"I'll wager she never will."

"How could she come here!"

"She didn't know that you were aware of the part she had played with Edwin."

"But she knew you did."

"She wouldn't care about me. She would regard me as a fellow sinner."

"I told her I knew. It came out. I had to."

He nodded. "I would have expected you to. You could never hide your feelings. My dear, honest Arabella." He came over to me and put his arms about me.

"We will be on our guard," he said. "And now ... let us forget her."

So Harriet was once more with us and this time she was in her rightful place. She had become an Eversleigh-one of us.

Uncle Toby's pride in her was touching. His eyes followed her; he was bemused as though asking himself how such a glorious creature could possibly have married him. She had aged a little, although she concealed this with artifice and it was only occasionally that it was noticeable. Then I saw that there were light shadows under her eyes and fine lines about her mouth. But she would always be outstandingly beautiful and everyone must admit that.

It was amazing how she settled in. That Matilda was cool to her did not affect her. Nor did the fact that she had been my late husband's mistress. Her manner of shrugging these facts aside was disarming.

She was very eager to see Leigh, and when I took her to the nursery he was with Edwin. She looked from one to the other, not knowing which was her son.

Both boys regarded her with some sort of awe.

"You're a stage actress," said Leigh. I suppose he had heard the servants talking.

"You're Uncle Toby's new wife," added Edwin.

She told them they were both right, and very soon she was telling them about the stage and the plays she had acted in and they were clearly fascinated.

She had lost none of her charm. Uncle Toby was her adoring slave and that was easy to understand, but when I saw her exert it over the boys, I knew that she had lost none of her gifts and I remembered how little Fenn had adored her.

What was almost incredible was that I found myself being caught up in the old spell. My resentment was gradually weakening. Although I still thought of her and Edwin together now and then, it no longer angered me. She made a great effort to win back my friendship and she was gradually succeeding.

She had a gift of narrative and it was not long before I was hearing about her adventures.

"I knew it wouldn't last with James Gilley," she told me. "But I had to go. What else could I do? What life could I have given Leigh? I had to think of my baby. I knew that you would look after him and that with you he would have a good life. So I forced myself to part with him. It was a wrench. You don't know how I suffered ..."

I narrowed my eyes and smiled at her.

"You don't believe me. I understand. I don't deserve your trust. I can see how you feel. But Edwin was so persuasive and I was half in love with him. He wasn't good enough for you, Arabella. I used to tell myself that and it would salve my conscience. I used to say if I was not the one, there'd be someone else. Better for Arabella's sake that I should be the one."

"That's an odd way of looking at it."

"I thought at first he would marry me, Arabella. I think he would have if he'd not been so weak. But he had always done what he was told and what the family expected. Then when I realized that he was going to marry you, it had gone too far to stop."

"You were so deceitful, Harriet."

"I know. It was forced on me. You know how I have had to battle. Nothing came easily to me. I used to tell myself: Once you are married to a man who can keep you in comfort then you can repent your sins and start to be a good woman."

"So you are now embarked in that path of virtue?"

"I am. Arabella, I assure you I am. It can happen you know. Look at Carleton."

"What about Carleton?"

"What a rake he was and now he's reformed. He is a model husband now, I am sure. He glances neither to left nor to right. His eyes are firmly fixed on his Arabella."

I looked at her sharply. Was she laughing at me? Was she hinting at something?

She read my thoughts. "No, I mean it. He's turned into the devoted husband. Well, now I shall turn into the devoted wife."

"I am glad to hear it. I should hate Uncle Toby to be hurt. He's such a darling."

"I agree with both those sentiments. You must admit I have made him a happy man. I shall keep him so to the end of his days. Oh, he was so good to me. He used to come to the playhouse whenever I was playing, and when I heard who he was, naturally I pricked up my ears. I was Roxalana in The Siege of Rhodes when he first saw me. He came backstage afterwards, and you can guess how excited I was when I heard he was Toby Eversleigh. I asked him a good many questions about his family when we supped together, and over the wine of which he partook more freely than I did, I heard of you and what was happening here at Eversleigh Court."

"And decided to join us."

"Not just then. I had to wait until I was asked. It was after I was Carolina in Epsom Wells that he was so deep in love with me that he had reached the pestering stage. He was different from others. He spoke of marriage right from the first. Of course I was reluctant. What a situation! And I told him, No I could not think of it, and the more I said No the more determined he became. Then I made my little confession ..."

"When you were sure of him, of course."

"Of course, and I had to forestall Carleton whom I wouldn't have trusted to keep quiet. And he said no matter what I had done, he loved me. I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He wanted me to marry him and so on. And I thought: To go back there ... to live under the same roof as Arabella ... You may not believe it but those were some of the happiest days of my life at Congreve. I enjoyed them. I loved little Fenn and Angie and Dick. You remember the play we did? And those Lambards. Wasn't it fun? I wanted to recapture all that. Besides, I wanted the standing of a married woman. I could have gone higher. Oh, yes, I've had lovers. The King noticed me one night. He would have sent for me but the plague came and the theatres were shut. Then there was the fire and after that there was Moll Davis and now Nell Gwyn. Young girls really. When I was their age ..."

"You would have outshone them all."

"Youth! How wonderful it is! I never did like things that didn't last, and there's nothing more perishable than youth."

"You were still young enough to capture Toby."

"Toby's an old man. I was wise to choose an old man. It's one way of keeping perennially young. When he is sixty I shall be ..." She smiled at me mischievously. "Still in my thirties. Quite a girl in his eyes, you see."

Yes, she was winning me over. I was already forgiving her.

But I should always be wary.

The autumn came in wet and blustery. One day Lord Eversleigh, who had been to London, returned with a shivering fever. He was wet through to the skin and had come from the inn where he had spent the night, riding throughout the day in the heavy rain.

