She hung onto his hand, searching for rationality in this, feeling everything streaming away from her. “If you’d pretended you wanted to marry me in order to seduce me, that would be different. But you never promised anything.”
“And I cannot,” he said gently. “I am in no position to marry anyone, beloved. I should have told you before. I should have told you instead.”
She did not want to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was falling again, this time into painful confusion.
“Do you have a wife in Vienna?” Her voice sounded dry, distant. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
“No,” he said, eyelids lowered. “I am not married, there is no one else.”
“Why, then? Have you taken a religious vow?” He actually laughed at that, very softly. “No, nothing like that. I’m not going to lie to you. You’ve a right to know the reason, but I can’t tell you. I know it’s unfair, but I cannot.”
“Very well, I won’t ask. I’m sure it’s a good one.”
“It could hardly be worse,” he murmured.
“I don’t know what you want me to think of you, Karl! Were you a spy in the War, or something? If you’re trying to tell me you’re what David would call a ‘cad’, that you only pretended to care for me—I’m sorry, I just don’t believe it.” She spoke with dignity, but she felt tears aching behind her eyes. He was right; they had committed a sin that could only be rectified by marriage. Never had she felt so spiritually remote from her family, yet so morally bound to them.
Imagining her father’s devastation, if he ever found out, she went snail-cold.
Karl stroked her hair, quiet for a few moments. Then he said, “The only way to stop this happening was to avoid it in the first place. Now I don’t know what we are going to do. You must not doubt the strength of my feelings for you… “
“God, no,” she said, voice catching in her throat. “I don’t doubt that. You would only hurt me if you left me. You are not going to leave, are you?”
There was sorrow in his eyes. “I should,” he said. “But I can’t—even though I can see no way for this to end except in pain.”
“I don’t care! The feeling’s worth the pain, whatever it is.” Anyone might have walked in or seen them from the terrace, but he drew her to him, kissed her, held her tight with his head bowed against her hair.
“What are we going to do?” said Charlotte. She felt as if she had grown up very suddenly, broken through a barrier of fear and naïveté and found herself no longer an observer of life but right in the centre of the passion. “I’ll have to break my engagement.”
“Not for my sake.”
She looked at him, shocked. “You don’t think I could still marry Henry after this, do you?”
“You must do whatever you feel is right, but don’t misunderstand me. Whether you are married or not is irrelevant to what I feel for you.”
The words flew out before she could cage them. “You mean you can’t marry me, but you would be quite happy to commit adultery?”
“Only if you consented, beloved.”
“I don’t think you have any morals at all!”
“Not a single one. I thought that must be clear by now.” She tried to feel offended, but couldn’t. His eyes were swallowing her into the mesmeric darkness again. His long delicate hand against her cheek, he said, “Look into your heart, Charlotte. We sit here arguing about right and wrong, when all the time we both know that the conventions of society have nothing to do with us. Haven’t we always known it?”
***
That night, it was Karl who went to her room, and again the night after.
During the day they behaved as if nothing had happened—Charlotte with difficulty, Karl with invisible ease—but after midnight she would sit waiting for him, watching the ever-swaying shadows of the garden from the darkness of her room.
And when they were together, there was only the voluptuous tide of their obsession with each other. No concept of sin, because there could be none in the exquisite tenderness they shared. No thought of the future; that remained unspoken behind Karl’s eyes. Charlotte dared not ask who he really was and what was going to happen to them. She feared that if she did, the spell would break and he would vanish. They hardly spoke at all; there seemed to be nothing left that needed expression in words.
Is this what it’s like to be in love? she thought, alone in library on the third morning, staring out at the rain. This loss of control, this madness? Now I know why I was so frightened of it! The affectionate partnership of Anne and David seemed a world away from the fever of her relationship with Karl. It couldn’t be healthy, this bewitchment…
An addiction, yes. An opium-poppy lushness, heavy as laudanum, purple as night… and at the centre of the darkness, the burst of joy, the blazing ring of crystal. It must be wrong. Why else must it be kept secret?
