The love child

A Visit to London

NOW OUR LIVES HAD set to a pattern. Leigh continued in the army and we waited eagerly for those times when we could be together. The children were growing up. Damaris was six years old; Carlotta, thirteen. I was twenty-eight years old.

“There is plenty of time to have more children,” said my mother.

She was contented. My father was at home and she was glad that he was getting old.

“Too old for adventures,” she said with a chuckle.

But my father was the sort who would always be ready for adventure, as Leigh was. My mother and I were closer than we had ever been. We shared each other’s anxieties. She told me what a comfort I had always been to her. “Though when you were born,” she said, “I was disappointed because you weren’t a boy. But only for your father’s sake, of course. He always wanted boys.”

“I know,” I said, with a trace of bitterness, “he made that clear.”

“Some men are like that,” replied my mother. “They think the world is made for men … and so it is in many ways. But some of them can’t do without us.”

I felt very tender towards her. Beside her, I felt worldly beyond imagining. She had lost her first husband when he was very young and had lamented for him over many years, deceived into thinking that he was the perfect gentle knight when, all the time he had been professing devotion to her, he had been Harriet’s lover. Yet my mother had overcome that to walk into a lifelong romance with my father. In a way life had protected her as it never had me. I had loved and borne a child out of wedlock; I had been caught up in intrigue and had spent such a night with a man who seemed to me like a monster of iniquity; and now I was living the quiet country life like a matron who has never strayed from the conventional paths. There was so much which I could not explain to my mother.

But now we both feared for the men we loved and that brought us together. There were times when I almost told her what had happened to me, but I restrained myself in time.

So, there were those occasions when Leigh came home and we planned for the future, but although I longed for him while he was away, when we were together we never quite reached that blissful contentment which I knew should have been ours. Always the memory of Beaumont Granville would be there to torment me, to jeer at me, to remind me of my humiliating submission. If I could have disguised this from Leigh I should have been happier, but he was aware that something was between us and deeply hurt by it; and I began to fear that in time it could corrode our relationship and ruin our marriage.

Damaris was a quiet, reflective child. She was clever at her lessons and Emily’s favourite. I was glad of that. Emily’s devotion to Carlotta had waned a little, which was largely due to the behaviour of Carlotta.

Carlotta was wild, impetuous, given to flashes of temper when she would say whatever came into her mind. Damaris was gentle and never hurt anyone. I remember the day during a very hot summer when she came running to me in great distress, telling me that the poor world was broken. She had seen cracks in the parched soil and it had distressed her because she thought that anything which was broken must be painful. She loved animals and more than once had brought me a wounded bird to heal. One was a gull she had found on the beach. “It had a broken wing,” she cried, “and the others were pecking at it.”

Damaris was a pretty child, but before the blazing good looks of Carlotta, any child must seem insignificant.

There was no doubt that Carlotta was going to be a great beauty. She had never gone through any plain stages as so many beauties-to-be do. That outstanding colouring was always there. The soft, dark, curling hair and the vivid blue eyes. Her hair was not as dark as Harriet’s and her eyes were of a lighter blue. I had only seen one person with those violet eyes and near black hair and that was Harriet herself. But Carlotta had the same sort of beauty, and many people remarked that Carlotta took after her mother, which never failed to amuse Harriet.

Carlotta at thirteen was well formed, in advance of most girls of her age. She had been born with the art of attracting people, and I had to confess this gave me some cause for alarm. She was a little like my grandmother, Bersaba Tolworthy. They had something apart from beauty which drew men to them. Harriet had it even now when she was a little plump, and my grandmother had retained it all her life.

Carlotta was often at Eyot Abbas. She was very fond of Harriet, still believing her to be her mother. But it was not so much this supposed relationship which held them together as the fact that they were two of a kind. Harriet gave entertainments at her house and often staged plays. Carlotta always wanted the chief part in these and Harriet was content to give these to her.

“For the sake of the play,” she said. “Carlotta should have gone on the stage. Of course it’s looks mostly. She would have brought them in! If King Charles were alive he would move heaven and earth to get that one into his bed.” She laughed at me. “Now you are looking like Prim Priscilla. That child will have lovers, mark my words. What we have to make sure of is that it doesn’t happen too soon and with the wrong one.”

Carlotta had escaped from Emily Philpot’s jurisdiction and we had engaged a governess for her, a pleasant young woman who, like Christabel, had come from a vicarage. “Always the best background,” said my mother.

So Amelia Garston entered our household, and Carlotta spent certain reluctant hours in the schoolroom. Emily did not resent this because she had long realized that Carlotta was too much for her to handle, and in any case she had my dear, gentle Damaris, who responded so cleverly to learning and was a good child into the bargain.

Carlotta never liked to be in one place too long. She visited Christabel now and then. Young Thomas adored her, in common with other members of his sex. I liked going to Grassland Manor. It was such a happy household. I had never seen anyone change as Christabel had, and the change never failed to delight me. Envy had spoiled her life and now it had completely disappeared. She was deeply contented.

