THE TWENTY-NINTH OF MAY of the year 1660—what an unforgettable day that was! We must all be in the capital for the King’s ceremonial entry. How fitting it was that it should be His Majesty’s thirtieth birthday.
We had travelled to London on the previous day and taken up residence in the Eversleighs’ town house which, through his careful conduct, Carleton had managed to keep in the family in much the same manner as he had Eversleigh Court. Alas, he had not been able to put away treasures from this house, there being no secret hiding place, but he had, with great daring, carried a few of them from London to Eversleigh Court and it had been possible to bring a few back. So we found the house not so austere as it might have been.
What a happy scene that was! The city seemed to have gone mad with joy. It was clear that all believed that the evil days were over and that a new heaven had come on earth. As we rode out from our lodgings—myself and Charlotte with Carleton and Lord and Lady Eversleigh—we had difficulty in getting through the crowded streets. Lord Eversleigh in his splendid uniform was cheered. Clearly he was one of the King’s generals, and I knew that my father, who would be making his way through these streets, would be getting the same acclamation.
We were to go to London Bridge, where the grand procession was being organized. From there we would join the King, who would be journeying from Rochester through Dartford to Blackheath.
There was my father and mother with Lucas. I was so proud of my father who looked magnificent in his uniform. He was a very distinguished-looking man, and my heart warmed to him because I knew of the great love between him and my mother and that I was a living result of it. I felt very emotional in that moment and infinitely sad because my own husband had been taken from me.
The crowd was growing and the shouts were deafening. It was all “Long live the King.” It seemed incredible that a few months before these people would not have dared mention his name.
A woman was beside Carleton—a tall woman who sat her horse most gracefully. She was what I would only call voluptuous, and there was a black patch on her temple to accentuate the beauty of her large brown eyes.
“I must present you to my wife,” said Carleton.
I felt a shudder of revulsion which was inexplicable. I had heard that he had a wife. What was it Edwin had said? They go their own ways. It suits them.
“Madam,” he said to his wife, “allow me to present my new cousin. Edwin’s widow.”
“I have heard of you,” said Barbary Eversleigh. “You have a fine son, I believe.”
I noticed that she threw a mischievous look at Carleton, as though she knew that the birth of my son had baulked his ambitions, and this gave her pleasure.
“I have heard of you, too,” I said. “Are you often at Eversleigh Court?”
“Rarely,” she answered. “Even though, I believe, my husband is frequently there.”
She was studying me intently, as though taking in every detail of my appearance. I felt uncomfortable, and I was glad that at that moment the trumpets announced that the King’s arrival was imminent.
Barbary drew in her mount and brought it closer to Carleton’s.
In the van of the processions were three hundred men of the Trainbands dressed in cloth-of-silver doublets; twelve hundred followed in velvet coats and then came the footmen in purple livery. Brilliantly coloured uniforms were everywhere—buff-coated soldiers, with sleeves of cloth of silver, wearing rich green scarves; there were men clad in blue, laced with silver, followed by the members of the City Companies in their black velvet coats and chains.
As this passed the great moment had arrived. There, between his two brothers, rode the slim, dark man, and as he appeared, shouts went up from thousands of throats: “God save the King.”
“A health unto His Majesty.” These citizens were in love with him. He had a natural charm which it was impossible not to be aware of. His happiness in being back was obvious to all. There could scarcely have been a man or woman in the multitude who did not believe that this was the day he or she had been waiting for all through the dreary years of Puritan rule.
His thirtieth birthday! Not too young but still young enough. He was tall, very tall, so that he towered above his fellows; some might judge his dark, rather saturnine face ugly, but none could deny his charm. If any man in that press of people had dared raise his voice against good King Charles, he would have been hung by his neck on the nearest tree. From every church the bells were ringing; people had hung tapestries across the streets, from windows girls and women threw flowers at the King as he passed. There were trumpets and music and banners fluttering in the light breeze. Never had a people shown its monarch such loyalty; and because he had come home and not a drop of blood had been shed to bring him to his rightful kingdom, they loved him the more.
People danced. They scooped up the wine which flowed from the fountains. That night some would be drunk and perhaps quarrelsome, but for the moment it was all joy.
How exhilarating it was! I was caught up in the euphoric joy, and I really felt, as I rode through the streets of London, that this was the start of a new life.
Then I saw her in the crowd. She was riding with Sir James Gilley and she was clearly the most attractive woman there. She was dressed in blue velvet and in her hat was a long curling feather. She looked pleased and happy, and I felt a pang of anger to think that she could as easily abandon her child.
I tried to push my horse through the crowd to reach her, when I felt a restraining hand on my reins.
It was Carleton’s.
“You can’t reach her,” he said. “You should not try. The daughter-in-law of Lord Eversleigh should not openly consort with harlots.”
I felt the colour flame into my cheeks.
“How … how dare you say that of …”
“Oh, good and loyal Arabella,” he whispered. “Dear, sweet, simple Arabella! That woman is no friend to you. You should stop thinking of her as such.”
“How can you know who is and who is not my friend?”
He brought his face close to mine. It looked mocking. “I know a great deal,” he said, “I was not born yesterday.”
“And nor was I.”
“Who shall say how long ago was yesterday?”
I ignored him, still looking at Harriet.
“You should send her bastard back to her,” he said. “Why should you be responsible for her mistakes?”
As I turned my horse away from him, I heard him laugh softly.
“Temper!” he whispered. “On such a day. Of course it may be that your good friend Harriet will soon be back, begging for admittance. It is well known that James Gilley doesn’t keep his women long. He’s a good husband, really, and does his duty by his wife. Now he is back he’ll keep her pleasantly in Shropshire with a growing family, which well gives evidence that he visits her when he considers it necessary. If she had been in London today, he would have ridden with her. He never thinks of his women as anything but what they are.”
“It seems,” I said curtly, “that he is a most cynical man.”
“You might say that of many of us. How, my dear, good Arabella, shall you adjust yourself to this wicked society?”
“I have no doubt that there are virtuous people even in …”
“Restoration London,” he finished. “Perhaps so. Well, it will be interesting to see …”
“To see what?”
