“I do love you, Benjie,” I said. “I do. I do.”
Another shock awaited me next day.
It was morning. Clarissa was having a riding lesson. She was very young of course, but Benjie had bought her a tiny Shetland pony and she was allowed to ride round the paddock on a leading rein. She loved it and talked endlessly of “Shets,” her pony, with wild accounts of how he talked to her and what fun they had together, creating the most impossible adventures in which they were supposed to have shared.
I came down to the hall and Harriet appeared at the door of the winter parlour.
“We have a visitor, Carlotta,” she said.
My heart began to pound. For a moment I feared that Hessenfield had been foolhardy enough to call on us.
I went into the parlour.
Matt Pilkington rose from his chair and came forward to take my hand.
I felt the blood rush to my face.
“Why …” I stammered. “I … I had not expected …”
“I am staying at the Fiddlers Rest for a few nights,” he said.
The Fiddlers Rest was an old inn about a mile from Eyot Abbass.
“I felt,” he went on, “that I could not be so close and not call to see how you were.”
I heard myself say: “It … it is a long time.”
Harriet said: “I am just going to the kitchens to tell them to bring some wine. You can talk to our guest while I am gone, Carlotta.”
And she left us.
He said: “I had to come, Carlotta. I almost have many times but …”
“Perhaps it would have been better not to,” I replied.
“Have you seen Damaris?” he asked.
“Yes, I have recently returned from a visit to Eversleigh. It is the first time since …”
“How was she?”
“She was very ill, you know. Some mysterious fever which has changed her. She is more or less an invalid.”
He was silent and stared for a moment at the floor.
“I have told myself so often that I could never forgive myself. Nor can I,” he said at length. “And yet … and yet … I know that if I could go back it would be the same. I have thought of you constantly. I can never be happy again without you …”
“Please,” I interrupted, “I do not want to listen. You see me here. I have a husband … I have a child.”
He said: “You had a husband … you had a child when …”
“I know. There is something wicked about me. I am selfish. I am impulsive … I do things which hurt others and myself and I do them recklessly. I am trying now to live a better life. You must go away, Matt. You should never have come.”
“I had to, Carlotta. I was afraid to call here … but I had to talk to you again. I saw you yesterday …”
“Where?” I cried.
“It was … near the house and I saw you ride in. It was in the late afternoon … and once I had seen you again that was enough.”
“Listen to me, Matt,” I said, “that which was between us is over now. It was a momentary madness on both sides. It was wrong … it was wicked. I blame myself. Damaris loved you … and to find us as she did … She was out all that night, you know, in that dreadful storm. They were frantic … searching for her. She would have died if her father had not found her when he did, and it was our fault, Matt. We could have killed her. That is enough. We must never meet again. I am selling Enderby Hall. I can never bear to go into the place again. Nor could Damaris I am sure … although she is unable to. We visited Eversleigh and she had to be helped in. Imagine that! Damaris, who used to ride everywhere on old Tomtit. It is unbearable. The only way we can endure it is to try to forget.”
Harriet came back.
“They are bringing the wine,” she said. “Now tell us what you have been doing since you left Grasslands. I suppose you are on leave from the army. I remember that you were a soldier. I suppose everyone is being pressed into service now with all these glorious battles on the Continent.”
“Yes,” he said. “I am on leave.”
“And you will soon be rejoining your regiment, I suppose. I hope Marlborough will soon be bringing this silly old war to its conclusion.”
“Let us hope so,” said Matt.
“And how is your mother?”
“She is well, thank you.”
“And happily settled in London, I hope, after her brief taste of the country.”
“Yes, I think the town suits her best.”
Harriet sighed. “The town has so much to offer. Does she go to the theatre often?” She turned to me, for she seemed to have realised that I was unusually silent. “Do you know, the theatres are not flourishing in France. Madame de Maintenon is making poor old Louis quite pious. He is repenting in his old age. He has closed most of the theatres. As if that will ensure him a place in heaven! He will not win this war, I promise you. The best way to court defeat is to close the theatres.”
“Oh, Harriet,” I said with a forced laugh, “what extraordinary reasoning!”
“Oh, yes, my dear, it is so. People need cheering—especially in wartime—and the best way to depress them is to take away their divertissements. Do you agree?” She smiled at Matt.
“I am sure you are right,” he said.
“Of course I am,” she cried. “The people were delighted to welcome back King Charles because they were so tired of Puritan rule. I remember well the rejoicing when the good old days came back. Mind you, I was very young at the time …”
“Of course you were, Harriet,” I soothed.
“I wonder if your mother remembers when we played together. It was in The Country Wife, I believe.”
“Yes,” said Matt, “she has mentioned it.”
“I left the theatre soon after that. But once an actress, always an actress. I confess the sight of the footlights can never fail to thrill me.”
So the talk went on and I believe neither Matt nor I listened.
When he took his leave Harriet asked him when he expected to arrive in London.
