Lament for a lost lover

The weather was hotter than usual. Even in the country it was stifling. I imagine what it must be like in plague-ridden London. So far the towns and villages around us were free. Canterbury, Dover and Sandwich, it seemed, had no cases, but the people were watchful. We had fearsome stories of what it was like in London.

If a member of a household was afflicted a red cross must be painted on the door and beneath it the words “Lord Have Mercy on Us,” so that everyone could be warned there was danger by entering that dwelling. Even when someone died, that person would have to be lowered from the windows and dropped into one of the death carts which prowled the city at night led by men, masks over their mouth, bells in their hands which mournfully tolled while they cried out: “Bring out your dead.” Pits were dug on the outskirts of the city and the bodies thrown in one on top of the other. There were too many for proper burial and it was the only way. We prayed for the terrible affliction to pass and still it went on. The servants talked of it continually. The names of Lord Eversleigh, Uncle Toby and Carleton were mentioned in hushed whispers as the dead were spoken of. Lady Eversleigh went about looking like a grey ghost, her face a tragic mask. Charlotte was resentful against life. “Are we never going to know?” she cried. I had rarely seen her so emotional and I was surprised that she cared so much about her family, for she generally gave an impression of indifference to people-even in their presence. I heard the servants discussing it. “You know you’ve got it when you’re sick and you get headaches and a fever so that you ramble on. That’s how it starts. Then you have to watch out for the next phase. It’s horrible sores like carbuncles-‘buboes’ they call them. They cover you all over.”

There were prayers in the churches. The nation was in mourning. We did not know whether we were personally bereaved or not. Lady Eversleigh grew more depressed each day, Charlotte more angry. As for myself, I could not possibly believe that anything could subdue Carleton Eversleigh. Then I thought: But if he were well, why does he not come to tell us what has been happening to the others? I began to feel that I was being foolish, that I had endowed him with some superhuman power. When I doubted his ability to overcome just everything, I too fell into the general depression.

Jasper said it was God’s answer to the lawlessness which was spreading across the land. Had the country suffered from plague when Oliver Cromwell kept it godly? It had not. But when the King returned with his licentious friends, look what happened. “The King and the Court have left London. They are safe,” I pointed out. “Why should God punish others for their sins?”

“We have become a sinful nation,” retorted Jasper. “Who can say where He will strike next?”

“Lord Eversleigh was a good man,” I cried. “Why should he ...” I stopped. Before that I had consistently refused to believe that he was dead. It was early afternoon when they came back. I was in the nursery with the children when I heard Carleton’s voice.

“Where is everybody? We’re back. Come and greet us.”

I ran down to the hall. There they were. Carleton, my father-in-law and Uncle Toby.

There was someone else with them but I could pay no attention to him just then.

I threw myself into my father-in-law’s arms. I felt the tears on my cheeks.

“My dear, dear child,” he kept saying. Uncle Toby was beside me.

He embraced me as though he would never let me go.

Carleton was standing by, watching with an amused look in his eyes. Then when Uncle Toby released me he picked me up and held me against him. Our faces were level; he looked at me, holding my eyes for some seconds. Then he kissed me hard on the mouth. I broke away.

“Where have you been?” I cried, almost hysterical between joy and relief at their return and anger for what they had made us suffer. “We have been frantic with anxiety.” Lady Eversleigh was on the stairs with Charlotte behind her.

She gave a cry of joy and ran towards her husband.

So they were back, and with them was Sir Geoffrey Gillingham, a friend of long standing who had been with them for the last few weeks. “It seemed the best thing,” said Carleton.

“We knew,” added Lord Eversleigh, his arm through that of his wife, “that you would be anxious. We knew that you would fear the worst, but even that seemed better than putting you in danger. Only those who have seen something of this terrible scourge can understand its horrors.”

The explanation was that the men had been dining with Sir Geoffrey when one of his servants had collapsed and it quickly became obvious that he had the plague. In a short time every servant had left the house with the exception of the wife of the stricken man, who immediately pointed out to Sir Geoffrey that he must go quickly for fear of infection.