“How you like the new life. Come. You are scowling. People watch us. It is not in the mood of today to quarrel. You must smile. Everything has changed. You must believe that now the King is home, England has become a paradise.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“No more than you do.”
“What is he telling you?” asked Barbary. “Don’t believe it. He’s a deceiver, you know.”
“There speaks my loyal wife,” said Carleton, raising his eyes to heaven.
They made me feel very uneasy, those two. I couldn’t stop thinking of what he had said about Harriet and her lover. And I wondered with an anticipation tinged with satisfaction when she would come seeking shelter from me.
I could see problems ahead. It would be different in Eversleigh Court from what it had been in Congrève. I was still thinking of this during the banquet in the King’s honour, for belonging to two loyal families I was naturally entitled to be present at this.
I listened to the King, I was given his strangely appealing smile. He was a man whom women loved rather than men.
I heard him say in a musical voice which was not the least of his charms: “It must surely have been my fault that I did not come before. I have met no one today who did not protest that he always wished for my restoration.”
This was murmured with a sardonic look, and I saw the cynical lips lifted in a smile. I thought then that he would be immune from all the flattery, and that, though he liked this outward manifestation of his country’s approval, he suspected its depth. He could see below the glittering surface.
There in the banqueting hall I thought of Harriet, and I wondered what the future held for us all.
After the ceremonies were completed I went back to Eversleigh Court with Matilda, my father-in-law, Charlotte and Carleton. Barbary did not come with us. The days had been stimulating yet exhausting, and I hated to leave my son for longer than a few days. Even then he was in my thoughts all the time. Matilda laughed at me indulgently. “You don’t really trust anyone else to look after him, do you?” she said.
It was more even than my anxieties about my son which made me want to return to the country. It may have had something to do with my glimpse of Harriet. She had sat there on her horse, magnificent, flamboyant, her complexion glowing. I knew that it owed something to artifice now, for I had learned some of her secrets, but that made the sight of her no less beautiful. It was not how beauty was achieved, it was merely a matter of its being there. That gaiety, the belief in the future, how long could it continue? I kept thinking of Carleton’s cynical comment: “James Gilley doesn’t keep his women long.”
I hated to think of Harriet’s being in that position. But I fancied too that both she and Barbary had been somewhat condescending in their attitude towards me. They took lovers wherever they fancied. Let them, but should they despise me because I had no wish to do so? Yet I was sure they did.
I decided I would put them from my mind, and the best way of doing this was to devote myself to domesticity in my new home. There was a great deal to do at Eversleigh. Many of the treasures had still to be brought out of hiding and put in their rightful place. Matilda wanted to set up her stillroom where in the past she had made wines and simples. She loved sweet scents and I had to admit I did too. She liked to fill pomanders and bowls with herbs of her own combining, and sometimes the smell of her concoctions would fill the house and we called that “Simple Time.”
Charlotte shared my pleasure in the house, and there was no doubt that I was on happy terms with my husband’s family.
Chief of all my pleasures was caring for my baby. I had a nurse, Sally Nullens, who had nursed Edwin and Charlotte and had just been waiting, she said, for another little one who would need her. She was old, but I thought it was right to have someone who was trusted by the family, and Edwin showed a partiality for her which settled the matter. She tried to make no difference in her treatment of the two boys, but I knew that Edwin was her favourite.
Ellen was still in the kitchens and Jasper worked in the stables. It was pleasant to see little Chastity again. She came and stood shyly before me, and when I knelt down and put my arms about her, she hugged me tightly. She was clearly one who was glad I was back. I took her to see the babies and she laughed with pleasure. She seemed very happy that we were there, and no wonder. From now on it was not going to be sinful to laugh and play. Chastity seemed to believe that I was responsible for the new state of affairs and regarded me as though I were some sort of benevolent goddess.
Ellen was a little shamefaced. As for Jasper he was inclined to be sullen. Puritanism had been so much a part of him that he would not abandon it lightly. It was clear to see that Ellen was not displeased to escape from the yoke, and although she was loyal to Jasper and if she found herself laughing would stop suddenly and look ashamed, she was glad not to have to suppress her natural inclination to enjoy life.
Ellen liked to talk to me, and I soon had the notion that she was trying to tell me something. Once when I went into the kitchen and we were alone there she said: “It were a terrible tragedy … what happened to the young master.”
I nodded.
She went on: “We were not to blame. That’s what I want you to know. ’Tweren’t us. ’Twere nothing to do with us.”
“Don’t let’s talk of it, Ellen,” I said. “It distresses us all and nothing can bring him back.”
“But I think, mistress, that you may blame us. I want you to know it was not through us …”
“Ellen,” I interrupted, “it was my fault. I was careless. I did not consider that it would be thought irreligious to give a child a pretty button. It seemed such nonsense to me.”
Ellen flushed with a certain shame. “It was thought to be, mistress. And Jasper, he was of the opinion that it was bad for Chastity.”
“I understand, Ellen. And it was my carelessness that was to blame. Then that man came asking questions, and I betrayed us. We can talk of it now. There is no longer need for secrecy. Because of my carelessness my husband was killed.”
“’Twere not because of your talk, mistress. ’Twas not one of us that killed him. ’Twas something else.”
“I don’t understand you, Ellen.”
“I shouldn’t speak of it. But I know that you blame yourself. ’Twere known before. ’Twas not as you thought.”
“You mean it was not one of your friends who killed my husband?”
“I mean, mistress, that it was not because of what you said. They were growing wise to why you were at Eversleigh and there would have been trouble in time. But it were not because of you that he was killed.”
“Ellen, you are trying to comfort me.”
“You should be comforted, mistress. ’Twere no fault of yours. I tell you that. I can say no more. But you should not fret. You had no hand in it.”
I pressed her hand warmly. Ellen was a kindhearted, good woman now that she was at liberty to show her true nature.
“You must be happy, mistress,” she went on looking searchingly into my face. “You have the dear baby. He will be your strength and comfort. And as for the rest, you must say it was as the good Lord meant it to be, and perhaps he was saving you sorrow in one way while giving it in another.”