She admitted to me once that there was nothing more she wanted, then she qualified that. “Yes, just one thing. I’d like to have another child. Thomas would love another. Of course, we are lucky to have young Thomas—who is the most wonderful child in the world, although I don’t expect you to agree with me—but I should like to have given Thomas several more children.”

“Perhaps you will,” I said.

“No.” She shook her head. “You know I nearly died with Thomas. The doctor said that to have another would be dangerous. I think my dear husband would rather have me than another child … even if I could have it.”

“I’m sure of that.”

“I’m so glad it turned out the way it did, though I don’t deserve it. I really don’t.”

“I never heard such nonsense,” I said; and she just smiled at me and shook her head.

Carlotta was a frequent visitor at Enderby Hall. She had completely charmed Robert Frinton and I was glad that she went to see him, for he was a lonely old man. I often wondered what he would say if he knew of the relationship between them. I was sure he would be pleased.

He had made a habitable residence of Enderby Hall but he never quite succeeded in dispelling the gloom. I could never enter that hall without feeling a faint twinge of apprehension, and on the rare occasions when I had been there alone, I would find myself taking furtive looks over my shoulder because I felt I was being watched.

He had brought a small staff of servants with him and lived quite simply. He often visited us, for my mother was constantly inviting him. I noticed that as soon as he arrived he would look round for Carlotta, and if she were not present—for she often decided that she would go and stay with Harriet—he would be unable to hide his disappointment.

Of course Carlotta was wayward and bent on having her own way, but she only had to smile at us and we were her slaves. All except Harriet, who made no attempt to please her and somehow managed to do it as well as any of us could.

It was a sunny day in the June of the year 1695 when Harriet and I sat in the gardens of Eyot Abbas overlooking the sea, and as I made out the island just rising out of the sea mist, I remembered, as I could never fail to, that night I had spent there with Carlotta’s father. I thought of my youth, my innocence and the tenderness of our love, so beautiful in itself and the beginning of everything which had happened afterwards, culminating in that night of horror which still haunted my dreams and coloured my life. It was like a black cloud, ever present, menacing my happiness.

Leigh and I were, of course, happy together, but the complete intimacy for which we both longed still eluded us. It was a mystery to Leigh, but I knew full well what it was. I could never feel completely at peace while the memory lay between us.

I knew Leigh well—the kindest of men where his loved ones were concerned, but he was capable of a reckless fury over what he considered injustice. He had gone over easily to the side of William because, although he had sworn allegiance to the King, he did not respect him. His commanding officer, Churchill, had his wholehearted support; and if Churchill went over to William, then he believed it was morally right for him to do so. I often thought of the way in which Leigh had brought me back to the palazzo and then cold-bloodedly gone off the following night and half killed Beaumont Granville. He must never know. I was certain that if he did there would be no half measures. That would be the end of Beaumont Granville.

“You’re thoughtful.” Harriet was watching me closely. “Thinking back to long ago? You shouldn’t brood on the past, Priscilla. You have to look ahead to the future. I want to talk about Carlotta.”

“Oh, yes?”

“I feel she is my responsibility as well as yours. After all, I am her mother in a way. I feel my duty towards her, although you may not believe it.”

“Of course I believe it. You have always been good to her. She loves you.”

“She admires me, yes. I think we are a little alike, Carlotta and I. I’m thinking of her future. She’ll marry young.”

“She’s a child yet.”

“Some of us stop being children early.”

“She is thirteen years old.”

“How old were you, dear Priscilla, when you stayed the night on the island with your lover?”

“It was unusual circumstances.”

“Unusual circumstances are sometimes quite usual, which sounds a contradiction but is oddly true. They arise, these unusual circumstances, and catch us unaware. I am sure that a girl like Carlotta will attract such occasions as she attracts every male creature who comes within a few yards of her.”

“I agree that we shall have to be careful with her.”

Harriet laughed. “The more careful she sees us to be, the more reckless she will become. I know her kind … none better.”

“Well, if we are going to be careful, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll guide her … with invisible hands.”

“Harriet, what do you mean?”

“I have a bridegroom for her. One I have always wanted her to have.”

“Harriet!”

“Yes, my son Benjie. He adores her … but he doesn’t really know how much yet. Besides, he thinks she is his sister. He’ll have to discover that she is not, that she is no relation. It reminded me of you and Leigh … although he knew all along that he was not related to you. But he was brought up with you like a brother. You see, it makes a complicated situation. Suppose Leigh had not been looking on you as his dear little sister all those years, you would have been together from the start. It is Leigh you really loved. I always knew it. That idyll on the Eyot was the awakening … if you see what I mean.”

“I see, of course, but it is not necessarily true.”

“It is true. You and Leigh would have been lovers when you were fourteen … after all he was a man then. Then all those complications would not have occurred. Well, that’s all finished. Carlotta is in the picture now. I want Benjie to know that she is not his sister. It was wise of you to have told Leigh.”

“You know I couldn’t marry him without telling.”