He replied that he might stay at the Fiddlers Rest for a day or so. He liked the inn, and the surrounding country was very attractive. He had a few days to spare. He liked to walk and ride in the country.
“Call and see us again if you wish to,” said Harriet.
“Oh, thank you,” he said.
We were not alone again but I knew by the fervent look in his eyes that he would return to Eyot Abbass.
It was later that day when Jane Farmer came to me with considerable apprehension. She wanted to know if Clarissa was with me.
I was surprised. Clarissa was usually in the garden at this time. She rested in the afternoon. It was something Jane had insisted on, although Clarissa was inclined to rebel. However, Jane was always firm and Clarissa had come to the conclusion that it was wiser to obey her.
“I was sitting in the summer house,” said Jane, “with my sewing, as I always do, and she was playing nearby with her shuttlecock. She was batting it up and down and was calling out now and then as she always does; and then suddenly I realised there was no sound. I immediately put down my sewing and went to look. I couldn’t see her anywhere. I presumed she had come in to see you.”
“But, no,” I said. “She has not been to me.”
“She was talking about you and how she was going to show you the new bat she had … so I thought …”
Alarm was beginning to stir within me.
“She is a wilful child,” I said. “She has been told not to stray away but to keep you within sight.”
“We were only in the garden. I think she must have come in to see you.”
I refused to face the idea which was beginning to come to me.
“We must find her at once,” I said.
Harriet came in and when I told her, she said she would search the house. I said I would do the same in the garden.
She must be somewhere there, I thought. I remembered the occasion when she had hidden somewhere to tease us and another
when she had gone to sleep in the shrubbery.
Jane was growing more and more worried. She was blaming herself, but I knew how mercurial Clarissa could be and that it was impossible to watch her all the time.
We searched everywhere and in an hour’s time we had not found her. Now we were beginning to get very frightened.
Benjie and Gregory, who had been out on estate matters, came in and joined in the search. It was Benjie who found a green feather in the shrubbery. We recognised it as coming from her shuttlecock.
Then I feared the worst.
Harriet said: “She will be safe somewhere. It reminds me of the time you were lost and found in Enderby Hall.”
I didn’t want to think of Enderby Hall ever again and I was terrified for Clarissa.
My fears were now beginning to take a definite form. I thought: He couldn’t. He wouldn’t do such a thing. But I knew he was capable of anything.
I went to the tree I had mentioned—the old oak where we had put our notes and of which I had spoken to Hessenfield. I put in my hand.
Inside was a note and with trembling hands I opened it and read:
My darling, do not be distressed. The child is well and happy. You must join us. Meet me in this spot tonight. I will be ready for you.
H.
I stood there crunching the paper in my hand. I could not describe my feelings. Relief that she was safe; pride, I think, because he had wanted her so much that he risked his life to take her; excitement at the thought of being with him again; and a certain desperate determination to be true from now on to Benjie. My feelings were all so jumbled. I was wildly happy and desperately sad all in the matter of seconds. My mind kept wandering on to the night, to seeing him again, to flying with him … where? … to the coast of course. I knew that a boat would be waiting there. I knew that this night I could begin a life of excitement and exhilaration. I could be reunited with my child, who was meaning more to me every day. The child and her father.
That was what I wanted. What was the use of denying it? This sober life in the country was something I was not meant for. Damaris would have enjoyed it. And Damaris had been denied it. How happy she would have been married to Matt and having children. But I had spoilt that for her. I could so easily spoil Benjie’s life … but I must not. There was enough on my conscience already.
What should I do?
There were two alternatives. No, three. One would lose me my child, and I was determined that should not be. It was that I should say nothing of this, do nothing … not go to meet him. Refuse to see him until he went away taking Clarissa with him. Another way was to show the note to Benjie and Gregory and Harriet. To let them know that he had Clarissa, who he was, and to have soldiers surround the shrubbery and take him at the time when I was to meet him. He would have to give up Clarissa then and that would be the end of him. That would be the loyal course of action—to Benjie and to my country. The last alternative was to go to the meeting place in secret to see him …
I knew what would happen. He would carry me off, by force if need be. Knowing him, I realised what was in his mind.
I could not return to the house yet. My thoughts were in a turmoil.
How could I let them go on searching frantically for Clarissa when I knew where she was? Yet how could I let them know that she was in the keeping of the Jacobite leader who was a wanted man.
Finally I went back to the house. Benjie put an arm about me. His face was white and strained.
“Where have you been? I was beginning to get anxious about you.”
That was the moment to show him the paper which I had screwed up and put inside the bodice of my gown. My hand went to it. It was the sight of Benjie, who loved me so much, who was such a good man. But the moment passed and I did not mention it. I went on letting them believe that Clarissa was still lost.
So the search went on. I shut myself in my bedroom and wrestled with myself.
How could he have done this? He had no right to take her. But what would be the use of talking to Hessenfield about rights? He knew only one law and that was his own. What was right would always be what he considered best for him.
An hour passed and still I was undecided.
