Lament for a Lost Lover

by Philippa Carr

  “That was before I came. She never forgave me, but if I had not been there, there would have been someone else.”

  “What I don’t understand is that you seem to take it all so lightly.”

  “That, dear Arabella, is the way to life. Enjoy it while you can, and when that which you enjoyed passes from you, look for something else to take its place.”

  “It must have been very dull for you at the château after these adventures. We had no lovers to offer you.”

  “You had a certain comfort. I was tired of the road. I knew they were going to fail in Paris. I had had enough of them all … even Jabot. I think he was cooling off and I like to be the one who cools off first. You interested me greatly. Do you know, as soon as I saw you I knew we should be friends. I enjoyed my little charade … and the way you took it was just what I would have expected of you. Now you have made me respectable for your mother and that has strengthened the bonds between us. You know that, Arabella.”

  “I wish …” I began.

  “That I were the sort of young woman you would meet in your normal social round if you were in England? No, you don’t. You know I am different. That’s why you like me. I could never conform to a pattern. And do you know, Arabella, I have a feeling that you couldn’t either.”

  “I don’t know. I feel I don’t know very much about myself.”

  “Never mind. You’re learning.” She yawned. “And do you know, I fancy there may be some surprises in store for you. Now I will go to my room. Good night, Arabella.”

  After she had left me I sat thinking of her for a long time.

  A few days later a messenger rode over with a letter which was addressed to me.

  I sent him to Marianne and Jeanne to be given food and drink and a room to rest in while I read my letter. It was addressed to Mistress Arabella Tolworthy, and came from Villers Tourron.

  Dear Mistress Tolworthy,

  I have had the great pleasure of meeting your parents in Cologne and have heard much about you and your family. We have recently arrived at Villers Tourron and, as like yourselves, are in exile awaiting the summons to return, I think it would give us all great pleasure if we met. We have a large house here and although not like home, we can entertain our friends. Your parents have given their permission for you and your brother to visit us and I and my family are hoping that you will do so. My son and daughter are with me at the moment. Edwin, my son, will shortly be joining the King, for as you know there is much activity in that quarter just now and hopes are high. If you would care to accept this invitation, do please give a message to our man. It is a two days’ journey by road and there is a comfortable inn on the way where you could spend the night. There is no reason why we should delay and I suggest that you should come in two weeks’ time. Do please say yes. Having met your parents and heard so much about you, we are all eager to meet you and your brother.

  Matilda Eversleigh.

  I was delighted. It would be interesting. I went to find Lucas to tell him about it.

  He was in the schoolroom with Harriet. I was glad the children were not there. They would hate our going away, but naturally we could not expect the Eversleighs to invite them.

  “Lucas,” I cried, “here’s an invitation from the Eversleighs.”

  “The people our mother mentioned. Let me see.”

  He read the letter, Harriet looking over his shoulder as he did so.

  “You want to go?” she asked.

  “I think we must. Our parents want us to.”

  “It should be interesting,” said Lucas. “After all, we stay here all the time. It used to be so dull, though we never noticed it much. Only when …”

  Harriet gave him a dazzling smile.

  “We shouldn’t be away long, I suppose,” finished Lucas.

  “Two weeks perhaps,” I said.

  “What of the children?” asked Harriet.

  “In her letter our mother said they would be all right with the servants. And so they should be.”

  “They’ll hate your going,” said Harriet.

  “For a few days and then they’ll be used to it. And think of the excitement for them when we come back.”

  “I shall miss you,” said Harriet wistfully.

  I said I would go to my room and write the acceptance of the invitation; and I left Lucas and Harriet together.

  The messenger went off with my letter, and as soon as he had gone I began going through my wardrobe. What one wore was not important at Congrève but visiting would be different.

  The door opened and Harriet came in.

  She looked at the brown dress which lay on my bed. “You can’t take that,” she said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  She picked it up firmly and hung it up in the cupboard.

  “You have very little to go visiting in, Arabella,” she said. “I think we should attempt some refurbishing.”

  “I daresay they live much the same as we do. They’re in exile too.”

  “They contemplate entertaining so they will surely make some show. Really we shall have to look into our wardrobes. I could lend you something if I wasn’t …”

  She hesitated and I looked at her sharply.

  “Coming with you,” she added slyly.

  “Coming with us. But …”

  “It will be more fun,” she said. “Just think how we will talk of it afterwards. You’ll need me there, Arabella.”

  “But the invitation was for me and my brother.”

  “How could it be otherwise when they didn’t know I was here?”

  I looked at her steadily. Her eyes were dancing with mockery.

  “How can you come, Harriet, when you have not been invited?”

  “It’s simple. If I had been your sister, they would not have hesitated to ask me.”

  “But you are not my sister.”

  “But I am your friend.”

  “You couldn’t just arrive with us. How could I explain your being there?”

