Wasn’t he going into danger?

“Danger!” cried Edwin. “What danger could there be? I’m going to England … our home.”

“A Royalist in Puritan England!”

“I tell you I’ll ape the Puritan to perfection. I have to get my hair cut. Shall you love me just the same with a Roundhead crop?”

“Just the same,” I assured him.

“My dear, faithful Arabella. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We shall just drop into Eversleigh. … It’s a Roundhead stronghold now. My cousin is there. It’s a joke, I believe. All the gilded treasures packed away very carefully and kept out of sight. He’s changed his name to Humility. Humility Eversleigh. The name itself is a joke. He knows it. That’s why he’s chosen it. Humility is the last thing you can accuse my Cousin Carleton of. I wonder how he’s making out. He’ll have to be as good an actor as I am to deceive them. He must be, because he seems to be managing it—and without the benefit of my grounding as Romeo.”

“You are a natural Romeo, Edwin.”

“Oh, come, my darling, are you detracting from my triumph?”

How I clung to him! I loved him so much. I loved the nonchalance with which he undertook this mission. Nothing could ruffle my husband. I fancied he would emerge from any situation his lovable, handsome, laughing self.

We used to walk in the gardens while he told me of the project. “You won’t recognize me as a Puritan,” he declared. “Oh, Arabella, you won’t fall out of love with me, will you? Promise me?”

I promised that nothing could ever make me do that.

“Cropped head, black hat unadorned by a single feather, plain dark jacket and breeches. I might be allowed a white collar and cuffs … very, very plain. I shall have to compose my features and try to be solemn.”

“That will be your most difficult task.”

“I fear so.” He forced his face into a lugubrious expression that was so comical it set me rocking with laughter in which he joined.

“Tell me about Cousin Carleton.”

“Cousin Carleton is one of those characters called larger than life. He is large in all ways. He stands several inches over six feet and he has an oversize personality to go with it. He only has to speak for everyone to stand to attention. I believe he would have put the fear of God into Oliver Cromwell himself. As for Oliver’s poor little son … I don’t think he will stand a chance against Carleton. That’s one of the reasons I think we shall soon be returning to England.”

“Tell me about him seriously.”

“We were brought up together. He is ten years older than I, and for ten years he believed he was heir to the title and lands. In our family these things only go to the female if there is no male heir, however remote. Unfair to your sex, my love, but Eversleigh law. My father’s younger brother, James, married and had a son, Carleton. It was a long time before my parents were fruitful. Then they produced a girl who died two days after her birth. In due course Charlotte appeared. By this time it seemed certain that Carleton would be the heir. He expected it. He came to Eversleigh and at ten years of age acted like the master of all. Then I appeared. What consternation in the opposing camp! What rejoicing in ours! Uncle James bowed to the inevitable and shortly afterwards was thrown from his horse and died, defeated. His wife, Aunt Mary, survived him for two or three years, then she died quietly in her bed of a cold which turned to a congestion of the lungs. Carleton accepted his fate, continued to lord it over us all and stayed on at Eversleigh. He took an interest in me. Made me ride bareback, run, swim, fence, in the hope of bringing me to his standards, and naturally even he had to fail in that impossible task. So you see he really brought me up.”

“He did not resent you?”

“Not me! I think he would have liked to own everything in due course. But he has a share in the estates and he seemed to look upon me as something of a weakling who would always need his guidance.”

“A weakling … you!”

“Well, my dearest, Carleton finds everyone a weakling when compared with himself.”

“I think he sounds rather objectionable.”

“Some people find him so. He’s a bit of a cynic. Perhaps life has made him so. He’s witty and worldly. … I wonder how he’s managing now. He’s Royalist from the crown of his head to his toes, and how he’s playing the Puritan I can’t imagine.”

“Why did he stay in England?”

“He refused to leave. ‘This is my home and here I stay,’ he said. It was his belief that someone should be there. If not, how should we know when the country was ripe for the King’s return? So he stayed. I think the role appeals to him. Ever since the King escaped he has been acting as King’s spy at Eversleigh … and not only there. He goes about the country sounding people. He could raise an army if the need arose, but of course we all hope for a peaceful return. We don’t want another civil war. I don’t think the people would have it anyway. The last was disastrous enough. Oh, Carleton has done good work. I doubt not the King will wish to reward him. Carleton is just the kind who will appeal to His Majesty.”

“As you will, too.”

“I haven’t Carleton’s quick wit, his worldliness. He is just the kind of man the King likes to have around him.”

“I believe the King is known to have a fondness for the society of women.”

“Discreetly put, dearest.”

“And your cousin?”

“It is yet another interest Carleton would share with the King.”

“He has no wife, then?”

“Yes, he married. There are no children, which has been a trial to him.”

“And what does she think of this … interest in the opposite sex?”

“She understands it perfectly because she shares it.”

“It doesn’t sound a very desirable marriage.”

“It works. He goes his way. She goes hers.”

“Oh, Edwin, how unhappy I should be if we became like that.”

“There is one thing I can promise you, Arabella. We never shall.”

I took his face in my hands and kissed it.

