Philippa Carr - [Daughters of England 06]

by The Love Child

  “I couldn’t. I want the child. It has already made a difference to me. I no longer feel as though I died with him. I now feel there is something for me in the future.”

  “Very well, that’s settled. But what are we going to do? Are we going to tell your parents?”

  “I don’t want to. I’d rather go away.”

  “Does anyone else know this? Does Christabel?”

  “No. No one.”

  “So at the moment it is our secret … yours and mine.”

  I nodded.

  “You could go to your mother and tell her. She would consult your father. They might decide on two alternatives: to send you away where you could have your child in secret and then get it adopted, or marry you off to some willing young man who will take you for a price and it will be pretended that your child was born prematurely. No one will believe it, of course, but it helps the conventions. Do either of these prospects appeal to you?”

  “I wouldn’t agree to either.”

  She smiled at me. “You are a very determined young woman, Priscilla. I understand your feelings. Now when I had Leigh I had no such fine feelings. You see how much easier it is for a woman like me. I’m bold and I snap my fingers in the face of convention and everyone thinks I am rather a wicked woman. But I get along very well. I have been thinking about you so much. I shall never forget your dear stricken face when you heard the news. I knew what had happened on the island. It is often easy to see in a young girl’s face when she has taken a lover. I saw it in yours and I was glad for you. He was a charming boy and young love is beautiful. Well, now it is over and I do not regret it. You have had a taste of life and found it first sweet, then bitter. But that is life, my dear. I must stop philosophizing and we must plan.”

  “You are going to help me, Harriet, I know.”

  “Of course I am going to help you. You have always been dear to me. I am very fond of your mother. I have treated her badly at times. It was wicked of me, was it not, to go off with a lover and leave little Leigh—my own child—for her to look after? I was trapped, though. Her parents knew me for the adventuress I was and so did the Eversleighs. They didn’t know then that Leigh was an Eversleigh. They had pinned that indiscretion on some poor, defenceless young man. Oh, it is so complicated and when you read about it you will understand, perhaps. You may not like me much then. I come out in a very bad light.”

  “I shall always love you whatever the lighting is like.”

  “Bless you, child. But let us be serious and clever. We have to be, you know, for this is a mighty problem.”

  “Harriet, what can I do?”

  “An idea came to me when I received your letter because, as I said, I guessed at once what your dilemma was. Would you be prepared to deceive your mother?”

  “I don’t understand, Harriet.”

  “If your mother knows, so will your father, and I gather you don’t want him to.”

  “I dread that more than anything.”

  “You are very close to him in a way, Priscilla.”

  “I! Close to him! He doesn’t care anything for me.”

  “Perhaps that’s why you care so much about him. You want him to love you. You always did. You admire him. Oh, yes, you do. He is the sort of man women admire. Strong, ruthless, virile … completely a man, if you know what I mean. I can assure you that my quiet and loving Gregory is easier to live with. I myself have felt the attraction your father exerts over women. I am not indifferent to him. Oh, understand me, I have no designs on him. I would like to score over him, to snap my fingers at him. I like the fact that his daughter should come to me for help and that I should know what is happening while he remains in ignorance of it. I am talking a lot of nonsense.”

  “No. You’re talking sense. I understand, and I think you realize my relationship with him better than anyone else ever has … more than I do myself. I could not bear him to know what has happened. He is the sort of man who would shrug his shoulders if he knew we had been lovers, but rant and rage against me if I were to have a child. I could not bear him to know.”

  “Then my plan might appeal to you.”

  “Harriet, tell me.”

  “It may not work. It is rather wild. It will need a great deal of careful planning … a certain intrigue.”

  “And you love intrigue.”

  “Working it out, yes. The carrying it out is going to make life very interesting in the next year.”

  “You’re keeping me in suspense.”

  “It is very simple. I will be the mother of the child, not you.”

  “How could that possibly be!”

  “I am not sure yet. I have to work it out. Gregory would be in the secret of course. It would be impossible if he were not. He will be the father.”

  “Harriet, what are you saying!”

  “Now don’t dismiss it. Don’t be one of those people who see defeat everywhere before they have explored the possibility of success. You will have to spend a lot of time with me. Why not? I will tell them that you are in need of a change of scene. You are not well. You are fading away. I will take you away with me for a few months. Then we will go to France … to Italy … Benjie is going away to school. That helps. I shall miss him. So you and I will travel. It is just what we both need. When we have left I will write to your mother and tell her that Gregory and I are in a state of bliss because we are going to have a child. I, who had thought my childbearing days were over! You must be my companion during those waiting months. In due course my/your child will be born and we shall return to England.”

  “Harriet! What an idea!”

  “I can see nothing wrong with it, if we play our cards well. And we shall, never fear. I have played a great many parts and I shall play this one with my usual skill. You will do well, too.”

  “And when we return to England?”

  “The child will live at Eyot Abbas and you will be devoted to it. You will love it as your own and I shall laugh with your mother and tell her that I believe my little Gregory or Harriet, whichever it is, has given you a new interest in life. You will come and stay with me more and more and no one need ever know the truth unless you wish them to.”

