The Song of the Siren

He was too experienced not to understand my nature. At one time he came up behind me, caught me and held me against him; I felt his lips on my ear. He was behaving as a true lover might. It was disconcerting.

I felt ashamed to face the others, for they all knew what had happened. Hessenfield undoubtedly had a reputation for his amorous adventures. Beau’s pupil, I thought.

He had taught me something. It was that it was not so much Beau whom I wanted but a man who could satisfy me in the way Beau had.

The night came and we were alone again. As he held me tightly against him he said:

“I am glad the ship did not come today.”

“You are a fool,” I said. “Every day your danger grows.”

“It’s worth it,” he answered, “for a night with you.”

We lay together in the big four-poster bed just as I had lain in that other with Beau.

He said: “I believe you love me a little.”

I did not answer and he went on: “At least you do not hate me. Oh, Carlotta, who would have thought this would have turned out so. Since I saw you in the inn I wanted this. I wouldn’t have anything changed. ...”

Then he kissed me and I tried to ward off the desire which he knew so well how to kindle.

“You should never pretend, sweetheart,” he said. “There is nothing wrong in being a vibrant woman. Oh, God, how I wish that things were not as they are. I like to think that these traitors had not arisen, that you and I had met perhaps at some court function. And I saw you and loved you and asked for your hand in honourable marriage. Think of that, Carlotta.”

“I should have to agree, you know,” I reminded him.

“You would. There would have been no objection from your family, I promise you, and if there had been from you I should have brought you to some place like this and proved to you how necessary I was in your life. You would have accepted me then, Carlotta, would you not?”

“I suppose if you had seduced me I should have to,” I retorted.

“Sweet Carlotta. I shall pray that the ship does not come tomorrow.”

I said nothing. I was afraid to betray my feelings with words as I in other ways.

In a strange way I was in love with him. It must be remembered that we were all in a highly emotional state. Death hovered over all of us. It seemed unlikely that they would allow me to live. I knew too much. Durrell was right. Although they guarded me night and day it would not have been impossible for me to escape their vigilance and then, considering what I knew, I could be a terrible danger to them.

I thought of it. While Hessenfield lay sleeping beside me I could have risen, found the key to the door, unlocked it, got out of the house, taken one of the horses from the stable and been away. Hessenfield was taking a great risk in letting me live.

And they no less than I were close to death, and that knowledge must have its effect.

I was conscious of a great desire to go on living-a lust for life which I had not noticed before. In the last day or so I had moved away from the past. I had changed.

I was not exactly happier than I had been, but I can only say that I was more alive.

I lived from hour to hour. I did not want to look ahead to the time when I should gaze out and see the ship there. God knew what would happen to me then. Hessenfield would say good-bye to me. Would he do it with a sword? No, I could not believe he would harm me. Yet he would have imposed himself upon me however reluctant I had felt. He would have raped me and exulted in it.

And yet there had sprung up these strange emotions between us. Our natures went out to meet each other; in a way we belonged together. He was a man of power. Perhaps that was what I looked for in men. He was a natural buccaneer, an adventurer, a leader of men. He had grace, elegance and an air of gallantry; he was a man of the world; he combined fastidiousness with a kind of primitive strength. He was virile yet he was tender; he had the ability to make me feel that I was more important to him than anyone had ever been before and I thrilled to that, although I could not entirely believe it. Beau had that, I reminded myself. And to him I had just been a fortune and the means of providing amusement for an hour or so.

There was no doubt that my emotions were in turmoil; my senses were heightened. I was living again-and more than anything I wanted to go on living.

It was the third day. They were beginning to get restive.

“What has delayed them?” I heard Durrell say. “It can’t be the weather. God help us, at any moment a storm could arise ... gales ... anything. That would be understandable ... but it’s calm enough out there.”

The weather had turned warm and the sun beat through the windows. I looked longingly out at the green lawns and the shrubbery.

The house was built in a small valley and it was only from the second and third storeys that the sea was visible.

Hessenfield, seeing me gaze out with longing, came to stand beside me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and I felt the tremor run through me.

He said: “It looks inviting out there.”