Lament for a lost lover

“Sally Nullens makes a good posset. I believe the children have it when they’re irritable.”

“I’ll ask her.”

I went down to Sally who was in the nursery sewing Leigh’s jacket where he had torn it.

Yes, she had the very thing. She had given it to Mistress Barbary before. “Poor Mistress Barbary,” she commented, “I don’t think she is a very happy woman.”

“I should think not ... married to ...”

“Well, it takes two to make a marriage work ... or go wrong, I’ve always heard. They’re wrong, these arranged marriages. Young people should be left to themselves.”

“So theirs was arranged?”

“Yes, ten years ago. Master Carleton was pretending to be a Roundhead. Hers was one of the families who had always been on Cromwell’s side. I reckon he married her to show what a good Roundhead he was. He played the part well, considering. The marriage never worked. They went their own ways. Wild, both of them-she perhaps because she’d been brought up so strict, and he because that was his way. Now she comes here to be made “well. My possets do her a world of good, she always says. But I think the rest has a lot to do with it. I think sometimes something comes over her and she would like things to be different.” took to going to see how she was and a kind of friendship grew up between us. That she was not averse to my visits was obvious and after a while she began to talk to me.

She normally visited Eversleigh, she told me, when Carleton was away. “We don’t like to meet, of course.”

“That seems strange since he is your husband.”

“He didn’t want the marriage. He only entered into it because he had to create a good impression at that time. People were suspicious of his motives. There was a danger of his being found out. Marriage with a family like ours gave him standing ... if you know what I mean. My father was a dedicated Roundhead. Marriage into such a family was a guarantee for a man who might have aroused suspicions because he belonged to a family most of whom were in exile with the King.”

“I see ... a marriage of convenience.”

“Exactly.”

“And you didn’t love each other at all?”

She was silent. Then she said: “You know a little of him.”

“Y ... yes.”

“He is unique. I have never known anyone like him. There’s a strength about him ... a power. He’s the sort of man who, when he makes up his mind that he wants something, won’t rest until it is his.”

“Is that so unique?”

“No. But he is a man who goes out to get it with more vigour than anyone I know. I was very young when we were married. Seventeen, in fact. Young, romantic, and heartily sick of the way of life in my parents’ house. If you smiled during the week, that was sin, and if you happened to on a Sunday you were set for hellfire.”

“I saw some of it when I came here.”

“Yes, but that was pretence, wasn’t it? You could escape from it. I had scarcely known anything else. And then to be with him. For three weeks he treated me like a wife. I believed he meant it. It was a new way of life-exciting, intriguing. It was all pretence on his part, of course. But he never had difficulty in convincing a woman that he was fond of her. He’s practised so long that it’s second nature to him. Then I found he was unfaithful. As a pious Roundhead he was living dangerously, but that was what he liked. I think as much as women he likes danger. I was young and angry-“

I said: “You were in love with him.”

“It was easy to fall in love with him. He had those strong good looks. He suggested power. He had all the tricks at his fingertips. He knew exactly how to treat me. When I remonstrated with him, the truth came out. He had married me because it was necessary. He liked me well enough but I must not expect his exclusive devotion. I should do what I wished and he would do what he wished. There was no reason why we should not go our separate ways. You can imagine how hurt I was ... how angry. You’ve guessed I was in love with him. I was a romantic girl. I was ready to believe that I had made the perfect marriage. And now I was told we would go our own ways. I am impulsive. I am not a good character. I was so hurt and bewildered I went to bed that night with one of the grooms who had been watching me as much as he dared with a certain look in his eyes. Now you are shocked.”

“No. I think I understand.”

“You. With your dead husband to whom you remain faithful forever! You couldn’t begin to understand. I am no prude. I will not pretend. I like men ... as Carleton likes women. He taught me to cast aside all scruples so I did. He knew, of course. I think it pleased him. He rather encouraged me in my affairs, although he was a little shocked by the groom. He took me to London and introduced me to people of what was considered a more worthy station of life to share my bed. I have had scores of lovers since. Why am I telling you this?”

“Tell me by all means if you find some relief in doing so.”