She thought of Karl’s words, “How do I look to you? Fascinating, not quite human, perhaps? Can you explain why you feel drawn to me?” She didn’t understand, but it wasn’t human, the way he could seem as still as frozen starlight, as fluid as shadow. A changeling beauty. A dew-silvered web on which she threw herself, willingly, again and again. The blood-crimson stamen piercing the tightly folded rose…
Still her turmoil was jewelled with exquisite moments. Snatched secret meetings in the wild places of the garden, on the rare occasions they could escape the house without arousing suspicion. The wicked pleasure of pretending nothing was happening in front of the others; Karl’s cool angelic mask, his gracious indifference to Elizabeth’s flirting or Maddy’s attention-seeking; the speaking looks he gave Charlotte; the secrets they shared. Knowing her family would never believe or dream that their shy. lamb had tasted such forbidden pleasures; imagining their outrage if they found out. Karl, naked in the darkness, as passionate, beautiful and amoral as Lucifer himself.
“You must have had many lovers,” she’d whispered to him, one night in her bed.
“Not many,” he answered with a sad smile, “and not for a very long time.”
She laughed. “It can’t be that long. You can’t be more than five or six years older than me at most.”
“Nevertheless,” he sighed, “it seems an immeasurably long time ago.”
“I’m jealous of them,” she said, soft and intense.
“Charlotte.” He turned to her, eyes shining with fire, his fingertips caressing her breast. “Don’t be. There’s no need. They are… long in the past. I’m with you now. And I have never felt for anyone as I feel for you.”
His gaze on her was so fierce that it disturbed her as much as it reassured her. He never forbade her to ask questions, but he never answered them, either. All she could trust was his passion for her. It was only when they were apart that the glow faded and doubts dripped coldly into Charlotte’s mind.
What if I found I was expecting a child? I should die of shame. I’m being such a fool, but I can’t stop.
There was always that moment in their love-making when he seemed to want more from her, and had to struggle against himself, as if he was afraid he would hurt her in some way. Once the moment was over, he was his tender and loving self again, but the struggle seemed harder each time. It alarmed her and excited her in a way that made her feel she’d truly fallen from grace. Did this happen to all men? She had no comparison and there was ho one she could ask.
Worst of all was the guilt she felt about Madeleine. However badly Maddy had behaved sometimes, Charlotte still felt protective towards her. Maddy came first, she must always have what she desired; it was her natural due for being the prettiest, the youngest—and compensation, perhaps, for not being her father’s favourite. The fact that Karl felt nothing for her was irrelevant; Charlotte could not shake off the feeling that she had stolen him from her sister.
Is this what’s making her ill? Guilt racked her, but she could do nothing to help—except to give up Karl. Impossible.
Poor Maddy, to feel about him as I do… b
ut does she? How could she? She has never strayed into that dark country… She would have held out for courtship, a wedding ring. And what does that make me, to risk everything for nothing?
If he loves me we should marry… all my life that’s what they’ve told us, that marriage is the only way and anything else is a sin. But I don’t know, I don’t care… Seduction. This is what it means; to be drawn into something wicked, not because it seems evil, but because you’re deceived into believing it’s right.
I’m drowning. I feel as if I’m the first person this has ever happened to but I’m not. It’s been the same cry down the ages. How can something so beautiful be if rang? The cry that precedes ruin…
Just a few more days before they went back to Cambridge. The other visitors had left, and now Elizabeth’s only guests were David and Anne, Charlotte, Madeleine, their father and Karl. A pleasant family gathering… except for the atmosphere that was slowly thickening like winter around them. Perhaps it only existed in Charlotte’s mind, but it seemed Madeleine’s illness and her own secrets were darkening everything.
