“Aye, he’ll do that, all right. He’ll strut and prance and put on a fine show.”
After Christina left Dax, she walked through the woods in back of the stables until she came to the small pond where she and Tommy used to swim. It was a peaceful place, shaded by a tall oak whose limbs reached halfway over the water.
She sat down and leaned against the old tree recalling a similar pond in the mountains. Philip probably took Nura there now.
Christina returned to the house late. The sun had already disappeared, and the sky was a soft purple and steadily growing darker. Christina stepped into the lighted hallway. It had become a bit chilly, and she rubbed her bare arms briskly as she headed for the drawing room.
The room was in darkness when she entered. Only the soft light from the hallway allowed her to see her way to the fireplace. She took one of the long matches from the mantel and lit the fire, then stood back as it gained strength. Gradually the warmth touched her, and she moved away to light the many lamps throughout the room. She had taken only two steps when she saw a figure standing in the shadows by the open window. She gasped in sheer fright when the figure moved toward her, but her fear turned to anger when she saw who it was.
“You scared the wits out of me, Tommy Huntington! What the devil are you doing in here in the dark?” she said angrily.
“I was waiting for you, but I didn’t mean to scare you,” he replied meekly. He usually backed down when confronted by Christina’s anger.
“Why didn’t you speak out when I entered the room?”
“I wanted to watch you without being observed.”
“What on earth for?”
“Even in your present condition you—you’re still the most beautiful girl in England.”
“Why, thank you, Tommy. But you know I don’t like being spied upon, and I didn’t expect to see you again today. Are you here for some special reason? If not, I’m tired and I plan just to have my dinner and then go to bed.”
“Then why come in here and light the fire?”
“You can be very exasperating! I’m going to eat in here, if you must know. I don’t like having my meals in that big dining room all by myself.”
Just then, one of the downstairs maids came into the room, but stopped when she saw Christina.
“I was just going to light the lamps, miss.”
“Well, go ahead. Then have Mrs. Ryan prepare my dinner, please.”
“Mind if I join you?” Tommy said.
Christina arched an eyebrow, surprised at his request. Perhaps he was willing to remain friends.
“Molly, have two dinners prepared, and you may serve them in here. And let Johnsy know I’m back, please, so she doesn’t fret.”
After the maid left, Christina moved to the couch, and Tommy sat down beside her.
“Christina, I have something to say, and I want you to hear me out before you answer.”
She took a better look at him and noticed that he had matured during the past year. He had grown taller, and his face was less boyish. He’d even grown a moustache, and his voice sounded deeper.
“All right, Tommy. Go ahead—I’m listening.”
“I’ve spent the whole afternoon overcoming the shock of your loving another man. I—I have come to the conclusion that I still love you. It doesn’t matter that you will bear someone else’s child. I still want to marry you. I will accept your child and raise him as if he were my own. Soon you will forget this other man. You will learn to love me—I know you will! And I won’t ask you for an answer now. I want you to think about it for a while.” He paused, and took her hand. “I can make you happy, Christina. You’d never regret becoming my wife.”
“I’m sorry that you still feel this way about me,” said Christina. “I hoped we could still be friends. But I can’t marry you, Tommy. And I’ll never change my mind. The love I have for the father of my child is too great. Although I will never see him again, I can’t forget him.”
“Damn it! Christina—you can’t live with a memory. He’s far away, but I am here. Can’t you find room in your heart for another love?”
“Not that kind of love.”
“What about your child? I’d give him a name. He wouldn’t have to go through life a bastard.”
“The news of my pregnancy has probably traveled all through Halstead already. My child would be called a bastard even if I did marry you. Only his true father can right that wrong.”
“But still, Crissy—the child will need a father. I’d love him—if only because he’s yours. You must think of the child.”
Christina moved away from him and stood by the fire. She hated to hurt Tommy.
“Tommy, I’ve already told you—”
“Don’t, Christina—don’t say it.” He stood behind her and clutched her shoulders. “For God’s sake—think about it! You’re all I’ve ever dreamed about, ever wanted. You can’t destroy my hopes so easily. I love you, Crissy—I can’t help it!”
