Lament for a lost lover

That was our family living the strange lives of exiles in a strange land, every day waiting to hear from England that the people were tired of Puritan rule and wanted the King back; when he went, we as staunch Royalists would go with him.

My mother used to say: “A plague on these wars. I could be for the side which would let the other live in peace.” I knew from her diary that she had been married to a Roundhead as well as a Cavalier, and that Lucas must remind her sometimes of his father. But the love of her life was my father-and she was his-and I knew she would be on his side whichever that was. When they were together in our company-and that was not often, for he was a great general and must follow the King to be ready if ever it was decided to make a bid for the throne-their feeling for each other was obvious.

I said to Lucas: “When I marry I want my husband to be like our father is with our mother.”

Lucas did not answer. He did not know that we had not the same father. He couldn’t remember his own, and he was called Lucas Tolworthy, though he had been born Longridge as I suppose I had. He hated the thought of my marrying, and when he was a little boy he used to say he was going to marry me. I had bullied him, for I was of a dominating nature. Lucas used to say that the little ones were more afraid of me than of our parents.

I liked everything to be orderly and that meant done the way I wanted it, and because we were left a good deal alone-for when my father went away my mother accompanied him whenever possible-it did mean that I fancied myself as the head of the family. Being the eldest I slipped naturally into the role, for although I was less than two years older than Lucas, there was a big gap between Lucas and me and the little ones.

I could remember so well the time when we had left for France ... and before it too, for I was after all ten years old. I have vague pictures of Far Flamstead and the terror I sensed in the house when we were waiting for the soldiers to come. I can remember hiding from them and catching the fear of the grown-ups, which I only half believed was real; then I remember a new baby and my Aunt Angelet going to Heaven (as I was told) and how we went traveling interminably it seemed to Trystan Priory, which is clear in my memory even though it was seven years since I left it. My cozy grandmother, my kindly grandfather, my Uncle Fenn ... it is there forever in my memory.

I can remember second cousin Bastian riding over from Castle Paling and always trying to be alone with my mother Then suddenly it all changed. My lather came I had never seen him before He was tall and grand and could have been frightening, but he did not frighten me.

My mother has said “When you’re frightened just stand and look right in the face of what frightens you and you will very likely find there is nothing to fear after all “

So I looked this man straight in the face and what my mother said was true, for I discovered that he had a very special love for me and that my existence made him very happy.

I did not want to leave Trystan and my grandparents and they were very sad to see us go, I knew, although they tried to hide it. Then we were at sea on a little boat and that was not very pleasant But at last we arrived in France and there were people to meet us I remember being wrapped in a cloak and riding with someone on a horse through the darkness to Chateau Congreve and there I had been ever since.

Chateau Congreve! It sounds rather grand, but in fact it is scarcely worthy of the name of Chateau It is more like a large rambling farmhouse than a castle It does have pepper-pot-shaped towers at the four corners of the building and there is a flat roof and ramparts The rooms are lofty, the walls thick stone, and it is very cold in winter There are pasturelands surrounding it, worked by the Lambard family who live in a hutlike dwelling nearby and supply us with our meat, bread, butter, milk and vegetables Chateau Congreve was lent to us by a friend of my father with two women servants and one man to look after us. It was refuge for our family until, as we said, England returned to sanity We had to be grateful for it, my mother told Lucas and me, for beggars cannot be choosers, and in view of the fact that we were exiles from our country and had only been able to bring with us very few of our wordly possessions, beggars were exactly what we were.

It was not a bad place to grow up in Lucas and I became very interested in the pigs in their styes, and the goats tethered in the field and the chickens who claimed the courtyards as their territory. The Lambards - father, mother, three stalwart sons and a daughter-were kind to us. They loved the little ones and made much of them.