“It would be too much to expect that everyone could be as happy as we are,” I said solemnly.

He agreed.

How the days flew past! I wanted to catch them and hold them to prevent their escape, for the passing of each one brought our separation nearer.

Sometimes Edwin disappeared for hours. Once or twice he returned in the early morning.

“There are so many preparations to be made, sweetheart,” he said. “You know I hate to be away from you.”

Then we made love passionately, and I implored him to get his work done speedily and come back to me.

Inevitably there came the day when he must go.

His hair had been cropped and he was dressed in his sombre clothes. Some might scarcely have recognized him, but he could never lose that merry expression which was so essentially his, that implication that life was something of a joke and not to be taken seriously.

I said good-bye to him and watched him ride off with Tom, his man, who was to share the adventure with him. Then I went to our bedroom to be by myself for a while.

As I shut the door I was aware that I was not alone in the room. Harriet rose from a chair.

“So he has gone,” she said.

I felt my lips trembling.

“Poor deserted bride!” she mocked. “But there is no reason why you should remain so.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“I think you have disappointed him, Arabella.”

I stared at her in astonishment.

“Just think what an ardent bride would do. Don’t look so amazed. She would go with him, wouldn’t she?”

“Go with him?”

“Why not? For better or worse and all that. In England or France … in peace or war … in safety or danger …”

“Stop it, Harriet.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You have led too sheltered a life. But I can see that you enjoy marriage. You all but purr. You really have been helping yourself to the cream. I knew how it would be. Well, what are you going to do now? Sit like the lady in the tower, chastity belt securely fastened to await her lord’s return?”

“Please don’t joke about this, Harriet. I am not in the frame of mind to accept it.”

“Joke! I’m serious. You know what a good wife would do.”

“What?”

“Follow her husband.”

“You mean …”

“Exactly what I say. Why should you not? I think it may be what he expects.”

“Follow him … I should never catch up with him.”

“Oh, yes, we shall. He is reaching the coast in three days’ time. There he will have to wait for the tide. If we left after dark tonight … when they are all in bed …”

“We!”

“You don’t imagine I should let you go alone, do you?”

“It’s madness.”

She shook her head. “Madness not to. How do you know what will happen to him? A newly married man needs a wife to comfort him. Having tasted the honeydew of connubial bliss, he will need it and look for it. If you are not there …”

“Stop it, Harriet.”

“Think about it,” she said. “There is till tonight. I shall come with you, for I would not allow you to go alone.”

She rose and went to the door. There she paused to look back at me. Her smile was sly, secretive. She looked as though she could probe my innermost thoughts and was doing so.

When she was gone, I was bewildered, but in my mind I was preparing myself. Was it a wild scheme? Perhaps, but the more I thought of it, the more I knew that now it had been suggested to me, I was going to do it.

In a day or so’s time we should be together.

How excited Harriet was. I could see this was the sort of exploit which appealed to her. How right she had been when she had said she must adventure!

We spent the rest of that day together, making plans. The two of us would leave as soon as the household had retired. We would ride through the night and by morning we should reach the inn where Edwin had stayed.

She knew which one it would be. She had heard him mention it, she said. L’Ananas in the village of Marlon.

“The sooner we join up with them the better. It is not exactly comme il faut for two women to be riding about the countryside together.”

She had thought at first of dressing up as a man. That appealed to the actress in her, but even she could not quite succeed in such a role. “As for you,” she said, “everything about you suggests you are of the feminine gender.”

I was in a fever of excitement. I wrote two notes, one to my mother-in-law and one to Lucas. I was sure, I said, that I should soon be back … with Edwin. As for Lucas, he must return to Congrève—which he was going to do in any case—and look after the little ones.

“Oh, Harriet,” I cried as we rode along, “how glad I am that we did this! I wonder what Edwin will say?”

“He’ll laugh at you,” she answered. “He’ll say, ‘Could you not do without me for a few weeks?’”

I laughed aloud with happiness. “Oh, Harriet, it is good of you to come with me.”

“Didn’t I tell you, you have only just begun to live.”

I felt it was true.

I was so happy as we rode through the night.

By great good luck we found the inn L’Ananas with the pineapple painted on its sign and there caught up with Edwin.

He, with his servant, was preparing to leave when we rode into the stables.

I did not think he was altogether surprised, though he pretended to be, and I was exultant because I had come to him and grateful to Harriet. I myself should never have thought of undertaking such an adventure.

We dismounted and stood before him. He caught us both up in his arms and hugged us.

“What …?” he began. “Well …” Then as Harriet had predicted he started to laugh.

“I had to come, Edwin,” I said. “I had to be with you.”

He nodded and looked from me to Harriet.

“It seemed the best thing to do,” she said.

He hesitated just for a second or so and then he said: “It calls for celebration. There’s nothing but mine host’s vin ordinaire … and very ordinaire, I warn you. Come let us go inside and we’ll drink to our reunion.”

He walked between us, an arm through each of ours.

“You must tell me all about it. What did my mother say?”

“She will know when she finds her note this morning,” I said.

“Oh, notes, eh? Drama indeed! Bless you. I have never been more glad of anything in my life than the sight of you.”