The Song of the Siren

“Of course you haven’t,” said Hessenfield, surveying me. “When it comes to fashion we’re years behind the French.”

My hair was dressed by a hairdresser selected by Hessenfield. She cooed over it as she combed and back combed it until it stood out round my head in a frizz; then she started to set it and I had to admit that when she was finished I was amazed by the effect. It was piled high on my head and brought up into a coil about which she placed a diamond circlet like a coronet.

When Hessenfield saw me he was overcome with delight.

“No one ever did justice to you before, my love,” he said.

He took me into see Clarissa, who stared at me in amazement.

“Is it really you?” she asked.

I knelt down and kissed her.

Hessenfield cried out in dismay. “You’ll wreck your skirts.”

I laughed at him and he laughed with me.

“Are you proud of her, Clarissa?” he asked.

Clarissa nodded. “But I like the other way too.”

“You like me however I am, don’t you, Clarissa?”

She nodded.

“And do I come into this magic circle?” asked Hessenfield.

“What’s circle?”

“Later we’ll talk,” said Hessenfield. “Come on, my dear, the carriage awaits us.”

So I went to St. Germain-en-Laye and to the chateau there.

I was presented to the man they called James the Third as Lady Hessenfield. James was younger than I. I think he must have been about seventeen at this time. He greeted me warmly. Although he had a regal manner, he seemed to wish to show his gratitude to those exiles who had gathered round him and particularly those who, like Hessenfield, had sacrificed a good deal to serve him.

“You have a beautiful lady, Hessenfield,” he said.

“With that I am completely in agreement, Sire.”

“She must come often to our court. We need all the grace and beauty we can get during this period of waiting.”

I said how glad I was to be here and he replied that he would have said he hoped I would stay a long time, but none of us wished to stay as the guests of the King of France a moment longer than we need.

“Let us say, Lady Hessenfield, that you and I will be good friends in Westminster and Windsor.”

I said: “I trust it may be soon, Sire.”

I was presented to his mother-poor sad Mary Beatrice of Modena. I was drawn to her more than to her son. She was by no means young and must have been about thirty when James was born. And she had suffered a great deal when as a very young girl she had come to England most reluctantly to marry James-the Duke of York-already a widower with an established mistress. I was sorry for her. She had been a beauty once but now she was so thin as though worn out with the sorrows of life. Her complexion was pale but with those fine dark eyes she must have been very beautiful in her youth.

She was as welcoming as her son and told me how glad she was to see me and I should be welcome at court whenever I wished to come.

She had heard I had brought my daughter with me and she talked of children for a while.

“Lord Hessenfield gave such support to my husband and now gives it to my son,” she said. “I am happy for him to have his beautiful wife with him, and having seen you, my dear Lady Hessenfield, I understand his pride in you. You are a very beautiful woman and a joy to our court.”

Hessenfield was delighted that I had been such a success.

“I knew you would,” he said. “Beauty like yours is a rare gift, sweet wife. It is for me alone but I am glad to let others have a glimpse of it-a glimpse, nothing more.”

“I am not your wife, you know,” I said. “But everyone here seems to think I am.”

“You are ... you are mine. We are bound together for ever.... I have told you only death shall part us. I swear it, Carlotta. I love you. You must love me too. We have our child. I would marry you tomorrow if it were possible. But here we are married.

Everyone believes it to be so ... and after all, what people believe to be is true for them. So let the strength of their belief be ours. My love... I am happier than I have ever been in my life.... You and the child ... I ask for nothing more.”

I realised that this was a strange speech for a man like Hessenfield to utter. There had been little sentimentality in his life until now. I could see that what was there had been born out of the strength of his feeling for me.

I was tremendously happy riding back in the carriage to our hotel in Paris.

Yes, Hessenfield had changed. He had become the family man. He was still the passionate and demanding lover by night, and I was amused that during the day he became absorbed by arranging his household.

The dressmaker who served the French court was often at our house. I was to be the centre of her attention. I recognized her skill and I had always been proud of my good looks so it pleased me, therefore, to discover that there were so many ways of enhancing them.

I heard that I was referred to as the Beautiful Lady Hessenfield and when I rode out people stood about to watch me.

I was vain enough to enjoy it.