Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England 05]

by Lament for a Lost Lover

  She made it clear that she found young Edwin immensely superior to any other child.

  “The news is excellent,” she said. “Very soon, dear Arabella, we shall be in England. Lord Eversleigh tells me that General Monck has been in touch with the King’s most loyal supporters and that negotiations are already going ahead. What a happy day that will be when we may return to our country and build up our homes again. You and I will carry our great sorrow with us. But when we go, you will come to Eversleigh Court. We must try to subdue our sorrow, for we have our little Edwin now. We shall make such plans for his future. He will be my life from now on.”

  I had not thought of going to Eversleigh Court, but I could see that it would be expected of me.

  I said: “What of Carleton Eversleigh? He must have looked upon himself as the heir when Edwin died.”

  “So he was … until our little one came. Carleton will be delighted. He was wonderful to Edwin when he was a boy. He used to alarm me a little. He was so rough with him, but my husband said it was good for the boy. Dear Edwin had rather a gentle nature. Though he was full of fun, he was not like Carleton. Carleton forced him to fence and box and ride. He tried to make him like himself.” She shook her head. “Darling Edwin, he was so good-natured. He did his best. I daresay Carleton will want to take on this little Edwin.”

  “I will not have him at risk.”

  “Indeed, that shall never be. He is the most precious of children.”

  We talked at length of him. How he smiled; how he so rarely cried; how he was so much brighter than all other children. We became close through our love for the child.

  To my surprise she accepted our story about Harriet. She was not really interested. She disliked her because of what had happened with Charlotte. I wondered what she would have said had she know that Charlotte had come near to taking her own life.

  She showed very little interest in young Leigh at first, but he had such winning ways with him, that she could not but be charmed. She made it clear, though, that she had no desire for friendship with Harriet.

  After she had left I had had letters from my parents who were now in Breda.

  It was April. The babies were three months old and my parents were certain that departure for England was imminent. There were letters full of what was happening in the King’s entourage. Negotiations were in progress. Envoys were going between Breda and London. Sir John Grenville had taken a letter from Charles to General Monck and the General had openly declared that he had ever been faithful to the King and that it was only now that he was in a position to be of service to him.

  My mother wrote that there had been some, like our own dear General Tolworthy, who had shared the King’s exile with him and given up all for his sake, but no matter. This was great news. “The King has been asked to return,” she wrote, “and he has sent back his terms to Monck. It cannot now be long.”

  I read my mother’s letter as we sat at the table. Lucas said we ought to start making our preparations, for we should be leaving. The children were excited at the prospect of change, but the servants were flatteringly subdued, and as for Madame Lambard, she demanded to know what she was going to do, having brought two darling children into the world and to have them snatched away from her.

  “It is not yet arranged, Madame Lambard,” I soothed her. “So many times there has been talk like this and nothing came of it.”

  The babies slept in a room next to mine. If they cried in the night I wanted to know. I would go and comfort them. Sometimes it was Leigh who needed to be picked up. Harriet never heard them, she said.

  I scolded her. “You’re an unnatural mother,” I told her.

  “Reluctant would perhaps be a more apt description,” she answered.

  I was disturbed when she talked like that, for I thought of poor Leigh who was really more aware of me and of Madame Lambard than he was of his mother.

  One night Harriet came into my room just as I had retired to bed. That was in mid-April and there had been more news from my parents about the imminent return of the King to England, and this time it was indeed significant. The Parliament had voted that the government of the country should be by the King, the Lords and the Commons. That was good enough.

  Preparations would now go on apace.

  Harriet was in a pensive mood.

  I was already in bed, so she took a chair and studied me.

  “What a lot has happened in a short time,” she said, “and now there will be more changes. Just think of it, Arabella. We really shall be going home.”

  “It’s strange,” I replied. “It’s what we have been waiting for and yet at the same time I feel a little sadness. This old château has been home to me for a long time. I have been happy here. I loved it before I realized that it was shabby and life was rather dull here. It didn’t seem so once.”

  “You have a contented soul, dear Arabella. In time I believe you would make a home wherever you went … and then start to enjoy it.”

  “I realize how little I knew of life before …”

  “Before I came,” suggested Harriet.

  “Yes, I suppose that could be a starting point.”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have stayed, Arabella.”

  “I wonder what would have happened if you had not?”

  “To you … or to me? You would have met your Edwin and married him, for that was preordained … by your families. But you would never have followed him to England.”

  “Then he might be still alive. I should have had him and the baby.”

  “You see, I am a poor exchange.”

  “Oh, please, Harriet, don’t talk like that. It’s a mistake to say, if this had happened something else would. How can we know?”

  “Yes, how can we know? But ‘If’ is a fascinating game and sometimes one can’t resist playing it. If he had lived, perhaps it would not have been as you imagined. There might have been things you would have learned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About each other. You parted when you both were ideals to each other. It is difficult to remain an idol for very long, you know. Unfortunately, every one of us has, if not a foot of clay … a heel … a toenail … You see what I mean?”

