Song of the Siren

by Philippa Carr

  I found the throbbing point and put a pad of cloth over it; then I tied a strip of bandage over it leaving a half-knot in which I placed the back scratcher before tying it firmly. Then I carefully turned the wood, tightened the bandage as I had seen Leigh do. It was not long before the profuse bleeding had stopped.

  I sat by the bed and anxiously watched the General. The men were looking at the wounded man. I could see that he was badly injured and wondered how he had affected his escape from the Tower.

  It seemed a long time before the doctor came. He was obviously nervous and I guessed that he was a Jacobite and would not have been brought to the house otherwise.

  I explained to him what I had done. He said: “Good. Good,” and I felt an immense lifting of my spirits.

  “He has lost a lot of blood,” he said. “A little more could have been fatal. This action may well have saved his life.”

  I was overwhelmed with joy. Hessenfield was looking at me with a sort of proprietary pride which amused me and I must say gave me a certain exhilaration.

  I was walked out of the room by the man called Durrell and put in the next one. He stood guarding me. I knew that he would have despatched me on the spot if he had had his way.

  He was not young; he must have been about fifty. There was fanaticism in his face; I guessed he was a man who would take up a cause and give everything to it. He was different from Hessenfield, to whom I was sure life was intended to be enjoyed however serious the undertaking. Hessenfield must be at least twenty years younger than this man. I guessed him to be about thirty, though, like Beau, he appeared to be younger. I wished I could stop comparing him with Beau.

  I heard the doctor leave. Hessenfield came into the room. He was smiling. “He’ll be all right,” he said. “He couldn’t have afforded to lose much more blood. You see, Durrell, our lady is proving a useful member of the party. Perhaps she will prove to be more useful. Who knows? There is usually some good to be found in feminine society.”

  Durrell went close to him and whispered: “Do you realise someone has to guard her all the time?”

  “I shall make that my special pleasure.”

  “All the time … have you thought what that means?”

  “All the time will be only a day or so.”

  “It might be a week.”

  “No! Three days at most.”

  “Weather permitting,” said Durrell.

  I guessed then that they were here to wait for a ship to take them to France.

  I was beginning to piece the story together.

  The two men went out and one of the younger ones, named James, was sent to guard me. James was very young, about eighteen, I supposed, an earnest boy who I was sure was longing to die for his cause.

  I was getting to know them all. Hessenfield, Durrell, James, Shaw and Carstairs. James was the son of Carstairs. They were of the nobility, I believed, and at one time had been at court. Hessenfield was clearly the leader—which was fortunate for me, for there was no doubt that had it been left to Durrell I should have been dead by now. Durrell believed that I was an encumbrance and I could quite see his point. At least I had been useful in attending to the General, and the General’s life was of the utmost importance to them otherwise why should they all have risked their own to save it?

  It was like living in a dream. In fact, I kept thinking that I was going to wake up and find it really was one. It was so fantastic to find myself in a mysterious house which looked as though it had been inhabited a few minutes before we arrived and then was miraculously empty. In the kitchens, I was to discover, were hams and joints of beef and mutton. There were pies in the larder—ample food to feed a party of men for at least a week. It was clear that we had been expected. And here was I in the heart of this fantastic adventure with a sword of Damocles hanging over my head, for I was here on sufferance. One false step and that would be the end of me. I was being allowed to live because of some purpose the man called Hessenfield had in store for me. I had stumbled on a dangerous plot and become part of it.

  I did not need an explanation of what was happening. It was obvious. They were Jacobites; General Langdon had tried to raise an army to fight for James; he had been discovered, imprisoned and would have been condemned to death. Then a band of bold conspirators, headed by Hessenfield, had rescued him from the Tower and they were trying to get him out of the country. That was why they were in this house waiting for the ship which would take them across to France where they would join King James at St. Germain-en-Laye.

  For me to have discovered so much without being told explained how very vulnerable they all were. If I escaped and gave the alarm before they were able to get out of the country it would be the hangman’s noose or the executioner’s block for the lot of them.

  So it was not surprising that it should be deemed wise to despatch me on the spot, bury my body somewhere and let my disappearance remain the mystery which Beau’s death was. That set me wondering if something like this had happened to Beau.

  Darkness fell.

  We went down to eat in the great kitchen. The doors were bolted and barred and no one could have got in easily.

  I sat at the table with them and there was little conversation. I made that impossible. Durrell was afraid to say too much in front of me. My impression grew that he would kill me if he had a chance.

  They ate heartily, which was more than I did. They drank openly to the true King. No secret drinking to the King Across the Water here.

  Hessenfield said: “We shall retire early. It may be that our deliverers will be here by morning.”

  “I pray God we will be gone by this time tomorrow,” said Durrell.

  “Aye, I hope He will hear your prayers,” said Hessenfield.

  Durrell was looking at me.

  “You may leave her to me,” said Hessenfield; and I saw the rather sour smile on Durrell’s lips.

  Hessenfield had me by the arm.

  I said: “I will stay here. I will give you my word …”

  “That you will not try to get away?” said Hessenfield. “I’d feel safer with you in my care.”

