careful one had to be. She might begin to wonder and realize that I had been wearing the chain under my bodice. Now why should a girl want to wear a gold chain so that it did not show!

Over the meal my father talked a great deal about what was going on at Court. Monmouth seemed certain that he would get his father to legitimatize him.

“The best thing possible,” commented my father. “It’ll put York’s nose out of joint and that’s the best place for that to be.”

Edwin asked: “Have you spoken to the King about it?”

“I? My dear fellow, Charles would not listen to me or anyone. I’d be told—with the utmost good humour of course—to mind my own business. And, who knows, in a short time there might be a cooling of royal favour. No, Charles knows what he is going to do and nobody’s going to persuade him. He’s insisting at the moment that he was never married to Lucy Walter and that Monmouth is therefore a bastard.”

“In that case,” said Leigh, “our next King must be James.”

“There will be some who will not accept that because it means Popery.”

“What’s happening to Titus Oates?”

“He’s still in Whitehall. There have been certain voices raised against him. He’s not the most popular man in the country.”

“Do you think that if he falls out of favour all this persecution of Catholics will stop?” I asked.

My father turned to look at me and I was deeply conscious of his cool, appraising gaze. I felt bitter. I wished he could have looked at me with interest just once.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Charles is not interested really. He’s the most tolerant man alive. He loathes all the fuss.”

“Then why doesn’t he do something about it?” I cried impatiently.

“Too lazy,” said Leigh. “But he did save the Queen. Oates would have had the axe for her if he could have arranged it.”

“He’s a beast!” I cried.

My mother said: “It will pass. These things always do.”

“Yes,” I retorted passionately, “but in the meantime people are being hunted and executed. It’s cruel.”

“Some say that the King is secretly Catholic,” put in Christabel.

There was silence at the table for a few moments, then my father said: “He would never openly admit to it. He’s too shrewd … too clever. He knows the people won’t have it and he is determined to please the people. But the next King must be a firm Protestant. It will have to be Monmouth.”

“But the Duke of York will never accept that,” said my mother. “And I don’t think it’s wise to speak of these things of which we know nothing. There is a long letter from Harriet. She is staying in the country for a while. She has a rather amusing young man staying with her … an actor.”

My father said: “Harriet has always got amusing young men staying with her and they are invariably actors.” He spoke coldly. He did not like Harriet and she did not like him. He was one of the few men who had not been fascinated by her. “When are you young fellows returning to duty?” he went on.

“Awaiting orders,” answered Leigh. “It can’t be long now.”

“You’ll have to tell us what you’ve been doing while we’ve been away,” said my mother.

There was an awkward silence and my father laughed.

“It sounds, Bella,” he said, “as though they have been up to some tricks.”

We all laughed, rather falsely, I think. I heard myself saying: “We rode quite a bit. We even had a picnic once …”

“Good weather for it,” commented my father.

“It was a rather special sort of picnic,” cried Carl.

Four pairs of eyes were fixed on him warningly. He lowered his head. “Not really a special one,” he muttered.

“Just an ordinary sort of picnic.”

“Very ordinary,” said my mother, “in November!”

I thought again how fortunate we had been to have got Jocelyn to Harriet’s before they returned.

Servants in a house such as ours are like spies. They know what we are doing at any moment. They are conversant with our daily habits and if we should step out of line they are immediately aware of it. I was passing Sally Nullens’s room when I overheard her talking to Emily Philpots, and as I realized what they were talking about I shamelessly stopped to listen.

“Of all the impudence! Who does she think she is? Mark my words, didn’t I say as soon as she entered these doors that I knew her sort? Adventuress. That’s what she is.” That was Emily Philpots.

Then Sally Nullens: “It can’t be true she’s got her claws in my Lord Edwin. Not my Lord Edwin! A dear little chap he was—different from that Leigh. Now if it had been him …”

“I know what she’s after. She fancies herself as Lady Eversleigh. If she ever became that I’d go in sorrow to my grave. I would, I’m telling you, Sally, I really would.”

“It don’t seem right if the reason she was brought here was …”

“Well, what would you say? It’s not like him to take such notice of Priscilla’s education. She was never of much account to him.”

“That’s true enough. I remember his disappointment the day she was born. It was a boy he wanted, and when Carl came along … proud as a dog with a couple of tails, he was. Now he brings her in. Why was he so interested in her? Do you really think …”

“I do, Sally, I do indeed.”

“What will he say when his lady friend wants to marry Lord Edwin?”

“Will he care? He was never one for Edwin, was he? He’ll laugh, he will. Passing on his leftovers.”

My impulse was to go in and box their ears. They were two evil-minded disgruntled old women. How dared they say those things about Christabel and about my father? It was such nonsense. I would not believe for one moment that Christabel had been my father’s mistress, which was what those two old women were suggesting.

I curbed my anger and went quietly away. I did not want to hear any more.

After we retired that evening I was very uneasy thinking about what I had overheard and wondering if there was just an element of truth in it. No! I could not believe that of Christabel … nor of my father. If I had discovered that he had had a mistress, I suppose I should not have been so very surprised, but I was sure he had too much respect for my mother and was too fond of her to bring such a woman into the house. Sally and Emily were two malicious old women whose malice had been fostered by a sense of grievance. I understood them in a way. They had passed their usefulness and hated the world for that reason.

I was very apprehensive thinking about Jocelyn and wondering what the outcome of everything would be. I wondered how long he could reasonably stay with Harriet. His sojourn there must be continued as only a temporary answer to our problem.

From the back of the drawer I took out the chain on which hung the ring. I pulled the ring off the chain and slipped it onto my finger. I sat there looking at it. It was the sort of ring which would have been noticed immediately. Leigh was right about that. Not only was the rather elaborate crest etched in gold on the lapis lazuli but inside the ring was the family name. One had to look close to read it but then it was clear enough.

I put my lips to it, thinking of those moments in the cave and the deep tenderness of his voice when he had said he loved me. I had remembered it when I was in the hall and my father had scarcely noticed me. Like Christabel, like Sally Nullens and Emily Philpots and like everyone else I suppose I wanted to be loved.

There was a knock on my door. My mother called softly: “Priscilla.”

I hastily took off the ring and picking up the chain pushed both of them into a drawer.

She came in and I could see that there was something on her mind.

“Not undressed yet.” She smiled at me tenderly. “I love you in that dress. The lace is so soft and feminine. It suits your brown eyes. It is a little too short though … and a little too tight. We must get Chastity to let out a seam and lengthen it. It’s worth it and she could do that quite well. I want Emily to get on with embroidering my petticoat. You’re growing, that’s what it is.” She kissed me. “Priscilla, I want to talk to you.”

My heart started beating uncomfortably. When one is guarding an important secret I suppose there must be these constant alarms.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, don’t look scared. Sit down. Are you all right? You seem a little …”

I looked at her fearfully. “A little what?”

“A little on edge. Are you sure everything is all right?”

“Yes. I’m all right.”

“That’s good. This is rather a delicate matter. I’m not sure how far it has gone.”

“What … matter?” I asked faintly.

“Edwin and Christabel Connalt.”

“Oh,” I said blankly.

“So there is something. It must be stopped.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s most unsuitable.”

“If they love each other …”

“My dear Priscilla, you must not be so childish.”

“Is it childish to believe in love?”

“Of course not. But this governess …”

“Dear Mother, she is a governess because she has to earn her own living. She is well educated. You would not be able to tell her from any people who come here. If Edwin loves her …”

My mother’s face hardened. It was not like her to be harsh or particularly socially conscious. I thought I understood. She was suspicious of Christabel because of the manner in which my father had brought her into the house. If it were in fact the truth that Christabel and my father had been lovers, it was perfectly understandable that my mother would not wish her to marry her son. I did not believe this for one moment—having come to know Christabel—but I had been confirmed in my opinion that it was what some of the servants believed, and if my mother was suspicious, too, that would explain her attitude.

She said: “It will have to be stopped. She will have to go away.”

“Where will she go? You have no idea what the home she came from was like. She has told me about it.” I tried to make my mother see something of what Christabel had told me, and my purpose was to reveal to her how impossible it would be for her to have carried on an affair with my father or anyone from such a place.

My mother, who when she had made up her mind usually had her way, was not listening. I could see that she was determined that Edwin should not marry Christabel.

But it would be for Edwin to decide.

I pointed this out.

“Edwin is sensible,” said my mother. “He has always listened to me.”

“It will depend on what he thinks is sensible,” I retorted. “I know he loves you dearly and will always listen to you, but you see there is Christabel.”

“So this has gone further than I feared. And it is such a short time that they have known each other.”

“Yes, but because of what happened …” I stopped short. How angry Leigh would have been, and how easy it was to betray secrets!

“What happened?”

“Well, I mean Edwin and Leigh came back from service abroad and they looked so splendid in their uniforms … and it was all rather romantic …” I trailed off lamely.

“I just wanted to confirm what Sally Nullens had told me.

“So it was Sally Nullens, was it? That gossiping old woman!”

“You’re being unfair to Sally. She loves Edwin and she worries about him. She doesn’t want to see him caught by an adventuress. He is far too young to marry in any case.”

“He is twenty-one.”

“My dear Priscilla, you are very unworldly. Edwin bears a great name and he must marry in accordance with his position.”

“I am very surprised to hear you talk like this. I never thought you could be hard and ruthless and socially ambitious. You have always been so different.”

“I shall do everything I can to prevent Edwin’s marrying Christabel Connalt,” said my mother firmly.

“Have you spoken to my father about it?” I asked.

Her colour heightened. I knew then. She really believed this story about the reason for my father’s bringing Christabel to the house. It seemed ridiculous. As if he would bring a mistress into the place. It showed that even now my mother was not very sure of him.

She said coldly: “It is not a matter for your father. Edwin is not his son.”

She saw how distressed I was and her mood changed. She became the loving mother I had always known.

“Darling child, you must not distress yourself. I shouldn’t have bothered you but I thought you would know more than most people did, and we don’t have secrets from each other, do we?”

I could not answer that. To have agreed would have been too false. How much easier life had been before I started to grow up.

“Forget it,” she said. “It will soon be Christmas. We must start making plans, mustn’t we?”

I caught her hands. “Please don’t send her away,” I begged. “She would be so miserable. It’s so wretched … that rectory. I don’t believe they really have enough to eat. Please don’t send her away.”

