Read Saraband for Two Sisters Online

Authors: Philippa Carr

Saraband for Two Sisters (38 page)

When we rode out from the farmhouse I felt elated.

Angelet said: ‘There is no doubt that Luke Longridge is taken with you.’

‘Oh, come,’ I said, ‘you are not still husband hunting.’

‘Indeed not there,’ she replied, laughing. ‘I cannot see you mistress of a farmhouse … and a Puritan one. You are far too vain and fond of finery. All the same, he found it hard to take his eyes from you.’

‘That is because you are a married woman and I am single.’

‘No, it was something else. I think Ella saw it. She was a little uneasy. She need not have worried, I am sure.’

‘I too am sure,’ I said, laughing.

And so we rode back to Far Flamstead, which was dreary and unwelcoming because Richard was not there.

Richard returned to the house, and I wondered how I could endure the days when I might come upon him at any moment and the long evenings when Angelet sat with her tapestry frame or her embroidery and he and I sat opposite each other with the small chess-table between us. Sometimes I would find his eyes upon me and I would look up quickly to catch him gazing at me, but I could not read his thoughts. He might have been assessing my possibilities in the marriage market.

Once I said to him: ‘Are you still contemplating marrying me off?’

‘Your marriage is a matter to which we must give some thought,’ he replied.

‘And we have, Bersaba,’ cried Angelet. ‘I assure you we have. Haven’t we, Richard?’

He bowed his head in assent.

‘It is good of you to give me so much of your attention. Angelet did not seek a husband. Fate brought him to her. I should like it to happen to me that way.’

‘That’s stupid,’ said Angelet. ‘If she stays here she will never meet anyone, will she, Richard?’

I wondered whether he liked the manner in which she referred everything to him. I supposed he did, since it showed she was the meek and docile wife.

‘I am content here,’ I said, looking at him.

I saw his lips lift slightly, which meant he was pleased.

‘Nevertheless, Bersaba, it would not be fair to you. I will arrange something.’

I gave my attention, to the chess, for I could not bear to hear him talk as though he would not be deeply affected if I went.

I went to my room. I knew I would be unable to sleep for thinking of what I had done. I wondered what my mother would say if she ever heard of it. She would make excuses for me, I did not doubt, but secretly she would be so shocked that she would never recover from it. She loved my father singlemindedly, I knew, but if he had married someone else she would have turned away from him and been prepared to live a life of regret—possibly unmarried, possibly with a second best.

People like my mother who were fundamentally good would never understand the overwhelming temptations which came to people like myself. I could be strong, but this need within me—which I had felt for Bastian—was something which, when it was at its full, obliterated everything.

Next day I rode over to the Longridge Farm where I was greeted by Ella. Her brother was out on farm business, she told me.

How neat and prim she looked in her plain grey gown and white apron. I wondered what she would say if she knew of my wickedness. She probably would not receive me here, for Puritans, living such pure lives themselves, were apt to be very harsh on the sins of others.

She talked for a while about the virtues of her brother and how she feared that he might be overbold. Terrible things could happen to those who wrote what was called sedition and was in fact truth.

‘I always remember hearing of Dr Leighton, a Scotsman who wrote
An Appeal to the Parliament; or a Plea against Papacy.
He was publicly whipped on two occasions and stood for two hours in the pillory. His ears were cut off, his nostrils slit and his cheek was branded with the letters S.S. which stood for Sower of Sedition.’

I shivered. ‘Your brother must not run those risks.’

‘Do you think he will listen to me?’

‘I doubt it. It is so with martyrs. They never listen to those who would preserve them.’

‘Dr Leighton is out of prison now.’

‘Perhaps then he can live in peace.’

She turned on me fiercely. ‘What do you think? Ten years the King’s prisoner! He has lost his sight, hearing and the use of his limbs. I suppose that could be called a sort of peace. And all for setting down his thoughts on paper that they might be shared with others!’

‘We live in cruel times, Ella.’

‘It is to change them that Luke and men like him risk their lives.’

