I was a widow and therefore no inexperienced virgin. I was supposed to understand and to respond to their overtures.
I was rather relieved when Carleton Eversleigh took my hand and led me into the dance.
“I am not an expert performer,” he warned me. “But at least I can rescue you from poor Jemmy Trimble. He’s a foolish fellow and I could see how he wearied you.”
I raised my eyebrows and he went on: “Mind you, you might consider the change one for the worst.”
I replied: “It was good of you to give me a thought.”
“It is not good at all to follow one’s inclination. I saw you and thought how charming you look in fashionable garments. You should adorn the fashionable scene more often. You bring a freshness to it. You have a look of coming from another sphere.”
“The country mouse, perhaps?”
“Mice can be such pretty things, especially when they come from the country.”
“And what are all these exquisite creatures? Cats, I suppose, come to catch the mice?”
“Exactly. They are on the prowl. You see they have so recently been let out to roam freely. They can now adventure in the open. Their wickedness has become merely amusing. It earns them a laugh from their friends instead of eternal damnation as in the past.”
“You are very flippant.”
“It was ever a failing of mine. But without flippancy of any sort I will say how it delights me to see you here. You have at last decided to trust precious Edwin to his nurses. I’ll warrant you are wondering even at this moment whether he is safe. Admit it.”
“I do think about him.”
“Old Sally Nullens looked after his father and his aunt. She is like an angel with a flaming sword. I can tell you I had one or two brushes with her when I was trying to make a man of Edwin. She was afraid a little rough treatment would kill her darling. I wonder if history is going to repeat itself?”
“What do you mean?”
“We can’t have little Edwin growing up into an effeminate young gentleman afraid to venture out in case a drop of rain gives him a cold.”
“I shall know how to bring him up.”
“In some ways, yes. You will smother him with love and devotion. But even now he is aware that if he becomes too venturesome Mama is thrown into a panic. ‘What would your dear mama say?’ asks Sally Nullens. ‘That’s dangerous, that is.’ And little Edwin thinks: ‘I must be careful. I am so precious. I might get hurt if I did that.’ That’s no way to bring up a boy, Cousin Arabella.”
“You exaggerate. He will be taught riding, fencing, everything that a boy ought to know.”
“He lacks a father. Now a child needs both his parents. The mother’s loving care and the father’s guiding hand.”
“It is good of you to be so concerned.”
“Concerned. Of course I’m concerned. We are talking about the future Lord Eversleigh. Young Edwin will have a big responsibility and so will you.”
“His grandfather is going to live a good many years yet.”
“We hope that will be so, but when a grandson inherits he usually does so before he is mature. That is why Edwin will have to be rather especially reared for his role. I promise to help you. It is, after all, my affair. In a way I am his guardian. I know the Eversleigh affairs as well as my uncle does. You forget that before Edwin was born and after his father was dead, I was the heir to all that will now pass to your son.”
I could not completely suppress the shiver which ran through me.
“Oh, yes,” he went on. “Twice my expectations have been foiled. Once long ago before your husband was born—for I am some years older—I believe that on my uncle’s death all would pass to me. Then Edwin appeared and I took a step back. Edwin died and I took one step forward. Then little Edwin arrives and I am back where I was.”
“You are … resentful?”
“Wise men are not resentful of fate, dear Cousin. What is to be will be. That’s a wise saying for how could it be otherwise, and to rail against what is is a waste of time. I speak thus to show you what an interest I have in the Eversleigh inheritance, and I want your son to be worthy of it when it comes to him.”
“I believe his grandfather is fully aware of this. He will take Edwin in hand as soon as he is of an age to understand.”
“And I will play my part. I hope you will not marry rashly.”
“I have no intention of marrying rashly or otherwise.”
“Sometimes these intentions come overnight. I believe you met and married Edwin within a short space of time, so perhaps you are a lady who makes up her mind quickly. I sympathize. It is a habit of my own. I know what I want and I go out to get it … as I am sure you do. But I want you to know that I am at hand to help you.”
“I will remember that.”
“I wish that I were free to help more.”
I did not understand and I was silent. I heard him laugh quietly and there might have been a hint of mockery in that laugh. “I could think of a good solution to young Edwin’s future. Alas, there are too many obstacles.”
“I really don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Briefly, what a good thing it would be if you had the inclination to marry and I were free.”
I drew away from him in horror.
“Oh, I am merely thinking of the convenience of the matter. Nothing more, I do assure you. Merely a supposition, you see. ‘If’ and ‘if’ and ‘if’ again.”
“An insurmountable barrier of ‘ifs,’” I said grimly. “I can see my father. He is looking this way. If you will take me to him.”
