Lament for a lost lover

“Everything!” she cried angrily. “Your parents, your brothers and sister. My friendship.

Do you value them so lightly?”

I was ashamed then.

“You have so much,” she said. “Think of others who have no family ... who are quite alone ...”

I took her hand then and pressed it. Poor Harriet, it was rarely that she betrayed her needs.

We came to Chateau Congreve. It looked different from when we left it-gloomy, dreary-not amusing as it had used to look in the days when we played our games there. Our coming was unheralded and the great excitement it aroused should have been gratifying. Lucas was there and he had told them how I had gone to England. The consternation had been great. Dick, Angie and Fenn squealed with delight when they saw us. Dick flung himself at me and the other two almost knocked me over with the exuberance of their welcome. It was impossible not to be moved.

I took them in my arms and kissed each one fervently.

And there was Lucas smiling tremulously before he too hugged me tightly.

“We’ve been so anxious ...”said Lucas.

Dick cried: “We knew you’d be all right because Harriet was with you.”

Then they were kissing her and dancing round us and suddenly T did what I had not done at the height of my grief. I burst into tears. I heard Harriet talking to Lucas, telling him the news. Tom, who had left for Brussels, would stop at Villers Tourron on the way to tell the tragic news. I felt deeply for Matilda and for poor Charlotte. What a tragedy it would be for them-almost as great as mine!

Now there was a hush over the chateau. Jeanne, Marianne and Jacques walked about on tiptoe. Madame Lambard came and wept with me and insisted that I take a brew made from gentian and thyme which she said would help me to overcome my grief. I would lie in my room without any desire to rise from my bed. I didn’t care what happened, I could only think of Edwin.

The children kept away from me. I suppose I seemed like a stranger to them. Harriet was with me often. She would sit by my bed and try all manner of ways to rouse me. I would hear her voice without listening to what she was saying. She was very patient with me.

I only wanted to talk of Edwin. I made her tell me over and over again of his last minutes. She told it with drama and feeling, as I would expect her to. “I had been going through that farce of gathering plants. Actually, I spent quite a bit of time in the arbour... Do you remember that old arbour-relic of more splendid days? I would go over some of my parts and see how much I could remember. I had hoped to find something to read, but there was nothing but sermons and I wanted none of those. I took some satisfaction in just sitting there idling, thinking how that would have upset them if they had known. I was clever, Arabella. I had made them think I had some special knowledge and I believe Ellen was a little afraid of me. She thought I might be some sort of witch, that was why she let me get away with my plant hunting.”

“Yes, yes, but tell me about Edwin.”

“That day I was there in the old arbour ... and I heard horses’ hoofs in the distance. I peeped out and there he was corning towards the house. I called to him and he stopped and dismounted. He said, ‘Hello, idling away the hours God gave you, as usual.’ He was laughing at me... And then ... suddenly there was the man with the gun. Edwin pushed me into the arbour, trying to cover me. There was an explosion and then ... It was instant, Arabella. He didn’t suffer. He was laughing at me one moment ... and dead the next...”

“I can’t bear it, Harriet. It is so cruel.”

“It’s a cruel world. You didn’t know how cruel till now.”

“And now,” I said, “the cruellest thing of all has happened to me.”

“You must remember your blessings, Arabella.”

“Blessings ... with Edwin gone.”

“I’ve told you so often. You know what I mean. Your family. They love you so much.

Rouse yourself. Think of them all. The children are wretched ... Lucas is unhappy.

We all are.”

I was silent. It was true, I knew. I was imposing my grief on them.

“I’ll try, “I promised.

“You are so young. You will grow away from it.”

“I never shall.”

“You think that now. But wait. A short time ago you did not know him.”

“You can’t judge what we had, by time.”

“Oh, yes you can. You were a child when you met him. You are not fully grown yet.”

“As you are, of course. Don’t talk down to me, Harriet.”

“That’s better. A spark of anger. I do talk down to you because you have so much to learn.”

“Before I become as knowledgeable as you, you mean?”

“Yes. Life doesn’t go on all the time being one happy dream, you know. It wouldn’t always have been so pleasing to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your marriage was so brief. To you it was idyllic. It might not have gone on like that. You might have found Edwin wasn’t quite what you thought. He might have been disappointed in you.”

“‘What do you mean?”

“Just that you are a romantic and life is not as simple as you think it.”

“Are you trying to say that Edwin did not love me?”