Saraband for Two Sisters

I lay in bed admonishing myself. It was all this watching, all this care of me. Were all women who were expecting a child subjected to such concern? Surely not. It was a fairly commonplace occurrence.

I took up the milk and put it to my lips. Then I decided I didn’t want it. It was cold and it didn’t really make me sleep. In fact I was growing tired of it. I tried to lull myself into contentment by wondering about the child and planning the little garments I would start on tomorrow. I had always found comfort in my needle. I smiled to myself, thinking of Bersaba, who showed quite an interest in the clothes we made. In the past she had always been bored by needlework. What cobbles she used to make, and then I had to unpick her stitches and do it for her! It was wonderful to have her with me. She never forgot to bring me my hot milk, and though I was growing tired of it I couldn’t tell her not to bring it because she seemed to enjoy doing it for me and was sure it did me so much good.

Bersaba as nurse! That was amusing and touching.

I would always remember her pouring out the dose of the soothing cure and how she used to watch me while I took it. And now there was this hot milk. I let her bring it and it stood by my bed all night just in case she came in and in the morning as often as not I would throw it away.

Once a party of Cavaliers came to the house. They were hungry and weary. We Fed them and kept them for a night. They had served at one time, they said, with General Tolworthy. They could tell us very little of the war, but they did say it was not easy to know which way it was going. There were defeats in some places, victories in others, but we saw that there was no great hope in them. Bersaba asked if they had encountered the General, but they had not. He had been at Marston Moor but they could not say where he had gone after that, for the forces were so scattered. They themselves could not stay, and their corning had been but a temporary respite. “We’re a danger to you,” one of them told us. “If the enemy were to arrive here and find us they would destroy the place.”

‘They might do that if you are not here,” replied Bersaba bitterly. “Let us hope that even Roundheads would have some respect for defenseless women,” one of them answered. “They are supposed to be men of God.»

“They have little respect for anything but their own righteousness,” retorted Bersaba. They left us and the days fell into the old pattern. We sewed, we walked, we played with the children; it seemed incredible that so close to us battles were raging and men were killing one another and dying for their cause.

October came. Jesson went into London to buy food and came back with the news that the Parliamentary forces were having successes which must prove vital. It was largely due to General Fairfax and Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell was instituting a New Model Army. He was training them, paying them well, and above all exerting an iron discipline. He never let them forget that their consciences were concerned; he imbued them with the idea that they were fighting for an ideal, an escape from bondage, and that God was on their side. With such an ally they could not fail to succeed. We talked a great deal after that of Richard and wondered where he was.

“I would give a great deal to know,” I said.

“I would he could come home,” answered Bersaba fervently.

But nothing happened. The weeks began to pass. The days were long and quiet, overshadowed always by menace.

My condition was beginning to show itself slightly and I rejoiced because I was halfway through my pregnancy. When I was stitching in the Castle Room I felt almost happy because it was so easy to forget the dangers all around and I could lull myself into the belief that I was an ordinary mother expecting her first child.

But it was hardly like that when I did not know from one day to another when the soldiers would come. This was a Royalist household, known as the home of one of the King’s most loyal generals, and it would go hard with us if Cromwell’s men ever came this way.

Everyone in the household was watching me more than ever. I would often find Mrs.

Cherry looking at me with an expression of greatest concern. Grace and Meg, too.

“Are you feeling all right, my lady?”

“Yes, of course-don’t I look all right?”

“Well, my lady, shouldn’t you rest a bit?”

I must escape those watchful eyes.

There was a strangeness about them all-even Bersaba. Sometimes she seemed cautious. She would not discuss the castle, and told me sharply that I must not think about it. Sometimes she wanted to talk about Richard and at others she would abruptly change the subject.

It was rather disquieting and more and more I sought the peace of the Castle Room. The chapel began to exert a certain influence. I used to find myself wandering down to it. I liked to sit in the pew and think about all the Tolworthys who had worshiped there in happier times and I wondered if Magdalen had come there often to pray for a safe delivery.