Lament for a Lost Lover

by Philippa Carr

  “That old theme! Why should it not have been contrived? Was Toby ever as happy as he is now?”

  “That’s true. But being married to you must put a certain strain on him. It obviously has.”

  “You mean his heart attack. I’m very careful of him, Arabella. I’m fond of him. Oh, yes, I am. Besides, what would my position be if he were to die?”

  “Your home would still be here.”

  “I suppose so. But the old lady doesn’t like me. Charlotte hates me. Carleton …” She laughed. “See I only have you, and you are sometimes suspicious of me. Now if I was the one who was pregnant … If I was the one who was going to have a son. Has it occurred to you that if I did, my son would be next in line to your Edwin? He’d come before this son you may … or may not have.”

  There was a silence in the room. I had the sudden uneasy feeling that we were not alone.

  I turned and looked over my shoulder.

  Sally Nullens was standing there. She was holding a cup in her hand.

  “I’ve brought you this,” she said to me. “Good, strengthening broth. Just what you need.”

  It was later that night, after midnight I saw later when I was able to take note of the time. Carleton and I were asleep when we were awakened by a shout. We started up, and by the waving candlelight I made out the figure of Harriet.

  “Arabella. Carleton. Come quickly,” she cried. “It’s Toby.”

  We jumped out of bed, threw wraps around us and ran to the room which Toby and Harriet shared. Toby was lying in bed, his face ashen, his eyes wild.

  Carleton went to him and took his wrist. Then he put his ear to his chest.

  I knew as he turned that Toby was very ill.

  “Shall I send for the doctor?” asked Harriet.

  “Yes,” said Carleton.

  She ran out of the room.

  “Carleton,” I said, “is there anything we can do?”

  “Get some brandy. But I’m afraid …”

  I went to a sideboard and poured out some brandy. It had been kept in the room since Toby had had his first attack. Carleton lifted him and tried to pour the brandy into his mouth. It fell over his chin.

  “It’s too late,” murmured Carleton. “I feared it.”

  Harriet came back into the room.

  “I’ve sent one of the men,” she said. “Oh, God, he looks … awful.”

  “It may be too late,” said Carleton.

  “No …” she whispered.

  She went to stand on the other side of the bed. Carleton had gently lowered Toby down onto the pillows. We stood in silence looking at him.

  Then Harriet spoke: “If only that doctor would come. How long he is!”

  “The man has only just left,” Carleton reminded her. “He will be an hour at least.”

  Then the silence fell again. I stood at the head of the bed—Harriet on one side of it, Carleton on the other.

  Then there was a sudden gasp from behind us. Charlotte had come into the room.

  “I heard running about. What’s happened?”

  “He’s had an attack,” said Carleton.

  “Is it … bad?”

  “Very bad, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, poor, poor Uncle Toby.”

  Silence again. I could hear the clock on the mantelpiece ticking. It sounded ominous.

  We stood like statues round that bed. I was deeply aware of Charlotte. There was a kind of knowing look in her eyes.

  Nonsense, I said. You’re overwrought. It’s your condition.

  It struck me that we were like a tableau … full of meaning which I could only vaguely realize.

  They were somber days that followed. “Two deaths coming so suddenly one on another,” mourned Matilda. “Oh, how I hate death. He was so content. So much in love.”

  “Perhaps that was why,” said Charlotte.

  I saw a shiver run through Matilda. Then she said: “He forgot he was an old man. It happens like that sometimes.”

  “At least,” I reminded them, “he was happy. For the last year or so he was living in a kind of paradise.”

  “What kind?” asked Charlotte. “A fool’s paradise.”

  Of course she hated Harriet and had always resented the way in which she had been brought into the family.

  There was another one who hated Harriet and that was Sally Nullens. But perhaps she feared rather than hated her. She mourned Toby sincerely. She had remembered him before he went away. “He always believed the best of everyone,” she said with meaning.

