“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 wonder
ful 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.”
The Return of the Prodigal
WHEN I AWOKE, FOR a few seconds I felt dazed and bewildered. I looked about the unfamiliar surroundings. Memory came back. I was in his room. I sat up in bed. He was not there. I saw my clothes lying on the floor where they had been dropped last night.
I closed my eyes, childishly trying to shut out memories with the sight of that room. Last night … I thought of Carleton holding that piece of paper in his hand … that revealing paper which was positive proof of the deception which had been carried out against me. The desolation … how could I describe it? My dreams, my ideals on which I had lived for seven years had been demolished by one single stroke.
And afterwards … I could not fully remember how it had happened. He had comforted me. He had soothed my wounded vanity, perhaps. He had given me something to drink which had warmed me and at the same time dulled my resistance.
I had been like a wax doll in his hands—no will to resist, I just gave myself up to him. How could I! How could I!
And yet I had been unable to do otherwise.
Where had he gone? What time was it?
I got out of bed, and horrified by my nakedness I slipped my gown over my head. I went to the window. The rain was still falling. It was probably later than I had realized because it was a dark morning. I thought of the maid arriving at my room with hot water, finding my bed unslept in. Strange that at such a time I should be thinking of the proprieties.
I snatched my things from the floor and opened the door. I looked out. The house seemed quiet and I sped along to my room.
To my relief I saw from my clock that there were a good fifteen minutes before they would bring my hot water. I took off my dress and threw it into a cupboard with the rest of my things, then putting on a nightgown I got into bed.
Lament for a Lost Lover Page 28