Филиппа Карр: Will You Love Me in September

"I can see, Miss Harley," said Benjie, "that you have a romantic approach to nature.”

"And I can see no harm in that," replied Anita.

Benjie laughed, I think for the first time since the accident.

stopped at inns and drank cider and ate hot bread with ripe and pies straight from the oven. Benjie talked about the T which was his sole responsibility now. I could see that he esta JoiHne something which would absorb his interest and help was secKJ»'& , . , x rim to get over his bereavement.

11 talked about him to Anita.

"He's different from Jeremy," I said. "Jeremy nurses his troubles and although he is happy about being married to Damaris, it isn't enough to make him forget that he was wounded in the 95 "The pain is always there to remind him of that," replied Anita.

"Yes, whereas Benjie's pain is in remembering and seeing the rooms where they used to live. People can get away from things like that. Whereas Jeremy can't get away from the pain in his leg. It's always there.”

I thought then that we ought to get back, because poor Jeremy would be very unhappy without Damaris. I wanted to see him, to give him the comfort my presence brought to him. I knew it did, for I often saw him look at me, remembering, I was sure, his adventure with Damaris when they had brought me out of Jeanne's cellar. Damaris could never have done that without his help, and every time Jeremy remembered that, it lifted his spirits.

"Benjie," I said, "why don't you come back to Enderby with us?”

"I would enjoy coming," he replied, "but, you see, there is the estate." I knew he meant it was no use to run away. He had to stay and face his lonely life.

We went back, and arrived at the end of September when the leaves were turning to bronze and the fruit was ripening on the trees. Anita and I went to the orchards and climbed ladders to gather it, while Smith helped us load the barrows, and the dog among sat watching us with his head in one side, bounding about now and then to show his joy because we were all together.

Priscilla came over and she and Damaris made jam and preserves. It was a normal autumn apart from the lingering sadness.

Arabella missed Harriet so much, which was strange because she al often been sharp with her in their encounters, and I had always had the impression that there was a great deal she resented about Harriet.

Even Great-grandfather Carleton seemed to regret her loss, and he had always openly disliked her. As for Priscilla, she was very sad. I learned later how Harriet had helped her when Carlotta was born.

"We all have to go in time," said Arabella. "Sooner or later ... and sooner for some of us.”

Damaris hated to hear her talk like that. She said it was nonsense and she was going to see that her grandmother lived as long as Methuselah.

Another year passed. I was now ten years old. There was a great deal of talk about the armistice, which was going to put an end to the war.

Priscilla said it was about time too. Why we should concern ourselves with who sat on the throne of Spain was past her understanding.

Great-grandfather Carleton just looked at her, shaking his head, and uttered his favorite condemnation, which was "women!”

"If they really come to peace," said Damaris, "there will be free traffic between the two countries." She looked at Jeremy. "I should like to go to Paris. I'd like to retrace our footsteps.”

"A sentimental journey," said Jeremy, smiling at her in a way I loved to see him smile. I knew that the pain wasn't troubling him when he looked like that and he was rather pleased with life temporarily and not resentful at all.

"I wonder what became of Jeanne," mused Damaris. "I hope she was all right.”

"She's the sort who can look after herself," Jeremy reminded her.

"Oh, yes. I shall never forget how she looked after Clarissa.”

"I am not likely to either," replied Jeremy.

Damaris was very happy. She was pregnant again. "This time," she said, "I shall take the utmost care.”

The doctor said she must rest a good deal and remember that her health had never been quite what it should have been ever since she had had fever years ago, and childbearing was an arduous matter even for the healthy.

Damaris was radiant. So was Jeremy. The shadows were lifting. This baby was of the greatest importance. If they could have a baby, my responsibility toward them would be lifted. Strange that I should come to think of it as a responsibility, but I did, for I knew that the journey to France to bring me home had been n£ beginning of a new relationship between them. Before that hv had been two unhappy people. I was glad to have played such art in their lives, but the deep responsibility which I felt toward Vm seemed to grow with every passing day. Now I felt I must k after Benjie too. Long ago I had left him-not that I had had any choice in the matter, but if I had, I should have gone willingly with Hessenfield; and thus I had deprived Benjie of a daughter.

Christmas was at hand. Arabella insisted that we should all go to Eversleigh Court.

Benjie must come, she said, and he promised to do so.

Damaris said we must do all we could to cheer him, for Christmas was a time when those who were lost were remembered with particular poignancy. I sensed that everyone was a little too bright, trying to pretend that this was going to be a Christmas like any other.

Anita and I went into the woods to gather holly and ivy. We hunted for mistletoe, and even Smith helped bring in the Yule log. Dear old Damon seemed to be extra excited about it. He had his dear ones safe-Jeremy, Damaris, Smith and myself-and as long as we were there he was happy.

Arabella said we must stay at the Court and not think of going home until Twelfth Night, even though we were so close, and that applied to Priscilla and Leigh.

We had decorated Enderby Hall even though we were not going to be there. I heard one of the maids say, "What'll the ghosts think, I wonder?”

"They won't like it," prophesied another.

They would not believe that there was not something malevolent lurking in Enderby.

"It's a shame to leave it," I said to Damaris. "It looks so lovely.”

"Your great-grandmother wouldn't hear of it," she said. "It'll M^Ce.to come home to, and Smith will be here to enjoy it.”

Smith and Damon with him," I said. "I shall ride over on Christmas morning to give them their presents." Dear Clarissa," said Damaris. "You're a good girl." "'°sn't really goodness, I pointed out. I would want to see and Damon. And I thought that the atmosphere at Eversleigh might be a little oppressive without Harriet and Gregory.

“You're getting too introspective," laughed Damaris. Then she ruffled my hair and went on, "Just think. Next Christmas I shall have my baby.

I find it hard to wait until April.”

"I hope it's a girl," I said. "I want a girl.”

"Jeremy wants a boy.”

"Men always want boys. They want to see themselves born again.”

"Dear Clarissa, you have been such a joy to me and Jeremy.”

"I know.”

She laughed again. "You always say what you mean, don't you?" she said.

I thought for a moment and answered, "Not always.”

So we went to Eversleigh and there were the usual Christmas celebrations. Benjie came on Christmas Eve and was delighted to see me.

On Christmas Eve we went, as we always did, to Eversleigh Church for the midnight service. That had always been to me one of the best parts of Christmas-singing the Christmas hymns and carols and then walking across the fields to the Court, where there would be hot soup and toasted bread and mulled wine and plum cake waiting for us. We would discuss the service and compare it with the previous year's and everyone would be merry and wide awake. In the past we had all discussed the parts we would play in Harriet's charade. She had always arranged them and given us our parts and presided over them. We would all remember that.