White Water

by Pamela Oldfield

  There was a long vibrant silence. The colour fled from Felicity’s cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something then changed her mind and stood up abruptly, spilling the knife and cloth from the basket.

  ‘I must go,’ she said and her voice trembled slightly.

  Martin handed her the knife and cloth. ‘So soon? You have only just come.’

  ‘I’ve — I’m busy today.’ She looked at Martin. ‘Will you be home tonight?’

  Occasionally, if there was reason, the lookers slept out in one of the shelters but Martin nodded. ‘Aye. About dusk,’ he told her.

  They watched her go back across the marsh, a slim figure in her blue gown and black shawl. Once she turned and waved briefly, then she was lost to their sight as she followed the track round the lower edge of the hill.

  Frank began to whistle then stopped and looked at Martin.

  ‘Is that right?’ Martin asked, low voiced.

  ‘Aye. ’Twas with my Jenny.’

  ‘Damnation!’

  ‘So it might be?’

  ‘Aye. It might.’

  ‘Don’t look so down.’ He laughed. ‘Proves you’re a man!’

  ‘Maria will kill me!’

  ‘But why? You’re a mite young but you’ve a place and a living. She’s a bonny girl. You could do a lot worse.’

  ‘A servant? No, it won’t do.’

  ‘Get rid of it then. Send her to my Jenny. She knows ways. We’d have had eight, else!’

  Martin looked at him doubtfully. ‘I don’t know — ’

  ‘Well, you don’t know for certain, any road. Don’t count your chickens, lad.’

  ‘She’s said nothing.’

  ‘No, they don’t. Not that kind of girl. You’ll have to ask her.’

  ‘Damnation!’ said Martin. ‘Out of one mess into another!’

  ‘How’s that then?’ asked the shepherd, but Martin could not bring himself to say more. Frank resumed his whistling and whittling and Martin sat beside him, stony faced, until the light no longer filtered through the heavy cloud and the marsh vanished into the darkness.

  When Martin plucked up courage to speak to Felicity about her condition she denied it flatly. He tried to ask her more delicate questions about the state of her body, but she laughed gently and said there was nothing at all to worry about. He was agreeably surprised but happy to accept her reassurances. Weeks passed and she certainly did seem in better health. Her eyes sparkled, her skin bloomed like a peach and her appetite returned with a vengeance. She went about her work with a serene expression on her face and the subject of a child was not referred to again.

  For a few days Martin had slept in his own room, but he was easily persuaded to go back to Felicity’s and their love-making continued. By the time Maria made another visit Felicity was four months pregnant and there was no hiding it from her. She had had children of her own and the signs were unmistakable.

  ‘Aye,’ said Felicity when Maria asked. ‘’Tis four months gone. I would have told you by and by.’

  Maria’s jaw dropped and she shook her head helplessly. ‘But why did you not tell us before? You must have known. Surely Martin suspected. Is he blind?’

  ‘No,’ Felicity’s manner was polite but firm. ‘He did ask and I lied to him. I knew he would want me to give up the child. To lose it or give it away. I will not do that, Maria. I made up my mind as soon as I knew. I want Martin’s child more than anything in the world and no one is going to rob me. I know Martin will not wed me — I’m not suitable to be a gentleman’s wife. But I have my dowry still intact. I can care for it, feed it. I don’t need a husband. I can go away — ’ Her voice broke suddenly at the thought of leaving Martin, but she recovered and went on. ‘Don’t ask me to regret what I’ve done, for I don’t nor ever will. I have loved Martin with all my heart and we were happy. If I never have another happy hour, I shall consider myself well blessed.’ She took a deep breath and Maria swallowed.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she began. ‘That little speech — ’

  ‘I’ve practised it. I knew you would come one day and see what has happened. I don’t expect you to understand but — I’m proud to be carrying a Kendal child.’

  There was a silence between them while Maria struggled to adapt to this new Felicity. The timid girl had gone and in her place was a strangely confident young woman.

  ‘And Martin doesn’t know?’ she asked.

  ‘No. He’s very young still and there was no need for him to know so soon. I didn’t expect him to share my joy.’