“Of course you couldn’t, and he understood. After all he is my son. I am very happy that you and Leigh are together, Priscilla. It makes you my daughter in a way. I could be very sentimental about that … if I were a sentimental woman. But what I am really thinking about is Carlotta’s future.”

“Somehow I could not bring myself to tell my parents.”

“Why not? Your father has not exactly lived the life of a holy monk.”

“I know it, but he has always been rather contemptuous of me. No, that’s too strong a word. He has been indifferent to me.”

“That has hurt you. There are times when I should like to give your father a talking to. He really is the most obstinate of men.”

“I shall never forget what you did for me, Harriet … you and Gregory.”

“He is a dear man and played his part well. He would do anything for me. But it is Carlotta whom we are discussing. You are not anxious to disclose the truth to your parents. … Perhaps not, but there is someone else who should know.”

“You mean Benjie?”

“Yes, later. But I was thinking of Robert Frinton.”

“Robert Frinton!” I cried. “But why should he know?”

“Because the child’s father was his nephew.”

“But …”

“You are depriving the man of his family. He loves Carlotta. He is a lonely old man. That was a terrible tragedy in his family. Just imagine what it would mean to him to find he had a family in this enchanting child.”

“I don’t think it would be wise.”

“Why not?”

“We have guarded this secret so long. You, Leigh, Gregory, Christabel and I are the only ones…”

I stopped suddenly in horror. There was one other who knew. I saw again vividly those lascivious mocking eyes. “Posing as a virgin when all the time you were there to have your little bastard!”

Harriet had risen and put an arm about my shoulders.

“The secret will still be safe,” she said. “The only difference is that Frinton will know. Think how happy it will make him. You owe it to him, Priscilla.”

“No,” I cried, “the fewer who know the better.”

Harriet shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I have to tell you. He knows.”

I stared at her. “You told him!”

“Yes, I told him.”

“Harriet, how could you!”

“It was my secret as well as yours. I thought it best to tell him.” She went on quickly: “What I have done is the best for everybody. He will be here shortly. I asked him to come. He wants to see you. He wants to talk to you.”

I was dumbfounded. It was no use reproaching Harriet. It was so like her to do something she wanted to and then tell about it afterwards. I wanted to shout at her: This is my affair. But that was not entirely true. She had made it hers.

It must have been an hour later when we heard the sounds of arrival. Harriet and I went down alone to greet Robert Frinton.

When he saw me he put out his arms and we were both so overcome by emotion that I went straight into them and we clung together for a few moments.

He released me and looked into my face. “You have made me so happy,” he said. “So very happy. For me this is like a miracle. Something I never dreamed could possibly be. I loved the child from the first. I cannot tell you what this means to me.”

When I realized his happiness I felt reconciled to what Harriet had done.

We were together a great deal during that visit and he talked continuously about Carlotta. He had brought a gold chain with a diamond pendant for her. She delighted in it. Carlotta loved gifts and she had a passion for jewels.

Robert Frinton and I travelled back to Eversleigh together. He talked all the time of the joy it gave him to know that Carlotta was Jocelyn’s daughter.

“The fact that he fathered a child—and such a child-makes him seem less lost to me,” he said. “How I wish it could have been in different circumstances. There is no one I would rather have seen him married to, dear Priscilla. And Carlotta delights me. I want to watch her all the time. I want to listen to her. She is the most enchanting child that ever was. This has been like a new life to me. How I thank my good fortune that I decided to come to Enderby Hall. It was like fate, wasn’t it? And there she was in the house … in Carlotta’s cupboard. Oh, how glad I am! You need have no fear. This shall be our secret until you wish it to be divulged. I would not cause you, who have given me such wonderful happiness, one moment of grief.”

So he talked and I thought that no harm had been done. He was such a delightful man and there was no doubt that the revelation had brought him great happiness.

But when I went to see him soon after at Enderby Hall, I was more than ever aware of the sense of foreboding in that house. It was a house of shadows; there was an eeriness in spite of the bright furnishings and the smell of beeswax and turpentine which his servants used so lavishly.

When Robert appeared, the mood of the house seemed to change, but when I stood alone in the hall, I seemed to sense something evil, something which was like a warning. I wondered whether it was the shadow of past tragedy, but somehow I could not get out of my mind the feeling that it was a warning of some impending disaster.

After that I saw a great deal of Robert. We had naturally moved closer together. He was a frequent visitor at Eversleigh Court and I was often at Enderby Hall. He was so pathetically eager to see me, and Carlotta often came with me. That was indeed a red-letter day for him.

I was glad that Carlotta liked him and went out of her way to charm him. She need not have bothered, she did it effortlessly. Such was her nature that the more pleasure he showed in her company, the more she liked him. I was glad to see that he inspired a certain gentleness in her nature which I had not noticed before. There was nothing she liked better than to serve us with coffee or chocolate, which was becoming so fashionable in the London coffeehouses. Carlotta would preside at the table and we would watch her with pride as she brought the beverages to us.

“My father and mother took tea when they were in London,” she told us. “It is a strange outlandish herb, they say. They didn’t like it much, but it is being drunk by all the notable people.”