“You have a soft heart, Priscilla, and I wouldn’t have it otherwise. You can rely on me to do the best thing possible for Edwin and for Christabel.”

I threw myself into her arms. I was comforted by her as I always had been. I thought: In time she will accept Christabel. It will all come right.

My mother kissed me and said good night. When she had gone, I sat at my dressing table and looked at my reflection. I wondered if she had noticed a change in me. Perhaps to her I still looked the same girl with the thick straight hair and the rather long brown eyes, the short nose, the wide mouth, the face which owed its attractiveness to its vitality rather than an evenness of feature. I could see a difference though. There were secrets in those eyes where there had been none, a new firmness about the lips. Yes, the last weeks had changed me and it was discernible to those who looked closely.

I hung up my dress—glad to get out of it because it was indeed too tight. A further sign of growing up. I put on my nightdress. Then I remembered the ring and the chain, which I had hastily put into the drawer.

I opened the drawer. There was the chain but I could not see the ring.

It must be there. I took everything out of the drawer and still I could not find it.

But I had put it into the drawer when my mother came in. I was frantic. I knelt down and searched the floor. I could not see it anywhere.

It would be better to search in the daylight. It must have dropped from my hands as I had thought I put it into the drawer. I had certainly done that hastily and it was really the only explanation.

Again and again I went through the contents of the drawer. Gloves, handkerchiefs, collars and frills for cuffs. There was no sign of the ring.

At last I abandoned the search and uneasily went to bed. I could not sleep. I was too upset both by my mother’s attitude and the loss of the ring.

I was up as soon as it was daylight, but although I searched in every place, I could not find it.

There was an uneasy atmosphere throughout the house. I saw my mother in the garden with Edwin. They were talking very earnestly. Later I saw her send off a messenger and I wondered to where.

I was still obsessed by the loss of the ring. I was certain I should find it, for it must be in my bedroom.

At first I thought my mother might have taken it, but that was not possible, for she could not have done so without my seeing her.

I grew frantic searching over and over again.

I did not tell anyone of my loss. Only Leigh and Christabel even knew I had the ring and recognized the danger possessing it offered. It must turn up. I had searched every inch of the floor. It was as though it had been spirited away.

Christabel was growing uneasy. She was aware of my mother’s attitude. Then four days after I had lost the ring Edwin and Leigh received summonses to rejoin their regiment without delay.

I guessed, of course, that my mother had arranged this and that the message she had sent had been a cry for help to one of her many influential friends in Court circles.

They left. Edwin had made no declaration to Christabel and he had looked so wretched before his departure that I knew he was wavering and considering all the disadvantages which my mother must have put to him. I was sure that she had suggested a separation between him and Christabel so that he could consider very carefully what he was proposing to do quietly and calmly. Edwin was the sort of young man who could be persuaded. That he was especially devoted to my mother I had always known and he could never be happy if he displeased her. When he went away without asking Christabel to marry him, knowing Edwin, I guessed he never would.

Poor Christabel! There was a desperate look in her eyes. She was even more unhappy than she had been before Edwin had come.

We began our preparations for Christmas rather halfheartedly. Harriet very often spent that time of year with us or we with her. This year, however, she made excuses and I knew it was because of Jocelyn. When Harriet played a part she did so with all her heart.

Many of my parents’ friends came from Court. They liked to spend Christmas in the country. So there were the usual festivities, and hunting during the day. They were disappointed, though, because the weather was not cold enough to provide skating. There was a great consumption of food, and dancing and games, and everything that we had been doing at that time of the year for as long as I could remember.

Christabel mingled with us as though she were a guest or a member of the family and I was sure many people believed she was.

The Merridews were there and so were the Eghams. My mother said how unfortunate it was that Edwin and Leigh could not be with them. It was too tiresome of Lord Carson—their fierce old General—to send them off abroad on some duty just over the festive season. She would tell him how she appreciated that when she had the chance!

I understood then. She really would thank him when she saw him.

I went to Christabel’s room two or three days after Christmas. It was bedtime and I had thought she looked very sad during the evening.

“I came to see if you were all right,” I said.

She smiled at me wanly. “It is not going to happen, Priscilla,” she answered. “I might have known it was too good to be true.”

I tried to comfort her.

Sometimes I wished that Edwin and Leigh had not come back to stay in the house during my parents’ absence. If my mother had been there she would have seen Edwin’s affection growing and she would have done something about it before it reached that stage.

Then I thought of the ecstasy when Jocelyn had put his ring on my finger and the agonies I had suffered when I had lost it. I was certain that it had fallen down at the back of the court cupboard which was too heavy for me to move. It was the only answer. At least it was out of sight there and safe, for they could not move the cupboard until springtime when they did the annual turning out. By that time perhaps this stupid persecution would be over and it would not matter who saw the ring.

That was how I comforted myself.

There was a letter for me from Harriet.

My dearest Priscilla,

It seems so long since we have met. I do want you to come and stay for a week or so with me. Just you … and perhaps bring that nice Christabel you told me about in your letters. I know your mother will spare you. We are doing a little masquerade. John Frisby, the young man I told you about—the one who is staying here—is so good in his part, and I have one for you, too. I think he may be leaving soon and I should like you to meet him before he goes. Why not come soon? Don’t fail me, dear Priscilla. I am writing to your mother …

I could imagine her. Dear, exciting Harriet, who was the most beautiful and attractive woman I had ever seen. She must have been absolutely irresistible when she was young. When I mentioned this to her once, she laughed and retorted: “My darling, I was never so irresistible as I am now. I have gained experience and I find art quite a good compensation for nature.”

It was true that she painted her face with the consummate skill of an artist and gave an impression of dazzling beauty which could dispense with youth.

It was characteristic of her that she should throw herself wholeheartedly into this rescue. I wondered a little jealously whether Jocelyn had fallen in love with her. Most men did.

I went to my mother and showed her Harriet’s letter.

“You must go, of course,” she said. “It will do you good. You have been looking a little wan lately. You seem as though you are worried about something. Dearest Cilla, don’t fret about Edwin. Bless your kind heart, it will all work out for the best, you will see.”

She kissed me fondly and I clung to her. I had a great impulse to confess everything and to tell her how worried I was about the lost ring and to explain all we had done about Jocelyn.

That would have been folly. I could imagine Leigh’s fury if I had done it.

So I said nothing and just hugged her.

“Harriet and her masquerades!” she went on. “I wonder what it will be this time. I remember long ago before the Restoration when we did Romeo and Juliet. Harriet was a bit of a minx in those days. I wonder if she really has settled down. Gregory adores her, of course, and so does Benjie. She was always a collector of men. I think Leigh is fond of her, too.”

“I know he is. And so am I.”

“Of course he is. She’s his mother and she could even desert a child and still keep his love. Well, you go to her and … yes … take Christabel with you. It will do her good, too. Harriet stimulates people. I wonder what this young actor is like. As I said, Harriet always had a way of collecting men. What are you going to take? You should really have some new clothes now. We’ll talk about that when you come back. I don’t think you’ve finished growing yet. You are going to be a tall young woman, I can see.”

She patted my arm.

My emotions were mixed: pity for Christabel, apprehension about the lost ring, shame for deceiving my beloved mother, and above all excitement at the prospect of seeing Jocelyn again.

It was mid-January when we arrived at Eyot Abbas. It was a fine old house which Gregory Stevens had inherited when his elder brother had died. It was set in beautiful country, much more lush than that about Eversleigh, for it was not pestered by the cold east winds as we were.

The house was set in hilly country about a mile from the sea, which could be glimpsed from the topmost windows. From there, too, it was possible to see the island known as the Eyot from which the house had taken its name. Once it had been quite a large island—large enough to contain a monastery which had been destroyed at the time of the Dissolution. Now the sea had encroached considerably and there were only a few ruins of the monastery remaining. I had been there on several occasions for picnics. It had always seemed a wild and fascinating place, rather eerie; and there were, of course, the usual rumours of lights being seen there and bells heard tolling.

Eyot Abbas was a rambling old house, Elizabethan. It had its share of towers and turrets, and with its red Tudor bricks it was delightfully mellow, set in the luxuriant green of the countryside. The grounds were beautiful and not too well tended. There was a delightful orchard next to the paddock where one could go for solitude. During my visits I liked to take a book there and curl up under my favourite apple tree. I had very happy memories of Eyot Abbas. Everything was easygoing there. Harriet reigned like a queen over the household and the servants all behaved as though it were a privilege to serve her. Gregory never seemed to have recovered from the shock of her having married him. Benjie delighted in teasing her and clearly adored her even though she never worried about him, did not seem to care when he came in wet through after riding and that he nearly shot one of the gardener boys when he was practising archery. He was eleven years old and suffered from no restrictions. Perhaps that was why he was so pleased with life.

There were no tensions in that household. Harriet never treated us any differently from the grown-ups. She would not have age mentioned. It was something she preferred to forget and that suited us all.

When we arrived the grooms were expecting us and they took our horses and the bags from the saddle horse and we went into the house.

Harriet was not at home. She was out riding with her guest.

“You know your room, Mistress Priscilla,” said Mercer, Harriet’s personal maid who had been with her in the theatre. “And I have put Mistress Connalt next to you.”

“That’s good, Mercer,” I replied. “I’ll take Mistress Connalt up.”

We mounted the stairs to our rooms. The colours were very bright. Harriet had refurbished Eyot Abbas when she became its mistress and the colours she had chosen were scarlet, purples and gold. “Trust Harriet to introduce royal colours,” my mother had commented.

My bedroom was in purple—purple hangings on the bed, purple rugs on the floor, purple curtains. The bedspread was of a lilac shade which toned in perfectly. Christabel’s room was in a bluish mauve.

I could see that she was impressed by the richness of everything and delighted to be treated as though she were not a governess. That meant a great deal to her—even more than usual because of what was happening between her and Edwin.

Mercer brought water for us to wash, so we did so and changed; and while this was happening Harriet returned. I heard her voice immediately. It was always like that with her—as though a fanfare of trumpets must greet her arrival.

I ran out of my room to the top of the staircase.

She was in the hall, and beside her, looking even more handsome than I had been imagining him, was Jocelyn. For a few seconds I stood still watching them, my emotions enveloping me.

Then Harriet saw me.

“Ah, my darling child! Priscilla, my love, come down at once. I want to welcome you and introduce you to John Frisby.”

