It was a very sad, dark day when we buried him in the family vault in the Eversleigh churchyard. He had been a quiet, unassuming man for all his position, and he had been generally respected. Matilda was beside herself with grief. She told me she could not imagine life without him.

“My dear Arabella,” she said, “you suffered a similar loss. My dearest Edwin, taken in the prime of his youth. I cannot imagine which is worse, to lose a young husband or one who was become part of one over so many long and happy years.”

I did my best to comfort her, and we were together a great deal. I listened to her accounts of the pleasant life she had had since her marriage and how wonderful her dear husband had been at the time of Edwin’s death. “I could not have lived through that but for him,” she declared. “Dear Edwin, he was such another as his father.” I thought, if she knew! But she must never know. “Thank God there is young Edwin. He is Lord Eversleigh now.”

I had been thinking of that. We must be careful. I was not sure that it would be good for a boy of eight to know that he had such a title.

I heard Sally Nullens refer to him as “my little lord,” and I discussed the matter with her.

“It’s better for him to get used to the idea gradually,” she said. “He’ll discover it sooner or later. Servants talk, you know, and you can’t stop them short of sealing up their lips. Boys will listen and there’s nothing will stop them short of plugging up their ears.”

Sally was wise with children, so I told Edwin what had happened. His grandfather, Lord Eversleigh, was dead and as his father, Lord Eversleigh’s son, was also dead, that meant that he, young Edwin, was now Lord Eversleigh.

“What shall I have to do?” he asked.

“Nothing that you didn’t do before,” I said. “Though you will have to be a little more thoughtful of others, a little more kind to people.”

“Why?”

“Noblesse oblige,” I replied, “which means that the nobly born must act nobly and that rank carries with it special obligations.”

“Well, I haven’t been born different, have I? Why should I have to change now?”

“It really shouldn’t be a change. You should have been kind and thoughtful before.”

Leigh, who had been listening, said: “Then I will have to be the same,” he supposed.

“You’re not a lord,” Edwin pointed out.

“I will be,” was Leigh’s retort. “I’ll be a bigger, better lord than you. You’ll see.”

Yes, I thought, he was indeed Harriet’s son.

We did not celebrate Christmas with any great festivities because we were in mourning. On the other hand we could not ignore it altogether because of the children. The carol singers came, and so did the mummers who did a morality play and another about Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, Little John and Maid Marian, which the boys loved. The Dollan family, who lived some ten miles away, rode over and joined us for Christmas Day. They had recently taken the Priory, the nearest big house, and they had come to offer condolences at the time of Lord Eversleigh’s death.

They were delightful people—Sir Henry and Lady Dollan, their three daughters and a son, Matthew. Matthew was a lively young man interested in politics and this meant that he and Carleton got on well together. They met in London occasionally and Matthew had taken to calling quite frequently on us.

I was particularly interested in Matthew because, although he was very good company, there was in him a gentle streak. I encouraged him to come often.

So passed Christmas Day. I fancied that we had managed rather cleverly in making a celebration for the children and at the same time not failing in our memory of Lord Eversleigh.

Before we retired that night, I looked in at the nursery as I always did. The boys were fast asleep, smiles of contentment on their faces. Priscilla in her cot was sleeping too. This was my darling’s first Christmas, but she had been unaware of it, naturally, at six months old. Next year, I thought, it will be different. Then she will be of an age to begin to take notice.

Sally Nullens came tiptoeing in from where she slept in the next room.

“Don’t wake them, mistress,” she said. “They’ve been up to tricks. Overmuch Christmas excitement … too much for Master Leigh and for his lordship too.”

I said good night and went to our bedroom where Carleton was waiting. He was in bed propped up with pillows.

He said: “Where have you been? Don’t tell me, I know. Drooling over your daughter, I have no doubt.”

“Your daughter too, sir,” I said.

“You will spoil that child.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It will be good for her when she has a few brothers.”

“She has Edwin and Leigh now.”

“I’ll swear they take little notice of her.”

“Oh, but they do. They love her.”

“Perhaps this time next year we’ll have a boy.”

“Why are men so set on sons? Is it because they so admire themselves that they are hoping to see themselves repeated?”

“That could be a very good reason.”

I was sitting at the mirror, brushing my hair. Carleton was silent watching me. I said: “It was a good Christmas Day considering the circumstances.”

“You found it so.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No. I thought you were far too interested in Matthew Dollan.”

“Of course I’m interested. He’s a very attractive young man.”

Carleton sprang and, picking me up, carried me over to the bed.

“I’d not tolerate any infidelities.”

“Carleton, you’re mad. Infidelities. With Matthew Dollan!”

“I’m warning you. And you’re laughing.”

“Of course, I’m laughing. I am not interested in Matthew Dollan other than as a friend.”

He bent over me, his lips on mine.

“You have been warned,” he said.

“Of what?” I asked.

“The dire fate which would befall you if ever you played me false.”

I laughed. He really loved me, I knew. Harriet had said he was reformed since he married. I had heard it said somewhere that reformed rakes make the best husbands.

