Saraband for Two Sisters (65 page)

“Discreetly put, dearest.”

“And your cousin?”

“It is yet another interest Carleton would share with the King.”

“He has no wife, then?”

“Yes, he married. There are no children, which has been a trial to him.”

“And what does she think of this … interest in the opposite sex?”

“She understands it perfectly because she shares it.”

“It doesn’t sound a very desirable marriage.”

“It works. He goes his way. She goes hers.”

“Oh, Edwin, how unhappy I should be if we became like that.”

“There is one thing I can promise you, Arabella. We never shall.”

I took his face in my hands and kissed it.

“It would be too much to expect that everyone could be as happy as we are,” I said solemnly.

He agreed.

How the days flew past! I wanted to catch them and hold them to prevent their escape, for the passing of each one brought our separation nearer.

Sometimes Edwin disappeared for hours. Once or twice he returned in the early morning.

“There are so many preparations to be made, sweetheart,” he said. “You know I hate to be away from you.”

Then we made love passionately, and I implored him to get his work done speedily and come back to me.

Inevitably there came the day when he must go.

His hair had been cropped and he was dressed in his sombre clothes. Some might scarcely have recognized him, but he could never lose that merry expression which was so essentially his, that implication that life was something of a joke and not to be taken seriously.

I said good-bye to him and watched him ride off with Tom, his man, who was to share the adventure with him. Then I went to our bedroom to be by myself for a while.

As I shut the door I was aware that I was not alone in the room. Harriet rose from a chair.

“So he has gone,” she said.

I felt my lips trembling.

“Poor deserted bride!” she mocked. “But there is no reason why you should remain so.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“I think you have disappointed him, Arabella.”

I stared at her in astonishment.

“Just think what an ardent bride would do. Don’t look so amazed. She would go with him, wouldn’t she?”

“Go with him?”

“Why not? For better or worse and all that. In England or France … in peace or war … in safety or danger …”

“Stop it, Harriet.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You have led too sheltered a life. But I can see that you enjoy marriage. You all but purr. You really have been helping yourself to the cream. I knew how it would be. Well, what are you going to do now? Sit like the lady in the tower, chastity belt securely fastened to await her lord’s return?”

“Please don’t joke about this, Harriet. I am not in the frame of mind to accept it.”

“Joke! I’m serious. You know what a good wife would do.”

“What?”

“Follow her husband.”

“You mean …”

“Exactly what I say. Why should you not? I think it may be what he expects.”

“Follow him … I should never catch up with him.”

“Oh, yes, we shall. He is reaching the coast in three days’ time. There he will have to wait for the tide. If we left after dark tonight … when they are all in bed …”

“
We
!”

“You don’t imagine I should let you go alone, do you?”

“It’s madness.”

She shook her head. “Madness not to. How do you know what will happen to him? A newly married man needs a wife to comfort him. Having tasted the honeydew of connubial bliss, he will need it and look for it. If you are not there …”

“Stop it, Harriet.”

“Think about it,” she said. “There is till tonight. I shall come with you, for I would not allow you to go alone.”

She rose and went to the door. There she paused to look back at me. Her smile was sly, secretive. She looked as though she could probe my innermost thoughts and was doing so.

When she was gone, I was bewildered, but in my mind I was preparing myself. Was it a wild scheme? Perhaps, but the more I thought of it, the more I knew that now it had been suggested to me, I was going to do it.

In a day or so’s time we should be together.

How excited Harriet was. I could see this was the sort of exploit which appealed to her. How right she had been when she had said she must adventure!

We spent the rest of that day together, making plans. The two of us would leave as soon as the household had retired. We would ride through the night and by morning we should reach the inn where Edwin had stayed.

She knew which one it would be. She had heard him mention it, she said. L’Ananas in the village of Marlon.

“The sooner we join up with them the better. It is not exactly
comme il faut
for two women to be riding about the countryside together.”

She had thought at first of dressing up as a man. That appealed to the actress in her, but even she could not quite succeed in such a role. “As for you,” she said, “everything about you suggests you are of the feminine gender.”

