Lament for a Lost Lover Page 14

  “Are you not a Royalist fanatic?”

  “Bless your innocence, no! I support the King because the King’s party will give me back what I have lost. It’s true I believe that this killjoy rule can never profit a country and it’s damned uncomfortable for the individuals. But you must not endow me with virtues I do not possess.”

  “I don’t think I have endowed you with any virtues that I can think of.”

  He laughed. “So I guessed. And in that you show wisdom, for I possess so few that they are completely submerged by my sins.”

  “At least you are honest about yourself.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Only when it suits me. I tell you, dear cousin … I may call you that behind the protection of locked doors … that I am a wicked man. My wife prefers others and for good reason. We have one taste in common, and although we cannot share our pleasure, we understand the other’s need to pursue it. I am talking too bluntly. Forgive me. I was afraid you might form too good an opinion of me.”

  “As I have told you, you need have no anxieties on that point.”

  “I am relieved. I come of a lusty family, and since you are now a member of that family, you should have no illusion about it. Women have been the downfall of many of my ancestors. They have an irresistible fascination for us. My great-grandfather kept three mistresses all within a few miles of each other and not one of them knew of the existence of the others. It was quite a feat because there has always been a great deal of gossip about the family. There is … in such a place. We are the leading family, and our exploits used to be watched with interest. Great-grandfather was insatiable. No village girl was safe.”

  “How interesting,” I said mildly, determined not to show that I was disturbed, because I felt he was leading to something.

  “Now and then,” he went on, “we throw up a paragon. My uncle—Edwin’s father, who is now in Cologne with the King—is of a different calibre. Devoted to duty and faithful to his wife. Something of a phenomenon in the Eversleigh family.”

  “I am glad of that.”

  “I thought you would be, and I am glad to have an opportunity to talk to you. I daresay you will be leaving soon. It may well be within three or four days. We shall bring back Tom, who will then be thought to have the money from Chester, and then you’ll ride away and we’ll arrange to get you across to France again … your little adventure over. I admire your courage in coming and your devotion to your husband.”

  “It was Harriet who thought of it.”

  He smiled slowly and nodded. “Oh, yes. I guessed that.”

  Then he looked at me, and I could scarcely believe it but there was a hint of gentleness in his eyes. But I immediately told myself I must have imagined that.

  I stood up, and this time he did not attempt to detain me.

  I went to my room, for neither Edwin nor Harriet were in, and I thought for a long time about that encounter. I was sure it meant something, but I was far from sure what.

  Chastity was becoming very fond of me. She followed me round and before I realized it we were playing games together. Poor little Chastity had never known what it meant to laugh and be merry before. I couldn’t help it. I would take her some way from the house and play games with her. Alas, once we came too near the stables and Jasper heard our laughter. He came out, snatched up Chastity and carried her into the house, pausing only to dart a look of black suspicion at me.

  When I next saw Ellen she told me that Jasper was very displeased. I replied that surely there was nothing sinful in a little childish high spirits.

  “You should have been teaching her the word of God not to be making a mockery of godliness.”

  “I did nothing of the sort,” I protested. “It was a simple game of hide-and-seek. She was enjoying herself for once and …”

  “Jasper says we were not put on this earth to enjoy ourselves, mistress. Jasper says he don’t know what sort of place you come from, but he reckons Chester must be a wicked place for you to carry on as you do.”

  I thought of poor little Chastity, who was no doubt being punished for enjoying a brief period of innocent pleasure, and I forgot caution in my anger.

  “Oh, yes,” I cried, “it’s Sodom and Gomorrah all over again.”

  She stared at me, her hands lifted above the bowl dripping flour into it.

  I flounced out of the room. I wondered what Jasper would make of that.

  The next day Chastity came up to my room. I was there alone, mending one of my petticoats which I had caught on a bramble bush the day before.

  Chastity crept in furtively. She was a bright-eyed, pretty little creature, and there was the faintest touch of defiance in her eyes, and I imagined she had been told to keep away from me. She had learned that there was something else in life besides prayers that went on for so much of the day, and sewing garments that must not be pretty since beauty was sin, and learning the Scriptures off by heart and being shut in her room to commune with God on her sins.

  For a brief while she had laughed and played games that did not have to improve the mind; she had acted just for the joy of being alive. And she had a will of her own.

  “Chastity,” I whispered, and I couldn’t help sounding conspiratorial.

  “Mistress Bella!” she cried and ran to me, burying her face in my lap and then looking up to smile—I must admit rather mischievously—at me.

  “You’re not supposed to be here, you know,” I said.

  She nodded laughing.

  “I suppose I should tell you to go.”

  “You should take me down to my mother and tell her that I have been wicked,” she said soberly. “But you won’t, will you?” She looked at the closed door. “Nobody knows,” she went on. “If anyone comes I’ll hide.” She ran to the cupboard, opened it and stood inside. Then she came out flushed with laughing.

  She looked so pretty and so different from the poor little suppressed child I had seen when I arrived that I wanted to snap my fingers at the Puritans and let her be happy.

