Harriet somehow managed to make herself the centre of attraction just as she had in the old days. She sang for us, and as she sat there strumming her lute with her lovely hair falling over her shoulders, my mind went right back to the days in Congrève when she had seemed to me like a goddess from another world.

That she seemed just that to Uncle Toby was obvious. He was so proud of her, so much in love, and it occurred to me that even if she had contrived to marry him for what she could get, at least she had made him happy.

I was pleased too that Matthew Dollan was there, and Charlotte, too. Charlotte seemed to be quite happy, although she could not rid herself of that suspicious attitude which seemed to say, I know you’re only being pleasant to me because it’s polite to be so.

When the children had gone to bed we went to the ballroom which had been made ready for dancing, and there the musicians played and we were very merry.

As Carleton led me into the dance, he asked if I felt it was an occasion worthy of the reason for having it.

“I think it goes well,” I said.

“A thanksgiving because our young Edwin was snatched from the gates of death?”

I shivered.

“What a fond and foolish mother you are, Arabella! The boy is completely healthy. You should be thanking the fates for my return to you, not his from the aforementioned gates.”

“It is to celebrate two happy events.”

“So you are glad to have me back?”

“Have I not made that clear?”

“On occasions,” he said. “I say, look at Toby.”

I looked. He was dancing with Harriet. His face was overred I thought and his breaking a little short.

“He drank too much wine,” I said.

“Not unusual, I’m afraid.”

“Harriet shouldn’t let him exert himself like that. Will you speak to her?”

“I will. When the dance is over.”

But that was to prove too late, for there was a sudden cry, and a hushed silence. I looked round. Toby was on the floor and Harriet was kneeling beside him.

Carleton rushed over and examined his uncle. “He is breathing,” he said. “We must get him to his room. Arabella, send them for the doctor.”

That was the end of the dance. Toby was carried up to his room and in due course the doctor came and told us that Toby had had a heart attack. It was due, it seemed, to overexerting himself. I sat with Harriet at his bedside. She was very subdued. There was anxiety in her face and I knew that she was thinking of what her position would be if Uncle Toby died.

He did not die. In a few days it was clear that he would recover. The doctor said that he had had a warning. He had overexerted himself and must, in future, remember his age. He must go very carefully now.

“I shall insist,” said Harriet. “I am going to look after you, my darling.”

It was pathetic to see the way in which he relied on her, and I have to say that she nursed him well.

Carleton said: “It’s probably a good thing that it happened. It’s brought home to him the fact that he’s not the young man he has been thinking he was.”

Spring came. Edwin was himself again and Sally’s theories about witchcraft seemed ridiculous. The boys were very fond of Harriet and she seemed to be a model wife to Toby. She was soon exerting the old fascination over Edwin and Leigh as she had over my brothers and sister. She was always singing and acting for them and they enjoyed being in her company.

Uncle Toby’s eyes followed her wherever she was. “What a mother she would make,” he said.

Although I suspected her motives for marrying him, I must say that she made him happy. She was never irritable or bad tempered with him. She always called him “my darling husband” and to him she was always “my love.” He put such a wealth of feeling into the endearment that it was never used lightly, as in some cases.

Carleton had turned his attention to Edwin. He accused me of pampering him and said it was time someone took him in hand. I was a little afraid at first. I thought that he was going to wreak his resentment on my son. It occurred to me that I didn’t really know about Carleton everything a wife should know of her husband. I knew that he was strongly drawn to me; I knew that he desired me and that desire had not yet abated with familiarity. But sometimes I felt he wanted to be revenged on me. He had a strange, wild nature.

However I could not stop his supervising the outdoor education of my son, and as Leigh was with him, I supposed that it really was good for Edwin to have a man to teach him. I myself was giving them lessons and Harriet insisted on helping me. It reminded me so much of the old days at Congrève. There was a great deal of acting in the schoolroom and of course the boys loved that.

It was Carleton who said that we should have a tutor for the boys. They could not be taught forever by two women. “Besides,” he said, “I can see you making excuses that you have your schoolroom duties when I want you to come with me to London.”

It was like Carleton to act immediately, and within a few weeks of his announcing that the boys should have a tutor, Gregory Stevens arrived.

Gregory was an extremely good-looking young man, the second son of a titled family and therefore without great means but with some expectations. He was an excellent sportsman and as he was something of a scholar and interested in young people, he had decided to become a tutor for a while until those expectations were realized. Carleton said he possessed all the necessary qualifications for teaching the boys, and he was right. Gregory was strict, but he won the boys’ respect and it seemed a very good arrangement.

Harriet still insisted on going to the schoolroom to tell the boys about plays and act for them. Although Gregory Stevens had thought this unnecessary at first, he was soon agreeing that Harriet’s special knowledge and her ability to interest the boys in the literature of the day and of the past was beneficial.

Carleton was teaching them riding, shooting, falconry and fencing. Gregory Stevens helped in this and my misgivings faded when I heard the shouts of triumph when one of them scored and listened to their excited chatter. I knew that Carleton was right and I must not be so afraid of Edwin’s hurting himself that I might curb his mastery of these manly activities.

