I ran down to the hall. There they were. Carleton, my father-in-law and Uncle Toby. There was someone else with them but I could pay no attention to him just then.

I threw myself into my father-in-law's arms. I felt the tears on my cheeks.

"My dear, dear child," he kept saying. Uncle Toby was beside me.

He embraced me as though he would never let me go.

Carleton was standing by, watching with an amused look in his eyes. Then when Uncle Toby released me he picked me up and held me against him. Our faces were level; he looked at me, holding my eyes for some seconds. Then he kissed me hard on the mouth.

I broke away.

"Where have you been?" I cried, almost hysterical between joy and relief at their return and anger for what they had made us suffer. "We have been frantic with anxiety."

Lady Eversleigh was on the stairs with Charlotte behind her.

She gave a cry of joy and ran towards her husband.

So they were back, and with them was Sir Geoffrey Gillingham, a friend of long standing who had been with them for the last few weeks.

"It seemed the best thing," said Carleton.

"We knew," added Lord Eversleigh, his arm through that of his wife, "that you would be anxious. We knew that you would fear the worst, but even that seemed better than putting you in danger. Only those who have seen something of this terrible scourge can understand its horrors."

The explanation was that the men had been dining with Sir Geoffrey when one of his servants had collapsed and it quickly became obvious that he had the plague. In a short time every servant had left the house with the exception of the wife of the stricken man, who immediately pointed out to Sir Geoffrey that he must go quickly for fear of infection.

Carleton had reminded them that the man must have been suffering for a few days and therefore they could all be infected. The reason why the plague was spreading was because people were not careful enough in isolating themselves when they came within range of it. One would have to wait several weeks to be sure that one was free from infection, and this is what he suggested they do. They could not communicate, for how did they know in what ways the disease could be carried? They would go to a hunting lodge on the edge of the Eversleigh estate. There were no servants there. It was only a small place and rarely used. If they all went there for a few weeks and they were unafflicted, then they could, with a good conscience, join their families.

"Was there no way you could have let us know?" I demanded.

"Carleton was insistent that it was the only way," said Uncle Toby. "He took charge of us."

"I can well believe that," I said.

"Carleton was right," insisted Lord Eversleigh. "It was better for you to suffer a little anxiety for a while than to have this dreadful thing brought into the house. Think of the boys."

"Children are particularly susceptible," said Carleton and that suppressed my complaints.

Sir Geoffrey Gillingham stayed on with us. He was gentle and charming and in a way reminded me of Edwin. He had lost a young wife three years before in childbed and there was something rather sad about him.

I found I could talk to him about Edwin and how happy we had been. I felt he understood.

He had a great admiration for Carleton. "He is the sort of man who would take over in an emergency. I must say that when we realized we were in close proximity with the plague and had actually eaten food which the man had touched, we really thought we were all doomed. It was Carleton who said it was not necessarily so but that we must regard ourselves as potential victims and hide ourselves away."

"He is a very forceful character, I know," I said.

"It's a pity there are not more like him."

"Perhaps," I said. "But I suppose wars are made by forceful characters."

"And sometimes prevented by them."

Sir Geoffrey was quickly very popular with the family. Lady Eversleigh said he must not think of returning to London. He had had news that both the servant and his wife had died of the plague and that, as they had died in his house, it would be unwise for him to return to it just yet. The children liked him-rather to my surprise, for they were usually fascinated by more colourful people-great romancers like Uncle Toby, for instance. Edwin particularly liked him, and Sir Geoffrey used to ride out with my son, and since he was there to look after him, I allowed Edwin to venture out beyond the field. I had a confident feeling that no harm could come to him while he was with Sir Geoffrey.

Carleton said: "You should be grateful to me. Look what a pleasant friend I have found for you."

I flushed slightly and that annoyed me, because I was finding that Carleton's remarks often discountenanced me. He knew this and revelled in it.

"Don't get too friendly, will you?" he said and moved off. It was an irritating habit of his that he would make some remark like that and before I had time to challenge it be gone.

It was he who told me that the theatres had been closed. I thought at once of Harriet and so did he. She was, of course, the reason he mentioned it.

He came close to me-he had made a habit of doing that and it angered me-and he gripped my arm tightly. "Don't worry about that woman," he said. "She will always find some way out of a difficult situation, no matter where and when."

"Like you," I replied.

"Yes, there is a similarity. I'll wager that whatever happens to anyone else, she'll come through safely."

But I was not sure of that and I worried about her.

That was an eventful time. While the plague was raging in the cities, England was at war with the Dutch and there was great rejoicing over a victory at sea off Harwich when the King's brother, the Duke of York, became the hero of the day, having blown up Admiral Opdam, all his crew and fourteen of his ships, and capturing eighteen more.

In London there was a thanksgiving service to commemorate the victory and immediately afterwards a fast was ordered because of the plague for the first Wednesday in every month. Money was raised to help young children who had lost their parents, to set up centres where the infected could be cared for and to make every effort to stop the spread of the scourge. All those who could retire to the country were advised to do so, and the holding of fairs or any such gatherings where disease could spread was prohibited.

