Lament for a Lost Lover (11 page)

I was shifting uneasily on my chair, feeling embarrassed and a little angry that my affairs should be discussed in this way.

“Then it came,” went on Harriet. “The play was
so
romantic. Juliet and Romeo were the great lovers of all time. She thought it would be rather charming for the two who everyone was hoping would want to make a match of it should play the parts together.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“What could I say? I caught something in her eye. I think Charlotte had been carrying tales. I had an idea that if I refused she would have made it impossible for me to stay here. She is a very ungrateful woman. She has already forgotten that I have prevented her house party’s being a tiresome bore. The fact is she doesn’t want me to play love scenes with Edwin and she thinks you and he should. It will be a little practice for you.”

“Well, I think it’s all rather sordid. What are we going to do?”

“You’ll have to play Juliet, and the way you’ll play it I should think would be deterrent rather than a spur to love.”

“There are times,” I said, “when you are insufferable. I do believe you think no one is of the least account but yourself.”

I was thinking of Edwin then; his tender look, his easy smile, his tall, lean body and his rather sleepy brown eyes. I was in love with Edwin. My parents and his wanted us to marry. How could
I
feel incensed because Harriet had been robbed of her part? I was glad. I would play Juliet. Edwin and I would spend hours rehearsing together. I should be with him all the time. I had been a little bored with Lady Capulet.

I must confess that I admired Harriet. I knew what a blow it was to her. Naturally as the professional actress she had wanted the main part and should have had it. But after her outburst to me, she determined not to show her anger.

She called us all together and explained that some parts would be changed. She herself had too much to do stage-managing so she was not going to play Juliet after all. She thought I could do the part. She herself would take over the Nurse which was a really big role. They would see that this would mean a little change here and there.

I looked at Edwin, wondering if he would mind.

He smiled at me with that lovely tender smile, and taking my hand kissed it as Harriet had taught him to do in the part.

“You will find me lacking,” he warned.

“As you will find me.”

“I can’t believe that.”

He pressed my hand warmly. I was so happy. Then I remembered what he had said about accepting what was offered him and reconciling himself to it. But I was sure he was pleased to play the lover with me.

As for myself, I kept thinking of what Lady Eversleigh had said to Harriet. Our parents wanted us to marry.
I
wanted us to marry. Everything now depended on Edwin.

They were enchanted days for me. I was with Edwin a great deal. We learned our words. I knew his off by heart and constantly prompted him. It was not difficult for us to play at lovers, and I began to think that he was in love with me as I was with him.

It seemed strange that the theme of the play was the feud between two families and that the lovers loved and sought to marry in spite of this, while with us it was entirely the opposite. Our parents had put us together that we might fall in love.

And we have! We have! I wanted to sing. I loved the way he said:

“It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, …”

He added once: “I know what he means by that. The brightness of the day only comes to him when Juliet is there.”

“Of course a little while ago he was in love with someone else,” I pointed out. “Do you think he would have been true to Juliet if he had married her?”

“I am sure he would,” he answered.

“Otherwise,” I added, “it would all seem so pointless.”

“Life can sometimes be pointless, but let’s assume he would have been faithful unto death. Which he was … anyway.”

“He had scarcely time to be anything else.”

Edwin was so ready to laugh. He imbued our rehearsals with a sense of hilarity and I threw myself into it wholeheartedly.

I had never been happy like that at any time in my life.

Because I enjoyed the closeness of Edwin, the touch of his hands, the ardour in his voice when he embraced me, I knew that I wanted him as my husband. Before Harriet had come, I might have been a little ignorant of the relationship between men and women; but since she had come, I had learned much of these things. I had read my mother’s journal and she had said when she showed it to me that I was like her, which meant that I would not shrink from the physical aspect of love as some women like my Aunt Angelet had.

I knew that I wanted to make love with Edwin and that I should not lie shrinking in my marriage bed.

I loved the scene in the gallery when Juliet and Romeo are together and morning has come and he must leave her.

I savoured the words:

“Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day:

It was the nightingale and not the lark, …”

And Romeo answers:

“It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:

Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.”

We did the scene again and again. It was his favourite too, he told me, although he hated leaving me.

“It’s only a play,” I told him, laughing.

“Sometimes I feel I am not acting at all,” he answered. “I can’t be, because I am sure I should be the world’s worst actor, and I fancy I cut quite a dash as Romeo.” Harriet was very critical of us when we rehearsed together. She was trying to make the Nurse the great part in the play now, and I must say she did it superbly. Although she could not look the part. Sometimes I think she did not intend to. She wanted everyone to say she should have taken Juliet.

But rehearsing was great fun and Harriet was superb. Lucas had now become Paris, the husband chosen for Juliet by her parents, and he played it better than I had expected he possibly could.

He told me that he had never enjoyed anything so much as this visit. “And it is all due to Harriet,” he added. Then he frowned. “She did not tell of her coming as it really happened.” He adored her and did not like to think she had disguised the truth. Then he smiled and added: “Harriet is by nature an actress and I think that she cannot stop herself playing a part.”

I could see that Lucas was growing up.

The day before the play was to be performed there was intense excitement throughout the
château.
We should have a considerable audience, for Lady Eversleigh had filled the place to its utmost capacity and because of the play she was inviting all those who were near enough to come. If necessary she said they could sleep on the floor of the great hall. It would not be the first time this had been done.

We had been through our dress rehearsal the previous day and I had thoroughly enjoyed it. I had always amused the children by imitating Miss Black, and I remembered how Dick and Angie had rolled about in mirth. I had been dressed up once and played the part of a robber who had come to the
château
to kidnap us all. I had so frightened the children that they had been nervous for weeks, and I realized I had been foolish, but at the same time I had played my part with conviction. And now I was determined to make a success of Juliet not only because I loved playing to Edwin’s Romeo but I wanted to convince Harriet that, although I might not give such a spectacular performance as she would have done, I was a tolerable actress.

