She spent a little time with Charles Condey too, schooling him in his part. I was a little worried about Charlotte because she seemed to become more withdrawn than ever.

I remonstrated with Harriet when we were alone.

“I don’t think Charlotte is very happy about you and Charles Condey,” I said.

“What about us?” she asked.

“You know he is becoming infatuated by you.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Is that my fault?”

“Yes,” I answered shortly.

She burst out laughing. “My dear Arabella, it is up to Charlotte, is it not?”

“Charlotte is a girl who would never deliberately set out to attract a man.”

“Then it serves her right if she loses him.”

“Oh, come, men are not prizes to be won for … I was going to say for good conduct … but I could hardly call the way you are behaving that, could I?”

“Oh, but they are,” she said. “Some people have prizes presented to them when they really don’t deserve them. Others have to work for them. Charlotte may lose hers simply because she has made no effort to keep it.”

“Are you trying to win Charles Condey?”

“You know I always go for the top prizes. He’s hardly that.”

“Then why not leave him to Charlotte?”

“Perhaps I will.”

I was very uneasy, but after our talk I noticed she was less with Charles than before. She said she had to concentrate on her scenes with Romeo.

She was rather upset one afternoon after the midday meal when I came to our room to get a book and I found her there. When I asked if anything was wrong she grimaced and said: “Lady Eversleigh wants to talk to me. I am to go to her room at three o’clock.”

“Why?” I asked in alarm.

“That is what I should like to know.”

“It’s something about the play, I expect.”

Harriet shook her head. “I am not sure. She looked very grave, and what was more disconcerting she said little. You know she is usually so loquacious. I wondered why she couldn’t say it there and then. But this seems to be a secret.”

“You don’t think she has discovered you are not what you seemed? Can she know about those atrocious lies?”

“Even if she had she wouldn’t want to send me away. The play would collapse without me.”

“Conceit!” I said.

“Truth!” she parried. “No, it can’t be that. I wonder what it is.”

I had rarely seen her so concerned as when she went for her talk with Lady Eversleigh, and when she came back, I was waiting for her in our room. Then she was really angry. Her cheeks were scarlet, her eyes blazing—and she looked magnificent.

“Why, Harriet, what is it?”

She threw herself into a chair and looked at me.

“You are to play Juliet,” she said.

“What are you talking about?”

“The royal command,” she said.

“She sent for you to tell you that.”

Harriet nodded. “She didn’t say so but she thinks I am spending the time with her precious Edwin that he should be spending with you.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Oh, yes, it’s true. She was very friendly, thanking me profusely for coming and working so hard to make her party a success. She appreciated that, she said. But she makes it quite clear that you are to play Juliet so that you can play at love with Edwin-Romeo. That is what is to be. It’s an ultimatum. Underneath all that inconsequential femininity, Matilda Eversleigh is a woman of iron. She knows what she wants and she is going to get it.

“I said to her: ‘But the part is demanding. It needs a real actress. Arabella is not that. She hasn’t the experience … the acting ability to play it.’ She laughed and said: ‘My dear Mistress Main, it is only a game, you know. It will amuse our guests and that is its object. The little mishaps are such fun in games like this. Don’t you agree? And Charlotte tells me that Arabella looked quite beautiful in the cap you found in the attic.’ Then I thought to myself it’s that cat Charlotte who has done this.”

“Don’t speak so loudly,” I warned. “And Charlotte is not in the least like a cat.”

“She is. Sly, secretive, ready to scratch.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have offended her by flirting with Charles Condey.”

“Oh, nonsense! How can I help being more attractive than Charlotte? It is no great achievement in any case. Ninety-nine women out of a hundred would be that.”

“Well, go on,” I prompted. “What else did Lady Eversleigh say? I trust you hid your fury.”

“I didn’t show by a twitch of my nose or a twist of my lips how furious I was. Or if I did … she put it down to my love of the art.”

“Your love of yourself more likely. Tell me more.”

“She became a little coy. ‘Our families,’ she said, ‘are hopeful that there might be a match between Arabella and Edwin. For a long time my husband has admired General Tolworthy. He is one of the best soldiers in the King’s army. The King is very grateful to him.’ I nodded and said with sarcasm which was lost on her: ‘When we get back to England the King will want to show his gratitude to people like the General.’ ‘He has promised,’ she answered, ‘so I think that once we are back …’ I finished for her: ‘His daughter would be an excellent match for you son.’ ‘That is what Lord Eversleigh thinks,’ she replied, ‘and so do Arabella’s parents. The times make everything so difficult and it is rarely that a happy arrangement can come about. It is for this reason that I should like to see this matter settled.’”

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.