Lament for a Lost Lover (2 page)

My mother was delighted with her and said that we could count ourselves fortunate to be blessed with Miss Black. Lucas and I used to call her the “Blessing” behind her back. We wouldn’t have dared do so to her face, for we were extremely in awe of her.

There were long, dreamy summer days. Whenever I hear the cackle of a hen or sniff the pungent odour of goats and pigs, I am transported right back to those days at Congrève which I now realize were some of the most peaceful I was ever to know. I used to think sometimes that they would go on forever and ever and we should all grow old waiting for the King to regain his throne.

The sun seemed always to shine and the days never seemed long enough and I was always supreme. I led the games, which were usually playacting because that was what
I
preferred. I was Cleopatra, Boadicea and Queen Elizabeth, nor was I averse to changing my sex if the leading character did not belong to my own. Poor Lucas protested now and then, but as I was always the one who decided what games we should play, I demanded the major role. I can remember Dick and Angie wailing: “Oh, I am tired of being a slave.” Poor little things—they were so much younger than Lucas and I were that we considered it was a privilege for them to be allowed to enter our games at all.

The great adventure was evading the earnest Miss Black, who had a trick of turning any adventure into a lesson, which did not please any of us. Our existence was one long attempt to avoid her. Yet we were fond of her in a way; she was part of our lives; she constantly told us that everything that was unpleasant was for our own good, and I could imitate her precise manner in such a way that sent the others nearly hysterical with laughter.

It was really due to Miss Black that I began to fancy myself as an actress. That must have been particularly hard for my family to endure, for I would learn passages from Shakespeare by heart and inflict my histrionics on my long-suffering brothers and sister.

We forgot during the long summer days that we were exiles. We were pirates, courtiers, soldiers, participating in glorious adventures, and I, delighting in my superior years, ordered their lives.

“You should sometimes stand aside and let Lucas take the lead,” Miss Black used to say, but I never took her advice.

So the years passed; now and then my parents would be with us. They were times of rejoicing. But then they would go away, very often out of France, for the King was in Cologne most of the time and where he was they must be.

Sometimes during their brief stays at Congrève I used to listen to their talk over the dinner table when Lucas and I were allowed to join them. There would always be some scheme for taking the King back to his rightful place. The people were tiring of Puritan rule. They were remembering the old days of the Monarchy. “Soon now …” they used to say. But still it failed to happen, and life at Château Congrève pursued its pleasant way. We would all be melancholy after our parents had left, then some new game would absorb us and we would forget them and forget about going home. The days of exile were sweet enough, and we were soon back to the old game of outwitting that lovable bogey, Miss Black.

One morning Miss Black did not appear. She was found dead in her bed. She had died during the night of a stroke. And instantly, it was said, so she suffered no pain. She had died as discreetly as she had lived, and she was buried in the cemetery close to the
château,
and every Sunday we would take flowers to her grave. We could not inform her relatives even if she had any, for all we knew was that they were in England and naturally we could do nothing about that.

We talked about her a great deal; we missed her sadly. Not to have to escape from her, not to poke gentle fun at her made a great gap in our lives. Once I caught Lucas crying because she wasn’t there anymore, and after accusing him of being a crybaby I found myself weeping with him.

When my parents came to the
château
and heard of the death of Miss Black, they were horrified.

“The little ones must not miss their lessons,” said my mother. “We cannot have them growing up ignorant. My dearest Arabella, it is up to you to make sure that this does not happen. You must teach them as Miss Black would have done until we can find another governess, which I fear will not be easy.”

I enjoyed my new role, and I was soon flattering myself that the children’s education had not suffered as much as my parents feared. I was playing a part and I believed I did it very well.

It was a dark winter’s afternoon when the strolling players arrived. The wind had started to howl in from the north, and when it did that it buffeted the walls of the
château
and seemed to creep in through every aperture and discover those which we had not known were there before. In the centre of the hall we had an open fire. The
château
was very primitive and couldn’t have changed much since the days when the Normans settled in these parts and built their stone-walled fortresses, of which this was one. I used to imagine the tall blond Vikings clanking into the hall and sitting round this fire telling stories of their wild adventures.

It was afternoon, but so dark because of the snow clouds, when we were startled by a clatter in the courtyard and the sound of horses.

As the
châtelaine
of the castle, very much aware of her position, I summoned Jacques, our only manservant, to discover what was happening.

He looked a little uneasy, and memories far back in my childhood were stirred. I was reminded of the terror at Far Flamstead when we feared the Roundhead soldiers might pay us a call, and if they did we knew they would take our food, our horses, and if our homes were grand they would destroy them because they did not believe that anyone should have fine clothes or luxurious surroundings. The believed that people could only be good if they were uncomfortable.

But then we were not in England, and in any case the war was over and I supposed people now lived peacefully in their homes even in England, and probably enjoyed their comforts in secret if they could manage to.

Jacques came back into the hall. He looked excited.

“It’s a party of strolling players,” he told me. “They’re asking for a night’s shelter and they’ll do a play for us in return for their supper.”

I understood Jacques’ excitement and I shared it.

“But of course,” I cried. “Tell them they are welcome. Bring them in.”

Lucas had come down, and I whispered to him what was happening. “They will play for us!” he whispered. “We shall see a real play!”

There were eight of them—three women and five men. They were heavily wrapped up against the weather, and their leader was a middle-aged man, bearded, thick-set and of medium height.

He took off his hat when he saw me and bowed low. He had laughing eyes which almost disappeared when he smiled.

“A merry good day to you,” he said. “Is the master of the house at home … or perhaps the mistress?”

“I am the mistress of this house,” I replied.

He looked surprised at my youth and accent.

“Then whom have I the honour of addressing?”