Her eyes sparkled. I knew she longed to go to London and mingle with the notables.

“My mother says that when I am fourteen, which is this year, she will take me to London.”

I could never become accustomed to hearing her refer to Harriet as her mother, although I should by this time.

“What do you want to do in London?” asked Robert indulgently.

“I want to go to balls and to be presented to the King. It is a pity the poor Queen died. It means the Court is very dull. And of course there is no heir to the throne except Princess Anne. It makes rather a dull Court. Still the balls must be gay, mustn’t they? And I should love to see it. Benjie says it is fun to go to the coffeehouses. Important people meet there and talk and talk. Then there are the shops. How I should love to go to London.”

“And what would you buy in the shops?” asked Robert.

“I would buy beautiful materials to be made into ball gowns. I would buy a riding habit in pearl grey with a hard grey hat with a feather that has a little blue in it … but not too much … bluey grey. Then I would buy a diamond brooch.”

“It seems,” I interrupted, “that you would spend a small fortune within a few hours. You should be happy to buy just one of those things to start with.”

I saw Robert calculating and I knew what the outcome would be. We should soon be seeing Carlotta in a grey riding habit; silks would be arriving at the house; and before long there would be a diamond brooch.

I remonstrated with him. “You give her too much,” I protested. “She will wonder why.”

“Carlotta will never have to wonder why people want to please her. I never saw such a delightful girl.”

It was her fourteenth birthday—a dull October day—and when I awoke I thought, as I always did on this anniversary, of that day in Venice when I first heard the cry of my child.

My mother liked to celebrate our anniversaries. She was very sentimental and eager to preserve the family feeling. Carlotta’s birthday was a very special occasion, for Carlotta was looking upon it as a coming of age. It was to be held at the Abbas, for although she had spent a great deal of time at Eversleigh, that was reckoned to be her home. She had added her governess, Amelia Garston, to her admirers and a friendship had sprung up between them, much as had existed between Christabel and myself. Harriet said it was a good thing for her to have a friend nearer her own age and Amelia had come from a desirable background; the only thing her family lacked which ours had was money.

The great hall at the Abbas was decorated with as many plants as could be mustered at that time of the year. I arrived with Damaris, my parents, Jane and her son, plus Sally Nullens who regarded herself as indispensable to the children.

Robert Frinton was naturally there. He had looked forward to the event for weeks, he told me. I was sure that he had brought rich presents for Carlotta who, I was glad to say, always thanked him charmingly and made rather a point of what she called “looking after him,” which surprised me because she was usually so involved in her own affairs; but I supposed she found his devotion especially touching.

I had never seen Carlotta more lovely. She was, of course, the centre of attraction. After all it was her day. A large birthday cake had been made and this Carlotta ceremoniously cut. She was dressed in a gown of deep blue—the silk had been one of those which Robert had sent her—and at her throat sparkled the diamond brooch—his present. She wore a string of pearls threaded through her hair—the gift of Gregory and Harriet—and on her finger a sapphire ring from Leigh and me. Rather an excess of jewellery for one so young perhaps, but this was her birthday and she must please all the donors by wearing their gifts.

She was completely happy, and when she was, it was a pleasant trait of hers to want everyone else to be the same.

She danced a great deal with Benjie, who was now well advanced into his twenties. I agreed with Harriet that, in spite of the fact that she was quite a few years younger, he would make a good husband for Carlotta. Benjie always looked slightly bewildered when he was with Carlotta. I wondered about him. He had never thought of marrying as yet. Was it true that he was in love with the girl whom he believed to be his sister?

What complications arose when one stepped outside the rules of convention. If Benjie suddenly knew that Carlotta was not his sister, what would his reaction be?

It was becoming more and more clear to me that sooner or later I should have to disclose the truth. I could have told my mother. I was sure she would understand. But for some obscure reason I did not want my father to know. That seemed absurd. Why he should think worse of me when he had never thought very much about me in any case, I did not know. But he would be critical. He had entered into many relationships lightheartedly, I was sure. There had been results in at least one. My half sister Christabel was evidence of that. So why should he stand in judgment on me! And yet I could not bear him to know. He dominated me as he always had done. The fact that I had saved his life should have made a difference … if he had known. I sometimes played with the idea of telling him. I heard myself saying: “Carlotta is my daughter. Yes, I have an illegitimate daughter just as you have. I should have married her father had he lived. Your relationships were different. You entered into them to satisfy your lust. Can you criticize me? And let me tell you, you who never wanted a daughter and thought little of the one you had, if it had not been for her, you would be dead now … and you would have died horribly. I paid dearly for saving your life, and what happened to me is something which has scarred me forever.”

I wondered so often what he would say if he knew. Yet I told myself that he never should.

Now there were Carlotta and Benjie to think of. I saw Harriet watching them, and then her eyes were on me. Harriet would tell Benjie, I knew, just as she had told Robert Frinton.

Perhaps she was right. If one stepped aside, others must not suffer because of it.

