Lament for a lost lover

Nearly two years had passed since our return to England, and during that time my father had received lands and a title from the King for his services. He was now a baron, Lord Flamstead. This was gratifying and no more than he deserved. My mother was very happy. She had her family with her and I was not so very far. We could meet now and then and she could have her brood almost completely under her wing. Cromwell’s men had made almost a ruin of Far Flamstead and there was a great deal to do in the restoration of it. It was an exciting project to rebuild, and under my mother’s direction, work was going on apace. She often accompanied my father to Court and she was, I knew, planning to get Lucas married. I doubt she had ever been so happy.

In spite of everything she did not forget me. I knew I had always been the very special favourite of my parents. I was their first child. They had suffered for me. I was a vindication to my father that he could beget healthy children and beneath that rather austere exterior, he was a sentimental man.

If only Edwin were alive, I used to think, I could be perfectly happy. What celebrations there were when I visited Flamstead. My parents were determined to show me how much I meant to them. I took Edwin with me, and my father-in-law insisted that I travel in his carriage, a new acquisition of which he was very proud, and I set out accompanied by my father-in-law and about twenty men to guard me. I felt very moved that he showed such concern for me. He travelled all the way with us and stayed with us for two days before returning to Eversleigh. When I arrived my parents said that now I was there with their grandson, their pleasure was complete. I was to stay for two weeks.

It was wonderful to be with my family. Dick, Angie and Fenn had grown up quite a bit. They remembered Congreve, though, and I think, in spite of everything, they looked back on those days with affection and perhaps a certain nostalgia.

They chattered a great deal about the play we had performed and they often mentioned Harriet, of course. Where was Harriet? they wanted to know. She had gone away, I told them. And did she take her baby with her? No, her baby had stayed behind with Edwin. Fenn informed the company that he was an uncle, which brought in a light note. I knew my parents did not want to talk about Harriet.

But my mother brought up the subject when we were alone.

“I am glad she has gone,” she said. “I did not like her being there. She is an adventuress.

She imposed on your kindness of heart.”

“Perhaps,” I said, “but we had such fun, Mother. The children loved her. There is something lovable about her. I hope she will be happy.”

My mother shrugged her shoulders. “Gilley is notorious for his mistresses, apparently. She’ll be passed on to someone else, I daresay. Of course she is outstandingly handsome and will not lack lovers now. But when she gets older ...” I felt depressed thinking of an ageing Harriet, poor, lonely, no longer able to appeal to men.

My mother touched my hand lightly. “Don’t worry about her. You have done everything for her. You have even taken on the care of her son.”

“He’s an engaging little fellow.”

“Most babies are,” said my mother indulgently. “Arabella, perhaps before long you will marry again.”

I stared at her in horror.

“My dear child, it would be natural. You are young. You should have someone to care for you.”

“No one could care for me more than the Eversleighs. They are so good to me.”

“I knew they would be and I rejoice. But if you should fall in love again?”

“I couldn’t. You did not know Edwin, Mother. Nobody could be like him. If he had been less perfect ... perhaps it would have been easy. But I should compare everyone with him ...”

“Later on, perhaps?”

“Never,” I said vehemently.

I rode with my father around the estate. He delighted in showing me his new lands and what he was doing to restore the old ones. On the ruins of the old castle folly my mother was making a beautiful garden. She spent a great deal of time there.

“It is a busy life,” she told me. “I am in London with your father and when I am weary of that we can come back here. I am hoping Lucas will have a place at Court. The King highly favours your father, although he is not one of his cronies. That could not be. Charles respects him as one of his great generals, but the men who surround him are more like Carleton Eversleigh. Amusing, witty, rather lax in morals ... all that the King is himself. I believe Carleton Eversleigh is often in his company.”

“He is frequently at the Court,” I said. “He is very good at managing the estate, I hear, but I believe he is restless and likes variety.”

“Like many men, I daresay. I thank God your father was never like that. That’s the reason why he goes to Court only on business. The King is clever ... cleverer than sometimes appears, and while he can be excessively lighthearted with some, your father is very impressed with his seriousness in other matters.”