In the box opposite was a very fine lady in a mask, and with her an overdressed gentleman. The gentleman bowed as we entered and Carleton and Lord Eversleigh bowed back. The gentleman—if he deserved such a name—fixed his gaze on first me and then Charlotte and then came back to me.

“I hate these insolent men,” muttered Charlotte.

“Dear Cousin, that is Lord Weldon,” explained Carleton. “He thinks he does you an honour by gazing on you.”

“An insult more likely,” retorted Charlotte.

“His lady does not like it.”

“And who is she?” I asked.

“Don’t ask me. He changes mistresses every night.”

“Perhaps one day he’ll find his Scheherazade,” I suggested.

“She’ll need more than exciting tales to keep him, I do assure you.”

“At least she does not want us to see her face, since she is masked.”

“A fashion, Cousin.”

“Should we not have worn them?”

“You have no need to hide behind them. You are in respectable company. Weldon has his eye on you though. It would not surprise me if he seeks me out tomorrow with eager enquiries.”

“I hope you will reply to him in a suitable manner, and let him know that you consider his impertinence an insult to your family.”

“Dear Cousin, I will challenge him to a duel if that pleases you.”

“Duelling should be stopped,” said Lord Eversleigh. “It’s against the law in any case.”

“Agreed, Uncle, but although we ourselves might be guilty of insulting certain ladies, we must become incensed when insults are directed against our own.” Carleton was smiling cynically and I turned away from him, and looked below to where the orange girls with their baskets were trying to tempt the members of the audience to buy, and exchanging badinage with the men. There were scuffles as the girls were seized and some of the men tried to kiss them. Oranges rolled on the floor, and people trying to retrieve them scrambled about shrieking with laughter.

The place was filled with noise and the smell of none too clean humanity; yet it excited me. I was all eagerness for the play.

It was to be The Merry Wives of Windsor. Carleton told us that it had to be comedy. Nobody wanted tragedy anymore. They wanted laughter not tears. “Tears went out with the Roundheads.” They wanted frolics on the stage, not falling bodies. And what they wanted most was women on the stage. For so long men had taken women’s parts and although some like Edward Kynaston took women’s parts still, and looked so pretty on the stage that it was said many women fell in love with him and used to wait for him after the play and take him out in their carriages, it was the women who were now appearing on the stage who were largely responsible for its growing popularity.

Carleton told us how the King had gone to see Hamlet in which Kynaston was playing the Queen, and when the play was late in starting Charles demanded to know why. The manager, beside himself with anxiety, went to the royal box and explained: “May it please Your Majesty, the Queen is not yet shaved.”

His Majesty was highly delighted with the explanation and was in a particularly good mood which reflected throughout the playhouse and made a success of the play.

“His Majesty, of course, has already shown himself somewhat partial to the ladies,” said Carleton. “And his loyal subjects like to follow him in all his ways.”

Lord Eversleigh shook his head. “I say this out of no lack of loyalty,” he said, “but I think it would make his loyal subjects happier if he were more devoted to his Queen—and less to those harpies who surround him.”

“The Castlemaine’s hold is as strong as ever,” Carleton put in. “But that does not prevent the royal eye roving and the playhouse has much to offer … as you will see when the play begins.”

He seemed to be amused by some secret joke. I wondered what. I was soon to discover, for candles set along the front of the stage were lighted and the play was about to begin.

Shallow and Slender had emerged, but for a few moments nothing could be heard because of the noise in the audience. Shallow came to the front of the stage and some shouted: “Look out. You’ll catch your breeches in the flame.”

Shallow held up a hand. “My lords and ladies, one and all. I beg silence that we may play before you.”

The manner in which he spoke took me back to a snowy night in Congrève when the strolling players had come. The dramatic cadences and gestures reminded me of the strolling players.

The audience grew quieter and some shouted: “Come on, then, man.”

“With your permission,” said Shallow making a deep bow.

The play had begun.

Never having been in a playhouse before I was in a state of great excitement. I had always loved to playact and now I was seeing it done in a professional manner. I knew the play and I settled to enjoy myself.

It was scene one of act two when Mistress Page came onto the stage.

“What! have I ’scaped love-letters in the holiday-time of my beauty, and am now a subject for them?”

She was holding the paper in her hand and my heart leaped as I watched her. There was no mistaking her. Harriet!

I turned and saw Carleton’s eyes on me. He was smiling sardonically. He had known. He had brought us here for this purpose.

I turned my attention to the stage. She had changed little. Perhaps she was less slim. Perhaps she was a little older. But she was as beautiful as ever.

I was aware that Charlotte had grown tense. She had recognized her too.

I turned my attention back to the stage. I could not stop looking at Harriet. She had that magnetism of which I had always been aware and the audience was, too, for they had ceased to fidget and cough and there was a deep silence in the playhouse.

I was deeply moved. I could not follow the play, I could only think of Harriet. What had happened to her? How had she come to this? Had James Gilley discarded her or had she left him of her own free will? Was she happy? Was she doing what she wanted? I would speak to her tonight.

I was aware of Charlotte tense beside me.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Did you see?” she whispered.

I nodded.

“He must have left her. She has come to this. …”

Carleton whispered, “Silence, ladies. This audience oddly seems intent upon the stage.”

I kept thinking of her, wondering about her. I felt exhilarated because I had seen her again.