The dance had stopped. Carlotta was taking a goblet of wine to Robert Frinton. She sat beside him. He was smiling with pleasure as she fingered the brooch at her throat, and I knew she was telling him how much she liked it and thanking him for it. She leaned forward and kissed him.

He took her hand and held it. She did not remove it but let it lie in his. I think she was really quite fond of him.

The music started and she took the wine from him and set it down. She pulled him to his feet and went out with him to lead the dance.

He was not very agile and I thought how old he looked, but perhaps that was in contrast to Carlotta’s glowing youth.

They led the dance round the hall and others fell in behind them. Then suddenly Robert Frinton turned and swayed. There was a gasp through the hall; the music stopped, and for a few seconds there was complete silence. Carlotta was kneeling down beside him, pulling at his cravat. My father hurried over.

“Get a doctor,” he said to Harriet.

That was the end of Carlotta’s fourteenth birthday party. Robert Frinton was carried to his bed at once. He died during the night. He was just conscious and able to see Carlotta beside his bed. His hand curled about hers and she knelt, looking at him with the tears falling down her cheeks.

I heard him murmur: “Beautiful child … you have made me so happy.”

He was taken back to Enderby Hall and buried in the Eversleigh churchyard.

We learned that he was a very rich man and that he had left everything he possessed to Carlotta.

She was to inherit on her eighteenth birthday, or when she married, if that were earlier, and then she would be one of the richest women in the country.

The day after he was buried—Harriet and Gregory had come to Eversleigh for the ceremony—she and I walked to his grave and laid a posy there.

“Dear Robert,” she said, “he so loved Carlotta. She was a symbol to him that his family lived on. I did right, you see, to let him know who she really was.”

“Harriet,” I asked, “did you know how rich he was?”

“Well, one can never be sure, of course.”

“But you did know.”

“It was reasonable to suppose he was not poor. I knew that he received compensation for the estates which had been taken from his family, but he was of course a rich man in his own right.”

“And you thought this might happen?”

“It seemed a natural conclusion.”

“I see. It was another of your schemes.”

“But how could I be sure?”

“You couldn’t be. But you thought it likely.”

“My dear Priscilla, don’t take up that high moral tone. If a fortune is around and a family has a certain claim to it, they would be foolish not to make themselves known.”

“Harriet,” I said, “from the moment you stepped into the chateau where my mother was in exile, you started to shape our lives. You have gone on doing it.”

She was thoughtful. “There may be something in what you say,” she agreed. “But this little bit of shaping is very good for all concerned. Beautiful Carlotta, who would have had no great fortune, is now a considerable heiress. What could be wrong with that?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I shall have to wait and see.”

Dear Robert Frinton! If he could have foreseen what effect his action would have, he might have decided against it.

I shall never forget Carlotta as she was when she heard the news. A look of great wonder spread across her face. She said: “He must have loved me very much.”

No one spoke, and for a few seconds her face was tender as she thought of how much this old man of whom she had been so fond had loved her. Then the realization of what this meant came to her. She was rich. The whole world was open to her. She had only to wait four years before this great fortune was hers.

I could see plans forming in her mind. She would go to London. She would travel through the world. She would have a house of her own. She would escape from every restriction.

I said: “Don’t forget you will have to wait until you are eighteen. Everything will go on much as before until then, and by that time you will have made up your mind what you have to do.”

“Four years!” she cried.

“A short time really,” soothed Harriet.

And she shared Carlotta’s excitement. Harriet was a schemer and her schemes were almost always for her own advantage. She wanted Robert Frinton’s fortune for Carlotta partly because she intended it to come to her son Benjie.

I should have known. Harriet had schemed throughout her life. It was a habit she could not discard now.

In my heart I was afraid of this money. I had a sudden feeling it would bring no good.

Carlotta wanted to go to London.

“It is so sad here now that he is dead,” she said. “He would have wanted us to go.”

Harriet thought it was a good idea and it was agreed that she, Gregory and myself with Carlotta should go for a brief stay to London.

“Mind you,” said Harriet, “the Court is dull these days. How different from Charles’s time! What fun it was then! And how gracious he was! Between ourselves William is a boor … a Dutch boor. They say he scarcely speaks at all.”

“The people admire him for he is a good King,” replied Gregory. “And that is what we need.”

“If the Queen had lived … or he had married again …”

Gregory shook his head. “He won’t and it will be Anne who follows him … or perhaps her boy William, though he is very delicate.”

“Well, let us hope she will make a more lively Court than the present one,” said Harriet. “I like not these dour rulers. Charles was so different. I for one shall never stop regretting his passing.”

It was the middle of December when we set out. Harriet had said we should go before the really cold weather set in which was usually after Christmas. Carlotta was very excited at the prospect, though every now and then she would remember Robert and a certain sadness would settle on her. Knowing her so well I realized that she felt guilty because she found it possible to be happy in spite of his death.

I was pleased to see this sensitivity in her. She was not completely selfish—only young, full of vitality which deplored inaction, and if she took admiration as her right, it was because so much of it had come her way.

