I rode into the courtyard and one of Harriet’s grooms who was there gave a great shout when he saw me.
I called out: “Yes, I’m here. At last I have arrived.”
He rushed to help me dismount. “I must go and tell the mistress. They’ve been that worried.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”
We ran into the house. I was shouting: “Harriet. Gregory. Benjie. I’m here.”
Harriet was the first to appear. She stared at me for a few moments and then she ran to me and caught me in her arms. “Oh, Carlotta,” she cried. “Wherever have you been? We’ve been worried to death. Gregory. Benjie. She’s here. Carlotta’s here.”
Benjie came running into the hall. He swept me up into his arms. There was no mistaking his joy.
Then there was Gregory—dear quiet Gregory, who might be less effusive but who was as delighted to see me as the rest.
“You’ve come alone …”
“Harriet, I’ve had such an adventure …”
“But you’re worn out. You need something to eat and your clothes …” That was Harriet.
“The grooms came here without you. They said you must have been attacked on the way from the inn to the farm where they were staying.”
“I’ll tell you all about it. I hardly know where to begin.”
“I do,” said Harriet, “with food and a wash and change. Your saddlebags arrived. I can tell you we’ve been frantic. Now you men, leave Carlotta to me, and, Gregory, go and tell them to speed up supper, but first some chicken broth for Carlotta and it is to be brought to her room.”
Harriet took me up to the room I always occupied at Eyot Abbass. She brought out a gown from my baggage and almost immediately the chicken broth arrived. I took it greedily and then I washed in the hot water which was brought to me and changed into my gown.
Harriet came back to see how I was getting on.
“You’ve had an adventure,” she said. “A pleasant one.”
“I narrowly escaped being murdered.”
“You look elated. We’re longing to hear. I won’t question you now, my dear. You can tell us all over supper.”
So I told—at least what I wanted them to know. I had decided on my way here that there must be some truth in my story. I would soon be caught out if I made up something entirely different, which at first I had felt inclined to do because I did not want to put Hessenfield in danger. But he was safe now. I had watched him board the ship. He would probably be in France at this moment.
So I told them of our late arrival at the Black Boar and how all the rooms were taken by a party of six men and how all I could get was the small room on the same floor, which had not pleased them.
I went on to tell them how I had discovered that they had with them a sick man whom I recognised as General Langdon.
“Why, he has escaped from the Tower!” cried Benjie.
“Exactly,” I said. “They had rescued him. They were going to kill me because I knew who the General was, but one of them wouldn’t allow it.”
I wondered if a soft note had crept into my voice. I thought it might be so because Harriet looked especially alert.
“They took me with them to a house on the coast. A ship came and they went away in it.”
“And they released you then?” said Gregory.
“I suppose they thought they were safe, the vile wretches,” added Benjie.
“They believed in a cause,” I pointed out. “They really believe it is right to restore James to the throne.”
“Have they made a Jacobite of you?” said Harriet.
“Of course not. I’m not interested in their stupid causes.”
“What a terrible ordeal,” went on Harriet. “We’ve been frantic.”
“My mother?” I began.
“I didn’t tell her. I thought I’d wait awhile. I had a notion you were safe, and you know what she is. She would imagine the worst. But it couldn’t have been much worse. You … in the hands of those desperate men.”
“I don’t think Hessenfield would have let them kill me. Right from the first he saved me before …”
I was tired. I wasn’t thinking what I was saying and Harriet could always see farther than most people where human emotions were concerned.
“Hessenfield!” cried Gregory.
“Hessenfield,” repeated Benjie.
“Great heavens!” cried Harriet. “Lord Hessenfield, of course. We have met him in the old days. He was a close friend of James’s. Of course, he’s a leading Jacobite. All the Fields were hand in glove with James.”
“Fields!” I said blankly.
“The family name, dear. John—he’s the eldest of them. I remember his father before he died. My dear Carlotta, so it was Hessenfield who got General Langdon out of the Tower. Quite a feat. Typical of Hessenfield.”
John Field, I thought. He told me he was John Field. He had not lied about his name.
They were plying me with questions. I told them how I had ridden out with them and how we had stayed at a house on the coast in which we had lived for three days.
“My dear Carlotta,” said Harriet, “some of us have strange adventures. They somehow attract them. You certainly attracted one this time. Now what you want more than anything is rest, and I am going to insist that you go to bed at once. You can tell us more tomorrow. What you need is a good sleep, and I’m going to bring you some of my black currant posset. So off you go. Say good night to them and I’ll be up with the posset shortly.”
I knew Harriet. She wanted to talk and she wanted to do so more freely than she could before her son and husband.
She came to my room with the posset. By that time I was in bed. She was right, I was exhausted, and yet at the same time I knew I should not find sleep easily.
I kept thinking: This time last night I was with him. And I could not get out of my mind the memory of his face when he had kissed me good-bye.
Harriet handed me the posset and seated herself by my bed.
“Something else happened,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows to express innocence of her meaning.
“Hessenfield?” she said. “I remember him well. A fine gentleman.” She smiled. “And he saved your life. And you were with them for three days.”
I was silent.
“Do you want to tell me, Carlotta?” she asked.
“Harriet, I don’t feel I can talk about it … yet … even to you.”
She said: “I think I understand. You will tell me in time. My dear child, how glad I am to have you back. I have been terrified. … There are so many things that can happen to women in this world. But somehow I knew that you would know how to take care of yourself. You’re a natural survivor, Carlotta. I know them when I see them. I’m one myself.”
She bent over and kissed me and took the posset from my hand.
I believed she knew that Hessenfield and I had been lovers.
I could not have come to a better place in which to try to regain my composure. Gregory and Benjie were such dear, uncomplicated people. They accepted my story; they could only be thankful that I had come out of it alive. All they thought I needed was rest and feeding up a bit to make up for the discomforts I had endured.
It was different with Harriet. She knew something had happened, and being Harriet she guessed what. She understood, perhaps, and she had made in the past the acquaintance of Hessenfield. She knew how it would be with two people such as we were shut up for three days, with death hanging over us and me in their power.
But Harriet’s chief charm was that she never probed. I was aware—and my mother had discovered this too—that in any difficulty Harriet would bring out all her resources—and they were formidable—to one’s aid. But she behaved as though whatever had happened, however tremendous it might seem to other people, was in her eyes merely another piece of life. Never to be judged or condemned by others who could never see it in all its complexities. If it was good, enjoy it; if not, find a way to extricate oneself. Harriet was by no means what would be called a good woman, but she was a comforting one. She was engrossed in her own life, determined to get the best of it—and none could deny she had. She was by no means scrupulous; she was fond of the good things of life and would go to great lengths to get them. I suppose one of the comforting things about her was that one knew whatever one had done she had probably done also; she would understand the motive, and even if she didn’t she would never get lost in the devious paths of right or wrong.