  I went to her and hugged her. “Oh, Harriet, you think of the most fantastic ideas!”

  “They work—and so will this. The most difficult part, I believe, is now. You’ll have to go back to Eversleigh. Then we’ll start planning. I don’t want you there too long. You have a household of prying servants. No one must guess your condition, no one. No one knows as yet. Let us keep it that way. Don’t tell anyone.”

  “I was wondering about Christabel. If I come to you …”

  “Christabel should not come. The fewer people who are in a secret the safer it is. Christabel will have to go.”

  “She comes from a wretched home. She is always afraid that she will be sent back there.”

  “I shall have to think about her. I am a little unsure of her. The way in which she came into the house is a little mysterious and she is not treated like a governess, is she? At the moment not a word to her. This is a secret … yours and mine. I shall start working on what we must do. In the meantime you will have to be on your guard. The servants must not guess. You have that hell-raising Jasper and his ninny of a wife and their chaste daughter. You must take special care. I shall not write anything of this to you. It is never safe to put things on paper. I shall in due course ask you to come and visit me. And I will prepare the way.”

  Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

  “I feel so much better,” I said. “It is wonderful to know that you are here.”

  “We’ll do it; I am so excited. I feel pregnant already. I am so looking forward to this child. And dearest Priscilla, you and I will play this to perfection. Remember this: you are not alone.”

  I was caught up in the excitement of it. It was the best thing that had happened to me since Jocelyn’s death. I felt that he was watching over me and that he had given me this to help me over my
sorrow.

  Harriet and I talked constantly about our plan during that visit. Then I returned to Eversleigh.

  Intrigue in Venice

  MY MOTHER NOTICED THE difference in me on my return and I think she was a little hurt that Harriet could comfort me in a way which was beyond her powers. She was glad, though, to find me roused a little from my wretchedness. She did not understand as Harriet did. She could only see me as a child.

  It was only a few days later when she came to my room with a letter she had received from Harriet.

  “Harriet is going away,” she said. “Some friend of hers has offered her a palazzo in Venice. She may be away several months.”

  I lowered my eyes. I knew what was coming.

  “She is very fond of you, Priscilla. She always was. She is suggesting that she take you with her.”

  “Take me with her!” My voice sounded flat. It was difficult to play my part before my mother. “Listen to what she says:

  I must have mentioned the Carpori family to you. I met them years ago during my stage career. The Contessa was always a friend of mine. Now she has offered me their palazzo in Venice. I did visit it once and it is quite a pleasant spot. The fact is I think they would like me to inhabit the place while they are away.

  Gregory thinks it would be a good idea. He will spend part of the time with me. It will be rather a quiet life, I fancy. Now I am going to ask a great favour of you. Could you spare me our dear Priscilla? Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask but I really do think a change is what she needs just now. She has suffered a great shock so recently and I myself was quite worried about her when she was here a short while ago. This unfortunate matter has hit her hard, I fear. I believe this jaunt might be exactly what she needs. Could you put it to her? Ask her what she feels about it. Of course, she may hate the idea—in which case, please don’t press it. I should like the choice to be entirely hers …

  She stopped reading and looked at me. I stammered: “Venice! A palazzo!”

  My mother was wrinkling her brows. I knew that she wanted the best for me and would be wondering whether Harriet was right and this trip would help me to recover from the blow which she realized had shaken me severely.

  “For … how long?” I asked.

  My mother looked back at the letter. “She doesn’t say, but I daresay it would be for several months. I doubt she would plan to go so far for a short stay. And she says Gregory will be coming back to England and she will be alone for a while. What do you think about it, Priscilla?”

  I was silent for a while. I must not seem too eager.

  I said slowly: “I … don’t know. It’s so…”

  “Unexpected,” finished my mother. “But one can always rely on Harriet to do the unexpected.”

  After a brief silence I said: “I think I should like to get away.”

  She nodded. “And you are very fond of Harriet and she of you … as fond as she is able to be of anyone apart from herself.”

  I had to defend her. “She has always been good to me. Gregory and Benjie adore her.”

  “She has special gifts. So you really feel you would like to go?”

  “Yes, I would. I should love to see Venice. I believe it’s very beautiful.”

  “It is said to be.”

  “Mother … what about Christabel?”

  She frowned slightly. “If you were going to be away you would still have to continue with your lessons.”

  “I should like to go alone,” I said.

  “I will see what your father says,” she answered.

  I felt my lips curl bitterly. “Oh, he will not care what I do. I dare swear he’ll be glad to be rid of me.”

  “You don’t understand him, Priscilla.”

  “I do. I understand perfectly.”

  She could see I was becoming emotional so she just shook her head, kissed me and left me.

  My father agreed that I should go to Venice with Harriet. There was one stipulation. Christabel should come with me. I remarked bitterly that he seemed more concerned for Christabel’s welfare than he was for mine.

  “Nonsense,” retorted my mother. “He wants her to go for your benefit.”

