The Song of the Siren

There were sounds of arrival in the courtyard. We looked at each other. We we always excited by visitors. Sometimes they came from Westminster and we loved to hear the news; but mostly they went to Eversleigh, where my grandparents and Jane could entertain them more easily, having so much more room.

But this sounded like visitors for us.

We went hastily down to the hall and my mother gave a cry of joy, for there was Carlotta herself.

Whenever I saw Carlotta after an absence I was always overwhelmed by her loveliness.

She looked so beautiful in a dove-grey riding habit and a dark blue hat with a feather of a paler shade. Her eyes were sparkling blue, the colour of bluebells; there was a faint colour in her cheeks and startlingly thick black brows and lashes made such an entrancing contrast to her blue eyes. Her dark curls escaped from under the hat and she looked as young as ever. Having a child had certainly not detracted from her beauty.

“My darling child!” cried my mother.

Carlotta embraced her.

“Is Benjie with you?”

“No,” she said.

My mother looked astonished. It was unthinkable that Benjie should not travel with his young wife.

“I just wanted a few days to be with my family,” said Carlotta. “I insisted on coming alone.”

”Alone,” said my mother.

“There were of course the attendant grooms. Ah, sister Damaris.” She put her cheek against mine. “Still the same young Damaris,” she said and I immediately felt stripped of the confidence I had been acquiring over the last weeks.

“And Harriet and Gregory?” said my mother.

“All well. They send their love and greetings.”

“So you’ve come alone, Carlotta.” My mother looked worried. “What of Clarissa?”

“Clarissa is being well cared for. Have no fear of that. She is rapidly becoming a spoilt child.”

“Well, you have come and I’m delighted to see you.”

Carlotta laughed. She had a lovely laugh. Everything about her was more beautiful than I remembered. I was beginning to experience the old feeling of being plain and awkward.

“Come up to your room. Leigh will be so pleased to see you and so will they be at Eversleigh.”

“What of little Damaris? Is she pleased to see me too?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Well, I could do with a wash and I should like to change. I’ve told (r them to bring the bags up to my room. They will be taking them now.”

My mother slipped her arm through Carlotta’s.

“It is wonderful to see you, darling,” she said.

I stayed with my sister to unpack. ‘

She had some beautiful dresses. She had always understood what became her most. I remember the scenes we had had with Sally Nullens and old Emily Philpots over clothes.

Once Carlotta took off a red sash and threw it out of the window because she insisted on having a blue one. One body’s work, they said Carlotta was. “Give me a good child like little Damaris.”

I hung up her dresses for her while she stretched on the bed watching me.

“Do you know,” she said, “you’ve changed. Has anything happened?”

“N-no.”

“You don’t sound very sure whether anything has happened or not.”

“Well, nothing very much. Elizabeth Pilkington gave a lovely party a little while ago. We did charades. I was Queen Elizabeth.

Carlotta burst out laughing.

“My dear Damaris. You! Oh, how I should have loved to see you.”

“They said I did very well,” I replied somewhat nettled.

“What were you doing?”

“Raleigh and the cloak.”

“Oh, I see, and you most regally walked on it.”

“Elizabeth did my dress and my hair. She’s been an actress you know ... like Harriet.

They can do such wonderful things with ordinary people.”

“She must be a miracle worker if she could turn you into Queen Elizabeth. Who was Raleigh? I’m trying to think of someone round here. I suppose they were all from these parts.”

“Oh, yes. It was Elizabeth’s son-Matt.”

“What fun!” she said languidly. “I should have come earlier.”

“Is everything all right?” I asked.

“All right? What do you mean?”

“With you ... and Benjie.”

“Of course it’s all right. He’s my husband. I’m his wife.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean... .”

“Benjie is an indulgent husband ... which is what all husbands should be.”

“I’m sure he’s very happy, Carlotta. Now he has you and dear little Clarissa. How can you bear to leave her?”

“I bear it with amazing fortitude,” she said, her lips curling. “You’re still the same sentimental Damaris. Not grown up yet. Things are not always what they seem, dear sister. I just wanted to get away for a while. That’s how it is at times. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

“It doesn’t sound as if you are very happy, Carlotta.”

“You’re such a babe, Damaris. What’s happiness? An hour or so ... a day if you’re lucky. Sometimes you can say to yourself, ‘I’m happy now ... now.’ And you want to cling to now and make it forever. But now becomes then in a very short time. That’s happiness. You can’t have it all the time and when you think back to when you did you’re just sad thinking of it, so that happiness has really deserted you.”

”What a strange way to talk.”

“I’d forgotten. You, dear Damaris, wouldn’t see it my way. You don’t ask for much.