‘Oh … it never seemed real somehow to me.’
‘It was real enough to be broken.’ I turned to Angelet. ‘I’ll go and tell Mother that Bastian is here.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Angelet.
‘No, you stay and talk to Bastian.’ I was half-way up the stairs before she could protest.
I went and told my mother and she went down to the hall, but I did not accompany her. Afterwards I wondered whether it looked too pointed. What I really wanted to convey was the fact that Bastian was no longer of any special interest to me.
By supper time I had still not seen him alone. Whenever I was in his company I always contrived that others should be there, and he would look at me with anguished appeal, but I was enjoying the situation. This was revenge … far better than that I had planned on Carlotta. After all, it was Bastian who was the guilty party.
It was inevitable that he should catch up with me at some time. It happened the next morning when I had gone into the gardens to gather some flowers. I had in fact arranged it should be so and I wanted it to happen in daylight in view of the house. I was a little uncertain, not so much of my love for Bastian—which I think I understood and which was based on his preference for me, so that it was not real love—but of what Phoebe called ‘the need’. That was there. I thought of lying on the cool grass with him bending over me, and I had to confess that I thought that would be pleasant—well, more than pleasant.
But my pride was urging me and that must remain stronger than my senses.
So I contrived this meeting in the garden where anything other than a change of words would be impossible.
‘Bersaba,’ he cried, ‘I have to speak to you.’
I pretended to be interested in the rose I was cutting.
‘Listen to me. I’ve come to ask you to marry me.’
I raised my eyebrows. How I should have longed to hear him say that just a short time ago. I was not yet eighteen and we were to have been married then, but now everything was changed. I had seen Sir Gervaise from London and I had to admit that although he did not appeal to me in the way Bastian had done, I liked well his elegant mode of speech and the easy manner with which he wore his clothes. He had shown me that there was a life outside this narrow country one in which we had spent out lives. I had been fascinated by the talk of Courts in which he, Carlotta and Senara had been engaged so often. I thought: I am young for marriage. If I marry Bastian I should be here for the whole of my life. Is it what I want? Don’t I want to see the world? I should like to go to London, to see the King and the Queen and the people whose names had been bandied about at our table. Carlotta’s coming has indeed changed everything and changed me too. Marriage was more than lying in feather-beds—more comfortable than the hard earth, but more binding; it was growing up, changing, seeing life from a hundred different angles. Yes, the events of the last weeks had made me realize that I was very young and inexperienced of life.
Realizing this so clearly showed me how to deal with Bastian.
I replied: ‘Thank you, Bastian. I am indeed honoured. It is good of you to think of me now that Carlotta has rejected you, but I am too young for marriage and have no intention of entering into that state yet.’
‘Bersaba, don’t be a little idiot. You’re talking like Gervaise Pondersby.’
‘That must be interesting. She preferred it, didn’t she, to your rough country speech?’
‘You’re jealous, Bersaba. There’s no need to be. I don’t know what came over me. It was like a spell. I just couldn’t help it.’
‘So you forgot that you had talked of marriage to me?’
‘I always meant it to be you, Bersaba … after what used to happen …’
‘We can forget that,’ I said sharply.
‘You can forget it?’
‘Yes,’ I said boldly, ‘and if I can you should … and it is obvious that you did.’
‘Bersaba, my dearest little Bersaba …’
‘I am not your dearest. There was one who was dearer. It is only because she preferred someone else that you are here now.’
‘I am asking you to marry me. Have you forgotten what you gave me? That is what you should only give your husband. Don’t you know that? I have seduced you, Bersaba. What would your parents say?’
‘Nothing, because they won’t know. You didn’t seduce me, Bastian. I seduced you. I wanted experience. Well, I’ve had it, and as far as I’m concerned there’s an end to the matter.’
‘You’re talking like a … like a …’
‘Yes, like a what?’
‘Like a courtesan.’
‘Perhaps that’s what I am. You thought me such, didn’t you? You were my lover and as soon as Carlotta came along you forgot me.’
‘I never forgot you, not once. And now I want to make amends.’
‘Amends.’ I knew my eyes were blazing. ‘There is no need, Bastian. Fortunately there are no … consequences. It is all over. I no longer want you. I no longer need you. Can you understand that?’
‘You’re so different, Bersaba. I can’t believe you’re the same.’
‘You find it hard to believe that I am not eager for you. That’s it, isn’t it? I’ve grown up, Bastian. You have helped me to grow up. That’s all you mean to me. I’m grateful in a way. I’m not a child any more. I know something of what life is about. I shan’t go to my husband as a shrinking virgin, shall I … thanks to you.’
‘You would never have shrunk, Bersaba.’
‘From some I should … as from you now. Bastian, I must ask you not to bother me any more.’
‘I shall speak to your parents,’ he said.
‘They would never force me to marry against my will.’ I looked down at my fingers. ‘These thorns are sharp.’ I sucked my finger without looking at him. Then I went on cutting the roses, and he stood there watching me helplessly.
My mother asked me to come to her sitting-room as she had something to say to me.
‘Bersaba,’ she said when we were alone, ‘Bastian has asked for your hand in marriage.’
‘I have already refused him, Mother.’
‘I know how you feel, my child. He was betrothed to Carlotta and she rejected him. He is impetuous. He should have waited. But it can be a long engagement. Indeed it would have to be, as both your father and I consider you too young for marriage.’
‘There is no need to consider it at all, Mother. I will not marry Bastian.’
‘You two used to seem so fond of each other.’
‘He is my cousin.’
‘That need provide no real obstacle.’
‘But it is better for cousins not to marry unless they both feel determined to because there is a great love between them.’
‘I always hoped that Bastian would marry one of you.’
‘Perhaps Angelet will oblige.’
‘My dear Bersaba, you sound a little bitter. Don’t take the affair of Carlotta too seriously. She is a very fascinating creature. You see how a noble gentleman like Sir Gervaise became so quickly attracted to her that he is going to marry her. Bastian was temporarily bemused, but he tells me he always loved you and intended to marry you.’
‘Except when he became betrothed to Carlotta.’
‘Ah, you were deeply hurt. I knew it. But it’s over.’
‘Mother, please understand. It taught me something and that is that when I marry it will not be Bastian. Never! I was fond of Bastian but I don’t love him. Please do not ask me to take him because I won’t … I won’t …’
‘You know very well that neither your father nor I would force you into a marriage which was not of your liking.’
‘Then the matter is settled.’
‘Let us leave it for a while, Bersaba. Think about it. Bastian would be a good, kind and gentle husband. He would help you slowly to realize all that marriage means.’