GEOFFREY INSISTED THAT WE keep our promise, and we had met several times during the year. He would ride out to Eversleigh on the slightest pretext, and it seemed as though some business constantly brought him our way. Both Edwin and Leigh delighted in his visits and used to vie with each other to ride on his shoulders. He would carry them through the house and allow them to make crosses on the beams with a piece of chalk which meant that we should have good luck.
Carleton had accepted the news of Barbary’s death without emotion. I supposed it would have been quite false for him to have pretended grief considering the nature of the relationship between them. He merely shrugged his shoulders and said: “Poor Barbary. She had a talent for getting herself into awkward situations.” He looked at me quizzically and went on: “I know you are thinking that the most unfortunate of these was her marriage to me and you’re right.”
He went back to London but it was not long before he was back and he made a point of spending time in my company.
I was not really displeased about this although I pretended to myself that I was, which was foolish of me, of course, but I’m afraid I was rather foolish at this time. It was becoming clear to me that Geoffrey’s visits were not without some meaning. We liked each other very much. We had both been widowed. We had loved and lost and perhaps were both looking for someone who could give us companionship and fill that void which I was sure he felt in his life as I did in mine.
Geoffrey was a cautious man. I should admire that in him. He would not be the sort to rush into a relationship without having given it considerable thought beforehand. I believed that now he was weighing up the situation. He wanted to know so much about me; he wanted to make sure that we should be happy together.
It was wise, I told myself, and if not as romantic as my love for Edwin and his presumably for his dead wife, it was sensible.
I would never love anyone as I loved Edwin. I kept telling myself that. But should I deny myself the pleasures of marriage because I could no longer share them with Edwin?
There was my son, too. Perhaps he needed a father. He was surrounded by love. He lacked nothing really, and yet I had noticed how he loved to be with Geoffrey who could give him a certain kind of companionship which I couldn’t.
These were the thoughts which were in my mind on a lovely, sunny June day in that year 1666.
I was in the garden gathering roses, which I loved to arrange in containers and set about the house. I liked their scent to fill my rooms. I had always had a fancy for the damask rose, perhaps because my great-great-great-grandmother had been born at the time Thomas Linacre brought it to England and had been named after it.
I heard the sounds of arrival, and I immediately thought of Geoffrey, and as always when he called on us I would ask myself: I wonder if it will be today?
I always hoped not, because I was unsure. I could see so many reasons for saying yes and so many for refusing. Such a good father for Edwin, I thought. And I was fond of him. He was pleasant, charming, kindly. The sort of man one could rely on always … very different from …
Why should I want to think of Carleton at such a moment?
“Carleton!” He was there grinning at me and I felt that foolish flush rising to my cheeks.
“A charming picture,” he said. “The lady of the roses.” He took the basket from me and smelled the blooms. “Delicious,” he said looking at me.
“Oh, thank you, Carleton.”
“You look as if you were expecting someone else. Geoffrey Gillingham has become a very frequent visitor. Do you know, I begin to regret bringing him here.”
“Why should you? We all like him very much.”
“And he likes us … or some of us … and some of us probably like him better than others. Give me the basket. We’ll sit by the willows. I want to talk to you.”
“I have not finished gathering the roses yet. I want more of them.”
“You have enough here.”
“Pray, let me be the best judge of that.”
“Dear Cousin Arabella, you can trust my judgement in this matter. What I have to say to you is of far greater moment than a basket of roses.”
“Say on, then.”
“Not here. I want you to sit down and give me your undivided attention.”
“As serious as that?”
He nodded and looked grave.
“Edwin,” I began.
“Yes, it concerns Edwin.”
“Carleton, is something wrong?”
“By no means. It could be right … very right …”
“Then pray tell me. Why do you beat about the bush?”
“It is you who are beating about bushes … rosebushes. Come and sit down and I’ll tell you at once.”
He had alarmed me, and I allowed myself to be led to the stone seat sheltered by the weeping willow trees.
“Well?” I said.
“I want you to marry me.”
“Marry you!”
“Why not? I’m free now and so are you. It would be the best possible answer to everything.”
“Everything! I’m afraid I don’t …”
He had seized me suddenly so that I was taken off my guard. He was kissing my face and caressing me in a way in which no one but Edwin ever had.
I tried to hold him back, but his strength was greater than mine and clearly he meant to remain in charge of the situation.
I whipped up my anger.
“How dare you!”
“I would dare everything for you,” he said. “Don’t be prudish, Arabella. You know you want me as I want you. Why make a secret of something so obvious?”
“Obvious?” I cried. “To whom?”
“To me, and that’s the one it should be obvious to. I sense it every time we meet. You’re crying out for me. You want me.”
“You have the most extraordinarily high opinion of your charms. I can assure you I want nothing so much at this moment as to be out of your sight.”
He looked at me, his mouth turned down in mock dismay and his eyes alight with mischief.
“Not true,” he said.
“Absolutely true. How dare you take me away from my …”
“Roses,” he supplied.
“From what I want to do to bring me here under false pretences.”
“What false pretences?”
“That something was wrong with Edwin.”
“Something is wrong with Edwin. He’s rapidly become a spoilt child tied to Mama’s apron strings.”
“How dare you! …”
“Speak the truth? The boy needs a guiding hand. Mine. And he’s going to get it. He has to learn that there is something more in the world than love and kisses.”
“From what I’ve heard these things play quite a part in your life.”
“You are speaking of my reputation, which interests you. There is never smoke without fire, so they say, and it is true that I am a man of experience. …”
“Not in bringing up a child.”
“But I am. But for me, your late husband would not have been the man he was. I was the one who brought him up. I was the one who made a man of him.”
“I wonder what his father would say to that.”
“He would confirm my story. He was away from home and Edwin’s mother doted on him just as you do on his namesake.”
“In any case Edwin left England when he was ten years old, I believe, and your shining influence must then have been removed from his life.”
“It is the formative years that are important … from five until ten.”