“Your pleasure is mine. Oh, one thing more. You should visit the theatre while you are in Town. I am arranging a party for tomorrow. Charlotte will come and my uncle. I am asking your parents and I trust you will be of the party.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He disturbed me, that man. I did not like the manner in which he had pressed my hand as he had talked. If it had not been for the mockery in his eyes and the light and flippant talk to which I was becoming accustomed, I should have been more than a little alarmed. I could not believe that I heard aright. Could he really have meant that if circumstances were different we might have married! Of course it would be simply for Edwin’s sake. He saw himself as the only one who could bring up my son in a suitable manner and that was because little Edwin had stepped in and taken what Carleton had hoped would be his. But in any case he was married. Thank God for that. What an extraordinary man! What an extraordinary conversation! But that was the changing society. It was growing more and more daring. People behaved as though they had been in prison for years and now that they were let out wanted to make up for the suppressions of the past.
There was something about Carleton Eversleigh which disturbed me. I would not admit it to myself, but somewhere at the back of my mind I accepted the fact that he had a powerful effect on me. My mother had said something which I couldn’t forget. It was: “Women like us should marry. We are not meant to live alone.” I knew then that she was thinking of her sister Angelet who had disliked physical contact and consequently had ruined her marriage. I did not fully understand myself in this respect. My relationship with Edwin had been completely satisfying. I had shared his passion and yet I could not feel desire for anyone else. I longed for Edwin. I was still in love with Edwin and I believed I should be for the rest of my life. I wanted Edwin, but I could not think of putting anyone in his place.
Perhaps I was not fully grown. Perhaps I was as Carleton had said, the country mouse. Certainly it seemed that in the few days I had spent here in this society which was so different from that of Eversleigh, my horizons were extending. I was beginning to wonder whether my view of life was too simple. Black had been black, and white, white. I had failed to see the shading in between.
These brought me back to Carleton. I believed him to be a rake. He fitted into this licentious society. He had a wife and I was well aware that they went, as they said, “their own way
s.” I supposed that sort of life suited them both. They set great store on what they called “their freedom.” But were they happy? I wondered. I was not sure. There was so much of which I was not sure and particularly regarding Carleton.
What disturbed me about Carleton was that as soon as he entered a room I was aware of him. He was taller than most men and he had an air of complete indifference to the effect he was having, which I suppose would be called poise. Certainly he gave the impression that nothing would ruffle him. Edwin had lacked that. Edwin was always eager to make everyone feel easy and happy. Carleton gave the impression that he was indifferent to them. He was so sure of himself. Arrogant! I thought. And something else besides. There was in him an essential masculinity which was apparent in spite of the fashionable garments he wore. No amount of velvet and brocade could make Carleton effeminate.
I wondered why he spent so much time at Court when I was sure that his heart was at Eversleigh. But of course having lost his inheritance he would need to make a career for himself and perhaps he would do that at Court. At the same time he was concerned for Eversleigh. He wanted to bring young Edwin up that he might be worthy to undertake his duties.
All sorts of thoughts were whirling round in my mind—I refused to catch them and examine them. I didn’t want to. Some were wildly absurd … too ridiculous to consider for a moment.
But I wished I could stop thinking of Carleton Eversleigh.
My parents had another engagement and could not join us, so it was my father-in-law, Charlotte, Carleton and myself who rode to the playhouse in Lord Eversleigh’s carriage. It was an adventure in itself to ride through the London streets to the King’s House in Drury Lane. Those streets were full of noise and bustle. Carriages like our own were making their way to the playhouse and in them sat exquisitely clad gallants and patched and painted ladies. What a contrast they were to ragged beggars and those who lived by their wits. I saw them darting about among the passers-by, and I am sure many of the latter would be poorer by their purses before the night was out. The streets were ill-lit and mostly cobbled, dirty and unsavoury, and I should not have liked to be on foot and splashed by the filth which was thrown up by carriage wheels. I had never seen such a contrast of riches and poverty as there was on the streets of London.
“Never venture far on foot,” Carleton warned me. “You would not be safe for a moment.”
“I daresay,” I retorted, “that I could give as good an account of myself as anyone.”
“My dear,” put in Lord Eversleigh, “these beggars are skilled at their craft. They have a hundred villainies at their fingertips. There are trained bands of thieves roaming the streets.”
“The night watchmen, I hear, are of little use,” added Charlotte.
“You are right. They have become something of a joke,” replied Carleton. “Poor fellows, every night they take their lives in their hands.”
“What a dangerous place London is!” I cried. “I wonder why people set such store by it.”
“It is alive, Cousin,” said Carleton, fixing his eyes on me. They glowed with some emotion. Amusement, contempt, indulgence? I wasn’t sure. “I would rather face danger than stagnation. I am sure you would too.”
“Is it stagnation to live in quiet dignity?”
“Ha, you see, my lord, your daughter-in-law loves a discourse. I do not complain. I do myself. One of these days, dear cousin, we will thrash out the matter, for now, if I mistake not, we are turning into Drury Lane and you will have your introduction to the King’s theatre. This is His Majesty’s favourite, I do believe, and the Duke’s in Lincoln Inn does not enjoy the same patronage, for naturally fashion follows the King.”
