“You should have told me before,” he said.

“You understand, Leigh?”

“Yes, I understand. It was a romantic adventure. He was in danger and we were all helping him. I understand it, Priscilla. And the result was … Carlotta. That of course makes a difference. We must see what can be done about that.”

“What do you mean? What can be done?”

“I know how you must feel about the child. Perhaps we could take her. She needs a father.”

“She has that in Gregory. He adores her.”

“She needs a mother. Harriet was never very maternal.”

“Carlotta loves her dearly, all the same. But how I should love to have her all to myself.”

“We will see what can be done.”

“Oh, Leigh,” I cried, “I am happier than I have been since … since …”

He took me in his arms and said: “It’s coming right now, Priscilla. It always had to be. You and I … I always knew it.”

He kissed me solemnly. We had plighted our troth.

Then we went back to the horses.

My mother was delighted.

She kissed me and then Leigh. “It is what I always hoped,” she said. “You always looked after her, Leigh. I remember you as a boy. You felt you ought, in the manly tradition, to despise girls, but you never could quite manage it with Priscilla, could you?”

“Never,” agreed Leigh. “Of course Priscilla was no ordinary girl.”

My father showed little enthusiasm. He quite liked Leigh, who was not unlike himself and different from Edwin, of whom he had a very poor opinion. I thought resentfully: I suppose he is glad to have his daughter taken off his hands.

“There should be no delay,” said my mother. “I daresay you will be called away, Leigh, all too soon.”

Leigh agreed that it might be so and arrangements went afoot with all speed.

Christabel came over from Grassland Manor to congratulate me. She had left plump Thomas Junior in his nurse’s charge. She hated to leave him for long but she had to come and wish me well.

She came to my room for a téte-a-téte.

Leigh had always loved me, she said. She had been envious because he had never looked at her. She lowered her gaze and said: “Priscilla, what about Carlotta?”

“He knows. I told him. I wouldn’t marry him without his knowing.”

“And he … understands?”

“Yes, he understands. He said … Oh, Christabel, this makes me so happy … he says that we must work out some plan to get her with us, so that she can be with her mother. He knows me so well. He knows exactly what I want.”

“He will be a good husband to you, Priscilla, and there is nothing so wonderful in life as a happy marriage.”

“You should know,” I said. “You are one of the fortunate ones who have achieved it.”

“And I don’t deserve it. That’s the point.”

“Nonsense. Ask Thomas whether you do or not. You have made him a very happy man.”

“Yes, he is happy, and that is something, isn’t it? At least I am responsible for that.”

“You must stop reproaching yourself, Christabel. You still do it, you know.”

“I was so envious. Envy is a deadly sin, Priscilla.”

“Well, you are rid of yours now. Wish me happiness like yours.”

“I do,” she answered, “with all my heart.”

Harriet came over a few days before the wedding accompanied by Gregory, Benjie and Carlotta.

That Harriet was delighted was obvious.

“It was what I wanted for you and Leigh,” she told me. “I can’t tell you how happy this has made me. I was an Eversleigh once … when I married Toby … and I was proud to be one. Now I shall have an Eversleigh for a daughter-in-law and I tell you this, there is no one I would rather have.”

“You have always been so good to me, Harriet. I have told Leigh about Carlotta.”

She nodded.

“It makes no difference. He still wants to marry me.”

“I should not think much of him if he did not.”

“He says that in time she should come to live with us.”

She took my hand and pressed it. “He’s right. Oh, isn’t this a lovely solution to our little drama? Wedding bells. It was always a popular finale. And so they lived happily ever after! That was always my favourite line.”

“A fairy tale ending,” I said. “But life is not a fairy tale.”

She looked at me sharply and again I had that impulse to tell her about Beaumont Granville. I must not. Nobody must know. I promised myself that I was going to forget he had ever existed. I was going to wipe out the memory of that night forever.

Leigh had to go to London. He would not go to Court but he would frequent the coffeehouses there where it was possible to pick up the latest news, for in these shops men of the Court, soldiers, politicians, wits and gossips, gathered and talked together with the utmost indiscretion.

I didn’t want him to go. I was afraid that something would happen to him. With every passing day I realized how important he was to me. I was even beginning to see that what had happened with Jocelyn was not the grande passion I had imagined it to be. Jocelyn had been a handsome boy in danger. We were alone on an island … two young people … and we had loved in a natural way. It happened so quickly. We were in love and we knew we could quickly be parted, so we foolishly snatched at those moments. We had talked of marriage. For a night we were as married people. Now I began to wonder what would have happened if he had escaped, if we had married. I was realizing that this growing emotion I felt for Leigh was strong and steady, unwavering, the sort of love I had seen between my mother and father. It was the true love, the love of endurance which nothing could change … not the flimsy stuff which is airy romance.

It was Leigh whom I loved. That was why I feared for him when he went to London, why I attempted to gather news of what was happening, why I began to fear another civil war, a rebellion … just as my mother did. And this was not due to patriotic fears for our country but simply that we were women who wanted to protect our men.