“Arabella Tolworthy,” I answered. “I am English. My parents are with our King, and I with my brother”—I indicated Lucas—“and other members of the family are staying here until we return to England.”

His surprise was over. It was not such an unusual situation.

“My request is that we may have a night’s shelter,” he explained. “We should have travelled to the nearest town but the weather is too bad. I doubt we should reach it before the snow comes. I and my troupe would pay you well with rich entertainment for a little food and a place to lie down … anywhere … just shelter from the weather.”

“You are welcome,” I said. “You must be our guests and we would not ask for payment, but I confess the thought of seeing you play gives us a great deal of pleasure.”

He laughed. He had loud, booming laughter.

“Beautiful lady,” he cried, “we are going to play before you as we never played before.”

The children had heard the arrivals and came running down. Lucas told them that the visitors were players and were going to play for us. Dick leaped high in the air as he always did when excited, and Angie joined him while young Fenn kept asking questions, trying to find out what it was all about.

“Bring everyone in,” I cried, taking command of the situation, glowing with pleasure at having been called a beautiful lady and pleased as ever to show my authority as the
châtelaine
of the castle.

They came. They seemed to fill the hall. Their eyes gleamed at the sight of the fire and I bade them to come and warm themselves.

There was a middle-aged woman, who could have been the wife of the leader, and another whom I judged to be in her late twenties … and Harriet Main. Three of the men were bordering on middle age and there were two younger ones. One of these appeared to be very handsome, but they were so wrapped up that I saw little of their faces, and when I had brought them to the fire, I said I would go and see what food we could give them.

I went to the kitchen and saw our two maids, Marianne and Jeanne, who had been bequeathed to us with Jacques to look after our needs and were all we had.

When I told them what had happened they were gleeful. “Players!” cried Marianne, who was older than Jeanne, “Oh, we are in for some fun. How long is it since we had players call here? They usually go only to the big houses and castles.”

“The weather has brought them to us,” I said. “What can we give them?”

Jeanne and Marianne would put their heads together. I could rest assured, they said, that the eight players would be adequately fed and might they come to see the play?

I readily gave my permission. We would ask the Lambards in to see it too. Our audience would be very small even so.

I went back to the group in the hall. That was the first time I really saw Harriet. She had thrown off her cloak and was stretching her hands out to the fire. Even crouching over the fire as she was I could see that she was tall. Her thick, dark, curling hair released from the hood had sprung out to give a beautiful frame to her pale face. I noticed her eyes immediately. They were dark blue, rather long; mysterious, concealing eyes, I thought them; and their thick, dark eyelashes were immediately noticeable, as were her heavy black brows contrasting with her pale skin. Her lips were richly red, and it was only later that I discovered that she used a lip salve to make them so. Her forehead was higher than is usual and her chin pointed. So many people look alike that you see them once and don’t remember them. No one could ever have looked at Harriet Main and forgotten her.

I found I was staring at her; she noticed this and it amused her; I expected she was accustomed to it.

She astonished me by saying: “I’m English.” She held out her hand to me. I took it and for a few moments we looked at each other. I felt she was summing me up.

“I have not been long with the troupe,” she said, speaking in English. “We are on our way to Paris where we shall play to big audiences … but we call at houses on our way and play for our lodging.”

“You are welcome,” I said. “We have never had a troupe call before. We are all looking forward to seeing you play for us and will do our best to make you comfortable. This is not a grand place as you see. We are exiles and here only until the King returns.”

She nodded.

Then she turned to the players and said in rapid French that I was sympathetic and they must all give of their best this night as that was being given to us.

I had decided that as soon as the potage was hot they should eat, so I summoned them to the table and the great steaming dish was brought in. The contents soon disappeared, and while they ate I was able to take stock of our guests, who were all colourful and all spoke in resonant voices, giving great importance to the most trivial comment.

The leader of the troupe and his wife made much of the children, who were overcome with excitement.

Then the snow started to fall, and Monsieur Lamotte, the leader, declared that it was fortunate indeed that they had come upon Castle Plenty in good time. I was apologetic about Castle Plenty, and, as I pointed out to them, we were so unaccustomed to guests that I feared we could not entertain them as we would wish.

How exciting their conversation seemed. They talked of their plays and their parts and the places in which they had played, and it seemed to us all listening that an actor’s life must be the most rewarding in the world. Jeanne and Marianne, with Jacques, came and stood in the hall listening to the conversation which seemed to grow more and more sparkling as time progressed. I sent Jacques to tell the Lambards that they must come over to see the play. He came back and told me how excited they were at the prospect.

Harriet was less talkative than the others. I saw her looking around the hall as though judging it—comparing it I suspected with other places in which she had lived. Then I would find her eyes on me, watching me intently.

She was seated next to the very handsome young man—whom they called Jabot. I thought he was a little conceited because he always seemed to demand attention. When Angie went to him and, placing her hands on his knees, looked up in adoration at his face and said: “You
are
pretty,” everyone laughed, and Jabot was so delighted that he picked her up and kissed her. Poor little Angie, overcome with shyness, immediately wriggled free and ran out of the hall, but she came back to stand some distance away where she could not take her eyes from Jabot.

“Another admirer for you, my boy,” said Madame Lamotte, and everybody laughed.

Fleurette, the other female player, her lips tightening I noticed, said: “We must tell the little one that Jabot is constant to none.”

Harriet shrugged her shoulders and replied: “That is a commonplace,” then she started to sing in a deep rich voice:

“Sigh no more ladies,

Men were deceivers ever …”

And everyone laughed.

They sat a long time at the table and I went into consultation with Jeanne and Marianne. We must give them supper after the play, which was to take place at six o’clock, and we must make sure it was a good supper. What could we do?