When I was in my room that night I thought, as I always did, of the nights Edwin and I had spent there. I remembered how he would often come in late at night and would sometimes leave early in the morning. I had not realized then the danger of his mission. I thought of Ellen’s words. It was almost as though she knew something and was holding it back.
It was not they who had killed him, she implied. Not the band of Puritans who had grown suspicious of our presence in the house. Who then?
I dozed and fell into a half dream. Carleton was in that dream, with his wife beside him. She was laughing at me for my simplicity. They both were. Then Ellen was there. We did not kill your husband, mistress. ’Twere not us.
Barbary’s voice, rather shrill and strident, broke into my dreams. “I have heard of you. You have a fine son, I believe.” And she was laughing at Carleton, and suddenly he brought something he had been holding behind his back and placed it over his face. It was a mask, evil, horrible and frightening. I screamed and woke myself up.
“Edwin?” I cried. “Edwin …”
I was calling to my son and I had to get out of bed to assure myself that he was safe.
He was lying in his cot, smiling seraphically in his sleep. In the next cot was Leigh, one chubby hand clutching the coverlet.
All was well in the nursery. I had had a bad dream but the memory of it would not be dismissed. It stayed in my mind like a sleeping snake waiting to uncoil and strike. A vague uneasiness had come to me.
I was very reluctant to leave my son, and for that reason I remained at Eversleigh Court and did not go to London and the King’s Court, which I could so easily have done. If I went away even for a day, I would be uneasy, so that I could never have enjoyed any of the jaunts which had been arranged for me, in which case, as I explained to my mother-in-law and Charlotte, I was best at home. They agreed with me. Charlotte had no desire for society. She loved to be with the children and I was delighted that she seemed to have a special devotion for Leigh. In the beginning she had not wished to see him, which was understandable; then her mood changed, and she really began to look on him as hers. This was good, because I was afraid that the little boy might begin to notice that Edwin was specially favoured, and I thought it might give rise to jealousy. Leigh had a strong personality, vociferous and demanding—taking after his mother, I thought. He had inherited her lovely eyes and was going to be very handsome, there was no doubt of that. He did not seem to notice that he was of any less importance in the nursery than Edwin and had a habit of pushing himself forward as though it was his right. This was amusing, while he was so young, and Edwin was of such a gentle nature that he loved everybody and seemed to be of the opinion that everyone loved him … which they did. But perhaps not everyone. … I often wondered what Carleton thought of him.
Not that Carleton ever came to the nursery, or showed the slightest interest in the children. He was at Eversleigh now and then, for there was much to be done on the estate and that was his main preoccupation. But he did spend a certain amount of time at Court. He was, Charlotte told me, on terms of intimacy with the King and they enjoyed each other’s company immensely.
Nearly two years had passed since our return to England, and during that time my father had received lands and a title from the King for his services. He was now a baron, Lord Flamstead. This was gratifying and no more than he deserved. My mother was very happy. She had her family with her and I was not so very far off. We could meet now and then and she could have her brood almost completely under her wing. Cromwell’s men had made almost a ruin of Far Flamstead and there was a great deal to do in the restoration of it. It was an exciting project to rebuild, and under my mother’s direction, work was going on apace. She often accompanied my father to Court and she was, I knew, planning to get Lucas married. I doubt she had ever been so happy.
In spite of everything she did not forget me. I knew I had always been the very special favourite of my parents. I was their first child. They had suffered for me. I was a vindication to my father that he could beget healthy children and beneath that rather austere exterior, he was a sentimental man.
If only Edwin were alive, I used to think, I could be perfectly happy.
What celebrations there were when I visited Flamstead. My parents were determined to show me how much I meant to them. I took Edwin with me, and my father-in-law insisted that I travel in his carriage, a new acquisition of which he was very proud, and I set out accompanied by my father-in-law and about twenty men to guard me. I felt very moved that he showed such concern for me. He travelled all the way with us and stayed with us for two days before returning to Eversleigh.
When I arrived my parents said that now I was there with their grandson, their pleasure was complete. I was to stay for two weeks.
It was wonderful to be with my family. Dick, Angie and Fenn had grown up quite a bit. They remembered Congrève, though, and I think, in spite of everything, they looked back on those days with affection and perhaps a certain nostalgia.
They chattered a great deal about the play we had performed and they often mentioned Harriet, of course. Where was Harriet? they wanted to know. She had gone away, I told them. And did she take her baby with her? No, her baby had stayed behind with Edwin. Fenn informed the company that he was an uncle, which brought in a light note. I knew my parents did not want to talk about Harriet.
But my mother brought up the subject when we were alone.
“I am glad she has gone,” she said. “I did not like her being there. She is an adventuress. She imposed on your kindness of heart.”
“Perhaps,” I said, “but we had such fun, Mother. The children loved her. There is something lovable about her. I hope she will be happy.”
My mother shrugged her shoulders. “Gilley is notorious for his mistresses, apparently. She’ll be passed on to someone else, I daresay. Of course she is outstandingly handsome and will not lack lovers now. But when she gets older …”
I felt depressed thinking of an ageing Harriet, poor, lonely, no longer able to appeal to men.
My mother touched my hand lightly. “Don’t worry about her. You have done everything for her. You have even taken on the care of her son.”
“He’s an engaging little fellow.”
“Most babies are,” said my mother indulgently. “Arabella, perhaps before long you will marry again.”
I stared at her in horror.
“My dear child, it would be natural. You are young. You should have someone to care for you.”
“No one could care for me more than the Eversleighs. They are so good to me.”
“I knew they would be and I rejoice. But if you should fall in love again?”
“I couldn’t. You did not know Edwin, Mother. Nobody could be like him. If he had been less perfect … perhaps it would have been easy. But I should compare everyone with him …”
“Later on, perhaps?”
“Never,” I said vehemently.
I rode with my father around the estate. He delighted in showing me his new lands and what he was doing to restore the old ones. On the ruins of the old castle folly my mother was making a beautiful garden. She spent a great deal of time there.