We were silent for a while. How quiet and peaceful the farmhouse seemed. My mind went back to Far Flamstead and I wondered what Richard was thinking. What if he were to mention the night to Angelet? What would happen then?

Luke Longridge came in and I couldn’t help noticing how his eyes lit up at the sight of me. I exerted all my power to attract him because I needed some diversion. I must stop thinking about the half-farcical, half-tragic situation at Far Flamstead which I had created.

‘You look sombre, sister,’ he said, but his eyes were on me.

‘We were speaking of Dr Leighton.’

‘Oh yes. There was some agitation about him, but he is now a free man.’

‘After ten years!’ said Ella bitterly. ‘His life is finished. I doubt he has retained his reason.’

I looked straight at Luke and said: ‘It is a warning to people who would fly in the face of those who have power to harm them.’

He sat down at the table, his eyes burning with that fanatical pleasure which talking of these matters gave him.

‘Nay,’ he cried, ‘he is an example to us all.’

‘An example not to follow,’ I cried.

‘Mistress Landor …’

I interrupted him. ‘Pray call me Bersaba. We are good friends, are we not?’

‘It makes me happy to think so. Bersaba, there is work to be done, and if we are made of the stuff that falters when our leaders fall then we are not worthy of the fight.’

‘Perhaps you are worthy of a peaceful life with your family and children growing up in security.’

‘There is no security when tyranny prevails.’

‘Are you sure that when you overcome one tyranny you are not replacing it by another?’

‘We must make sure that is not so. There is no tyranny in the humble service of God.’

‘There is for those who do not wish to serve Him humbly.’

‘You are an advocate for your kind, Bersaba.’

‘What kind? I was unaware that I was of any sect. I think as I think. I will be free to form my own opinions and they will not be dictated to by this party or that.’

‘You would be considered as dangerous as I am.’

‘Nay, for I would not set out my thoughts on paper. I would keep them to myself and not try to force them on others.’

Ella brought us refreshments and we went on talking. She leaned her elbows on the table, saying little but watching us. Luke was animated, excited. I said: ‘Why, I do believe you’re thinking I am Archbishop Laud himself.’

‘I could never think you were anyone but who you are. You are too much of an individual to be confused with anyone.’ I felt the flush creep into my cheeks and memories—which I was trying so hard to eliminate—came rushing back to me. Then I had successfully—or did I succeed?—attempted to be confused for someone else. I wondered what Luke would say if he knew what I had done. I could imagine all his Puritan feelings rising in disgust.

But my blush did nothing more than to enhance his admiration for me.

I said quickly: ‘I hate to blush like this. You see, it makes my scar look worse.’

‘It is no blemish,’ he said. ‘Your sister told me how you acquired it.’

‘In the same way as others have,’ I answered. ‘I contracted smallpox.’

‘She told us how.’

‘You must not think me a heroine. I should not have gone there had I known.’

‘There would have been no purpose in going,’ Ella pointed out.

‘The fact that you did so out of anxiety for your maidservant shows that you are good … in spite of your efforts to deny it,’ added Luke, ‘which, may I tell you, I entirely reject.’

‘Well, what is going to happen?’ I asked.

‘This parliament will be dismissed, and there will be a new one before the year is out. Pym and Hampden will lead it, and then there will be conflict between the King and the Parliament. It will be a question of whether the country will be ruled by those it has elected to rule or by a stubborn man who believes he is on the throne by divine right.’

‘Be careful, Luke,’ warned his sister.

‘You are rash,’ I said, and I thought: We are both rash and it makes a bond between us.

I said I must go, and they asked why my sister had not come with me.

‘She suffers from a toothache.’

‘Did she not have it before?’

‘Yes, it occurs now and then. Mrs Cherry has a good cure which makes her sleep.’

‘I trust she will soon be well,’ said Ella.

‘A nagging tooth is often best removed,’ added Luke.

‘I must tell my sister,’ I said.

Luke took me back. He told me how much he enjoyed my visits, how interesting he found my views.

‘In spite of the fact that they do not accord with your own?’

‘Partly because of that, and because they are delivered with such lucidity, logic and reason.’