I ran down the stairs. She caught me in her arms and I was wrapped in fragrance.

She looked magnificent in her riding habit. It was pale grey and there was a deep blue cravat at her throat which was the exact colour of her eyes. “I never saw anyone with eyes to match Harriet’s,” my mother had said. “I think they are the secret of her charm.” They were beautiful eyes—deep blue and heavily fringed with black lashes; her brows were black, too, very well defined, and her hair, luxuriantly curly, abundant and springing with life, was very dark, too. It was that contrast of blue eyes and black hair with a fair skin, rather impudent nose and perfect white teeth which made Harriet the beauty she was. But it was her exuberant manner, her displays of affection which she bestowed carelessly on all who wanted them—and that was everyone who came within her orbit—that made her the person she was, one who could commit that which in others would be unforgivable and yet in her would be forgiven.

“Harriet is larger than life,” Mother had said. “She can’t be judged by normal standards.”

And that was true. She was scheming, she was selfish, but she was generous. Her great charm was her vitality, her ability to extricate herself from any awkward situations with little cost to herself, and most of all, perhaps, an interest and excitement in life. She lived it fully and with zest, and those about her were caught up in that. No one could be near Harriet and be dull; and this made everyone want to be near her.

Neither of her sons was legitimate. Leigh had been born to her before she was married. His father had been my mother’s husband, and it said a great deal for Harriet’s charm that my mother, who had been desperately in love with her first husband, now bore no grudge against Harriet. Finding Leigh an impossible encumbrance Harriet had abandoned him when he was a few months old and left him in my mother’s care. Years later she married into the Eversleigh family—an uncle of my father’s much older than herself. Then she had given birth to Benjie, but it turned out he was not the son of her husband but of Gregory Stevens, who was tutoring at the house at that time. Then when her husband died and Gregory came into his title and fortune, she married him, and Benjie’s name was changed from Eversleigh to Stevens, and Harriet emerged as the adored wife and mother.

I was afraid to look at the young man beside her. I said: “Harriet, you look as beautiful as ever.”

“Bless you, dear child. I want you to meet my dear friend, John Frisby. John this is my … well, it’s a complicated relationship and I should need pen and paper to work it out. But I love her dearly all the same and I want you to get to know each other.”

The beautiful blue eyes were mocking as Jocelyn took my hand and kissed it. We smiled at each other and I thought jubilantly: Nothing has changed. It is just as it was. He loves me still.

And I felt wildly happy.

Christabel was coming down the stairs. I saw Harriet appraising her.

I said: “Oh, here is Mistress Connalt. Christabel, this is Lady Stevens.”

Harriet was charming and I saw Christabel flush with pleasure at her reception.

“Welcome, my dear,” said Harriet. “I do like to have young people in the house. Priscilla has told me so much about you. Now come and meet John. He’s longing to know you.”

Harriet whispered to me: “Well done. You play well. We have to be careful. Servants peek and pry, you know.”

“Yes,” I whispered back. “Thank you, Harriet. Oh, thank you.”

She pressed my arm.

“Now, how have you been looked after? Has Mercer given you what you need? I thought you would like Mistress Connalt close by.”

“It was kind of you to ask me,” said Christabel rather stiffly.

“Nonsense. I am delighted. Has Mercer unpacked for you? You must be hungry.”

“Not really,” I replied. “We had a pie and cider at the Stag’s Head.”

“Did you, indeed? Even so we will eat early. John, do go to the kitchens and tell them to put whatever they are cooking forward. We shall eat at six of the clock.”

He bowed. His eyes were on me, warm and dancing with excitement.

“Come, my dears,” said Harriet, “I want to make sure you are comfortable.”

She led the way to my room and ushered us in. She shut the door and leaned against it. Her mood had changed; her eyes flashed with excitement.

“Now … we can talk. We have to be so careful. Servants are everywhere. They have their uses, but in a situation like this they can present difficulties.” She turned to Christabel. “My dear, I am so glad you came. I know of your part in all this … you and those dear boys, Leigh and Edwin. I am sure Leigh was the leading spirit. He was born to be a leader that one. Now to work. My dear Gregory has been such a help. Who would have believed that he would ever be involved in such a matter!” Again to Christabel. “My husband is the mildest of men. He likes to lead a simple and uncomplicated life. But I am afraid I drag him into the most dramatic situations. Darling Gregory! He is so good about it. But you are longing for news of our friend John.”

“Oh, yes, please,” I said fervently.

“And I chatter!” She leaned against the door, her hands pressed against it, looking like a queen of intrigue—which she was, of course. How she loved to play a part! “Now listen to me carefully, my dears. They are looking for John. You must never refer to him as anything but John Frisby in this house … never … never! Gregory has his ears to the ground. He was in London recently. This odious Oates is frightened now that he sees his rule coming to an end, but he is determined to let no victims escape him. He and his friends are furious that our friend got away. Oates harbours some special grudge against the Frintons. He got the father and is determined to wipe out the family—and that means first of all the son. Our John Frisby is in acute danger.”

I caught my breath and put my hand to my throat. Harriet smiled tenderly at me and went on: “I know how you are feeling. I share your anxiety. There is no suspicion in this household at the moment. I am sure of that. But if something should lead them here … Well, they would try and question … and I am not sure that our disguise would stand up to scrutiny.”

“Oh, Harriet, what can we do?”

“You can be sure I would take some action. I have been working on it and I am going to smuggle him to France. I think it is the only thing to be done. We are negotiating now and we hope to have arranged for a boat to take him by the end of the week. I wanted you to come and see him before he went.”

“Harriet,” I cried, “you are marvellous!”

I felt so emotional that I was afraid I would not be able to hold back my tears, so I threw myself at her and buried my face against her.

She touched my hair. I heard her say to Christabel: “This child has always been a special favourite of mine. Her mother did so much for me. It is something one never forgets.”

That helped me a great deal. It made me smile because I knew exactly how she was looking at that moment, posing, of course, as she always did. I often wondered how much of what she said she really meant. It didn’t matter. She was Harriet and she fascinated me completely.

“There now,” she said, when she felt the scene had been played long enough, and I was now in control of my feelings, “we must be practical. You must not take too much notice of John Frisby … and yet on the other hand you must not ignore him. You must be interested, yet not too interested. You must be careful but not obviously so.”

“I think we understand, Lady Stevens,” said Christabel.

“Call me Harriet, my dear. Everybody does.” She turned to me. “I know your mother thinks I am the most unconventional being on earth and perhaps I am, but it does not stop people’s being fond of me. Isn’t that so, dear child?”

“You are the dearest person in the world,” I said with vehement gratitude, “and everybody loves you.”

“You see how this Priscilla flatters me!” She was smiling at Christabel now. “Never mind. It shows that she loves me.

“Oh, Harriet, dear, dear Harriet, how can we thank you for all you have done!”

“I had to do it. Leigh would have wanted to know the reason why if I had not. I am afraid of that forceful son of mine, Christabel.”

“I cannot believe that you would ever be afraid of anything,” answered Christabel.

“Well,” said Harriet, “I must not linger too long. You will want to change and then we’ll dine … without ceremony. Gregory will be back for dinner. He should be in shortly. He is helping with the arrangements to get John out to safety. He can stay in France until this nonsense is over, and Gregory says that will soon be. This time next year he reckons it will be forgotten. Come down when you are changed.” She turned to the door and whispered: “Don’t forget. Careful where John Frisby is concerned. I must go along now and whisper a word of caution in his ear. I thought he looked rather like a lovesick Romeo when his eyes fell on you. Romantic and beautiful to behold but highly undesirable in the circumstances.”

She went out, leaving Christabel and me together.

“What a beautiful woman!” cried Christabel. “I never saw anyone like her before.”

“No one has,” I said. “There never has been anyone like Harriet.”

What a wonderful evening that was! It is one which I shall remember forever. We ate in a small room which was used when the family were alone, as we did at home in the winter parlour. It was lit by candlelight which threw shadows on the tapestries of sylvan scenes which hung on the panelled walls and gave them an air of mystery.

Gregory had returned. He was a tall, quiet man who seemed perpetually surprised at his good fortune in marrying such a dazzling creature as Harriet. He was completely her slave. I was sure that the smuggling of a wanted man to France was something he himself would never have undertaken if it had not been her wish that he should do so. He was the sort of man who would have lived to a set of rules from which he had never diverged until he had met Harriet.

I often wondered why she had married him. But she was fond of him as far as she could be fond of anyone, and it was a singularly successful marriage.

Now he was involved in this matter with her and it was one which could bring trouble to his house, and yet cheerfully he undertook what was expected of him because Harriet was the one who expected it.

He sat at one end of the table, Harriet at the other. She had placed Jocelyn on her right hand, I was on her left, so he and I were opposite and could gaze contentedly at each other throughout the meal.

While the servants were bringing in the dishes and serving us, the conversation was of Court matters. The King was seen everywhere with the Queen, Gregory told us. It was his answer to those who accused her of being concerned in the Popish Plot and of planning the death of her husband.

“Dear good lady,” said Gregory, “it was the most foolish accusation to bring against her. What has she ever been but a good and loyal wife to him?”

“And brought him Bombay and Tangiers into the bargain,” cried Harriet. “My dear Gregory, I could bring you nothing like that.”

“You brought me yourself,” he answered, like the gallant lover he was, “and that was all I wanted.”

She blew a kiss to him across the table. I wondered if she were faithful to him. I knew that she was the sort of woman who would not hesitate to take a lover if the whim came to her. But she would always do it carefully and in a manner to bring the least unhappiness to Gregory. One would always make excuses for Harriet when one was with her. But there was nothing to make excuses for now.

Gregory talked of the theatres and who was playing what and where.

“We’ve never had one to replace Nell Gwyn,” he said. “There are some who regret the King ever saw her and took her away from the stage.”

“I doubt Nelly would agree with that,” put in Harriet. “She has a great gift but I’m not sure that it was for acting. It was the way she laughed, the way she danced … It was inevitable that some connoisseur of women would see that one day. I liked her. Everybody did … except those who were jealous of her. People still like her in spite of her good fortune, for she was never one to give herself airs.”

“She is urging the King to set up a royal hospital at Chelsea for aged and disabled soldiers,” said Gregory. “They say he is interested in the scheme. She is one to ask for others rather than herself.”

“A rare quality,” said Christabel.