I spent a great deal of time with my daughter who was now developing a personality of her own and was a little wilful I must admit, which I said must be expected with such a father. I was angry with Carleton because he expressed so little interest in her and I determined to shower her with extra love in case she should notice her father’s neglect.

In the early spring I became pregnant again. Carleton was beside himself with joy. He was so certain that this time I was going to provide a child of the right sex. It worried me—this obsession for a boy.

He could scarcely talk of anything else. He was so tender and careful of me that I could not help enjoying that, but sometimes I was filled with misgivings.

I said to him: “What if this child should be a girl?”

“It won’t be,” he said firmly, as though he could arrange these matters. “I know I’m going to have a son this time.”

“It’s absurd,” I said. “You have a beautiful daughter and you hardly notice her.”

“You’re going to give me my son, Arabella. I knew you would from the moment I saw you.”

I began to feel apprehensive. Sally Nullens noticed it. “It’s bad for you,” she said. “Give over. Just sit back in peace and wait.”

I wished I could.

Harriet came to the bedroom often when I was alone. She liked to sit and watch me sewing a baby garment. I took a great pleasure in doing this although I was no needlewoman.

“Carleton is beside himself with joy,” said Harriet. She watched me anxiously. “You’re worried, Arabella.”

“I just want this to be over. I want to be lying in that bed with my son in his cradle beside me.”

“He is going to put Madame Priscilla’s nose out of joint.”

“No one could change my feelings for her,” I said.

“Of course not. You’re the perfect mother. Oh, Arabella, what a lot has happened to us since the old days. We are both mothers … both Eversleighs. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“That we are both Eversleighs? It did not come about without a certain contrivance.”

“That old theme! Why should it not have been contrived? Was Toby ever as happy as he is now?”

“That’s true. But being married to you must put a certain strain on him. It obviously has.”

“You mean his heart attack. I’m very careful of him, Arabella. I’m fond of him. Oh, yes, I am. Besides, what would my position be if he were to die?”

“Your home would still be here.”

“I suppose so. But the old lady doesn’t like me. Charlotte hates me. Carleton …” She laughed. “See I only have you, and you are sometimes suspicious of me. Now if I was the one who was pregnant … If I was the one who was going to have a son. Has it occurred to you that if I did, my son would be next in line to your Edwin? He’d come before this son you may … or may not have.”

There was a silence in the room. I had the sudden uneasy feeling that we were not alone.

I turned and looked over my shoulder.

Sally Nullens was standing there. She was holding a cup in her hand.

“I’ve brought you this,” she said to me. “Good, strengthening broth. Just what you need.”

It was later that night, after midnight I saw later when I was able to take note of the time. Carleton and I were asleep when we were awakened by a shout. We started up, and by the waving candlelight I made out the figure of Harriet.

“Arabella. Carleton. Come quickly,” she cried. “It’s Toby.”

We jumped out of bed, threw wraps around us and ran to the room which Toby and Harriet shared. Toby was lying in bed, his face ashen, his eyes wild.

Carleton went to him and took his wrist. Then he put his ear to his chest.

I knew as he turned that Toby was very ill.

“Shall I send for the doctor?” asked Harriet.

“Yes,” said Carleton.

She ran out of the room.

“Carleton,” I said, “is there anything we can do?”

“Get some brandy. But I’m afraid …”

I went to a sideboard and poured out some brandy. It had been kept in the room since Toby had had his first attack. Carleton lifted him and tried to pour the brandy into his mouth. It fell over his chin.

“It’s too late,” murmured Carleton. “I feared it.”

Harriet came back into the room.

“I’ve sent one of the men,” she said. “Oh, God, he looks … awful.”

“It may be too late,” said Carleton.

“No …” she whispered.

She went to stand on the other side of the bed. Carleton had gently lowered Toby down onto the pillows. We stood in silence looking at him.

Then Harriet spoke: “If only that doctor would come. How long he is!”

“The man has only just left,” Carleton reminded her. “He will be an hour at least.”

Then the silence fell again. I stood at the head of the bed—Harriet on one side of it, Carleton on the other.

Then there was a sudden gasp from behind us. Charlotte had come into the room.

“I heard running about. What’s happened?”

“He’s had an attack,” said Carleton.

“Is it … bad?”

“Very bad, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, poor, poor Uncle Toby.”

Silence again. I could hear the clock on the mantelpiece ticking. It sounded ominous.

We stood like statues round that bed. I was deeply aware of Charlotte. There was a kind of knowing look in her eyes.

Nonsense, I said. You’re overwrought. It’s your condition.

It struck me that we were like a tableau … full of meaning which I could only vaguely realize.

They were somber days that followed. “Two deaths coming so suddenly one on another,” mourned Matilda. “Oh, how I hate death. He was so content. So much in love.”

“Perhaps that was why,” said Charlotte.

I saw a shiver run through Matilda. Then she said: “He forgot he was an old man. It happens like that sometimes.”

“At least,” I reminded them, “he was happy. For the last year or so he was living in a kind of paradise.”

“What kind?” asked Charlotte. “A fool’s paradise.”

Of course she hated Harriet and had always resented the way in which she had been brought into the family.