  Poison in the Marriage Cup

  I BEGAN TO FEEL unwell. The months of waiting seemed longer than they had when I was awaiting the birth of Priscilla. I think I was obsessed by the fear that I might not have a son.

  That made me resentful towards Carleton. It was so stupid to blame a woman because the sex of her child was not what her husband hoped for. Kings had done it in the past. I thought of Anne Boleyn and all that had happened through her failing to get a son and how she must have felt during the long waiting months, the outcome of which would decide her future. The reverberations of that affair had affected my ancestress Damask Farland and her family. It was unfair, so arrogant, so typical of a certain kind of man. Henry VIII’s kind. Carleton’s kind.

  Our own King Charles could not get a legitimate son, although he had several boy bastards. I wondered how his gentle Queen felt about her inadequacy. Perhaps she was not so anxious as I was. Charles might be a blatantly unfaithful husband but by all accounts he was a kindly one.

  It was a hot summer’s day when it happened. I had four more months to go before the expected birth of my child and I was in the garden with Priscilla. I could hear the boys at the shooting butts just behind the lawn. Every now and then I would hear a shot, then a whoop of delight or perhaps a groan. They were happy. That much was certain. Edwin was really enjoying the discipline imposed by Carleton and I was rather gratified to notice that he had a great respect for him. He did not love him; he was too much in awe of him for that, but he certainly looked up to him with a kind of reverence. I was pleased at this, and I knew Carleton relished it. I hoped it would make them feel closer together.

  I was thinking of this and had not noticed that Priscilla had toddled away. She had an exploring nature and was constantly attempting to evade supervision. Looking up suddenly I saw to my horror that she was making towards the shooting butts.

  Horrified, I sprang up and ran towards her, calling her name. She seemed to think it was some sort of game, for she increased her speed. I could hear her chuckling to herself. Then I caught the heel of my shoe in a gnarled root and fell.

  I was panic-stricken and in sudden pain. I called, “Priscilla, Priscilla,” and tried hard to rise. “Come back. Come back.”

  I stood up and fell again.

  Then I saw Carleton coming towards me. He was carrying Priscilla.

  When he saw me, he put her down and ran towards me.

  “What happened?”

  “I was afraid … She was running towards the butts. I … I fell.”

  He lifted me up in his arms and carried me into the house.

  I heard him shout to one of the servants: “Send for the doctor … at once.”

  I lay on my bed. The room was darkened, for they had drawn the curtains across them to shut out the light. I was tired and dispirited though the pain had passed.

  I believe I had been very ill.

  Sally Nullens came into the room.

  “Ah, awake then.” She was standing over me with the inevitable bowl of broth.

  “Oh, Sally,” I said.

  “You’ll be all right, mistress,” she said. “My word, Master Edwin has been in a fine state. I’ve not been able to quieten him. I can tell him now, though, that you’re on the mend.”

  “I’ve lost the baby,” I said.

  “There’ll be other babies,” she answered. “Praise God, we didn’t lose you.”

  “Was I so bad, then?”

  “Don’t do you muc
h good talking. Take this. It’ll put life into you.”

  So I took it. She watched me. She said: “I’ll bring them in to see you before they go to bed. The three of them. I’ve promised them, you see.”

  She brought them in. Edwin flew at me and hugged me so tightly that Sally protested.

  “Do you want to strangle your mama, young man?”

  Leigh tried to push him aside. “Me too,” he said.

  Priscilla was crying because she was being left out.

  I smiled happily at them.

  Whatever happened I had them.

  Carleton came and sat by my bed. Poor Carleton, how disappointed he was!

  “I’m sorry,” I said stretching out a hand. He took it and kissed it.

  “Never mind, Arabella. There’ll be another time.”

  “There must be. I shall not rest until you have your son.”

  “There has to be a rest after this … a year at least, they tell me. Perhaps two.”

  “You mean before we have a child?”

  He nodded.