“How is it that you are so knowledgeable on these matters?”
“It can’t have escaped you that I am knowledgeable on many matters.”
“It has not escaped me that that is your opinion of yourself.”
“It is always better to believe the best of oneself. After all, there are so many people to believe the worst. But enough of this. I want to marry you. You are too young to live as you do. You need a husband. You need me. I have wanted this for a long time, but now that I am free to make the proposal there is no need for further delay.”
“No delay is necessary. Your proposal is declined.”
“Arabella, I am going to marry you.”
“You have forgotten that it takes two to agree to marry.”
“You will agree. I promise you.”
“Don’t be so lavish with your promises. This one is certainly going to be broken.”
He caught my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. “I can make yet another promise. Once you are mine you will never want to leave me.”
I laughed. A wild excitement had taken possession of me. If I were honest, I would admit that I hadn’t enjoyed anything so much for a long time. It was so wonderful to be able to deflate his pride, to let him know that I had no intention of letting him tell me what I should do.
“Then … I shall never be yours, as you put it.”
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
“I am completely sure of it.”
“You are making a mistake, Arabella.”
“In refusing your offer?”
“No, in thinking that I shall not take you.”
“You talk as though I’m a pawn on a chess board.”
“More important than that. A very important piece, in fact. My queen.”
“Still to be used at your will.”
“Yes,” he said, “at my will.”
“I’ve had enough of this.” I rose.
“I have not,” he said, and rising with me placed both his hands on my shoulders and forced me down on the seat.
“I see that you would make a rough-mannered husband,” I said.
“When the occasion demands it, but on every occasion you will find me just the right husband for you.”
I said seriously: “There has only been one who can be that and I thank God that he was, even briefly.”
He raised his eyes to the sky. “The sainted Edwin,” he said.
“Pray do not mock him.”
“You are like everyone else, Arabella. You disappoint me. I always thought you were different. As soon as a man’s heart ceases to beat he becomes a saint.”
“I did not say Edwin was a saint. I said he was the most wonderful man I ever knew or ever shall know and no one else can take his place with me.”
“It’s a mistake to deify human beings, Arabella.”
“I loved Edwin,” I said seriously. “I still love Edwin. Can’t you understand? No one … no one … can take his place with me.”
“You’re wrong. Someone will supplant him. That is what you are going to discover when you marry me.”
“I want to hear no more.”
“You shall hear more. I am going to talk to you …”
He was silent suddenly and I looked at him in amazement. His mood had changed. He said: “Do you think I am afraid of the dead? I am afraid of no one, Arabella. Certainly not saints with feet of clay. They can topple so easily.”
“Stop sneering at Edwin. You are unworthy to unlatch his boots.”
“Boots are no longer unlatched and that remark would be considered highly irreverent by Jasper.”
“I am not concerned with Jasper.”
“But you should be concerned with truth.”
“I am going back to my roses,” I said. “Your wife is so recently dead …”
“Barbary would laugh at that if she heard you. You know what our marriage was like.”
“All the more reason why I should refuse you. She has set an example of what not to do.”
“But you are not Barbary.”
“You would never be faithful to any woman.”
“A challenge, my dearest Arabella. Just think how exciting it would be for her to make me.”
“She might not think it worth the trouble. Barbary didn’t.”
“Poor Barbary. She knew it would be hopeless. But why do we constantly talk of the dead? I’m alive. You’re alive. We’re two vital people. You’ve been only half alive for many years, it’s true. Come out of your shell and live.”
“My life has been full and interesting. I have had my child.”
“Oh, come. You have shut yourself in with the dead. You have built a shrine and worshipped at it. It’s a false shrine. Edwin is dead. You are alive. You have a child. You need me. I can make you happy. I can help bring up your son. We’ll have our own … sons and daughters. I want you, Arabella. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. All this time I have been patient. But I can stand aside no longer. I’m going to wake you up … show you what you have been missing. You’re a woman, Arabella, not a romantic girl.”
“I know exactly what I am, Carleton. I know what I want and that it is not to marry you. Now … good afternoon.”
I stood up and started to stalk away, but as I did so I tripped over the rose basket. He caught me and his arms were round me. I felt him tilt back my head and kiss my throat. I was overcome by horror because I wanted him to go on. He had aroused memories of lovemaking with Edwin and I felt ashamed of my feelings.
I forced myself back from him and he looked at me mockingly, still holding me.
“Pride goeth before a fall,” he said. “If I had not been here to rescue you, you would have slipped. You see, it’s symbolic. You need me to protect you.”
“I never needed anything less.”
“One thing I insist on in my wife is truthfulness.”
“And I hope when you find one you will give her the same in return.”
“Why fight the inevitable?”
“I think you are the most arrogant man I have ever met.”
“I confess you are not the first to have told me this.”
I wrenched myself free and turned away. I broke into a run, but he was beside me, the rose basket on one arm, the other he thrust through mine and held it tightly against him.
“Now, dearest Arabella, you will go into the house and think over what I have said. Remember again how delightful it was when I held you in my arms. Brood on the pleasures that await us both. Then you can think of Edwin … the living one, I mean. Let us forget that other. He is dead and gone and best not brought back to live in your thoughts. You are better without him. Forget the past, Arabella. Perhaps it wasn’t quite what you thought. Pictures are different when seen from afar. It is wise not to look too closely at them. So look ahead. Just think what this would mean. This our home for the rest of our lives. So many problems are solved.”
“I begin to see your motives.”
“It is very agreeable when so many things are in our favour.”
“You have always wanted Eversleigh, haven’t you?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“And it will come to Edwin. You want to control it …”
“I control Eversleigh now, Arabella. I have since I was of an age to do so. My uncle being in the King’s army cannot give his estates the attention they need. We have always realized that.”
“But there will come a time when Edwin is of age …”
“We have much to enjoy before that day. Let us make the best of life.”
I wrenched myself free from him. “I shall certainly not do that with you,” I said.