“And one to be applauded,” put in Jocelyn.

“We of the theatre owe a great deal to her,” said Harriet with a grimace at Jocelyn.

“Oh, indeed,” agreed Jocelyn, “I remember …”

Harriet silenced him with a look. “For the benefit of anyone with an ear to the keyhole,” she whispered to me, “I have to watch those reminiscences of the theatre in that direction. I couldn’t have chosen a worse profession for him. It was a good thing I arranged that he should be a child actor who did not fulfill his early promise.”

Gregory was saying: “Nelly and Monmouth are not good friends.”

“Of course not,” agreed Harriet. “She thinks he has his eye on the throne and she can’t bear to contemplate his ever reaching it, for that would mean the death of Charles.”

“She has given him a nickname and called him Prince Perkin,” went on Gregory.

“Plainly referring to Perkin Warbeck, who claimed a throne to which he had no right,” added Harriet.

“He retaliated by asking in public how his father can have such a low-bred creature constantly in his company. Then she reminded him that his mother, Lucy Walter, was no better bred than she was. You see, it’s a regular battle between them, though they both stand for the Protestant side.”

“I know she calls herself the Protestant Whore. Forgive me, dear ladies.” Harriet smiled at Christabel and me. “But the Court is far from pure and that means we have to be a little impure when speaking of it. It’s a real turmoil of opinions, and I reckon that when the King does die there’ll be trouble once more. So … a health unto His Majesty.”

The talk went on but what I wanted to hear were the plans for Jocelyn and that, of course, was something which could not be discussed at table. Nor would Harriet allow me to be alone with Jocelyn. She believed at the moment that all was well and that no one suspected that Jocelyn was anything but what he claimed to be; and no one in the household, apart from herself and Gregory, must know that Jocelyn and I had met before.

“We went over to the Eyot a few weeks ago,” she said. “It was a beautifully calm and pleasant day. John knows how to handle a pair of oars with real skill. You could row the ladies over tomorrow, John, if the weather is good.”

“I should love to go,” I said, my eyes shining as I realized Harriet was making our opportunity for us.

“Then we’ll pray for a calm day,” said Harriet. “I’ll have a basket of delicacies prepared for you. There are some really sheltered places among the ruins and you can imagine that the ghosts of the monks are looking after you. Mind you, I don’t think they’ll appear by day, do you, Gregory?”

Gregory said he doubted they appeared even at night, but according to popular belief they did.

I was longing to be alone with Jocelyn, to talk to him, to make our plans. I wondered where he would go when he reached France. I could see how dangerous it was for us to be too much together, or to talk of these matters in the house. I had to behave as though I had never met Jocelyn before and that was not easy.

I was too excited to sleep when I retired to my room. I put on a dressing gown and was combing my hair when I received the first of my visitors. It was Christabel.

She had changed back to the Christabel she had been when she first came to Eversleigh. That radiant girl I had briefly glimpsed had retreated behind the mask, and there she was with her expressionless eyes and that mobile mouth which was a traitor to her.

She sat down. “May I stay and talk just for a few minutes?” she asked.

“But of course.”

“It’s been such a day … strange and exciting. I think Harriet is the most unusual woman I have ever seen. She is absolutely beautiful and so attractive. I was thinking while I was watching her that she is everything that I am not. I realize how gauche and plain I am when I see her.”

“We all feel that beside Harriet.”

“It’s unfair that some of us …” That little quirk of the mouth was obvious though she sought to control it. She went on: “Some people are born with everything and others …”

“Harriet wasn’t. She was poor, I believe. I think my mother said she was the illegitimate daughter of a strolling player and a village girl. My mother said that one could never be sure whether Harriet was romancing. However, I am sure she did make her way in the world.”

“Illegitimate! Harriet!”

“So my mother said. I shall know all about it one day when I read my mother’s journal. Harriet would always get what she wanted though.”

“She has those exceptional good looks.”

“Yes, but it is more than looks. It’s her personality, her vital self. I think she’s wonderful. She can be unscrupulous, but somehow you forgive all that. I suppose anyone would forgive Harriet anything. My mother forgave her long ago. I don’t think my father ever did. He’s different. …”

I paused and Christabel said: “So we are going to the Eyot with Jocelyn tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I replied. “There we shall be able to talk freely. He will be going away soon. Harriet is wonderful to have helped us so much.”

“How lucky you are, Priscilla. Things turn out well for you, don’t they? When I think of what your life must have been like … born into that beautiful household and your mother loving you as she did and old Sally Nullens clucking over you … and then this romantic lover comes along and it all works out beautifully … for you.”

“But he has to go to France. His life is in danger.”

“It’ll be all right … because it’s your life. Some people don’t have the luck.”

The excitement of seeing Jocelyn, my pleasure in being here, was dampened a little. She had reminded me of Edwin’s going away and that my mother had arranged it, as I was sure she had. No, life was not going smoothly for poor Christabel, for Edwin was not the sort to go against convention. He was a young man who wanted to sail through life without conflict. He hated to disappoint people. I think he would rather be disappointed himself.

Christabel said: “I won’t stay. You must be tired. Let’s hope it is fine tomorrow.”

I did not attempt to detain her.

It must have been five minutes later when Harriet came in. She looked strikingly lovely in a loose gown of blue trimmed with yards and yards of ribbon.

“Not asleep?” she said. “I guessed you would not be. Too excited, I’m sure. I am so glad you came before he went. It will give you a little time to be together. Two young people in love! It’s your first love affair, eh? Does your mother know?”

“No. I cannot imagine what she would say. She thinks of me as a child.”

“Darling Arabella! She was always so easily deceived. She didn’t understand me one little bit. But I owe her a great deal. My life took a change when I arrived with a band of strolling players at the chateau where she was in exile. But you’ll know about that one day. I had my first lover when I was about your age … a little younger perhaps; I was living in a large house where my mother was housekeeper-companion to an old squire who adored her, and one of his friends took a fancy to me. He had charm and though he seemed ancient to me, I liked him. Not as romantic as your dear Frisby, of course, but he taught me a great deal about love and life and I have always been grateful to him.”

“It’s like you to be understanding, Harriet,” I said. “You always have been. You see, it happened so suddenly.”

“It often does.”

“We were in the cave …”

“I know. He told me. He adores you. I know exactly what it is like to be young and in love. You must make the most of it, dear child.”

“Harriet, do you think we could possibly marry?”

“Why not?”

“My parents would consider me too young.”

“Girls marry at your age, don’t they? Why shouldn’t you?”

“My father …”

She laughed. “Your father is like so many of his kind. I’ll swear he was adventuring when he was your age. Men such as he is believe there is one law for their sex and another for ours. It is for us to show them that this is not so. I have always snapped my fingers at men like that.”

“I hadn’t seriously thought of marriage … not yet, of course. I thought we might be betrothed.”

“Beware of betrothals followed by separations. They work only in rare cases. However, we have to think of getting him out of the country. That’s the first thing.”

“When, Harriet?”

“Before the week is out. Gregory has made most of the arrangements. It might well be within the next few days. So make the most of tomorrow. You’ll be able to talk in freedom on the Eyot. There’ll be only the gulls and the ghosts for company. Christabel will be there with you as chaperone but send her off to explore the ruins.”

“She will go willingly. She is completely involved.”

“Tell me about Christabel.”

I told her.

“So your father brought her into the house.” A slow smile played about her lips. “What did your mother say to that?”

“She thought Christabel very suitable for the post of governess.”

“Dear Arabella! Well, I’ll tell you something, Priscilla. Mistress Christabel is more than a little envious of you.”

“Envious of me!”

“I sensed it. Where does she come from? That rectory, you say. And her father was the rector.”

“She had a very unhappy childhood.”

“Perhaps that is it,” said Harriet. “Well, my dear Priscilla, it is time you slept. Good night. Bless you.”

She kissed me tenderly.

I slept little. I was too excited and I was looking forward to the next day with such intensity that I found it hard to think of anything else.

I was up early the next morning. There was a faint mist in the air and the previous night’s wind had dropped. It was arranged that we should set out at midday, and Harriet said that a basket of food was being prepared for us.

I was afraid to be too much in Jocelyn’s company for fear I might betray my feelings, and I was longing to be able to throw off this restraint and talk freely.

It must have been soon after eleven o’clock when I went to my room to prepare for the trip. I looked out of the window and saw Christabel in the garden talking to one of the gardeners. They were looking up at the sky and I guessed they were discussing the weather. I had been anxious that nothing should stop our going because I knew that very soon now Jocelyn would be crossing the Channel and then how could I know when I should see him again?

At half-past eleven Christabel came to my room.

“I have such a headache,” she said. “I woke up with it. I was hoping it would pass but I’m afraid it only grows worse.”

I felt apprehensive. Was she suggesting that she felt too unwell to come? There was soon no doubt of this for she went on: “Priscilla, I wonder whether you would mind very much …”

I said quickly: “Of course if you don’t feel well enough to come, you can’t.”

She was deeply concerned. “That it should be now …” she began feebly. This was the first time I had ever heard her speak of an ailment.

“I have had headaches in the past,” she went on. “Awful, blinding headaches. I thought I had grown out of them. The last one came a year or so ago. I had to lie in a darkened room until it passed.”

“Go to your room and lie down now,” I said.

“But I know what store you set on this. You want to be able to talk to him, don’t you?”

“I shall go in any case.”

She looked taken aback. Indeed I was a little amazed myself. A few days ago I should have thought it impossible for me to be alone with a young man. I thought of my conversation with Harriet. Harriet would have gone. She knew how to live. If I did not snatch this chance of being alone with Jocelyn I might regret it all my life.

I had definitely decided to go.

There was no doubt about Jocelyn’s pleasure when I saw him. He was carrying the basket of food and together we walked down to the shore.

“I’m speechless,” he said, “but you know how I feel.”

“I’m sure I feel the same.”

“There is so much to talk about.”

“Let’s wait until we are on the island.”

“No one can hear us now.”

“I shan’t feel we’re safe until we are there,” I said.

We got into the boat. I could see the island but the horizon was obscured by mist.

Jocelyn rowed steadily and within less than half an hour the bottom of the boat was scraping against the sandy shore of the island. As it loomed up before us I had to admit it looked ghostly in the greyish light.

Jocelyn took my hand as he helped me get out. He clung to it for a long time and then kissed it.