‘Perhaps I could bring you to my point of view.’

‘Nay,’ he said. ‘You are a Royalist by nature. I see that. I am a Puritan. I believe that the path to heaven is reached through sacrifice and renunciation of pleasure.’

‘I would never agree with that. Why should that which is enjoyable be sinful?’

‘Simplicity and religious living alone bring the true satisfaction of righteousness.’

I did not answer but I wanted to laugh. I had seen that in his eyes which showed me that he desired me. I did not find him by any means repulsive—even now when there was only one man who could completely satisfy me. There was so much I had to learn about myself. I thought how amusing it would be to prove him wrong.

We had reached Far Flamstead. I said: ‘You are right, Luke. You are too righteous for me. I’m afraid I am a sinner and always shall be. I find too much pleasure in the good things which the Lord has given us. I can’t think why He put them there if He expects us to turn our backs on them. That seems to me churlish. It is like being invited to a banquet and saying to one’s host I will not partake of these good things you offer me because they are too enjoyable and to take pleasure is a sin. Goodbye, Luke. I must return to my sinful life.’

‘Bersaba,’ he said as I turned away.

But I lifted my hand and waved farewell, keeping my back towards him.

I went into the house.

Richard was in the hall.

‘You have been riding … alone?’ he said reproachfully. He looked anxious, which pleased me, but it appeared to be merely a brotherly anxiety.

‘I only went to Longridge Farm and Luke Longridge rode back with me.’

‘You visit them frequently?’

‘I like their company.’

‘You should tell him to take care. There’ll be trouble for that man one day if he persists in writing those pamphlets of his.’

‘I do tell him. He will take no heed of me.’

I could not bear to remain there with him, for I was afraid that I would say something reckless. Was it just possible that he did not know?

That afternoon he left Far Flamstead. It was true that there was trouble in the north. One of the reasons there was so much disquiet in the country was due to the fact that the King was taxing the nobility and the gentry heavily, and the City of London had refused to give the money for which he was asking. Richard said it was desperately needed for the army and that the King was justified in his demands. Luke, on the other hand, believed that the King had no need of an army and that if he had not tried to interfere with Scotland’s religion there would be peace in the north.

I was aware of Angelet’s relief at his departure. Much as she admired him and, as she would say, loved him, she was happier when he was away and the burden of her duty could be cast aside.

She regretted the fact that she had lost her child which would, she once said, ‘have made up for everything’. I pinned her down then and boldly said: ‘Which means that you dread the nights in the big bed, is that it?’

‘How crudely you put it, Bersaba,’ she said, ‘and considering you are not married yourself and know nothing of these things, how can you talk about it?’

‘There are some things a spinster can understand,’ I retorted.

‘You won’t be a spinster long and then you will know for yourself.’

‘The point is,’ I replied, ‘you want the babies, you’ll endure the discomfort of pregnancy, but you dislike the initial necessity.’

She blushed and said: ‘Y … yes. I wish it didn’t have to happen like that.’

That was enough.

She spent her nights in the Blue Room. Her excuse was that she liked to be near me because it reminded her of old times.

‘Why, if we left our doors open we could talk to each other,’ she said wistfully.

It was an excuse to escape the big four-poster in the room they shared, and she wanted to forget its existence as she could in the peace of the Blue Room.

So we went on with the dull life which was so because Richard was not there, and we talked of him now and then and wondered how he was faring.

‘There is so much trouble nowadays,’ said Angelet, secretly hoping that while it did not become awkward it would keep Richard away from Flamstead for a while.

‘Let us hope that these matters are soon settled,’ I replied, fervently meaning it so that he would come back to us.

We went over to Longridge Farm once or twice and were made very welcome. When Luke was there he always singled me out and talked to me. He was always intrigued by my views on any subject and I had to admit that I enjoyed our talks; they were a substitute in a way for my aching desire for Richard. I was aware that he was falling in love with me and that he was a little disturbed by those longings which I knew so well how to arouse in him. I didn’t spare him either. I wanted to prove his theories wrong. I wanted to show him that he would be as eager to partake of the pleasures of life as I would.

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