Matilda was most distressed to see him. She set the maids scurrying for warming pans and got him to his bed. He would be all right in a few days, she insisted, and he should have known better than to get wet through and stay wet all those hours. He knew very well it was bad for his chest.

I had rarely seen her so anxious-and not without cause. Lord Eversleigh developed a cold and in a short time his lungs were congested and there was a hushed pall of anxiety hanging over the house.

Carleton had been in London with the King, who was still interested in the Roman finds, but he hurried back to Eversleigh. He was too late to see his uncle alive.

It was a very sad, dark day when we buried him in the family vault in the Eversleigh churchyard. He had been a quiet, unassuming man for all his position, and he had been generally respected. Matilda was beside herself with grief. She told me she could not imagine life without him.

"My dear Arabella," she said, "you suffered a similar loss. My dearest Edwin, taken in the prime of his youth. I cannot imagine which is worse, to lose a young husband or one who was become part of one over so many long and happy years."

I did my best to comfort her, and we were together a great deal. I listened to her accounts of the pleasant life she had had since her marriage and how wonderful her dear husband had been at the time of Edwin's death. "I could not have lived through that but for him," she declared. "Dear Edwin, he was such another as his father." I thought, if she knew! But she must never know. "Thank God there is young Edwin. He is Lord Eversleigh now."

I had been thinking of that. We must be careful. I was not sure that it would be good for a boy of eight to know that he had such a title.

I heard Sally Nullens refer to him as "my little lord," and I discussed the matter with her.

"It's better for him to get used to the idea gradually," she said. "He'll discover it sooner or later. Servants talk, you know, and you can't stop them short of sealing up their lips. Boys will listen and there's nothing will stop them short of plugging up their ears."

Sally was wise with children, so I told Edwin what had happened. His grandfather, Lord Eversleigh, was dead and as his father, Lord Eversleigh's son, was also dead, that meant that he, young Edwin, was now Lord Eversleigh.

"What shall I have to do?" he asked.

"Nothing that you didn't do before," I said. "Though you will have to be a little more thoughtful of others, a little more kind to people."

"Why?"

"Noblesse oblige," I replied, "which means that the nobly born must act nobly and that rank carries with it special obligations."

"Well, I haven't been born different, have I? Why should I have to change now?"

"It really shouldn't be a change. You should have been kind and thoughtful before."

Leigh, who had been listening, said: "Then I will have to be the same," he supposed.

"You're not a lord," Edwin pointed out.

"I will be," was Leigh's retort. "I'll be a bigger, better lord than you. You'll see."

Yes, I thought, he was indeed Harriet's son.

We did not celebrate Christmas with any great festivities because we were in mourning. On the other hand we could not ignore it altogether because of the children. The carol singers came, and so did the mummers who did a morality play and another about Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, Little John and Maid Marian, which the boys loved. The Dollan family, who lived some ten miles away, rode over and joined us for Christmas Day. They had recently taken the Priory, the nearest big house, and they had come to offer condolences at the time of Lord Eversleigh's death.

They were delightful people-Sir Henry and Lady Dollan, their three daughters and a son, Matthew. Matthew was a lively young man interested in politics and this meant that he and Carleton got on well together. They met in London occasionally and Matthew had taken to calling quite frequently on us.

I was particularly interested in Matthew because, although he was very good company, there was in him a gentle streak. I encouraged him to come often.

So passed Christmas Day. I fancied that we had managed rather cleverly in making a celebration for the children and at the same time not failing in our memory of Lord Eversleigh.

Before we retired that night, I looked in at the nursery as I always did. The boys were fast asleep, smiles of contentment on their faces. Priscilla in her cot was sleeping too. This was my darling's first Christmas, but she had been unaware of it, naturally, at six months old. Next year, I thought, it will be different. Then she will be of an age to begin to take notice.

Sally Nullens came tiptoeing in from where she slept in the next room.

"Don't wake them, mistress," she said. "They've been up to tricks. Overmuch Christmas excitement ... too much for Master Leigh and for his lordship too."

I said good night and went to our bedroom where Carleton was waiting. He was in bed propped up with pillows.

He said: "Where have you been? Don't tell me, I know. Drooling over your daughter, I have no doubt."

"Your daughter too, sir," I said.

"You will spoil that child."

"I don't think so."

"It will be good for her when she has a few brothers."

"She has Edwin and Leigh now."

"I'll swear they take little notice of her."

"Oh, but they do. They love her."

"Perhaps this time next year we'll have a boy."

"Why are men so set on sons? Is it because they so admire themselves that they are hoping to see themselves repeated?"

"That could be a very good reason."

I was sitting at the mirror, brushing my hair. Carleton was silent watching me. I said: "It was a good Christmas Day considering the circumstances."

"You found it so."

"Didn't you?"

"No. I thought you were far too interested in Matthew Dollan."

"Of course I'm interested. He's a very attractive young man."

Carleton sprang and, picking me up, carried me over to the bed.

"I'd not tolerate any infidelities."

"Carleton, you're mad. Infidelities. With Matthew Dollan!"

"I'm warning you. And you're laughing."

"Of course, I'm laughing. I am not interested in Matthew Dollan other than as a friend."

He bent over me, his lips on mine.

"You have been warned," he said.

"Of what?" I asked.

"The dire fate which would befall you if ever you played me false."

I laughed. He really loved me, I knew. Harriet had said he was reformed since he married. I had heard it said somewhere that reformed rakes make the best husbands.

That was a pleasant thought to go to sleep on on that Christmas Day. It meant that my marriage was turning out a great deal more satisfactorily than I thought it possibly could. Our relationship was changing. We still sparred and bantered, but our lovemaking was becoming more and more satisfying.