  ‘And does he love you?’

  ‘No.’

  There was no bitterness in her voice and she looked at Maria with untroubled eyes. ‘I won’t ask your forgiveness for I doubt if you can give it. You have problems of your own, I know, but — will you at least try to understand? You have had children by the man you love. I wanted that, too. My child will be a love child, that’s the difference, but I will make it up to him. Martin’s son will never lack love.’ There was a lump in Maria’s throat as the girl’s expression softened with the words and she put her arms round Felicity and hugged her.

  Felicity promised not to tell Martin about the child until Hugo had been told. Seeing Felicity every day he was less aware of the change in her and it did not occur to him that she would withhold such information. Felicity’s body had developed, but he had not noticed the gradual thickening of her waist and the extra fullness in her breasts. His early excitement in the relationship had given way to a contented acceptance of the situation. Felicity was always there, willing to satisfy his needs — eager to do so in fact. He enjoyed her adoration and triumphed inwardly because he had a woman of his own and Allan, the firstborn, presumably did not — although what he was doing in London no one knew. But Martin, not yet sixteen, had a mistress and the idea pleased him enormously.

  Maria busied herself at Romney House after writing an urgent letter to Hugo. She sent it to Heron with Matt on the pretext that he was needed there to help in the rebuilding of the buttery, which was threatening to collapse imminently. Maria visited James Moore and his wife and also called on one or two people who had been friends of Harold and Ruth and whom she dimly remembered. She felt it was important that, since Martin was to inherit Romney House, the ties between him and various neighbours should be strengthened. Young men were headstrong and careless and she doubted if Martin would take the trouble to renew old friendships or create new ones.

  She therefore invited eight people to dine at Romney House one evening but it was nearly her undoing. She made it clear that she and Martin would be host and hostess. Martin insisted that Felicity should be included, but Maria was adamant that no one should be given the idea that she was anything more than Ruth’s companion who was still given a home at Romney House. Maria argued that if he was to take a bride eventually it would not do to encourage scandalous talk. It must be established, she told him, that there was no close bond between himself and Felicity. He gave her a strange look and she thought he was going to confide in her but he said nothing. Felicity added weight to Maria’s argument by insisting that she would feel uncomfortable with such visitors and Martin let the matter rest.

  The evening was pleasant enough. The visitors were James Moore and his wife; his brother and sister-in-law; their younger son and his bride of six months and two elderly spinster sisters — Marion and Jessica Galloway — who lived together in a rambling manor on the far side of Appledore and who were distantly related to Ruth. The talk ranged from local affairs to matters of state and the current rumour that the Queen would marry Francis, Duke of Anjou. They spoke of the plague which was ravaging Cornwall and then the explorations that were taking place in further parts of the globe. Felicity served at table so that the cook — still troubled by her teeth and with a swollen jaw — need not appear. Martin tried several times to catch Felicity’s eye but she kept them resolutely downcast and he finally gave up. The young bride, a homely girl with red-gold hair, stared at Felicity when she
thought herself unobserved and Maria wondered anxiously whether she had recognized the girl’s condition.

  The only awkwardness occurred when James’ brother Lionel congratulated Martin on acquiring such an excellent property and urged him to find a wife to share it. He could recommend a young woman, he told him. At that moment Felicity’s hand shook and she let a handful of spoons fall back on to the table. In the ensuing good-natured teasing the topic was forgotten.

  Hugo’s letter, when it arrived, was furious and unequivocal. In no circumstances would Martin marry Felicity Carr. She had no money and no connections. Romney House needed a mistress with both. The mine was finished and Heron would soon be forced to sell its land if the Kendal family were to survive. Allan, totally irresponsible, had vanished and was contributing nothing. Their young son Piers had somehow to be kept at Winchester, the tutor must be retained for Lorna. If Martin also chose to behave recklessly he, Hugo, could only despair …

  Maria sighed as she read the letter. The handwriting was scrawled and she could imagine the suppressed anger that had propelled the pen across the page. The ink had splattered and the paper was sharply creased. She could see his heavy thumb pressing the folds. She was very glad she had not experienced his anger at first-hand. The letter ended forcefully. Martin must marry well if Romney House and Heron were to survive. His bride must have a large dowry and she must come from a well-respected family. Martin must be told and the child must be fostered. If Maria had not made satisfactory arrangements within the month he would join her at Romney House and see to it personally.

