Lament for a Lost Lover

Lament for a Lost Lover by Philippa Carr

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Authors: Philippa Carr
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stopped.
    “What wouldn’t surprise you?”
    “If the meeting had been arranged with a purpose.”
    “A purpose? What do you mean?”
    “Don’t assume innocence, Arabella. He is an eligible young man … extremely eligible. You are not without some eligibility. Daughter of a general, who is friend and close associate of the King. You see what I mean? Here we are in exile where it is not so easy to mate suitably. Therefore, when an arrangement can be gracefully made, it is.”
    “You do talk nonsense. I shan’t marry for years. Besides …”
    “Besides what?”
    “We should both have to agree, shouldn’t we?”
    “By the look of you I would say that if the proposition were put to you, you would not be altogether unwilling.”
    “I scarcely know him …”
    “And he? I think he would be malleable. He is easygoing. I can’t see him putting up a fight against what was so eminently suitable. Oh, Arabella, don’t look so cross. Think how lucky you are to have your future so carefully planned.”
    “This is your usual romancing. I think the lies you have told since you have been in this house have been … outrageous. Perhaps I should not have been persuaded to bring you.”
    “Think of all the fun you would have missed.”
    “And take that cap off your head. It looks quite ridiculous.”
    “Wait until I wear it on the great night. I wonder what will have happened by then?”
    “That even you cannot prophesy,” I replied.
    “We shall have to wait and see,” she replied, smiling at me.
    I lay awake that night, thinking of what she had said. Could it really be true? I had to admit that it was possible. I was seventeen and because of our exile there was very little hope of my meeting someone whom I could marry. I wondered if my parents had discussed my marriage with the Eversleighs. Our mutual standing was such that neither family would be averse to a union, and I supposed it was a great concern to parents as to how they were going to get their children married.
    Had Edwin really been chosen for me? I had to admit that, although I should have preferred him to have chosen me romantically, I could not help being excited by the prospect.
    I had never in my life seen a young man so handsome, so gallant, so attractive. But then what young men had I seen? The only one I could compare him with was the actor Jabot and of course he was very different from him. I had not liked Jabot in the least and could not understand why Harriet and Fleurette could have been jealous about him. Edwin had everything to make him appeal to a romantic girl, and I was a romantic girl.
    What a glorious adventure! I was in love with Edwin and he was the man my parents have chosen for me.
    The next day more guests arrived and they were all extremely excited by the prospect of the play. Parts were assigned. Harriet was Juliet and Edwin, Romeo. I was Lady Capulet, which I said was absurd, as I should portray Harriet’s mother.
    “It will be a test of your powers as an actress,” she told me severely.
    Charles Condey was Friar Laurence.
    “It will suit him,” said Harriet with a laugh.
    I don’t think I had ever seen her so excited. She was at the centre of everything.
    Everyone was drawn into the project. The servants were eager to help. One of them was an excellent seamstress and she was working almost the whole of the day making costumes. Harriet was in her element. She sparkled; she grew more beautiful than ever, if that were possible. Everyone referred to her. I called her the Queen of Villers Tourron.
    She spent a good deal of time with Edwin—rehearsing, she told us.
    “He’s quite a good actor,” she said. “I am really making a Romeo of him.”
    She spent a little time with Charles Condey too, schooling him in his part. I was a little worried about Charlotte because she seemed to become more withdrawn than ever.
    I remonstrated with Harriet when we were alone.
    “I don’t think Charlotte is very happy about you and Charles

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