“That’ll soon pass.”
I felt rather sorry for Harriet. She had so wanted to be Juliet tonight, and it was a pity, because I knew that for all the flattering compliments I had received, she would have done it so much better than I.
All next day I went about in a state of euphoria. I received congratulations, scarcely listening to them. I was carried off by Lady Eversleigh who kept impressing on me how delighted she was, and she told me that she was sending off a message to her husband and my parents that very day, so that they could share the good news. Would I like to write to Mother and Father and let them see how happy I was?
I wrote to them both.
Dearest Mother and Father,
The most wonderful thing has happened. Edwin Eversleigh has asked me to marry him. I am so happy. Edwin is wonderful, so handsome, so kind and so merry. Everything is a joke with him. He’s hardly ever serious. We have had such fun playing Romeo and Juliet together—he, Romeo, I Juliet. He actually proposed during the death scene. Do write to me soon and tell me that you are as happy about this as I am. I have no time for more, as the messenger is about to leave.
Your loving daughter,
Arabella Tolworthy.
The messenger left with the letters and Matilda Eversleigh kept me with her to talk to me and to tell me how well we should get on together. She was sure that the estates would soon be restored. The family mansion, Eversleigh Court, had not been destroyed by those dreadful Roundheads.
She would not let me go, though I was longing to be with Edwin, and at length when I did get away from her, I heard that Edwin had gone riding with several others it seemed. I went to my room. Harriet’s riding clothes were missing so she must have been one of the party.
It was late when they came back. Harriet seemed in very good spirits.
Several of the guests were still staying on, and that night in the great hall the talk was all of the previous night’s entertainment and the betrothal announcement at the end of it.
The musicians played and we sang. Harriet enchanted everyone with her singing. Then we danced. Edwin and I led off the dancing together, and people watching us, I heard afterwards, said that they could have believed they were back at home and the trouble was over, the spoilers of our country vanquished and good King Charles upon the throne.
“Did you enjoy your ride today?” I asked.
He hesitated only briefly. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “You were not with us,” he said. He said the most delightful things.
“So you missed me.”
“That, my dear Arabella, is what I would call an unnecessary question.”
“I should just like to know the answer.”
“I should miss you whenever you were not with me. I know you were with my mother and how much she wanted to talk to you, so I was self-sacrificing. I shall have you for the rest of our lives.”
“I didn’t know you were going riding or …”
“You would have wanted to come. I knew, so I left you with my mother.”
“I didn’t hear you all leave. I knew afterwards that Harriet had gone.”
“Oh, yes, Harriet,” he said.
“Poor Harriet. It was a blow to her not to play Juliet. She would have been perfect.”
“Different, yes,” he said. “But now we are together, let’s think of what’s to come.”
“I have thought of nothing else.”
“When we get back to England … that will be the time! Then we can live naturally … just as though that ridiculous war never happened. That’s what I am waiting for.”
“First, though, we have to get there. You have to go away soon.”
“That will not be for long. And then I shall come back and ever after we shall be together.”
One of the reasons I most enjoyed being with Edwin—apart from the fact that I was deeply in love with him—was that he carried one along on his ever-present optimism so that one believed in it as wholeheartedly as he did.
How happy I was during the days that followed.
Then something disturbing happened.
Charles Condey left. He pleaded urgent business, but I knew the real reason. The night before he left, Harriet told me that he had asked her to marry him.
She watched me closely as she told me this.
“Harriet!” I cried. “Did you say yes?” And even as I spoke I was thinking, Poor Charlotte.
She shook her head slowly.
“Of course,” I said. “I knew you didn’t love him.”
How wise I felt myself to be in my own exalted experience. I was so happy that I wanted everyone to share my happiness, particularly Harriet. I would have felt it to be wonderful if she could have become betrothed at the same time.
“It would not have been suitable,” she said.
“But, Harriet …”
She turned on me suddenly. “Good enough for me, you are thinking. A strolling player’s bastard. Is that it?”
“Harriet, how can you say that!”
“You are to marry the scion of an ancient house. Money and title in due course. Lady Eversleigh! That is well. You are the daughter of a great general. But anything is good enough for me.”
“But, Harriet, Charles is of good family. He is young and charming.”
“A third son … without means.”
“Well, the Eversleighs apparently thought him good enough for Charlotte.”
She was venomous suddenly. “They were hard put to it to find anyone to take Charlotte. There would have been a big dowry along with her. Once they were back in England … Charles Condey would have done very well for himself.”
“It shows how noble he was in giving it up. I mean it shows he was really in love.”
“Dear Arabella, we are not discussing his feelings, but mine. When I marry it must be someone equal to your gallant bridegroom.”
“Harriet, there are times when I don’t understand you.”
“Which is just as well,” she muttered.
Then she was subdued and would say no more, but she had made me uneasy and I could not recapture that first bright flush of happiness.
I noticed too that, though Charlotte tried to be bright, there was a sadness beneath her efforts. My own happiness was clouded. I wanted to show friendliness towards her but it was not easy. Charlotte had encased herself behind a defensive wall.
Two days after Charles had left, when the guests were gradually departing, I went up to the turret to the lookout tower. I was expecting letters from my parents, and from there I could see right out to the horizon.
Perhaps it was too early yet to receive replies, but I wanted to look just in case.
There was a door which led onto a stone parapet and below this was a sheer drop to the ground. I don’t know what it was that sent me there at that time. I liked to think it was some instinct, but I thanked God that I went.
Charlotte was there, her hands on the stone parapet. And the horrible realization struck me that she was poised to jump.
“Charlotte!” I called, my voice shrill with terror.
She started and hesitated. I froze with horror, for I thought she was going to throw herself over before I could reach her. “No, Charlotte. No!” I cried.
Then to my relief she turned and looked at me.
I have never seen such misery as I saw in her face, and I felt a deep pity that was tinged with remorse because I knew that I was in a way responsible for her unhappiness. It was I who had brought Harriet to Villers Tourron. But for Harriet she would be a happy girl now, betrothed to the man she loved.
I ran to her and caught her arm.
“Oh, Charlotte!” I cried, and she must have seen the depth of my feelings, for they called forth some response in her.
Acting purely on impulse, I put my arms round her and for a few seconds she clung to me. Then she drew quickly away and the habitual coldness had crept over her face.