  “You will explain beforehand. It is so easy. ‘Dear Lady Eversleigh, I have a friend who has been staying with me for some time, and I could not really leave her at the château while we are away. I answered your invitation in a rush of pleasure because I was so delighted to have it. But now I see that I cannot really leave this friend. It would be most impolite and I know you will understand. She is charming, of excellent family, in fact one of ourselves. Now if it would make no difference to you, it might be that you will extend your invitation to her. … If so how delighted we shall all be to come. Do forgive the blunder I have made. It was such a joy to get your invitation that I suppose I answered it without thinking of my responsibilities. …’ There, what about that.”

  “I can’t do it, Harriet. It would be quite wrong.”

  “I think it would be quite right. But of course if you would rather I did not come …”

  “I know it would not be half as much fun without you. But I don’t see …”

  Harriet spent the rest of the afternoon making me see. And the next day Jacques rode over with a note such as she had suggested.

  He came back in a few days with a reply.

  My dear Mistress Tolworthy,

  But of course we shall welcome your friend. She must come and be a member of our party. My son and daughter are very much looking forward to meeting you.

  Matilda Eversleigh.

  When I showed Harriet the reply she laughed with pleasure. “What did I tell you?” she demanded. And I must say I was delighted that she was coming with us.

  Proposal in a Tomb

  JACQUES ACCOMPANIED US. AFTER our arrival he would go back to Congrève, but it had seemed wise to have him with us on the road. We stayed a night at the inn which the Eversleighs had recommended and the following day arrived at Château Tourron.

  It was much more grand than Congrève. There were no goats or chickens in sight, and it had an air of graciousness though a little decayed.

  Jacques led us into the stables where groo
ms hurried up to take our horses, evidently having been warned that we were coming.

  A servant appeared and took us into the hall where Lady Eversleigh was waiting to greet us.

  She was a tall woman, somewhere in her late forties, I guessed, with masses of light fluffy hair and rather babyish blue eyes and fluttering hands. She was clearly pleased to see us and turned first to Harriet.

  “I am so delighted you have come,” she said. “I so much enjoyed meeting your mother …”

  Harriet smiled and, lifting her hand slightly, indicated me.

  “I am Arabella Tolworthy,” I said.

  “But, of course. So like your mother. How could I not have seen? My dear, welcome, and this is your friend … and your brother. We are so pleased to have you. Was the inn comfortable? We have stayed there and found it good … as inns go. Now you must be tired and wish to wash or have some refreshment. We will show you to your rooms first. Have you brought much baggage with you? So difficult travelling. I will have it brought up.”

  Lucas said we had two saddle horses and they were in the stables.

  “One of the men will see to that. Now come with me. I have put you two ladies together. I hope you will not mind. We have not a great deal of room. My son and daughter are so pleased that you have come. They will tell you so themselves. There are some little ones left behind, I believe. Oh, dear, what a pity they are so young!”

  In spite of her somewhat inconsequential manner, I thought she was assessing us rather shrewdly and me in particular.

  The room I was to share with Harriet was large and contained two beds. There was a carpet on the floorboards, and although it was furnished in a slightly more grand manner, it reminded me very much of the Château Congrève. Lucas was settled close by.

  “I hope this will be adequate,” said Lady Eversleigh. “How I should love to be back at Eversleigh Court. How different! How spacious! How adequately we used to entertain our guests there.” She sighed. “But it will come and you must be feeling the same about your homes …”

  “We yearn for the day when we can return,” said Harriet, and although I looked at her sharply, she went on: “But the news is more hopeful. Perhaps it will not be long before we are making our plans to go home.”

  “It must be soon. There is great excitement among the King’s entourage. My husband is there, you know, for it was there that he met your parents. That dreadful Cromwell … dead! And this son. He is not like his father … a fellow of no account, I have heard. That is all to the good, don’t you see?”

  We replied that we saw absolutely, and she said she would leave us to refresh ourselves and then if we would come down to the salon she would have the utmost pleasure in introducing us to her son and daughter.

  When the door shut, Harriet looked at me and laughed.

  “At least,” said Harriet, “our hostess is not at a loss for a word.”

  “She is very friendly.”

  “And seems delighted that we have come. I wonder what the son and daughter are like? I suppose we have been invited to provide them with companions of their own age. Well, it is a little more grand than our own dear château. There is a shabbiness though. I suppose it could hardly be expected that the French nobility should hand over their best properties to the exiles.”

  “You are somewhat critical, considering that but for your coming to Congrève, you might have been living very frugally with your band of players.”

  “I don’t forget it, but that does not prevent my making a reasonable assessment. What shall we wear for our first meeting with the young?”

  I looked down at my riding habit. It was not as immaculate as it had been when we set out, naturally, but it had not occurred to me until that moment. “Really,” I said, “I have no idea.”

  “Then you must put your mind to it. First impressions are important. For you your blue muslin with the lace collar, I think. It is fresh, young and innocent looking, as you are, my dear Arabella.”

  “And for you,” I retorted, “brocade or velvet? Silk or satin?”

  She grimaced. “It is more necessary for me to make a good impression. I don’t carry your credentials, remember.”

  “As my friend, I think you do.”

  “Even so, I need an extra fillip. They know that you are the worthy daughter of a worthy general high in the King’s favour. All my glory is reflected. I must try to make a little of my own.”

