Saraband for Two Sisters (66 page)

I could imagine what this place had once been. I could picture lavish flower beds full of colour; the yews cut into quaint shapes, fountains and sequestered paths. The remains of these things were there, but everything proclaimed that this garden was not meant to be beautiful, only useful. There were herbs, fruit trees and vegetables. Everything for use and nothing ornamental.

“God!” whispered Edwin. “What a change. Eversleigh under the Puritans!”

My exultation was turning to apprehension. It was dangerous for Edwin to have come back to his own home, though it must be ten years ago that he had left it. He was now twenty-two, so he would have been twelve when he left. Would anyone recognize him? A boy of twelve could bear a resemblance to the young man of twenty-two whom he had become, but perhaps only those who knew who he was would look for it.

“Tom,” he said, “go to the house and ask for shelter. You know your part. We’ll stay here with the horses.”

It was not long before Tom returned with a groom, who looked at us curiously. “If you will go into the house, my master will see you,” he said.

“Ah,” said Edwin, “I did not think we should be turned away. Tom, help with the horses.”

Tom did so and we went across the path and into the hall. A serving girl was standing there waiting for us. I saw her eyes take in our appearance and come back to Harriet, who looked as beautiful as ever in her Puritan robes. It amazed me how she managed to convey a demureness which I knew was quite alien to her. She was a superb actress.

“Please to wait,” the girl said. “Master will be down.”

I studied the hall with its lofty vaulted roof and its panelled walls on which was displayed armour of all description. I supposed that was puritanical enough, as it was through force of arms that the Puritans had beaten the Royalists and driven them into exile. I could detect lightened patches where I presumed tapestry had hung. There was a long refectory table on which stood a few pewter utensils, and there were benches on either side of the table. I wondered whether they had been put there to create a lack of comfort while eating.

There was scarcely anything else in the hall, and although it was summer and promised to be a hot day, there was a chill in the air.

I shall never forget my first glimpse of Carleton Eversleigh.

He came down the stairs at one end of the hall. A fine, carved, wooden staircase of a kind which I remembered from before I had left England and which was typical of the Tudor era when this part of the house had clearly been built or reconstructed.

He was, as I remembered Edwin’s telling me, tall and he was certainly impressive, perhaps more so in the plain black garments of a Puritan than he would have been in the silk and lace fripperies of the Royalist regime. His dark hair was short and fitted his head like a cap after the only acceptable fashion, and the touch of severity which I had noticed in people’s dress since I had set foot in England was accentuated in his costume.

But he was an impressive man—his complexion pale, his eyes dark and luminous, his brows heavy, his features strong and large. What Edwin had said about his being larger than life was certainly true.

His footsteps rang out on the stone flags as he advanced towards us. I did not detect any expression of recognition for Edwin or surprise at seeing Harriet and me.

“God preserve you, friend,” he said.

Edwin replied: “God preserve you, friend.” He went on: “I am travelling to London with my wife and her sister. We stayed the night at an inn and during that time our purses were stolen by villains who left the inn before sunrise. We travelled with one servant and I propose now to send him off to my house in Chester to bring money for me. Until then, we are in a sorry plight. Passing your house, sir, we called in the hope of finding a little shelter and perhaps a bite to eat.”

“You will be fed and sheltered here, friend, until your servant rescues you.”

“When, sir, you will be recompensed for all that you have given us.”

“As the Good Book says, we must not turn away the stranger within our gates,” replied Carleton Eversleigh, and I could not help feeling how incongruously this mode of speech seemed coming from him. He had the face of an Elizabethan buccaneer rather than a godly Puritan.

He went to a bell rope and pulled it. Two maids came hurrying in from behind the screens. One was the girl we had already seen.

“We have visitors seeking shelter, Jane,” said Carleton. “Pray have rooms made ready. A man and wife … did you say, friend? And sister-in-law and manservant. Two rooms then—one for the husband and wife, and another for his sister-in-law. The servant can be accommodated with our own.”