I was in a fever of excitement. I wrote two notes, one to my mother-in-law and one to Lucas. I was sure, I said, that I should soon be back … with Edwin. As for Lucas, he must return to Congrève—which he was going to do in any case—and look after the little ones.

“Oh, Harriet,” I cried as we rode along, “how glad I am that we did this! I wonder what Edwin will say?”

“He’ll laugh at you,” she answered. “He’ll say, ‘Could you not do without me for a few weeks?’”

I laughed aloud with happiness. “Oh, Harriet, it is good of you to come with me.”

“Didn’t I tell you, you have only just begun to live.”

I felt it was true.

I was so happy as we rode through the night.

By great good luck we found the inn L’Ananas with the pineapple painted on its sign and there caught up with Edwin.

He, with his servant, was preparing to leave when we rode into the stables.

I did not think he was altogether surprised, though he pretended to be, and I was exultant because I had come to him and grateful to Harriet. I myself should never have thought of undertaking such an adventure.

We dismounted and stood before him. He caught us both up in his arms and hugged us.

“What …?” he began. “Well …” Then as Harriet had predicted he started to laugh.

“I had to come, Edwin,” I said. “I had to be with you.”

He nodded and looked from me to Harriet.

“It seemed the best thing to do,” she said.

He hesitated just for a second or so and then he said: “It calls for celebration. There’s nothing but mine host’s
vin ordinaire …
and very
ordinaire,
I warn you. Come let us go inside and we’ll drink to our reunion.”

He walked between us, an arm through each of ours.

“You must tell me all about it. What did my mother say?”

“She will know when she finds her note this morning,” I said.

“Oh, notes, eh? Drama indeed! Bless you. I have never been more glad of anything in my life than the sight of you.”

“Oh, it’s all right, then, Edwin?” I cried. “You’re not angry? We haven’t been foolish?”

“Foolish, I dare say, but adorable.”

What an enchanting hour we spent in that inn. The wine was brought and we sat, Harriet and I, one on either side of Edwin.

“Do you know,” he said, “it’s a strange thing but I was hoping you would come. That’s why I hesitated about leaving here. I should have been on my way at dawn.”

“It was Harriet who thought of it.”

He put his hand over hers and held it for a moment. “Wonderful Harriet,” he said.

“I must admit,” I babbled, “when I first heard of it I thought it rather outrageous. I didn’t really take it seriously. I wondered if you would be annoyed.”

“Have you ever seen me annoyed?”

“No, but perhaps so far there has been nothing to be annoyed about.”

“You are enchanting,” he said. “I could never be anything but pleased to see you. We shall have to do something about clothes, however. You both look too splendid to be welcome in Puritan England. Are you good sailors?”

We declared we were excellent sailors, not that I could be sure of that—there was only one thing I could be sure of and that was that, when I was with Edwin, I was happier than I had ever dreamed possible.

“What Cousin Carleton will say when I arrive with two beautiful ladies, I do not know. He is expecting me and my one servant. Well, the more the merrier.”

I was serious suddenly. “I hope we shan’t make it dangerous for you, Edwin?”

“Indeed not. You will make it easier. A Puritan gentleman escorting two ladies … How natural. Whereas a man on his own with one who is obviously a servant … that could arouse suspicions.”

“I can see,” said Harriet, “that your husband is determined to make us feel welcome.”

“Welcome,” cried Edwin, “as the flowers in May.”

I was so happy I wanted to burst into song. What particularly delighted me was his attitude towards Harriet. He was so charming with her and I could see that she felt as welcome as I.

We rode out in the pride of the morning, for we assured him we needed no rest although we had ridden through the night, and we sang as we went along—Edwin in the middle, Harriet and I riding on either side of him—on to the coast and England.

Stepping onto one’s native shore from which one has been an exile for so many years must necessarily be an emotional occasion.

Wrapped in my sombre cloak, acquired before we set sail, I felt a strange exhilaration. This was home. Something we had talked of for years, certain that one day we would be there. And here I was.