  She came over to me and looked at the petticoat in my hand. It was a little too elaborate for a Puritan woman. It occurred to me then that we had not really been thorough enough. Of course we hadn’t. Harriet and I had not been part of the plan. We had broken into it, disrupting it.

  “Tell me a story,” said Chastity. It was forbidden, of course, unless it was a homily on the wages of sin but I told her a story I had heard recently in France about a girl who had been forced by her stepmother to slave in the kitchens and whose fairy godmother had appeared and transformed her by conjuring up a ball dress so that she could go to the ball and meet the Prince who fell in love with her. Chastity was entranced and I couldn’t help feeling gratified to see how much she enjoyed it. I thought: I’ll be gone soon. What harm can it do for her to have a little pleasure?

  While I was talking she was examining the petticoat I was mending, and putting her hand into the pocket, she brought out a shining button.

  “Oh … pretty!” she cried.

  She held it in the palm of her hand, her face transfixed with joy just to contemplate it.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s a button. I remember the dress it was on. It was blue velvet and there were ten buttons like this. One of them must have come off. Yes, I remember now when I last wore it. I meant to sew it on and put it in the pocket of my petticoat and clearly forgot it.”

  Her fingers closed about it lovingly. She looked at me appealingly. What could I do? How foolish it was I realized later, but at the moment it seemed so trivial.

  “Please … please, Mistress Bella, may I have it?”

  How could I say no? What was it? Only a button. Poor Chastity, she was starved of pretty things.

  I did say: “Your mother and father would perhaps not want you to have something so pretty.”

  She hunched her shoulders and looked at my slyly. I didn’t say anymore. I knew that she would be wise enough to keep it out of their sight.

 
; I didn’t see Chastity the next day. Ellen said she was in her room.

  “Not sick, I hope,” I said.

  Ellen nodded gravely.

  “Perhaps I could go and see her?”

  “Indeed not,” said Ellen fiercely.

  Even then I was not suspicious.

  I went out into the gardens to do my stint of weeding, and as I bent over the earth I was aware that a man was watching me.

  I looked up sharply, uneasy as one always is when one feels one has been watched while unaware of it.

  “Good day to you, friend,” said the man.

  I replied with the customary: “And good day to you, friend.”

  “I have travelled far and am in need of a bit to eat and a place to rest. Do you think I’ll get it at the house there?”

  “I am sure you will. People in need are never turned away.”

  “Can you be sure of it, mistress?”

  “I can indeed.”

  I straightened up and surveyed him—black coat, broad-brimmed hat, cropped hair, the usual aspect of the Puritan. Indeed where did one see any other?

  I went on: “I, with my husband and sister, have been given hospitality under that roof, so I can speak with knowledge.”

  “Ah,” said the man, “you are not of the house, then?”

  “No, but resting there while our servant brings us the means to continue our journey. It is for that reason that I cannot offer you hospitality myself but can assure you that it will not be denied you.”

  “Ah, tell me about the house. They are good Christian people?”

  “As good Christians as you can find, I doubt not,” I said.

  “I am a proud man, I would not be turned away, mistress.”

  “Have no fear. If you are a good Puritan you will be given what you need.”

  “Oh, but we are all good Puritans now, mistress.” He was looking at me oddly. “Needs must, eh?”

  “’Tis so,” I said, not meeting his eyes.

  “And you have come from afar?”

  “From Chester.”

  “A long journey.”

  “Yes. Our money was stolen at an inn. We have thrown ourselves upon the kindness of these good people and we await the return of our servant with the means which will enable us to continue our journey.”

  “There are evil men about, mistress. One would have thought that with so much piety abroad we should not have to look to our purses.”

  “No, indeed.”

  “I was once in Chester,” he went on. “Oh, many years … I knew it well.”

  I hoped I didn’t show my uneasiness.

  “A beautiful city, eh, friend? But cities are not meant to be beautiful. Where there is beauty there is corruption … so they tell us. And you travelled down from Chester, did you? A long journey. I once lived in Liverpool. Now you would have passed through it on your way.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said quickly. “Let me take you to the house.”

  “Thank you, friend. I watched you at work. If you will allow me to say so, you did not seem as though you were experienced at it.”

  “No. I have done it only since I came here. It is fitting, of course, that we should all have our tasks …”

  “Fitting, indeed.” He came a little closer to me. “Perhaps the day will come when we have time for other matters, eh?”

  My heart was beating fast. I was sure that he was not what he seemed. I believed he wanted to get to the house to talk to Carleton and Edwin. He was one of their friends.

  “It may be,” I said.

  Slowly he closed one eye. It was meant to be a gesture of complicity. I started to walk towards the house.

  Ellen was in the kitchen when we reached it. I said: “Here is a friend who seeks shelter.”

  “Come in,” said Ellen. “That was never denied in this house.”

  I went to the room I shared with Edwin, feeling a little uneasy. I wanted to find my husband to tell him what had happened, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  I couldn’t find Harriet either. I supposed she was out gathering plants again. She had said she had to go far afield for them, and she was going to explain to Ellen how to use them when they were ready and to tell her what ills they would cure.