We had arranged to stay at the Eversleigh town house which was very close to Whitehall. It was not Carlotta’s first visit to London, but she seemed to be seeing it all through different eyes. She was now an heiress. Her eyes danced with pleasure and there was a wild anticipation in them. I was sure she was contemplating all she would do when she reached the magic age of eighteen.

It was difficult not to get caught up in the excitement of London. Those of us who lived quietly in the country could not but be amazed by the vitality, the bustle, the sheer joy of living which was generated in those streets.

They were less unsavoury, Harriet said, than they had been before the great fire, and some of the new buildings which Christopher Wren had set up were very fine. It was no less noisy, no less colourful than before the plague and fire had decimated so much of it.

“How beautiful it is!” cried Carlotta as we rode along the Strand past the large houses with their gardens running down to the river. Little boats rocked at the privy stairs and all along the waterway, craft of every description passed by. The songs of the watermen wafted towards us, vague and haunting among the noise of the streets.

Harriet pointed out some of the new coffeehouses which were springing up here and there and taking the town by storm. “Mind you,” she explained, “beverages stronger than coffee can be obtained there. The company can get a little wild as the night wears on.”

“Shall we go to a coffeehouse?” asked Carlotta.

“I hardly think it would be the place for us,” I said.

Carlotta grimaced at me. “Dear Priscilla,” she said, “you would be perfectly safe with me.” She glanced at Gregory. “You would take me, wouldn’t you?”

Gregory gave a little laugh and murmured: “We’ll see.” He always found it hard to give Carlotta a direct refusal.

We had come into the Mall and Harriet was again sighing for the days of Charles’s reign when he himself could often be seen here watched with admiration while he played the game which gave the thoroughfare its name.

“You should have seen him,” said Harriet. “No one could drive a ball as he could. It would go halfway down the Mall, as I heard it said by an old soldier, ‘As though it were shot from a smoking culverin.’ One cannot imagine his present Majesty performing such a feat.”

“It is no use sighing for the old days,” I said. “Let us be thankful that we have a King who appears to know how to govern.”

“Even though he keeps the dullest Court in Europe.”

“The parks are beautiful,” sighed Carlotta.

“Yes,” said Gregory, “I always enjoyed the parks, and we have our share of them. I think the people would cause a riot if anyone attempted to take our parks from us. St. James’s is beautiful, as you say, and there are Hyde Park and Spring Gardens and Mulberry Gardens.”

“But not to be entered after dark,” interposed Harriet. “Even though one was masked, one would be suspected of being there for a purpose—but enough of that.”

Flower girls and orange girls threaded their way through the crowds, and there were milkmaids laden with their wares. Coaches passed us in which sat patched and powdered ladies; occasionally we saw a dandy pull down his window and chat with a lady in a passing coach.

We had come into Town just after noon, which was the busiest time of the day. At two o’clock the streets would be quiet, for two o’clock was dinnertime for most people, and at four o’clock the streets would be full again with people making their way to the playhouses.

Carlotta had difficulty in keeping her eyes from the displays of ribbons and laces and fine garments which were displayed on the stalls and in the booths. Harriet promised her that they would do a great deal of shopping during the visit.

We reached our house where everything had been made ready for our coming. Dinner was served and Carlotta immediately wanted to go out. I reminded her that it would soon be dark and I thought that we should wait until morning. She was disappointed, and after dinner went to a window and sat there looking out on the Town.

The following day we went shopping in the New Exchange in the Strand. This was almost like a bazaar, with an upper gallery full of stalls displaying the most exciting merchandise. Carlotta cried out with delight as she examined the silks, ribbons and laces; and we bought material for new gowns.

Ladies, some of whom I was sure were of questionable virtue, sauntered through the Exchange. They glanced from right to left and were clearly looking for interested gallants. Some of these were very glorious to behold in their velvet cloaks, silken breeches and feathered hats, and very often they carried Toledo swords at their sides. Many of them were followed by their pages and looked very grand indeed. I saw many glance Carlotta’s way and I was glad that she was too interested in what she was buying to notice them.

We had come to a booth where fans were on display. We paused, for Carlotta wanted to buy a fan. There was one she found which was very beautiful and decorated with brilliants. She opened it and began to fan herself.

“I must have it,” she said. “It is lovely. It will match the new silk I have bought.”

Then I found myself turning quite cold, as though someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over me. Standing at the next stall was a man whose face I should never forget if I lived to be a hundred. It was a face which still came to me in my dreams and filled me with terror.

Beaumont Granville was buying cravats at the next stall.

“What do you think of it?” I heard Carlotta’s voice from a long way off. Time seemed to have stood still and everything was happening very slowly, for Beaumont Granville had turned at the sound of Carlotta’s voice and he had seen me.

I saw the smile of recognition turn up the corners of his mouth. I saw his gaze go from Harriet to Carlotta and rest on her fleetingly. She was holding the fan up to her lips and gazing at me over the top of it.

I was saying: “I want to go home. I feel … er …”

I was aware of them all looking at me. Harriet’s deep blue eyes curious, Carlotta’s anxious.

I turned sharply. I had to get away from that amused stare, from those eyes which would always be for me the most cruel in the world.