It can’t go on but I can’t bear it to end…
Outside, the wind was lashing the leaves from the trees and scattering them across the rain-soaked grass. All the lovely soft autumn foliage under which she had walked with Karl, tattered rags.
The library door opened and she was shaken out of her thoughts by her aunt’s wineglass-clear voice. “Charlotte, dear, will you come into the Blue room? You have a visitor.”
Charlotte felt no suspicion at first. Contrary to her threats, her aunt had said nothing more about her walk with Karl. “Oh, who is it?”
“I’m surprised you even ask.” Elizabeth’s manner was brisk. “I did warn you that I had to do something about your behaviour before you completely ruin your life and give your father heart failure.”
Then the foreboding began. How foolish to imagine her aunt would let the matter rest.
Henry was waiting for her in the Blue room, with a serious expression she had never seen before. Charlotte was startled and dismayed. Her father was with him and they looked like lawyers about to announce the death of a distant relative.
Her lips parted, and after a moment she managed to say, “Hello, Henry, I—I wasn’t expecting you.”
Henry was such an awkward, lumpen figure compared to Karl. He seemed a total stranger. That she had ever agreed to marry him was incredible. “Lady Reynolds sent for me. I think there are one or two things we ought to clear up.” He stammered a little, but the passion in his voice took her completely by surprise. “She said there had been—um, certain rumours about you and Karl, and while I’m sure they’re completely unfounded, I won’t tolerate such things being said about my fiancée. If you had come to my parents this would never have happened, and it’s too bad of you not to have done. My mother agrees; so far you’ve put absolutely no effort into this engagement whatsoever, and every time I try to pin you down to a date, you make excuses to put it off. Well, enough is enough; we are going to sit down and discuss this and I am not going away until we’ve sorted the whole thing out and set a day for the wedding!”
Shocked, Charlotte glanced round and found her aunt looking squarely at her with raised eyebrows, as if to say, “Don’t appeal to me, this is exactly what you deserve!”
I’m trapped, thought Charlotte; then, No. Why should I be?
The feeling of panic fell away and she felt sorry for Henry. Behind his crooked wire glasses was a look she had never noticed before, but which she now recognised, and she thought, Oh God, he’s in love with me! He’s probably felt this for years and I never even knew. And I’m going to hurt him. Trembling, she said, “It’s no good, Henry, I can’t go through with it.”
He blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“I can’t marry you! I’m sorry.” She took a step forward and held out the ring; he took it and stood staring at the diamond glitter in the palm of his hand.
“I don’t understand, Charlotte. Why? What have I done wrong?”
This was Henry’s trouble; he thought life went in a straight line, he never looked to left or right. So hard to divert that one-track intelligence; it was like being cruel to an uncomprehending dog.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s my fault. I—I don’t love you, and I should never have said yes in the first place.”
“Are you seeing someone else?” he said wildly. “It’s Karl, isn’t it? I don’t believe it, how could you be so deceitful?”
His words cut her, but she could not defend herself. She wished the floor would swallow her.
Henry looked helplessly at her, then at her father. “I see.” He thrust the ring into his pocket, and his face was rigid. “Well in that case, er… I think, sir, it would be best in the circumstances if I left your employment and found a position elsewhere.” Her father’s face fell. “What?”
“Miss Neville and I could hardly go on working together without deep embarrassment on both sides, therefore it would be best for everyone if I left.”
“No!” Charlotte exclaimed. “There’s no need for that, it will be just like it was before.”
“No, it won’t, Charlotte,” said Henry, with a harshness she would not have thought possible. “Do you think I could stay there, knowing you look on me with such contempt?”
“I don’t—” she gasped, but he was still speaking.
“No, my mind is made up.” He turned to her father. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, stepping away with a selfconscious, dipping motion. “Sorry.”
As he went out awkwardly, closing the door with a quiet click behind him, Charlotte’s father turned on her. “Do you see what you’ve done? Is this what you wanted to achieve with your selfishness? I can’t think what’s got into you, young lady.”