“It is a busy life,” she told me. “I am in London with your father, and when I am weary of that we can come back here. I am hoping Lucas will have a place at Court. The King highly favours your father, although he is not one of his cronies. That could not be. Charles respects him as one of his great generals, but the men who surround him are more like Carleton Eversleigh. Amusing, witty, rather lax in morals … all that the King is himself. I believe Carleton Eversleigh is often in his company.”
“He is frequently at the Court,” I said. “He is very good at managing the estate, I hear, but I believe he is restless and likes variety.”
“Like many men, I daresay. I thank God your father was never like that. That’s the reason why he goes to Court only on business. The King is clever … cleverer than sometimes appears, and while he can be excessively lighthearted with some, your father is very impressed with his seriousness in other matters.”
“Mother, I believe you are a very happy woman.”
“You are right. I have suffered a great deal in my life, as you know. And even when your father and I were married, we were in exile and often separated. Now it seems we have come home to happiness.”
“Is it all as you would want it to be, Mother?”
“Except one thing. I should like to see you happy.”
“l am … as far as I can ever be without Edwin.”
“One day,” she said.
I smiled at her. I wanted to tell her that having known the perfect relationship I could not bring myself to accept something less.
Returning to Eversleigh Court I was given a welcome as warm as that I had had at Flamstead. I certainly had no reason to doubt that I was greatly loved.
Edwin was pounced upon by his grandmother, closely examined and declared more beautiful, more intelligent, than he had been when he went away and, of course, quite perfect.
Sally Nullens told me that Master Leigh had enjoyed having the nursery to himself. He did not regard Edwin’s return with a great deal of enthusiasm, so perhaps that was the explanation. Chastity came with a daisy chain she had made and insisted on putting it round my neck. Ellen had made a tansy cake which she knew I liked, and Charlotte came to my room and told me how relieved she was that I was back safely. Then she gave me an account of Leigh’s doings during my absence and I was happy to think that she was beginning to love the child. Jasper examined the coach to see if any damage had been done to it, and muttered to himself so that I was not sure whether any had been. Poor Jasper, he was an uneasy man, as was to be expected. There were many like him in the neighbourhood, staunch supporters of the Roundheads who were not quite capable of making the easy turnabout as so many were.
It had been a happy visit and it was a gratifying homecoming.
Carleton joined us for dinner—a very happy occasion said my father-in-law because I was back with precious Edwin.
Carleton was fresh from Court with the news from there. We had always heard most of the Court news from him. We knew that the body of Oliver Cromwell and some of his supporters had been dug up and publicly hanged at Tyburn; that some people who had been buried in Henry VII’s chapel and at Westminster were dug up and buried in an ordinary churchyard. We knew that there were many who sought revenge on those who had turned them out of their country and put them in exile.
But, said Carleton, the King is weary of these recriminations. He says, “Enough. What he wants to do is to be left in easy peace with his subjects. He’ll love them if they love him; and if they will take him with all his faults, he’ll take them. He is an easygoing man who finds quarrelling dull and witless, for it brings no good to any.”
I said: “He sounds pleasant but perhaps a little weak.”
“Treason,” cried Carleton. “What if I report you to His Majesty?”
“As he wants me to accept his faults, he must accept mine,” I retorted.
Carleton laughed and said: “How is my little cousin, the all important one?”
“You mean my son?”
“Who else?”
“He fares very well, thank you.”
“Quite a man now. What is he? Two years old?”
“Yes, he is two.”
“Old enough to show his character. I wonder if he will be like his father.”
“I hope and pray so,” I said fervently.
Carleton nodded. “Easygoing,” he murmured. “Wanting all to love him and being ready to love everybody.”
“That’s what you said of the King.”
“Some of us share these characteristics.”
“And you?”
“Ah, I am an unknown quantity. There is only one thing you know of me and that is that you know nothing about me.”
“That,” said Matilda, “is a little example of Carleton’s Court talk.”
“Very subtle,” I said.
“Ah, now you mock me. Let me say how glad I am that you are safely back. I trust you will go to Town for the wedding.”
“Wedding?”
“That of our Sovereign Lord and the Infanta of Portugal. I heard she is a pretty little thing but homely, and she is to bring us Bombay and Tangiers with her dowry. Barbara Castlemaine is fuming. She’ll brook no rival. What airs these women give themselves!”
“I’ll dare swear we shall be expected to go for the wedding celebrations,” said Lord Eversleigh.
“Yes,” said Carleton. “I think it will be expected of you.”
“I shall not want to leave Edwin,” I said quickly.
Carleton was watching me intently. “I believe you think there are malicious influences at work against that child.”
“They would have little chance if there were,” retorted Matilda. “I never knew a child more cared for!”
I was deeply aware of Carleton’s gaze and felt an alarm stirring within me again.
Time was passing quickly. Life had settled into a pattern. My mother still thought of finding a husband for me but I always eluded them. I could not forget Edwin. I looked back and saw the happiness I had shared with him, and I felt that if ever I married again it would be disloyal to his memory. I had decided that I would devote myself to my son, for Edwin lived again in him.
Edwin was now four years old. Bright, intelligent and getting so like his father that I sometimes felt like weeping when I saw him. He was quite different from Leigh, who was noisy and always liked Edwin’s toys better than his own. Edwin was of a mild nature, peaceable. He would smile seraphically even when Leigh snatched what was his. I used to remonstrate sometimes and tell him he must stand up for what he wanted. Edwin admired Leigh and was happy to play with him. Leigh was artful enough to realize this and used it as a form of blackmail. I could see his mother in Leigh just as I could see Edwin’s father in him.
It was about this time that Lucas married. Her name was Maria and she was the daughter of Lord Cray, one of the members of the Court circle. Lucas had become debonair and as the son of my father very welcome at Court. He planned to go into politics and was already making his way in that direction.
It was silly of me not to want to stir from the country, but I didn’t. I knew, of course, that I should have to go to London for the wedding which was to take place at the Crays’ town residence. My mother visited us a month or so before and she said I must really bestir myself. It was foolish of me to bury myself in the country. I should meet interesting people, and now that Edwin was getting older and Sally Nullens had proved herself so reliable, she was going to insist on my emerging from my cocoon.
