The Song of the Siren (29 page)

“Did you indeed?” said my mother.

“Yes, and cake with fruit in it and cheese... and mutton and ... and ...”

“Carlotta, you are as lovely as ever,” said Leigh. “You too, Harriet.”

“Well, what do you think of our coach?” asked Harriet. “It has caused a lot of interest on the road so spare a thought for it, please.”

“We are so happy to see you,” said my mother, “that v e have no thoughts to spare just yet for anything else. But it is a magnificent vehicle. I must say that.”

“The pride of Benjie’s life,” commented Harriet. “Next to Carlotta and, of course, Clarissa.”

“They can take the coach to the stables. There’s room there,” said Leigh. “I’ll go with them to make sure.”

“And you’ll come in,” said my mother. “You must be tired from the journey even in such a luxurious coach.”

I said: “Where is Damaris?”

My mother’s face was a little sad. “She is in her room. She did not feel well enough to get up today. I said I knew you would understand.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, “I understand. Is she often ... unwell still?”

My mother nodded and a worried expression appeared on her face.

“She is better than she was, of course. But this terrible fever did something to her. Her limbs are often stiff... and they are painful. Sometimes she cannot lift her hands to brush her hair.”

“Poor Damaris,” I said. “How is she ... in spirits?”

“In good spirits ... sometimes. At others a little quiet. You know Damaris. She tries to hide the fact that she is in pain. She is always thinking of what is best for us ... her father and me ... and always

212puts on a bright face. Your coming should cheer her. She has been excited about it. I think she longs to see Clarissa.”

“Shall I take the child up to her now?”

“Yes, go up now. Go immediately. Then she’ll know that you went to her as soon as you came. Harriet, come with me and I’ll show you your room.”

I took Clarissa by the hand.

“We are going to see your aunt Damaris,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because she’d like to see you. She’s your aunt.”

“Why is she my aunt?”

“Because she’s my sister. Now don’t say why is she my sister. She is, and that’s it.”

Clarissa hunched her shoulders with glee and we went upstairs. I clung to her hand.

I felt she was going to ease an embarrassing encounter.

I knocked at the door. Damaris said: “Who is it?”

“Carlotta,” I said.

A brief hesitation then: “Come in.”

I opened the door. Clarissa ran forward. She stood by the couch looking at Damaris.

“Oh, Damaris,” I said, “how ... are you?”

Her gaze met mine blankly. “Oh, I’m all right, Carlotta. Some days I am better than others.”

She had changed, grown up. I hardly recognized her. She was thinner-but she had been too plump before. She was pale and there was a blank expression on her face as though she were lost and couldn’t find her way. I knew at once that the old admiration-almost amounting to adoration-which I had once inspired in her was gone.

“Have you had a good journey?”

“Yes, we came in the new coach.”

“We had Dutch gingerbread,” Clarissa began.

I said: “Oh, please, Clarissa, not again. Nobody wants to hear about food.”

Damaris looked at the child’s bright face.

“I’d like to,” she said, and her face was illuminated suddenly. It was as though life had returned to it.

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Clarissa then began to recite the items of the hamper and Damaris listened as though she was relating the most exciting adventure.

“You’re my aunt,” she said suddenly.

“Yes, I know,” said Damaris.

“It’s because you’re my mother’s sister. Can I come up on your couch?”

She climbed up and lay stretched out beside Damaris. She kept laughing as though it was a great joke.

“Are you ill?” asked Clarissa.

“In a way,” said Damaris. “Some days I have to rest.”

“Why ... ?”

Somehow they had managed to exclude me. They had formed an instant friendship. I remembered how Damaris used to be with all stray cats and dogs and birds with broken wings. It seemed she was the same with children.

I was glad. Clarissa had saved me from an awkward situation. We had come through the first vital moments. I knew now that we were going to behave as though she had never come to Enderby Hall and seen me there with Matt Pilkington.