  I did not argue the matter. I thought how fortunate I was to have Harriet, and sometimes I would break into a cold sweat wondering what I should have done if she had not been at hand to suggest her preposterous plan. But because she was Harriet it did not seem impossible to carry it out, as it would have done if anyone else had thought of it.

  It was now the end of February and Harriet wrote constantly of what she called “plans.” I was sure she enjoyed writing these letters which she couched in innuendo—references which I could understand and no one else could. Intrigue was the breath of life to her.

  We were going to leave at the end of March.

  “A very appropriate time,” she wrote, meaning that the existence of my baby, conceived in mid-January, could without a great deal of subterfuge be kept secret until that time. “It will be springtime, the time of growth when the flowers and the trees begin to blossom. We shall be there through the summer, which I believe is delightful, and the sunshine more reliable than it is here.”

  “I believe,” said my mother, “that you really are getting excited about this trip.”

  “Venice is said to be so beautiful and I long to see it.”

  She was pleased. I knew she was thinking that I was getting over what she thought of as “that unfortunate episode.” Christabel, too, was excited. They seemed to have forgotten—though I did not—that she had an unfortunate episode of her own to get over.

  I was concerned about her, though. Sooner or later she would have to be in on the secret. I had told her nothing yet. I wanted to wait until I had consulted Harriet.

  There was news from Court. Titus Oates was losing his importance. People were growing less afraid of criticizing him. He had made a big mistake in talking so disparagingly about the Duke of York and in such a way that it appeared he was preparing to make him his next victim.

  “He is a fool,” said my father, “if he thinks the King would see the end of his own brother. Oates should have realized what dangerous grounds he was on when he tried to attack the Queen. The King showed it clearly. It seems to me the man is riding for a fall.”

  I hoped so with all my heart, and then I felt bitterly angry because it was too late to save Jocelyn and my happiness.

  There was comfort, though, in thinking that this wicked man who had caused such misery might now be seeing the end of that power which had been bestowed on him in such a ridiculous manner. It seemed incredible that Parliament could have made the Duke of Monmouth responsible for his safety, the Lord Chamberlain for his lodging and the Lord Treasurer for his food and such necessities. I had heard that he had three servants in constant attendance and two or three gentlemen—after the manner of royalty—to wait on him and wrangle over the honour of holding the basin for him to wash.

  But as such men will do, he had gone a little too far. Voices were being raised against him. My father brought home a pamphlet which had been written by Sir Robert L’Estrange that demanded to know how much longer the country was going to allow Titus Oates to drink the tears of widows and orphans.

  “He has made many enemies, that man,” said my father. “They are waiting to rise against him.”

  I fervently hoped they would rise, and this man who had brought misery to so many would be called upon to answer for his sins.

  But that would not bring Jocelyn back.

  At the middle of March we were ready to leave for Harriet’s. It had been decided that I should stay with her for two weeks before leaving for Italy.

  I said good-bye to my mother who was very sad at my leaving. I think she realized how eager I was to be gone and she construed that as meaning that I was happier with Harriet than with her. I almost felt like telling her the real reason why I had to go away but stopped myself in time.

  The countryside was beautiful on the day we set out. It w
as a sparkling morning, though still cold. Spring was in the air and a certain exultation in my heart. I was very much aware of the growing life within me, and although the way ahead was fraught with difficulties, I could not regret what had happened.

  Only my child could compensate me for what I had lost, and I longed for its birth.

  I looked at Christabel beside me. She was happier than she had been since she had realized that Edwin was not going to defy his parents and offer her marriage. She, too, was getting over her sorrow.

  Harriet received us with that exuberant welcome she bestowed on all her guests, but which was heartening all the same. She took my hands and pressed them with special significance. We were conspirators.

  Soon we were in our rooms—the same as we had occupied on the previous visit—and Harriet was with me within five minutes.

  She put her hands on her hips, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  “Let me look at you. No sign. No sign at all.” She put her head on one side. “Except, perhaps, a serenity of countenance which comes, so they tell me, to all expectant mothers. My dear child. I have such plans. All is prepared. Gregory will play his part as well as he can. He is not the world’s greatest actor … but never mind I shall be there if he fluffs his lines. Your part will be the most difficult … with the exception of mine … but of course I have played different parts before. I shall sustain the role with never a false step, you will see.”

  “But it will only be necessary until we get to Venice.”

  “I don’t plan it that way. This has to be the complete deception. A good name for a play, don’t you think? But this is a play … a masquerade. We can never be sure what might happen if things were known to be as they are. Life is full of coincidences. You cross the Grand Canal on the Rialto Bridge and you run straight into someone you knew at home. ‘My dear Priscilla, how are you? How well you look. I do declare you have put on considerable weight!’”

  I couldn’t help laughing. She had assumed the part of an inquisitive and malicious gossip.

  “People at home will be so interested to hear that we have met and how you are looking!’” she went on. “You see what I mean? No. We are going to play this as it should be played, and that means playing it safely.”