The Song of the Siren

Harriet was aware of the change in me. She watched me with alert blue eyes. I don’t know how old Harriet was now-she had never told us how old she was and, according to my grandmother, even when she was in her twenties she had pretended to be much younger. But she must have been in her late twenties at the time of the Restoration and that was over forty years ago. Her hair was still dark; her eyes still violet blue; she was rather plump, but her laughter was still like a young woman’s and frequently heard and she was interested in the young people about her-in particular me, for she said I was like her and she had posed as my mother for the first years of my life, which made a great bond between us.

She wanted to know what had happened. I told her that Damaris had been out in the rain and had some virulent fever because of it.

“Whatever made her do that?” she asked.

I shook my head, but Harriet was perceptive.

“It may have had something to do with Matt Pilkington. I think she had a romantic feeling for him.”

“And it went wrong when you were there?”

“It couldn’t have been right before, could it?”

“But the climax came after your arrival?”

“She was out in the storm. That was how it happened.”

“What is he like, this Matt Pilkington?”

“Very... young.”

”Suitable for Damaris?”

“Oh, Damaris is too young yet.”

“I’ll swear,” said Harriet, “that he took a fancy lo Damaris’s sister.”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Well, if he is easily diverted perhaps it is just as well.”

“Damaris is only a child really,” I insisted.

“I seem to remember when you were her age you were planning an elopement.”

“Damaris is young for her years.”

“Something has happened,” said Harriet. “I have always found that the best way to discover a secret is not to probe.”

“It’s a good rule,” I said.

She knew of course that my visit had had something to do with Damaris’s illness.

She would, as she had implied, discover the secret in due course.

And when I showed no inclination to visit the Dower House and she was aware of my determination to be a good wife to Benjie, she guessed.

It amused her somewhat. It was the sort of adventure she would have had in her youth.

She always smiled when she found some similarity between us. She said: “It was a joke of the gods because at your entry into the world which, my dear Carlotta, was not the most discreet-I pretended to be your mother.”

I knew the day would have to come when Damaris and I would meet. It was over a year since we had seen each other, but in the summer of 1704 Harriet said we must go to visit my mother and Damaris.

Gregory had bought a coach, which made travelling far more comfortable. We had not taken it so far as yet but we had made one or two journeys in it which had been very much more convenient than travelling on horseback.

It was a magnificent vehicle on four wheels with a door on either side and drawn by four horses. We could travel a little more slowly so as not to tire the horses, and although our baggage could go by saddle horses as before, we could take refreshments with us in the coach, Clarissa could travel with us and there would be myself, Harriet and Gregory in the coach. Benjie would have to stay behind to take care of the estate. Then we should have two grooms with us, one to drive the team and the other to ride behind and take his turn with the driving.

For protection we should have with us a blunderbuss and a bag full of bullets besides a sword; so we need have no fear of highwaymen. Many of them made off at the first sign that passengers could defend themselves.

Clarissa was very excited at the prospect of the trip. I was growing very fond of her. She was so full of vitality and she did remind me of Hessenfield. She was a little disobedient; one would not have expected his to be a docile child; but she had that charm which never failed to ingratiate her with those who had been ready to scold her for some misdeed, and as her nurse said, she wound us round her little finger.

She looked delightful in her red woollen cloak and her red shoes and mittens-the colour matched that in her cheeks and her golden eyes sparkled in anticipation. She was very intelligent for her age and seemed a good deal older than she actually was.

She asked endless questions about the journey, about her grandmother, her aunt Damaris and grandfather Leigh. Then there was Great Grandfather Carleton and Great Grandmother Arabella to be visited at Eversleigh Court with Aunt Jane and Carl, her boy, and Uncle Edwin and Uncle Carl, if they were home, as they might well be for they had been away for a very long time.

It was a day in July when we set out. Benjie stood in the courtyard as we settled ourselves in the coach. At our feet was a hamper containing cheese and bread, cold beef and mutton, plum cake and Dutch gingerbread as well as various kinds of liquid-wine, cherry brandy and ale.

Clarissa, seeing the hamper, declared that she was hungry already.

“You have to wait awhile,” I told her.