The heat was great that summer and people saw in this a reason for the spread of the plague. In the gutters the filth stank and rotted and the rats multiplied. The city was the scene of desolation; the shops closed, the streets emptied except for the pest carts and those who were dying on the cobbles. Orders were given that fires should be lighted in the streets for three days and nights in succession in the hope of destroying the rotting rubbish and purifying the air. The deaths, which in the beginning had been one thousand a week, were reaching ten thousand. The King and the Court had moved to Salisbury, but when the plague reached that town they adjourned to Oxford.

At Eversleigh we were ever on the alert. I was terrified that some harm would come to my son. Every morning, as soon as I arose, I would hurry to the nursery to assure myself that he was in perfect health.

Sir Geoffrey stayed on. We impressed on him that it would be folly to return to London just yet. He seemed very willing to agree to this and interested himself in the estate and made himself useful in several ways. He himself had estates much closer to London and he told me that he really should be there. However, it was pleasant to linger and his affairs were in the best of hands.

"It has been so pleasant here," he went on. "I have grown so fond of the little boys. I always wanted a boy of my own and I would have liked him to be just like Edwin."

Nothing he said could have pleased me more. He had made me see too how fortunate I was. I had lost my husband, but fate had been kind in giving me my son.

What a relief it was when September came and the weather turned cold. The good news came that the number of deaths in the capital had dropped considerably. There was no doubt that the excessively hot weather had been in some respects responsible. Rain came and that was a further help and gradually parishes began to be declared free of the plague.

There was great rejoicing throughout the country and those who had left London were now eager to return.

Geoffrey went, declaring he would soon be back. We must visit him, he said. He would enjoy riding round his land and showing it to young Edwin. We missed him when he had gone, and this applied particularly to my son. We all said we must meet again soon. The kind of experience we had had was a firm foundation for friendship.

It was disconcerting to hear that ninety-seven thousand people were known to have died from the plague but, as Carleton pointed out, many deaths would not have been recorded. One hundred and thirty thousand was more like the number.

It was a sobering thought.

"There is too much filth in the streets of big cities," he said. "They are saying that the rats carry the plague and where they are this will be. We could clean up our streets and then perhaps we should not be cursed with this periodic plague."

We were all greatly relieved to have come through safely. Uncle Toby said what a delight it would be to visit London and the Court again. He was fascinated by the theatres which had improved considerably since the King had come home.

"The King loves the play," said Carleton, "and since the fashionable world will follow its king, we have improved playhouses."

"Very different from what they were when I went away," agreed Uncle Toby. "Though we had the apron stage then."

"Ah," said Carleton, "but not the proscenium arch with the window opening onto a music room and the shutters which can be open and shut, thus make a change of scene."

"A great improvement!" agreed Toby enthusiastically. "But I'll tell you what is best on the stage today, Carl, my boy."

"Don't tell me, I know," said Carleton. And they said simultaneously: "The women players."

"Think of it!" went on Uncle Toby. "We used to see a delicious creature on the stage and just as we were getting interested we'd remind ourselves that it was a boy, not the pretty lady it seemed."

"There is nothing to compare with the real thing," said Carleton. "The King is all for the playhouses. He thinks they make his capital gay. The people need to laugh, he says. Odds fish, they've been solemn enough for too long. He won't have them taxed, although some of our ministers have tried to make it difficult for them. The answer was that the players were the King's servants and part of his pleasure."

"Was it right," asked Uncle Toby, "that Sir John Coventry asked whether the King's pleasure lay with the men or the women?"

"He did, the fool," replied Carleton, "and for once His Majesty did not appreciate the joke. Nor did others, for Coventry was set on in Suffolk Street and ever after bears the mark of a slit nose for that bit of foolery."

"It seems a harsh punishment for a remark which might be considered reasonable," I put in.

"Dear Cousin, have a care," said Carleton lightly. "What a tragedy if that charming little nose of yours should suffer the same treatment."

I put my hand to my nose protectively and Carleton was at my side. "Have no fear. I would never permit it. But it is a fact that even the most good-natured kings can now and then give sharp rejoinders."

"I'll swear the theatres will soon be full again," said Uncle Toby.

"You can be sure that Killigrew and Davenant are rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect," said Carleton. "When we are absolutely sure that it is safe, you must visit a theatre again, Cousin. I wonder if the handsome Mistress Harriet Main is still about. You would be interested to see her, Uncle Toby, I don't doubt."

"Always like to see a handsome woman, my boy."

"You shall, Uncle. You shall."

By the following February the King had returned to Whitehall with the Duke of York, and the courts of justice were once more sitting in Westminster. Carleton went to London and was away some weeks and it was while he was away that Tamsy Tyler came to Eversleigh.

I knew Tamsy before, because when Barbary had come to Eversleigh, she had brought Tamsy with her as her personal maid. Tamsy had been adept at hairdressing and adding the right touch of colour to cheeks and knew exactly where to apply a patch or a black spot to enhance a particular feature. She had been a plump and rather pretty creature and I had had no doubt that she shared her mistress's pleasure in the opposite sex.