“Yes, master,” said the girl, bobbing a curtsy.

“Doubtless you are hungry,” went on Carleton.

We were. We had not felt like eating much while we were on the boat and had had nothing since we arrived in England.

“Sit down at the table,” he went on. “We abhor fleshly indulgence here and eat simply.”

He was right about that. Rye bread was brought and cold bacon with mugs of cider.

We were about to eat when we received a stern look from our host. We had not thanked God for what we were about to receive.

The simple food, however, tasted like ambrosia and nectar to us, though I was too excited to want to eat a great deal.

Carleton sat at the table as we ate and plied us with questions about our house in Chester. Between them, he and Harriet did very well. Harriet described it in detail. She spoke of flower beds bordered with rosemary, lavender and marjoram and how she enjoyed cultivating her flowers.

She became fascinated by the idea and went on to describe the exquisite blooms she grew, and I was sure she had never pruned a tree or pulled up a weed in her lifetime.

Carleton looked at her sternly and asked in a cold voice whether she could devote her time to a more useful purpose than growing flowers which were no good for anything but to be looked at.

Harriet demurely lowered her eyes and murmured, “God made flowers beautiful,” she reminded him, “but I see, my friend, that you have immediately probed my weakness. So much do I love flowers that they have become a vanity.”

“Vanity should be suppressed,” said Carleton, folding his hands together and raising his eyes to the vaulted roof, and I wondered whether he was immune from that sin—and even on such a short acquaintance I could well believe that he was not. “A sin,” he went on, “a snare. Continually must we fight to avoid the pitfalls which gape at our feet.”

“Amen,” said Harriet, and I thought of how we should laugh about this when we were alone.

I must confess a certain curiosity to see the woman who had married this man. I knew she existed because Edwin had mentioned her, so I said I was wondering if we should be honoured by meeting the lady of the house.

“Mistress Eversleigh is away from home at this time,” he told me.

“Then we shall not have the pleasure of thanking her for her hospitality.”

“We are not put on earth to take pleasure, mistress,” said Carleton, “so it is mercy that you are prevented from indulging in it.” I fancied I saw a twist of his lips as though he might be enjoying the scene. “And your name is …?” he went on turning to Edwin.

“Edward Leeson,” replied Edwin glibly. “My wife Bella and my sister-in-law, Harriet Groper.”

Carleton bowed his head.

“When you have eaten you shall be taken to the rooms I have allotted to you. I doubt not the journey to Chester and back will take a few days. You are the guests of Eversleigh until the time your man returns.”

“God will reward you in heaven for your goodness to these poor travellers,” said Edwin piously.

“I seek no reward,” retorted Carleton. “I only seek to do my duty to God.”

I wondered whether they were carrying this a little too far, but my experience of the next few days taught me that this was a normal conversation in a Puritan home.

It would be small wonder if there was unrest throughout the country and people were looking to the new King to come back and set up a new set of customs and behaviour.

We were given rooms side by side, and what cold, dreary rooms they were! The only furniture the bed, a court cupboard and a chair. There was a chill about the place which suggested that no fires were ever lighted in these rooms even in the heart of winter. I was glad it was the height of summer.

Our bed was a large one with four posts. I was sure that once there had been elaborate hangings, but these were there no more and it looked starkly naked in some way. There was no rug on the floor … only the cold wooden boards. Harriet’s room next to ours was similar, only slightly smaller.

“When you have washed you can come to my library,” said Carleton. “I will explain the way to reach it.”

Edwin was unable to suppress a smile. He knew every inch of this place. Wasn’t it where he had spent so much of his childhood? Now he had to pretend he had never seen it before, and I was wondering how he was going to suppress that emotion which, returning from exile to a well-loved home, he must inevitably feel. It must be difficult for Carleton to act his part. He did it supremely well though.

When we were alone in our room Edwin took me in his arms and danced round the room with me. Then he drew me to the bed and sat down on it beside me.

“What do you think of my Puritan home and Puritan cousin?”

“They are both a little unreal,” I said.

