Lament for a Lost Lover (30 page)

Jasper was never very far away. He was teaching them to jump. He sat straightbacked on old Brewster, who was grey and had a dour look to match Jasper’s own.

How glad I was of Jasper that morning because for some reason Edwin’s pony decided to bolt. I felt my heart stop and then start to pound away at such a rate that it seemed as though it would choke me.

Time slowed down and minutes seemed to pass, though it could only be seconds while I saw the pony bolting for the hedge and Edwin, who had somehow slipped off his back, managing to cling round his neck. I expected him to fall at any moment.

Oh, God, I thought. He is going to be killed. I am going to lose my son as I lost my husband.

I ran, ineffectually, I knew, for the child would be thrown before I could possibly reach him.

But Jasper was there. He had halted the pony, had leaped to the ground and was disengaging Edwin from the pony’s neck and had him in his arms.

I was panting, feeling lighthearted with relief, wanting to promise Jasper anything he asked, for nothing could repay him for what he did.

“’Tis all right, mistress,” he said.

Edwin was laughing. I thanked God for the sound of that laughter. Then he was concerned, for he had seen my face. What it looked like I could not imagine. I was clearly white and shaken.

Edwin said: “It’s all right, Mama. I haven’t hurt my coat. My cap though …”

It was on the ground where it had dropped off his head. Jasper put him down and he immediately retrieved it.

He looked a little distressed. “It’s a bit dirty, Mama. Never mind. Sally will clean it.”

I felt I wanted to burst into tears … with relief … with thankfulness. I felt a wave of hysteria. My darling was safe. I felt as though I had died a thousand deaths while I watched him and he thought I was worried about his cap!

I wanted to pick him up and hug him, to tell him he must never risk his life again.

Jasper was scolding: “You should never have let him go like that. He’s got to know you’re the master. After all I taught you!”

“I know, Jasper, but I couldn’t hold him.”

“No such word as couldn’t, Master Edwin. Up on his back.”

I started to protest but Jasper pretended not to hear me.

“Now off you go. Let him out. Full gallop now.”

Jasper looked at me.

“Only way, mistress. Do you want him so he’ll never mount a horse again?” He looked at me pityingly, for he could see how shaken I was. “They know no fear, mistress. That’s why they have to learn when they’re young. He didn’t know what happened then. Just as well.”

“Jasper, take care of him.”

“Aye, mistress. I’ll make a horseman of him yet.”

That incident made us friends in some odd way. I noticed Jasper looking at me now and then. Of course he despised my fancy gowns, the trappings of the Devil, he would call them. But he respected my love for my child and he knew that I had made him the guardian of Edwin and he liked that.

One day when I was in the stables there alone with him, he came and stood before me rather awkwardly.

“Mistress,” he said, “I’d like a word. Have wanted it these many days.”

“What is it, Jasper?” I asked.

“’Tis about your husband, mistress. He were shot over here … not far from this spot.”

I nodded.

“I want you to know it were none of my doing.”

“Jasper,” I said, “he came here into danger. He was posing as a stranger. I should never have come with him. It was through me that he was betrayed.”

“That were so, mistress. You showed your true nature and it were not that of a woman who serves God as she should, and I told those who should know and one came to see. But nothing had been done then. ’Twere not because of that that he were shot. Mistress, I want you to know that not I nor any of my friends fired the shot that killed Master Edwin.”

“Do you know who?”

He turned away. “I want only to say it were not my doing.”

“So it was nothing to do with his being … the enemy.”

“It were not done by us, mistress. That’s all I can say. ’Twouldn’t have been for us to kill him. We’d have took him for questioning but not to kill.”

“You know who did it, Jasper?”

“’Tis not for me to say, mistress. But I don’t want you to think I was the one who had anything to do with the killing of that boy’s father.”

“I believe you, Jasper,” I said, and I did.

News was coming in from the neighbouring towns. It appeared that a very virulent form of bubonic plague had broken out in the slums of St. Giles’s and so fierce was it that it was fast spreading through the capital and beyond. People were collapsing in the streets and were left there to die because none dared go near them.

