Филиппа Карр - Saraband for Two Sisters

“Already ... but from whom?” My mind went over the people we knew. The Krolls, the Trents, the Lamptons. Surely one of those young men would not be considered good enough by Carlotta, who had gone to great pain to make us aware of her almost royal lineage.

“She has to consider it, have you not, Carlotta? It is not the match she would have expected had she stayed in Spain, but it will bind the families closer and I have never forgotten all through my life the days I spent there in my childhood.” ‘Who is it?” asked Bersaba almost sharply.

“It is your cousin Bastian. He has asked Carlotta’s hand in marriage.” Because I am close to Bersaba I felt the shock which ran through her. It numbed me as it numbed her.

I began to talk rapidly to save her the necessity of doing so. I said, “So soon?

How can you be sure? How can Bastian? What do Uncle Connell and Aunt Melanie say? »

“They say it is a matter for Bastian to decide. He is of age. He is his own master and there is no doubt how strongly he is involved. Is that not so, Carlotta? »

“He is determined to marry me.”

“And you to marry him?” I asked faintly.

A smile flicked across her lips. “I am not sure. He must wait for his answer. »

“We left Paling so that Carlotta could have time to think of this in peaceful surroundings,” Senara explained.

“I wanted to know what you felt about it here,” said Carlotta. ‘Would you be happy to have me in your family? I wanted the twins to tell me.” She was looking at Bersaba, who stood still, her eyes downcast, saying nothing. “Of course,” Carlotta went on, “I shall not listen to what you tell me. I shall make up my mind whether or not I shall marry Bastian.” Again that look at Bersaba. “And something seems to tell me that I shall.”

The atmosphere had grown tense with secret feelings. It affected me strongly because it came from Bersaba. I could see Grandfather Casvellyn’s wild eyes, hear his accusing voice. They’ll bring trouble here if they stay.

Was that prophecy already coming true?

I am desolate so I am taking up my pen. I had said I would only do so when there was something interesting to write about. I did not think it would be heartbreak. I am so hurt, so humiliated and, I think, above all angry. My anger is none the less fierce because I hide it from the world; it is like a fire inside me, a banked-up fire which is waiting for the moment to burst forth, and when it does I believe I should be capable of killing the one who has brought me to this state. I put down my pen then and wrung my hands together, wishing that it were her neck I had in my hands. They are very strong, my hands. I could always do things with them that Angelet could not attempt.

At this time I am only half believing it. I say to myself, “It can’t be true.” But in my heart I know it is. Grandfather was a prophet when he said she would bring disaster to us. He was thinking of me, I know, because Grandfather has a special feeling for me. There is a bond between us. I think I know what it is, for it is a need, a desire which he himself possessed and which came down through him to me. I appear outwardly quiet... quieter than Angelet, but internally I am not. If I had not been as I am this would not have happened to me. I should not have lain with Bastian in the forest and have reveled in that wild exultation which I could no more resist than he could. I used to think that if we were discovered they would blame him; they would say he had seduced me; he was older than I and I was little more than a child. But it would not be true. I was the one who had tempted himartlessly, subtly, it was true. He used to kiss me and be frightened by the kisses I gave him in return; I would caress him in such a manner as to arouse his desires. He thought it was innocence which made me do these things. He didn’t understand that virgin though I was at that time I was possessed by a raging desire to be possessed.

When I was fourteen years old I knew that I wanted Bastian to be my lover. He had singled me out as his favorite and this endeared him to me for although we were so much alike people were more comfortable in Angelet’s company. She was not prettier than I... how could she be when most people did not know which of us was which? It was something in her manner. When I pretended to be her-it was our favorite game to delude people into thinking one of us was the other-I could assume her nature, open, thoughtless, chattering without thinking very much what she was saying, lighthearted, believing the best of everyone, and being easy to deceive because of that. I just had to think of Angelet’s ways to be her. But she never really succeeded in being me because if she lived to a hundred she would never know this deep sensuality which was the strongest force in my nature and which was why Bastian and I had become lovers when I was but fifteen years old and he was twenty-two.

The first time it happened we were riding in the woods near Castle Paling where I was staying with my mother and sister. A party of us had gone out riding and Bastian and I slipped away from the others. We came to a thicket and I said the horses were tired and we should give them a rest.

Bastian said, “Nonsense.” We had not long left the castle. But I dismounted and tied my horse to a tree and he did the same. I lay down on the grass and looked at him standing above me. Then suddenly he was lying beside me and I took his hand and held it against my breast. I remember how his body shook with his heartbeats and how excited I was. And then he was beside me saying, “We must go, Bersaba. Dear little Bersaba, we must go back.”

But I had no intention of going back and I put my arms about him and told him I loved him because he loved me more than he loved Angelet. And all he could say was, “No, Bersaba, we must go. You don’t understand.”

I understood perfectly but he would not know that. He was the one who did not understand.

I knew then that there are people who are born with knowledge and I was one of them. There was one of the servants-we called her Ginny-who was the same. I had heard the servants say that she had lovers since she was eleven years old. But perhaps I was not the same, for I did not want lovers: I wanted my cousin Bastian. Afterward Bastian was frightened. When we stood up beside our horses he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

He said, “We must never do that again, Bersaba. It was wrong, and when you are old enough I’m going to marry you, and if necessary before.” I was happy then but Bastian wasn’t. I thought he would betray what had happened by his mournful looks. For some time he would take great pains not to be with me. I would look at him with hurt and yearning eyes and then one day it happened again, and again he said, “It must never happen like that until we are married.” But it did. It became a ritual and afterward he would always say that we were going to be married.

I thought of Bastian all day. My sketchbook was full of sketches of him. I could not wait until the day I would be old enough to marry him. He said, ‘We shall be married on your birthday and announce our intentions six months before.”

I used to think, “I shall be married before Angelet is.” Another of my characteristics which is almost as strong as my sensuality is the need to better Angelet. She is my sister, my twin, so like me that many cannot tell one from the other, and she is important to me. Sometimes I feel that she is part of me. I love her I suppose, for she is necessary to me. I should hate it if she went away and yet there is an insane desire within me always to better her. I must do everything better than she can or I suffer. People must prefer me or I am consumed with jealousy -and as she has this open sunny frank manner and mine is dark and devious it is often that they turn to her.