“Well, let us hope she will make a more lively Court than the present one,” said Harriet. “I like not these dour rulers. Charles was so different. I for one shall never stop regretting his passing.”

It was the middle of December when we set out. Harriet had said we should go before the really cold weather set in which was usually after Christmas. Carlotta was very excited at the prospect, though every now and then she would remember Robert and a certain sadness would settle on her. Knowing her so well I realized that she felt guilty because she found it possible to be happy in spite of his death.

I was pleased to see this sensitivity in her. She was not completely selfish—only young, full of vitality which deplored inaction, and if she took admiration as her right, it was because so much of it had come her way.

We had arranged to stay at the Eversleigh town house which was very close to Whitehall. It was not Carlotta’s first visit to London, but she seemed to be seeing it all through different eyes. She was now an heiress. Her eyes danced with pleasure and there was a wild anticipation in them. I was sure she was contemplating all she would do when she reached the magic age of eighteen.

It was difficult not to get caught up in the excitement of London. Those of us who lived quietly in the country could not but be amazed by the vitality, the bustle, the sheer joy of living which was generated in those streets.

They were less unsavoury, Harriet said, than they had been before the great fire, and some of the new buildings which Christopher Wren had set up were very fine. It was no less noisy, no less colourful than before the plague and fire had decimated so much of it.

“How beautiful it is!” cried Carlotta as we rode along the Strand past the large houses with their gardens running down to the river. Little boats rocked at the privy stairs and all along the waterway, craft of every description passed by. The songs of the watermen wafted towards us, vague and haunting among the noise of the streets.

Harriet pointed out some of the new coffeehouses which were springing up here and there and taking the town by storm. “Mind you,” she explained, “beverages stronger than coffee can be obtained there. The company can get a little wild as the night wears on.”

“Shall we go to a coffeehouse?” asked Carlotta.

“I hardly think it would be the place for us,” I said.

Carlotta grimaced at me. “Dear Priscilla,” she said, “you would be perfectly safe with me.” She glanced at Gregory. “You would take me, wouldn’t you?”

Gregory gave a little laugh and murmured: “We’ll see.” He always found it hard to give Carlotta a direct refusal.

We had come into the Mall and Harriet was again sighing for the days of Charles’s reign when he himself could often be seen here watched with admiration while he played the game which gave the thoroughfare its name.

“You should have seen him,” said Harriet. “No one could drive a ball as he could. It would go halfway down the Mall, as I heard it said by an old soldier, ‘As though it were shot from a smoking culverin.’ One cannot imagine his present Majesty performing such a feat.”

“It is no use sighing for the old days,” I said. “Let us be thankful that we have a King who appears to know how to govern.”

“Even though he keeps the dullest Court in Europe.”

“The parks are beautiful,” sighed Carlotta.

“Yes,” said Gregory, “I always enjoyed the parks, and we have our share of them. I think the people would cause a riot if anyone attempted to take our parks from us. St. James’s is beautiful, as you say, and there are Hyde Park and Spring Gardens and Mulberry Gardens.”

“But not to be entered after dark,” interposed Harriet. “Even though one was masked, one would be suspected of being there for a purpose—but enough of that.”

Flower girls and orange girls threaded their way through the crowds, and there were milkmaids laden with their wares. Coaches passed us in which sat patched and powdered ladies; occasionally we saw a dandy pull down his window and chat with a lady in a passing coach.

We had come into Town just after noon, which was the busiest time of the day. At two o’clock the streets would be quiet, for two o’clock was dinnertime for most people, and at four o’clock the streets would be full again with people making their way to the playhouses.

Carlotta had difficulty in keeping her eyes from the displays of ribbons and laces and fine garments which were displayed on the stalls and in the booths. Harriet promised her that they would do a great deal of shopping during the visit.

We reached our house where everything had been made ready for our coming. Dinner was served and Carlotta immediately wanted to go out. I reminded her that it would soon be dark and I thought that we should wait until morning. She was disappointed, and after dinner went to a window and sat there looking out on the Town.

The following day we went shopping in the New Exchange in the Strand. This was almost like a bazaar, with an upper gallery full of stalls displaying the most exciting merchandise. Carlotta cried out with delight as she examined the silks, ribbons and laces; and we bought material for new gowns.

Ladies, some of whom I was sure were of questionable virtue, sauntered through the Exchange. They glanced from right to left and were clearly looking for interested gallants. Some of these were very glorious to behold in their velvet cloaks, silken breeches and feathered hats, and very often they carried Toledo swords at their sides. Many of them were followed by their pages and looked very grand indeed. I saw many glance Carlotta’s way and I was glad that she was too interested in what she was buying to notice them.

We had come to a booth where fans were on display. We paused, for Carlotta wanted to buy a fan. There was one she found which was very beautiful and decorated with brilliants. She opened it and began to fan herself.

“I must have it,” she said. “It is lovely. It will match the new silk I have bought.”

Then I found myself turning quite cold, as though someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over me. Standing at the next stall was a man whose face I should never forget if I lived to be a hundred. It was a face which still came to me in my dreams and filled me with terror.

Beaumont Granville was buying cravats at the next stall.

