The Song of the Siren by Philippa Carr Read Free Book Online Page A

the place-Beau’s scent.
    It is a sign, I thought. It is a portent because I am proposing to sell the house.
    I sat down on one of the stools and leaned my head against the
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    balustrade. The indentation on the chair, the scent ... they could have meant anything.
    But the button, that was proof positive.
    When had I last seen him wearing that coat? It was in London. yes. He had not worn it here as far as I remembered. Yet here was this button. He could not have lost it while he was here. Surely it would have been found before if he had.
    I was bewildered. I was overcome by my emotions and found it difficult to understand them. I did not know whether I was wild with joy or filled with misery. I was lost in limbo, black and uncertain. I called his name again. My voice echoed through the house. That was no good. What if that stupid little Damaris was hiding somewhere, spying on me? No, that was not fair. Damaris did not spy. But she did have a habit of turning up when she wasn’t wanted.
    Beau! What does this mean? Are you there? Are you hiding? Are you teasing me?
    I went out of the gallery. I was going to look through the house. I went to our bedroom.
    I could smell the musk there.
    It was awe inspiring, and the darkness would soon fall. The ghosts would come out-if ghosts there were.
    “Oh, Beau, Beau,” I whispered, “are you here somewhere? Give me a sign. Let me understand what this means.”
    I could feel the button growing hot in my hand. I half expected it to disappear but it was still there.
    I went out of the house to my horse.
    It was dark when I reached the Dower House. Priscilla was in the hall.
    “Oh, there you are, Carlotta. I knew you were out. I was beginning to grow anxious.”
    I wanted to shout: Leave me alone. Do not watch me and worry about me. Instead I said coldly: “I can take care of myself.”
    I hesitated a moment and then went on: “I don’t think I want to sell Enderby after all.”
    There was consternation at my decision. My grandfather said it was absurd that a chit of a girl should have a say in such matters. The house was neither use nor ornament and should be sold. My grandMother, I think, agreed with my grandfather; Leigh was tolerant and
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    said it was my affair, and Priscilla, of course, started to worry about my strangeness in the matter. She knew it was something to do with Beau and she was upset because she had begun to think I was getting over that affair.
    I sent a messenger to Mistress Pilkington at Crowhill to tell her that I had changed my mind. She sent back the key with a message that she was disappointed but understood how difficult I found it to part with such a house.
    Christmas was coming and there was the usual bustle of preparation. Priscilla did all she could to arouse my interest; but I knew that I was difficult. My temper burst out at the least provocation, and Sally Nullens said I was like a bear with a sore head. Harriet sent a message to say that she, Gregory and Benjie would be joining us. We either spent Christmas at the Abbas or they came to Eversleigh. My grandmother insisted. She was very fond of Harriet; they after all had been friends almost all their lives and had met in France before the Restoration. My grandmother sometimes showed a certain asperity towards her, which seemed to amuse Harriet. Anyone who knew their history would understand it, because for a time Harriet had been Arabella’s rival and Edwin Eversleigh had been the father of Harriet’s son, Leigh, now Priscilla’s husband. We were a complicated family. It had all happened long ago and in Harriet’s eyes should be forgotten. But I could understand Arabella’s resentment towards her.
    Then Priscilla had gone to Harriet when I was about to be born. I could imagine Arabella resented that too. However, Harriet stayed at Eversleigh, and there was a very firm bond between her and my grandmother just as there was between my mother and Harriet, and myself and Harriet for that matter.