I ran into the house, leaving him standing there holding the rose basket.
I did not miss it until much later, which showed to what a state he had reduced me. I could not stop thinking of him, and I tried hard to think of Edwin and how much I had loved him and how wonderful our life would have been. As if anything could ever be like that again, even with a kind and gentle man like Geoffrey.
I avoided Carleton. This seemed to amuse him. When we were together in the company of others, I would find his eyes on me, mocking. What arrogance, I thought. He really believes I shall find him irresistible.
There was a great deal of anxiety over the Dutch war and we were constantly hearing disturbing news. Everyone was talking about the chain shot which the Dutch had invented and which was doing such harm to our ships, and orders were given that cattle must be driven off Romney Marsh in case the Dutch should come in and steal them. In July we won a victory over them, but there were great losses on both sides.
However it was decided in August that there should be a thanksgiving service and Lord Eversleigh thought we should go to London to take part in it.
Geoffrey came down to Eversleigh to tell us about the service and what was going on in London. The weather had been much cooler and there was great relief that there had been no return of the plague that summer. There was a serenity about Geoffrey as though he had come to some conclusion. I guessed what it was, and I was right, because during that visit he asked me to marry him.
It seemed strange that I should have had two proposals of marriage within a few weeks of each other, but perhaps not so strange. I was sure Carleton had suspected Geoffrey would ask me soon and wanted to get in first. That amused me. At the same time I did not want Geoffrey to ask me … yet. I had been considering marriage with him for some time, and there had been occasions when I had almost convinced myself that it would have been perhaps the best thing. Now I was very uncertain.
He had brought new kites for the boys, and they were very eager to try them so we took them out-of-doors and I watched Geoffrey with the children and noticed how they shouted to him and treated him as though he were an elder brother—young enough to play with them and yet older to have special knowledge and give them help when needed.
I sat in the sunshine on the stone bench near the willow with flowering shrubs on either side. It was a delightful afternoon, warm and sunny. I felt a certain contentment sitting there watching my son and marvelling at his beauty and giving grateful thanks for his good health, listening contentedly to the buzzing of the bees as they hovered about the lavender. There would be good honey this year, I thought.
Geoffrey came and sat down beside me.
I said: “It was good of you to bring them kites.”
“I know how they like them. Look. Edwin’s is flying higher than Leigh’s.”
“Leigh won’t like that.”
“No, he’s a boy who will have to be curbed more than Edwin, I think.”
“Yes, he has a more arrogant nature. Edwin reminds me so much of his father.”
“He was gentle was he … good-natured?”
“He hated trouble. He wanted everybody to be happy. Sometimes I think he would have done anything rather than cause trouble.”
Geoffrey nodded slowly. “Do you still think of him?”
“All the time …” I said.
“It is some years now.”
“Before Edwin was born. In fact I didn’t know I was to have a child when I heard that Edwin was dead.”
“You can’t mourn forever, Arabella.”
“Do you think one ever gets over such a loss?”
“I think one should try to.”
I sighed. “Edwin often asks about his father.”
“I know. He has told me about him. Edwin thinks he was one of the saints.”
I smiled. “He would be pleased if he knew. I want my son to live up to him. I tell him he must never do anything of which his father would be ashamed. He must try to be like him.”
Geoffrey nodded. “But he needs a father here on earth, Arabella. All children do.”
I was silent, and he went on: “I have thought a great deal about this. I have almost spoken to you so many times. Would you marry me, Arabella?”
Again I was silent. I didn’t want to say no, I could never marry anyone, because I wasn’t sure, and he was right when he said one should not mourn forever. Edwin would have been the last person to wish that. For a moment I gave myself up to the pleasure of seeing myself announcing my intention to marry Geoffrey and watching the effect on Carleton. I should enjoy that. But that was not a good enough reason for marrying.
Geoffrey had seen the slow smile on my lips and misconstrued it.
“Oh, Arabella, we’ll be happy. I know we shall.”
I drew away from him. I said: “I’m sorry, Geoffrey, but I’m not sure. I sometimes think I shall never marry. I will confess I have thought of it, and when I have seen how much you love Edwin and he, you, I have felt it would be good for us all. But I am not sure. I still think of my husband and as yet I cannot say.”
“I understand,” he said. “I have spoken too soon. But I want you to think about it. I am a lonely man and I think sometimes you would be happier with someone who was close to you as only a husband can be. I would be a father to the boy. I love him already. I take a great interest in him.”
I said: “He would be expected to live here. You know that he is the heir to all this.”
“I would come here for a great deal of the time and we could go now and then to my own estates. I have my bailiffs there who look after things while I am away much as it is managed here. Edwin would be my concern.”
I followed the flight of the kites and on the surface of Edwin’s I seemed to see the house take shape. Eversleigh Court and all it entailed which would one day be Edwin’s. In my imagination I saw Edwin lifted off the ground, caught up with his kite. I saw his terrified face, heard his screams and I realized that I was remembering a dream I had had long ago.
“Are you all right?” asked Geoffrey.
“Oh, yes … quite all right, thank you. You’ll think me ungrateful but I do appreciate what you are offering me. It is just that I am unsure …”
He put a hand over mine.
“I understand,” he said. “You must realize this, Arabella. I should always understand.”
I believed he would and I wished that I could have said yes.
A horrible suspicion had come to me that I might have done so but for that scene not so long ago with Carleton in this very garden.
Lord Eversleigh thought that we should all go to London for the thanksgiving service. Uncle Toby was delighted. He was always eager to get to London and he spent a great deal of time there. Lord Eversleigh said that the town house was more often occupied since Toby had been home than it ever was before. My mother-in-law told me that she was a little disturbed about Toby. He was inclined to drink too much and to gamble. He greatly enjoyed the conversation in the coffeehouses and he was devoted to the theatre. He had a fondness for the pretty actresses and was very interested in Moll Davis, who was said to be favoured by the King.
