“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 sleev
es 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.
Lament for a Lost Lover Page 20