The alternative was to marry Benjie. Our marriage would surprise no one. For some time our families had been hoping for it.
I was not deceiving Benjie. If he liked to put his own construction on what had happened—and I could see that nothing I could say would make him do otherwise—then I must be thankful that I was provided with such an easy solution to my dilemma.
Harriet threw all her energies into making the arrangements. My mother was going to be put out because I had married from Eyot Abbass instead of from my own home in the conventional manner. But as soon as she knew that I was pregnant she would understand. She would believe that Benjie and I had forestalled our marriage vows and that the need for the wedding was urgent.
I could imagine my grandfather’s sly smiles and my grandmother’s telling my mother that she wouldn’t be surprised if Harriet had arranged the whole thing.
We were married in the nearby church. It was a simple ceremony and it took place exactly six weeks after my meeting with Hessenfield.
I vowed to myself that I would be a good wife to Benjie, and I did make him very happy.
Harriet was delighted, and commented that nothing could have pleased her so much and that all was well that ended well. It did occur to me that this was not the end, but I said nothing. I could only feel at that time an overwhelming gratitude to them all—my husband, Harriet and dear Gregory. Eyot Abbass would now be my home.
My mother arrived the day after the wedding, for Harriet had sent a letter to her telling her of the proposed marriage.
She was indignant. She believed that I had come over with the idea of marrying Benjie and that it was some plot concocted by Harriet to arrange the marriage for me.
She suspected that Harriet, having played such a major part at the time of my birth, wanted to control my life and play the part of my true mother. To console her I told her at once that the reason for the hasty marriage was my pregnancy.
She was shocked and then confused because we all knew that I was her love child. There was nothing she could say then but wish me happiness.
“Benjie is a good man,” she said. “You must make sure you make him a good wife.”
“I shall do my best,” I promised her.
I could see that she was working it out according to the rules. When the child was born they would say it arrived prematurely. No one would believe it, but they would all pretend to.
I wanted to laugh at such conventions; but when I considered how ready I had been to fall in with them, I could hardly do that.
Shortly after my marriage Benjie and I went back to Eversleigh. Harriet came with me, so did Gregory. It was to be some sort of celebration.
“The bride is supposed to be married, from her home,” said Harriet. “You know how your mother likes to do things according to the book … except of course on very special occasions.”
My mother had her way and there was a feast and people were invited.
My sister, Damaris, thought it was all so wonderful.
“Exciting things always happen to you,” she said.
I looked at her with a kind of affectionate scorn. Dear little Damaris, the good girl. Men like Beau and Hessenfield were not for her. She would marry some young man her parents would find for her and she would be perfectly content because it was what they wanted.
The visit went well and predictably and I was rather glad when we were on our way back.
When it was suggested by Harriet that we stay at the Black Boar, Benjie protested.
“It would be unpleasant memories for Carlotta,” he said.
“In my opinion,” said Harriet, “it would be a good idea to lay the ghost.”
When she said that, I had a great desire to see it again, wanted to find out what my real feelings were. I loved Benjie. He was delighted to find me a passionate wife. I think he had thought that after my adventures I might have felt some reluctance. I surprised him. I was fond of Benjie; it could never be Beau or Hessenfield of course—he lacked entirely that buccaneering spirit—but he was virile and adoring and he offered me the balm I needed at this time. I promised myself that I was going to be happy. Hessenfield had laid the ghost of Beau and Benjie would lay that of Hessenfield.
When I said I would like to go to the Black Boar that settled it and we went.
It was strange arriving there and being greeted by the innkeeper and his wife.
The innkeeper was full of apologies to Harriet and explained to her what she knew already, that he had been so upset to have let his floor to the party of noble gentlemen. I assured him that I quite understood and reminded him that he had most kindly, to their dismay, put me into the cupboard room.
“I am overcome with shame to have offered you such a place,” he said.
“You did everything you could.”
We had the floor to ourselves. Benjie and I in the room where the General had lain. It was a strange night. I dreamed of Hessenfield, and even when I was awake I kept fancying that it was he who lay beside me, not Benjie.
The next morning before we left, Harriet and I found ourselves alone together.
“Well?” she said. “What do you think now?”
I was silent and she went on: “That place they took you to must be near here.”
“It was not very far, I suppose.”
“Do you know where?”
“Yes. I discovered when I found my way back to you. It is five miles from Lewes.” I remembered so clearly then how we had stood there while the horseman looked at us searchingly. I could smell the tang of the sea. I could remember how time seemed to stand still and how Hessenfield had waited on my words. And when I had declared myself for him and the horseman had ridden on, how he had turned to me and held me against him. I had rarely been as happy in my life as I was in that moment.
“I could find it.”
“I’d like to see it,” said Harriet.
“We could hardly go there.”
“I have a plan. Leave it to me.”
The men joined us for breakfast in the inn parlour, and as we were partaking of hot bread and bacon, Harriet said: “I have a friend who lives nearby. I should so like to see her.”
“Could you not do so?” asked Gregory, always ready to indulge her.
“It seems odd to call after so many years without warning her. I could find her place. I visited it long ago, I remember, when she married. But I should like to look her up … and surprise her.”
Gregory said: “Let us look in then. It is far out of our way?”
Harriet said it would be a good idea. Then it occurred to her that perhaps it would not be fair for us all to descend upon her. Why should she and I not go alone? We could take one of the grooms with us if they were going to protest, and she knew they would.
“Let us spend another night at the Black Boar. And Carlotta and I can go and do our little visiting. You have always said, Gregory, that you like this countryside. Now is the chance for you to explore it.”
Harriet had a gift for making people believe that what she suggested for them was exactly what they wanted for themselves, and the outcome was that later that morning she and I, with a groom in attendance, were riding out along that road which I had been taken on that memorable night.
The smell of the sea was strong that morning. There was a faint breeze which ruffled the waves and set a frothy frill on them where they rose and fell on the sand.
I saw the roof of the house and I was overcome for a moment by the power of my emotions.
“Perhaps there’s no one there,” I said.
“Let’s go and see.”
We rode down the slight incline to the house.
There was a woman in the garden.
“Good day to you,” she said. She had a basket full of roses. She looked so much at home, and when I thought of arriving at that mysteriously empty house which at the same time showed obvious signs of recent habitation, I marvelled.