I caught my foot in the cobblestones and I should have fallen if Harriet had not caught me. A sharp pain shot through my ankle.

“What happened?” asked Harriet.

I did not answer. I stooped and touched my ankle.

Then I heard his voice, which I remembered so well-musical, gentle, beguiling, and I felt as if I were in one of those nightmares which had afflicted me since that night I had spent in his odious company. “If I can be of any assistance …”

He was bowing to Harriet, to Carlotta, to me.

I said very quickly: “Thank you. Everything is all right.”

“How kind of you!” Harriet’s voice was extremely courteous. I had realized that he was still as handsome as ever. Harriet always changed subtly at the advent of a man, of whatever age, however unattractive. It was Harriet’s way.

“I am perfectly all right,” I insisted hastily.

“You’ve hurt your ankle,” said Carlotta.

“It’s nothing … absolutely nothing. I can feel nothing …”

“I have a friendly apothecary close by,” said Beaumont Granville. “He would look at it and verify that you had not injured it. For if you have a broken bone it would be dangerous to walk on it.”

“I feel nothing at all.”

“You have gone very pale,” said Carlotta. “Hasn’t she?”

Her lovely face betrayed her anxiety. I was too worried to think clearly. I reminded myself that at all costs I must not show agitation, but how could I be calm when I feared him so much?

“You must allow me to help,” he went on. “My apothecary friend is here in the Exchange.” He had taken a parcel from Harriet. “Allow me.” He laid a hand on my arm and his eyes looked mockingly into mine. “I really think you should see this man. A bandage may be necessary even if it is only a strain.”

“You are very kind, sir,” said Carlotta.

“I am delighted to be at your service.”

“It would be churlish to refuse such kindness,” added Harriet.

“Yes, Priscilla,” said Carlotta, “you must see this apothecary. It hurts. I can see that.”

“Then,” added Beaumont Granville, “the matter is settled. May I lead the way?”

I was limping badly. I had twisted my ankle but I was unaware of the pain. I could only ask myself what cruel trick of fate this was which had brought him back into my life.

I did not trust him for one moment. I wanted to tell him to go, to explain to them that I knew from experience that this man was no fit company for decent people.

Carlotta had slipped her arm through mine.

“Does it hurt, Priscilla?”

“No, no. This is nonsense. I’d like to go home without delay.”

Beaumont Granville was standing on the other side of me.

“Would you care to take my arm, to lean on me?” he asked solicitously.

“It is not necessary, thank you.”

“Well, it is only a few steps,” he said and led the way.

There was a smell of scents and unguents in the apothecary’s shop. We took a step down into the dark exterior and a man in a yellow coat came hurrying to meet us. He bowed low when he saw Beaumont Granville and was prepared to be extremely subservient. It was clear that he was a most respected customer.

“My lord,” he asked, “what can I do for you?”

Beaumont Granville explained that I had hurt my ankle and he wanted the apothecary to look at it and see what damage had been done and perhaps supply an unguent and a bandage or whatever was necessary.

He would indeed. He looked round and found a stool on which I was immediately seated. He then knelt and probed my ankle. I caught my breath with pain.

He looked up at Beaumont Granville who was watching me intently.

“No bones broken,” he said. “Just a little twist … nothing that cannot be cured quickly.”

“Have you something to put on it?” asked Harriet.

“The very thing. I’ll bind it up and then the lady should rest for a day or so … and all will be well.”

“Then get to it,” said Beaumont Granville. He turned to Harriet. “You ladies were shopping. Why do we not leave our patient here to be bandaged while we continue with what we have to do? We can return when she is ready to leave. Have you a coach? She should not walk.”

“We could return home and bring it,” Harriet explained. “As we were shopping and we are but near Whitehall, we came on foot.”

“She must not walk far. Leave it to me. I will take you back in my carriage.”

“You are too good to us, sir,” cried Harriet.

“It is my pleasure to serve you,” he answered.

“It seems a good idea, Priscilla,” said Harriet.

I did not answer. I felt sick with anxiety.

The apothecary was shaking something in a bottle. I was thinking: Granville can do no harm yet. But what does it mean? What can it mean?

“Then we shall see you later,” said Harriet.

“Say half an hour?” suggested Granville.

The apothecary agreed that I should be ready to leave by that time.

“It seems the best thing,” said Carlotta. “And then we must get you home.”

I watched them leave. At the door he turned and looked back at me. I could not guess what was in his mind, but I was deeply conscious of that mocking amusement.

I was nauseated by the scents of the shop. I sat on the stool and removed my stocking. My ankle was very swollen.

The apothecary knelt at my feet and put something cooling on the afflicted part. It soothed my ankle but nothing could soothe my mind.

What could it mean? Why had I hurt my ankle just at that moment? I had turned clumsily because the sight of him had made me numb with horror.

Well, he would take us home in his carriage. I should have protested about that. He would be invited in and given wine or some refreshment. Harriet was impressed by him. I could see that.

