I came to the spot almost before I was aware of it. There it was. The ground was rough. I went closer. It looked as though it had been recently dug up. Surely Belle had not done all that with her scratching?
I knelt down and touched the earth. It was so still all around me. I suddenly felt an irresistible desire to get away from this spot.
There is something evil here, I thought. Get away. Forget it. Don’t come here again.
I stood up and stumbled away. I did not want to search in those bushes. I felt I might find something there which I would rather not see, that I might discover something which would add to my uneasiness.
My father had been so angry. Why? And why had Elizabeth Pilkington brought Belle out on a lead? Why had she been so nervous, so full of excuses, so anxious to make me feel that what she had been doing was perfectly normal?
That afternoon Elizabeth came over to see us.
“I have to go to London,” she said. “I may be away for a week or so.”
“Is Matt going with you?” I asked quickly. I had spoken before I could stop myself.
“No,” she said. “He will stay here. Of course, he will have to go away soon.”
We talked awhile of the successful party she had given and how well staged the charades had been; but I sensed some tension even in Elizabeth. My mother’s nerves were certainly on edge.
Elizabeth left the next day.
I often think how strange it is that we have no warning of events which are going to shatter our illusions and change our lives. I had been so happy after the party. I was so sure that Matt loved me—perhaps not so intensely as I did him, but I did not expect that. Carlotta’s opinion of me, so often expressed, had so influenced me that I still saw myself as a very ordinary, rather dull and not very attractive creature who must be grateful for every crumb of affection which fell from the tables of the irresistible such as herself.
It was true that I was aware of a heightening of tension, a certain uneasiness about me which had been caused by the discovery of Belle in the trap and the dismissal of the Rooks. But unfortunate as these incidents were, they did not seem to concern me personally.
The day after Elizabeth Pilkington had left, my mother and I were in the stillroom. She had always taught me her skills in that direction and I had been a good pupil, which pleased her. She had often said: “At least I will make a housewife out of one of my daughters.” Which indicated that she had long despaired of doing so with Carlotta.
There were sounds of arrival in the courtyard. We looked at each other. We were always excited by visitors. Sometimes they came from Westminster and we loved to hear the news; but mostly they went to Eversleigh, where my grandparents and Jane could entertain them more easily, having so much more room.
But this sounded like visitors for us.
We went hastily down to the hall and my mother gave a cry of joy, for there was Carlotta herself.
Whenever I saw Carlotta after an absence I was always overwhelmed by her loveliness. She looked so beautiful in a dove-grey riding habit and a dark blue hat with a feather of a paler shade. Her eyes were sparkling blue, the colour of bluebells; there was a faint colour in her cheeks and startlingly thick black brows and lashes made such an entrancing contrast to her blue eyes. Her dark curls escaped from under the hat and she looked as young as ever. Having a child had certainly not detracted from her beauty.
“My darling child!” cried my mother.
Carlotta embraced her.
“Is Benjie with you?”
“No,” she said.
My mother looked astonished. It was unthinkable that Benjie should not travel with his young wife.
“I just wanted a few days to be with my family,” said Carlotta. “I insisted on coming alone.”
“Alone,” said my mother.
“There were of course the attendant grooms. Ah, sister Damaris.” She put her cheek against mine. “Still the same young Damaris,” she said and I immediately felt stripped of the confidence I had been acquiring over the last weeks.
“And Harriet and Gregory?” said my mother.
“All well. They send their love and greetings.”
“So you’ve come alone, Carlotta.” My mother looked worried. “What of Clarissa?”
“Clarissa is being well cared for. Have no fear of that. She is rapidly becoming a spoilt child.”
“Well, you have come and I’m delighted to see you.”
Carlotta laughed. She had a lovely laugh. Everything about her was more beautiful than I remembered. I was beginning to experience the old feeling of being plain and awkward.
“Come up to your room. Leigh will be so pleased to see you and so will they be at Eversleigh.”
“What of little Damaris? Is she pleased to see me too?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Well, I could do with a wash and I should like to change. I’ve told them to bring the bags up to my room. They will be taking them up now.”
My mother slipped her arm through Carlotta’s.
“It is wonderful to see you, darling,” she said.
I stayed with my sister to unpack.
She had some beautiful dresses. She had always understood what became her most. I remember the scenes we had had with Sally Nullens and old Emily Philpots over clothes. Once Carlotta took off a red sash and threw it out of the window because she insisted on having a blue one. One body’s work, they said Carlotta was. “Give me a good child like little Damaris.”
I hung up her dresses for her while she stretched on the bed watching me.
“Do you know,” she said, “you’ve changed. Has anything happened?”
“N-no.”
“You don’t sound very sure whether anything has happened or not.”
“Well, nothing very much. Elizabeth Pilkington gave a lovely party a little while ago. We did charades. I was Queen Elizabeth.”
Carlotta burst out laughing.
“My dear Damaris. You! Oh, how I should have loved to see you.”
“They said I did very well,” I replied somewhat nettled.
“What were you doing?”
“Raleigh and the cloak.”
“Oh, I see, and you most regally walked on it.”
“Elizabeth did my dress and my hair. She’s been an actress you know … like Harriet. They can do such wonderful things with ordinary people.”
“She must be a miracle worker if she could turn you into Queen Elizabeth. Who was Raleigh? I’m trying to think of someone round here. I suppose they were all from these parts.”
“Oh, yes. It was Elizabeth’s son—Matt.”
“What fun!” she said languidly. “I should have come earlier.”
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“All right? What do you mean?”
“With you … and Benjie.”
“Of course it’s all right. He’s my husband. I’m his wife.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean …”
“Benjie is an indulgent husband … which is what all husbands should be.”
“I’m sure he’s very happy, Carlotta. Now he has you and dear little Clarissa. How can you bear to leave her?”
“I bear it with amazing fortitude,” she said, her lips curling. “You’re still the same sentimental Damaris. Not grown up yet. Things are not always what they seem, dear sister. I just wanted to get away for a while. That’s how it is at times. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”
“It doesn’t sound as if you are very happy, Carlotta.”
“You’re such a babe, Damaris. What’s happiness? An hour or so … a day if you’re lucky. Sometimes you can say to yourself, ‘I’m happy now … now.’ And you want to cling to now and make it forever. But now becomes then in a very short time. That’s happiness. You can’t have it all the time and when you think back to when you did you’re just sad thinking of it, so that happiness has really deserted you.”