The Tamsy who returned to us was quite different and alone.

She arrived at the gates footsore, weary and almost starving. I was in the garden when she came and it was some time before I recognized her.

I thought she was a beggar and I went to her in some concern because her state was pitiful. As I approached she cried out: "Mistress Arabella. Oh ... Mistress Arabella ... help me."

Then she sank half fainting to the ground.

I didn't believe then it could be the coquettish Tamsy, and it was only the timbre of her voice, which was rather high pitched, that gave me a clue to her identity.

"Tamsy," I cried. "What has happened? You poor girl. Come along into the house. Where is your mistress?"

She could scarcely walk. I said: "I'll call Ellen." I laid my hand on her arm. Its thinness shocked me.

"I thought I could not get here ..." she stammered.

Charlotte came out. "What is it, Arabella?" she asked.

I said: "It's Tamsy."

"Is Barbary with her?"

Tamsy shook her head. "Mistress ..." She looked from me to Charlotte. "Mistress Barbary is dead, mistress. 'Twas some months ago. Right at the end of it all too. I nursed her through it and took ill myself."

"Tamsy!" I cried in horror, my thoughts immediately going to Edwin.

"I am well enough, mistress. I was one of those who came through. Once you've had it you're free of it, they say, forever. I've been free these two months or more. I wouldn't come here till I was sure."

"Let's get here into the kitchen," said Charlotte. "Oh, Ellen, look who this is. She's ill. She needs looking after."

"Tamsy," cried Ellen. "Well, then, where is Mistress Barbary?"

"She's dead," said Charlotte. "She died of the plague."

Tamsy recovered quickly under Ellen's care. In a day she looked less like a skeleton and could tell us what had happened without breaking into hysterical tears. She and her mistress had been in Salisbury when the Court was there, and when it left they went to Basingstoke because of a gentleman friend whom Mistress Barbary was meeting there. She did not know that he had come from London.

They had dallied there for three days and nights until he was taken sick. It was soon clear what ailed him.

Barbary had been frantic. She had been sharing a bed with the plague.

"Before we could leave the gentleman was dead and we were there in his house, all the servants gone and only the two of us. Then my mistress was taken ill and there was no one there to nurse but me, and I nursed her, and there she lay on her bed shivering and sick and not being sure whether she was there or not.

"She kept calling out for Carleton. It was pitiful to see her. She kept calling out about starting again and how she'd give anything to do that. How she'd accept him ... and do what he wanted and how she'd be a good wife to him and how wrong it had been to take all those lovers ... to pay him out for what he had done to her. Pardon me saying this, mistress, but 'tis gospel truth."

"It was good of you to stay with her, Tamsy," I said.

"Oh, I reckoned I couldn't have escaped. You see there was his manservant who had been my friend, and he too was stricken."

Poor Tamsy! Poor Barbary! Jasper would say it was God's punishment for their sins.

"Oh, it were terrible, terrible," cried Tamsy. "To see her horror ... her fear when the horrible sores started to come. She screamed out to God to take them away, that she'd do anything to be rid of them. ... And there they were ... horrible to behold, and they would not break open either ... great sores, they were, like carbuncles. If they break there's a chance you can live but not if they don't. ... Then one day I saw it on her breast. ... She saw it too ... the macula they call it. They say when it shows on the breast that's the end. She saw it and she thanked God for it because she wanted to die by then. And she did ... she died within an hour. And there was I ... alone ... in the house with her. The cart had come to take him. So it would come to take her. I had been out in the dead of night and painted the red cross of death on the door. Now I waited at the window for the cart to come and I wrapped her in a sheet and I dropped her through the window. And there I was alone in the house behind the red cross of death."

"My poor, poor Tamsy," I cried. "You were a brave woman."

"Brave, mistress? 'Tweren't nothing else to do. I knew then, for the faintness and the sickness was getting me and there was I alone. I dunno. Perhaps because I was alone ... I had to look after myself and funny like I said, 'If I die, how'll they know at Eversleigh? Master Carleton will never know he is a widower. So I mustn't die.' It seems funny now to live for such a reason. But I was half dazed with fever and I just had this feeling that I had to live. I saw the horrible sores taking over my body but I knew I'd never see the macula on my breast. Then they started to open ... those sores did, and the plague came out of me and I knew I'd live. And gradually, they faded away and the sickness and the fever left me. And there was I alone in the plague house ...

"I sat at the window and the pest cart came and I shouted: 'I'm here. I've had the plague and I'm well again.'

"They wouldn't come near me for two days and then they shouted to me. I had to burn everything in the house. I had to light fires everywhere. Burn all my clothes and everything on the beds. They passed food in to me and they sent me clothes and I came out.

"People came to look at me. It wasn't many who had come through the plague.

"Then I set out for Eversleigh because I knew what I must do. I had to come and tell Master Carleton that he hadn't got a wife anymore."