They were all out searching the district. Jane Farmer was frantic and I almost told her to put her out of her misery.
What folly! How could I?
I had come to a decision. I would go and see him. I would insist on his bringing back the child.
I put on a cloak and went down to the shrubbery. I waited there in the shadow of the trees.
I did not wait long. I was caught from behind and held against him. I heard his low laughter as he pressed his lips against my ear.
“You are mad,” I said. “This could cost you your life. Where is the child?”
“Safe. We are going to France tonight. My mission here is done. I have everything I came for … and more. My daughter. I adore her already.”
“Where is she?” I insisted.
“Safe,” he repeated. “Come on. The sooner we’re away the better. I have a notion they are on my trail. We have to get to the coast. I have a horse here to take us. There is a boat a little way along the coast … at a nice secluded spot.”
“You really are mad. Do you think I am coming with you?”
“Of course you are coming. Don’t waste time.”
I pulled myself away from him. “I came to tell you that …”
He caught me to him laughing and began kissing me.
“That you love me,” he said between kisses.
“Do you think I am as cruel and callous as you are? Do you think I can just walk out on my husband because you have come back?”
“I am more to you than he can ever be. I am the father of our child, remember.”
“I wish I had never met you, Hessenfield,” I said.
“You lie, dear Carlotta. Admit it. That was love, was it not? Do you remember how you refused to betray me? You could have done so now.”
“Yes, I could, and how do you know that I have not? Perhaps a troop of soldiers is waiting to take you now.”
“I was ready to risk that,” he said. “And I’ll tell you why. I didn’t believe it possible. Come, sweetheart, we don’t want to tempt the fates, do we?”
“Where is my daughter? Give her back to me and go and I will tell no one that you have been here.”
He laughed at me. “Your daughter is very happy. We get on very well. She was delighted to come with me.”
“Where is she?”
“At sea,” he said. “Where you and I will be this night. This night, dear Carlotta. Think of it. There are so many memories. No one can ever be to me what you have been. Never shall I forget that brief period when we were together, you and I.”
“I cannot go,” I said. “You must understand that.”
He took my arm suddenly; then I was lifted from the ground. My cloak dropped from my shoulders. He was carrying me out of the shrubbery. There at its edge was a horse.
He put me on the saddle and leapt up beside me.
I am not sure how much I struggled. I did not entirely want to. Hessenfield’s adventurous spirit called to mine but I kept seeing Benjie’s face and I pictured him stricken as he would be if he knew that I had willingly gone away.
It was only a mile or so to the coast. There was a crescent moon which gave out a faint light and I could see the Eyot lying out there on a sea that was as calm as a lake.
He gave a low whistle and I saw a figure appear from the beach. It was a man who had evidently been lurking there.
“All well, sir,” said the man.
“Good,” replied Hessenfield.
He dismounted and lifted me down. The man took the horse and as Hessenfield dragged me over the shingle I heard the horse being ridden away at a gallop.
A small boat was bobbing about on the sea. A man was holding the oars, waiting.
We waded out to it the water up to our waists before reaching it. Hessenfield lif
ted me in.
“Lose no time,” said Hessenfield.
The man started to row out towards the Eyot. There was silence. Then Hessenfield said: “Faster. They’re on the beach. By God, we were just in time.”
I could see vague figures on the beach. A shot was fired. It narrowly missed the boat.
“We’ll soon be out of range,” said Hessenfield.
“We should have been well away but for your romantic adventures,” said the man.
“I know. But we’re going to be well away in any case. We’re nearly there.” We had rounded the island and I saw the ship.
“Safe!” said Hessenfield.
We came to rest by the side of the ship, a rope ladder was put down, I was sent up first. Hands reached out to drag me in.
Then in a few seconds Hessenfield was standing beside me.
He put his arm about me and laughed.
“Mission accomplished!” he said. “The most successful I ever carried out. We’d better leave at once. Come,” he went on, “you want to see our daughter.”
She was lying there asleep clutching her shuttlecock. I stooped over her and held her close to me.
She awoke.
“Mamma,” she said.
“Yes, darling …”
She opened her eyes wide.
“I’m on a big ship,” she said. “I’ve got a new father.”
Hessenfield knelt beside us.
“And you’re quite pleased with him, are you not? Tell your mother so.”
“He’s going to give me a new shuttlecock,” she said.
“You haven’t told her you’re pleased with me,” persisted Hessenfield.
She sat up and put her arms about his neck.
“This is his ship,” she said. “He’s going to show me how it sails.”
Crime Passionnel
I WAS THRUST INTO an entirely new scene. At the beginning it was so bewildering that I was more or less bemused by it. In the first place I had renewed that extremely demanding, satisfying, exhilarating and incomparable life with Hessenfield. We resumed it as though it had never been interrupted; and although at first I pretended to be outraged. Hessenfield quickly put an end to that and made me admit, if not in actual words, that I was as enchanted with his company as he was with mine.
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