“What a strange way to talk.”
“I’d forgotten. You, dear Damaris, wouldn’t see it my way. You don’t ask for much. I hope you get what you want. Sometimes I think people like you are the lucky ones. It’s easy for you to get what you want because you don’t ask for the impossible. And when you’ve got it you just go on believing it’s happiness. Lucky Damaris.”
She was in a strange mood. I thought of her sitting on the cliff looking out to sea as though she were dreaming of the past and longing for it to come back.
My mother had said that Matt must come over to us whenever he wished while his mother was away. She would not issue formal invitations. He was to consider himself one of the family.
“That’s easy,” he said. “I think I already do.”
Words to set my spirits soaring.
That day my mother had been busy in the kitchens preparing everything that she knew Carlotta liked to eat. She looked better than she had for some time and I knew it was due to the pleasure of having Carlotta home.
About half an hour before we were about to sit down to dinner, Matt arrived.
I was in the hall alone when he came. He took my hands and kissed them. Then he bowed low, which he had done since we had played Elizabeth and Raleigh. It was a little joke between us.
“It is so pleasant to come here,” he said. “Grasslands seems empty without my mother.”
“You are well looked after there, I hope.”
He touched my cheeks caressingly. “I am absolutely cosseted. But I assure you I do appreciate being allowed to come here.”
At that moment Carlotta appeared at the top of the stairs.
Matt looked up at her and kept looking. I heard his quick intake of breath. I wasn’t altogether surprised that he should be overwhelmed by Carlotta’s beauty. Most people were, and I felt that pride in her which I had always felt when people met her for the first time and were startled by her outstanding looks.
She was wearing a simple blue gown with a long-waisted bodice and elbow-length sleeves with frills of lace at the edge of them. It was cut rather low and was close fitting and accentuated her tiny trim waist. It was laced in the front to show her undergown of a lighter shade of blue. The skirt was long with side panniers. Not an elaborate gown but I had often thought that the more simply Carlotta was dressed the greater impact her beauty had. I was wearing green—a colour I think which suited me as well as any. It gave more colour to my eyes; and I had taken more pains with my appearance since the coming of Matt. Mine was a pretty dress with a laced bodice showing a pale pink undergown, and my sleeves had matching pink frills at the edges. But I had always had the feeling that anything I wore would look homely beside Carlotta’s simplest gown.
It seemed to me that there was a long silence while they looked at each other and that Carlotta was as taken aback as Matt was. Then she came slowly down the stairs.
“This is my sister, Carlotta,” I said.
Her eyes seemed enormous and brilliant. She was looking at him as though she could not believe he was real.
She walked towards us—it seemed to me very slowly but perhaps that was my imagination, because everything seemed to have slowed down. Even the clock in the hall seemed to pause between its ticks.
Carlotta was smiling. She held out a hand. Matt took it and kissed it.
She gave a little laugh. “Damaris,” she said. “You haven’t introduced me.”
“Oh,” I stammered. “This is Matt … Matt Pilkington, whose mother has taken Grasslands Manor.”
“Matt Pilkington,” she said, keeping her eyes on him. “Oh, yes, of course, I have heard of you. Tell me, what do you think of Grasslands?”
He began to talk rather fast about Grasslands and how his mother had fallen in love with it the moment she had seen it. She had gone to London. He did not know how long she would be. He hoped Carlotta would have a long stay here. He had heard so much about her from Damaris.
“I believe you have seen a lot of my family … and my little sister,” said Carlotta, and I immediately stepped back into that niche from which my friendship with Matt had helped me emerge.
“They have been so good to me,” he said.
My mother came into the hall. “Oh, Matt,” she said, “how nice to see you.”
“I have taken advantage of your invitation to call in when I’m lonely,” he said.
“And right glad I am that you have. You see, I have my other daughter with me now.” She went to Carlotta and slipped her arm through hers. Then she reached for my hand to show me that I must not feel that I was left out. But I did feel it. And I went on feeling it through the days that followed.
I had become accustomed to seeing the effect Carlotta had on men. It had always been the same from the time when I was first aware of her; it did not matter who they were. I had often heard the story of how she had charmed Robert Frinton, who had left her his fortune; and even my grandfather was not immune to her charm.
What was so amazing about it was that she did it effortlessly. She said what she pleased and she never went out of her way to impress or attract. It was some charm, some magnetism, which flowed from her.
Emily Philpots had hinted that she was a witch. There had been times when I could believe it.
During that first meal she dominated the table. She had been to London recently and had all the Court news. She was aware of what the Duke of Marlborough was doing on the Continent and how the war was progressing; she talked of the new book Daniel Defoe had written: The Shortest Way with Dissenters, or Proposals for the Establishment of the Church. “Such a brilliant satire on the intolerance of the Church party,” she commented. She talked blithely of the Whigs and the Tories and was apparently on terms of friendship with some of the leading men of affairs.
This made her conversation racy and amusing. She sparkled and became even more beautiful every minute.
My mother said: “But how can you do all this? You have your household now you are married. What of Benjie and Clarissa?”
“Oh, Eyot Abbass was never like it is here, you know,” said Carlotta, somehow relegating our household to the category of boring dullness. “Harriet was never one to concern herself with domestic affairs and the men of the family were brought up to understand and like it that way. Benjie goes to London when I want to. As for Clarissa, we have an excellent nurse and a very good little nursery maid. Clarissa doesn’t need more than that.”
“Why on earth didn’t Benjie come with you?”
“I wanted to come alone. I was longing to have a glimpse of you all. You have been telling me in your letters how Damaris has grown up, emerging from her shell like a baby chicken. I wanted to see my little sister on the brink of womanhood.”
So the conversation went on, dominated all the time by Carlotta.
I was glad when the evening was over. Matt left to ride over to Grasslands and I retired to my room.
I was brushing my hair when there was a rap on the door. It was Carlotta.
She came in smiling.
“It’s nice to be home, Damaris,” she said.
“Don’t you find it rather dull?” I asked.
“Quiet … but it’s what I wanted … for a while.”
I went on brushing. I said slowly: “You get tired of things quickly, Carlotta.”
“I don’t think I would if …”
“If what?”
“Never mind. He’s an interesting young man, this Matt Pilkington, do you think?”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
“The son of that actress. I can’t remember what she looks like now. I saw her when I showed her round the house. Has she got a lot of red hair?”