He turned and left the room without giving her a chance to answer him. A few minutes later, Molly brought in two meals, but had to take one back.
Christina ate at the gold-and-white marble-topped table before the couch, facing three empty chairs.
She felt stuffy and fat, lonely and miserable. Damn, why did Tommy have to make her feel so guilty? She didn’t want to marry him, because she just couldn’t bear living with another man after Philip. Why did Tommy have to love her? She was not going to marry him, or anyone else.
Pushing herself from the couch, Christina left the room and started up the stairs. She’d thought she could have her baby in peace at home, but she might as well have stayed in Cairo.
IN THE SLOW-MOVING months that followed, Christina busied herself preparing a nursery for Philip’s son. She chose furniture, and decided on a light-blue-and-gold pattern for the drapes and easy chairs, and a light-blue carpet. A doorway was cut to connect her room with the baby’s room.
The nursery was ready. All the little clothes that Christina had made were put away. And she was bored with nothing to do.
She couldn’t ride, she couldn’t help around the house. All she could do was read and take her walks. Her heaviness was becoming impossible to bear, and she wondered if she would ever be slim again. She turned her full-length mirror to the wall; she was so sick of looking at her rounded shape.
Tommy made her life miserable. He came to see her every day, and every day it was the same thing. He just wouldn’t give up.
She told him over and over again that she wouldn’t marry him, but he never listened. He always had new reasons why she should marry him, and closed his ears when she said she would not. She was getting sick of it.
It was late in the afternoon of a September’s day when Christina finally made a decision. She went from room to room in search of Johnsy, and found her in the nursery dusting the furniture where there was no dust. Christina walked in and stood beside the cradle. She flicked the colorful clowns and toy soldiers hanging above the little bed, making them dance merrily in the air.
“Johnsy, I’ve got to get away from here,” she said suddenly.
“Whatever are you talkin’ about, love?”
“I just can’t stay here any longer. Tommy is driving me crazy. It’s the same thing over and over again, every time he comes here. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“I won’t allow ’im to see you, that’s all. I’ll tell ’im ’e’s not welcome ’ere.”
“You know he won’t stand for that, and it would just give me more to worry about. I’m always nervous, waiting for him to show up.”
“Aye, that’s not good for the baby.”
“I know, that’s why I have to leave here. I’ll go to London and rent a room at a hotel. I’ll find a doctor to call when the time comes. But I’ve made up my mind. I’m going.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You’ll not go to London—to a place filled with people who ’ave no time for anyone but themselves—an’ you all by yourself,” Johnsy r
eplied, shaking her finger at Christina.
“But I’ve got to—I’ll be all right.”
“You didn’t let me finish, love. I agree you should get away from Master Tommy. But not to London. You can go to my sister who works over in Benfleet. She’s the cook on a large estate belongin’ to a family of the same name as that man you love.”
“Caxton?”
“Aye, but that Philip Caxton couldn’t be no gentleman, not with what ’e done.”
“Well, Philip’s only family is his brother, and he lives in London.”
“Aye, so you can go and ’ave your baby there, at Victory, I think Mavis said it was called. An’ you’ll ’ave people there who will take care of you.”
“But what will the owner have to say about my staying in his home?” Christina asked.
“Mavis says the master’s never there—always gallivantin’ across the seas. All those servants ’ave that big ’ouse all to themselves, with nothin’ to do but keep it fit.”
“But you’ve mentioned Mavis before. I thought she lived in Dover.”
“She did, until seven months ago. The old cook at Victory passed away, an’ Mavis just ’appened to ’ear of the openin’. The master pays ’is servants ’and-somely. ’E’s a very rich man. Mavis said it was ’er porridge that won ’er the position. There was so many applied, she was lucky to get it. I’ll send ’er a message tonight to let her know you’re comin’. Then you can pack and leave tomorrow. I’d like to go with you, love, but this ’ouse would be in ’avoc if I left.”
“I know, but I’m sure I’ll be fine with your sister to look after me.”
“Aye, an’ they ’ave a kind’earted ’ousekeeper there, too. I won’t worry with you in good ’ands.”