I must remind her who he was. Perhaps she would remember when she heard his name. There had been a great deal of talk about the thrashing Leigh had given him in Venice. But that was fifteen years ago. I would remind her as soon as possible that he was a man whose acquaintance we should do without.

The apothecary was talking about his unguents and lotions. He was trying to sell me some of his aids to beauty. There was a face wash he had which could make a lady’s skin look like a child’s. There were lotions to disguise grey hairs. There were exquisite scents to please the gentlemen. His shop was a magic cave of delights.

I lay back and closed my eyes. My thoughts were far from the apothecary’s shop.

In half an hour they returned. Carlotta was very excited. They had been taken to the most wonderful shops. Their kind friend knew all the best shops in the Exchange and he had made sure that they got the best bargains.

“Are you feeling well enough to walk?” His voice was tender though his eyes still mocked.

“I should like to go home,” I answered.

“My carriage is here. All you have to do is to get out of the shop.”

“First,” I reminded him, “we must settle our account with the apothecary, who has been so good.”

He waved his hand. “I have a standing account with him. This shall be my affair.”

“I shall not hear of it,” I replied.

“Oh, come, come, such a small matter.”

“Pray tell me your charge,” I said to the apothecary.

“I forbid it,” commanded Granville.

The apothecary looked at me and lifted his shoulders.

“I cannot and will not allow this,” I said firmly.

“So you would deprive me of this pleasure?”

I took some money from my purse and laid it on the counter. The apothecary looked at it helplessly. I could see he was very much in awe of Beaumont Granville.

“You will at least allow me to give you the comfort of my carriage.”

“There is no need,” I replied. “We could wait here for our own.”

“What has come over you?” said Harriet, laughing. “It is ungracious of you to refuse such kindness so graciously given.”

He helped me into his carriage. We sat facing each other—Harriet beside him, Carlotta beside me.

Carlotta cried: “What an adventure! How is your ankle feeling, Priscilla?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“It was such an exciting morning. First all those lovely silks and now this. … Oh, I did not get the fan. I forgot all about it.”

“Never mind,” said Harriet, “you have had a very interesting morning. But what of poor Priscilla? My dear, I hope it is not painful.”

I said it felt better after the apothecary’s attentions.

“I’m sorry,” cried Carlotta instantly, “I didn’t mean it was fun that you hurt yourself.”

“I understand,” I told her and she gave me her lovely, dazzling smile.

We had reached the house and Beaumont Granville had leaped down to help us out.

“You must come in and drink a glass of wine with us,” said Harriet.

He hesitated and looked at me. I said nothing.

“Yes, please,” cried Carlotta. “You must come.”

He turned his gaze on her. “Are you sure I am not encroaching?”

“Encroaching! After all you have done. We are very much in your debt.”

And so Beaumont Granville came back into my life and the nightmare began.

I said to Harriet, “You know who this man is. He is Beaumont Granville.”

“Yes, that is his name.”

“Have you forgotten Venice?”

She wrinkled her brows.

“Don’t you remember? He tried to take me away from the ball and Leigh went to his apartments the next day and nearly killed him.”

Remembrance came back to her. She burst out laughing.

“It was nothing to laugh at, Harriet. It was a very serious matter.”

“It must be fifteen years since it happened.”

“It is something that will never be forgotten.”

“My dear Priscilla, you are behind the times. Men fight duels one day and forget it in a week or so. It was a bit of high spirits on his part.”

“He almost succeeded in taking me away. If he had …”

“But Leigh was there. That was so romantic. Leigh saved you and then went round and there was trouble. Yes, I do remember it well. All Venice was talking about it.”

“I don’t want to know him.”

“So that’s why you were so cold … and really quite discourteous, I thought. After all, he was offering to help.”

“Harriet, I don’t like the man. I don’t want him in this house.”

“We had to ask him in after what he did.”

“Well, let’s hope that this is the end of it and we don’t have to see him again.”

“He seemed so eager to please, and you must admit he did help with the apothecary.”

“We could have managed without him.”

“Oh, Priscilla, you really are holding this prank against him, are you not?”

I wanted to shout at her: If you knew everything you would understand.

I almost told her, yet I could not bring myself to speak of it. If she knew she would readily understand why I never wanted to see him again.

Carlotta burst in on us. She was carrying the fan she had seen on the Exchange stall and waving it before our eyes.

“You have been out to get it,” I cried. “Oh, Carlotta, you must not go out alone.”

She shook her head. “Three guesses. Now how did I come by this beautiful fan?”

“Gregory went out and bought it for you,” said Harriet. “That man spoils you.”

“Wrong,” she retorted. “Try again. Not Gregory but …”

She was flourishing a note in her hand. Harriet snatched it from her.

She read:

I did not like to think of your losing the fan, so I crept back and bought it. Do please accept it. B.G.

I wanted to shout at them both. I wanted to say: It must be sent back. We want nothing from this man, not even a trifle such as this.

“A charming gesture,” said Harriet.

“It was so thoughtful of him,” added Carlotta.

“I think he is a very charming man,” added Harriet, almost defiantly.

I was filled with foreboding.