I looked over my shoulder furtively and he laughed at me. “There’s no one here but us, Priscilla.”

“I’m so fearful for you.”

“But we’re here … alone.”

“I mean I’m afraid of what’s going to happen.”

He released me to tether the boat. Then we walked up the slope to the ruins of the abbey.

“I shall be going to France shortly,” he said. “I shall be safe there. You must come to me, Priscilla.”

“They’ll never allow me to.”

“I’ve talked it over with Harriet. We could be married. Then you could come with me.”

“My parents would never agree.”

“I meant we would marry and tell them afterwards.”

My happiness was tinged with sorrow. My mother would be so hurt if I acted in such a secretive way. It was hard to explain to Jocelyn how close I had been to her. There was a special relationship between us which was in part due to my father’s indifference towards me. I knew how deeply grieved she would be if I took such a step secretly, for it would mean I was shutting her out of my life.

I shook my head.

“I’m going to tell you all the reasons why that would be the best thing for us to do,” said Jocelyn. “I’ve talked it over with Harriet.”

“Harriet thinks we should marry!” I cried. “She really means we should do it without my parent’s consent!”

“Harriet is a wonderful person. That is the sort of thing she has been doing all her life, and did you ever know a more contented woman?”

“She has been very lucky, I think.”

“She has been bold. She has taken what she wanted from life and been content with it.”

“One cannot always take what one wants. There are others to be considered.”

“There are the two of us.”

“And my mother.”

“She has probably planned some marriage for you. I admit at the moment she would not want to see an alliance between her family and ours. But this madness is going to pass. Then I can tell you the Frintons are not without some standing.”

“Oh, Jocelyn, if only we could!”

“We’re going to talk about it. It’s wonderful that we have this time together.”

“Christabel had a headache. Apparently she has them badly now and then.”

“Kind Christabel! Perhaps she knew how much I wanted to be with you alone.”

We had come to what was left of the wall. We stepped over it. It was an impressive sight—those great stone walls which had once housed the monks now lay in ruins and yet there was enough of the abbey left for one to be able to reconstruct it in the mind. The remains of stone arches through which the grey sky could now be seen left memories of grandeur; here and there were stone flags, some as they must have been before the Dissolution; grass grew in between others. We found a room which was entered through a massive wooden door which had somehow withstood the winds and salt spray of centuries. It was open to the sky, the roof having long ago disappeared, but otherwise it was complete. The long slips of windows looked out on the sea.

“I was fascinated by it all,” said Jocelyn, “when I came over a few days ago for the first time. I thought it would be a good place to hide so I went over it very carefully. You get a certain amount of shelter here in this room, though if there was a strong wind it would whistle through those unglazed windows. I suppose that’s how they were long ago. The monks lived Spartan lives though, and must have been unaffected by the cold.” He turned to me and put his arms about me. “There,” he said, “you feel safe now, don’t you? We’re here alone … you and I on this island. The thought of that thrills me. It has seemed so long, Priscilla, and at times I wondered if I should ever see you again.”

I remembered the ring suddenly and a cold shiver ran through me. I had to confess without delay. I told him what had happened.

“Are you sure it’s behind this court cupboard?”

“Absolutely. There is nowhere else it could possibly be. They move it only once a year. It is very heavy.”

“When you find it, will you wear it?”

“I will. I was afraid to before. That’s really why it was lost. Leigh said that it would arouse comment and it did have your family name inside.”

“Oh, yes, it has been handed down through the family for generations. That’s why I wanted you to have it.”

I felt so relieved that he was not put out about the ring and I told myself that I must set aside my fears and enjoy this day.

“Oh, Jocelyn,” I cried, “isn’t it wonderful to be here … alone together!”

He kissed me tenderly. “And to know we have a few hours here,” he added.

“It is only just past midday,” I said. “What shall we do first?”

“Explore the island and talk and talk. Then we’ll have our picnic and talk some more, and I shall look at you all the time. I want to watch the way you smile. There’s the tiniest dimple at the side of your mouth when you do. I love the way your hair falls back from your face. It’s so different from those hideous curls they call ‘favourites’ at Court. I love your brown eyes, and I think how much more beautiful they are than blue ones.”

“You’re prejudiced,” I said. “I think you only like these things because they’re mine.”

“There could not be a better reason,” he replied.

I think we were both a little afraid of the emotions we aroused in each other. I was happy just to be with him, but I could not forget that he was a hunted man and that this was only a temporary refuge. I was tremendously excited by the thought of getting married. It seemed so impossible and yet why should it be? The circumstances were exceptional. I listened to the melancholy screeching of the gulls. It was as though they were warning me that there was not much time.

If he went to France, I told myself, I could go with him. If we were married I most certainly would. But could I leave my family like that?

I wished that Leigh were there so that I could have talked to him. That struck me as strange, for when I was very young, secretly deep down in my heart I had promised myself that when I grew up I would marry Leigh.

We explored the abbey ruins. We found the refectory and the reading gallery.

“This must have been the chapter house,” said Jocelyn, but I did not think he was very much interested in the ruins. We were both overwhelmed by the significance of our being alone together. I did not know what I wanted to do except cling to him and keep him safe. I wished the boat could come straight to the Eyot and carry us both to France.

There was a strange atmosphere on that lonely island. It was such a still day. The mist hung in wisps which did not move. They looked strange—grey and ghostly.

“There’s the church tower,” I pointed out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the bells started to ring and we saw the black figures of the monks coming in to complines.”

“Not the right time of day,” said Jocelyn promptly, and I remembered then that he was a Catholic and that would be a further reason why my family would be upset. My father was firmly Protestant. Not that he was a truly religious man. Religion with him was a form of politics. I knew that he would not be pleased for me to marry into a prominent Catholic family, and that it should be one which was in danger would infuriate him.

Strangely enough, I thought about him as often as I did about my mother. I pictured myself saying to him: “What does it matter to you? You never cared about me. What difference can it make to you whom I marry?” There was bitterness there. I had cared deeply about his neglect of me. And I still cared.

“Where shall we have our picnic?” asked Jocelyn.

I laughed happily. “I seem to be indulging in more al fresco picnics this winter than I ever did during any summer.”

“I shall never forget the picnic by the cave … you and I together,” he said.

“I don’t think I have ever been so frightened as I was when that dog came into the cave.”

“Neither so frightened nor so happy,” he answered. “I knew you loved me in that moment.”

“I knew it, too. It took danger to reveal it to me.”

“Priscilla, you are very young.”

“I am not too young,” I answered.

Then he turned to me and kissed me with a mingling of tenderness and passion which moved me deeply.

“Shall we go into that room? I think they would have called it the scriptorium. There would be shelter there. I’ll get the rugs out of the boat and we’ll spread them out in the flags there. Then we’ll eat in our roofless heaven. What do you think?”

“It sounds wonderful. Let’s do it.”

We laughed together as I spread the cloth and brought out the cold beef and pies which had been packed for us with the cider to quench our thirst.

“There is ample here,” I said. “Enough for three. Of course some of it was for Christabel.”

“It was good of her to give us this time to ourselves,” said Jocelyn.

“Do you think she did it purposely?”

“I do,” he answered.

I was thoughtful. I was not sure.

We leaned against the wall of the scriptorium and I looked up at the grey mist through what was left of the roof.

“What a strange place this is,” I commented. “The servants say they see lights here at night.”

“Servants will say these things. Are you getting frightened?”

“Not with you here.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You never need be afraid, Priscilla, as long as I am here to protect you.”

“What a comforting thought! Have some more of this pie. It is rather delicious.”

“Harriet has a good cook.”

“Harriet would always have the best of everything.”

“We have every reason to be grateful to her.”

I agreed.

Then we talked about the wonder of our meeting and the glorious possibility of our marrying. I had heard of girls making runaway matches. There had been one big scandal when a girl had run away with a man twenty years older than herself. He was a fortune hunter and it had been too late for her family to stop the marriage. The girl had been only fourteen at the time.

I was fourteen and I was proposing to marry not a fortune hunter but a fugitive.

I couldn’t help it. I was in love. I was going to live my own life. I was sorry because I had to hurt my mother. As for my father he might rave all he liked … but perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he would shrug his shoulders and say, “Well, it is only Priscilla.”

We were so happy talking, making plans—although I wondered whether he felt as I did, that there was something unreal about them and that it was hardly likely that they would ever come to pass.

We would go back to the house. We would tell Harriet that we were going to be married. She would find a priest for us and we would make our vows. Then the boat would come and we would go to France. There would be an outcry against us but in due course the wretched Titus Oates would be seen to be the villain he was and my parents would realize that it was no use continuing to fret about an established fact.

“My mother was exiled in France when she was a girl,” I told Jocelyn. “How strange! It will seem like history repeating itself.”

“This will be rather different.”

“I know. Nothing like this ever happened to anyone before.”

We went on talking of what we would do when we were married. We would explore the fair land of France together and then we would come home and live in his family house in Devonshire which I would learn was the most beautiful county in England. Nowhere else was the grass so green; nowhere else was there that red earth which meant fertility. There the cream was richer, the beef more succulent. “You’ll be a lady of Devon, my dear Priscilla, when you marry me,” he said.

And so we sat there, with his arm about me and I lying close to him while we dreamed an hour or so away.

It was I who noticed that it was growing considerably darker. It could not be much more than three o’clock, and if this were so there should be another hour or so of daylight. Gregory had been warned that we should be back before dark, so we should leave the island by half-past four.

I said: “How dark it has grown. It must be later than we think.”

I stood up and was immediately conscious of the cold dampness of the air.

“It’s the sea mist,” said Jocelyn, and as we went out through the door, it was clear that he was indeed right.

“Why look!” he cried in dismay. “You can only see a few feet ahead.”

I stood beside him and he put his arm about me.

“We couldn’t even see to find the boat,” he went on.

“We’d better try,” I answered.

I tripped over a jutting stone and he caught me in time to prevent my fall.

“We shall have to be careful,” he warned. “You could have hurt yourself badly then.”

“You saved me, Jocelyn.”

“I’ll always be at your side to save you, I trust.”

I took his arm and clung to him. There seemed to be an ominous warning in the air. It was indeed an eerie spot, with the mist enveloping everything and the stark grey ruins around us like the landscape of another world. There was no wind at all—no sound of the sea. It seemed as though Jocelyn and I were alone on another planet.