“What do you think of it?” I heard Carlotta’s voice from a long way off. Time seemed to have stood still and everything was happening very slowly, for Beaumont Granville had turned at the sound of Carlotta’s voice and he had seen me.

I saw the smile of recognition turn up the corners of his mouth. I saw his gaze go from Harriet to Carlotta and rest on her fleetingly. She was holding the fan up to her lips and gazing at me over the top of it.

I was saying: “I want to go home. I feel … er …”

I was aware of them all looking at me. Harriet’s deep blue eyes curious, Carlotta’s anxious.

I turned sharply. I had to get away from that amused stare, from those eyes which would always be for me the most cruel in the world.

I caught my foot in the cobblestones and I should have fallen if Harriet had not caught me. A sharp pain shot through my ankle.

“What happened?” asked Harriet.

I did not answer. I stooped and touched my ankle.

Then I heard his voice, which I remembered so well-musical, gentle, beguiling, and I felt as if I were in one of those nightmares which had afflicted me since that night I had spent in his odious company. “If I can be of any assistance …”

He was bowing to Harriet, to Carlotta, to me.

I said very quickly: “Thank you. Everything is all right.”

“How kind of you!” Harriet’s voice was extremely courteous. I had realized that he was still as handsome as ever. Harriet always changed subtly at the advent of a man, of whatever age, however unattractive. It was Harriet’s way.

“I am perfectly all right,” I insisted hastily.

“You’ve hurt your ankle,” said Carlotta.

“It’s nothing … absolutely nothing. I can feel nothing …”

“I have a friendly apothecary close by,” said Beaumont Granville. “He would look at it and verify that you had not injured it. For if you have a broken bone it would be dangerous to walk on it.”

“I feel nothing at all.”

“You have gone very pale,” said Carlotta. “Hasn’t she?”

Her lovely face betrayed her anxiety. I was too worried to think clearly. I reminded myself that at all costs I must not show agitation, but how could I be calm when I feared him so much?

“You must allow me to help,” he went on. “My apothecary friend is here in the Exchange.” He had taken a parcel from Harriet. “Allow me.” He laid a hand on my arm and his eyes looked mockingly into mine. “I really think you should see this man. A bandage may be necessary even if it is only a strain.”

“You are very kind, sir,” said Carlotta.

“I am delighted to be at your service.”

“It would be churlish to refuse such kindness,” added Harriet.

“Yes, Priscilla,” said Carlotta, “you must see this apothecary. It hurts. I can see that.”

“Then,” added Beaumont Granville, “the matter is settled. May I lead the way?”

I was limping badly. I had twisted my ankle but I was unaware of the pain. I could only ask myself what cruel trick of fate this was which had brought him back into my life.

I did not trust him for one moment. I wanted to tell him to go, to explain to them that I knew from experience that this man was no fit company for decent people.

Carlotta had slipped her arm through mine.

“Does it hurt, Priscilla?”

“No, no. This is nonsense. I’d like to go home without delay.”

Beaumont Granville was standing on the other side of me.

“Would you care to take my arm, to lean on me?” he asked solicitously.

“It is not necessary, thank you.”

“Well, it is only a few steps,” he said and led the way.

There was a smell of scents and unguents in the apothecary’s shop. We took a step down into the dark exterior and a man in a yellow coat came hurrying to meet us. He bowed low when he saw Beaumont Granville and was prepared to be extremely subservient. It was clear that he was a most respected customer.

“My lord,” he asked, “what can I do for you?”

Beaumont Granville explained that I had hurt my ankle and he wanted the apothecary to look at it and see what damage had been done and perhaps supply an unguent and a bandage or whatever was necessary.

He would indeed. He looked round and found a stool on which I was immediately seated. He then knelt and probed my ankle. I caught my breath with pain.

He looked up at Beaumont Granville who was watching me intently.

“No bones broken,” he said. “Just a little twist … nothing that cannot be cured quickly.”

“Have you something to put on it?” asked Harriet.

“The very thing. I’ll bind it up and then the lady should rest for a day or so … and all will be well.”

“Then get to it,” said Beaumont Granville. He turned to Harriet. “You ladies were shopping. Why do we not leave our patient here to be bandaged while we continue with what we have to do? We can return when she is ready to leave. Have you a coach? She should not walk.”

“We could return home and bring it,” Harriet explained. “As we were shopping and we are but near Whitehall, we came on foot.”

“She must not walk far. Leave it to me. I will take you back in my carriage.”

“You are too good to us, sir,” cried Harriet.

“It is my pleasure to serve you,” he answered.

“It seems a good idea, Priscilla,” said Harriet.

I did not answer. I felt sick with anxiety.

The apothecary was shaking something in a bottle. I was thinking: Granville can do no harm yet. But what does it mean? What can it mean?

“Then we shall see you later,” said Harriet.

“Say half an hour?” suggested Granville.

The apothecary agreed that I should be ready to leave by that time.

“It seems the best thing,” said Carlotta. “And then we must get you home.”

I watched them leave. At the door he turned and looked back at me. I could not guess what was in his mind, but I was deeply conscious of that mocking amusement.

I was nauseated by the scents of the shop. I sat on the stool and removed my stocking. My ankle was very swollen.

The apothecary knelt at my feet and put something cooling on the afflicted part. It soothed my ankle but nothing could soothe my mind.