  “I hope you won’t poison them all,” I had said, and she retorted that they were all so virtuous that they should welcome a quick trip to Heaven.

  Whilst I was pondering what to do, Carleton came into the room. He did not knock, he just walked in. I started up angrily but he silenced me immediately.

  “Make your way to the library as soon as you can. Wait there until I come. Where are Edwin … and Harriet?”

  I told him I did not know. He nodded and said: “Get down soon.”

  I knew that something was terribly wrong, and naturally I connected it with the man I had brought to the house.

  I went down to the library. Carleton was soon there. He locked the door and opened the secret panel behind the books and we stepped into the storeroom.

  “Trouble,” he said. “Trouble and you are to blame.”

  “I!”

  “You’re a fool,” he snapped. “Don’t you realize the seriousness of our position? Clearly, you don’t. You were the first to arouse suspicion. What a fool Edwin was to bring you.”

  “I don’t understand …”

  “Of course you won’t understand. That’s obvious. You gave the button to the child. Don’t you know yet that no Puritan, whether she came from Chester or London or anywhere in Cromwell’s land, would wear such a button, would have such a button, and to give it to a child …”

  “I thought …”

  “You never think. You are empty-headed. How could Edwin have been such a fool as to let you come? There is a man in the house. He has come to investigate. Jasper sent for him because he suspects you all. By the mercy of God he does not suspect me. I have played my part well all these years, and you come here and in a few days we are in acute danger. This man has come here to watch you, Edwin and Harriet. You are under suspicion … and our work not completed. You’ll have to go as soon as we can arrange it.”

  “Oh, Carleton, I’m sorry …”

  “Sorry. It’s too late to be sorry. A little good sense would have done us more good than sorrow. You must get out as soon as I can arrange it. The moment Edwin and Harriet return, you will have to leave. I don’t know how much has been discovered yet. Apparently you said you had come through Liverpool which is north of Chester. They suspect you never came from Chester at all and they are beginning to see what happened. They suspect you are spies from France. The button betrayed you. In France they would wear such buttons, it seems. Well, there’s no good to be served by telling you what a fool you are and how much better it would have been for us all if you had had the good sense to stay in France. Go to your room. Lock the door. Open to none but me, and if Edwin should return and you see him, make him lock himself in the room while you find me, but I shall be on the watch.”

  It was an hour or so later. I was waiting in my room for Harriet or Edwin to return. I was frantic with anxiety. I was afraid they would catch Edwin as he came back to the house.

  Then Carleton burst into my room. His eyes were wild and I had never imagined he could be so distraught. Harriet was with him. Her cloak was bloodstained.

  “What’s happened?” I cried.

  Carleton said: “Get out of your things—change at once. Into your riding habits. Be prepared. I have to get you out of here quickly.”

  He went out and I cried: “Harriet, what does it mean? … Where is Edwin?”

  She looked at me steadily. Her eyes were burning blue lights in her pale, pale face, and I saw that there was blood on her hair.

  “It was terrible,” she said. “Terrible.”

  “What? For God’s sake tell me.”

  “Edwin,” she began, … “in the arbour. He was trying to save me. You know the arbour … on the edge of the gardens … that tumbled-down old place …”

  “Wha
t about it? Tell me, Harriet, for Heaven’s sake, tell me.”

  “I was near there with my basket of plants and I saw Edwin. I called to him and just then I saw a man with a gun …”

  “Oh, no … no …”

  She nodded. “He shouted something and Edwin tried to protect me. … He pushed me into the arbour, and stood in front of me. Then he was shot … The blood was terrible …”

  “You … you’ve left him …”

  I was ready to run from the room but she caught me.

  “Don’t go. Carleton said we must stay here. We must wait. He said I must keep you here. There’s nothing you can do. He’s gone to him. They’ll bring him in …”

  “Edwin … shot … dying … Of course I must be with him. …”

  She clung to me. “No. No. They will kill both of us … as they’ve killed him. You can do no good. You must obey Carleton.”

  I stared at her. I could not believe it. But I knew it was true.

  They brought him into the house. They had made a rough stretcher. I could not believe that was Edwin—my merry Edwin—lying there. Alive one moment, laughing at life, and then suddenly he was there no more.

  Harriet was with me. She had taken off her cape and washed the bloodstains from her hair.

  I kept moaning: “I must go to him.”

  But she wouldn’t let me. There had been trouble enough. We must not make it worse.

  I knew she was right, but it was cruel to keep me from him.

  Carleton came in.

  He looked at us steadily. “Are you prepared?” he asked.

  It was Harriet who answered, “Yes.”

  “Ready. We’re going down to the library at once.”

  We followed him down and there he locked the door and opened the bookshelves.

  “You will stay here until tonight when I hope to get you away. I’ve sent word to Tom. He’ll be waiting for you in the cave. The boat is there. You’ll wait for the tide and pray for a smooth sea.” He looked at me. “Edwin is dead,” he said expressionlessly. “He was shot in the arbour. He died immediately and would have known little of what happened. There was no pain. Now this operation is over. I shall leave our findings with Tom and he can take them back.”