  Again that smirk.

  He nodded to everyone, and still holding my arm he took me from the room.

  We went to that one which he had chosen for himself. It was a very fine bedchamber with a four-poster bed draped with green velvet curtains.

  He locked the door and turned to face me.

  “Here we are at last,” he said. “I am sorry, Mistress Main, that you must remain our prisoner but we must make the best of it, do you agree?”

  “It is always wise to make the best of everything,” I muttered.

  “And you are wise. I see that … almost always wise. But perhaps not so wise as usual when you pried into matters which did not concern you this morning.”

  “I did not intend to pry. Let me tell you that I am not interested in your plots and counterplots.”

  “Well, interested or not, you have become part of this one.”

  He removed his coat and started to unbutton his waistcoat.

  “I think,” he said, “you will find this bed more comfortable than the one you had last night. A wretched affair, was it not? I was so sorry that you were forced to use that. I’ll warrant you slept little.”

  I went to him and laid a hand on his arm. “Let me go,” I said. “What do you think will happen? Do you think my family will stand aside and allow me to be kidnapped in this way?”

  “My dear Carlotta. May I call you that? Mistress Main does not suit you in the least. Carlotta, my dear. They are not going to find you. You left the inn with your horse early in the morning as was arranged; you went to join your grooms a mile up the road. It was early morning. There was no one about. Lying in wait for you was some footpad. He stole your possessions. Being you, you put up a fight, in which you were killed. He buried your body in a wood or threw it in a stream or something such. A far more plausible explanation than that you fell in with a band of desperate men, one
of whom is so gallant that he is going to let you live awhile … if you deserve to.”

  “It pleases you to joke about this matter.”

  “It pleases me because I am so happy to be here with you.”

  He took hold of me then and held me powerless in his arms.

  “Presumably,” I said, “you are displaying your superior strength.”

  “Rather unnecessary, is it not? One should never stress the obvious. I find you most desirable.”

  “I am sorry I cannot return the compliment.”

  “You will change your mind.”

  “So you saved my life … for this.”

  “A worthy cause,” he said.

  “You are … wicked.”

  “I know. But you are not so very virtuous yourself, are you, Carlotta?”

  “I don’t think you know anything about me.”

  “You’d be surprised how much I do know.”

  “You know my family. That should be enough to tell you they will not stand aside and allow me to be treated like this.”

  “I could take you very easily, you know … now … this moment. You are looking round for means of escape. You could scream. Who would care? In fact that might bring Durrell with his sword. You are trapped, sweet Carlotta. At the mercy of your ravisher. There is nothing to be done in such circumstances but to submit. It saves a great deal of trouble.”

  I wrenched myself away from him and ran to the door. I pummelled on it with my fists.

  “Now that,” he said, “is an action scarcely worthy of you. Who in this house is coming to your rescue? Save your energies for more worthy purposes.”

  He had taken me by the shoulders and led me back into the room.

  “You are irresistible and we shall be lovers this night,” he said. “It is what I wanted from the moment I saw you. You are such an attractive creature, Carlotta. You invite. You promise. You are meant for love … our sort of love.”

  “Love,” I cried. “I should think that is a subject you know nothing about. You mean lust, do you not? I am at your mercy. You are intent on rape—a very gentlemanly activity, I believe, and I have no doubt you are well versed in it. It is easy, is it not, to seek out helpless women who are unable to fight against you. Oh, very gallant. I despise you … Field … Hessenfield, whatever your name is. You haven’t even the courage to own up to that and have to masquerade under a false name. Let me tell you this, if ever I get out of this place I shall not forget you.”

  “I hope not,” he said. “I intend to make you remember me for the rest of your life.”

  “With a shudder … with loathing … Yes, you are probably right. That is how I shall remember you.”

  “No,” he said, “perhaps otherwise.”

  His arm was about my shoulder and there was a curious gentleness in his touch. He forced me onto the stool and knelt at my feet and taking my hands in his smiled up at me. His eyes were shining. I noticed that they were golden coloured. Again he reminded me of Beau. He had looked like that before we made love.

  He kissed my hands just as Beau used to and he said: “Carlotta, you have been very unhappy. I am going to change that.”

  I tried to snatch my hands away. “You know nothing about me,” I cried.

  “I know a great deal,” he answered. “I knew Beaumont Granville … well.”

  I closed my eyes. There was something unreal about this scene. If he had taken me by force, roughly, crudely, it would have seemed the natural outcome and in any case I had been expecting it. But this talk about Beau was unnerving.

  “He was a friend of my father,” he said. “He often came to our house. He took a fancy to me. He used to talk a great deal to me.”

  “Did he talk of me?”

  “He talked of all his women.”

  “All his women!”

  “They were legion. There had been women in his life since he was fourteen. He was very frank with me. He said he would undertake my education. What aspect of that education I don’t need to explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “My dear, it is for me to say what shall and shall not be. I know you still think of him, don’t you? How long is it since he disappeared? Three years. Four years. What happened to him do you think?”

