Voices in a Haunted Room

When I awoke on the morning after my wedding day, David was sleeping. He had changed subtly as I supposed I had. He had ceased to be the quiet young man absorbed in serious matters. He was passionately in love with me, and I was very happy that he should be. We had always been the best of friends, but this new closeness was a comfort to me. I felt happy and secure. I believed that I was learning to know David as I had never known him before; and I daresay he felt the same about me. I had always been intrigued by that phrase in the Bible which I think says: “He came unto her and knew her.” I understood now what that meant. David came unto me and I knew David and he knew me, and we were miraculously united.

When David awoke and found me studying him, he returned my gaze with a kind of wonderment.

We embraced. I knew that he felt the same as I did, and that we did not need words to express our thoughts. That was part of the new relationship which was springing up between us.

My mother studied me anxiously. I must have looked radiant for her fears vanished immediately. She held me very closely and said: “I am so glad, my dearest. Now you are going to be happy.”

She looked very like her old self as she stood waving us off.

What happy days they were! London had always excited me; the bustle, the carriages with the fine ladies and gentlemen riding in them; the shops full of exciting merchandise; the link boys when it was dark; the vitality of it all. And now to be here with David, making plans as to how we should spend the day, seemed absolute bliss.

We stayed at the family house in Albemarle Street, so in a way it was like being at home; but it was the first time we had ever had the house to ourselves. I felt very grown-up and fancied the servants treated me with a very special deference because of my newly-entered-into marital state.

Then began one of the happiest weeks of my life-which is what a honeymoon should be, of course. I was determined to enjoy every moment, and during that time all my doubts had disappeared. I was sure I had made the perfect marriage.

There were so many interesting things to do. We liked to wander through the streets, to stroll through the market listening to the street traders; we went for trips along the river to Hampton and we rode into the interlying villages as far out as Kensington, coming back across the bridge over the Westbourne at Knightsbridge. As we passed Kingston House David told me of the recent scandal concerning the late Duke and his mistress Elizabeth Chudleigh, who claimed to be the Duchess. It had been a cause cetebre some years before.

He had many interesting stories to tell me, and I felt I was seeing London as I never had before. I loved our leisurely walks through the streets of the City when he would point out those historic spots which had been the scene of much of our country’s history. There was that spot in what had been Pudding Lane, where the great fire of London had broken out in a baker’s shop at one o’clock in the morning of a Monday and raged through the City until the following Thursday. David could talk vividly, and he made me see the raging furnace and the terrified people running from their houses, the craft on the river and finally the experiments with gunpowder which had demolished the houses straight ahead of the fire and so stopped its progress. We visited the new St. Paul’s, which had replaced the old one-a magnificent example of the work of Christopher Wren.

To be with David was like reliving history.

We strolled past Carlton House, and paused to admire the colonnade of single pillars-one of the houses of the Prince of Wales, and which had previously been the residence of Frederick Prince of Wales, who had died before he could reach the throne. Here was a link with Kingston House because the notorious Duchess had been maid of honour to the Princess of Wales-so she, too, had lived in this splendid Carlton House.

Dickon had many associates in London and some of them were eager to entertain members of his family while we were there; but because we were so newly married they guessed, quite rightly, that we would prefer to have a few days to ourselves-and they respected this. So for those first few days of that week we were alone, and I think they were the most enjoyable, which delighted me because they confirmed that I had been right in marrying David. The more we were together, the more at one we seemed to become.

He was, of course, moulding my tastes to fit his; but it was gratifying that I had no difficulty in accepting his guidance. I was very happy during those days. “The days of my innocence,” I called them later; that was when I would be overcome by a passionate desire to escape from what I had become and go back to them. Very few people must have wanted to turn the clock back more than I.