“They are. Where are all the tapestries, the bed hangings, the paintings, the best of the furniture? That’s what I want to know. I can hardly believe it’s the same place.”

“Your cousin will doubtless explain.”

“And him … what of him? I confess, I was hard put to it not to burst out laughing. He plays his part uncommonly well, don’t you think?”

“Are you sure he has not
turned
Puritan?”

“Absolutely sure. Are you glad you came?”

“Edwin, I was so unhappy when you went and now …”

“You are here, in a Puritan land. You will sleep with me in a Puritan bed and we will make Puritan love …”

“How will that be?”

“You will see, my dearest.”

There was a knock on our door. It was Harriet.

“Come in,” cried Edwin.

She came looking about her, laughing.

“What an experience. Now, Arabella, would you rather be back in France?”

“I should be most wretched. It is wonderful to be here. It’s home after all … and Edwin is here …”

“And I?”

“And you, Harriet.”

“Yes, please don’t leave me out. I should hate that.”

“We would not dream of it,” Edwin assured her.

“I should be hurt if you regretted coming, Arabella. I should think I ought to have come … alone.”

She looked at Edwin and they burst out laughing.

“All this will be changed before long,” said Edwin, waving a hand. “I’ll wager in a year, perhaps less, all this drabness will be replaced by life, colour, gaiety … everything that our good King Charles will bring back to the land.”

“Fine clothes,” murmured Harriet. “Dashing gallants and … the theatre …”

“Come,” said Edwin, “we are to go to the library where my cousin is awaiting us.”

“Does he expect us to go with you?” I asked.

“I think the invitation was extended to us all. He will probably want to prime you on how you must behave. He will soon send you away if you are not wanted. He was always one to make his wishes clear. I could have died of laughing when I saw him. ‘God preserve you, friend.’ He is in complete control of the patter. I believe he is enjoying it.”

“Should you take us to the library?” I said. “Shouldn’t we wait to be conducted there? Won’t it look odd if you know your way about the house?”

“He gave me instructions … for the sake of any servants who might be listening. Come, let us go.”

He led us along a corridor to a staircase, not the one we had ascended. Our footsteps rang out on the wood because of the lack of rugs. I could see that the bare walls and bare floors were a shock to Edwin. I should have loved to see the house as it had been in the days before the King lost his throne.

We came to a door and Edwin opened it cautiously.

“Come in, friend,” said Carleton.

We entered. He was standing with his back to a fireplace. He looked larger than ever, yet different.

Edwin took a quick look round.

“All religious works, friend,” said Carleton. “You will find no sinful volumes here … nothing but godliness.”

“What a comfort to rest in such a house,” replied Edwin fervently.

“I want to tell you of the customs of the house so that you can conform to them during your stay here. I know it will be but brief, but it would distress members of the household if you did not fall in with our ways. We start the day with prayers … early morning prayers in the hall at six of the clock. Then we breakfast frugally, and there are prayers after. We all have our morning tasks and some will be found for you while you stay here, for idleness is an invitation to the Devil. There is service in the old chapel at noon, after which we dine. We do not linger at the table. We then work during the afternoon, sup at six of the clock and then there is another service in the chapel. Only the Bible and approved books on religion are read in the house.”

“A godly house indeed,” murmured Edwin.

“Pray shut the door, friend,” replied Carleton.

Edwin did so, and when we were shut in a change came over Carleton’s face.

“Who are the women?” he said in a different voice.

“Arabella is my wife, Harriet is her friend.”

“You are a fool,” snapped Carleton.

He went to the door, opened it and looked out. “One never knows when spies are about. I don’t think we are plagued by them, but I take every precaution.” He locked the door, then he went to the bookshelves and pressed himself against them; slowly the bookshelf moved inward and showed itself to be a door.

Carleton turned and looked at us. “To be used by any one of you in an emergency, but only in an emergency, and before the door is opened you must make certain you are not observed.” He lighted a candelabrum, picked it up and signed to us to follow him into the cavity, which we did.