He was like a man possessed. He had prayed for a sign that his father was forgiven and taken into Heaven, and this he was sure was it. His father had taken a life and he had been given the chance to save one.
“Praise God in His Heaven,” he cried.
I was deeply shocked, said the doctor. I must lie quietly. I must take care.
And indeed I had every reason to be shocked. Within a short time murder had been twice attempted and I its victim. No one—except Sally—could say that my miscarriage was due to anything but natural misfortune, but that there had been two attempts on my life was obvious.
When Carleton returned to the house he came at once to my room.
When I saw his face I asked myself how I could ever have been so foolish as to have doubted him. If ever I needed proof that he loved me, it was there in his eyes for me to read.
He knelt by my bed. He took my hand, the one which was not bandaged, and kissed it.
“My dearest, what is going on? Is this a madhouse?”
“I think there is madness in it,” I said.
He knew that I had been shut in the arbour but when he heard that Charlotte had locked me in, he was astounded.
“Where in God’s name is she?” he asked. “We must find her. She will do someone an injury. She must have gone completely mad.”
But Charlotte had disappeared.
They searched for her but they could not find her. Carleton stayed by my bedside. He made me tell him everything that had happened. I could hold nothing back now. It all came tumbling out, my doubts, my suspicions, my fears, and as I talked and he listened there came to us a revelation and that was that we had been brought face to face with ourselves. We loved each other; no one had ever or could ever mean the same to us. Edwin had not really died in the arbour; he had lived on to stand between us. We had both of us built up our own image of Edwin and his importance in our life. I had convinced myself that I had truly loved him and that because he had deceived me I would never trust anyone again. Carleton had believed that I would never let him take that place which had been Edwin’s. I think we saw then how foolish we had been. How we had allowed a false conception to corrode our marriage.
Lying there in my bed with Carleton sitting beside me while we talked to each other in low, intense voices, laying bare our innermost thoughts, the revelation came to us. It was a chance to begin again, free from our shackles, to live again to find our happiness together.
One of the servants going into the library early next morning found a letter which was addressed to me.
My hands shook as I opened it, for I saw that it was in Charlotte’s handwriting.
“How did you get this?” I demanded.
“It was in the library, mistress,” was the answer, “propped up against the books on one of the shelves.”
I opened it and read:
Dear Arabella,
I owe you an explanation. When I had set fire to the arbour I came into the house and watched from one of the windows. When I saw Young Jethro carry you out I knew that was the end for me. Do you remember when you came with Edwin and Harriet you hid in that secret cavity in the library? Few people knew about it. It has been kept like that for family emergencies. … I went and hid myself there. I took paper and pen there and I am writing this to you now. I hate anything to be unfinished. So I don’t just want to disappear. If I did it would create one of those mysteries about which people speculate and make up all sorts of legends.
You know how it has always been with me. I am the outsider … the disappointment. Even my parents couldn’t hide their exasperation with me sometimes. I never shone at parties. I remember hearing my mother say once, “How are we ever going to find a husband for Charlotte?” I was fifteen at the time. I was so desperately unhappy I decided to take my life. Cut my veins as the Romans die. So you see when you found me at the parapet there it was not the first time I had contemplated taking my life. It was a sort of balm to my anger. They’ll be sorry then, I would say, and would be comforted contemplating their sorrow. People who constantly threaten a suicide for the discomfiture of others rarely do it. But there can come a time when there is no turning back.
I’m giving myself the luxury of writing to you now and I must resist the temptation to go on and on. I have to be brief.
I thought I was going to marry Charles Condey but Harriet spoilt that. If I had married him I might have settled down and become an ordinary wife—not very exciting, of course, but then Charles was not exciting. He was the one for me. How I hated her. I could have killed her. When I found out Edwin was her lover I was comforted in a way. I had not been the only one who had suffered. It shows you my nature, which is not at all admirable, I fear.
Then we came home and when I saw Carleton I admired him so much. He seemed to be in command of his life as I never could be. He is the sort of person I should have liked to be. My parents were always saying what a pity it was he was married to Barbary, and when she died I heard them say, “Now if Carleton married Charlotte, what a marvellous solution that would be.” I don’t think I should have thought of it as a possibility but for that. Then I started to think about it. Why not? It would be convenient. Married to Carleton. I thought that would be wonderful. I almost loved Harriet for preventing my marriage to Charles Condey.
Then you married Carleton so suddenly and unexpectedly because you’d always seemed to dislike each other. I hadn’t thought of you as a rival. It wasn’t that I hated you. I could never do that. I just hated life and fate or whatever you call it which had been against me from the start. I watched Harriet. I saw how she used people and I said to myself, why shouldn’t I use people too? Of course I know she is very handsome and amusing and people are attracted by her, but if you have none of these gifts you can be subtle and clever and work in the dark. So that was what I did. I thought that if you died Carleton would be so distressed he would turn to me. I believe my mother would have done everything she could to bring about a marriage between us. I knew how Carleton felt about you. I’d seen him watching you. I know him well. I know all people well. When you don’t have much life of your own, you watch other people … you live other people’s lives. The sound of his voice when he spoke of you … the look in his eyes. I knew that if you died he would not care very much, and if it was convenient, which it would have been, and if there was a little gentle persuasion from the family … someone to look after the children … it could well be. That was what I worked for. As for Harriet, he disliked her. I don’t know what it is about people like those two. They are both experienced with the other sex … both very attractive to people … and yet with each other there is an instant dislike. He hated Harriet being in this house. He hated her influence with you. I knew that he would never marry her—nor she, him, unless it was to get control of Eversleigh. And that was Edwin’s. She was proud to have her Benjie next in line, but she was leaving that to fate. She would never hurt Edwin. All she wanted was a place of comfort. That was what she had worked for all her life.