Lament for a lost lover

“No. I thought you were far too interested in Matthew Dollan.”

“Of course I’m interested. He’s a very attractive young man.”

Carleton sprang and, picking me up, carried me over to the bed.

“I’d not tolerate any infidelities.”

“Carleton, you’re mad. Infidelities. With Matthew Dollan!”

“I’m warning you. And you’re laughing.”

“Of course, I’m laughing. I am not interested in Matthew Dollan other than as a friend.”

He beat over me, his lips on mine. “You have been warned’ he said. would befall you if ever you played me nauRhed He really loved me, I knew. Harriet had said he was formed since he married. I had heard it said somewhere that reformed rakes make the best husbands. That was a pleasant thought to go to sleep on that Christmas night. It meant that my marriage was turning out a great deal more satisfactorily than I thought it possibly could. Our relationship was changing. We still sparred and bantered, but our lovemaking was becoming more and more satisfying.

I believe, I thought, I am going to be happy.

In the New Year Carleton went to Whitehall. The King had sent for him. They were still excited about the Roman remains which the excavations following on the fire had disclosed. Carleton talked of them with great enthusiasm and I was becoming as interested as he was.

He wanted me to go with him and I was torn between going and leaving the children.

“What nonsense,” said Carleton impatiently. “As if old Mullens isn’t as good as any watchdog.”

“I know. But I hate to leave Priscilla.”

“What about me? You have no objection to leaving me!”

“It’s just that I should be worrying about them all the time.”

“And you don’t worry about what might be happening to me?’

I lifted my shoulders in exasperation.

“Husbands need to be looked after if they are going to be kept in good order, ‘ ‘ he reminded me.

I was tempted to go and I should have gone if Edwin had not caught a chill the day before we were due to depart.

When I went to say good night to the children, Leigh and Priscilla were sleeping but Edwin was not in his bed. Sally came in and said: “I’ve moved his bed into my room. His coughing might disturb the others and I want to keep my eye on him.”

I was immediately concerned.

“Just a chill’ said Sally. “I’ve got a flannel on his chest and hot bricks wrapped in more flannel for his feet. I’ve also got some good cordial for him.” I went and looked at my son. His face was flushed and his forehead far too hot.

“Hello, Mama,” he said. “You’re going to London to see the King.”

I knelt by his bed. “It won’t be for long.”

“How long?” he asked.

“A week perhaps.”

“Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday Monday, “he said.

Then he started to cough.

“You shouldn’t talk,” said Sally sharply. “I told you not to.”

“It was my fault,” I said. “Now try to sleep, my darling.”

“Will you come and see me before you go?” asked Edwin. “Of course I will.” I bent and kissed him. He took my hand and clung to it. His fingers were burning.

I covered him up and when I went out Sally followed me.

“Now don’t you fret,” she said. “I’ll look after him. It’s just one of his colds.” I nodded and went back to our room. While I prepared for bed Carleton talked excitedly about London and the Roman remains. He noticed my inattention and complained of it. “I’m worried about Edwin,” I said.

“You are like an old hen with her chicks.”

“I am a mother,” I said.

“You are also a wife. Never neglect your husband for your children. That’s an old adage isn’t it, or it ought to be. Come to bed. Thank God tomorrow I shall lure you away from your domesticity.”

But in the morning Edwin was worse. Sally was anxious, I could see.

“Sally,” I said, “I’m going to stay.”

I could see her relief.

“It’s not just a cold, is it?”

“The fever still stays and he’s been talking excitedly and thinking he was riding his horse. I’ve sent one of the men for the doctor.”

I went back to Carleton. “You should be ready,” he said.

“I’m not going.”

He stared at me incredulously.

“What nonsense. Of course you are. The King expects you.”

“Edwin is very ill.”

“He has a slight chill.”

“It’s not slight. I’m staying here.”

For a few seconds we faced each other. He was angry. He didn’t believe Edwin was ill. I told myself that in his heart he had never liked Edwin. He resented him, I knew it. He had several reasons for resenting him. For a long time, before Toby had returned, he had stood between him and Eversleigh. Moreover he was my son, and he suspected that the boy reminded me of Edwin and that whatever ill I heard of him I would still harbour romantic thoughts about him. Carleton was a man who had to be first; he had to be the centre of everything, and that included my life. He wouldn’t even stand aside for his own daughter, but to do so for another man’s son infuriated him.