‘I have so much to say to you.’

‘You’ll be wanting to tell us all about your broken engagement.’

‘Oh … it never seemed real somehow to me.’

‘It was real enough to be broken.’ I turned to Angelet. ‘I’ll go and tell Mother that Bastian is here.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Angelet.

‘No, you stay and talk to Bastian.’ I was half-way up the stairs before she could protest.

I went and told my mother and she went down to the hall, but I did not accompany her. Afterwards I wondered whether it looked too pointed. What I really wanted to convey was the fact that Bastian was no longer of any special interest to me.

By supper time I had still not seen him alone. Whenever I was in his company I always contrived that others should be there, and he would look at me with anguished appeal, but I was enjoying the situation. This was revenge … far better than that I had planned on Carlotta. After all, it was Bastian who was the guilty party.

It was inevitable that he should catch up with me at some time. It happened the next morning when I had gone into the gardens to gather some flowers. I had in fact arranged it should be so and I wanted it to happen in daylight in view of the house. I was a little uncertain, not so much of my love for Bastian—which I think I understood and which was based on his preference for me, so that it was not real love—but of what Phoebe called ‘the need’. That was there. I thought of lying on the cool grass with him bending over me, and I had to confess that I thought that would be pleasant—well, more than pleasant.

But my pride was urging me and that must remain stronger than my senses.

So I contrived this meeting in the garden where anything other than a change of words would be impossible.

‘Bersaba,’ he cried, ‘I have to speak to you.’

I pretended to be interested in the rose I was cutting.

‘Listen to me. I’ve come to ask you to marry me.’

I raised my eyebrows. How I should have longed to hear him say that just a short time ago. I was not yet eighteen and we were to have been married then, but now everything was changed. I had seen Sir Gervaise from London and I had to admit that although he did not appeal to me in the way Bastian had done, I liked well his elegant mode of speech and the easy manner with which he wore his clothes. He had shown me that there was a life outside this narrow country one in which we had spent out lives. I had been fascinated by the talk of Courts in which he, Carlotta and Senara had been engaged so often. I thought: I am young for marriage. If I marry Bastian I should be here for the whole of my life. Is it what I want? Don’t I want to see the world? I should like to go to London, to see the King and the Queen and the people whose names had been bandied about at our table. Carlotta’s coming has indeed changed everything and changed me too. Marriage was more than lying in feather-beds—more comfortable than the hard earth, but more binding; it was growing up, changing, seeing life from a hundred different angles. Yes, the events of the last weeks had made me realize that I was very young and inexperienced of life.

Realizing this so clearly showed me how to deal with Bastian.

I replied: ‘Thank you, Bastian. I am indeed honoured. It is good of you to think of me now that Carlotta has rejected you, but I am too young for marriage and have no intention of entering into that state yet.’

‘Bersaba, don’t be a little idiot. You’re talking like Gervaise Pondersby.’

‘That must be interesting. She preferred it, didn’t she, to your rough country speech?’

‘You’re jealous, Bersaba. There’s no need to be. I don’t know what came over me. It was like a spell. I just couldn’t help it.’

‘So you forgot that you had talked of marriage to me?’

‘I always meant it to be you, Bersaba … after what used to happen …’

‘We can forget that,’ I said sharply.

‘You can forget it?’

‘Yes,’ I said boldly, ‘and if I can you should … and it is obvious that you did.’

‘Bersaba, my dearest little Bersaba …’

‘I am not your dearest. There was one who was dearer. It is only because she preferred someone else that you are here now.’

‘I am asking you to marry me. Have you forgotten what you gave me? That is what you should only give your husband. Don’t you know that? I have seduced you, Bersaba. What would your parents say?’

‘Nothing, because they won’t know. You didn’t seduce me, Bastian. I seduced you. I wanted experience. Well, I’ve had it, and as far as I’m concerned there’s an end to the matter.’

‘You’re talking like a … like a …’

‘Yes, like a what?’

‘Like a courtesan.’

‘Perhaps that’s what I am. You thought me such, didn’t you? You were my lover and as soon as Carlotta came along you forgot me.’

‘I never forgot you, not once. And now I want to make amends.’

‘Amends.’ I knew my eyes were blazing. ‘There is no need, Bastian. Fortunately there are no … consequences. It is all over. I no longer want you. I no longer need you. Can you understand that?’

‘You’re so different, Bersaba. I can’t believe you’re the same.’

‘You find it hard to believe that I am not eager for you. That’s it, isn’t it? I’ve grown up, Bastian. You have helped me to grow up. That’s all you mean to me. I’m grateful in a way. I’m not a child any more. I know something of what life is about. I shan’t go to my husband as a shrinking virgin, shall I … thanks to you.’

‘You would never have shrunk, Bersaba.’

‘From some I should … as from you now. Bastian, I must ask you not to bother me any more.’

‘I shall speak to your parents,’ he said.

‘They would never force me to marry against my will.’ I looked down at my fingers. ‘These thorns are sharp.’ I sucked my finger without looking at him. Then I went on cutting the roses, and he stood there watching me helplessly.

My mother asked me to come to her sitting-room as she had something to say to me.

‘Bersaba,’ she said when we were alone, ‘Bastian has asked for your hand in marriage.’

‘I have already refused him, Mother.’