“That was always Toby’s trouble,” said Matilda. “Your father tells me that in his youth he gave his parents much anxiety and they were not altogether displeased when he decided to go to seek his fortune in Virginia. I doubt he saw much of playhouses and pretty women actresses there.”
But we were all indulgent with Toby. Whatever his excesses he could always charm us.
So he, at least, was anxious to go up for the thanksgiving service.
There was a letter from Far Flamstead. My mother hoped that we should be going and perhaps would spend a night there on the way, for naturally they would be present. It would make the family very happy for us all to be together again.
So it was arranged that we went.
I always enjoyed being with my family, although the children no longer gave way to wild expressions of joy to see me. Even Fenn no longer leaped round me and gave those great war whoops of pleasure. He was twelve years old now and beyond such childish matters. As for Dick, he was all but sixteen, fast growing in dignity, and Angie at thirteen was quite a young lady.
My father embraced me warmly and I saw the anxious look in his eyes which was reflected in my mother’s. They both wanted to see me married and they would have approved of Geoffrey, I was sure. I toyed with the idea of confiding in her that I had had two proposals of marriage but decided against that. She would want to know how I felt about my two suitors and I couldn’t bear any probing at that time, even from her.
It was a merry party. Carleton was already in London, staying at the Eversleigh house in fashionable Clement’s Lane where we would join him. My parents would go to my father’s house, the gardens of which ran down to the river and which had been in his family’s possession since the days of Henry VIII.
In London we should be joined by Lucas and his new wife. I never saw my mother in such good spirits as she was when she could gather her family together.
But I was never completely happy when my son was not with me, though Charlotte kept assuring me that in the care of Sally Nullens the boys were as safe as if we were there, and I had to accept this.
In due course we went to the service and there I had the pleasure of being presented to the King and Queen. I was fully aware of his charm, as indeed who could help being, and I liked his gentle Queen with the great, brooding, dark eyes. Poor woman, I was sorry for her if all the tales I heard of his infidelities were true, and I was inclined to believe that they were.
When we came out from the service Carleton was beside me and he pointed out Barbara Villiers, Lady Castlemaine—a woman I instinctively disliked.
Carleton laughed at me. “She is reckoned to be irresistible.”
“If I were a man I should find it the easiest thing in the world to resist her.”
“Ah, but then you are not a man and you are noted for your powers of resistance. Look how you resist me.”
I left him and joined my father.
We all returned to Clement’s Lane, and later that day my family left for their own residence. That night at supper Uncle Toby suggested that we all go to the play on the following day.
It was declared a good idea and I was excited at the possibility of seeing Harriet again, although I had heard no mention of her name. I think Carleton knew this, for he was watching me closely.
So to the King’s House we went, and I was thrilled to be once more in the playhouse and sit in the box and watch the life that went on below me. The gallants, the orange girls, the ladies in their masks and patches, and the exquisite gowns. There was much more order than there had been on the previous occasion, and when I commented on this, Carleton told me that playgoers had at last realized that they had come to the playhouse to see and hear a play and were becoming more and more interested in what was going on on the stage than the trouble they could stir up among the audience.
So it seemed, for there was a hushed silence when the play began and no need this time for one of the players to step forward and ask for silence.
The play was called The English Monsieur and it had been written by the Hon. James Howard, one of the Earl of Berkshire’s sons. His brothers also wrote for the stage, Carleton had told me as we rode to the theatre, and so did his brother-in-law John Dryden.
Uncle Toby said he had seen Dryden’s The Rival Ladies and found it very good. “And the fellow worked with Robert Howard on The Indian Queen. That was a fine play about Montezuma and most splendidly was it put on the stage. But give me a comedy. I look forward to tonight. There is one little actress who gives me great pleasure to watch.”
“I am sure Arabella will enjoy her acting too,” said Carleton smiling, and I wondered what innuendo there was behind that remark. For it was a fact that I always suspected that there was some hidden intent behind everything he did or said.
“There will be a crowd at the playhouse tonight,” said Lord Eversleigh. “After having been closed for so long, people cannot wait to get back to them.”
“It was very necessary for them to be closed during the time of the plague,” I pointed out.
“Indeed, yes, but what a loss. So much to make up for.” The play began. I waited for Harriet to appear, but it was not Harriet who took the part of Lady Wealthy, the chief character in the play, but a small woman, very pretty with great vitality and a gamine charm. She took the part of a rich widow who was courted by fortune-hunters and played with the idea of marrying, as they said, “well” and in the end cast aside such nonsense and married her true love.
The plot was slight, the dialogue scarcely sparkling, but the amazing personality of this delightful actress carried it along, and the audience was with her every moment she was on the stage.
I should always remember her dainty looks, her jaunty charm, her constant laugh and the way her eyes almost disappeared when she gave way to it. She was dark and sparkling and the entire audience loved her.
As we rode back to the house Carleton said: “What did you think of Nelly?”
“I thought she was enchanting:”
“So it seems to others—including His Majesty.”
“I thought he was enamoured of an actress called Moll Davis.”
“Alas, poor Moll, she is by way of being superseded by Nelly.”
“I doubt not Nelly’s reign will be as brief,” I said. “He is faithful to the Castlemaine, so perhaps he is capable of fidelity to others.”
“I would not agree with your definition of fidelity.”
“What a glorious day that would be when we could agree about something.”
We went on to discuss the play and it was a most stimulating hour.
The days that followed had a quality of unreality about them, and even now I cannot really believe in them. A very strong east wind had sprung up. I heard it during the night, blowing through the narrow streets, and I sat up in bed listening to it and wondering how strong it would be in the open country round Eversleigh, where it was always so much more fierce than in London, for coming in from the east it had spent a little of its energy before it reached the capital.
Just before dawn I was aware of an unusual light in the sky, and going to my window I saw that it was a glow from what must be a large fire.
By the time I arose the glow had deepened. I remarked to the maid that it must be a very big fire indeed. She replied that one of the tradesmen had just come in and said that it started in a baker’s shop in Pudding Lane. The house was in flames in no time and the strong east wind had spread the fire to the neighbouring buildings.