I was immensely relieved. I was sure she was hating me, but being Damaris, brought up to a strict code of behaviour whicr insisted that good manners were paramount and must never be forgotten even in the most trying moments, we should behave as though our relationship was a normal one and had not changed in the least.

Clarissa and she had struck up a very firm friendship and the child would spend hours in D^maris’s room. Damaris read to her and told her stories and sometimes they just talked.

“I am so pleased,” said my mother, “that Clarissa is fond of Damaris. It is so good for Damaris to have her here. I am sure she has changed since she came.”

I wanted to talk to my mother about Damaris. She was very much on my conscience.

“What is wrong with Damaris?” I asked.

“We’ve had several doctors... . Your father even had one of the court physicians here. It started with a fever which was brought about by her being out all night in that fearful rain, lying there on

214that sodden ground in her wet clothes. All those hours she was there.”

“Does she say ... why she went into those woods while the storm was on... ?”

My mother was silent and my heart started to hammer against my side.

I stammered: “She left Tomtit That was not like her. You

know how she always felt about horses and dogs. She always thought of them first.”

“She had not been well for some days....” My mother frowned. “I suppose this fever suddenly overcame her and she wasn’t sure where she was.... Then she went into the wood and collapsed, I suppose. Whatever it was... it happened and it has left her with this... I don’t know what.”

“Is she in pain?”

“Not so much now. But sometimes she finds it difficult to walk. She must rest. The doctors all say that. We are with her a great deal. Leigh plays chess with her and reads to her. She loves to be read to. I sit with her; we sew a little together.

She seems happiest with us ... and now Clarissa has come there is a change in her.

Your little girl is doing Damaris a great deal of good. What a darling she is. Benjie must be proud of her.”

Sometimes the secrets in my life weighed me down.

I said: “What about... the Pilkingtons?”

A look of scorn came into my mother’s eyes.

“Oh, they’ve gone ... completely.”

“It’s odd ...” I began.

“Elizabeth Pilkington found the country too dull apparently.”

“And ... the son ... ? Wasn’t he interested in Damaris?”

“Not when she became ill, apparently. He came to ask once or twice when she was very ill. Then he went away. Duty, he said. Something to do with the army. It was rather mysterious, really. We heard about estates in Dorsetshire and some career in the army. Yet he was here all that time during the summer. Then he went. And his mother left too. I understood her reasons for going. But I should have thought he ...”

“Do you think he had ... upset Damaris?”

“I think it’s likely. I think she may have had something on her

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mind that worried her and brought on this fever. Then unfortunately she had this collapse when she was out. That made it so dreadful.”

“She will recover “

My mother said: “It has been a long time. She seems to have no life in her. It seems as though she wants to be shut aw a y... by herself . ? ? with just me and Leigh.

So it is wonderful to see her so happy with Clarissa. Oh, I am so glad you came, Carlotta. It has been so long ... so dreadfully long.”

“We must not let these absences happen again,” I said.

“No. Whether Damaris would be fit to travel I don’t know. Perhaps we’ll have one of the new coaches. Leigh was talking about it. That must make travel easier.”

“I don’t think we could have brought Clarissa without the coach. She’s going to have her first pony soon. Benjie thinks she can’t begin too early.”

She took my hands in hers. “I am so glad to see you happy with Benjie. He is such a good man, Carlotta. I shall ne\ er forget that terrible time when you and ...”

“Beaumont Granville,” I said.

She shivered as though the mention of his very name had its effect on her.

“We came through it,” she said, and there was a strange note to her voice. “It is all behind us now.... All behind us.”

I was silent. I was not so sure. But I would not say so to her. She had enough to worry her with Damaris in this state.

She said brightly, “I wonder if you have changed your mind about Enderby. It just stands there year after year... that can’t be sensible, Carlotta.”

“No,” I said, “it isn’t sensible.”

I knew then that I never wanted to go into that house again. The memory of Damaris’s coming into that bedroom had suppressed all others.

“Mother,” I said, “I’ve made up my mind. I am going to sell Enderby Hall.”

Naturally we went to Eversleigh within a few days of our arrival. The grandparents were eager to see us.