I knew what she was thinking of, a marriage for me. Lucas would be happily settled; it would be Dick’s turn next. And there was I, her eldest daughter, shutting myself away in the country! It would not do.
I must admit that when she sent for the seamstress and showed me some of the latest fashions, which were becoming very extravagant and amusing, I felt a certain excitement bubbling up within me. She pulled my hair loose and demonstrated some of the new styles. We laughed together over the foretop—an odd loop of hair on the forehead and the loose curls on the brow which were called “favourites.” We couldn’t decide which suited me best—curls close to the cheeks which were known as “confidents,” or drawn away from the face and looped over the ears which were “heartbreakers.”
My mother said: “You see what fun it is to mingle with society.”
“We entertain now and then at Eversleigh. Matilda enjoys it.”
“I know. But this is not London, my child. You are behind the times here. You should visit Town more often. You should know what is going on. You should attend the theatre now and then. The changes that have been made there are astonishing. The King is devoted to the theatre and often goes. You are shutting yourself away with the past. I am going to stop it. This visit will be a start.”
I shook my head. “I have come to love Eversleigh Court,” I said. “The countryside is beautiful. I love to ride out. Charlotte and I are good friends.
“Ah, there is another! I cannot understand you young girls. How different I was. I wanted life … adventure … So much is changing now, Arabella. You would be amazed at what is happening. After the age of the Puritans we have swung in the other direction. Too far, some say. I expect they are right. Now for your gowns. You need them badly. What you wear here will not do for London, I do assure you.”
To be with my mother was a stimulation. She seemed younger than Charlotte and younger than myself in my present mood. She radiated such happiness. She was so clearly delighted with her life that I caught something of her enthusiasm and I was excited by the prospect she was holding out to me.
I would laugh at her as she sat there while I was fitted. She insisted that the sleeves of my gowns leave my arms bare to the elbow.
“Such pretty arms,” she crooned. “Then I had dresses with the sleeves slit all the way and caught here and there with ribbons.”
“The height of fashion!” she exulted. She had brought with her silks, brocades and velvets. “You should see the shops in London. Every shopkeeper is determined to outdo all the others and so it goes on. I declare that the men are looking even prettier than the women. Lucas has Rhingrave breeches seamed with scarlet and silver lace. I can tell you, your brother is a sight to be seen!”
And while I was fitted and paraded I felt a change creeping over me. I felt young and gay again and suddenly I remembered that it was when Harriet had gone out of my life that I had found much of its savour gone.
I said to my mother: “Have you seen anything of Sir James Gilley lately?”
She hesitated for a moment. “Why, yes, he was at some Court function a few months ago. I saw him riding in the park. I hear his new mistress is a very notorious lady. She is very young, barely sixteen, and has the distinction of having pleased the King … briefly.”
Oh, Harriet, I thought, what are you doing now?
It was strange to think of Lucas as a married man. His bride was a pretty girl and they were clearly in love, which delighted my parents. Although they wanted a suitable marriage for Lucas, they would not have been completely happy if the pair had not been in love.
He was no longer my little brother. I could not subdue him. I was the sister up from the country and he could patronize me as I used to him.
It was a turnabout I did not relish, and I knew then that my mother was right. I had shut myself away with no interest but in domestic matters when great events were going on in the world.
Lucas’s wedding was celebrated with a banquet and a ball. I knew little of the new dancing but I had a natural rhythm and was able to make a reasonable showing.
My parents presented me with pride to people whom they thought would please me, and so I met several young men who, I suppose would be called eligible. Many of them had known Edwin and the fact that I was his young widow made me a figure of interest. But having known and loved Edwin I found every one of them suffered in comparison. Their wide breeches edged with lace, their flowing cravats, their enormous wigs, their brocade and satin coats, with ribbons everywhere, about their waists, in their shirt-sleeves, even tying their periwigs, made them seem like exquisite popinjays. It was hard to think of these delicate scented creatures as men. How different from my father and Lord Eversleigh in their uniforms which gave them such dignity. I felt nothing but the need to escape from these scented creatures with their swift repartee and a sort of spurious wit and constant innuendo.
I was a widow and therefore no inexperienced virgin. I was supposed to understand and to respond to their overtures.
I was rather relieved when Carleton Eversleigh took my hand and led me into the dance.
“I am not an expert performer,” he warned me. “But at least I can rescue you from poor Jemmy Trimble. He’s a foolish fellow and I could see how he wearied you.”
I raised my eyebrows and he went on: “Mind you, you might consider the change one for the worst.”
I replied: “It was good of you to give me a thought.”
“It is not good at all to follow one’s inclination. I saw you and thought how charming you look in fashionable garments. You should adorn the fashionable scene more often. You bring a freshness to it. You have a look of coming from another sphere.”
“The country mouse, perhaps?”
“Mice can be such pretty things, especially when they come from the country.”
“And what are all these exquisite creatures? Cats, I suppose, come to catch the mice?”
“Exactly. They are on the prowl. You see they have so recently been let out to roam freely. They can now adventure in the open. Their wickedness has become merely amusing. It earns them a laugh from their friends instead of eternal damnation as in the past.”
“You are very flippant.”
“It was ever a failing of mine. But without flippancy of any sort I will say how it delights me to see you here. You have at last decided to trust precious Edwin to his nurses. I’ll warrant you are wondering even at this moment whether he is safe. Admit it.”
“I do think about him.”
“Old Sally Nullens looked after his father and his aunt. She is like an angel with a flaming sword. I can tell you I had one or two brushes with her when I was trying to make a man of Edwin. She was afraid a little rough treatment would kill her darling. I wonder if history is going to repeat itself?”
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t have little Edwin growing up into an effeminate young gentleman afraid to venture out in case a drop of rain gives him a cold.”
“I shall know how to bring him up.”