During that day there was no talk of anything but the fire which was rapidly spreading and had already consumed a number of buildings, and at night our rooms were as light as day from the glow of the flames. A pall of smoke hung over the city and it was getting worse.
“If it continues like this,” said my father-in-law, “there will be nothing of London left.”
Carleton suggested that Charlotte and I return to Eversleigh, and my mother wanted us to go to Far Flamstead which was a safe distance from the city.
I said firmly that I should not go until the danger was over. There was a great deal for us to do on the spot, for the refugees from the fires were put into certain empty houses and Charlotte and I had joined the band of helpers who were arranging to look after them.
People were bewildered. Many of them were bent on running away, and the river was full of craft containing families with what possessions they had salvaged. Some were escaping to the country, others were going to the houses which had been set up to receive them, and others to camp in the fields about Islington and Highgate.
Three days had passed while the fire was still blazing. It was useless to try to put it out by ordinary means. The whole of the Thames would not douse this fire, it was said.
Alarm was spreading. We kept getting scraps of news. We heard that the roof of St. Paul’s Cathedral was ablaze and the glow in the sky could be seen for ten miles around the city. Melting lead was running into the streets and the stones of St. Paul’s were flying like grenades through the streets, the cobbles of which were too hot for people to walk on. The great bells of the churches were melting. The wind caught the ashes and spread them for miles around. I heard that some of these were blown as far as Eton.
The Church of St. Faith was collapsing. Its roof was gone and its walls had fallen in. In Paternoster Row, the home of the booksellers, the contents of the shops had been burning for several days.
Something must be done.
The King hastened to London with his brother and members of the nobility to find a means of stopping the fire. Carleton was with him; so were my father, Geoffrey, Lord Eversleigh and Uncle Toby. They believed they had a solution. It was desperate, but they must try it, for two-thirds of the city was already in ruins, and from the Tower along the Thames to the Temple Church and along the city wall to Holborn Bridge, there was scarcely a building standing, and if it was it must be an empty shell.
The drastic plan was to blow up those buildings towards which the fire was racing so that, when it reached them, there would be only an empty space and the flames would have nothing to consume and therefore would necessarily become less fierce and perhaps be able to be brought under control.
We awaited the outcome with trepidation. All day long we heard the explosions. The men came home, their garments and even their faces blackened with their exertions. But there was an air of triumph about them. They had halted the great fire of London, and now, they prophesied, it would only be a matter of time before they had put it out.
The nightmare was over, but the damage was enormous. Four hundred streets had been completely destroyed with about thirteen thousand houses. An area of four hundred and thirty-six acres had been devastated. We had suffered four days of calamity and during that time eighty-eight churches had been destroyed, including St. Paul’s Cathedral. The City gates and Guildhall, the Exchange and the Customs House had also gone, and the value of the lost property was over seven million pounds. There was only one matter for rejoicing. In spite of this colossal destruction, only six people had lost their lives.
The fire was discussed interminably around dinner tables.
“The King,” said Carleton, “surprised his people … though I guessed he would behave as he did. People are inclined to think that because he has a keen wit and likes to use it, because he has an appreciation of beauty and a love of pleasure, he is incapable of being serious. Now they realize their mistake. None worked as hard as he did.”
“It was an inspiration to us all,” agreed Geoffrey, “to see him, sleeves rolled up, his face blackened by smoke, giving orders as to where the gunpowder should be laid.”
“And he was merry with it,” said my father-in-law.
“A man,” put in Uncle Toby, “who would meet any disaster with a merry quip which puts heart into us all.” He raised his goblet. “A health unto His Majesty.”
And we all drank it and someone started the ballad which was being sung throughout the country:
“Here’s a health unto his Majesty
With a fal, la, la, la, la, la, la
Confusion to his enemies
With a fal, la, la, la, la, la, la
And who will not drink his health
I wish him neither wit nor wealth
Nor yet a rope to hang himself
With a fal, la, la, la, la, la, la.”
And we all joined in, thanking God that, in spite of the plague and the fire which He had seen fit to bring upon us, there was not one of us who would have gone back to the Puritan way of life. All of us were with the King in spite of his growing reputation for profligacy.
There was rejoicing in the streets. The fire was over, and if many had lost the homes they had known for years, there were now promises to rebuild London, a different city, with wider streets where the sun and air could reach the lower rooms of houses, proper gutters where the drainage could run away and not harbour rats and give out noisome smells.
Carleton said: “This fire could well be a blessing in disguise. Christopher Wren is going to build a fine cathedral in place of old St. Paul’s. He has designs for other buildings. The King is excited by them. He showed me some of them today.”
And in spite of the terrible problems created first by the plague and then by the fire which had followed so closely, there was optimism in the air. Then this was tinged with suspicions and doubts.
Someone had caused the fire. Who? That was the question everyone was asking.
It was not long before a scapegoat was found.
There was whispering in the streets that it was the Papists. Of course it was. Had they not destroyed eighty-eight churches—the great cathedral among them? They wanted to destroy the Protestants just as they had on St. Bartholomew’s Eve in France nearly a hundred years ago. The method was different. That was all.
People were marching through the streets, demanding the arrest and execution of Papists.
“The King will not allow that,” was the comment in our house. “He’s all for tolerance.”
“And some say,” said Uncle Toby, “that he flirts with the Catholic faith.”
“Flirting with the ladies is more to his choice, I’d say,” said Carleton quickly. “And if I were you, Uncle Toby, I would not repeat such comments. They might be ill construed.”
The King did set up an enquiry for the Privy Council and House of Commons to undertake, and it was a relief to have it proved that there was no foundation in the accusations.
Those days of terror had their effect on us, at least that was what I tell myself, but perhaps I am trying to make some excuse for what happened almost immediately afterwards.