  “Very well,” I replied. “Wear your most elaborate dress, but it will be your manners on which you will be judged.”

  She laughed, mocking me, and when we dressed she selected one of her simplest gowns. She looked charming in it, I thought, for the blue wool with a peaked bodice set off her slender waist; and with her hair piled high and drawn off her face to show that high forehead, she looked regal.

  Lucas was already in the salon when we came down and Lady Eversleigh took Harriet and me by the hand and led us forward.

  “Just an intimate gathering tonight,” she said. “I thought it better that we get to know each other before the others arrive. Yes, we are having more friends visiting us. That is why I must put you two in the same room, for which I do apologize.”

  “It is because of my unexpected coming,” said Harriet quickly, “so it is for me to apologize.”

  “Please … please we are delighted to have you. I always say the more the merrier. It is merely that not being in our own home we are cramped for space. Now here is my daughter Charlotte and Sir Charles Condey … a very dear friend. And where is Edwin?”

  “He will be here shortly, Mama,” said Charlotte. Charlotte, I assessed to be in her late twenties. She had a mild face, with light brown hair hanging in rather reluctant curls, which looked as though the slight breeze would unwind them and let her hair return to its natural state which was completely straight. Her mouth was smallish and rather pinched, and there was a fawnlike look about her as though she were poised for flight and would leap off if she should be startled. Her gown suited her; it was of silk and lace and of a deep blue which accentuated the colour of her eyes which were rather large but too prominent for beauty.

  She took my hand and smiled at me. Timid, I thought and eager to be friends. I warmed to her.

  Sir Charles Condey was bowing. He was, I guessed, about the same age as Charlotte. Of medium height, inclined to be rotund, which made him look shorter than he actually was. Big brown eyes which reminded me of those of a horse, large features generally, pleasant, but rather lacking in vitality, I assessed, but easy to like as long as one did not have to spend too much time with him.

  I reprimanded myself for making hasty judgements. My mother had warned me of it. I remember her saying: “People who sum up others on a first meeting are invariably mistaken. You can only really know people after years of living together and then it is amazing what one has to discover.”

  “I trust you had an easy journey,” said Sir Charles.

  “We did,” I told him. “It was just as Lady Eversleigh said it would be.”

  He was looking at Harriet. She was smiling. The special smile I had noticed she bestowed even on Lucas. Sir Charles blinked a little as though he were slightly dazzled.

  “It was so good of Lady Eversleigh to let me come,” she said. “I am staying with Arabella and her family.”

  “We are glad you did,” said Lady Eversleigh. “We shall be a large party, and it is always so much easier to entertain with a crowd.”

  “Oh, I do agree,” said Harriet. “There are so many more things one can do with numbers.”

  “As soon as Edwin comes we will go in to dinner,” went on Lady Eversleigh. “I can’t think what is keeping him. He knows we have guests.”

  “Edwin is never punctual,” said Charlotte. “You know that, Mama.”

  “Many times I have reasoned with him. I have told him that unpunctuality is bad manners just as much as slamming a door in someone’s face. The implication is that there is something more interesting to claim the attention and
therefore everything else can wait. That is what my husband Lord Eversleigh impressed on me. As a soldier he is naturally the most punctual man alive. I had to mend my ways when I married him. Really one would not believe that Edwin … Ah, here he is. Edwin, my dear boy, come and meet our guests.”

  All her annoyance had faded at the sight of her son, and I could understand it. I thought Edwin Eversleigh was the most attractive man I had ever seen. He was tall and very slim. He faintly resembled his sister Charlotte, but the likeness had the effect of making her look more insignificant than ever. His hair was the same colour as hers, but it was more abundant and had a faint kink in it which made it manageable. He wore it to his shoulders after the fashion which had prevailed at the time when King Charles had lost his head. His loose-fitting coat of brown velvet was braided and tagged about the waist. His sleeves were slashed to show a very white cambric shirt below. His breeches matched his coat in colour. It was not his clothes, though, which I noticed but the man himself. I imagined he was several years younger than Charlotte; that he was his mother’s darling was obvious. The way in which she said: “My son, Edwin,” was very revealing.

  I find it difficult to describe Edwin as he was at that time because to give an account of the size of his nose and mouth and the colour of his hair and eyes conveys little. It was something within him—a vitality, a charm, a quality which was immediately obvious. When he came into a room something happened. The atmosphere changed. Attention was focused on him. I knew what Harriet meant when she said that some people had this quality. She had it, of course. I saw that clearly now.

  _Edwin was looking at me, bowing, smiling. I noticed the way he half closed his eyes when he smiled, how his mouth turned up at one corner more than the other.

  “Welcome, Mistress Tolworthy,” he said. “We are delighted that you should come.”

  “And that she has brought her friend, Mistress Harriet Main,” added his mother.

  He bowed. “I shall be eternally grateful that you allowed me to come,” said Harriet.

  “You are a little rash, I can see,” he said, and I noticed that one eyebrow lifted higher than the other just as his mouth did when he smiled. “If I were you I should reserve a little of that gratitude for a while. Wait until you get to know us.”