  “At least,” he said, “you’ve come through. You’ve been very ill, you know. If only you hadn’t … But what’s the good?”

  “I was terrified.”

  “I know. Priscilla!” He said the name almost angrily.

  “I thought she would get into the shooting range and …”

  “Don’t fret about it. She didn’t. In any case I should have seen her and stopped the firing.”

  “Oh, Carleton, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t say it like that. As though I’m some … monster …”

  “You are,” I said with a return of my old spirit.

  He bent down and kissed me. “Get well, quickly, Arabella,” he murmured.

  Matilda came.

  “Oh, my dear, dear child, how wonderful that you can now have visitors. I have been beside myself with fear. It was so dreadful … my dear husband, Toby … and then you. It was as though there was some evil spell on the house. …”

  She stopped. I noticed that Sally was in the room.

  “It was just an unfortunate chain of circumstances,” I said. “Let’s hope this is the end of our troubles.”

  “It must be because you are well again. Sally tells me that you are picking up very quickly. That’s so, eh, Sally?”

  “I know how to treat her, milady. I’m going to have her on her feet before the week’s out. You’ll see. …”

  “I’ve always trusted you, Sally. Ah, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte had come into the room.

  “Charlotte, see how well Arabella is looking,” went on Matilda. “Almost her old self, don’t you think?”

  “You look much better,” said Charlotte. “I am so glad and very sorry that it happened.”

  “It was an unfortunate accident.” I said. “I should have been more careful.”

  “Yes,” said Charlotte quietly.

  “Do sit down, Charlotte,” said her mother. “You look so awkward standing there.”

  Charlotte meekly sat and we talked for a while of the children. Poor Edwin had been heartbroken. Having been introduced to death through his grandfather and Uncle Toby, he had feared that I was going to die.

  “It was hard to comfort him,” said Charlotte. “Leigh could do it better than anyone. How close those two boys have become.”

  We talked of Priscilla and how bright she was. She too had missed me and kept saying my name and crying for me.

  “So you see how glad everyone is that you are getting well,” said Matilda.

  Then Sally came and said that I ought not to tire myself and she thought I had talked enough for a while.

  So they went out and left me alone with my thoughts. I could not stop thinking of Carleton’s disappointment, and I wondered how deeply he blamed me … and perhaps Priscilla … for what had happened.

  It was two days later when Harriet came to see me. I was much stronger then, sitting up and even taking an occasional walk round the room.

  “We must not go too fast,” Sally ordered, and she was undoubtedly mistress of the sickroom.

  I had insisted that she take a rest that afternoon, for I knew how tired nursing me made her, for she insisted on keeping her eye on the children as well, and she was lying down. I guess that that was why Harriet had chosen this time to come.

  She tiptoed into the room, her lovely eyes alight with a kind of mischief.

  “The dragon is sleeping,” she said in a dramatic voice. “Do you know she has been breathing fire at me every time I approached.”

  “So you came before?”

  “Of course I came. You don’t think I would stay away when you were ill, do you?”

  Her presence made me feel alive again. She exuded vitality. I was pleased to see her.

  “You don’t look as though you’re dying,” she said.

  “I am not,” I answered.

  “You had us all very worried, I can tell you.”

  “I feel so angry with myself. After all that waiting … it is gone.”

  “You mustn’t fret. That’s bad for you. You must be thankful that you were not taken away from your beloved family. Edwin was distrait.”

  “I know, they told me. He is a dear boy.”

  “So devoted to his mama and so he should be. So should we all. Arabella … I haven’t told anyone yet. I want you to be the first to know. It’s wonderful really. It’s made me feel happy again. I did love Toby. I know you doubted my feelings. You’ve never really forgiven me for Edwin, have you?”

  “Oh, that … It’s so long ago.”

  “I know your nature. You forgive but you can’t forget. You’ll never quite trust me again, will you?”

  “Perhaps not.”