We were very worried because Lord Eversleigh was there with Carleton and Uncle Toby and we had had no news from them.

Each day we heard horrific tales. No one who could get out of the capital stayed. The Court had left and an order of council had been issued that stringent measures must be taken to deal with it.

Lady Eversleigh was frantic with anxiety.

“Why don’t they come back?” she demanded. “They would never be so foolish as to stay there. What can it mean …?”

“Not all of them,” she went on frantically. “It couldn’t happen to all of them. Have we gone through those years of exile just to come back to this?”

Charlotte and I shared her anxiety. I realized how fond I was of my father-in-law and his brother, but somewhat to my surprise it was Carleton who kept coming into my mind. I kept picturing him, writhing on a bed of pain, his face and body disfigured by hideous sores, and fervently I wished that he were here and I could nurse him. That seemed crazy, but I told myself I felt this because I should have enjoyed having him in a position which I was sure he would find humiliating—shorn of his dignity, at my mercy. What a strange thought to have at such a time, but Carleton did arouse emotions in me which I had not suspected I possessed. And with them came a certain elation, because however mysterious their absence might be, something within me told me that Carleton would be all right. Nothing would ever get the better of him—not even the plague.

Then when I was with my mother-in-law and Charlotte I wondered how I could have thought so much of Carleton to the exclusion of my father-in-law and Uncle Toby who had both become dear to me.

Each day we waited for news of them. There was none, but we did hear how the plague was spreading, and that, even as far from London as we were, we must take precautions and be very careful of strangers travelling from afar.

Everyone was talking of the plague. There were such epidemics two or three times in every century, but there had been nothing to compare with this since the Black Death. I thought of what I had seen of London—those evil-smelling gutters in the back streets where rats foraged among the rubbish left on the cobbles, and all the time I was thinking of Carleton lying on his bed, needing care.

And what of Lord Eversleigh and Uncle Toby? They were not so young. They would be less able to fight the terrible disease.

The weather was hotter than usual. Even in the country it was stifling. I imagine what it must be like in plague-ridden London. So far the towns and villages around us were free. Canterbury, Dover and Sandwich, it seemed, had no cases, but the people were watchful. We had fearsome stories of what it was like in London. If a member of a household was afflicted, a red cross must be painted on the door and beneath it the words “Lord Have Mercy on Us,” so that everyone could be warned there was danger by entering that dwelling. Even when someone died, that person would have to be lowered from the windows and dropped into one of the death carts which prowled the city at night led by men, masks over their mouth, bells in their hands which mournfully tolled while they cried out: “Bring out your dead.” Pits were dug on the outskirts of the city and the bodies thrown in one on top of the other. There were too many for proper burial and it was the only way.

We prayed for the terrible affliction to pass and still it went on. The servants talked of it continually. The names of Lord Eversleigh, Uncle Toby and Carleton were mentioned in hushed whispers as the dead were spoken of. Lady Eversleigh went about looking like a grey ghost, her face a tragic mask. Charlotte was resentful against life. “Are we never going to know?” she cried. I had rarely seen her so emotional and I was surprised that she cared so much about her family, for she generally gave an impression of indifference to people—even in their presence.

I heard the servants discussing it. “You know you’ve got it when you’re sick and you get headaches and a fever so that you ramble on. That’s how it starts. Then you have to watch out for the next phase. It’s horrible sores like carbuncles—‘buboes’ they call them. They cover you all over.”

There were prayers in the churches. The nation was in mourning. We did not know whether we were personally bereaved or not. Lady Eversleigh grew more depressed each day, Charlotte more angry. As for myself, I could not possibly believe that anything could subdue Carleton Eversleigh. Then I thought: But if he were well, why does he not come to tell us what has been happening to the others? I began to feel that I was being foolish, that I had endowed him with some superhuman power. When I doubted his ability to overcome just everything, I too fell into the general depression.

Jasper said it was God’s answer to the lawlessness which was spreading across the land. Had the country suffered from plague when Oliver Cromwell kept it godly? It had not. But when the King returned with his licentious friends, look what happened.

