Lament for a lost lover

I was in the garden gathering roses, which I loved to arrange in containers and set about the house. I liked their scent to fill my rooms. I had always had a fancy for the damask rose, perhaps because my great-great-great-grandmother had been born at the time Thomas Linacre brought it to England and had been named after it. I heard the sounds of arrival, and I immediately thought of Geoffrey, and as always when he called on us I would ask myself: I wonder if it will be today? I always hoped not, because I was unsure. I could see so many reasons for saying yes and so many for refusing. Such a good father for Edwin, I thought. And I was fond of him. He was pleasant, charming, kindly. The sort of man one could rely on always .. ? very different from ...

Why should I want to think of Carleton at such a moment? “Carleton!” He was there grinning at me and I felt that foolish flush rising to my cheeks.

“A charming picture,” he said. “The lady of the roses.” He took the basket from me and smelled the blooms. “Delicious,” he said looking at me. “Oh, thank you, Carleton.”

“You look as if you were expecting someone else. Geoffrey Gillingham has become a very frequent visitor. Do you know, I begin to regret bringing him here.”

“Why should you? We all like him very much.”

“And he likes us ... or some of us ... and some of us probably like him better than others. Give me the basket. We’ll sit by the willows. I want to talk to you.”

“I have not finished gathering the roses yet. I want more of them.”

“You have enough here.”

“Pray, let me be the best judge of that.”

“Dear Cousin Arabella, you can trust my judgement in this matter. What I have to say to you is of far greater moment than a basket of roses.”

“Say on, then.”

“Not here. I want you to sit down and give me your undivided attention.”

“As serious as that?”

He nodded and looked grave.

“Edwin, “I began.

“Yes, it concerns Edwin.”

“Carleton, is something wrong?”

“By no means. It could be right ... very right ...”

“Then pray tell me. Why do you beat about the bush?”

“It is you who are beating about bushes ... rosebushes. Come and sit down and I’ll tell you at once.”

He had alarmed me, and I allowed myself to be led to the stone seat sheltered by the weeping willow trees.

“Well? “I said.

“I want you to marry me.”

“Marry you!”

“Why not? I’m free now and so are you. It would be the best possible answer to everything.”

“Everything! I’m afraid I don’t ...”

He had seized me suddenly so that I was taken off my guard. He was kissing my face and caressing me in a way in which no one but Edwin ever had. I tried to hold him back, but his strength was greater than mine and clearly he meant to remain in charge of the situation.

I whipped up my anger.

“How dare you!”

“I would dare everything for you,” he said. “Don’t be prudish, Arabella. You know you want me as I want you. Why make a secret of something so obvious?”

“Obvious?” I cried. “To whom?”

“To me, and that’s the one it should be obvious to. I sense it every time we meet.

You’re crying out for me. You want me.”

“You have the most extraordinarily high opinion of your charms. I can assure you I want nothing so much at this moment as to be out of your sight.” He looked at me, his mouth turned down in mock dismay and his eyes alight with mischief.

“Not true, “he said.

“Absolutely true. How dare you take me away from my ...”

“Roses,” he supplied.

“From what I want to do to bring me here under false pretences.”

“What false pretences?”

“That something was wrong with Edwin.”

“Something is wrong with Edwin. He’s rapidly become a spoilt child tied to Mama’s apron strings.”

“How dare you ... !”

“Speak the truth? The boy needs a guiding hand. Mine. And he’s going to get it. He has to learn that there is something more in the world than love and kisses.”

“From what I’ve heard these things play quite a part in your life.”

“You are speaking of my reputation, which interests you. There is never smoke without fire, so they say, and it is true that I am a man of experience...”

“Not in bringing up a child.”

“But I am. But for me, your late husband would not have been the man he was. I was the one who brought him up. I was the one who made a man of him.”

“I wonder what his father would say to that.”

“He would confirm my story. He was away from home and Edwin’s mother doted on him just as you do on his namesake.”

“In any case Edwin left England when he was ten years old, I believe, and your shining influence must then have been removed from his life.”

“It is the formative years that are important ... from five until ten.”

“How is it that you are so knowledgeable on these matters?”

“It can’t have escaped you that I am knowledgeable on many matters.”

“It has not escaped me that that is your opinion of yourself.”