  “I can’t bear to think of what I did, Harriet. If I had stayed here …”

  “Let’s not speak of it, then. When you go to England it will be to the Eversleigh ancestral home.”

  “I don’t know. There will be so much to be done. These homes were all but destroyed.”

  “Eversleigh Court wasn’t. We know that by his good services to Cromwell, Carleton Eversleigh managed to keep the place intact, to say nothing of all those treasures stored in the secret compartment behind the books.”

  “Yes, they were fortunate in that.”

  “The treasures will be brought forth and there you will have a luxurious home. Yes, you will go there with your son, Edwin, the heir to a goodly estate, I don’t doubt. For the Eversleighs will be one of those lucky families who will be high in royal favour. The same will apply to the Tolworthys. Little Edwin is well cushioned from either side. But from what I gather, Far Flamstead, the Tolworthy residence, was rather badly mauled by the Roundheads.”

  “I can’t imagine what it will be like after all these years.”

  “Prayer meetings in the banqueting hall, I suspect, and hard pallet beds to replace the comfortable fourposters. One thing we know. It has not been kept cozy by a clever Carleton.”

  “You didn’t like him, did you?”

  “I know his kind. Arrogant, overpowering, wanting to be the master of us all. He didn’t like me, and I have the common human failing of not liking people unless they like me.”

  “It is a new experience for you not to impress a man.”

  “Rare, I grant you.”

  “Doesn’t that make him some sort of challenge?”

  “Not for me in the case of such an overbearing, conceited creature as your cousin-in-law.” Her voice changed suddenly. It wa
s the first time I had ever heard her sound forlorn. “If you go to Eversleigh Court … which I am sure they will want … what of me?”

  “You would come with me.”

  “Do you think I should be welcome? A woman of no consequence with a bastard boy?”

  “Don’t talk like that, Harriet. You know that I should always want you with me.”

  “Dear Arabella. But you see everyone does not feel so kindly towards me. Lady Eversleigh dislikes me … and makes no effort to hide her feelings.”

  “That is because of Charlotte.”

  “No matter what the cause, it exists. I should not be welcome there. Your parents? Would they invite me to Far Flamstead … or wherever they go? Be sensible, Arabella. Where shall I go?”

  “Oh, Harriet, you have been with us so long. I can’t imagine your not being there.”

  “You won’t have to imagine it. It will be a fact.”

  I was silent, for what she said was true. I knew that Lady Eversleigh would not want her and my mother was suspicious of her. Lucas adored her and so did the children, but how much weight would they carry?

  I was horrified by her plight and I said firmly: “No matter what the Eversleighs say, you shall come with me, Harriet. You have done them no harm. Edwin was quite fond of you. They would be a little shocked by Leigh if they were to discover the truth. Ladies are not expected to have children unless they are married. Some servant girls do, and my mother was always kind when they did.”

  “Perhaps I shall be treated with the same leniency as a servant girl,” she said with a laugh.

  Then for some reason we were both laughing.

  She came to the bed and implanted a light kiss on my brow. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I shall be able to look after myself when the time comes, never fear.”

  Then she went out and left me. She was right. I could feel confident that she would look after herself. And in my heart I believed that she would come with me. I could not imagine life without Harriet.

  News came filtering in at speed.

  The City of London and the Fleet declared for Charles.

  This meant that as soon as the King was ready to sail, he might safely do so.

  His statue had been set up in the Guildhall and the Commonwealth’s arms had been reduced. That was not all. News immediately followed this that Charles had solemnly been proclaimed King in London and Westminster. There was to be a day of thanksgiving because the Commonwealth was ended and there was once more to be a king on the throne.

  Then the greatest news of all. A committee of six lords and twelve commoners had arrived at The Hague with an invitation to the King. He was asked to return to his kingdom. His birthday by good fortune fell on the twenty-ninth of the month, and it seemed fitting that on that day he should make his triumphant entry into London.

  So at last it had come. Our return was imminent.

  It seemed as though friends emerged from all over France. They were making their way to the coast for the great day, and there were constant visitors at the château. The servants had always liked visitors but now they were saddened. They knew that soon we should be going. Sometimes I thought Madame Lambard might attempt to kidnap the babies and hide them away to prevent our taking them. The melancholy in the castle was an odd contrast to the high spirits of our visitors, but it was rather touching and very complimentary. We were sad too, for now that the promised land was in sight, we could spare a thought for those whom we should have to leave behind.

  “We shall be back to see you, Madame Lambard,” I said. “And you must come to see us. I shall bring Edwin over to show you.”

  She smiled at me and rather sadly shook her head.

  There was always a great deal to do because of the constant stream of people who came—some staying for a day, others at night and a few much longer.

