‘Oh dear, I shall never sleep tonight. Shall I have a little of the sleeping draught?’

‘Well, perhaps you are over excited. It might be a good time to try it.’

I went to my room and brought out the bottle.

I gave her the appointed dose and said I would sit with her until she slept.

Within fifteen minutes of taking it she fell into a deep sleep. I sat there for some time, thinking about the cupboard and the bolted door. I believed that there was a corridor into the castle and I had discovered it.

I awoke in the night and went into Angelet’s room; she was still sleeping, and in the morning I asked if she had slept through the night and she assured me that she had.

Civil War

THE NEXT DAY I made an excuse to go to the kitchen, and then I noticed that the key to the cupboard had been removed and guessed that Mrs Cherry or someone had suspected my interest and was determined that my explorations should cease.

I was almost certain that there was a corridor leading from the kitchen into the castle, and since the castle was forbidden as unsafe, naturally the existence of the corridor would be kept a secret.

Then I ceased to think about the matter, for that afternoon Luke Longridge rode over. It was the first time he had called at Far Flamstead because Richard had never asked him, and in view of the fact that relations must be rather strained between them after that proposed duel about which Angelet had told me, this was not surprising. Richard had, however, raised no objection to our visiting them. True, there had been nothing formal about our visits and we met them more by chance than anything else.

It was Phoebe who came to tell me that Mr Longridge had called and was asking for me, so I went down to the hall where he waited uneasily. I thought something must be wrong and asked him what.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to talk to you. Could you get a wrap and come out into the gardens?’

‘Can’t you talk here?’ I asked.

‘As I am not sure whether General Tolworthy would welcome me in his house, I would prefer it if you would come outside.’

I said I would get a wrap and I sent Phoebe for it.

When we were outside, I led him to the enclosed garden. It was too chilly to sit, so we walked round as we talked.

‘You will wonder at the urgency,’ he said, ‘but it is not a hasty matter on my part, for I have thought about it continuously for some time. You have been in my thoughts since our first meeting and each day I have hoped that you would ride by.’

‘You and your sister have always given us a good welcome and both my sister and I have enjoyed our visits.’

‘No doubt you are aware of my regard for you. I had not thought to marry. There is so much I want to do, but it is natural for a man to take a wife. I hope this does not seem incongruous to you, but I have come to ask you to marry me.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I am deeply in earnest. I am not a rich man, but I have the farm and some assets. We are not exactly poor.’

‘I do not assess people by their worldly goods.’

‘Indeed you do not. You are too wise for that. The rich man of today can be the poor man of tomorrow. The treasures of the heart and mind are those of value.’

‘Why do you wish to marry me?’ I asked.

‘Because I love you. I could be happy with you. I could make you happy, and the simple fact is that I shall never know happiness without you.’

‘I thought you did not believe in happiness.’

‘You mock me.’

‘No, I seek to know you.’

‘There is nothing in the Bible against a man’s marrying. It is a worthy action to take.’

‘But what if you should find pleasure in your marriage?’

‘That would find favour in the eyes of God.’

‘Carnal pleasure?’ I said. He was startled. He looked at me in amazement. I said: ‘We are not children. We must know the reason for our actions. I want to ask you if the thought of carnal pleasure makes you feel you would be happy to live with me.’

‘How strangely you talk, Bersaba. Hardly like a …’

‘Like a Puritan? But I am not a Puritan. I believe you want me as men will want women and offer marriage for that reason. I merely wish to know.’

He stepped nearer to me. ‘You enchant me,’ he said. ‘I will admit I want you in this way. I can only be happy with you. Bersaba, you don’t answer. Will you marry me?’

‘No,’ I said, almost triumphantly, for I had made him admit to carnal desires; and then that perverse side of my nature was there and I was sorry for him. ‘I could only marry if I loved … as one loves a lover. I make no secret of my needs. I do not love you in that way, though I respect you and like you as my friend. That is the answer, Luke, and I have nothing more to say.’

‘Bersaba, you will think of this?’

‘It would do no good.’

‘I suppose they will take you to London and there will be balls and banquets …’

‘And extravagances,’ I said.

‘And there you will find a man who will make you rich.’

‘I do not look for riches. I told you that, Luke.’

He turned away and I laid my hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘But if you really knew me you would not admire me. You want me, yes, I know that, but you would not be happy with me. Your conscience would worry you. You would find too much pleasure in me. You are a Puritan … I don’t know what I am, but it is not that. You will find a wife more suitable, Luke, and you will then thank me and God for this day.’

‘You are so different from everyone else,’ he said.

‘That is why you should avoid me. You don’t know me. I’m not of your kind. Try not to feel too badly. I shall call on your sister as I did before and we’ll be friends. We’ll talk. We’ll fight our verbal battles and enjoy each other’s company. Go now, Luke. Don’t be downhearted. This is for the best. I know it.’

Then I left him and ran into the house.

The next day Richard returned. I heard arrivals and went out into the courtyard to see who had come, and there he was dismounting while the groom took charge of his horse.