“In some ways, yes. You will smother him with love and devotion. But even now he is aware that if he becomes too venturesome Mama is thrown into a panic. ‘What would your dear mama say?’ asks Sally Nullens. ‘That’s dangerous, that is.’ And little Edwin thinks: ‘I must be careful. I am so precious. I might get hurt if I did that.’ That’s no way to bring up a boy, Cousin Arabella.”
“You exaggerate. He will be taught riding, fencing, everything that a boy ought to know.”
“He lacks a father. Now a child needs both his parents. The mother’s loving care and the father’s guiding hand.”
“It is good of you to be so concerned.”
“Concerned. Of course I’m concerned. We are talking about the future Lord Eversleigh. Young Edwin will have a big responsibility and so will you.”
“His grandfather is going to live a good many years yet.”
“We hope that will be so, but when a grandson inherits he usually does so before he is mature. That is why Edwin will have to be rather especially reared for his role. I promise to help you. It is, after all, my affair. In a way I am his guardian. I know the Eversleigh affairs as well as my uncle does. You forget that before Edwin was born and after his father was dead, I was the heir to all that will now pass to your son.”
I could not completely suppress the shiver which ran through me.
“Oh, yes,” he went on. “Twice my expectations have been foiled. Once long ago before your husband was born—for I am some years older—I believe that on my uncle’s death all would pass to me. Then Edwin appeared and I took a step back. Edwin died and I took one step forward. Then little Edwin arrives and I am back where I was.”
“You are … resentful?”
“Wise men are not resentful of fate, dear Cousin. What is to be will be. That’s a wise saying for how could it be otherwise, and to rail against what is is a waste of time. I speak thus to show you what an interest I have in the Eversleigh inheritance, and I want your son to be worthy of it when it comes to him.”
“I believe his grandfather is fully aware of this. He will take Edwin in hand as soon as he is of an age to understand.”
“And I will play my part. I hope you will not marry rashly.”
“I have no intention of marrying rashly or otherwise.”
“Sometimes these intentions come overnight. I believe you met and married Edwin within a short space of time, so perhaps you are a lady who makes up her mind quickly. I sympathize. It is a habit of my own. I know what I want and I go out to get it … as I am sure you do. But I want you to know that I am at hand to help you.”
“I will remember that.”
“I wish that I were free to help more.”
I did not understand and I was silent. I heard him laugh quietly and there might have been a hint of mockery in that laugh. “I could think of a good solution to young Edwin’s future. Alas, there are too many obstacles.”
“I really don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Briefly, what a good thing it would be if you had the inclination to marry and I were free.”
I drew away from him in horror.
“Oh, I am merely thinking of the convenience of the matter. Nothing more, I do assure you. Merely a supposition, you see. ‘If’ and ‘if’ and ‘if’ again.”
“An insurmountable barrier of ‘ifs,’” I said grimly. “I can see my father. He is looking this way. If you will take me to him.”
“Your pleasure is mine. Oh, one thing more. You should visit the theatre while you are in Town. I am arranging a party for tomorrow. Charlotte will come and my uncle. I am asking your parents and I trust you will be of the party.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He disturbed me, that man. I did not like the manner in which he had pressed my hand as he had talked. If it had not been for the mockery in his eyes and the light and flippant talk to which I was becoming accustomed, I should have been more than a little alarmed. I could not believe that I heard aright. Could he really have meant that if circumstances were different we might have married! Of course it would be simply for Edwin’s sake. He saw himself as the only one who could bring up my son in a suitable manner and that was because little Edwin had stepped in and taken what Carleton had hoped would be his. But in any case he was married. Thank God for that. What an extraordinary man! What an extraordinary conversation! But that was the changing society. It was growing more and more daring. People behaved as though they had been in prison for years and now that they were let out wanted to make up for the suppressions of the past.
There was something about Carleton Eversleigh which disturbed me. I would not admit it to myself, but somewhere at the back of my mind I accepted the fact that he had a powerful effect on me. My mother had said something which I couldn’t forget. It was: “Women like us should marry. We are not meant to live alone.” I knew then that she was thinking of her sister Angelet who had disliked physical contact and consequently had ruined her marriage. I did not fully understand myself in this respect. My relationship with Edwin had been completely satisfying. I had shared his passion and yet I could not feel desire for anyone else. I longed for Edwin. I was still in love with Edwin and I believed I should be for the rest of my life. I wanted Edwin, but I could not think of putting anyone in his place.
Perhaps I was not fully grown. Perhaps I was as Carleton had said, the country mouse. Certainly it seemed that in the few days I had spent here in this society which was so different from that of Eversleigh, my horizons were extending. I was beginning to wonder whether my view of life was too simple. Black had been black, and white, white. I had failed to see the shading in between.
These brought me back to Carleton. I believed him to be a rake. He fitted into this licentious society. He had a wife and I was well aware that they went, as they said, “their own ways.” I supposed that sort of life suited them both. They set great store on what they called “their freedom.” But were they happy? I wondered. I was not sure. There was so much of which I was not sure and particularly regarding Carleton.
What disturbed me about Carleton was that as soon as he entered a room I was aware of him. He was taller than most men and he had an air of complete indifference to the effect he was having, which I suppose would be called poise. Certainly he gave the impression that nothing would ruffle him. Edwin had lacked that. Edwin was always eager to make everyone feel easy and happy. Carleton gave the impression that he was indifferent to them. He was so sure of himself. Arrogant! I thought. And something else besides. There was in him an essential masculinity which was apparent in spite of the fashionable garments he wore. No amount of velvet and brocade could make Carleton effeminate.
I wondered why he spent so much time at Court when I was sure that his heart was at Eversleigh. But of course having lost his inheritance he would need to make a career for himself and perhaps he would do that at Court. At the same time he was concerned for Eversleigh. He wanted to bring young Edwin up that he might be worthy to undertake his duties.
All sorts of thoughts were whirling round in my mind—I refused to catch them and examine them. I didn’t want to. Some were wildly absurd … too ridiculous to consider for a moment.
But I wished I could stop thinking of Carleton Eversleigh.