I could not help my thoughts going back to that long-ago night when we had been accompanied to the coast by my grandparents; I remembered the smell of the sea and the way in which the boat had tossed, and our mother had held Lucas and me close to her while the waves rocked the boat and the wind caught at our hair. I remember our grandparents standing on the shore, watching and watching, and the strange, mingled feelings of sadness and exhilaration which I had felt then.

Now there was only exhilaration. Tom, Edwin’s servant, jumped out of the boat and waded ashore. Then Edwin stepped out. He took first me in his arms and carried me to dry land, and then Harriet.

It was dark. He whispered to me: “Don’t be afraid. I know every inch of this shore. Eversleigh is six miles from here. I used to ride down here to play on the beach. Come.”

He took my hand in his left and Harriet’s in his right and we walked over the shingle.

“Can you see anyone around, Tom?” he asked of his man.

“No, sir. Maybe if you stayed here with the ladies I’ll scout around.”

“I know where,” Edwin said. “White Cliffs cave. We’ll wait there. Don’t tarry too long, Tom.”

“No, sir. I’ll be back at the cave in twenty minutes or so if I can’t find what we need.”

I listened to Tom’s footsteps crunching on the shingle. Then Edwin said: “You ladies follow me.”

Within a few minutes we were in the cave. “White Cliffs cave,” he went on. “Why they called it that I don’t know. It’s all white cliffs here. I used to hide in here when I was a boy. I’d make a fire and spend hours here. It was my special hideaway.”

“How lucky that we landed near it,” said Harriet.

“It was due to my expert navigation.”

“What is your cousin going to say when he finds us here?” I asked.

“That we shall discover,” replied Edwin blithely.

“I am looking forward to playing the Puritan,” said Harriet. “It’ll be a testing role, because I have a particular dislike of Puritans.”

“As we all have,” replied Edwin.

“Edwin,” I said, “what will be expected of Harriet and me at Eversleigh?”

“As we are not expected nothing will be expected of us,” retorted Harriet, and she and Edwin laughed as though sharing a joke.

But I insisted: “This is an important mission and we have joined it … rather recklessly. Your cousin will be surprised to see us, I know, and as we are here, we could perhaps do something to help the enterprise.”

“He will quickly make use of you if he feels a need to,” said Edwin. “We have to wait to see what he has discovered. I shall make him agree that it is less conspicuous travelling with two ladies than alone with a manservant, and I am sure he will grant me that.”

“Then we have been of some use,” said Harriet. “It is good to be useful.”

We lay against the hard rock and I felt I had never been so excited in my life. My quiet existence had suddenly become a thrilling adventure. How long ago it seemed since I had received a letter from my mother telling me that the Eversleighs would be inviting me. How could I have guessed what a sesame that would be to glorious living?

Edwin talked of his boyhood when he had camped in this cave. “My secret hiding place,” he called it. “When the tide is high the water comes in. One could be trapped here. It’s happened once in about fifty years. Don’t be alarmed; It’s low tide and at this time of the year we’re safe enough. Besides, Tom will soon be back. You can be sure Cousin Carleton has not let us down. We are to have horses waiting to take us to Eversleigh.”

“How many horses?”

“Two only, my darling.”

“But we are four.”

“Never fear, you will ride pillion. One with me, one with Tom.”

“So it has worked out very satisfactorily,” said Harriet.

I heard him chuckle in the darkness of the cave. “Couldn’t be more so.”

There was a crunching on the shingle and Tom was at the mouth of the cave.

“The horses are waiting, sir,” he said.

We emerged and climbed up the slight incline to a path.

“We’re to be travellers in difficulties,” said Edwin lightly. “Come.” He looked from me to Harriet, and hesitated a moment. “I’ll carry my wife,” he said. “Tom, you take Mistress Main.”

We mounted and were soon riding through the early morning.

The dawn was just breaking in the sky when we reached Eversleigh Court. A high wall surrounded it, and above this, one could glimpse the gables. The gates were open and we rode in. The austerity of the place hit me like a cold wind. Château Congrève and Villers Tourron had been shabby—second-rate dwellings of the rich offered by them to their needy friends who had become exiles—but this was different. Very clean, in good order, but on it was the stamp of that kind of Puritanism which sees sin in colour, beauty and charm.