‘But … isn’t that what I am?’

‘Assuredly you are. That is why we shall have to work hard to make you otherwise.’

She sat down on a chair and laughed at me.

‘You look startled. You are in London—where society is smart. I can assure you it is a little different from Cornwall.’

‘I am sure it is. Perhaps …’

‘Perhaps what?’

‘As I am so unsuitable I should go back.’

‘We’ll make you suitable. It’s just a matter of time. And you can’t go back. Your sister is ill. That’s why you’re here. I doubt your mother would ever have submitted you to the wicked ways of the world but for that.’

She laughed again and I said coldly, ‘I seem to amuse you.’

‘Oh, you do. And you’ll amuse yourself. In a month’s time I’ll remind you of what you are like now and you’ll laugh like mad.’

‘I’m sorry I’m so unsatisfactory,’ I said.

‘Never mind. It’s a challenge. You’ll soon grow up here. That’s the difference really. You are young for your age.’

‘I shall not be eighteen until next birthday.’

‘But eighteen in your dear old Priory is not quite the same as being eighteen in the outside world. You’ll see.’

I said: ‘Where is your mother?’

‘She is on a visit at the moment. She’ll be delighted that you’re here. She always wanted to do something for Tamsyn’s girls and said it was a pity you were condemned to life in the country.’

‘And your husband?’

‘Gervaise is at Court. We have a residence close to Whitehall and I am there often. We are not so far from Whitehall here, so it is not really like being in the country.’

‘Are you happy in your marriage?’

‘Life has been amusing,’ she answered.

‘Is that the same as being happy?’

‘I assure you, my little country mouse, it is the essence of contentment.’

I was uneasy. I disliked being talked down to. Bersaba would have known how to deal with the situation much better than I did. Oh, how I missed her. I was realizing more and more how much I had always turned to her when I was not sure how to act.

Carlotta was aware of my discomfiture and seemed to enjoy it.

‘You will soon fall into our ways,’ she said, ‘and how glad you will be that you have escaped the dull life. Now let us be practical.’

Later she showed me the house, introduced me to some of the servants, examined my wardrobe in detail and discarded most of it.

She said I would be tired after my journey, that I should retire early and tomorrow I could start my new life.

We ate together in a small room off the main hall as we did at home when we were just the family, and she talked all the time about her life, how exciting it was and how different I was going to find it, behaving all the time as though she were my benefactress.

As soon as supper, was over she said I should go to my room and sleep, for she was sure I was tired out. I was certainly glad to escape.

Mab came in and helped me get to bed, but when I lay there I could not sleep. I kept thinking of how Carlotta and Senara had arrived at the Castle and how Grandfather Casvellyn had looked like an angry prophet when he had said no good would come of their return into our lives.

Now Bersaba was ill and perhaps I should never see her again. I felt bereft. We were as one. How could I go on living without her?

I could not stop thinking of her lying in that room we had shared for so many years while the dread disease afflicted her. Bersaba tossing in fever, delirious … no longer my calm self-possessed sister—the clever part of us, the one whom I had thought I should never have to do without.

A few days passed during which I did not go far afield. Carlotta was anxious that I should not until I was adequately dressed and, as she said, had cast off some of my country manners, which she made me feel would be despised in London. I must learn to walk with more dignity, hold my head high, to move with grace, to bow, to curtsey and to overcome a certain accent which would not be acceptable in London society.

I allowed myself to be primed and took an interest in it, largely because it turned my mind from brooding on what was happening at home. I had to shut out the thought of Bersaba’s face on the pillow—fevered, her eyes wild, and the horrible signs of her illness upon her. I kept telling myself that I could do no good by dwelling on it, so I meekly allowed myself to be turned into a copy of a town-bred girl.

Carlotta was certainly enjoying the operation. I wondered whether she enjoyed scoring over us for some reason. Although I was parted from Bersaba I still thought of us together, and I asked myself now whether Carlotta had taken up Bastian as she did because she knew of Bersaba’s fondness for him. It seemed that that might be characteristic of her.

On the third day after my arrival Senara returned. She embraced me warmly and seemed really pleased to see me, and asked a good many questions about Bersaba. I had the impression that she really cared about my mother.

‘Poor Tamsyn,’ she said. ‘I can picture her distress. She was always more like a mother to me than a sister, though she was but a year older. She mothered everyone … even her own mother. I know she will be in great distress. I am glad to have you here with us and I shall write to your mother and tell her so.’

She was more sympathetic and understanding than her daughter, and I was able to talk to her and tell her how homesick I was and how I was wondering whether I ought to go home as Carlotta did not seem to think I fitted into the London scene.

She shook her head. ‘You have a certain charm, Angelet, which is appealing and I am sure many people here will appreciate it. Your fresh country innocence will seem charming to people who are weary of the society ways which are often false.’

‘Carlotta wants to change me.’

‘We must see that she doesn’t succeed too well.’

Senara certainly comforted me, particularly when she talked about her childhood and how she and my mother had been as close as sisters. ‘I know how you feel about Bersaba,’ she said. ‘Of course your mother and I were not twins, but the manner in which I came to the castle made her feel she had to protect me, and I always enjoyed that motherly security she threw around me. She does it to many. It’s her way.’