It was a great revelation. I loved Leigh and we were to be married. He knew about Carlotta and he understood. He was going to help me. He would be a wonderful father to her. I was happier than I had been for a long time, but soon I began to be haunted more than ever by memories of Beau Granville. I would dream of him. Leigh would be in that dream, and suddenly as he came towards me he would change into Beaumont Granville. I began to experience a vague apprehension.

My wedding day had almost come. The house was in a bustle of excitement. From the kitchens came the smell of roasting and baking. My mother was in a blissful state. She refused to think of possible trouble coming to the realm. Her family was about her. Edwin was married to a girl of her choice and she told me she had always wanted it to be Leigh for me. Leigh was a strong man, she said. He was not unlike my father. Such men needed special care.

“He shall have it,” I assured her.

“Leigh is a man in every way … just like your father, and you’ll be happy with him. He will take care of you and he has loved you for a long time. I am so glad, dear child, to see you settled.”

Carlotta was sleeping in my room. She was very interested in all the preparations and spent a lot of time in the kitchens watching the baking and now and then slipping a finger in some bowl to extract a delicacy, I was sure.

They pampered her down there and I knew that Ellen liked to have her seated at the table and even showed her how to stone raisins.

Old Jasper, of course, was immune to her charms. I daresay he thought her a devil’s imp with her bright colouring and obvious beauty of which he would not approve. She did not like Jasper and made no attempt to hide the fact. She told him that she did not think God would like him very much either, which I believe shook Jasper more than anything that had happened for a long time.

At night she would creep into my bed and talk to me. When I was married, I told her, she would not be able to come. I should be in the bridal chamber where lots of other brides had slept.

She listened entranced.

“When shall I marry?” she wanted to know.

“It will be years yet,” I told her.

“Will you have a baby?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Promise.”

“Promise what?”

“When you do, you’ll still love me best.”

“I shall always love you, Carlotta.”

“But best,” she said. “I want to be best.”

“Promises like that can’t be made. You have to wait and see.”

She was thoughtful, and pondering that fell asleep.

I had many gifts. Christabel had made some fine pillowcases for me, delicately embroidered as she knew so well how to do. I had more embroidered linen from Emily Philpots. Sally Nullens was delighted at the prospect of more babies, both from me and from Edwin. My mother gave me some beautiful silks, which could be made up into bed gowns and wraps as well as dresses.

“From your father and me,” she said, but I knew he had had no hand in the gift.

There was one present which was brought to the house by a messenger who would not wait for a reply. One of the servants brought it in. The messenger had said that it was to be delivered to me but would not say who had sent it. It was a flat, square package. I was very curious. I took it up to my room and opened it.

It was a picture, painted in delicate colours, of St. Mark’s Square in Venice, and the shop where I had bought the slippers was represented in it.

I knew who had sent it and if I had had any doubt, there were the initials in the corner to confirm my fears: B.G.

I felt sick with fear. What did it mean? It was clearly a reminder. He was telling me that he was still there in my life and I must not think I was rid of him.

The picture was lying on my bed. I turned away from it. I could not bear to look at it. My apprehension was growing with every minute.

What could he do to me now?

I thought then of what Leigh’s fury would be like if he ever knew. I believed he would kill Beaumont Granville. He had nearly done so once before for a lesser offence.

Leigh must never know.

I wondered if any member of the family had seen the messenger arrive. My mother might ask what had been brought. Could I show the picture? “It was someone we met in Venice,” I could say.

Leigh would see it. He would see those initials in the corner.

My impulse was to destroy it, but I decided not to do so just yet. I put it into a drawer with some kerchiefs and collars on top of it. In a few days I would destroy it, for if no one had mentioned its arrival by then, they would not do so later.

I had to compose myself before I went downstairs. I managed to do so, but a terrible shadow hung over me.

No one had seen the messenger come, and as nothing was said about what he had brought, a few days later I tore up the painting and burned it in the grate. I felt better as soon as I had done so.

It was just a mischievous gesture, I assured myself. But I was uneasy that he had known about my coming marriage. Leigh had been in London and there was no reason why our marriage should be kept a secret. He was known by too many people and naturally they would want to know whom he was marrying. I was the granddaughter of General Tolworthy, a very well-known soldier, who had distinguished himself in the Royalist cause. My father was Carleton Eversleigh, who had been a close friend of the late King. It was to be hoped that not too much had been said about the Monmouth Rebellion, but I gathered that so many people were disillusioned by the present King that there would be little rancour against my father.

In any case, I felt better when the picture was no longer there, and I tried to forget it on my wedding day.

And so we were married in the Eversleigh chapel, and even as we emerged, my arm in Leigh’s, I was deeply conscious of the secret which lay between us and I longed to tell Leigh of that fearful night, but I knew that if I did he would not rest until he had taken revenge on Beaumont Granville and that could result in the death of one of them.

I could not escape from Beaumont Granville. I loved Leigh, I was capable of passion, but Beaumont Granville was there all the time. Leigh was conscious that something was wrong. He was puzzled and hurt. I think he believed that I still hankered for Jocelyn. I could not explain that I loved him, that I wanted him only, but there was something else I could not do and that was drive from my mind the memory of that night in Dorchester.