“If we make mistakes,” said Harriet, “we must never brood on them. We should accept them as experience.”
Experience! I thought. A musk-scented bed and a man who demanded everything from me, who humiliated me in such a way that I could only find peace of mind in forgetfulness.
I was almost on the point of confessing to Harriet, but I restrained myself in time. It was my shameful secret. It was better locked away in my mind. It must never come out to the light of day. I wouldn’t let it. I could not bear it.
So she thought only of my love for Jocelyn, which was something I did not want to forget.
“Your mother has the light of battle in her eyes,” went on Harriet. “Edwin today, Priscilla tomorrow. She wants grandchildren playing at her feet. Dear Arabella, she was always a sentimental creature. I know exactly what she feels and thinks. I love her dearly. She has meant a lot in my life. And now there is you and our little devil-angel Carlotta. There is one who is going to live an exciting life. I hope I live to see it.”
Of course, Harriet was right about my mother. She was delighted by Edwin’s betrothal. She said to me one evening: “Priscilla, I am so happy about Edwin. I am sure Jane will make him a good wife.”
“You always wanted Jane for him,” I reminded her. “You stopped his marrying Christabel.”
“And how right that was! Christabel has found complete happiness with Thomas. He was just right for her. And they have dear little Thomas. That is a happy household.”
“But she was very unhappy when Edwin allowed himself to be persuaded.”
“My dear child, if he had really cared for her he would not have been persuaded. And if she had really cared for him she could not be as happy as she is with Thomas. So it was all for the best.”
She looked at me wistfully.
“You were meant to marry, Priscilla,” she said. “Your turn must come.”
“I hadn’t thought of it,” I replied.
“To see you with that child Carlotta … She is a little minx, I think. She has even fascinated your father. To see you with her makes me feel that you should not delay too long before marrying. You can’t go on being a child forever. I thought only this morning when I watched you with Carlotta, Priscilla was meant to be a mother.”
I smiled at her. Dear Mother, I thought, I wonder what you would say if you knew that Carlotta is my daughter, and that I also gave myself so utterly, so completely and so shamefully to a wicked man in exchange for my father’s life.
It was April in the following year that Edwin and Jane were married. The Merridews lived not more than five miles from us and there were great celebrations in their country house.
Edwin seemed quite happy and Jane certainly was. My mother was contented too. She and Jane had become very good friends, which was as well, for, when the celebrations were over, Jane would come to live with us at Eversleigh which would be her home from henceforth. Eversleigh Court belonged to Edwin, as he was in the direct line, although my father had always managed the estate and I was sure looked on the place as his. Edwin was of such a temperament that it never occurred to him to stress otherwise.
It was a good match for the Merridews—providing, of course, that there was no trouble through my father’s involvement with the Monmouth Rebellion. Estates and fortunes could be lost overnight through such activities.
The Merridews, like ourselves, were keeping away from the Court at this time, remaining in the country, which was some way from London. We were hoping that recent events would soon be forgotten, although we did hear rumours that there were many who did not care for the new King’s views and that trouble was brewing in various quarters.
“Whatever it is,” said my mother firmly, “we are keeping out of it.”
And I think that in view of my father’s recent experiences, her words carried weight.
At this time there was nothing to think about but the wedding and we travelled to the Merridews for the ceremony, which took place in the chapel in their house. There was a banquet and much toasting of the married pair, after which they went back to Eversleigh, for it was considered fitting that they should spend the first night of their married life in the traditional bridal chamber which my mother had prepared for them.
We stayed at Merridew Court for two nights before returning, and as we were riding home side by side my mother said to me: “It is a great pleasure to me to see Edwin happily married. Jane is such a pleasant creature. I am sure they will be happy.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “they suit each other. It wouldn’t occur to either of them to be anything but happy together.”
“Now what do you mean by that?”
“Well, I think they would always do what was expected of them and everyone expects them to be happy.”
“That is not such a bad thing, is it?”
“No. But it doesn’t always work out so neatly for some.”
I wished I had not said that for it gave her an opening.
“My dear Priscilla, I should like to see you as happily settled.”
I was silent.
“I know,” she went on, “that you felt some romantic attachment to that poor young man, but it is quite a long time ago and you were only a child then.”
Still I said nothing.
“It was only a childish fancy, my dear. You mustn’t let it colour your life. You must meet more people. You seem so serious sometimes … almost as though you are brooding. You have been different since we came back from Dorchester.”
It would have been so easy then to have shouted the truth, to tell her what I had done, to explain the mystery of my father’s release. I wanted to laugh mockingly at her references to me as a child. A child who had borne a child, who had lived through that night with Beaumont Granville! She was an innocent compared with me. I was the worldly one, the woman who had lived.
We had been back at Eversleigh Court two days when Leigh arrived. He had been unable to get back in time for the wedding.
It was a great pleasure to see him. He had grown visibly older. He had seen service abroad and there was a certain uneasiness in his manner. Later he told us the reason for this. Trouble was in the air. The King was favouring Catholics in all walks of life and a large proportion of the people did not like it. Leigh very much feared there would be rebellion in the country.