We looked at each other in dismay as the realization of our position struck us. I saw the moisture on his lashes and brows, and I felt waves of emotion surging over me because it occurred to me then how acute was the danger he was in, and that this time on the island was very precious indeed, for if his enemies captured him they might sever that fair head from his shoulders. Or they would put a rope about it. I had never asked how his father had died. I did not want to know. I wanted to forget it had happened and make Jocelyn forget.

“What are we going to do?” I asked.

“There’s nothing we can do. We’d better get back inside the scriptorium. We’ve got our rugs and at least we shall be sheltered to some extent there. We had no idea how thick the mist was because we were shut in by those four walls.”

“Don’t you think we ought to try to get to the boat?”

“We might not find it and you saw how a moment ago you slipped. It would be difficult to see which way we were going. No, it’s safer to stay here until the mist clears. Even if we found the boat, it would be folly to try to reach the mainland. We might drift right out to sea.”

He was right, of course. We went back to our rugs. It was certainly better within the walls of the scriptorium. We sat down on the rugs and he put an arm about me.

“The Fates are with us,” he said. “Here we are alone … isolated from the rest of the world, shut off by a blanket of mist. Don’t you find that an exciting prospect, Priscilla?”

“Of course, but I am wondering what will happen.”

“They know where we are, and they’ll know what has happened. They won’t be worried about us. They know we’ll have the good sense to stay here until the mist lifts.”

“That could be a very long time, Jocelyn.”

“Hardly likely. The wind will rise soon and carry it away.”

“I wonder what the time is?”

“It’s afternoon.”

“How long were we talking?”

“Does it matter?”

We sat close, leaning against one of the walls, and we talked again of our marriage which should take place without delay when we returned to the mainland. Everything seemed credible there in that quiet atmosphere of strange, whirling mist.

We had no idea what the time was but we realized that it was getting late because it was growing darker and we could not even see the mist. But we were aware of it—damp and clinging. It was growing colder; Jocelyn held me tightly against him.

He said: “Suppose we spent the rest of our lives here? It doesn’t seem such a bad prospect.”

“How could we?”

“We could build a house and grow our own food. We could live the simple life like Adam and Eve.”

“It’s hardly the garden of Eden.”

“It would be paradise for me while you were there.”

It was lovers’ talk. There was no sense in it; yet it soothed and comforted, and there was something inevitable about the mist. We were held here by the forces of nature and we could not be blamed for taking these hours together.

I think that in our hearts there was a sort of desperation, a looming fear that life was not going to be as easy as we had deluded ourselves into believing it would be.

We ate the remains of the picnic; it was dark by now and the mist was more dense. There was a deep silence all around us. It was strange to be so near the sea and not to hear even a murmur.

It was night now and growing colder.

Jocelyn spread out one rug and we lay on it. The other he wrapped round us. He took me into his arms and we lay close together.

I suppose what happened was inevitable. We were young, and there was passion in our blood.

“We shall be together for the rest of our lives,” said Jocelyn. “We are married, you and I, sweet Priscilla. Is a ceremony so important? There will be one when we get back. Immediately we shall be married. We shall tell Harriet and she will help us. You will come to France with me.”

I believed it fervently, because I wanted to.

I did resist a little … at first. It was the thought of my mother. I wished I could forget her. But when I thought of my father, I felt defiant. What had he ever cared for me! Why should I think of him now? But I did think of him with a kind of exultation. I should be married. He would no longer be burdened with a useless girl.

Jocelyn was kissing me fervently.

“Priscilla, sweet Priscilla,” he was saying, “shall I tell you what bliss is? It’s a mist-shrouded island where I am alone with you.”

And there on that island we were lovers in truth.

I was a little bewildered, exalted and exultant. I felt as though I had left all that I had been before behind me. I was no longer Carleton Eversleigh’s daughter. I was Jocelyn Frinton’s wife.

I awoke to hazy sunshine. It was morning. My limbs were stiff with cold. Jocelyn was still sleeping and I was overcome by tenderness as I watched him. He looked so young, so defenceless without his periwig. I thought inconsequently: I know why men wear them. It gives them importance. Without his Jocelyn looked like a beautiful boy.

I leaned over and kissed him.

He caught me in his arms. “My Priscilla,” he murmured and drew me down beside him.

I said: “The morning has come. The mist has almost cleared.”

He sat up. “It’s over then …” He looked at me wonderingly. “Oh, my love,” he went on, “you and I together for the rest of our lives.”

“It has to be a long lifetime,” I said. “Oh, Jocelyn, I’m frightened.”

“Don’t be. I’m determined now … more than I ever was. There are two of us now, my darling. You don’t know what a difference that makes.”

“I do. Because I am one of the two.”

He kissed me.

“We must be going,” I said.

“Just a little while yet.”

“Look at the sun breaking through. They’ll be expecting us.”

“Just a few more minutes,” he pleaded. He held me against him. “My bride,” he went on, “tell me you regret nothing.”

“I regret nothing.”

“We’ll tell Harriet. She’ll help us. She must now.”

“She would in any case. I know what she’ll say. Be bold. Be adventurous. Take what you want and if it doesn’t work out as you had hoped don’t complain. I think that’s her motto.”

“It’s served her well. Darling, don’t let’s go yet. Let us stay awhile …”

I lay down beside him and his arms were tight about me. There was a desperate passion between us as though the daylight were telling us that the dreams that came in the mist might disappear under the searching light of reality.

I raised myself. “We must go,” I said. “It may be they will be looking for us. They’ll know we have not been back all night.”

“Perhaps they won’t. Harriet will see that they won’t.”

I shook my head. “Come, Jocelyn. We must not delay.”

We took the rugs and basket back to the boat. I think we were almost hoping that it would be gone so that we would have an excuse to continue with our island idyll. But it was there just as we had left it. He unmoored it and in a short while we were rowing to the mainland.

He helped me out and tied up the boat. We started to walk towards the house.

We had not gone far when we saw Christabel running towards us. Her eyes were as expressionless as ever, but her mouth showed the stress of great emotion.

“Come in at once,” she said. “There has been trouble. Where have you been?”

“My dear Christabel, surely you were aware of the mist?”

“They said you shouldn’t have gone. You have to leave at once. Harriet and Gregory are quite disturbed. The boat is in … waiting for you. It was there early this morning. Why didn’t you come back sooner? The mist had cleared at dawn. They’re very anxious.”

We started to run towards the house.

As we entered, Gregory came out to meet us.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said. “They’re on the trail. I’ve been warned. You have to get going without delay. They could be here at any minute.”

Harriet came into the hall, looking like the heroine in a play of adventure.

“My dear boy,” she cried dramatically, “you must go at once. You should have left at dawn. There isn’t a moment to lose. Go at once. That’s so, eh, Gregory?”

Jocelyn said: “I’ll get my things together. I’ll change quickly.”

“Your things are ready,” replied Harriet. “I have them waiting. You can change in France.”

Gregory said: “You must get out of the house quickly or we shall all be involved. Harriet’s right. There’s not a moment to lose. A few of your things are here in a bag. Get down to the shore as fast as you can. You know Lime Cove. That’s where the boat is. Get in and get off as fast as you can.”

I said: “I must go …”

“You must come with me, my child,” replied Harriet. “You are cold right through. The mist is dangerous and you have been out in it all night. Go now, dear boy, and God be with you.”

That was how it happened. He had to go straight down to the cove and he had to go alone.

There at the cove his enemies were waiting for him. They seized him as he was making his way to the boat.

One of the servants told us that he had been seen, hands tied, riding on a horse in the midst of a company of soldiers who were taking him back to London.

The weeks which followed were the most wretchedly tragic in my life up to that time, for it soon became clear that I should never be Jocelyn’s wife. His trial was brief; his sentence was carried out almost immediately. His guilt was clear, they said. Why else should he have run away? I had nightmares. I dreamed I was there at the scaffold when he laid his fair head on the block. In my dreams I saw the executioner’s bloody hands as he held up that beloved head now severed from the body which I had loved.

I was stunned. There could never have been such misery as I was suffering. Jocelyn … dead! Never to see him again! Never to feel his arms about me!

How I wished I had been beside him. I wished they had taken me with him. I wished that I had died beside him, for there seemed no point in living on without him.

How quickly everything could change! I had been so happy. I had dreamed of our going to France together, living there so blissfully happy, and coming back later … husband and wife.

I should never know peace again. I had lost my dear one. My life was finished. There could never be any happiness for me again.

I could not eat. I could sleep only fitfully and then I was haunted by nightmares. In these I was at the scaffold. I saw the executioner with that beautiful, well-loved head in his hands—a head without a body. The voice echoed through my dreams: “Behold the head of a traitor.”

He was no traitor. He was just a good, kind man … the man I loved.

I thought: My life is finished. I shall never be happy again.

Harriet was wonderful to me. She looked after me through those weeks. She would not allow me to return home.

Gradually I learned what had happened and it did not relieve my misery to know that I was responsible for his capture.

It was Harriet who broke it to me. “You’ll have to know how they were led to him,” she said. “Now you mustn’t blame yourself in any way. You gave him the greatest happiness any one person can give another. I know that. You loved him and he loved you. So you must not fret. You will grow out of this. One does. You remember the ring he gave you … plighting your troth?”

“The ring!” I cried. “Yes, the ring. It will be there beneath the court cupboard. I shall treasure it forever.”

“You will never see it again, my child.”

“What do you mean, Harriet?”

“It was not behind the cupboard.”

“Then it was found! But it couldn’t have been. I searched everywhere.”

“Your mother has told me what happened. She took a dress from the cupboard and gave it to Chastity to lengthen or alter in some way. Chastity was to take it home with her. She went into the kitchen to have a word with her mother. The dress was over her arm, I imagine. There was a ring caught up in the lace.”

I felt sick with misery. Why had I not examined the dress! Why had I been so foolish, so careless as to have deluded myself into thinking the ring had fallen behind the cupboard!

“Jasper was in the kitchen at the time,” went on Harriet.

“Oh, no, no no!” I cried.

“Alas, yes. He seized the ring. He thinks all such baubles sinful. He examined it, saw the crest and the name inside. Then it was remembered that food had disappeared from the pantry … and conclusions were drawn. He told no one in the house what he intended to do. He took the ring to London and went to see Titus Oates.”

“I hate Jasper,” I cried. “I hate his black, bigoted soul.”