  One of the latter was Sir James Gilley, a rather dashing gentleman in his late forties, I imagined—quite a dandy who admitted he had suffered a great deal from exile. He was a friend of the King and he used to say to us, “Charlie will change all that when he gets back,” and, “Charlie would appreciate you ladies.” I remarked to Harriet that he was on very familiar terms with His Majesty.

  Harriet loved to listen to his tales of the Court, and although it had for the last years been a poor sort of Court, a travelling one looking for hospitality where it could find it, still the King was at the head of it; and as Sir James told us, “When he is back, Charlie is going to make up for all that.” He had already confided to Sir James that, once back, he had made up his mind never to go wandering again.

  May seemed a lovelier month than ever that year. I was sure there were more flowers than usual. The buttercups and dandelions made a sheen of gold in the fields and the slender bluebells a lovely mist in the woods. I used to awake early and get out of bed to make sure that the babies were happy. Then I would take Edwin back to my bed and lie there talking to him while I listened to the gay, abandoned singing of the birds.

  Harriet seemed a little aloof. I guessed she was getting more and more anxious. There was such change in the air and she was thinking of her future.

  No matter. I was going to take her with me. I was sure I could persuade Matilda Eversleigh that she was my friend and as such I wanted her to live with me.

  Lucas was a little apprehensive. He was too old to be able to accept our return as the panacea of all our troubles. He had been too long at Château Congrève to be able to leave it blithely. Also he was wondering about Harriet, for he accepted the fact that I must go with my new family and it seemed likely that Harriet would come with me while he, of course, would go to our parents’ home.

  Dick was excited, and I heard him telling the others the wildest stories about an England he had never seen. But he had his own pictures of it, for he had heard much of it over the years.

  Harriet seemed to enjoy the company of those who came to the château. She reminded me of the Harriet who had gone to Villers Tourron and had been the centre of attraction. She rode out with our guests, and I often heard their laughter when she amused them with her conversation and stories about herself which I knew were mainly fabrications. But they were always amusing and told with a wit which seemed to charm the listeners. She posed as the young widow, and it was assumed that her husband had lost his life in the same affray that Edwin had, and like me she was the widow of a hero who had given his life in the King’s cause.

  Sir James Gilley told me one bright morning that on the next day he would be moving on. He was making his way to the coast and there he would await the King’s party. They would cross the Channel and a great welcome would be awaiting them on the other side, he doubted not.

  “And, dear lady, it will not be long before you will follow us, I am sure of that. I trust we shall meet at the King’s Court. Charlie will want to meet those who have been his good friends throughout the years.”

  I said that I doubted not my father would be coming to the château soon, for if the King were on his way, so would he be.

  “Then we shall meet soon. Tomorrow morning early I shall depart and I shall say farewell to you this evening, for I shall be off, I doubt not, before you are astir.”

  “I will rise early.”

  “Nay, it would grieve me. You have been such a perfect hostess, I should not wish to cause you further trouble.”

  “It would be no trouble.”

  “Nay, dear lady,” he said. “Let me slip away. Our next meeting will be in London, I promise myself.”

  That day he made preparations, and I saw very little of him, and after we had supped that night he thanked me formally for my hospitality and he vowed that when he saw my father he would tell him what a fine daughter he had.

  He said he would retire early to be off at the first sign of dawn.

  Harriet came to my room that night.

  “He will be gone tomorrow,” I told her. “You have been good friends. You will miss him.”

  She shrugged her shou
lders. “In these days people come and go. Until we are living in a more stable society, one should not attach too much importance to passing acquaintance.”

  “James Gilley says we shall meet again ere long.”

  “That may be. I wonder if the King will remember all his friends. There will be so many around him to remind him of their loyalty.”

  “Perhaps he will remember those who do not need to remind him.”

  “Ah, there’s wisdom there.” She looked intently at me. “Change … everywhere,” she went on. “You feel it all around you. It’s in the air.”

  “Naturally. At least that for which we have waited all these years is about to come to pass.”

  “Do you think it will live up to expectations, Arabella?”

  “It will be good to be home. We shall no longer be exiles living on the charity of our friends.”

  “Ah, that will be good. Oh, Arabella, we shall always be friends. I know it.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Whatever I’ve done you would forgive me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Always remember that.”

  “How solemn you are tonight.”

  “It’s a solemn occasion.”

  “You are anxious about the future, I believe. You mustn’t be. You’re coming with me. I would not allow it to be otherwise.”

  She came over to the bed and kissed me.

  “God bless you, Arabella.”

  I thought she looked unusually solemn. Then she laughed and said: “I’m tired. Good night.”

  And she was gone.

  The next day stands out clearly in my memory.

  I did not hear the departure. Sir James must have left early and quietly, as he had said he would.

  I went in to the babies. They were sleeping peacefully. I picked up Edwin cautiously and sat for a while as I loved to do, rocking him in my arms.

  He awoke and started to whimper. Then Leigh heard him and started too. So I took him up and sat for some time, holding one in the crook of each arm.

  Madame Lambard came bustling in to attend to them and I went back to my room to dress.