She had broken the magic circle. Unforgivable. His anger crumbled her like liquid air. Tears sprang to her eyes. “But you can’t really have wanted me to marry someone I didn’t love? You were against it to start with.”
“Love be damned! You’ve just lost me the best assistant I’ve ever had!”
Before she could start to apologise, Elizabeth said, “Don’t blame Charlotte, it was you who employed Karl in the first place.”
Neville was outraged. “Don’t be ridiculous! To suggest Charlotte had some nefarious motive for walking round the garden with Karl is deplorable. D’you think I don’t know my own daughter?”
“Really, George, if you’d take off your blinkers for five minutes you might notice that she is a grown woman and he is a man. These things do happen, even to Charlotte, unlikely as it may seem.”
Charlotte felt herself colouring. She knew her aunt’s game. Elizabeth didn’t want to believe that Karl could be genuinely attracted to her, but she did want to punish her.
“Nonsense! If anything untoward had taken place, I would hold you to blame, Elizabeth. You are supposed to be chaperoning my daughters.”
“Oh, you are so old-fashioned,” said his sister, folding her arms. “I can’t watch them every minute of the day. You’ve kept Charlotte so cloistered, how is she supposed to defend herself from a wolf if she meets one? These Continentals make a pass at anything that moves.”
“That’s a dreadful thing to say, and it’s not true!” Charlotte cried. “Karl’s a perfect gentleman, one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and I won’t hear such things said about him!”
She broke off. They were both staring at her, judge and jury, as if she had condemned herself out of her own mouth.
Her father was grave, formidable, his rage filling the room like heavy white heat. “Don’t you think you owe rather more respect to Henry and me than to him? If I ever find there’s an iota of truth in this—What would your mother have said?”
Always the comparison with her perfect mother that needled straight through her heart. She hung her head, and then she felt his hand on her arm. “I’ve decided to go back to Cambridge tomorrow,” he said portentously. “I trust you’ll be coming with
me.”
***
Later, as they all sat in the main drawing room after dinner, Charlotte looked around at them; her father straight-faced and quiet, Elizabeth smug, David and Anne their unaffected cheerful selves. They veiled their feelings in the English way and went on as if nothing had happened, making small talk as the butler and maid served coffee. No one said anything to anyone… Yet the atmosphere was fragile. They all knew Charlotte was in disgrace. Henry had gone back to Cambridge and tomorrow her father would take her home like a child expelled from school.
And what of Karl? Would her father turn against him, send him away? And all this for a walk! she thought. Ye gods, if they knew the truth, the sky itself would fall. The thought of never seeing Karl again was terrifying.
Karl had been out all day, and now they were all together there was no chance for them to speak privately. It seemed nothing had been said to him. Charlotte was the scapegoat; he was still the angelic guest, incapable of wrong. He had stayed in the dining room with David and Father while they had their port and cigars; they, all unconscious of his true relationship with Charlotte. Now he sat with Madeleine on the sofa, held there as she asked him question after question about Vienna, responding charmingly while his untouched coffee turned cold.
Maddy was trying very hard to put on a brave face, but she hadn’t been herself since the night she had fallen ill. She seemed tired and vulnerable, restless if Karl was not there, bright and frail as a candle flame in his company. Sometimes her eyes would glaze as if she were lost in a frightening daydream. She was still determined to win Karl, perhaps convinced she would, but growing more desperate as his friendliness remained impersonal. Only when he met Charlotte’s gaze did his eyes fill with warmth, the secret communication that left her in no doubt of his passion for her.
At the same time it was agony to see her sister suffering.
Charlotte could see no way to talk to Karl alone, without it being obvious. But even if she could, what good would it do? While they had been friends she had talked to him easily; now they were lovers, too much went unspoken… Anne glanced at her once or twice, and she thought, Oh, Anne, I know you want to help and I would do anything to tell you the truth but even you, even you would condemn me…
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