  “Perhaps he was killed as you intend to kill me.”

  He was thoughtful. “He had many enemies. A man like Beaumont Granville would. It is generally thought that he went abroad … in search of higher game. It was not unusual for him to disappear for periods at a time. Usually creditors or having involved himself in some affair that was giving him trouble was the cause.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because you must get him out of your mind. You have set up a great memorial to him. He is not worth it, Carlotta.”

  “Another quality I have discovered in you. Such loyalty to your friends.”

  “Yes, he was a friend in a way but you mean more to me.”

  I laughed. “This time yesterday I saw you for the first time. I wish to God I never had.”

  “I do not think that is exactly true.” He laid a hand on my wrist. “I can feel your heart beating fast, Carlotta. Oh, it is going to be wonderful between us. I know it. But I want you to stop comparing me with Beaumont Granville.”

  “I did nothing of the sort …”

  “You should keep to the truth, Carlotta. The truth is so much more interesting than lies.”

  “Oh, let me out of here. I promise I will not say a word of what I have seen. Give me a horse. Let me go. I will find my way to Eyot Abbass. I will say I lost my way. I will make up some plausible tale. I promise you, you and your band shall not be the worse for anything I shall say.”

  “Too late,” he said. “You are here, Carlotta, in the trap. A most delightful trap, I promise you.”

  “With death at the end …?” I asked.

  “It will depend on you. You will entertain me and each night I shall look forward to more shared joys. Have you heard of Scheherazade? She told stories and for her skill was allowed to live through another day. You are a Scheherazade of sorts, Carlotta, and I am your sultan.”

  I put my hands over my face. I did not want him to see my expression. His talk of Beau had brought back so many memories of the room in Enderby Hall. This room was not unlike it. He reminded me more and more of Beau. I was afraid of myself. I felt that if this man touched me I should not be able to fight off the fantasy. I should let myself slip into the dream.

  “Stop regretting Beaumont Granville,” he was saying. “You would have been wretched with him. Your people were right to try to stop the marriage. Beaumont could never be faithful to one woman for more than a week. He was completely cynical about them. He talked of them to me … to others too, I don’t doubt. He talked of you, Carlotta.”

  I repeated blankly: “He talked of me!”

  “He was going to marry you because of your fortune. Solely because of your fortune, Carlotta. He wasn’t in the least reluctant, though. A nice fortune and a loving little wife. He told me how it was with you. He described those times you spent together in Enderby Hall, wasn’t it? He talked about women like that. He used to talk about Naturals. They were born for it, he said. Lovely passionate creatures. They are as eager as you are. Carlotta, he said, is like that. He was glad, he said. One grew tired of the shrinking kind who had no heart in the romp.”

  “Be silent,” I cried. “How can you? I hate you. I hate you. If I could I would …”

  “I know. If you had a sword here you’d run it through me as Durrell would have run it through you this morning. You owe me your life, Carlotta.”

  I could not explain my feelings. There was shame there, shame for what Beau had said of me. I never wanted to see that room at Enderby again. My mother had done everything she could to stop me and she had been right. I could not bear to think of him—discussing me and my emotions and my reactions to this … disciple of his.

  His fingers were on my coat.
“Come, dear Carlotta,” he said. “Forget him. He is past. Perhaps he lies mouldering in some grave. Perhaps he is at this moment lying with someone who can give him more than you could. Forget him. I know you and love you already. You are no stranger to me, Carlotta.”

  He had taken off my coat. He was undressing me with unexpectedly tender hands.

  I wrenched myself free suddenly. I looked about the room. He took my face in his hands and said: “Caught. Trapped, like a little bird in a net. Sweet Carlotta, life is fleeting. Who knows, perhaps this very night men will come to this place and take me. Perhaps in a week, a month, my head and shoulders will have parted. Life is short. It has always been my motto. Enjoy it while we can. That should be yours, too. Who shall say what tomorrow shall bring to either of us? But there is tonight.”

  Then he picked me up and carried me to the bed.

  He laid me there and I closed my eyes.

  Resistance was useless. I was completely in his power. I knew the sort of man he was. Beau’s sort. He was moving about the room. Then he blew out the candle and was beside me.

  I wanted to cry out in protest. But cries, as he had pointed out, were useless. I was in his power.

  I heard him laugh in the darkness. I think he knew me better than I knew myself.

  It is difficult to understand myself. I suppose I should have felt degraded and humiliated; and in a way I did, and yet … It is hard to explain except to say that I am a woman who was meant to experience physical passion and I was beginning to understand that it was not so much Beau himself that I had missed as the opportunity to match my physical needs with one with whom I was in complete bodily harmony. This was how it was with Hessenfield. We were as one flesh; I forgot the reason for my being where I was and although I brought out all my pride—and that was considerable in ordinary circumstances—I could not hide the fact that I found pleasure in this encounter.

  Hessenfield knew it; he exulted in it, and he was by no means a rough or uncouth lover as might have been expected in the circumstances. He behaved as though his great desire was to please me and he made no secret of his delight in me.