We had not yet returned to Eversleigh but planned to do so within a few days. My parents had gone to Far Flamstead and Geoffrey to his estate. Lord and Lady Eversleigh, with Uncle Toby and Charlotte, had gone in the carriage to visit some old friends of theirs on the other side of Islington. Carleton had ridden over. As I had never met their friends and wished to make my preparations for our departure, I said that I would stay in the house.
It proved to be a fatal decision. I often thought how such a small incident, seemingly insignificant at the time, can affect the course of our lives.
No sooner had they set out than it started to rain. Within an hour it was torrential. The wind had come up again and I wondered how they were faring.
I busied myself with getting my things together and laying out the little gifts I had bought for the boys. I had drums and a hobbyhorse apiece and battledores and shuttlecocks, and I had bought them new jackets and complete riding outfits apiece.
I gloated over these things, packed them and unpacked them while I anticipated the pleasure they would give.
The afternoon grew darker. The rain was still falling, the wind still howling. It was going to be a rough night.
At six o’clock I ordered that the candles be lighted, for it was very dark, and Matilda had said they would be back not later than six. She had no fancy for being out when the light was failing. The roads were thick with thieves and no one was safe. These men carried blunderbusses and did not hesitate to use them if their victims did not surrender their possessions with speed.
So I was sure Matilda would insist on their returning early, as it was such a dark day. In fact I had expected them to be in before this.
The minutes ticked away. It was seven o’clock. Something must be wrong. I was now beginning to be anxious.
It was just after seven when I heard someone come in. I hurried down the stairs and, to my surprise, there was Carleton. He was soaked to the skin, the water dripped from his clothes and was even running from his hat down his face.
“What a plight!” he cried seeing me. Then he laughed. “I rode back because I thought you’d be anxious. The carriage was stuck in the mud close to the Crispins’ place. They are all staying the night there. It would be folly to come back on a night like this.”
“Oh … they are all right then?”
“Perfectly all right. No doubt feasting on roast beef and warming themselves with malmsey wine at this moment, and I should not at all object to following their example. Have you supped?”
“Not yet … I was waiting …”
“We’ll sup together.”
“First you must get some dry clothes. I will have hot water sent to your room immediately. Get those things off without delay. Take a bath and get into dry things …”
“I am delighted to obey you.”
“Then pray do not stand there. Get to your room and I will have the water sent up at once.”
I felt excited. I pretended not to know why. I had not realized how anxious I had been. It was wonderful to know that they were all well, and I was glad that I was not going to be alone for the evening. Even Carleton, I told myself, was better than no one.
I went to the kitchen. “Master Carleton is wet through,” I told them. “He has ridden through this terrible weather from beyond Islington. He needs hot water … plenty of it. And have some soup made hot. We will sup as soon as he is ready.”
I went to my room. It was rather silly, I told myself, to be so elated, but I was looking forward to one of those verbal battles which were always inevitable when we were together.
I looked at myself in my mirror. It was a pity I was wearing this dark blue gown. The material was velvet and quite pleasant but it was not my most becoming gown. My eyes went to the cherry red silk.
What was I thinking of? If I changed I could be sure he would notice and he would imagine it had been done for him.
No, I must stay in my blue gown.
He was quicker than I had believed possible. He came into the winter parlour, which was used when there were only a few to eat together and where I had ordered that a fire be lighted, and I thought the room with the small tapestry on one wall and candles flickering in their sockets while the log fire threw a glow over the room was very attractive. The table had been laid for two and the dish of soup was already on the table, hot, steaming and smelling delicious.
He came in, fresh from his bath, ruffles at his neck and the sleeves of his shirt. He wore no jacket but a brocade vest. I thought: I suppose he looks handsome if one cares for that kind of saturnine looks.
“What a pleasure!” he cried. “Supper a deux. I could not have wished for anything more delightful. I enjoyed your solicitude … hustling me into my bath, making me take off my wet garments, making sure that I put on clean dry ones.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I merely suggested what would seem good sense to anyone. There is nothing to be grateful for in that.”
“You really did seem concerned. This soup tastes good.”
“Hunger seasons all dishes, they say.”
“Now that is a very profound statement.” He lifted one eyebrow and I was reminded poignantly of Edwin. “One which,” he went on, “I would expect from you. This wine is good. I have always had a fondness for malmsey. Come, you must drink with me.”
He poured more into my goblet.
“To the King,” he said. “May he reign many years.”
I could not refuse a loyal toast so I drank a little wine.
“Let me give you more soup.”
“I have had enough, thank you.”
“Then you will allow me to partake. Oh, this is pleasant. To sit here opposite you, dear Arabella. It is something I have always dreamed of doing.”
“We have sat opposite each other at table many times, I am sure.”
“You miss the point … deliberately, I think. But never alone. That was my meaning.”
“Tell me, were they much put out?”
“At first. It will be easy to get the carriage moving when the rain subsides. They were fortunate to be so near their destination. I rode on and had a carriage brought to them and we took them there safely. They will now be sitting round a table like this, talking of their adventures, wondering what will happen next. First the fire of London, and then my Lord Eversleigh and his family get stuck in a coach!”
“It was an ordeal for them.”
“Amusing, really. I said I shall ride back in good time so that I can let Arabella know what happened. You see, I was thinking of you. What good roast beef this is. Excellent!”
Silently the servants moved in and out carrying the food. He ate very heartily and drank equally so, I thought.
When he had eaten of the roast beef and taken some capon besides and then apples and nuts, he said to the servants: “Leave us now. You can clear this away in the morning. Mistress Eversleigh and I have much to discuss.”
I could not protest before them, but as soon as they had gone, I said: “I cannot imagine what we have to discuss which is so very private.”
“You know there is our Great Matter.”
“What is this Great Matter?”
“Our future. Our marriage. When is it going to be, Arabella?”
“Never, I should say.”
“That is cruel. And untrue. I’ll wager you …”
“I rarely wager and never would on such a matter.”
“Wise lady. You would be sure to lose. I believe you are one of those clever one who only wagers when she is certain of winning.”
