So they had met when they could. They had deceived me, told me lies. “Alas, my love, I must go out tonight … this secret mission.” And he was going to Harriet. Harriet! I could see her laughing with him. “You managed to get away from her, then? Poor Arabella! Always so easy to deceive.” It was true … right from the beginning. I had believed she had hurt her ankle and was staying for that reason. I had believed she wanted to help me stay with Edwin and she had wanted him herself. I had believed …

Leigh, I thought. It was so. It must be so. Leigh was Edwin’s son.

My lips formed the boy’s name. “Leigh …” I said.

“Of course. There is a likeness in the boy. It’ll be more noticeable when he gets older.”

“Why …?” I began.

He knelt down by my chair and, taking my hand, kissed it. I let it lie in his.

“Because you had to know. It’s always best to know. I told you in a fit of passion. Perhaps it was wrong. But it’s best to know, Arabella.”

I was silent. He went on: “When you saw her again on the stage, I was afraid you were going to ask her to come here. You must never do that, Arabella. You must never trust that woman again.”

“I thought she was …”

“I know you thought she was your friend. She could never be a friend to anyone but herself. Forget her now. You know the truth. It’s over, Arabella. It was over years ago. Seven years have passed. Let them both pass out of your life as well.”

I said nothing. I sat there in a daze. I kept thinking of scenes from the past. They were going round and round in my head. Their faces gazed at me, laughed at me, sneered at me. I thought I could bear no more.

I wanted to run away and yet I wanted to stay. I could not bear to be alone now.

Carleton said: “It has been a shock. Here. Give me the letter. I am going to destroy it. It is better that it is lost forever.”

“No,” I said, “don’t.”

“What would you do with it?” he asked. “Read it again and again? Torture yourself with it?” He held it in the flame of the candle. I watched the edge of the paper scorch and shrivel before it burst into flame. “There, it is gone. Forget now that it was ever written.” Carleton dropped it in the grate, and I watched it until there was nothing left but the charred remains.

He went to a cupboard and, taking out a bottle, poured liquid into a glass and held it to my lips.

“It will soothe you,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”

He had his arms about me and I drank. The draught was like fire in my throat.

He was murmuring soothingly: “Now you are going to feel better. You are going to see that it happened a long time ago. It is over now. You have your beautiful son … and if it had never happened you would not have had him, would you? It is your legitimate Edwin who is heir to Eversleigh, not the bastard Leigh … not her child. And does she care? No, she went off and let you bring up the boy. Doesn’t that tell you the kind of woman she is?”

I felt dazed, as though I were floating in midair. He picked me up and carried me as though I were a baby. He was sitting in the chair holding me, rocking me tenderly, and I felt comforted.

So we sat thus and I heard him telling me that he loved me. That there had never been anyone he wanted as he wanted me, that everything was going to be wonderful for us both. I had not lost anything. Instead I had found that which would compensate me for everything I now thought I had lost.

I felt him gently unbuttoning my dress. I felt his hands on my body. He lifted me and, kissing me with the utmost tenderness, lay me on his bed.

Then he was with me and I felt dazed and yet somehow happy. It was as though I was escaping from bonds which had been restraining me for a long time. I heard him laugh in the darkness. His voice came from a long way off. And he kept calling me “His love, his Arabella.”

The Return of the Prodigal

WHEN I AWOKE, FOR a few seconds I felt dazed and bewildered. I looked about the unfamiliar surroundings. Memory came back. I was in his room. I sat up in bed. He was not there. I saw my clothes lying on the floor where they had been dropped last night.

I closed my eyes, childishly trying to shut out memories with the sight of that room. Last night … I thought of Carleton holding that piece of paper in his hand … that revealing paper which was positive proof of the deception which had been carried out against me. The desolation … how could I describe it? My dreams, my ideals on which I had lived for seven years had been demolished by one single stroke.

And afterwards … I could not fully remember how it had happened. He had comforted me. He had soothed my wounded vanity, perhaps. He had given me something to drink which had warmed me and at the same time dulled my resistance.

I had been like a wax doll in his hands—no will to resist, I just gave myself up to him. How could I! How could I!

And yet I had been unable to do otherwise.

Where had he gone? What time was it?

I got out of bed, and horrified by my nakedness I slipped my gown over my head. I went to the window. The rain was still falling. It was probably later than I had realized because it was a dark morning. I thought of the maid arriving at my room with hot water, finding my bed unslept in. Strange that at such a time I should be thinking of the proprieties.

I snatched my things from the floor and opened the door. I looked out. The house seemed quiet and I sped along to my room.

To my relief I saw from my clock that there were a good fifteen minutes before they would bring my hot water. I took off my dress and threw it into a cupboard with the rest of my things, then putting on a nightgown I got into bed.