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There was a big family party-the biggest for a long time. My uncle Edwin was there, the present Lord Eversleigh home from the war for a brief while. My other uncle, Carl, was also there. Besides them there was Jane and her son. Then there was my grandfather Carleton and grandmother Arabella, besides myself and Harriet with my mother, Leigh and Clarissa. Damaris was with us. It was the first time she had left the house and Harriet had said that she should go the short distance in the coach and if it was one of her bad days someone could carry her into the house.

“I will,” declared Clarissa which made everyone laugh.

Damaris was about to protest, and Clarissa said: “So you’ll have to come now, Aunt Damaris, or I’ll think you’re laughing at me like all these other people.”

That seemed to decide Damaris.

“Well, I could try,” she said.

My mother was delighted. “I have thought all along,” she said, “that if we could get rid of this listlessness ...”

“If she made an effort, you mean,” said Harriet. “Well, Clarissa has made it impossible for her to refuse on this occasion.”

So Damaris came with us and Clarissa sat beside her and told her all about the coach once more, to which Damaris listened as though enthralled.

My grandmother was delighted to see us and was really excited because Damaris had come.

“It’s a step forward,” she said.

I was pleased to be at that table again. I had always enjoyed the conversation there, which was usually dominated by my grandfather, who always stated his opinions with vigour. He cared for nobody, did my grandfather. He and I were kindred spirits in a way. He had taken more notice of me when I was a child than he ever had of any one of the others.

He insisted that I sit beside him.

“Never could resist a pretty woman,” he said. “And ods bodikins [using an oath from King Charles’s days] you’re one of the prettiest I ever clapped eyes on.”

“Hush,” I said. “Grandmother will hear.”

That amused him and put him in a good mood.

217They were talking about the war-and Maryborough’s successes.

“A good leader, that is what is wanted, and we’ve got it in Churchill,” said Edwin.

He had always been a keen supporter of the Duke of Marlborough and so had Uncle Carl.

They should know, for they had both served under him.

My grandfather started to complain about the influence Marlborough’s wife had on the Queen.

“They say Duchess Sarah rules this country. Women should keep out of these things.”

“The hope of this country,” countered my grandmother, “is that women will stay in them ... aye, and have more and more influence. That’s what we want. I can tell you there would be an end to senseless wars.”

This was an old argument which was brought up from time to time. My grandfather enjoyed pointing out what disasters women had created in the world and my grandmother would defend her sex and decry his with fierce vehemence.

My mother, I knew, agreed with my grandmother and so did I. It was a war of the sexes and there was no doubt that my grandfather enjoyed it.

I said: “What amazes me is that those men who take such pleasure in feminine society are the first to denigrate us and try to keep us in what they consider our places.”

My grandfather said: “It is because we like you so well when you behave as you are meant to behave.”

“There are times,” said my mother quietly, “when it is the lot of the woman to act in such a way as only she can.”

My grandfather was subdued for a moment and the subject was quickly changed by my grandmother.

It was not long, however, before it was back to the war.

“A senseless war,” said my grandmother. “Fighting about who shall sit on the throne of Spain.”

“A question,” retorted my grandfather, “which concerns this country.”

“It’s to be hoped,” said Uncle Carl, “that we are not going to have trouble from the Jacobites.”

218”They haven’t a chance now,” I said. “Anne is firmly on the throne.”

“We thought James was at one time,” put in Edwin. “He and we learned that this was not the case.”

“Do you think they are working overseas?” I asked and I hoped no one detected the excited note in my voice ... no one but Harriet, that was. She was aware of it and why I was interested. Harriet could be uncomfortable sometimes. She understood too much about me.

“I know they are,” cried Edwin.

“Louis encourages them,” added Carl.

“Naturally,” said my grandfather. “The more disruption he can bring to us the better for him.”

“I should have thought with the death of James...” said my mother.

“You forget, my dear,” said Leigh, “that there is a new James.”

“A boy,” snorted my grandfather.

“About your age, Damaris,” said Edwin.