“The King and the Court have left London. They are safe,” I pointed out. “Why should God punish others for their sins?”

“We have become a sinful nation,” retorted Jasper. “Who can say where He will strike next?”

“Lord Eversleigh was a good man,” I cried. “Why should he …” I stopped. Before that I had consistently refused to believe that he was dead.

It was early afternoon when they came back. I was in the nursery with the children when I heard Carleton’s voice.

“Where is everybody? We’re back. Come and greet us.”

I ran down to the hall. There they were. Carleton, my father-in-law and Uncle Toby. There was someone else with them but I could pay no attention to him just then.

I threw myself into my father-in-law’s arms. I felt the tears on my cheeks.

“My dear, dear child,” he kept saying. Uncle Toby was beside me.

He embraced me as though he would never let me go.

Carleton was standing by, watching with an amused look in his eyes. Then when Uncle Toby released me he picked me up and held me against him. Our faces were level; he looked at me, holding my eyes for some seconds. Then he kissed me hard on the mouth.

I broke away.

“Where have you been?” I cried, almost hysterical between joy and relief at their return and anger for what they had made us suffer. “We have been frantic with anxiety.”

Lady Eversleigh was on the stairs with Charlotte behind her.

She gave a cry of joy and ran towards her husband.

So they were back, and with them was Sir Geoffrey Gillingham, a friend of long standing who had been with them for the last few weeks.

“It seemed the best thing,” said Carleton.

“We knew,” added Lord Eversleigh, his arm through that of his wife, “that you would be anxious. We knew that you would fear the worst, but even that seemed better than putting you in danger. Only those who have seen something of this terrible scourge can understand its horrors.”

The explanation was that the men had been dining with Sir Geoffrey when one of his servants had collapsed and it quickly became obvious that he had the plague. In a short time every servant had left the house with the exception of the wife of the stricken man, who immediately pointed out to Sir Geoffrey that he must go quickly for fear of infection.

Carleton had reminded them that the man must have been suffering for a few days and therefore they could all be infected. The reason why the plague was spreading was because people were not careful enough in isolating themselves when they came within range of it. One would have to wait several weeks to be sure that one was free from infection, and this is what he suggested they do. They could not communicate, for how did they know in what ways the disease could be carried? They would go to a hunting lodge on the edge of the Eversleigh estate. There were no servants there. It was only a small place and rarely used. If they all went there for a few weeks and they were unafflicted, then they could, with a good conscience, join their families.

“Was there no way you could have let us know?” I demanded.

“Carleton was insistent that it was the only way,” said Uncle Toby. “He took charge of us.”

“I can well believe that,” I said.

“Carleton was right,” insisted Lord Eversleigh. “It was better for you to suffer a little anxiety for a while than to have this dreadful thing brought into the house. Think of the boys.”

“Children are particularly susceptible,” said Carleton and that suppressed my complaints.

Sir Geoffrey Gillingham stayed on with us. He was gentle and charming and in a way reminded me of Edwin. He had lost a young wife three years before in childbed and there was something rather sad about him.

I found I could talk to him about Edwin and how happy we had been. I felt he understood.

He had a great admiration for Carleton. “He is the sort of man who would take over in an emergency. I must say that when we realized we were in close proximity with the plague and had actually eaten food which the man had touched, we really thought we were all doomed. It was Carleton who said it was not necessarily so but that we must regard ourselves as potential victims and hide ourselves away.”

“He is a very forceful character, I know,” I said.

“It’s a pity there are not more like him.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “But I suppose wars are made by forceful characters.”

“And sometimes prevented by them.”

Sir Geoffrey was quickly very popular with the family. Lady Eversleigh said he must not think of returning to London. He had had news that both the servant and his wife had died of the plague and that, as they had died in his house, it would be unwise for him to return to it just yet. The children liked him—rather to my surprise, for they were usually fascinated by more colourful people—great romancers like Uncle Toby, for instance. Edwin particularly liked him, and Sir Geoffrey used to ride out with my son, and since he was there to look after him, I allowed Edwin to venture out beyond the field. I had a confident feeling that no harm could come to him while he was with Sir Geoffrey.