My parents had another engagement and could not join us, so it was my father-in-law, Charlotte, Carleton and myself who rode to the playhouse in Lord Eversleigh’s carriage. It was an adventure in itself to ride through the London streets to the King’s House in Drury Lane. Those streets were full of noise and bustle. Carriages like our own were making their way to the playhouse and in them sat exquisitely clad gallants and patched and painted ladies. What a contrast they were to ragged beggars and those who lived by their wits. I saw them darting about among the passers-by, and I am sure many of the latter would be poorer by their purses before the night was out. The streets were ill-lit and mostly cobbled, dirty and unsavoury, and I should not have liked to be on foot and splashed by the filth which was thrown up by carriage wheels. I had never seen such a contrast of riches and poverty as there was on the streets of London.
“Never venture far on foot,” Carleton warned me. “You would not be safe for a moment.”
“I daresay,” I retorted, “that I could give as good an account of myself as anyone.”
“My dear,” put in Lord Eversleigh, “these beggars are skilled at their craft. They have a hundred villainies at their fingertips. There are trained bands of thieves roaming the streets.”
“The night watchmen, I hear, are of little use,” added Charlotte.
“You are right. They have become something of a joke,” replied Carleton. “Poor fellows, every night they take their lives in their hands.”
“What a dangerous place London is!” I cried. “I wonder why people set such store by it.”
“It is alive, Cousin,” said Carleton, fixing his eyes on me. They glowed with some emotion. Amusement, contempt, indulgence? I wasn’t sure. “I would rather face danger than stagnation. I am sure you would too.”
“Is it stagnation to live in quiet dignity?”
“Ha, you see, my lord, your daughter-in-law loves a discourse. I do not complain. I do myself. One of these days, dear cousin, we will thrash out the matter, for now, if I mistake not, we are turning into Drury Lane and you will have your introduction to the King’s theatre. This is His Majesty’s favourite, I do believe, and the Duke’s in Lincoln Inn does not enjoy the same patronage, for naturally fashion follows the King.”
As we alighted from the carriage, beggars pressed round us. I wanted to give them something, but Carleton had his arm through mine and drew me away.
“Never open your purse in the streets,” he whispered, “even though you have a protector.”
I disliked the way in which he said the word “protector,” but I could not protest as Lord Eversleigh and Charlotte would have heard and I thought might have wondered why I always wanted to take up Carleton’s words and contradict them.
I shall never forget my first sight of the interior of the playhouse. There was a magic about it and I guessed I was not the only one who felt this. We were in a box close to the stage, which gave me an opportunity to study the rest of the audience. There was a great deal of noise as patrons came in. There was the pit, which I should have felt not the best place to sit, for the roof above it was open and I imagined what would happen if the rain came in. The occupants of that part of the playhouse would have to scatter or be drenched. The middle gallery was slightly more expensive than the gallery above, which was now filling rapidly.
In the box opposite was a very fine lady in a mask, and with her an overdressed gentleman. The gentleman bowed as we entered and Carleton and Lord Eversleigh bowed back. The gentleman—if he deserved such a name—fixed his gaze on first me and then Charlotte and then came back to me.
“I hate these insolent men,” muttered Charlotte.
“Dear Cousin, that is Lord Weldon,” explained Carleton. “He thinks he does you an honour by gazing on you.”
“An insult more likely,” retorted Charlotte.
“His lady does not like it.”
“And who is she?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me. He changes mistresses every night.”
“Perhaps one day he’ll find his Scheherazade,” I suggested.
“She’ll need more than exciting tales to keep him, I do assure you.”
“At least she does not want us to see her face, since she is masked.”
“A fashion, Cousin.”
“Should we not have worn them?”
“You have no need to hide behind them. You are in respectable company. Weldon has his eye on you though. It would not surprise me if he seeks me out tomorrow with eager enquiries.”
“I hope you will reply to him in a suitable manner, and let him know that you consider his impertinence an insult to your family.”
“Dear Cousin, I will challenge him to a duel if that pleases you.”
“Duelling should be stopped,” said Lord Eversleigh. “It’s against the law in any case.”
“Agreed, Uncle, but although we ourselves might be guilty of insulting certain ladies, we must become incensed when insults are directed against our own.” Carleton was smiling cynically and I turned away from him, and looked below to where the orange girls with their baskets were trying to tempt the members of the audience to buy, and exchanging badinage with the men. There were scuffles as the girls were seized and some of the men tried to kiss them. Oranges rolled on the floor, and people trying to retrieve them scrambled about shrieking with laughter.
The place was filled with noise and the smell of none too clean humanity; yet it excited me. I was all eagerness for the play.
It was to be The Merry Wives of Windsor. Carleton told us that it had to be comedy. Nobody wanted tragedy anymore. They wanted laughter not tears. “Tears went out with the Roundheads.” They wanted frolics on the stage, not falling bodies. And what they wanted most was women on the stage. For so long men had taken women’s parts and although some like Edward Kynaston took women’s parts still, and looked so pretty on the stage that it was said many women fell in love with him and used to wait for him after the play and take him out in their carriages, it was the women who were now appearing on the stage who were largely responsible for its growing popularity.
Carleton told us how the King had gone to see Hamlet in which Kynaston was playing the Queen, and when the play was late in starting Charles demanded to know why. The manager, beside himself with anxiety, went to the royal box and explained: “May it please Your Majesty, the Queen is not yet shaved.”
His Majesty was highly delighted with the explanation and was in a particularly good mood which reflected throughout the playhouse and made a success of the play.
“His Majesty, of course, has already shown himself somewhat partial to the ladies,” said Carleton. “And his loyal subjects like to follow him in all his ways.”
Lord Eversleigh shook his head. “I say this out of no lack of loyalty,” he said, “but I think it would make his loyal subjects happier if he were more devoted to his Queen—and less to those harpies who surround him.”
“The Castlemaine’s hold is as strong as ever,” Carleton put in. “But that does not prevent the royal eye roving and the playhouse has much to offer … as you will see when the play begins.”
He seemed to be amused by some secret joke. I wondered what. I was soon to discover, for candles set along the front of the stage were lighted and the play was about to begin.
Shallow and Slender had emerged, but for a few moments nothing could be heard because of the noise in the audience. Shallow came to the front of the stage and some shouted: “Look out. You’ll catch your breeches in the flame.”
