On this day it seemed especially significant. For that was my mood—bitter-sweet.
Bastian said: ‘I have thought about you so much, Bersaba. I remember so much of …’
‘Of what should be forgotten,’ I answered.
‘It never will be,’ he answered vehemently.
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘You did forget for a time.’
‘No, I never did.’
I laughed and spurred up my horse. He was after me, beside me, pleading, ‘Bersaba, I must talk to you.’
‘Well, pray talk.’
‘I want to marry you.’
‘Now that your first choice Carlotta is out of reach, I make a good second, is that it?’
‘You are first, Bersaba. You would always be first.’
‘My experiences would suggest otherwise.’
‘I must try to explain.’
‘Everything is clear. No explanations are needed.’
‘When I think of everything we used to be to each other …’
‘That makes it all the more clear,’ I retorted sharply. ‘You knew that and yet you preferred Carlotta. Alas for you, she preferred someone else. Poor Bastian! Now you say, “Very well, since I can’t have Carlotta, I’ll take Bersaba.” Alas again for you. Bersaba is not one to be picked up and dropped and then to beg for the return of past favours.’
‘You have a sharp tongue, Bersaba.’
‘It is one of the reasons why it would be unwise for you to marry me.’
‘Your parents would be delighted.’
‘Would they? Have you asked them?’
‘I have spoken to your father.’
‘We are cousins,’ I said.
‘What of it? That didn’t bother you at one time.’
‘I’ve grown up. There is so much you don’t know. I have had a deadly illness, Bastian. I’m changed.’ I had pulled up my horse and dramatically took off my hat and shook back my hair. ‘Look!’ I showed him the scars on my forehead.
‘I love them,’ he said. ‘They make me want you more than ever.’
‘You have strange tastes, Bastian.’
‘Give me a chance, Bersaba.’
‘How? Shall we go to the woods and find a secluded spot and lie there together? Shall you come to my bedchamber this night when the household is asleep? It would be safe, you know. Angelet is no longer there.’
I saw the lights leap into his eyes and I felt a great surge of desire for him, but I held it in check, for my bitterness was as strong as my desire and my pride was as great as my need.
I turned away from him and put on my hat. ‘Then,’ I said, ‘you could enjoy our adventure until someone more desirable came along, someone to whom you could offer marriage.’
I spurred on my horse and galloped away, and as we sped over the soft turf a sudden realization came to me. It was not that I really cared for Bastian, that I needed Bastian, but that I was a sensuous woman who would always need men; I had more than my share of desire than most women, and I wondered then about Angelet and her husband and I knew of course that this was one of the assets—could one call it an asset or a liability?
—of which I had taken the lion’s share.
I knew that I must not be too often alone with Bastian, for old desires would torment me. But I did not love Bastian. I merely wanted that which others could give me, but my need had blinded me to the real reason. As I sped past fields where the rough-headed poppy was peeping out among the corn, as I saw the white flowers of hemlock and the purple bells of foxgloves among the lush grasses, I laughed aloud, because I had reached a new knowledge of myself, and experience had taught me that in knowledge was strength.
My father had decided that the Company would build new offices in Plymouth and Fennimore had expressed a desire to go there and superintend the management of these.
‘Fennimore is not at heart a sailor,’ said my father. ‘I am glad he took this voyage, which has been a revelation to him. He is a Company man. He will be invaluable on land, for that part of the venture is as important as the sea voyages.’
I believe I understood his pleasure. He did not want Fennimore to face the hazards of the sea; he preferred him to remain at home so that my mother did not lose them both now that Angelet had left home, and naturally her place would be with her husband and that was not in the West Country. They were aware of Bastian’s feelings for me, and although the fact of our close relationship may have caused them some qualms as to the wisdom of the match, they could see many advantages. I knew that I only had to say I loved Bastian and their consent to our marriage would be given. Bastian, as he had said, had already spoken to my father.
This amused me very much because I was aware that everyone was waiting for us to announce our betrothal. My mother was in a state of contentment. Her husband was home and it seemed as though his stay would be longer than usual, for he had this matter of the Plymouth office to concern himself with. Fennimore was not to go to sea with him when he next went; Angelet, though sadly missed, was satisfactorily and, it seemed, happily married; and I, Bersaba, had been snatched from what had at one time seemed like the tomb itself and was clearly regaining my health and strength, being only mildly scathed by the experience.
All my mother needed for her personal happiness was that of her family. Each day she looked for letters from Angelet, and when they came she read them aloud and then we all read them separately. I had letters from her too and I could sense something in mine which the others failed to see.
Angelet was holding something back. My sister had a secret, and I longed to know what it was.
Meanwhile I amused myself with Bastian. It was an interesting game I played and I had to be careful too, which added to my zest; for I had to guard my own nature. It would have been so easy to give way, for with my returning health I realized that my desire for a certain kind of pleasure had increased rather than diminished and that, I supposed, was something to do with the matter of growing older.
I would allow Bastian to think I was relenting. I would smile at him beguilingly and suggest we rode out together. Then I would torment him—and myself as well, which was by no means unpleasurable—and I used to feel so proud of myself when I resisted temptation that it was worthwhile having placed myself in a position to feel it. Often when the household was asleep he would slip out of the house and stand beneath my window and throw up soft clods of earth to attract my attention. Sometimes I would pretend not to hear; at others I would open my window and look out.
‘Go away, Bastian,’ I said.
‘Bersaba, I must see you. I must.’
‘I am not Carlotta, you must remember,’ I retorted, shutting my window.
Then I would laugh and feel very excited.
Once he came to my bedroom door, but I had been expecting this and had pulled the bar across.
‘Go away!’ I hissed. ‘Do you want to waken the household?’
It occurred to me that it would be most amusing to let him in and pretend I would allow him to stay and then deny him. But I was afraid of my own reactions and the last thing I wanted to do was to give way.
‘Bastian seems not in the least anxious to go to Castle Paling,’ said my mother. ‘I have sent a message to Melanie to tell her they are back and that Bastian is well. I have told her that there is much to do about this office in Plymouth.’ She smiled at me. ‘But somehow I don’t think that is the only reason.’
How she would have liked to think of her dear daughter only a few miles away at Castle Paling, for if I married Bastian I should one day be the mistress of that castle. She wouldn’t think of that, though. She wanted her brother to live for years and years and she wanted me close to compensate for the loss of Angelet.