“Another civil war would be disastrous,” he said, when we sat over dinner. “Englishmen against Englishmen as it was not so long ago. It is different if it is one country against another. I don’t want to fight my fellow countrymen on whatever pretext. I wish I were not in the army. Perhaps I’ll retire and settle down.”
“That,” said my mother fervently, “would not be a bad idea. But if James were not King, who would be?”
Leigh lowered his voice. “There is the King’s son-in-law, William of Orange.”
“William of Orange!” cried my mother.
“Why not? He is married to Mary and she is the King’s eldest daughter. He has a claim of his own. Wasn’t his mother the eldest daughter of Charles the First? He is a Protestant and a steady man, a brave one too if not a very likeable one. But charm is not one of the necessary qualifications of a ruler.”
“This is strange talk,” cried my father, “but, by God, it would be a good day for England if ever this came to pass.”
“There would be a certain amount of conflict before it did,” Leigh pointed out. “I don’t like it at all. If only Charles had lived.”
“Ah, there you express the sentiments of us all,” said my father.
In spite of the happy occasion of the wedding a gloom had crept into the house. I think my parents were remembering the days of the Civil War when no man had known who was his enemy and my father had entered into a great charade, playing the character of a Roundhead while serving the Royalist cause. I had heard many a tale of those times.
Leigh and I went riding. We rode down to the sea and there tethered our horses. We walked together along the beach and suddenly he s
aid: “Will you marry me, Priscilla?”
I suppose I had always believed that one day he would ask me. In the old days before I had known Jocelyn, I had hoped he would. I had had a kind of hero worship for him when I was a child. He had always been my champion. Until Jocelyn had come along I should have said that Leigh was the one with whom I should want to share my life.
But I wasn’t that simple, innocent girl anymore. I had fallen in love with Jocelyn and then … there was Beaumont Granville. I should never really get him out of my mind. That night with him had made me feel I had no desire for marriage.
And yet here was Leigh … and I loved Leigh. I trusted him. He was my protector. He was the one who had thrashed Beaumont Granville for daring to attempt my abduction.
I was silent for some minutes, and I sensed Leigh’s disquiet.
“I’ve been waiting for you to grow up,” he said. “And I have been away so much. Priscilla, you do love me, don’t you?”
“Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
He stopped and joyfully took my hands. He looked into my face. “Then what is it?” he asked.
“I am not sure,” I answered.
“Not sure! But you have said you love me. You always did. When you were tiny you used to come to me first … with everything. I was the one you always wanted.”
“Yes, I know. You were like my brother.”
“Your brother. Yes that, but more besides. It wasn’t like Edwin, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. Yes, Leigh, you were the hero, the one who saved me when I was in difficulties … the shining knight in armour.”
“Now you are getting poetic. Why do you hesitate, Priscilla? There is no one else, is there?”
I shook my head.
I wished we had not come to the beach. I could remember so much. Jocelyn and I sitting there near the cave … the man who had walked along with the dogs and the awful fear that had possessed me then … groundless fear as it had turned out to be.
“Then what is it?” asked Leigh.
“It is not quite what it seems, Leigh. There are things you would have to know.”
“Then let me know them,” he said.
“I am afraid this will be a shock for you. Carlotta is my daughter.”
He stopped still and stared at me.
“You see, Leigh,” I said, “when you know everything you may not want to marry me.”
He said slowly: “It was Jocelyn … but I thought that was just a child’s admiration for a handsome young hero.”
“You always insisted on my childishness. You have made me a child for too long. I was not a child. I was young, but I fell in love with him, and when we were marooned on the Eyot we were lovers. He was taken the next day and, as you know, executed. I have Carlotta to remind me of him.”
“But Carlotta is supposed to be my mother’s daughter.”
I shook my head. “Harriet helped me. What I should have done without her, I do not know.”
“So you went to Venice. It was you who were going to have the child.”
“It was like a play to her and she played it magnificently. Harriet was wonderful to me. I shall never forget it.”
“Carlotta …” whispered Leigh. “I can’t believe this. It’s preposterous.”
“It would be with anyone but Harriet. She was determined to carry it out and she did.”
“Is this why you do not want to marry me? You are still in love with a dead man?”
“I love you, Leigh. Nothing can alter that. I always did. If I married anyone I should want it to be you. But what has gone before changes everything.”
“It does not change my feelings for you.”
“Oh, Leigh,” I said. I put my head against him and he held me tightly. I felt at peace there. I listened to the rise and fall of the waves and the melancholy screeching of the sea gulls. These were the sounds which had accompanied my meetings with Jocelyn. But this was different. This was Leigh, the strong man, the protector. I realized in that moment that I had loved Jocelyn because I had felt the need to protect him. I knew that if I had Leigh beside me I should draw on his strength and perhaps in time forget my fears. He knew the secret of Carlotta’s birth. It was a great relief.
I loved Leigh. Of course I loved him. Our future would be built on strong foundations—a love and trust which had existed since my childhood. I felt a surge of happiness such as I had not known for a long time, and an urge to tell him everything. I wanted to explain our fears for my father, my mother’s sickness which was born of heartbreak. I wanted to make him see that I had done what I did because I had to. If I could tell him, the memories would begin to fade. I could be happy again. That was what Leigh meant to me.