“He said he was doing his duty. Of course you can guess what happened. You were under suspicion immediately. Your parents did not know about it then because Jasper had acted without telling anyone. Oates’s men wanted to know where you had gone and that led them here. They have been asking questions in the neighbourhood. They discovered that a young actor calling himself John Frisby was here. The description fitted Jocelyn.”

“Did they come here, Harriet?”

“They did not because I had friends who did not wish to involve me. So they took him after he had left, and there have been no inquiries about our involvement. I daresay your father had something to do with it, too. You are only a child so they would not be harsh with you … particularly when you have a father who is so friendly with the King. So, dear Priscilla, this tragedy has struck you. You have lost your first lover but you must learn that life goes on. You are so young. You do not yet really know what it means to love.”

“I do, Harriet. Oh, I do.”

She took my hands and looked at me searchingly. “My poor child,” was all she said. Then she put her arms about me gently, as though I were a baby.

“You know you have me always, Priscilla,” she said.

“Yes, I know it.”

“Now you must not fret.”

“I shall never forget that it was my carelessness which brought them to him.”

“He should never have given you the ring in the first place. He brought it on himself. It was too obvious a form of identification. But it is done. Dear Priscilla, in time you will have to go home. They will expect it.”

“I know, Harriet. I wish I could stay with you.”

“You must come back soon.”

“At home … they know …”

“They know, of course, that he gave you the ring.”

“My father will be very angry.”

“He has had his adventures. He has done what he wanted to. And so have you. As for helping the fugitive, you were not the only one, were you? Leigh, Edwin, myself … we were all involved.”

“Oh, Harriet, you are so good!”

She laughed. “You might find a number of people to disagree with you on that point. A good woman is a compliment rarely applied to me. But I know how to live, how to enjoy life. I don’t want trouble for myself, nor for others. Perhaps that is rather a good way of living—so I may be good after all.”

I clung to her, for into my misery had crept a new emotion: a dread of going home. But I realized I had to face it.

I would soon be fifteen years old and I had already had a lover. Was that so unusual? He would have been my husband had he lived.

I shall never marry now, I thought. I have been married all but ceremonially to the one I loved and whom I shall love forever.

Christabel was with me a great deal. She seemed to have grown more fond of me in my misfortune. Perhaps those hard days at the rectory and Edwin’s lack of purpose seemed less tragic now that she could compare her lot with mine.

On the day before we were due to leave for Eversleigh, I went down to the gardens and walked round. There was a faint mist in the air which reminded me of that other day.

One of the gardeners was digging, and as I approached he leaned on his spade and looked in my direction.

“Good day to you, Mistress Priscilla,” he said.

I returned his greeting.

“You be. leaving us I hear, mistress.”

“Yes,” I said.

“’Twere a sad matter,” he went on. “There’s many of us here as would like to see that Titus Oates get a taste of his own medicine, that we would. Oh, yes, ’twere a terrible business. If only the mist hadn’t come up so bad you’d a been back that day and your gentleman would have been over the seas afore they got here. Why did you go out, mistress, when I warned you?”

“Warned me? Warned me of what?”

“I’ve lived in these parts all my life and that’s nigh on fifty years. I can tell what the weather’s going to be … and never wrong … well once or twice maybe. I said there’ll be heavy mist long before nightfall. Unless the wind comes up sudden … which it can do, winds being something you can’t count on. Given no wind, though, that mist will be in from the sea and Eyot will be wrapped up in it. ‘Don’t you go out today, mistress,’ I said.”

“You didn’t tell me. I didn’t see you on that day.”

“No. ’Twas the other one. She were going, weren’t she? There was to be the three. Mary said she’d make a hamper for three.”

So he had told Christabel!

“Yes, I see that we shouldn’t have gone,” I said. “Good day to you, Jem.”

“Good day to you, mistress. And I’ll look to see you again in happier times.”

I went into the house. I wondered why Christabel had not told me that she had been warned about the mist. How very strange.

Of course she had a raging headache. Perhaps it had made her forget. Hardly that, though, when the headache was the reason why she had decided not to come. Surely the thought of our going must have reminded her.

It seemed strange, so I sought her out at once and asked her.

She flushed painfully and her mouth moved with emotion.

“I have suffered such remorse,” she said. “I did see Jem and he did mention the mist. My head was throbbing. I only remembered it when you didn’t come back. I feel responsible …”

“It’s no use worrying now,” I said. “It’s over and done. He is dead. He is lost to me forever.”

“But if you had not gone to the island he would have got away in time.”

“Yes. If I had not lost the ring … If I had not taken it in the first place … So many ifs, Christabel. But what is the use of all this remorse? It’s over. There is no going back. I have lost him forever.”

My father was away when I returned to Eversleigh Court. I think my mother was relieved. She was anxious and sympathetic, I knew, but at the same time deeply shocked that I could have become so involved in such a dangerous situation without her knowledge.

The very first day she sought an opportunity to be alone with me and she wanted to hear everything that had happened. I was so distressed that I found it difficult to talk at first.

I could only keep saying: “I loved him. I loved him. And now they have killed him.”

She took me into her embrace as she used to when I was very young, but I did not feel comforted, only impatient. It was almost as though she thought it was a matter of “kiss and make better” as it had been when I had fallen and scratched myself.

“Dearest Cilla,” she murmured, “you are young … so young.”

I wanted to shake myself free of her. I wanted to say: I am not young. I am grown up. Some people are, you know, at fifteen—and I am nearly that. I have loved. I have lived. And I am not a child anymore.

She went on talking. “It seemed very romantic. He was very good-looking, I believe. And the way he came here … He had no right to come.”

“He was looking for Edwin. Edwin was his friend.”

“Edwin should not have tried to hide him.”

“What should he have done? Given him up to that brute Titus Oates?”

She was silent, stroking my hair.

“You know your father is most put out. You know his feelings.”

“He has never shown me much of his feelings,” I said. “All he showed me was indifference.”

“My dear child …”

I cried: “It’s no use talking to you. You don’t understand. Jocelyn came here. We helped him. We’re not ashamed of it. We’d do it again … all of us. He and I fell in love. We planned to marry.”

“Oh, my darling! But it’s all over now. We must try to make you forget.”

“Do you think I shall ever forget!”

“Yes, my dearest, you will. I know how it feels now.”

“You do not know and I wish you would stop talking about it. I have nothing to say to you. You don’t understand in the least. Harriet …”

“Harriet, of course, understood perfectly.”

“Harriet was wonderful to me.”

“And kept him there and sent for you! It’s what one would expect of Harriet. She is completely without thought for others.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Oh, she fascinates you as she does everyone else. I know that.”

“Harriet has been kind to me. I shall never forget what she has done for me. Please, Mother, leave me alone. I want to be by myself.”

The reproachful look she gave me touched me deeply and I threw myself into her arms. She did not say anything. She just held me and it was as it had always been between us.

Carl was very upset by what had happened. It was his first experience of real grief and I loved him for it. He just looked at me blankly and said: “They can’t have done that to Jocelyn!”

I turned away and he came and took my hand and pressed it.

“I wish I’d been there,” he said. “I wouldn’t have let it happen. You ought to have told me he was with Aunt Harriet.”

“There was nothing you could have done, Carl, nothing.”

“I hate Titus Oates.”

“So do countless others.”

Oddly enough Carl comforted me more than my mother had been able to.

My father returned and he was very cool towards me. He hardly addressed me at all during the first evening. During the next day I went into the gardens and he followed me there.

“A nice mess you got yourself into,” he said.

I looked at him defiantly. “In what way?” I asked.

“Don’t be silly. You know what I’m talking about. This romantic adventure of yours. Fools … the whole lot of you. You particularly. Taking an incriminating ring and then leaving it for others to find.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I retorted.

“One would have to be half-witted not to. A pretty young man comes along and you think it would be great fun to hide him and feed him and accept a ring from him with his crest and name on it. And he is suspected of taking part in a plot against the King’s life.”

“You know very well that there was no plot. You know it was fabricated by this friend of yours … this Titus Oates.”

He seized me by the wrist and I cried out in pain. His grip was like iron.

“He is no friend of mine,” he said. “I despise the man. But I have the sense not to entertain those against whom he brings accusations. Who can say who will be the next? And, by God, we might have been! You could have put the whole family into danger. It has not been easy extricating you, I can tell you. All this trouble because of a silly girl’s prank.”

“It was no prank.” I jerked myself free. “And I would do it again.”

“I shall have something to say to the others when I see them. If they want to risk their lives that’s their own affair, but they should not have involved a foolish girl who could bring trouble tumbling about our ears with great risk to our necks, I might tell you.”

“So you blame me for everything?”

“If you had taken his ring you should at least have kept it hidden.”

“It was an accident.”

He laughed. “I’m sure it was. Now a word in your ear. If you attempt any more of these follies don’t rely on me to get you out of them.”

“I’m surprised that you bothered.”

“It was necessary to save us all.”

I turned away and ran into the house. I shut myself in my room. I had never felt so unhappy in all my life. If only he had given me one word of tenderness. If only he had been concerned for me! But he had made me feel that had I alone been involved he would not have taken the trouble to save me.

He had looked at me with a certain contempt and I wondered why a man such as he was who was fond of women—some said too fond—should find nothing to care about in his own daughter. I wondered what he would say if he knew the extent to which I had been involved with Jocelyn. He would be horrified, I was sure. Yet according to what I had gathered he had had adventures at a very early age. What was natural for him and those who shared his pleasures was shocking in his daughter. This was strange, for he was a logical man in other matters.

A few days passed, and when the possibility that I might be going to have a child came to me I was jerked out of my misery momentarily. I had not thought of this. I had been so wrapped up in my grief. Now I was faced with a problem. If it were to be so, what should I do?

I could not marry because the father of my child was dead. I did not want to tell my mother. I could not bear to think what my father’s reaction would be. If Leigh or Edwin were here I might confide in them. They would help me, both of them. But they were far away and I did not even know where.

My emotions were in turmoil. I did not know whether I was glad or not that this had happened. I was filled at one moment with the wonder of it and the next with a fearful foreboding.

A child—the result of that night we had spent on the mist-shrouded island! Our wedding night, Jocelyn had called it. And our marriage was to have taken place as soon as we returned to the mainland.