Now I gave myself up to contemplation of what had happened. I wished I could stop thinking of that piece of paper writhing in Carleton’s hands. The words on it were indelibly written in my mind. How could they have deceived me so! How could I ever trust anyone again? But my overwhelming preoccupation was with my surrender. He had arranged it purposely. He had come to me when he knew that I was weak with misery. My conception of my marriage had crashed about my head, and he was there seizing the opportunity to offer me tender comfort, to daze me with his beverage, whatever that was, to weaken my resistance to him, to remind me that I had to turn to someone, to seek comfort somewhere, and he was there. Opportunity. No. He had contrived it. The idea must have come to him when the family coach was stuck in the mud and he knew they would be away for the night. He was cunning, he was devious, and I had given way to him.

I was trying to ignore those memories which came back to me. A wild and searing joy to be with him … Ecstasy there had been with Edwin, but different somehow. … Perhaps because with Carleton there was more than love and passion. There was a kind of mingling of love and hate which was surely wrong and yet … and yet …

I was a little afraid of myself. I was thankful that he had not been there when I awoke and realized how my life had changed overnight.

I thought then of my mother and my father in the days when he had been married to my Aunt Angelet. The passion which had flared up between them, of which she had written so vividly that even before I had experienced such emotions I had understood.

I was like her. I needed that which was called fulfillment. During the last years since Edwin’s death I had been only half alive. I had been living in a false world. I saw that now, and how inevitable it was that sooner or later I was going to let Carleton become my lover.

Why Carleton? Why did I not accept Geoffrey’s honourable offer of marriage? Because instinctively I had known that Carleton was the man for me. His virility could call forth a response in me. That I disliked him seemed to be no deterrent. Physically we were a perfect match. That I had discovered, and it was something he—with his knowledge of women and the world—had known immediately. He might feel that marriage with me was good for his ambitions, but at the same time it suited his physical needs.

I had grown up overnight.

Perhaps that was something I should be grateful for.

There was a knock on the door. The maid came in with hot water.

She said “Good morning, mistress,” and drew back the curtains.

I expected her to show by some way that she noticed the change in me. Surely I must seem different after my experiences? But she set down the water and brought me a note.

“Master Carleton went off early this morning, mistress. He left this note for you.”

I wanted to tear it open but had no wish to appear overeager.

I yawned, I hoped convincingly.

“Not a very good morning, Em,” I said.

“Still raining, mistress. I believe it’s been raining all through the night.”

Yes, I thought, the patter of rain against the windows … lying there with him … just not wanting to move away … forgetting everything but the need to be there.

“Tis to be hoped milord and milady and the others will get the coach set to rights.”

“I daresay they will, Em.”

She went out and I opened the note.

It was brief. “I have had to go out on Court business. I shall return during the day. C.”

No indication that anything unusual had happened. I felt a rush of disappointment. How could he go like that after what had happened? Was he implying that there was nothing extraordinary? It was all very natural that he and I should become lovers? It was what he had always suggested. Was he laughing in triumph now?

I felt angry with him and with myself. How could I have been so weak, so foolish!

It was the impulse of a moment, I told myself. I had had a shock and he was there. He had dulled my resistance with his strong wines. What was that he had given me? It had acted like some witch’s love potion. Perhaps it was. I could hardly imagine his trafficking with witches. But he was capable of anything.

I washed and dressed. I was thankful that I did not have to face him yet.

I was very pale. I found a little rouge and rubbed it into my cheeks. That was better. I thought how I had loved Harriet. She had been as a sister to me. I had been really upset when she had gone away. If I had known …

But what a stupid innocent I had been!

How long and dreary was that day. Nothing happened. I stood at the window watching the raindrops. The grass was sodden. The last of the leaves were rapidly being tossed to the ground and there was a wet bronze carpet on the grass.

Why didn’t he come in? How like him to go off on business. I didn’t believe it. Where was he? I wondered if he were with a woman. A feeling of intense rage possessed me. I should hate her … and him. I could never trust anyone again. Oh, Edwin … Harriet … how could you? How could I ever bear to look at Leigh again?

In the early afternoon a messenger came to the house. I ran down to greet him, sure that he came from Carleton.

He did not. He was from my mother-in-law. They had had greater difficulties with the coach than had seemed likely yesterday. A spoke in one of the wheels had been damaged and was being repaired. This meant that they would be away for one more night. If the rain would stop it would be easier. They would be with me tomorrow without fail.

The evening came and Carleton had not returned.

I was angry with him. He had succeeded as he always said he would. Was that what he wanted? One single victory.

I ate alone—or made a pretence of eating. How different from last night. I found myself longing to see his dark, clever, wicked face opposite me. I wanted to hear his voice mocking me. I wanted to respond.

I retired early. I went to bed. I tried to sleep but I could not. I could not read because I kept going over the events of last night.

It must have been nearly midnight when my door opened and he was there. He wore a loose night robe.

I felt faint with baffling emotions as he looked at me.

“I did not know you had returned,” I stammered.

“Did you think I could stay away? There was much business, but I was determined to be with you.” He blew out the candle he was carrying. “We shall not need it,” he said.

I struggled up, but he was beside me, pinning me down.

“There is so much to say.”

“We shall have the rest of our lives in which to say it, Arabella. I have been thinking of you all through the day. At last. At last … My heart’s desire …”