“Please don’t joke. I love you. I’ve always loved you and always will. But that is no reason why you should sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Who’s talking of sacrifice?”

“I am.”

“Well, I am not. I’ve made it a habit of my life to do what I want, and what I want is to marry you. I intend to be mistress of Grasslands. Mrs. Jessica Barrington. No, Mrs. Edward Barrington. Doesn’t that sound fine? I shall bully you, rather as Lady Pettigrew does his lordship. Have you noticed? It’s better you don’t. You might jilt me, if you did.”

“You’re joking about a very serious matter.”

“It’s very serious to me, and I am going to marry you, Edward … just as we arranged before this happened.”

“Jessica … no. Think.”

“I have thought and I know what I want. You will be jilting me if you refuse to marry me and I shall be wretched.”

“How can it be a real marriage? You are so young… you don’t understand.”

“Edward Barrington, since I was ten years old, I hated to be told how young I was. When I am forty I might like it, but I have not yet reached that stage. And until I do, no more talk about youth, please. I know what I want and I am going to have it.”

“I beg of you not to rush into this.”

“I’m not rushing. I have given the matter serious thought, and this is the unshakable decision I have come to.”

He took my hand and kissed it. “I trust you will never regret it. I shall do my best to make sure you never do. And if at any time you find the situation intolerable …”

I put my hand over his mouth. I was deeply moved. I loved him far more as a broken man than I ever had when he was strong and well.

When the Barringtons knew that I was determined on marriage with Edward, Mrs. Barrington embraced me and wept. She told me how she admired me, how happy I had made her, and how much she thanked God that Edward had won the love of a good woman. I was embarrassed to hear myself described thus, but Mr. Barrington also embraced me and called me his brave and beloved little daughter.

My own parents were less enthusiastic. They both came to my room to talk seriously to me.

“You’re being rash,” said my father.

“Darling Jessica,” said my mother, “do you realize what this entails? You’ll be married to an invalid. Edward’s injuries are such…”

“I know. I know,” I replied. “You mean no normal… what you call family life. No children.”

“Yes, my dear, that’s what I mean.”

“I shall be happy looking after Edward.”

“At first perhaps …”

“You’ve got some idea about nobility and that sort of thing,” said my father. “Believe me, life is not like that.”

“It may not be for some,” I insisted, “but I intend it shall be for me.”

“You are young and inexperienced of the world …” began my mother.

“If anyone else calls me young again I shall…”

My father grinned at me. “What will you do, eh?”

“I really do know what I want to do.”

He took me by the shoulders. “Yes. You know what you are doing today … tomorrow and perhaps for a little while. But there will come a day. Someone will come along …”

I said angrily: “We are not all like you.”

“Human nature does not vary so very much, dear child,” he said. “Some of us go more in one direction than others … but we are all frail at heart.”

“I can see she has made up her mind,” said my mother.

“And she is like you, my dear wife. Once she has, she is inclined to be obstinate.”

“I think we shall have to accept this,” went on my mother. “Dearest Jessica, if at any time you are in doubt… or trouble of any sort, you know your father and I will understand and help.”

I looked at them both—the two people I loved most in the world. I embraced them both.

“I know,” I said. “But I have to do this. I would never be happy again if I did not marry Edward now.”

They accepted that, but they were very uneasy, I knew. There was a great deal of discussion as to what arrangements should be made. Mr. Barrington said he would go back to Nottingham and take over the management of the factory. Edward should return to Grasslands.

Clare Carson, who had been deeply shocked by what had happened to Edward, was to stay with the family in Nottingham.

Edward and I should be married almost immediately. There would be no grand double wedding now. Amaryllis would have the great day all to herself.

And so we went back to Eversleigh and at the beginning of May, in spite of further attempts by my parents to dissuade me, I became Mrs. Edward Barrington.

In those first weeks following our wedding I was very happy. I lived in a rarefied atmosphere of self sacrifice. I felt ennobled. I had honoured my obligations and I reminded myself that if I had not married Edward I should have despised myself. I had used him in the first place out of pique; well now I was ready to keep my part of the bargain.

And how easy it was! James Moore, the male nurse who looked after Edward, had turned out to be exceptionally efficient and was fast becoming a good friend of myself as well as Edward. He was there when he was needed and could be remarkably self effacing when the moment required he should be. We had been fortunate in finding him.

Moreover, Edward was not the sort of man to nurse his grievances. I was beginning to understand what a fine character he had. He had great courage and belittled that courage. He even said on one occasion that he could not help feeling relieved to have escaped the burdens which had been created by the Luddites and was only sorry his father had to shoulder them.

“Here I live … in luxury, with an angelic wife to take great care of me, with James who is the soul of patience … and all I have to do is let them fuss over me.”

I kissed him. But sometimes I saw the pain in his eyes, the frustration, the contemplation of the years ahead during which he could not hope to live normally.

I used to read to him a great deal. He enjoyed that. We played piquet and he taught me chess. The days slipped by and I lived in a state of euphoria, feeling that I had done something very noble. I often thought that that was how nuns must feel when they take their vows. In a way I had made similar vows.