“It’s a good principle.”
“Ah, if only more of us had the wit to carry it out. Now, Arabella, we decided when last we talked that it would be an excellent solution for us to marry. Edwin would have a father, which he sorely needs, and you a husband for whom your need is as great.”
“I happen to think differently. If Edwin is in such sore need as you imply, there might be another alternative.”
“If you married Geoffrey you would be regretting it in a week.”
“Why should you come to that conclusion?”
“Because I know him and I know you. You want someone who is a man.”
“So Geoffrey is not?”
“He is a good sort. I have nothing against him.”
“I can see you are determined to be fair-minded.”
He rose suddenly and was round the table. He had put his arms about me and began kissing my lips and my throat.
“Please go away. If the servants come in …”
“They won’t. They daren’t disobey me. That’s what I mean about being a man.”
“Well, subduer of servants, I am not one of them, remember.”
“I did not forget that for one moment. If you were one of them, I should not have put up with your nonsense so long.”
“You would have commanded me to submit to you, I daresay. And you being such a man and I in a humble capacity, I would not have dared refuse.”
“You quiver a little, Arabella. When I hold you like this, I can feel you trembling in my arms.”
“With rage.”
“You would be a passionate woman if you would be yourself.”
“Who am I … if not myself? I am myself and I know this: I want you to go to your room and stay there and I shall go to mine.”
“What a cruel waste of time! Listen, Arabella, I want you. I love you. I am going to marry you and show you it is the best thing in the world for us both.”
“I think I will say good night and go to my room.”
I rose and went to the door, but he was there before me, barring my way. I shrugged my shoulders, trying hard to quell a rising excitement. He is capable of anything, I thought with a shudder, which if I were honest I must say was not entirely unpleasant.
“I insist on talking to you. I rarely have such an opportunity.”
“Really, Carleton, I do assure you there is nothing more to be said. Now let me pass.”
Slowly he shook his head. “I insist that you listen to me.”
With a weary shrug I went to the table and sat down.
“Well?”
“You are not as indifferent to me as you pretend. When I hold you I sense that. You are fighting your impulses … all the time you are doing that. You are living a pretence. Pretending you have finished with love … pretending that you don’t want me … pretending to think all the time of your dead husband …”
“That is not pretence,” I said.
“Give me a chance to prove it.”
“You prove to me what I think! I know without proof from you.”
“You are wasting your life.”
“That is surely for me to decide.”
“If only you were concerned, perhaps. But there is someone else.”
“You?” I said with a laugh.
“Yes … me.”
“It is you who should face up to the truth. You would like to marry me. Yes, I can see that. It would be very convenient. You want Eversleigh. You believed you would have it one day. Then Edwin was born and he stood in your way. He died, but he had a son and now he stands between you and what you hoped for. And there is one other who comes before you, Uncle Toby. Even if my Edwin did not exist, Toby would inherit before you did. However, you want to be in command. If I married someone else he would be Edwin’s stepfather. He would guide Edwin. He would teach him what he has to learn. That does not appeal to you. You might lose your hold on Eversleigh. Therefore, being most conveniently free to marry, you would marry me. Now is that not the whole of it?”
“Not the whole truth,” he said.
“So you admit to part of it.”
“Unlike you, I face facts.”
“And I do not?”
“Certainly, you do not. You want to marry me, and you pretend you don’t. Perhaps you don’t even realize that you want to. You are caught up in such a web of deceit.”
“You talk nonsense. What you don’t know is that I was once married to the only man I could love. He was noble, honourable … He died for the cause he believed in. Do you think anyone could ever replace him in my heart?”
Carleton burst out laughing. His eyes suddenly blazed with anger. “Are you telling me that you have never guessed the truth?”
“The truth? What truth?”
“About your saintly husband.”
“I hate to hear you mention his name. You are unworthy …”
“I know … to unlatch his shoes, I believe. Edwin was no worse than the rest of us, perhaps … but no better.”
“Stop it, I say, stop it.”
He took me by the shoulders and shook me.
“It’s time you knew the truth. It’s time you stopped living in a dream. Edwin married you for the same reason that you accuse me of wanting to marry you. His parents wanted it … and so did your parents. He would have preferred … Surely you know?”
I felt myself go limp with rage and horror. I could not believe I was hearing correctly.
“I am tired of remaining silent,” went on Carleton, speaking tensely and rapidly. “I’m tired of standing by and joining in the pretence. Edwin had great charm, didn’t he? Everyone liked him. He tried to be everything to everyone … just the very man each one wanted him to be. He was always liked and he was very good at it. You wanted the young romantic lover, and it seems he played the part to perfection. He had you believing him.”
“What do you mean? Whom … would he have preferred?”
“That great friend of yours, of course. Harriet Main. Were you completely blind? She hoped he would marry her, but that would be asking too much of him. His parents would have objected. Edwin never upset anyone if he could help it. Besides, he knew at once that you were the suitable partner. That didn’t stop those two though. I can assure you of that.”
“Harriet … and Edwin?”
“Wasn’t it clear? Where do you think he was on those nights when you were alone in the big bed, eh? Out on his secret mission? Oh, it was secret all right. He was with her. Sleeping with her. Forgetting his dear, little, trusting wife. Why do you think she brought you to England? Because she wanted to be with him. That’s why. She was out collecting her plants! He was on his secret mission! How odd that both should take them to the old arbour. They spent a good deal of time there together. Too much. Do you know why he was shot? I would take you to the man who shot him, but he is dead now. It was Old Jethro, the hermit-Puritan. He shot his dog for coupling with a bitch, and what he did to a dog he was clearly ready to do to a man and woman … if these things were done outside the lawful marriage bed. In an arbour, for instance.”
“I … don’t believe it.”
“You know it’s true. Come, Arabella, you are a sensible young woman. You know the way of the world.”
“I don’t believe it of Edwin.”
“Shall I have to prove it to you?”
