Saraband for Two Sisters

The table was not loaded with the fancy dishes we had had at home. There was plain pig with some lark pie and we drank the home-brewed ale. Grace was said before the meal and it was all undertaken with a religious solemnity. Afterward we talked about the meaning of Christmas and I could not resist describing some of the festivities we had indulged in at home. Angelet joined with me explaining how on Twelfth Night, we had elected the Lord of Misrule who had been carried on the shoulders of some of the more stalwart guests to make crosses on the beams in order to ensure good luck in the coming years.

Luke and his sister considered this pagan and insisted that Christmas had one meaning and one only.

I found a certain pleasure in teasing Luke. He knew this and did not dislike it, because he was aware that it was in a measure an indication of my affection for him. For I was fond of him. I could even share a certain passion with him, which might seem strange after my protestations about Richard. Richard was the man for me; he was my love; but so was I made that that did not prevent my dalliance with a man who appealed to me physically as my husband did. There was a certain amount of gratitude in my feelings for him; I could not forget that he had overcome all his scruples in order to possess me and to a woman of my nature that meant a good deal. I was, too, becoming interested in the child, thinking about it, longing for its birth. I knew its coming would change me in some way. Perhaps I was not the maternal type as my own mother was. Perhaps my mate would always be of more importance to me than the result of our union. That might have been so with Richard but it might not with Luke.

Life and people interested me; and of course I was more interested in myself than anyone else; and when I discovered new traits in my own nature I was tremendously intrigued.

I know that Angelet returned to Far Flamstead quite bewildered, asking herself what I had done.

January came. I was becoming increasingly aware of the life growing within me, and this did much to assuage the pain I felt because I had lost the man I should love best for as long as I lived.

He returned in January. I imagined his riding home thinking of me, wondering how we would contrive to be together. He had shocked me a little when he had admitted knowing of my deception from the first True, I had often felt he must, but he had made no sign of it when we met afterward and that showed a certain secretiveness in his nature; but then a man must be secretive when he has secrets to hide. And when I had gone to him again he had shown so clearly that the cold man whom Angelet knew was by no means the true one. As thus with Luke -perhaps most of all with Luke, the stern Puritan-who had married me not so much to help me but to make love to me under the protecting cloak of holy matrimony. I thought in the years to come when passion is no longer so insistent he will tell himself that he married me to save me because of the ignominious position into which I had brought myself. I would remind him then of his eagerness to possess me. I would remember these things and make it so that he should not revel in the satisfaction self-righteousness brings to a Puritan. Life was full of interest, and although I yearned for Richard and deeply mourned his loss, I could think longingly of the child who would be born in August Richard sought me out. He rode over to Longridge but did not call on us. I saw him from a window riding by and I got into my riding habit, saddled my horse, and went out to meet him.

Our horses faced each other and I saw the look of shocked bewilderment in Richard’s face.

“Bersaba!” he cried. “Married to Luke Longridge! How could you do that? Oh, my God, I understand. Angelet told me you are to have a child.”

“It is true, Richard. I saw this as a way out and I took it.”

“Because of our child?”

“Yes, because of our child.”

“There could have been a solution.”

“Oh, yes, you could have set me up in an establishment perhaps. You could have visited me now and then. It was not the life I had planned for myself.»

“But what of us?”

“What of us? There was no future for us. You are married to my sister. A madness overtook us ... me if you like, for I take the blame. You followed when I beckoned.

Oh, very willingly, you’ll remember. Nevertheless I was the one who led you into the downward slippery path. Then there was Luke. He had asked me to marry him. He would provide the paternity for the child so I married him.”

“He will know ...”

“He already knows. I told him the reason I would marry him.”

“Does he know that I am the father of the child?”

“He knows. He must know. He is one of the chief performers in our little piece. He must know what the play is all about.”

“And he is willing?”

“He loves me. He is a good husband. I will not let him make a little Puritan of our child. But that is for later.”