Of course Harriet had her own special magic, and I could see that when she was on the stage even in a part such as that of the Nurse, everyone wanted to look at her all the time. She knew her words to perfection; she gave me a rather supercilious glance now and then, and I had the impression that she was almost hoping I should forget my lines. The scenes between the Nurse and Juliet were longer than they had been, for when she was to play the part she had extended them and they were there almost in their entirety. I could feel her eyes on my Juliet cap which she herself had longed to wear. I had the feeling that all the time she was resisting an impulse to snatch it off.

The great day came. Harriet had said that there would be no more rehearsing. What we must do now was to put the play from our minds. We had had the dress rehearsal, which had gone off fairly well; all we could do now was wait for the night.

I laughed at her and said she took it all too seriously. We were not professional players whose livelihood depended on our performance.

I walked in the gardens and Edwin joined me.

He asked me if I were nervous about the play. “It’s only a game really,” I said. “If we forget our lines everyone will laugh, and it will probably be greater fun than if we play like professionals, which we can’t in any case because we are not.”

“My mother is hoping to make an announcement tonight,” he said.

My heart began to beat faster and I waited expectantly, but he went on:

“She is hoping Charles is going to ask Charlotte to marry him in time for her to come onto the stage when the play is over and tell the company of the betrothal.” He frowned. “I am a little anxious,” he added.

“Why?”

“Charles has changed. I think poor Charlotte knows this. Have you noticed the difference in her?”

“I thought she seemed a little sad. But then I don’t know her very well and she has never seemed lively.”

“Charlotte has always been like that … the opposite of her brother. She is serious-minded and hides her feelings. But I don’t think she is very happy now.”

“Does she want to marry Charles or would it be one of those arranged marriages?”

“She wants it fervently, or did, and he seemed eager. But lately it has changed.”

I thought: Since we came. It is obvious Charles has fallen in love with Harriet. Oh, poor Charlotte. She must be wishing she had never set eyes on us.

“Perhaps I’m wrong,” said Edwin, and then characteristically, “I’m sure I am. There’ll be an announcement tonight, you’ll see. After all it’s what he came here for.”

He took my arm and pressed it. I was very happy then.

“Do you know,” he went on. “I fancy that before long I shall have to go away.”

“To join your father?”

“No … to England.”

“That would be dangerous.”

“I should not go in my own name. We would cross the Channel in secret and land in some lonely spot and we should be wearing somber clothes so that we looked exactly like everyone else. I am to spy out the land to meet those whom we know to be Royalists, to see what the mood of the people is … to pave the way for the King’s return.”

“When?”

“I am waiting now to hear. Messengers could come any day with a command for me to leave at once.”

“Not before the performance tonight!”

He laughed. “Oh, no fear of that. What a tragedy! Do you think the play would be impossible without me?”

“Where should I find another Romeo?”

He turned to me and smiled very tenderly, I thought. “You would find one,” he said, “much more worthy than I.”

“After all this rehearsing!”

He looked away almost uneasily. “It won’t be like that, I’m sure. We shall no doubt be given several weeks’ warning. We would have to make ready. It is a matter which will have to be very carefully planned … and rehearsed, far more carefully than
Romeo and Juliet
.”

“I suppose so.”

He took my hand. “Why, you are really concerned.”

“I don’t like the idea of your being in danger.”

He bent towards me and kissed my cheek. “Dear Arabella,” he said. “How good and sweet you are. I wish …” I waited and he went on: “There is no real danger if we are careful. We shall be in our own country, and after my recent experience as an actor, I shall know how to play a Puritan completely satisfied with the rule of the country, and we shall be going to those whom we know will be our friends. So, there is no need for anxiety.”

“Do you really think the people want the King to come back?”

“It is what we have to find out. If they do then he will go, but unless the people are behind him, he hasn’t a chance.”

“You know him well, do you?”

“As well as most know Charles. The perfect companion, merry, witty, never serious. One can never be sure if he means what he says.”

“You mean … unreliable.”

“Perhaps, but I never knew a man with greater charm.”

“Maybe his charm is due to his royalty.”

“Not entirely. But that could be part of it. Everyone is prepared to love a king, and if he gives them reason to, well then the love is so much greater. Oh, I am sure we shall be back soon, Arabella. What a day that will be when we set foot on our native soil!”

“I wonder what we shall find.”

He touched my cheek lightly and said: “For that we must wait and see.”

We talked then of England as we remembered it, and because I was with Edwin it was the gay things I remembered. When I was with him I could share his outlook on life. Everything was pleasant; if it was not, one shut one’s eyes to it and refused to acknowledge its existence. It seemed a good way of living.

The play was to be performed at six o’clock and after that there was to be a feast in the dining hall. The audience’s seats would be hastily removed and the old trestle tables set up and the food all ready in the kitchen would be brought in. With great ingenuity and with the help of some of the grooms, Harriet had arranged that a portion of the hall at the side of the dais should be curtained off, and there the actors would await the appropriate moment to step nimbly onto the dais and play their parts. Charlotte was to be in the hidden section with a sheaf of papers to prompt those who forgot their lines. I was very conscious of Charlotte. She was trying to be bright and not quite managing it, and she looked mournful in repose. I knew it was because of Charles Condey and I felt guilty because I also knew that his feeling for Charlotte had grown lukewarm since Harriet had bewitched him. I was angry with Harriet. She should be ashamed, for it was clear that she had no deep feelings for Charles Condey.