“I see you are gallant and determined to flatter me, but as you have already warned me that I must not take you seriously, I shall not do so. I daresay you would be as happy or happier riding through an English country lane with Mistress Jane or Betty.”
“At this moment I ask nothing more. Perhaps if I were in an English country lane with Mistress Arabella that could be a more desirable project, but it hadn’t occurred to me in my moment of pleasure. If I were at home that would mean that the excitement was over. I have to confess another failing. I enjoy excitement.”
“And danger?”
“Therein lies the real excitement.”
“I think,” I said, “you do not mean all you say.”
“I mean it at the moment. Later on perhaps I should mean something else.”
“You are a fickle person, perhaps?”
“Fickle in some ways, constant in others. Constant in friendship, I assure you, and I hope, Mistress Arabella, that you and I are going to be friends.”
“I hope that too,” I answered.
He leaned towards me suddenly and touched my hand.
I think I was already half in love with him.
The others caught up with us. I noticed that Harriet was riding with Charles Condey and that he was still a little bemused by her. Charlotte was with them. She did not betray that she had noticed Charles’s attitude towards Harriet, but I had already assumed that she was a girl who would not show her feelings.
While I was changing, Harriet came in. I had slipped off my riding habit and put on a loose gown.
“You look pleased with yourself,” was Harriet’s comment.
“I like it here,” I replied. “Don’t you?”
“I like it very much.”
She rose and looked at herself in the mirror. She took off her riding hat and, shaking out her hair, picked up the Juliet cap which was lying on the table and put it on. She studied her face from all angles.
“What a discovery!” she said.
“It’s really rather beautiful.”
She nodded, keeping it on her head, still looking at her reflection and smiling almost secretively.
“You and Edwin seemed to get along very well,” she said.
“Oh, yes. He is easy to talk to.”
“He’s very charming. Rather fond of the ladies I should say.”
“Perhaps that is why we like him. Naturally we would like those who like us.”
“Clever observation,” she said with sarcasm. Then she looked at me though half-closed eyes. “It wouldn’t surprise me …” she began and stopped.
“What wouldn’t surprise you?”
“If the meeting had been arranged with a purpose.”
“A purpose? What do you mean?”
“Don’t assume innocence, Arabella. He is an eligible young man … extremely eligible. You are not without some eligibility. Daughter of a general, who is friend and close associate of the King. You see what I mean? Here we are in exile where it is not so easy to mate suitably. Therefore, when an arrangement can be gracefully made, it is.”
“You do talk nonsense. I shan’t marry for years. Besides …”
“Besides what?”
“We should both have to agree, shouldn’t we?”
“By the look of you I would say that if the proposition were put to you, you would not be altogether unwilling.”
“I scarcely know him …”
“And he? I think he would be malleable. He is easygoing. I can’t see him putting up a fight against what was so eminently suitable. Oh, Arabella, don’t look so cross. Think how lucky you are to have your future so carefully planned.”
“This is your usual romancing. I think the lies you have told since you have been in this house have been … outrageous. Perhaps I should not have been persuaded to bring you.”
“Think of all the fun you would have missed.”
“And take that cap off your head. It looks quite ridiculous.”
“Wait until I wear it on the great night. I wonder what will have happened by then?”
“That even you cannot prophesy,” I replied.
“We shall have to wait and see,” she replied, smiling at me.
I lay awake that night, thinking of what she had said. Could it really be true? I had to admit that it was possible. I was seventeen and because of our exile there was very little hope of my meeting someone whom I could marry. I wondered if my parents had discussed my marriage with the Eversleighs. Our mutual standing was such that neither family would be averse to a union, and I supposed it was a great concern to parents as to how they were going to get their children married.
Had Edwin really been chosen for me? I had to admit that, although I should have preferred him to have chosen me romantically, I could not help being excited by the prospect.
I had never in my life seen a young man so handsome, so gallant, so attractive. But then what young men had I seen? The only one I could compare him with was the actor Jabot and of course he was very different from him. I had not liked Jabot in the least and could not understand why Harriet and Fleurette could have been jealous about him. Edwin had everything to make him appeal to a romantic girl, and I was a romantic girl.
What a glorious adventure! I was in love with Edwin and he was the man my parents have chosen for me.
The next day more guests arrived and they were all extremely excited by the prospect of the play. Parts were assigned. Harriet was Juliet and Edwin, Romeo. I was Lady Capulet, which I said was absurd, as I should portray Harriet’s mother.
“It will be a test of your powers as an actress,” she told me severely.
Charles Condey was Friar Laurence.
“It will suit him,” said Harriet with a laugh.
I don’t think I had ever seen her so excited. She was at the centre of everything.
Everyone was drawn into the project. The servants were eager to help. One of them was an excellent seamstress and she was working almost the whole of the day making costumes. Harriet was in her element. She sparkled; she grew more beautiful than ever, if that were possible. Everyone referred to her. I called her the Queen of Villers Tourron.
She spent a good deal of time with Edwin—rehearsing, she told us.
“He’s quite a good actor,” she said. “I am really making a Romeo of him.”
She spent a little time with Charles Condey too, schooling him in his part. I was a little worried about Charlotte because she seemed to become more withdrawn than ever.
I remonstrated with Harriet when we were alone.
“I don’t think Charlotte is very happy about you and Charles Condey,” I said.
“What about us?” she asked.
“You know he is becoming infatuated by you.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Is that my fault?”
“Yes,” I answered shortly.
She burst out laughing. “My dear Arabella, it is up to Charlotte, is it not?”
“Charlotte is a girl who would never deliberately set out to attract a man.”
“Then it serves her right if she loses him.”
“Oh, come, men are not prizes to be won for … I was going to say for good conduct … but I could hardly call the way you are behaving that, could I?”
“Oh, but they are,” she said. “Some people have prizes presented to them when they really don’t deserve them. Others have to work for them. Charlotte may lose hers simply because she has made no effort to keep it.”
“Are you trying to win Charles Condey?”
“You know I always go for the top prizes. He’s hardly that.”
“Then why not leave him to Charlotte?”
“Perhaps I will.”
I was very uneasy, but after our talk I noticed she was less with Charles than before. She said she had to concentrate on her scenes with Romeo.