Lament for a lost lover

I put my hand to my nose protectively and Carleton was at my side. “Have no fear. I would never permit it. But it is a fact that even the most good-natured kings can now and then give sharp rejoinders.”

“I’ll swear the theatres will soon be full again,” said Uncle Toby. “You can be sure that Killigrew and Davenant are rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect,” said Carleton. “When we are absolutely sure that it is safe, you must visit a theatre again, Cousin. I wonder if the handsome Mistress Harriet Main is still about. You would be interested to see her, Uncle Toby, I don’t doubt.”

“Always like to see a handsome woman, my boy.”

“You shall, Uncle. You shall.”

By the following February the King had returned to Whitehall with the Duke of York, and the courts of justice were once more sitting in Westminster. Carleton went to London and was away some weeks and it was while he was away that Tamsy Tyler came to Eversleigh.

I knew Tamsy before, because when Barbary had come to Eversleigh, she had brought Tamsy with her as her personal maid. Tamsy had been adept at hairdressing and adding the right touch of colour to cheeks and knew exactly where to apply a patch or a black spot to enhance a particular feature. She had been a plump and rather pretty creature and I had had no doubt that she shared her mistress’s pleasure in the opposite sex.

The Tamsy who returned to us was quite different and alone. She arrived at the gates footsore, weary and almost starving. I was in the garden when she came and it was some time before I recognized her. I thought she was a beggar and I went to her in some concern because her state was pitiful. As I approached she cried out: “Mistress Arabella. Oh ... Mistress Arabella ... help me.”

Then she sank half fainting to the ground.

I didn’t believe then it could be the coquettish Tamsy, and it was only the timbre of her voice, which was rather high pitched, that gave me a clue to her identity. “Tamsy,” I cried. “What has happened? You poor girl. Come along into the house. Where is your mistress?”

She could scarcely walk. I said: “I’ll call Ellen.” I laid my hand on her arm. Its thinness shocked me.

“I thought I could not get here ...”she stammered.

Charlotte came out. “What is it, Arabella?” she asked.

I said: “It’s Tamsy.”

“Is Barbary with her?”

Tamsy shook her head. “Mistress ...” She looked from me to Charlotte. “Mistress Barbary is dead, mistress. ‘Twas some months ago. Right at the end of it all too. I nursed her through it and took ill myself.”

“Tamsy!” I cried in horror, my thoughts immediately going to Edwin. “I am well enough, mistress. I was one of those who came through. Once you’ve had it you’re free of it, they say, forever. I’ve been free these two months or more. I wouldn’t come here till I was sure.”

“Let’s get here into the kitchen,” said Charlotte. “Oh, Ellen, look who this is.

She’s ill. She needs looking after.”

“Tamsy,” cried Ellen. “Well, then, where is Mistress Barbary?”

“She’s dead,” said Charlotte. “She died of the plague.”

Tamsy recovered quickly under Ellen’s care. In a day she looked less like a skeleton and could tell us what had happened without breaking into hysterical tears. She and her mistress had been in Salisbury when the Court was there, and when it left they went to Basingstoke because of a gentleman friend whom Mistress Barbary was meeting there. She did not know that he had come from London.

They had dallied there for three days and nights until he was taken sick. It was soon clear what ailed him.

Barbary had been frantic. She had been sharing a bed with the plague. “Before we could leave the gentleman was dead and we were there in his house, all the servants gone and only the two of us. Then my mistress was taken ill and there was no one there to nurse but me, and I nursed her, and there she lay on her bed shivering and sick and not being sure whether she was there or not. “She kept calling out for Carleton. It was pitiful to see her. She kept calling out about starting again and how she’d give anything to do that. How she’d accept him ... and do what he wanted and how she’d be a good wife to him and how wrong it had been to take all those lovers ... to pay him out for what he had done to her. Pardon me saying this, mistress, but ‘tis gospel truth.”

“It was good of you to stay with her, Tamsy,” I said.

“Oh, I reckoned I couldn’t have escaped. You see there was his manservant who had been my friend, and he too was stricken.”