‘I know how you feel, my child. He was betrothed to Carlotta and she rejected him. He is impetuous. He should have waited. But it can be a long engagement. Indeed it would have to be, as both your father and I consider you too young for marriage.’

‘There is no need to consider it at all, Mother. I will not marry Bastian.’

‘You two used to seem so fond of each other.’

‘He is my cousin.’

‘That need provide no real obstacle.’

‘But it is better for cousins not to marry unless they both feel determined to because there is a great love between them.’

‘I always hoped that Bastian would marry one of you.’

‘Perhaps Angelet will oblige.’

‘My dear Bersaba, you sound a little bitter. Don’t take the affair of Carlotta too seriously. She is a very fascinating creature. You see how a noble gentleman like Sir Gervaise became so quickly attracted to her that he is going to marry her. Bastian was temporarily bemused, but he tells me he always loved you and intended to marry you.’

‘Except when he became betrothed to Carlotta.’

‘Ah, you were deeply hurt. I knew it. But it’s over.’

‘Mother, please understand. It taught me something and that is that when I marry it will not be Bastian. Never! I was fond of Bastian but I don’t love him. Please do not ask me to take him because I won’t … I won’t …’

‘You know very well that neither your father nor I would force you into a marriage which was not of your liking.’

‘Then the matter is settled.’

‘Let us leave it for a while, Bersaba. Think about it. Bastian would be a good, kind and gentle husband. He would help you slowly to realize all that marriage means.’

I smiled inwardly at the innocence of my mother, and I wondered what she would say if she knew of those passionate encounters in lonely places in the woods. She had accepted Phoebe’s dilemma. What would she have said if she now found her own daughter in such a position?

‘I will never marry Bastian,’ I said. ‘I am determined.’

She sighed and kissed me. I was sure that she believed that one day I would change my mind.

But Bastian knew I never would. He had sensed the change in me. He thought it had come about because of his entanglement with Carlotta. It had to some extent, but there was more than that. I had learned something about myself and that was that I did not know all I had thought I had. Life was bewilderingly complicated. I had much to learn and I was eager to begin. I felt I had had all I needed from Bastian.

A few days passed. I was coolly aloof and now did not care if I was alone with him, and because I could compare him with Sir Gervaise he no longer seemed the handsome young god he had. I no longer felt the urge to embrace him.

I was free from my ardent desires for a while.

He understood more than my parents could because they had no idea of how far our relationship had progressed.

Before he left, Bastian asked my father if he could join in his enterprise and go to sea with him and Fennimore when they left.

It was a hasty decision, said my father. He must not think that because I had refused his offer of marriage that was the end of the old way of life.

Bastian implored him to consider him and my father eventually said he would.

So he left us, and in due course we heard that Carlotta had become Lady Pondersby and was living in some state in a mansion not far from London and Senara was with her.

My father decided that he could find a place for Bastian, and in September of that year when my father and brother sailed away, Bastian was with them.

Just before they left a messenger arrived from London, with letters from Sir Gervaise to my father, and among these was one for our mother from Senara and one for Angelet and myself from Carlotta.

Angelet and I seized it and with great excitement took it up to our bedroom to read it.

‘My dear twins,’ she had written.

‘I wished that you could have come to my wedding. You would have been so interested to see how these matters are conducted here. I have been thinking of you there in the country and what fun it would be if you came to visit me. You said you always wanted to see London. Well, now is your chance.

I am writing to your mother to tell her that this is an invitation.

I hope she will spare you.

We had an exhausting journey to London, but it was worthwhile to be here, and my mother and I did so much enjoy our little sojourn in the country.

I shall hope to see you both, or if both cannot be spared at the same time, then one of you.

I look forward to hearing your news.

Carlotta.’

Angelet and I looked at each other with sparkling eyes.

‘To London,’ we cried.

Angelet threw herself into my arms and said, ‘We’ll both go. One of us couldn’t stay behind. I wouldn’t let you go without me.’

‘Nor you without me.’

‘We should need clothes.’

‘We’ll take Phoebe. We shall need a maid.’

‘It will be wonderful to see London. Do you think we shall see the King and Queen?’

‘She said to London, not to Court.’

‘Yes, but Carlotta goes to Court, doesn’t she? So perhaps she’ll take us.’

Angelet turned out all her clothes from the cupboard. She tried them on, smiling, frowning. She was very excited.

When we saw our mother we realized that she was not so happy at the suggestion.

‘You can’t go,’ she told us. ‘Not yet. Your father is going and Fennimore with him …’ She looked so woebegone that Angelet cried: ‘Of course we won’t go, Mother. I’d forgotten. You’d be all on your own.’ Then she was smiling. ‘But why shouldn’t you come with us?’

‘I’d have to be here for when your father comes back.’

‘But he’s only just gone. He’ll be away for months.’

‘We’ll see,’ said our mother; but I knew that she did not want us to go.

When our father had left we paid another visit to Castle Paling. My mother and Aunt Melanie talked a great deal about Senara’s suggestion, and my mother said she feared the difficulties of the journey and she would be very anxious for her girls travelling without her. If she could have gone it would have been different, but she was never sure when my father would be home. He had just left, it was true, but sometimes there were reasons for returning almost at once. She had never felt she could leave the Priory when Fenn was away and when he was there she must be there with him.