Forgetting decorum in my pleasure at seeing him, I had run forward holding out my hands. He seized them and held them for a moment, looking into my face searchingly, I thought, and I felt my spirits soaring, for I believed in that moment that he knew.

‘Bersaba,’ he said, and there was something about the way in which he said my name which sounded like a lover speaking to his mistress, but almost immediately he was cool and looking as I had so often seen him look. ‘I’m back for a brief stay,’ he said. ‘Where is Angelet?’

She too had heard and came out into the courtyard.

He took her hands as he had taken mine and kissed her cheek.

‘You are well?’ he asked solicitously.

‘Oh yes, Richard. And you? How long will you be with us? Are the troubles over?’

‘As usual I can’t say how long and the troubles are by no means over. They increase with every day.’

He slipped his arm through hers and then looked round for me. I went to him and he took my arm, and thus linked we went into the hall.

I warned myself that I must not betray this wild excitement which took possession of me. I must overcome it. I must remember that this was my sister’s husband.

We supped as usual in the intimate parlour. He seemed almost tender to Angelet.

‘Are you sure you are feeling well?’ he asked her. ‘You look a little tired.’

‘She has not been sleeping very well,’ I told him.

He was concerned and Angelet murmured that it was nothing.

As the meal progressed he talked a great deal about what was going on. A new Parliament had met, and although many of its members had sat with that which had assembled in the previous April and was now known as the Short Parliament, there were some new members. ‘They are determined,’ said Richard, ‘to end all grievances and pull them up by the roots. This bodes ill for men like Wentworth, the Earl of Strafford, and Archbishop Laud.’

As usual he talked to me of these matters, and afterwards he said he had work to do and retired to the library.

I went to my room. Angelet was already in the Blue Room. I was excited and she was in fear. I believe that she nourished this aversion to an abnormal proportion. She admired her husband beyond all men; she was proud to be his wife; she would have been completely happy in her marriage if these nightly duties were not part of the contract.

Of course it would seem unnatural if she did not spend the night with him, for he had been away so long and would expect it.

‘What’s the matter, Angelet?’ I asked, knowing full well, and she answered: ‘I don’t know. I feel the toothache coming on.’ She looked at me appealingly, reminding me of the days of her childhood when she had been afraid of going to some part of the Priory in the dark and would make up all sorts of excuses not to go.

She does not want him, I thought. She is afraid of him. That which I long for, she fears. I had been the resourceful one in our childhood, and I felt that she was asking me now—as she often had in the past—to find a way out for her.

My heart started to beat fast as I said: ‘You must have some of the Cherry cure.’

‘It makes me so sleepy.’

‘That is what you need.’

‘Richard has only just come home.’

‘He will understand.’

Her expression lightened and she looked at me adoringly. I was once more the sister on whom she could rely.

‘I’ll give you a dose,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll tuck you in and then I’ll go down to the library to tell him. You’ll be all right tomorrow. He realizes that.’

‘Oh, Bersaba, do you think …’

My hands trembled a little as I poured out the dose.

I helped her to bed and sat with her until she slept, which was soon. She looked so happy and relaxed in sleep that my conscience was eased.

I will go to tell him, I promised myself, I will confess what I have done and tomorrow I will make plans to go home. I will explain to him that she is afraid and that she needs time to grow accustomed to what is now distasteful to her. I knew that he would understand if I could tell him.

I went to the library. He was not there.

I would find him in the bedchamber. Perhaps he had already gone to Angelet’s room to look for her, perhaps he would try to rouse her from her drugged sleep. I had promised her I would explain. So must I, but more than she realized; and then tomorrow I would make plans to leave for Cornwall, and hope that in time they would find happiness together.

I went to the bedchamber and knocked on the door. It was swiftly opened. He took my hand and drew me in.

‘Angelet,’ he said, and there was a note in his voice which I had never heard before when he said her name.

The temptation swept over me. I could impersonate her perfectly. Perhaps once more … and then I would explain. My resolutions had crumbled, but I did protest as he embraced me, realizing even as I did so that that would make me even more like Angelet.’

I cried: ‘I have to speak to you, Richard.’

‘Later,’ he murmured. ‘There will be plenty of time to talk. I have been thinking of you, longing for you …’

There was that in his voice, in the touch of his hands, which moved me deeply. More than anything I wanted to please him, to comfort him, to make him happy. If Angelet had suffered from her frigidity, so must he. My love for him overwhelmed me. Why not … just for tonight. Then I would go away. And so it was.

He gave no sign that he knew I was not my sister.

I was awakened by strange noises. I started up, horror dawning on me. I was in the four-poster bed and Richard was beside me.

I could not describe the noise, but I knew that someone was in the room. I heard a crash as though a stool were being thrown, and there was wild demonical laughter, followed by snarling noises such as a wild animal might make.

Richard had thrown back the curtains and was out of bed.

I followed.

He had lighted a candle and I cried out in fear, for something horrible was in the room. In those first seconds I had not thought it human; it was like something conjured up in a nightmare. But it was human. It was a child, with wild tousled hair and arms so long that they almost reached the ground. The body was bent forward and the creature shuffled. Its lips were loose, its eyes wild—mad, murderous eyes.