So I felt better when Senara returned, and when I went riding with her and we passed along by the river I was temporarily forgetful of everything but the wonder of it, for as we approached the city the boats on the river were so numerous that they almost touched each other.

Senara was pleased at my wonder. She told me that I was in the greatest port in the world and that ships came here from every place I could imagine. I was excited and comforted to see some of the ships from my father’s East India Company because that made me feel that I was not so very far away. How wonderful they looked! How powerfully built! They were equipped to face the storms they would meet at sea as well as armed against pirates! Then I began to wonder what my father was doing now—and Fennimore and Bastian—and fear touched me that some ill might befall them and if Bersaba were to die …

Senara, glancing at me, saw the misery in my face and she said kindly: ‘Everything will come out well, I promise you.’

‘How can you know?’ I asked.

‘I know these things,’ she told me. I thought: She is a witch, and I wanted to believe she was so that I could assure myself that she was right.

She showed me the wharves where goods were being unloaded—some by the Company’s ships and others from Amsterdam, Germany, Italy and France. I could not help being enthralled, and after that a little of the burden of fear lightened. Senara had said that all would be well and that meant that my family would be safe. I believed Senara. As a witch she could have special knowledge of these matters.

The days which had seemed endless by the end of the first week began to fly past. I had a new wardrobe now and I was pleased that my clothes were looser than those we had worn in the country. Ana, who was a good seamstress, told me that the stiff fashions which had once come from Spain were quite outmoded now. Farthingales were never worn and one did not put stiffening under skirts to make them stand out. Ruffs were completely of the past, so were high collars, and it was smart and becoming to wear low-cut dresses. The wrists and arms were often shown and some of my new gowns had sleeves which came only to the elbow. When I wore these I had long gloves and a great deal of attention was paid to getting the right ones.

Ana dressed my hair too. She gave me a fringe of curls on my forehead which had to be crimped each day.

Mab, like myself, had to go through a certain tuition. I think she enjoyed it, for she started to give herself airs and talk disparagingly of the poor maids at Trystan who had no idea what fashion meant.

I was beginning to feel that but for the anxieties about what was happening at home and if Bersaba could have been with me, my trip to London would have been a great adventure.

Sir Gervaise appeared a few days after my arrival. He was kind and asked solicitously after my family. He was quite clearly concerned and I thought he was much more kindly than his wife and I wondered if he was happy in his marriage. I believed that Carlotta would be a demanding and not very affectionate wife. Of course he admired her beauty, which was something one could not help but be aware of. When I looked at myself in the mirror with my fashionable fringe and my rather bony wrists I often thought what a contrast I made to the elegant magnificance of Carlotta. She seemed to be aware of it too, for she viewed me with great complacency.

So I began to feel a little happier, for Senara’s certainty that all would be well and Sir Gervaise’s gentleness were of great help to me.

Every day I would hope for a message from home, but Senara said: ‘It is as yet too early. Your mother would wait to tell you until she was certain that the crisis was over. I promise you it will be, but remember it will take a little time for the messenger to get here.’

Sir Gervaise told me that he knew several people who had suffered from the smallpox and survived. Careful nursing, the sickness taken in time … these things worked wonders!

They did all they could to sustain me, and I began to accept their conviction. All will be well, I told myself. It must be. There could not be a world without Bersaba.

I dreamed of her; it was as though she were with me, laughing at my fringe and my shyness with Carlotta. It was almost as though she injected some of her qualities into me. Sometimes I used to think: We are really one person, and I believed she was thinking of me at that moment as she lay on her sick-bed, just as I was thinking of her, so that part of me seemed in that bed of fever and part of her was here in this elegant house learning something of fashions and ways of London society.

I liked to listen to Sir Gervaise talking. He knew that I was interested and seemed to enjoy it when I listened so intently.

He told me that he was rather concerned about the way in which the country was moving. The King could not be aware of his growing unpopularity and the Queen did nothing to help.

‘The people here are suspicious of her,’ he said, ‘because she is a Catholic and she will do all she can to bring Catholicism into England. Not that she could ever succeed. The people here will never have it. Ever since Bloody Mary’s reign they have set their hearts against it.’

I asked about the King and he told me: ‘A man of great charm, of good looks—for all he is of small stature—and perfect manners. But he will never win the popularity of the people. He is too aloof. They do not understand him nor he them. He is proud, with a firm belief that God set the King on the throne and that his right to be there is unquestioned. I fear it will bring trouble … to him and the country.’ He looked at me and smiled. ‘I am wearying you. Forgive me.’

‘Indeed you are not,’ I assured him. ‘I long to learn something of what is happening at Court.’

‘I fear,’ he said ominously, ‘that before long the whole country will be aware of what is happening at Court.’

I gradually began to understand what he meant, and my education began the next day when Carlotta took me into London to buy lace and other materials such as ribbons, gloves and a fan or two. We went in style, for Sir Gervaise, being a rich and important gentleman, was the owner of a coach, and because Carlotta had the ability to wheedle anything out of him, she persuaded him to allow her to use it. It was grand, like a padded box with seats for two at the back and front and a window with velvet drapes which could be pulled if one wished to shut out the street scene. Sir Gervaise’s family crest was emblazoned on the side and it was drawn by two magnificent white horses. The driver was resplendent in the Pondersby livery and so was the footman mounted at the back.