“You can’t. The man who killed him is dead, you say … a likely story. When did he so conveniently die?”
“Soon after he killed Edwin. He told me himself. He had watched them when they met. He had put himself into a place where he could see. Then he brought the gun and he shot them … in the act.”
I covered my face with my hands, trying in vain to shut out the vivid pictures which forced themselves into my mind.
I could only repeat: “I don’t believe it. I will never believe it.”
“I can prove it to you.”
“If it’s true, why have you kept quiet so long?”
“Out of my regard for you. I thought you might come to realize it gradually. But when you keep flinging him at me … the sainted husband … it was more than I could bear. I am not a saint. I have been involved, doubtless, in more amorous adventuring than Edwin ever was … but I could never be as deceitful as he was. I could never have lied to you as blatantly, nor would I have brought a mistress and a wife on such an errand … unless of course they knew the circumstances and agreed to come.”
“Harriet … and Edwin,” I murmured. “It just is not true.”
“I am going to show you something,” he said.
“What?” I demanded.
“I found it on his body. Harriet came in in a state of distraction. She was safe, though I think the intention was to kill them both and leave them there … exposed … a lesson to sinners. That would have been typical of Jethro. But she escaped and came to me. She told me what had happened and I had him brought into the house. It seemed best then to let you think he had been killed because of his work and to hurry you and Harriet Main out of the country.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“No, you trusted Edwin. You trust the wrong people, as I am showing you.”
“It is merely your word … and I don’t trust you.”
“Then I will prove it to you. Wait there a moment.”
He had gone but I could not wait. I followed him up the stairs to his room. I stood in the doorway watching him as he lighted the candles and opened a drawer.
He brought out a piece of paper and, coming towards me, put an arm about me and drew me gently into the room.
The paper was bloodstained, and I recognized Harriet’s writing.
“I kept it,” he said. “I suppose I knew that one day I might have to show it to you. Sit down.”
I let him put me into a chair and he held me close while I read.
I do not want to record those words. They were too intimate, too revealing, and they had been written by Harriet. I knew her writing too well to doubt it. There could be no doubt of their pleasure in each other. There could be no doubt of their intimacy … an intimacy such as I had never dreamed of. She reproached him a little for marrying me. Poor Arabella! That was how she wrote of me, how they must have spoken of me. It was clear that they had been lovers from the beginning, before he had asked me to marry him, that when he had married me, he had gone on wanting her.
Of course. Of course. It was so easy to understand now. She was sublimely beautiful. No one could compare with her. It was understandable. Charles Condey had been a blind. She had never had any feeling for him. My mother-in-law had seen more than I had. That was why she had insisted that I play Juliet. But how innocent she was … as innocent as I. As though that could have made any difference.
So they had met when they could. They had deceived me, told me lies. “Alas, my love, I must go out tonight … this secret mission.” And he was going to Harriet. Harriet! I could see her laughing with him. “You managed to get away from her, then? Poor Arabella! Always so easy to deceive.” It was true … right from the beginning. I had believed she had hurt her ankle and was staying for that reason. I had believed she wanted to help me stay with Edwin and she had wanted him herself. I had believed …
Leigh, I thought. It was so. It must be so. Leigh was Edwin’s son.
My lips formed the boy’s name. “Leigh …” I said.
“Of course. There is a likeness in the boy. It’ll be more noticeable when he gets older.”
“Why …?” I began.
He knelt down by my chair and, taking my hand, kissed it. I let it lie in his.
“Because you had to know. It’s always best to know. I told you in a fit of passion. Perhaps it was wrong. But it’s best to know, Arabella.”
I was silent. He went on: “When you saw her again on the stage, I was afraid you were going to ask her to come here. You must never do that, Arabella. You must never trust that woman again.”
“I thought she was …”
“I know you thought she was your friend. She could never be a friend to anyone but herself. Forget her now. You know the truth. It’s over, Arabella. It was over years ago. Seven years have passed. Let them both pass out of your life as well.”
I said nothing. I sat there in a daze. I kept thinking of scenes from the past. They were going round and round in my head. Their faces gazed at me, laughed at me, sneered at me. I thought I could bear no more.
I wanted to run away and yet I wanted to stay. I could not bear to be alone now.
Carleton said: “It has been a shock. Here. Give me the letter. I am going to destroy it. It is better that it is lost forever.”
“No,” I said, “don’t.”
“What would you do with it?” he asked. “Read it again and again? Torture yourself with it?” He held it in the flame of the candle. I watched the edge of the paper scorch and shrivel before it burst into flame. “There, it is gone. Forget now that it was ever written.” Carleton dropped it in the grate, and I watched it until there was nothing left but the charred remains.
He went to a cupboard and, taking out a bottle, poured liquid into a glass and held it to my lips.
“It will soothe you,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”
He had his arms about me and I drank. The draught was like fire in my throat.
He was murmuring soothingly: “Now you are going to feel better. You are going to see that it happened a long time ago. It is over now. You have your beautiful son … and if it had never happened you would not have had him, would you? It is your legitimate Edwin who is heir to Eversleigh, not the bastard Leigh … not her child. And does she care? No, she went off and let you bring up the boy. Doesn’t that tell you the kind of woman she is?”
I felt dazed, as though I were floating in midair. He picked me up and carried me as though I were a baby. He was sitting in the chair holding me, rocking me tenderly, and I felt comforted.
So we sat thus and I heard him telling me that he loved me. That there had never been anyone he wanted as he wanted me, that everything was going to be wonderful for us both. I had not lost anything. Instead I had found that which would compensate me for everything I now thought I had lost.
I felt him gently unbuttoning my dress. I felt his hands on my body. He lifted me and, kissing me with the utmost tenderness, lay me on his bed.
Then he was with me and I felt dazed and yet somehow happy. It was as though I was escaping from bonds which had been restraining me for a long time. I heard him laugh in the darkness. His voice came from a long way off. And he kept calling me “His love, his Arabella.”