Oddly enough a change had settled on me. I was more serene, which seemed strange in view of the enormity of the problem which was arising before me. It was almost as though Jocelyn were speaking to me from beyond the grave in which they had laid his poor mutilated body.

Then I was certain. It was to be.

I tried to work out what I must do. I needed help, but I did not want my mother to know. As to my father—I shivered at the thought. I could not talk to Christabel. Since our return I had avoided her. I kept wondering why she had not told me that it would be dangerous to go to the island and I could not completely convince myself that she had forgotten. She had played a big part in the tragedy and I felt unsure of everyone, including myself.

There was, of course, Harriet. I wrote to her, carefully disguising what was wrong but wondering whether a woman of her worldliness might guess. I had to see her, I said. I wanted to talk to her, as I could not talk to anyone else. Would she invite me please?

Her response was immediate.

My mother came to my room holding a letter in her hand. “It’s from Harriet,” she said. “She wants you to go over for a visit. She thinks it would be good for you. Would you like to go?”

“Oh, yes,” I said fervently.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea.”

“I should like to get away for a while.”

She looked at me sadly, and I went on angrily: “I think my father would be delighted not to have to see me.”

“Oh, Priscilla, you must not say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“It is not true.”

“It is. Why do we have to pretend? He has never wanted me. I was of the wrong sex. He wanted a boy who would be just like himself. I am expected to go through my life apologizing for not being a boy.”

“You are overwrought, my dearest.”

“Yes, I should like to go away,” I said firmly.

I could see how hurt she was and I was sorry.

She put her arm about me and I was stiff and unyielding. She sighed and said: “Christabel should go with you.”

I did not protest although I would rather have gone alone.

At Eyot Abbas, Harriet greeted me warmly.

“I was afraid you would not want to come here again,” she said. “I feared it might bring it all back too clearly.”

“I had to come,” I told her. “And I want to remember … I want to remember every minute.”

“Of course you do.”

Harriet greeted Christabel with warmth but I did not think she greatly liked her. Harriet was a superb actress though, and one could never be sure.

I knew it would not be long before we were alone together and Harriet soon contrived that. I had been in my room only five minutes when she arrived. She had given Christabel a room on the next floor and I guessed there had been a purpose in this. Harriet anticipated many an uninterrupted talk.

She came in conspiratorially, her lovely eyes alight with speculation.

“Tell me, my dear, just tell me.”

“I am going to have a child,” I said.

“Yes. I thought that was it. Well, Priscilla, we must see what can be done. There are people who can be of assistance.”

“You mean get rid of it. I don’t want that, Harriet. I should hate it.”

“I thought so. Well, what do you propose? What will your parents say?”

“They’ll be horrified. My father will be quite contemptuous.”

“He would. Having himself played the masculine role in dramas of this nature, he would be deeply horrified at his daughter’s taking the feminine one. Such men always are. I want to snap my fingers at them.”

“You don’t like him, Harriet, I know. He is one of the few people I have heard you speak quite vehemently against.”

“No, I don’t like him. To be perfectly honest I think it’s because he never liked me.”

“All men like you, Harriet.”

“Most of them,” she agreed. “He hardly looked at me. He was all for your mother. She was the one he wanted.”

“I know he has a very special feeling for her. I wish they were more gentle with each other.”

“He’s not the kind. But what are we doing talking of him? We have our problem.”

It was typical of Harriet that she should call it “our problem.” That was the charm of her. She was not in the least shocked and she was going to summon all her ingenuity to help me.

I felt the tears come to my eyes and she, seeing them, patted my hand and said practically: “We’ve got to get down to serious planning. You’re sure, are you?”

“Yes.”

“And you are going to keep the child?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Have you thought what this will mean? The child will always be there in your life. You see, this matter does not now end with Jocelyn’s death. He will always be there through this child. Now, you have your own life before you. It has scarcely begun. You should ask yourself whether you want this child to be there for the rest of your life. It is possible to get rid of it. I know how that can be done, but it will have to be now. It is dangerous later. In fact it could be dangerous now. I hope you won’t want to do it, Priscilla. But if you decide …”

“I couldn’t. I want the child. It has already made a difference to me. I no longer feel as though I died with him. I now feel there is something for me in the future.”

“Very well, that’s settled. But what are we going to do? Are we going to tell your parents?”

“I don’t want to. I’d rather go away.”

“Does anyone else know this? Does Christabel?”

“No. No one.”

“So at the moment it is our secret … yours and mine.”

I nodded.

“You could go to your mother and tell her. She would consult your father. They might decide on two alternatives: to send you away where you could have your child in secret and then get it adopted, or marry you off to some willing young man who will take you for a price and it will be pretended that your child was born prematurely. No one will believe it, of course, but it helps the conventions. Do either of these prospects appeal to you?”

“I wouldn’t agree to either.”

She smiled at me. “You are a very determined young woman, Priscilla. I understand your feelings. Now when I had Leigh I had no such fine feelings. You see how much easier it is for a woman like me. I’m bold and I snap my fingers in the face of convention and everyone thinks I am rather a wicked woman. But I get along very well. I have been thinking about you so much. I shall never forget your dear stricken face when you heard the news. I knew what had happened on the island. It is often easy to see in a young girl’s face when she has taken a lover. I saw it in yours and I was glad for you. He was a charming boy and young love is beautiful. Well, now it is over and I do not regret it. You have had a taste of life and found it first sweet, then bitter. But that is life, my dear. I must stop philosophizing and we must plan.”

“You are going to help me, Harriet, I know.”

“Of course I am going to help you. You have always been dear to me. I am very fond of your mother. I have treated her badly at times. It was wicked of me, was it not, to go off with a lover and leave little Leigh—my own child—for her to look after? I was trapped, though. Her parents knew me for the adventuress I was and so did the Eversleighs. They didn’t know then that Leigh was an Eversleigh. They had pinned that indiscretion on some poor, defenceless young man. Oh, it is so complicated and when you read about it you will understand, perhaps. You may not like me much then. I come out in a very bad light.”

“I shall always love you whatever the lighting is like.”

“Bless you, child. But let us be serious and clever. We have to be, you know, for this is a mighty problem.”

“Harriet, what can I do?”

“An idea came to me when I received your letter because, as I said, I guessed at once what your dilemma was. Would you be prepared to deceive your mother?”

“I don’t understand, Harriet.”

“If your mother knows, so will your father, and I gather you don’t want him to.”

“I dread that more than anything.”

“You are very close to him in a way, Priscilla.”

“I! Close to him! He doesn’t care anything for me.”

“Perhaps that’s why you care so much about him. You want him to love you. You always did. You admire him. Oh, yes, you do. He is the sort of man women admire. Strong, ruthless, virile … completely a man, if you know what I mean. I can assure you that my quiet and loving Gregory is easier to live with. I myself have felt the attraction your father exerts over women. I am not indifferent to him. Oh, understand me, I have no designs on him. I would like to score over him, to snap my fingers at him. I like the fact that his daughter should come to me for help and that I should know what is happening while he remains in ignorance of it. I am talking a lot of nonsense.”

“No. You’re talking sense. I understand, and I think you realize my relationship with him better than anyone else ever has … more than I do myself. I could not bear him to know what has happened. He is the sort of man who would shrug his shoulders if he knew we had been lovers, but rant and rage against me if I were to have a child. I could not bear him to know.”

“Then my plan might appeal to you.”

“Harriet, tell me.”

“It may not work. It is rather wild. It will need a great deal of careful planning … a certain intrigue.”

“And you love intrigue.”

“Working it out, yes. The carrying it out is going to make life very interesting in the next year.”

“You’re keeping me in suspense.”

“It is very simple. I will be the mother of the child, not you.”

“How could that possibly be!”

“I am not sure yet. I have to work it out. Gregory would be in the secret of course. It would be impossible if he were not. He will be the father.”

“Harriet, what are you saying!”

“Now don’t dismiss it. Don’t be one of those people who see defeat everywhere before they have explored the possibility of success. You will have to spend a lot of time with me. Why not? I will tell them that you are in need of a change of scene. You are not well. You are fading away. I will take you away with me for a few months. Then we will go to France … to Italy … Benjie is going away to school. That helps. I shall miss him. So you and I will travel. It is just what we both need. When we have left I will write to your mother and tell her that Gregory and I are in a state of bliss because we are going to have a child. I, who had thought my childbearing days were over! You must be my companion during those waiting months. In due course my/your child will be born and we shall return to England.”

“Harriet! What an idea!”

“I can see nothing wrong with it, if we play our cards well. And we shall, never fear. I have played a great many parts and I shall play this one with my usual skill. You will do well, too.”

“And when we return to England?”

“The child will live at Eyot Abbas and you will be devoted to it. You will love it as your own and I shall laugh with your mother and tell her that I believe my little Gregory or Harriet, whichever it is, has given you a new interest in life. You will come and stay with me more and more and no one need ever know the truth unless you wish them to.”

I went to her and hugged her. “Oh, Harriet, you think of the most fantastic ideas!”

“They work—and so will this. The most difficult part, I believe, is now. You’ll have to go back to Eversleigh. Then we’ll start planning. I don’t want you there too long. You have a household of prying servants. No one must guess your condition, no one. No one knows as yet. Let us keep it that way. Don’t tell anyone.”

“I was wondering about Christabel. If I come to you …”

“Christabel should not come. The fewer people who are in a secret the safer it is. Christabel will have to go.”

“She comes from a wretched home. She is always afraid that she will be sent back there.”

“I shall have to think about her. I am a little unsure of her. The way in which she came into the house is a little mysterious and she is not treated like a governess, is she? At the moment not a word to her. This is a secret … yours and mine. I shall start working on what we must do. In the meantime you will have to be on your guard. The servants must not guess. You have that hell-raising Jasper and his ninny of a wife and their chaste daughter. You must take special care. I shall not write anything of this to you. It is never safe to put things on paper. I shall in due course ask you to come and visit me. And I will prepare the way.”

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“I feel so much better,” I said. “It is wonderful to know that you are here.”

“We’ll do it; I am so excited. I feel pregnant already. I am so looking forward to this child. And dearest Priscilla, you and I will play this to perfection. Remember this: you are not alone.”

I was caught up in the excitement of it. It was the best thing that had happened to me since Jocelyn’s death. I felt that he was watching over me and that he had given me this to help me over my sorrow.

Harriet and I talked constantly about our plan during that visit. Then I returned to Eversleigh.