Филиппа Карр: The Song of the Siren

I could see that the General was striving hard to control himself. Leigh looked uncomfortable.

He knew something of the General’s thoughts in these matters and it was typical of my grandfather to state his views and not consider whether he was offending anyone.

“Usurpation of a throne,” said the General in a quiet controlled voice, “often brings sorrow to those who take it.”

“It was hardly that. James was useless. His daughter Mary was next and William was in the line of succession too. I was against him as soon as we heard of his Papist views and I would have put Monmouth on the throne rather than let that Papist rule over us. James was defeated and he’s in exile. Let him stay there.”

“You are vehement, sir,” said the General.

“Are you not, sir?” said Carleton. “I tell you this. I feel strongly about these matters.”

“That much is obvious,” said the General.

Arabella changed the conversation tactfully and we talked of trivial matters such as whether we should have a bad winter, and even that recalled the time when the Thames was frozen and reminded poor Thomas of his meeting with Christabel.

I was rather glad when we went back to the Dower House. The General was silent and I fancied he had not greatly enjoyed his visit to my grandparents.

He and Leigh were alone together that evening and early the next morning the General took his leave of us and left.

My thoughts were occupied by Enderby. J wondered how I should feel if I could no longer go there. New people there would change the place. It would be a different house. Did I want to keep a monument to the lover who had deserted me? Would I be happier if I could no longer go to the house and brood?

It was strange but something had happened to me. An anger had come to me; it soothed my misery a little because it hurt my pride. Could it really be true that he had deliberately gone away, that he had found a richer heiress? That was what they had said. He had borrowed money on the prospects of marriage with me; he was mercenary; he had gone in pursuit of richer game. Someone abroad ... in Paris ... in Venice perhaps. He had always talked a great deal about Venice. He had never pretended that he possessed the honour of a gentleman; he had constantly stressed the fact that he was no saint. “I have a lot of the devil in me, Carlotta,” he had once said. And he made me search in his head to see if horns were sprouting there. “But then that’s what you like,” he said. “Because, let me tell you, Carlotta, there’s a bit of the devil in you.”

What a fool I was to dream that he would come back. It was more than a year now since he had gone. I pictured him living in some strange city-a castle on the Rhine, a palazzo in Italy, a chateau in France-with an heiress who was richer than I was.

And he would laughingly talk about me, for Beau would talk about his mistresses.

He jeered at that code of honour which gentlemen were supposed to respect.

I nursed my anger against him and found it was a kind of balm.

Yes, I thought, why should not Enderby be sold or let? What was the point of keeping a shrine to a false lover?

September had come. In a month’s time I should reach my eighteenth birthday and that would be a very important occasion in my life, for on that day I should receive my inheritance. I would have come of age.

There must be a special celebration, Priscilla declared, and of course my grandparents insisted that it should be held at Eversleigh, which was so much more suitable than the Dower House.

Eversleigh was full of visitors and I knew that Leigh and Priscilla had invited some eligible young men in the hope that I should display some interest in them.

Harriet came with her husband, Gregory, and Benjie. I was happy to see them again.

“We don’t see enough of each other,” was Harriet’s comment. She always amazed me.

She was no longer young but she still retained that marvellous beauty. It was true that she took great Pains to preserve it. Her hair was still dark (“my special concoction,” she whispered to me, when I commented on it. “I will give you the recipe so that you will be prepared when you need it”).

They were to stay for a week. “Why don’t you come to Eyot more often?” asked Benjie.

I had nothing to answer to that. I couldn’t tell Benjie that I was hoping Beau would come back.

We rode a great deal together; I found I was enjoying those rides. I loved the cool damp September air; I began to notice the countryside as I never had before; I loved the tawny leaves of the beeches and the cones which were beginning to appear on the pines. Everywhere were the spiders’ webs-a feature of autumn-and I thought they looked enchanting with the dewdrops sparkling on them. It had always been unlike me to notice nature. I began to feel as though I was awakening from a long nightmare.

Benjie was an exhilarating companion; he had always been ready to laugh, easy going, good natured, more like his father than his mother. Sir Gregory Stevens might not be the most exciting person I had ever met but he was certainly one of the kindest.

Benjie was twelve years or so older than I but that did not seem a great difference to me. I compared everything and everyone with Beau, who had been more than twenty years older. Oddly enough I felt as old as Benjie in experience of life. Beau had done that for me.

One day when we had been riding in the woods we came home past Enderby Hall.

“Dreary old place,” said Benjie. “I remember once you followed your uncle Carl and me there.”

“I remember well,” I said. “You were horrible boys. You would have none of me. You told me to go away and not pester you.”

“Put it down to our ignorant youth,” said Benjie. “I promise I’ll never say that to you again, Carlotta.”

“I must have been an impossible child.”

“No ... just certain that Carlotta was the centre of the universe and all must bend the knee to her.”

“Except Benjamin and Uncle Carl.”

“Idiots we were.”

“But it was all for the best. I followed you there, went to sleep in a cupboard and that was how we all got to know Robert Frinton, who turned out to be my father’s uncle....”

“Fell victim to your charms and left you his fortune. It’s like a story in a ballad and just the kind of thing that would happen to you.”

“I don’t think there’s much of the fairytale heroine about me, Benjie. Didn’t you say yourself that I thought I was the centre of the universe. I imagine I haven’t changed much and that means I am an extremely selfish creature.”

“You’re an adorable one, Carlotta.”

He was looking at me with a certain intensity, and under Beau’s tuition I had learned what that meant.

I said on impulse: Let’s go and look at the house.”

“Isn’t it locked up?”

“I have the key. I always carry it on my belt. Just in case I take the fancy to go in.”

He looked at me oddly. He knew about Beau-the whole family did. But I did not think they knew he had stayed at Enderby.

We tethered our horses and walked towards the front porch. Being with Benjie was arousing certain emotions in me. I didn’t understand myself. I had a sudden fancy to know what it would be like to make love with Benjie. Perhaps I was as Beau had suggested, the sort of woman to whom physical passion is a necessity. Beau had said he had never met such a ready virgin; meaning of course that I had not shrunk from him even in the first encounter. Like a flower opening to the sun, he had said. I remembered in the days before I had met Beau I liked to be with Benjie, and the knowledge that he felt something special for me had filled me with a gratified delight.

I opened the door. I had a feeling then that it might be possible to dispel the image of Beau for ever.