  There was no greeting at the head of the letter and no fond farewell. Slowly Maria refolded the letter. No, it was not a letter, she thought. It was a bitter communication from one human being to another. She put the letter to her lips and kissed it. ‘Oh my dearest Hugo,’ she whispered! ‘What is happening to us? We must not let circumstances come between us.’ She would write back to him, she decided. It would be a hopeful, loving letter. Of course she could make satisfactory arrangements for Felicity and the child. This was one burden he should not have to take on his own shoulders. She would be home as soon as she could. Christmas was nearly upon them all and mayhap Allan would come home to surprise them. They would start 1577 with fresh enthusiasm and Fate would be kind to them! She wanted to write the letter at once but first she must speak with Felicity. When Felicity had told Martin, then she, Maria, would talk to both of them. She re-read the letter and nodded. Trying to assume a confidence she did not feel, she went in search of Felicity.

  *

  The following morning Felicity waylaid Martin on his way out. She had risen earlier than usual and stood outside feeding the chickens, halfway between the house and the stables where she was sure they would not be overheard.

  ‘What are you doing up so early?’ he asked cheerfully.

  Felicity stood in the midst of the clucking hens, an apron tied strategically over her swelling belly.

  ‘I’ve something to tell you,’ she said quickly, fearful in case he rushed past her. ‘’Tis most urgent, Martin. I pray you wait awhile.’

  Martin looked at her, disconcerted by her manner.

  ‘Good tidings or bad?’

  ‘For me, good,’ she answered. ‘For you? I think you will be angry. I am with child, Martin.’

  The expressions that chased over his face spoke volumes. Shock, disbelief, belief and dismay. Perhaps she had hoped for more but she had not expected it.

  ‘But you said — ’

  ‘I lied to you,’ she said carefully. ‘But with good reason. No, please hear me — ’

  ‘Then ’tis mine for you’ve lain with no other man to my knowledge. A child!’

  He could scarcely keep the triumph from his voice. ‘Does anyone else know of this? I hardly know what to say — ‘tis so sudden. Our child! Felicity — ’

  ‘You will be angry, Martin, but you must hear me out. I deserve your wrath. I kept it from you these four months because — ’

  His eyes widened. ‘Four months? Felicity, do you know what you’re saying? Four months gone. Then in five months more — ’

  He took her by the shoulders, and his eyes lit up as he let out a whoop. ‘Allan will never forgive me! A child for me and him in his twenties and still childless! Ah, what I’d give to see his face when he knows. I shall scour the streets of London in search of him and tell it to him myself!’

  For a moment he had almost forgotten her and she watched him, feeling strangely dispassionate. He was still a child himself, she marvelled. An excited boy who has won a race with his brother! The look in her eyes brought him down to earth.

  ‘The child is mine,’ she repeated. ‘Hugo has decided that we should not marry and I do not wish it.’ That was a lie but she felt it necessary in the circumstances. ‘You must marry well for the sake of Heron and I understand that. Maria will help me — find me somewhere to live. A position where I can keep the child. Allan will have nothing to fear. The child will not be a Kendal.’

  ‘Not be a Kendal? By Christ! I shall decide that!’ Martin’s face worked furiously. ‘Who else shall decide the fate of my child? He will be a Kendal — if I decide so.’ He broke off and she could see his thoughts racing. ‘I shall wed you!’

  ‘No! ’Tis impossible. You know it and so do I.’

  His mood changed and he was bewildered. Felicity pitied him.

  ‘If we don’t wed,’ he said slowly, ‘then I could adopt him when I do. He shall be legitimized.’

  ‘No!’ she cried, suddenly passionate. I shall bring him up. I am his mother.’

  ‘But he is a Kendal!’

  ‘No, not without marriage. He is a Carr. You will have other sons. They will be Kendals. This one,’ she put a hand protectively to the slight swelling that was the child, ‘this one will be a Kendal only in my eyes.’