That was a pleasant thought to go to sleep on on that Christmas Day. It meant that my marriage was turning out a great deal more satisfactorily than I thought it possibly could. Our relationship was changing. We still sparred and bantered, but our lovemaking was becoming more and more satisfying.

I believe, I thought, I am going to be happy.

In the New Year Carleton went to Whitehall. The King had sent for him. They were still excited about the Roman remains which the excavations following on the fire had disclosed. Carleton talked of them with great enthusiasm and I was becoming as interested as he was.

He wanted me to go with him and I was torn between going and leaving the children.

“What nonsense,” said Carleton impatiently. “As if old Nullens isn’t as good as any watchdog.”

“I know. But I hate to leave Priscilla.”

“What about me? You have no objection to leaving me!”

“It’s just that I should be worrying about them all the time.”

“And you don’t worry about what might be happening to me?”

I lifted my shoulders in exasperation.

“Husbands need to be looked after if they are going to be kept in good order,” he reminded me.

I was tempted to go and I should have gone if Edwin had not caught a chill the day before we were due to depart.

When I went to say good night to the children, Leigh and Priscilla were sleeping but Edwin was not in his bed. Sally came in and said: “I’ve moved his bed into my room. His coughing might disturb the others and I want to keep my eye on him.”

I was immediately concerned.

“Just a chill,” said Sally. “I’ve got a flannel on his chest and hot bricks wrapped in more flannel for his feet. I’ve also got some good cordial for him.”

I went and looked at my son. His face was flushed and his forehead far too hot.

“Hello, Mama,” he said. “You’re going to London to see the King.”

I knelt by his bed. “It won’t be for long.”

“How long?” he asked.

“A week perhaps.”

“Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday Monday,” he said.

Then he started to cough.

“You shouldn’t talk,” said Sally sharply. “I told you not to.”

“It was my fault,” I said. “Now try to sleep, my darling.”

“Will you come and see me before you go?” asked Edwin.

“Of course I will.” I bent and kissed him. He took my hand and clung to it. His fingers were burning.

I covered him up and when I went out Sally followed me.

“Now don’t you fret,” she said. “I’ll look after him. It’s just one of his colds.”

I nodded and went back to our room. While I prepared for bed Carleton talked excitedly about London and the Roman remains. He noticed my inattention and complained of it.

“I’m worried about Edwin,” I said.

“You are like an old hen with her chicks.”

“I am a mother,” I said.

“You are also a wife. Never neglect your husband for your children. That’s an old adage isn’t it, or it ought to be. Come to bed. Thank God tomorrow I shall lure you away from your domesticity.”

But in the morning Edwin was worse. Sally was anxious, I could see.

“Sally,” I said, “I’m going to stay.”

I could see her relief.

“It’s not just a cold, is it?”

“The fever still stays and he’s been talking excitedly and thinking he was riding his horse. I’ve sent one of the men for the doctor.”

I went back to Carleton. “You should be ready,” he said.

“I’m not going.”

He stared at me incredulously.

“What nonsense. Of course you are. The King expects you.”

“Edwin is very ill.”

“He has a slight chill.”

“It’s not slight. I’m staying here.”

For a few seconds we faced each other. He was angry. He didn’t believe Edwin was ill. I told myself that in his heart he had never liked Edwin. He resented him, I knew it. He had several reasons for resenting him. For a long time, before Toby had returned, he had stood between him and Eversleigh. Moreover he was my son, and he suspected that the boy reminded me of Edwin and that whatever ill I heard of him I would still harbour romantic thoughts about him. Carleton was a man who had to be first; he had to be the centre of everything, and that included my life. He wouldn’t even stand aside for his own daughter, but to do so for another man’s son infuriated him.

I knew Carleton. I was fully aware of his faults. I was not going to make the mistake of turning him into a model of virtue. That would be scarcely possible with a man like Carleton. He was virile, arrogant, essentially male and I enjoyed my marriage, which was because I was a woman who needed marriage. Physically we were well matched. I liked our encounters, even our verbal battles, which still persisted. We loved to score over each other. Perhaps that was not the way a wife should feel about her husband, but it was how I felt about Carleton.

My marriage was exciting rather than tender. I was sure he felt the same about me.

Now he was angry. He could not bear me to prefer anyone else, even my own children … particularly Edwin. He desperately wanted a son of his own. He was making that more and more clear.

Life with him was far from tranquil and now we were moving into a new storm.

“You are coming with me,” he said.

“No, Carleton, I am not coming. I will not leave Edwin. I have told Sally Nullens I am staying. She is relieved. That means Edwin is worse than he appears to be.”

For a moment I thought he was going to pick me up forcibly and ride off with me.

I was sure that was in his mind. Then he said abruptly: “Very well. Do as you please.”

And he went off.

He did not say good-bye.

I could not think much about Carleton because my concern was all for my son. The doctor had come and had found him suffering from a fever. He was to be kept warm and fed with broth. He would come again the next day.

In the afternoon Edwin went into a deep sleep and Sally said he should be left alone. We would look in on him from time to time and she had put a little bell under his pillow in case he should wake and need something.

After about fifteen minutes I crept into his room. Someone was standing at the foot of his bed, looking at him.

“Harriet,” I whispered.