Philippa Carr: Lament for a Lost Lover

It was a dark and misty afternoon. I was in my room when there was a knock on the door. It was Charlotte.

She looked strange, I thought, uneasy. But then she often did.

“Oh, Arabella,” she said, “I’m glad I found you alone. There’s something I wanted to say to you.”

“Yes.”

“Something is going on in this house. Oh, I don’t mean witchcraft, as old Sally says. But something nevertheless.”

“What?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment, then she said, “Oh, I know you think that I’m rather stupid …”

“Of course I don’t.”

“You don’t have to pretend. Most people do. Well, perhaps not stupid, but not very bright and not attractive … not like you and Harriet, for instance.”

“You’re imagining this.”

“I don’t think I am. But I’m not stupid. There are things I see which some people miss. You, for instance …”

“Why don’t you tell me what you came to say, Charlotte?”

“I’m trying to. It’s not easy. I don’t forget how you saved me once …”

“Oh, that’s long ago.”

“I’ve always remembered. Sometimes I wonder whether I should have done it. People think they will leave this world and then at the last minute they’re afraid. I just thought there wasn’t anything to live for. They had made so much fuss about Charles Condey … having that house party, talking of making the announcement … I just didn’t think I could face it.”

“I understand that.”

“Harriet is evil, Arabella. Do you know that? Oh, I’m not sure about witchcraft. But I do know she is evil. She wantonly broke up my life … now she will do the same to you. She already did it once, didn’t she? I knew how it was with her and Edwin. I knew right at the start. I daresay you’ll despise me, but I listen at doors. I pry and peep and find out things. It’s mean and underhand but it compensates me in a way. I don’t have much life of my own so I live other people’s. I know more than they do, because I listen and peep and that justifies me in a way because I’m not bright and attractive. Do you understand?”

“Of course I do. But, Charlotte …”

She waved her hand. “Listen. She married Uncle Toby, didn’t she, because she wanted to come here and she wanted his name and title because she was determined he should get it. You don’t think Benjie is Uncle Toby’s son, do you?”

“Whose?” I asked.

“Are you so innocent, Arabella?”

I felt myself flushing hotly. “Charlotte, you are talking nonsense.”

“No. She wanted a son who was a claimant. Benjie to follow on Edwin.”

“Are you suggesting that she would dare hurt Edwin? That’s nonsense.”

“Perhaps I have said too much. You would rather not hear.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Forgive me, Arabella. I wanted to repay you … for saving my life once, but if you would be happier not knowing … if you would rather wait until doom overtakes you …”

“Tell me what you know,” I said tersely.

“I know this. Edwin was her lover. He was shot when they were in the arbour. At that time she was already carrying his child. Leigh is not Charles Condey’s son.”

“I know,” I said.

“So she deceived you with Edwin. Then she ran away, leaving you to look after your husband’s bastard, and you did. Arabella, you are a good woman. It grieves me to see you treated thus. But you are blind … sometimes I think wilfully blind. You really thought Benjie was Uncle Toby’s son. That was rather naive. Poor Uncle Toby, he had to die when she was pregnant.”

“Are you suggesting she … killed him.”

“In a comfortable, natural sort of way which could hardly be brought against her. It wasn’t difficult to excite the old gentleman. She knew he had already had his heart attack. Child’s play. She knew she would do it sooner or later. So natural, they said, didn’t they, an ageing husband, a young exciting wife.”

“Oh, don’t, Charlotte.”

“I know you hate it. I wouldn’t say anymore, but you’re in danger, Arabella. Don’t you see what they want?”

“They? Who?”

“Harriet and … Carleton.”

“Carleton!”

“Surely you know. Why is he away so much? Is he in London, do you think? Edwin was away on secret business, wasn’t he? Secret business with Harriet. She has their son. Benjie. Have you noticed that Carleton is rather fond of him? She has proved she can have sons. They want to marry. They want to take Eversleigh and rule it between them.”

“Carleton already does that for Edwin. You’ve forgotten Edwin. Eversleigh is Edwin’s.”

“What do you think they plan for Edwin? A little pigeon shooting? No, perhaps that wouldn’t do. The last one was not a success.”

“Charlotte, this is madness.”

“There’s madness in this house, Arabella. The madness of greed and illicit passion and hatred and murder. Open your eyes and look. Who was the first on the scene when you were shot? He hadn’t far to come from the bushes, had he? Don’t you see? Death’s hovering over your head. Like a great black bird. Can’t you hear his wings? You first, then Edwin …”

“Oh, no … no …”

“They are together. I’ve seen them.”

I closed my eyes. I pictured Harriet moving stealthily along the corridor, a candle in her hand. I could hear Carleton’s voice: “… Rather late. I thought I wouldn’t disturb you …” I cried: “No. No!” But it could fit so easily.

“They have a meeting place. They leave notes there. In the arbour. I have seen some of them. That was how I came to find the wax dolls. It’s a sort of bravado that makes them go there. It’s like snapping their fingers at fate. Then, of course, not many people would want to go there after dark, would they? It satisfies their sense of the macabre … and at the same time it’s safe. That’s a good point. They don’t want to be discovered before they’ve completed their plans … their devious, hideous plans. Oh, Arabella, you look at me so strangely. I think you don’t believe me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you. But how could I keep silent? I tell you death is right overhead. It’s come very near to you and you’ve escaped by the luck of the moment. It frightens me, Arabella. I don’t know what to do … to save you … to save Edwin. I know what is in their black hearts. I have seen them together, I have listened to them. But you doubt me. I tell you what. Let us go to the arbour … now. They leave notes there for each other. Perhaps she is there now … with him. Who can say? She said she was going riding, but is she, I wonder?”

“As soon as Carleton comes in I shall talk to him,” I said. “I shall talk to Harriet.”

“You cannot mean that. What would they say? Charlotte is lying. Charlotte is mad, and they might even convince you. They would be shocked to think they had not been careful enough to escape detection. But I know it would only postpone your fate. You are doomed, Arabella—you and your son Edwin. No matter what I reminded them of they would stand together against me … and you would believe them because you wanted to. You won’t give yourself a chance to see the proof … even now.”

“Show me this proof,” I said.

Her eyes lit up suddenly. “Oh, Arabella, I’m so glad you’re ready to look at the truth. Let us go to the arbour now. I saw her go in there before she went off. I know where they hide their messages. If he has not already been in to take it we shall find it. Come now.”

She put her arm through mine and together we went out of the house.

The arbour looked dismal in the dim light of a November afternoon, and I felt sick with fear as we went across the grass.

“It’s a horrible place,” said Charlotte. “I always hated it. Come on … quickly, Arabella.”