Shallow held up a hand. “My lords and ladies, one and all. I beg silence that we may play before you.”
The manner in which he spoke took me back to a snowy night in Congrève when the strolling players had come. The dramatic cadences and gestures reminded me of the strolling players.
The audience grew quieter and some shouted: “Come on, then, man.”
“With your permission,” said Shallow making a deep bow.
The play had begun.
Never having been in a playhouse before I was in a state of great excitement. I had always loved to playact and now I was seeing it done in a professional manner. I knew the play and I settled to enjoy myself.
It was scene one of act two when Mistress Page came onto the stage.
“What! have I ’scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am now a subject for them?”
She was holding the paper in her hand and my heart leaped as I watched her. There was no mistaking her. Harriet!
I turned and saw Carleton’s eyes on me. He was smiling sardonically. He had known. He had brought us here for this purpose.
I turned my attention to the stage. She had changed little. Perhaps she was less slim. Perhaps she was a little older. But she was as beautiful as ever.
I was aware that Charlotte had grown tense. She had recognized her too.
I turned my attention back to the stage. I could not stop looking at Harriet. She had that magnetism of which I had always been aware and the audience was, too, for they had ceased to fidget and cough and there was a deep silence in the playhouse.
I was deeply moved. I could not follow the play, I could only think of Harriet. What had happened to her? How had she come to this? Had James Gilley discarded her or had she left him of her own free will? Was she happy? Was she doing what she wanted? I would speak to her tonight.
I was aware of Charlotte tense beside me.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Did you see?” she whispered.
I nodded.
“He must have left her. She has come to this. …”
Carleton whispered, “Silence, ladies. This audience oddly seems intent upon the stage.”
I kept thinking of her, wondering about her. I felt exhilarated because I had seen her again.
“I must go to her,” I said. “I cannot leave without seeing her.”
Charlotte cried: “No, Arabella! It is wrong. We do not want to see her again.”
“I can’t ignore her,” I said. “I want to see her.”
Carleton said: “I’ll take you to their green-room. She’ll be there, I doubt not.”
“Thank you,” I answered.
“Always at your service,” he whispered.
I could see that he knew his way about the playhouse. The management knew him too. We met a man and told him that we were friends of Mistress Page and would like a word with her.
It could be arranged, was the answer and I saw money pass between them.
For the first time I was grateful to Carleton.
We were shown into a small room and very soon Harriet came in.
“Harriet!” I cried, and I could not stop myself rushing towards her and putting my arms about her.
She embraced me. “I saw you in the box,” she said, “and I knew you would come to see me.”
Carleton bowed. “Your performance was superb,” he said.
She bowed her head. “Thank you, good sir.”
“I will leave you to talk and come and collect you in ten minutes, Cousin.”
Harriet grimaced as the door shut. “I never liked him,” she said.
“Harriet, what are you doing here?”
“I should have thought that was obvious.”
“Are you … do you …”
“I am one of Thomas Killigrew’s players and, believe me, that is something of an achievement.”
“But Sir James …”
“Him! Oh he was just a stepping-stone. I had to get away. He was there … providing the means.”
“So you weren’t in love with him.”
“In love! Oh, my dear romantic Arabella, always thinking of love. What’s the good of love to a girl who has to keep a roof over her head and has a fancy for the luxuries of life.”
“You are so beautiful. You could have married Charles Condey.”
“I see you had sour-faced Charlotte in the box tonight. I’ll warrant she won’t be here to see me.”
“You treated her rather badly, Harriet.”
“Badly? By being kind to a young man who clearly didn’t want Charlotte? But we waste time. Tell me, what are you doing? How do you like England now? How are the boys?”
“Very well and happy.”
“And young Leigh?”
“He’s handsome and knows how to stand up for himself.”
“He gets that from me, and you’re a good mother to him, are you?”
“Harriet, how could you leave him?”
“How could I take him with me? Oh, it was a wrench but what could I do? I could see I wouldn’t have been very welcome with you. Madame Charlotte would hardly want me there. Your mother was not prepared to issue an invitation. It was poor Harriet all alone again. So I said: James Gilley will get me there and I’ll be with him until I’m tired. I always wanted to get onto the stage and here l am.”
“Is it a good life, Harriet?”
She burst out laughing. “Dear Arabella, you always amused me. For me it’s good enough. Full of ups and downs … always exciting. I was made for it. And you? Still brooding for Edwin?”
“There was never anyone like him.”
“What of Carleton?”
“What of him?”
“He has a reputation for being irresistible. I’ve heard he can pick and choose. Castlemaine herself has her eyes on him. He’s a bit too wily for that. He doesn’t want to get in the Black Boy’s bad books.”
“I don’t understand all this talk.”
“Castlemaine’s the King’s mistress and the Black Boy is H.M. himself. Carleton’s quite a character. He sets the town wagging with gossip and then he slips off to Eversleigh and stays there for a while. I hear he is furious because there is now a baby heir. Your own sweet child, Arabella. Oh, there’s quite a bit of gossip about Carleton Eversleigh and I lap it up … having once been a connection of sorts.”
“Harriet, I want to know that you’re happy.”
“I want to know that you are.”
“As happy as I can be without Edwin. Reassure me, Harriet.”
“As happy as I can be without a grand mansion of my own and a fortune so that I can live in luxury until the end of my days.”
“Oh, Harriet,” I said, “it’s been wonderful seeing you.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet again. I intend to be the toast of the London playhouses. Carleton will be coming to take you back now. I’m glad you came, Arabella. There’ll always be something, won’t there, between us two?”
She smiled at me somewhat enigmatically. I couldn’t make out whether she was really happy or not. I felt frustrated and uneasy. I wanted to persuade her to give up the stage and come back with me to Eversleigh.
I knew I couldn’t. For one thing she would refuse, and for another my new family would never agree to it.
I said good-bye to her, and as she kissed me she said: “We’ll meet again. Our lives, as they say in plays, are interwoven while we are on earth together.”
It was the most exciting experience of my trip to London.