But I could not tell him. I could imagine his fury. It would be a cold rage such as that which had sent him to Beaumont Granville’s apartments where he had thrashed him to a dangerous degree. If he knew of this, he would kill Beaumont Granville. Of course I dared not tell. It must remain my secret.
“You should have told me before,” he said.
“You understand, Leigh?”
“Yes, I understand. It was a romantic adventure. He was in danger and we were all helping him. I understand it, Priscilla. And the result was … Carlotta. That of course makes a difference. We must see what can be done about that.”
“What do you mean? What can be done?”
“I know how you must feel about the child. Perhaps we could take her. She needs a father.”
“She has that in Gregory. He adores her.”
“She needs a mother. Harriet was never very maternal.”
“Carlotta loves her dearly, all the same. But how I should love to have her all to myself.”
“We will see what can be done.”
“Oh, Leigh,” I cried, “I am happier than I have been since … since …”
He took me in his arms and said: “It’s coming right now, Priscilla. It always had to be. You and I … I always knew it.”
He kissed me solemnly. We had plighted our troth.
Then we went back to the horses.
My mother was delighted.
She kissed me and then Leigh. “It is what I always hoped,” she said. “You always looked after her, Leigh. I remember you as a boy. You felt you ought, in the manly tradition, to despise girls, but you never could quite manage it with Priscilla, could you?”
“Never,” agreed Leigh. “Of course Priscilla was no ordinary girl.”
My father showed little enthusiasm. He quite liked Leigh, who was not unlike himself and different from Edwin, of whom he had a very poor opinion. I thought resentfully: I suppose he is glad to have his daughter taken off his hands.
“There should be no delay,” said my mother. “I daresay you will be called away, Leigh, all too soon.”
Leigh agreed that it might be so and arrangements went afoot with all speed.
Christabel came over from Grassland Manor to congratulate me. She had left plump Thomas Junior in his nurse’s charge. She hated to leave him for long but she had to come and wish me well.
She came to my room for a téte-a-téte.
Leigh had always loved me, she said. She had been envious because he had never looked at her. She lowered her gaze and said: “Priscilla, what about Carlotta?”
“He knows. I told him. I wouldn’t marry him without his knowing.”
“And he … understands?”
“Yes, he understands. He said … Oh, Christabel, this makes me so happy … he says that we must work out some plan to get her with us, so that she can be with her mother. He knows me so well. He knows exactly what I want.”
“He will be a good husband to you, Priscilla, and there is nothing so wonderful in life as a happy marriage.”
“You should know,” I said. “You are one of the fortunate ones who have achieved it.”
“And I don’t deserve it. That’s the point.”
“Nonsense. Ask Thomas whether you do or not. You have made him a very happ
y man.”
“Yes, he is happy, and that is something, isn’t it? At least I am responsible for that.”
“You must stop reproaching yourself, Christabel. You still do it, you know.”
“I was so envious. Envy is a deadly sin, Priscilla.”
“Well, you are rid of yours now. Wish me happiness like yours.”
“I do,” she answered, “with all my heart.”
Harriet came over a few days before the wedding accompanied by Gregory, Benjie and Carlotta.
That Harriet was delighted was obvious.
“It was what I wanted for you and Leigh,” she told me. “I can’t tell you how happy this has made me. I was an Eversleigh once … when I married Toby … and I was proud to be one. Now I shall have an Eversleigh for a daughter-in-law and I tell you this, there is no one I would rather have.”
“You have always been so good to me, Harriet. I have told Leigh about Carlotta.”
She nodded.
“It makes no difference. He still wants to marry me.”
“I should not think much of him if he did not.”
“He says that in time she should come to live with us.”
She took my hand and pressed it. “He’s right. Oh, isn’t this a lovely solution to our little drama? Wedding bells. It was always a popular finale. And so they lived happily ever after! That was always my favourite line.”
“A fairy tale ending,” I said. “But life is not a fairy tale.”
She looked at me sharply and again I had that impulse to tell her about Beaumont Granville. I must not. Nobody must know. I promised myself that I was going to forget he had ever existed. I was going to wipe out the memory of that night forever.
Leigh had to go to London. He would not go to Court but he would frequent the coffeehouses there where it was possible to pick up the latest news, for in these shops men of the Court, soldiers, politicians, wits and gossips, gathered and talked together with the utmost indiscretion.
I didn’t want him to go. I was afraid that something would happen to him. With every passing day I realized how important he was to me. I was even beginning to see that what had happened with Jocelyn was not the grande passion I had imagined it to be. Jocelyn had been a handsome boy in danger. We were alone on an island … two young people … and we had loved in a natural way. It happened so quickly. We were in love and we knew we could quickly be parted, so we foolishly snatched at those moments. We had talked of marriage. For a night we were as married people. Now I began to wonder what would have happened if he had escaped, if we had married. I was realizing that this growing emotion I felt for Leigh was strong and steady, unwavering, the sort of love I had seen between my mother and father. It was the true love, the love of endurance which nothing could change … not the flimsy stuff which is airy romance.
Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England 06] Page 24