  “I’m going to make you. I’m so fond of you, Arabella. That makes you smile. You think I couldn’t do what I did and be fond of you. I could. What happened between me and Edwin was outside friendship. Those things always are. The attraction arises quite suddenly sometimes and it’s irresistible. One forgets everything but the need to satisfy it. When it’s over, the rest of one’s life slips back into shape and it’s just as it was before. …”

  I shook my head. “Let’s not discuss it. We shall never agree.”

  “I was brought up so differently from you, Arabella. I always had to fight. It’s become natural with me. I fight for what I want and take it and then consider the cost. But I didn’t come to say all this. It’s just that when I’m with you, I feel I have to justify myself. Arabella, I am going to have a child.”

  “Harriet! Is that possible?”

  “Obviously. Toby wasn’t all that old, you know.”

  “I can see you’re happy.”

  “It’s what I need. Don’t you see? You, of all people. Didn’t it happen to you? Think back. Your husband died suddenly and afterwards you found you were going to have a child. That is how it is with me. Come, rejoice with me. I feel like singing the Magnificat.”

  “When …?”

  “Six months from now.”

  She came to me and put her arms round me. “It makes all the difference. I shall stay here. I have a right to now. I had before, but a double right now. Old Matilda was hoping I’d go. So was Charlotte, and as for your Sally, she looks at me as though I’m the Devil incarnate. But I don’t care. I’m going to have a child. A little Eversleigh. Think of that. My own child.”

  “You won’t go away and leave this one, I hope,” I said coolly, but I was beginning to succumb to the old charm.

  She laughed. “Your tongue’s getting sharp again, Arabella. You get so much practice with Carleton.”

  “Is it so noticeable?”

  “Perhaps. But no doubt he enjoys it. Now about this baby …”

  “You say you haven’t told anyone?”

  “I was determined that you should be the first.”

  “If only Uncle Toby had known, how delighted he would have been.”

  Her eyes were a trifle misty. “Dear Toby,” she said. I was move
d, and then I wondered if she was still playing a part.

  The news of Harriet’s expectations astounded the household, and for a few days it was whispered that she must have imagined this was so. But as the weeks passed it became obvious that she was not mistaken.

  She was quite smug, and clearly enjoying her position. She behaved as though it was a great joke and in some way she had scored over us all.

  Carleton was shaken. I could see that.

  “If this is a boy,” he said, “he will be next in line to Edwin.”

  “Not when Edwin marries and has a son of his own.”

  “A good many years will have to pass before that.”

  “I wish you would stop talking of Edwin as though his days are numbered.”

  “Sorry. I was merely thinking …”

  “Of the line of succession. Really one would think Eversleigh was the throne.”

  He brooded on it, I know. I often saw him watch Harriet with an odd speculation in his eyes.

  There was a good deal of friction between us. Life had not been smooth since my miscarriage. He seemed resentful of my love for Priscilla and of course Edwin. Although I could understand a certain jealously of Edwin, it seemed incredible that a man could blame his own daughter because of the loss of a possible son.

  Carleton was unnatural, I told him. He was obsessed by his desire for a son. I knew, I said, that this was a common desire among a certain type of man but Carleton carried it to extreme. He was away a good deal. He went to Whitehall and I knew was prominent in Court circles. I often wondered about his life there. I used to worry about the weakening of our feelings for each other and I told myself it was inevitable. I knew I was in some ways to blame, and yet I longed for him to come back and to be to me what he had been in the beginning. But had he really been as I imagined him? There had been a violent passion between us, but was that the foundation on which to build a lifetime’s happiness? Perhaps I was wrong. I had always harked back to that glorious time with Edwin—which had been entirely false. Because of it I had been determined not be duped again. Had that made me hard, suspicious?

  Life seemed to have become unreal during the months that followed. Harriet was the only one who was content. She went about hugging her secret joy, and in the way I remembered so well she began to dominate the household.