I put up a hand and touched his. “Oh, Benjie,” I said. “I wish I were … better. I wish I were good enough for you.”
That made him laugh. He knelt down and buried his face in my lap.
I caressed his hair.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s that devil … Clarissa’s father. I understand it, Carlotta. I understand it perfectly. You mustn’t blame yourself for that. You could do nothing else … You had to save yourself. Don’t think I should ever reproach you for that. Besides, there is Clarissa.”
“I do love you, Benjie,” I said. “I do. I do.”
Another shock awaited me next day.
It was morning. Clarissa was having a riding lesson. She was very young of course, but Benjie had bought her a tiny Shetland pony and she was allowed to ride round the paddock on a leading rein. She loved it and talked endlessly of “Shets,” her pony, with wild accounts of how he talked to her and what fun they had together, creating the most impossible adventures in which they were supposed to have shared.
I came down to the hall and Harriet appeared at the door of the winter parlour.
“We have a visitor, Carlotta,” she said.
My heart began to pound. For a moment I feared that Hessenfield had been foolhardy enough to call on us.
I went into the parlour.
Matt Pilkington rose from his chair and came forward to take my hand.
I felt the blood rush to my face.
“Why …” I stammered. “I … I had not expected …”
“I am staying at the Fiddlers Rest for a few nights,” he said.
The Fiddlers Rest was an old inn about a mile from Eyot Abbass.
“I felt,” he went on, “that I could not be so close and not call to see how you were.”
I heard myself say: “It … it is a long time.”
Harriet said: “I am just going to the kitchens to tell them to bring some wine. You can talk to our guest while I am gone, Carlotta.”
And she left us.
He said: “I had to come, Carlotta. I almost have many times but …”
“Perhaps it would have been better not to,” I replied.
“Have you seen Damaris?” he asked.
“Yes, I have recently returned from a visit to Eversleigh. It is the first time since …”
“How was she?”
“She was very ill, you know. Some mysterious fever which has changed her. She is more or less an invalid.”
He was silent and stared for a moment at the floor.
“I have told myself so often that I could never forgive myself. Nor can I,” he said at length. “And yet … and yet … I know that if I could go back it would be the same. I have thought of you constantly. I can never be happy again without you …”
“Please,” I interrupted, “I do not want to listen. You see me here. I have a husband … I have a child.”
He said: “You had a husband … you had a child when …”
“I know. There is something wicked about me. I am selfish. I am impulsive … I do things which hurt others and myself and I do them recklessly. I am trying now to live a better life. You must go away, Matt. You should never have come.”
“I had to, Carlotta. I was afraid to call here … but I had to talk to you again. I saw you yesterday …”
“Where?” I cried.
“It was … near the house and I saw you ride in. It was in the late afternoon … and once I had seen you again that was enough.”
“Listen to me, Matt,” I said, “that which was between us is over now. It was a momentary madness on both sides. It was wrong … it was wicked. I blame myself. Damaris loved you … and to find us as she did … She was out all that night, you know, in that dreadful storm. They were frantic … searching for her. She would have died if her father had not found her when he did, and it was our fault, Matt. We could have killed her. That is enough. We must never meet again. I am selling Enderby Hall. I can never bear to go into the place again. Nor could Damaris I am sure … although she is unable to. We visited Eversleigh and she had to be helped in. Imagine that! Damaris, who used to ride everywhere on old Tomtit. It is unbearable. The only way we can endure it is to try to forget.”
Harriet came back.
“They are bringing the wine,” she said. “Now tell us what you have been doing since you left Grasslands. I suppose you are on leave from the army. I remember that you were a soldier. I suppose everyone is being pressed into service now with all these glorious battles on the Continent.”
“Yes,” he said. “I am on leave.”
“And you will soon be rejoining your regiment, I suppose. I hope Marlborough will soon be bringing this silly old war to its conclusion.”
“Let us hope so,” said Matt.
“And how is your mother?”
“She is well, thank you.”
“And happily settled in London, I hope, after her brief taste of the country.”
“Yes, I think the town suits her best.”
Harriet sighed. “The town has so much to offer. Does she go to the theatre often?” She turned to me, for she seemed to have realised that I was unusually silent. “Do you know, the theatres are not flourishing in France. Madame de Maintenon is making poor old Louis quite pious. He is repenting in his old age. He has closed most of the theatres. As if that will ensure him a place in heaven! He will not win this war, I promise you. The best way to court defeat is to close the theatres.”
“Oh, Harriet,” I said with a forced laugh, “what extraordinary reasoning!”
“Oh, yes, my dear, it is so. People need cheering—especially in wartime—and the best way to depress them is to take away their divertissements. Do you agree?” She smiled at Matt.
“I am sure you are right,” he said.
“Of course I am,” she cried. “The people were delighted to welcome back King Charles because they were so tired of Puritan rule. I remember well the rejoicing when the good old days came back. Mind you, I was very young at the time …”
“Of course you were, Harriet,” I soothed.
“I wonder if your mother remembers when we played together. It was in The Country Wife, I believe.”
“Yes,” said Matt, “she has mentioned it.”
“I left the theatre soon after that. But once an actress, always an actress. I confess the sight of the footlights can never fail to thrill me.”
So the talk went on and I believe neither Matt nor I listened.
When he took his leave Harriet asked him when he expected to arrive in London.
He replied that he might stay at the Fiddlers Rest for a day or so. He liked the inn, and the surrounding country was very attractive. He had a few days to spare. He liked to walk and ride in the country.
“Call and see us again if you wish to,” said Harriet.
“Oh, thank you,” he said.
We were not alone again but I knew by the fervent look in his eyes that he would return to Eyot Abbass.
It was later that day when Jane Farmer came to me with considerable apprehension. She wanted to know if Clarissa was with me.
I was surprised. Clarissa was usually in the garden at this time. She rested in the afternoon. It was something Jane had insisted on, although Clarissa was inclined to rebel. However, Jane was always firm and Clarissa had come to the conclusion that it was wiser to obey her.
“I was sitting in the summer house,” said Jane, “with my sewing, as I always do, and she was playing nearby with her shuttlecock. She was batting it up and down and was calling out now and then as she always does; and then suddenly I realised there was no sound. I immediately put down my sewing and went to look. I couldn’t see her anywhere. I presumed she had come in to see you.”