“I must go to her,” I said. “I cannot leave without seeing her.”

Charlotte cried: “No, Arabella! It is wrong. We do not want to see her again.”

“I can’t ignore her,” I said. “I want to see her.”

Carleton said: “I’ll take you to their green-room. She’ll be there, I doubt not.”

“Thank you,” I answered.

“Always at your service,” he whispered.

I could see that he knew his way about the playhouse. The management knew him too. We met a man and told him that we were friends of Mistress Page and would like a word with her.

It could be arranged, was the answer and I saw money pass between them.

For the first time I was grateful to Carleton.

We were shown into a small room and very soon Harriet came in.

“Harriet!” I cried, and I could not stop myself rushing towards her and putting my arms about her.

She embraced me. “I saw you in the box,” she said, “and I knew you would come to see me.”

Carleton bowed. “Your performance was superb,” he said.

She bowed her head. “Thank you, good sir.”

“I will leave you to talk and come and collect you in ten minutes, Cousin.”

Harriet grimaced as the door shut. “I never liked him,” she said.

“Harriet, what are you doing here?”

“I should have thought that was obvious.”

“Are you … do you …”

“I am one of Thomas Killigrew’s players and, believe me, that is something of an achievement.”

“But Sir James …”

“Him! Oh he was just a stepping-stone. I had to get away. He was there … providing the means.”

“So you weren’t in love with him.”

“In love! Oh, my dear romantic Arabella, always thinking of love. What’s the good of love to a girl who has to keep a roof over her head and has a fancy for the luxuries of life.”

“You are so beautiful. You could have married Charles Condey.”

“I see you had sour-faced Charlotte in the box tonight. I’ll warrant she won’t be here to see me.”

“You treated her rather badly, Harriet.”

“Badly? By being kind to a young man who clearly didn’t want Charlotte? But we waste time. Tell me, what are you doing? How do you like England now? How are the boys?”

“Very well and happy.”

“And young Leigh?”

“He’s handsome and knows how to stand up for himself.”

“He gets that from me, and you’re a good mother to him, are you?”

“Harriet, how could you leave him?”

“How could I take him with me? Oh, it was a wrench but what could I do? I could see I wouldn’t have been very welcome with you. Madame Charlotte would hardly want me there. Your mother was not prepared to issue an invitation. It was poor Harriet all alone again. So I said: James Gilley will get me there and I’ll be with him until I’m tired. I always wanted to get onto the stage and here l am.”

“Is it a good life, Harriet?”

She burst out laughing. “Dear Arabella, you always amused me. For me it’s good enough. Full of ups and downs … always exciting. I was made for it. And you? Still brooding for Edwin?”

“There was never anyone like him.”

“What of Carleton?”

“What of him?”

“He has a reputation for being irresistible. I’ve heard he can pick and choose. Castlemaine herself has her eyes on him. He’s a bit too wily for that. He doesn’t want to get in the Black Boy’s bad books.”

“I don’t understand all this talk.”

“Castlemaine’s the King’s mistress and the Black Boy is H.M. himself. Carleton’s quite a character. He sets the town wagging with gossip and then he slips off to Eversleigh and stays there for a while. I hear he is furious because there is now a baby heir. Your own sweet child, Arabella. Oh, there’s quite a bit of gossip about Carleton Eversleigh and I lap it up … having once been a connection of sorts.”

“Harriet, I want to know that you’re happy.”

“I want to know that you are.”

“As happy as I can be without Edwin. Reassure me, Harriet.”

“As happy as I can be without a grand mansion of my own and a fortune so that I can live in luxury until the end of my days.”

“Oh, Harriet,” I said, “it’s been wonderful seeing you.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet again. I intend to be the toast of the London playhouses. Carleton will be coming to take you back now. I’m glad you came, Arabella. There’ll always be something, won’t there, between us two?”

She smiled at me somewhat enigmatically. I couldn’t make out whether she was really happy or not. I felt frustrated and uneasy. I wanted to persuade her to give up the stage and come back with me to Eversleigh.

I knew I couldn’t. For one thing she would refuse, and for another my new family would never agree to it.

I said good-bye to her, and as she kissed me she said: “We’ll meet again. Our lives, as they say in plays, are interwoven while we are on earth together.”

It was the most exciting experience of my trip to London.

Plague

EVERSLEIGH SEEMED DULL AFTER London, but I was glad to be back with Edwin and to reassure myself that he had not suffered from my temporary desertion.

Charlotte and I went first to the nursery where we were greeted vociferously by the boys, and when they saw what we had brought for them their welcome became even warmer. We had been careful that what one had so should the other, so they each had a popgun with clay pellets, a trumpet apiece made from cows’ horn, and kites—a blue one for Edwin, a red one for Leigh. With these and the peppermint drops in boxes with pictures of Whitehall Palace on them, the boys were enchanted. It was typical that Leigh’s favourite should be the popgun which he proceeded to fire at everyone and everything while Edwin loved his trumpet. The kites were almost equally favoured, I think, and they wanted to go out immediately to fly them. Charlotte said: “Which do you love best, us or the presents?” Both little boys looked puzzled. Leigh kept his eyes on his popgun, Edwin fingered his trumpet. Then with a gesture which moved me deeply because it reminded me of his father, Edwin put down his trumpet and ran to me and flung his arms about me.