  Martin shook his head wonderingly. ‘And all this time you knew and you didn’t share it with me.’

  ‘I was afeared. I thought you would want me to rid myself of it.’

  ‘Aye, that would have been — ’ He checked himself hastily. ‘So Hugo knows. When was he, told? Before me?’

  ‘Aye, but ’twas Maria that told him in a letter.’

  ‘Matt! I can see it now.’ He shook his head again. ‘I thought it odd that he should leave so soon, and looking so ill-tempered.’

  ‘Poor Matt.’

  ‘Matt is not to be pitied!’ he shouted, shaking her roughly. ‘’Tis I who deserve your pity — Oh, forgive me! I forgot!’ He released her guiltily. ‘You should have told me!’ he said. ‘You would have had all the love and comfort you wanted. You would have had a wedding ring. Aye, we could have wed and told them after.’

  ‘And borne their rage? They might well have cast us off and you would grow to hate me then.’

  ‘Don’t say such things! Oh Felicity — my sweet Felicity. What’s to be done? If you go away when will I see my child?’

  ‘And when will I see you?’ she whispered. ‘I love you, Martin. No, don’t pretend you return it for I know ’tis not true. You are too young to love anyone but that’s to be expected.’

  ‘I’m not too young to father a child!’

  ‘No, but I beg you Martin, don’t let us part enemies. We have been loving and pleasant together and we have a child. Let it be a secret joy to you and not something of which you are ashamed. I confess I did wrong to keep it from you, but I wanted so desperately to bear you a son. I shall never regret it. Tell me you will think kindly of us both.’

  ‘I will. Indeed I will. Felicity, the child — does it move yet?’

  ‘Not yet. Another month, I think.’

  ‘And will you still be here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said simply. ‘I am content to put myself into the hands of Fate. Whatever is in my stars, so shall it be.’

  *

  In the evening they sat round the fire. Felicity and Martin on one side of it and Maria on the other. Felicity was very pale and she fidgeted with the
braid on her dress. Martin sat close to her but not touching, and although Felicity touched his hand lightly he did not take hold of it. He stared into the fire, his legs stretched out, a defiant expression on his face which made him look his age and very vulnerable. Maria tried to speak briskly and without emotion but it was difficult. Felicity’s quiet manner evoked her sympathy and Martin’s occasional blustering irritated her. But she made allowances. It was a distressing matter and they all reacted in their own ways according to character. Maria began by reading Hugo’s letter aloud so that there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the measures she was going to suggest were necessary and for the general good.

  ‘Our good?’ Martin interrupted her. ‘Or the child’s good?’

  ‘Everyone’s good — as well as it can be,’ said Maria. ‘One love child cannot be allowed to bring down Heron. Allan’s inheritance cannot be used to support this household. In fact, it cannot do so for there is very little money and we can only sell plate. After that all we have is land and without that all is lost.’

  It was a sobering admission and Martin and Felicity looked at her in alarm.

  ‘I propose,’ said Maria gently, ‘that we ask Frank Innly to take in the child and … ’

  ‘Not without me!’ cried Felicity, her eyes blazing.

  ‘ … and you.’ Maria finished the sentence. ‘Your twenty-five crowns would pay for your keep and you could help care for the children or even the sheep. Martin should finish his year with Frank and — ’

  ‘But surely Felicity can stay here until the child is born!’ cried Martin. ‘There is no need to banish her like a criminal. Innly is a good man but they are peasants!’

  Maria went on as though he had not spoken. ‘Martin should finish his year with Frank and mayhap, if our financial position is better, could then spend a year in Italy.’

  ‘We are both to be banished!’ he cried.

  Felicity gave him a quick glance which said that he should restrain himself. ‘I beg you, be patient,’ she said.

  ‘By this time,’ said Maria, ‘you will be nearer eighteen and we can begin negotiations for a wealthy bride. ’Tis no use to protest, Martin. You have always known that Romney House can scarcely survive on sheep alone. Harold had his own fortune, but there is nothing left of it. There is not enough land to graze more sheep and not enough money to buy more land.’