The Meaning of Night

character of my enemy; but that, to me, had justified my actions.

Ten minutes later, I was standing within the Plantation, looking out across the lawn towards the Dower House.

Through the drawing-room window, the figure of Lord Tansor could be easily picked out, talking with Dr Daunt; behind him, I could see Mrs Daunt, with her step-son by her side. To gain a closer view of the proceedings, I moved stealthily through the dripping trees, taking up my station amongst a planting of shrubs close to one of the windows. The blind had been half drawn, but by crouching down I was able to see into the room.

Miss Carteret was standing by the fire, alone. Elsewhere, her guests – a dozen or so in all – had arranged themselves into quietly conversing groups. A young lady broke away from one of these and walked over to join her. She had blonde hair, of a most unusual paleness, which, with the unconsciously familiar way she took Miss Carteret’s hand in hers, confirmed to me that she must be Mademoiselle Buisson.

They said nothing, but remained, hands clasped, for some moments until they saw Phoebus Daunt approach, at which they disengaged and stood side by side to greet him. He gave a little bow, in acknowledgement of which Miss Carteret inclined her head slightly, and spoke a few words. Her face remained expressionless, and she merely dipped her head again in response to whatever he had said. Bowing once more to Miss Carteret, and then to Mademoiselle Buisson, he took his leave. A few moments later, I saw him emerge through the front door, and make his way back down the path to the Rectory.

All through this brief scene my heart had been pounding as I strained to see how Daunt would be received by Miss Carteret; but when it quickly became obvious that there was not the slightest spark of intimacy between them, I began to breathe more easily – the more so when, as Daunt had turned to go, I had seen Mademoiselle Buisson lean towards Miss Carteret and whisper something in her ear. This had produced an involuntary little smile, which she immediately sought to hide by placing her hand over her mouth. From the rather mischievous look on Mademoiselle Buisson’s face, I made a guess that the remark had been in some way uncomplimentary to Daunt, and I was most satisfied to see how Miss Carteret had responded to her friend’s comment, even at such a time.

Now that my enemy had gone, I thought that I might after all present myself to Miss Carteret, as I had been invited to do. Then I considered that I was wet, and a little dishevelled, and that my bag was at the Duport Arms; but yet I was expected, and she would think it strange if I did not come. I dithered and dawdled for several minutes until, at last, I got the better of my misgivings. I was on the point of quitting my place of concealment when the front door opened. Lord and Lady Tansor appeared, followed by Miss Carteret and her friend, and Dr and Mrs Daunt. The party proceeded down the steps and into two waiting carriages, which then moved away through the Plantation and into the Park.

Feeling tired and dejected, and with no reason now to remain, I once more made my way back through the rain to Easton.

In the tap-room of the Duport Arms, my friend the sullen waiter was throwing fresh sawdust on the floor.

‘Has Mr Green left?’ I asked.

‘Two hours since,’ he said, without looking up from his work.

‘Are there any more guests tonight?’

‘None.’

The Peterborough coach was about to arrive, and so, dispensing with another solitary dinner, I sent the man upstairs for my bags whilst I fortified myself with a gin-and-water and a cigar. In ten minutes I had boarded the coach and was just settling myself inside, thankful that I was the sole occupant, when John Brine’s face, red from exertion, appeared at the window.

‘Mr Glapthorn, sir, I am glad to have caught you. Lizzie said I should tell you.’ He paused for breath, and I heard the driver ask him whether he intended to get in.

‘One minute, driver,’ I shouted. Then, to Brine: ‘Tell me what?’

‘Miss Carteret and her friend are to leave for London next week. Lizzie said you’d wish to know.’

‘And where will Miss Carteret be staying?’

‘At the house of her aunt, Mrs Manners, in Wilton-crescent. Lizzie is to attend her.’

‘Good work, Brine. Tell Lizzie to send word of Miss Carteret’s movements to the address I gave you.’ I leaned my head towards him and lowered my voice. ‘I have reason to think that Miss Carteret may be in some danger, as a result of the attack on her father, and wish to keep a close eye on her, for her own protection.’

He gave a nod, as if to signify his complete comprehension of the matter, and I handed him a shilling so that he could refresh himself before returning to Evenwood. As the coach moved off, I drew the tattered silk curtain against the rain, and closed my eyes.

^*[‘Not all of me will die’: Horace, Odes, III.xxx. 6. Ed.]

^†[Anthropometamorphosis: Man Transform’d; or, The Artificiall Changeling (1650), a history of bodily adornments and mutilations, by the physician John Bulwer (fl. 1648–54). Ed.]

^*[This was probably the edition of Devotions published in octavo by William Pickering in 1840, which also included (as well as the reproduced frontispiece mentioned by Glyver and the famous ‘Deaths Duell’ sermon, preached before King Charles I, February 1631) Izaak Walton’s Life of Donne. Ed.]

^†A repeating pocket watch. Ed.]

^*[Hired men carrying plumes of black feathers. Ed.]

^*[From the Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary, performed in March 1695. The music was performed again at Purcell’s own funeral in November 1695. Ed.]

^†[John 11: 25–6. From the Order for the Burial of the Dead in the Book of Common Prayer. Ed.]

^*[From Donne’s last sermon, the aforementioned ‘Deaths Duell’ (see p. 372).