I rejoiced in the moment. I lived in a world of adoration. It was quite clear that Edward looked on me as something of a saint.

The Barrington parents came from Nottingham to visit Grasslands, and Mrs. Barrington told me how she would never forget what I was doing for her beloved son, and she thanked God nightly for having brought me to them. It was very gratifying to find myself suddenly playing such a noble part.

Then came Amaryllis’ wedding day—that day which was to have been mine too.

She was married in the chapel at Eversleigh and she and Peter were going to London for the honeymoon. The continent was out of bounds because of the Napoleonic wars. Since the retreat from Moscow, Napoleon’s good fortune had dimmed a little but he was still formidable. Wellington had invaded France and now and then we heard of his successes.

Amaryllis was a beautiful bride; white suited her and in her silk and lace gown she looked like an angel. She was radiant and David and Claudine were so proud of her.

My mother said that we did not really know a great deal about Peter Lansdon, but I think she was a little jealous on my behalf and when she saw Amaryllis with her handsome bridegroom she could not help thinking of her own beloved daughter who had rashly committed herself to a marriage which was not fully one.

There were festivities at Eversleigh and Edward was brought in a wheelchair to join them. There were the usual speeches and toasts and after the bride and groom had left, Edward and I stayed on with the other guests.

The wedding had its effect on me.

After James had got Edward to bed I went in to say goodnight and sit with him for a chat before retiring to my own room.

I hoped I did not show the slight depression which had come to me. Edward had become very sensitive. It was almost as though he had developed an extra sense.

He said rather wistfully: “It was a beautiful wedding.”

“Yes. Amaryllis is a very beautiful girl.”

“She looked so happy.”

“She is,” I said.

He was silent for a while, then he said: “This was to have been our wedding day. How different it might have been.”

“It is very good now,” I said.

“Are you happy?”

“Completely,” I lied.

“Jessica, you can’t be.”

“What do you mean by doubting my word?” I cried with a touch of annoyance.

“It should have been so different.”

“It is as it is … and I am happy.”

“Jessica?”

“Yes.”

“It can’t always be so. You will miss so much. Seeing Amaryllis so happy … so contented …”

“I, too, am contented.”

“You are wonderful, Jessica.”

I smiled complacently. I had to admit I did enjoy playing the role of saintly woman who had given up so much for the man she had promised to marry when he was in the prime of life. I had always seen myself in dramatic situations in which I had shone. Now I was living in one of these youthful fantasies. But today, at Amaryllis’ wedding, I had realized how easy it had been to escape from my wild dreams when they no longer appealed. This was real life; it could not be shooed away when it began to pall.

But I could feel a certain happiness when Edward looked at me with that adoring devotion.

I kissed him.

“No more of this talk,” I said. “Shall we play a game of piquet before I say goodnight? Or are you too tired?”

“I should so much enjoy it, my dearest.”

So we played, but when I went to my room the vague depression was still with me.

I had passed out of a phase. Seeing those two going off together on their honeymoon had awakened me to my situation.

Suppose I had been going off on my honeymoon with my bridegroom, how should I be feeling? Wildly excited, expectant, gloriously in love?

I pictured it—and the bridegroom was not Edward. It was not Peter either. It was some vague shadowy figure … someone I had known years ago when I had been a young girl… a child no more … Dark, glowing, full of life, dancing round a bonfire.

How foolish to indulge in fantasies. I was the noble wife who had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of honour. That was the role I was playing. I wanted to play it. It made me feel good so that I could forget all the little peccadilloes of the past… all the selfishness, the waywardness which had dogged me before I had married Edward.

In the last few weeks for the first time in my life I had felt satisfied with myself.

And now I was having disturbing thoughts.

That night I dreamed that I was being married. I was standing at the altar at Eversleigh waiting for my bridegroom. He came out of the shadows and waves of emotion swept over me. I was in love … passionately in love.

He was beside me. I turned, but his face was in shadow. I cried out to him to come to me.

Then I awoke.

The Debt

IT WAS A WEEK SINCE Amaryllis’ wedding. I had thought about her and Peter a great deal and wondered about their honeymoon. They were staying at the family house in Albemarle Street, so I could picture them clearly.

I thought of their visiting the theatre, taking trips up the river, riding through the surrounding districts, calling at interesting inns—all the exciting excursions one could take in London.

I found myself imagining the intimate moments between them. Beautiful Amaryllis; handsome Peter Lansdon. I wondered about Amaryllis. She had always seemed uncertain and reserved; but she had been like a flower opening to the sun since her engagement to Peter Lansdon.

I felt restless and uneasy. I had a vision of myself living this life for years and years to come.

During those hours I would always take a horse and ride out. I liked to gallop along the sand and feel the wind in my hair. It gave me a sense of freedom. I was always thinking of freedom nowadays. It occurred to me that I was beginning to feel shackled. I always dismissed that thought as soon as it came. The last thing I must do was feel sorry for myself.

If anyone should feel self pity surely that must be Edward. He was an example to me. If he could accept what had happened to him, surely I could.

Another thought came to me. I had willingly accepted this life; he had had it forced upon him.