As we alighted from the carriage, beggars pressed round us. I wanted to give them something, but Carleton had his arm through mine and drew me away.
“Never open your purse in the streets,” he whispered, “even though you have a protector.”
I disliked the way in which he said the word “protector,” but I could not protest as Lord Eversleigh and Charlotte would have heard and I thought might have wondered why I always wanted to take up Carleton’s words and contradict them.
I shall never forget my first sight of the interior of the playhouse. There was a magic about it and I guessed I was not the only one who felt this. We were in a box close to the stage, which gave me an opportunity to study the rest of the audience. There was a great deal of noise as patrons came in. There was the pit, which I should have felt not the best place to sit, for the roof above it was open and I imagined what would happen if the rain came in. The occupants of that part of the playhouse would have to scatter or be drenched. The middle gallery was slightly more expensive than the gallery above, which was now filling rapidly.
In the box opposite was a very fine lady in a mask, and with her an overdressed gentleman. The gentleman bowed as we entered and Carleton and Lord Eversleigh bowed back. The gentleman—if he deserved such a name—fixed his gaze on first me and then Charlotte and then came back to me.
“I hate these insolent men,” muttered Charlotte.
“Dear Cousin, that is Lord Weldon,” explained Carleton. “He thinks he does you an honour by gazing on you.”
“An insult more likely,” retorted Charlotte.
“His lady does not like it.”
“And who is she?” I asked.
“Don’t ask me. He changes mistresses every night.”
“Perhaps one day he’ll find his Scheherazade,” I suggested.
“She’ll need more than exciting tales to keep him, I do assure you.”
“At least she does not want us to see her face, since she is masked.”
“A fashion, Cousin.”
“Should we not have worn them?”
“You have no need to hide behind them. You are in respectable company. Weldon has his eye on you though. It would not surprise me if he seeks me out tomorrow with eager enquiries.”
“I hope you will reply to him in a suitable manner, and let him know that you consider his impertinence an insult to your family.”
“Dear Cousin, I will challenge him to a duel if that pleases you.”
“Duelling should be stopped,” said Lord Eversleigh. “It’s against the law in any case.”
“Agreed, Uncle, but although we ourselves might be guilty of insulting certain ladies, we must become incensed when insults are directed against our own.” Carleton was smiling cynically and I turned away from him, and looked below to where the orange girls with their baskets were trying to tempt the members of the audience to buy, and exchanging badinage with the men. There were scuffles as the girls were seized and some of the men tried to kiss them. Oranges rolled on the floor, and people trying to retrieve them scrambled about shrieking with laughter.
The place was filled with noise and the smell of none too clean humanity; yet it excited me. I was all eagerness for the play.
It was to be The Merry Wives of Windsor. Carleton told us that it had to be comedy. Nobody wanted tragedy anymore. They wanted laughter not tears. “Tears went out with the Roundheads.” They wanted frolics on the stage, not falling bodies. And what they wanted most was women on the stage. For so long men had taken women’s parts and although some like Edward Kynaston took women’s parts still, and looked so pretty on the stage that it was said many women fell in love with him and used to wait for him after the play and take him out in their carriages, it was the women who were now appearing on the stage who were largely responsible for its growing popularity.
Carleton told us how the King had gone to see Hamlet in which Kynaston was playing the Queen, and when the play was late in starting Charles demanded to know why. The manager, beside himself with anxiety, went to the royal box and explained: “May it please Your Majesty, the Queen is not yet shaved.”
His Majesty was highly delighted with the explanation and was in a particularly good mood which reflected throughout the playhouse and made a success of the play.
“His Maj
esty, of course, has already shown himself somewhat partial to the ladies,” said Carleton. “And his loyal subjects like to follow him in all his ways.”
Lord Eversleigh shook his head. “I say this out of no lack of loyalty,” he said, “but I think it would make his loyal subjects happier if he were more devoted to his Queen—and less to those harpies who surround him.”
“The Castlemaine’s hold is as strong as ever,” Carleton put in. “But that does not prevent the royal eye roving and the playhouse has much to offer … as you will see when the play begins.”
He seemed to be amused by some secret joke. I wondered what. I was soon to discover, for candles set along the front of the stage were lighted and the play was about to begin.
Shallow and Slender had emerged, but for a few moments nothing could be heard because of the noise in the audience. Shallow came to the front of the stage and some shouted: “Look out. You’ll catch your breeches in the flame.”
Shallow held up a hand. “My lords and ladies, one and all. I beg silence that we may play before you.”
The manner in which he spoke took me back to a snowy night in Congrève when the strolling players had come. The dramatic cadences and gestures reminded me of the strolling players.
The audience grew quieter and some shouted: “Come on, then, man.”
“With your permission,” said Shallow making a deep bow.
The play had begun.
Never having been in a playhouse before I was in a state of great excitement. I had always loved to playact and now I was seeing it done in a professional manner. I knew the play and I settled to enjoy myself.
Lament for a Lost Lover Page 21