Christina didn’t tell Tommy she was leaving when he came to call that night. She left that for Johnsy to do after her departure.
After a journey of three days, Christina arrived at the vast estate known as Victory in the late afternoon. They had driven for the last half-hour over the Caxton land. Christina realized that it was at least twice the size of Wakefield. The sprawling three-story brownstone mansion covered with moss and ivy was magnificent.
Christina grasped the knocker, a large iron “C,” on the towering double doors and let it fall twice. She felt nervous about coming to people she didn’t know, and thought it ironic that she should come to the home of a man named Caxton to have her baby, sired by a man named Caxton.
The door opened then, and a small, chubby woman peered out and smiled warmly. She had black hair streaked heavily with gray and knotted at the back of her head, and soft gray eyes.
“You must be Christina Wakefield. Come in—come in. I’m Johnsy’s sister, Mavis. I can’t tell you how glad we are that you’ve come here to have your baby,” she said cheerfully, ushering Christina into a mammoth hall that towered at least two stories high. “When the messenger come this morning bringing the news that you were on your way, why, it put this old house to life again.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Christina said.
“Nonsense, child! What trouble could you be? There’s nothing but idle hands in this house, what with the master always gone. You are truly welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like—the longer the better.”
“Thank you,” Christina returned.
The great hall, dimly lit, was lined with ancient tapestries depicting battle scenes and landscapes. Two curving staircases lay at the end of the hall, with heavy, intricately carved double doors between them. Chairs, couches, and marble statues stood against both walls.
Christina was awed. “I’ve never seen such a huge hall. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, the whole house is the same—big and lonely. It needs a family living in it, but I don’t think I’ll live long enough to see that happen. The master seems not to want to marry and have children.”
“Oh—he’s young, then?” Christina was surprised. She’d pictured him as old and feeble.
“So I’m told, and irresponsible as well. He prefers living abroad to running his estate. But come, you must be exhausted after traveling across the countryside in your condition. I’ll take you to your room, and you can rest before dinner,” Mavis said, leading Christina up the stairs. “You know, Miss Christina, your baby will be the first to be born here in two generations. The housekeeper, Emma, told me Lady Anjanet was the last, and she was an only child.”
“Then Mr. Caxton was not born here?” Christina asked.
“No, he was born across the sea. Lady Anjanet traveled a great deal when she was young,” Mavis replied.
A feeling of uneasiness began to creep over Christina, but she shook it off.
“I will put you in the east wing—it catches the morning sun,” Mavis said. They reached the second floor and started down the long corridor. It, too, was hung with beautiful tapestries.
Christina stopped when she came to the first door. It stood open, and the blue interior reminded her of her own room. She was amazed at the size and beauty of the room. The carpet and drapes were dark-blue velvet, and the furniture and coverlet on the massive bed were a lighter blue. There was a huge black-marble fireplace.
“Could I stay in this room?” Christina asked impulsively. “Blue is my favorite color.”
“Of course you can, child. I am sure Mr. Caxton won’t mind. He is never home.”
“Oh—I didn’t know this was his room. I couldn’t possibly—”
“That’s all right, child. The room needs to be lived in. It hasn’t been occupied for well over a year now. I’ll have your baggage brought in here.”
“But aren’t his things—his belongings in this room?”
“Yes, but the room was made for two people to live in. There is plenty of empty space for you.”
After dinner, Mavis gave Christina a tour of the downstairs. The kindly housekeeper, Emmaline Lawrence, joined them. The servants’ quarters, a large library, and a school-room were on the third floor. The west wing’s second floor was never used, but downstairs a large ballroom covered the entire back of the house. Christina saw the kitchen, a large banquet room, and a smaller dining room on one side of the house. And on the other side was the master’s study and the drawing room.
The drawing room was beautifully done in green and white, with many portraits adorning the walls. Christina was drawn to the largest of them, hanging above the fireplace. She stood before it looking into a pair of sea-green eyes flecked with gold. It was the portrait of a lovely woman, her coal-black hair flowing over bare shoulders. Christina’s earlier uneasiness returned, powerfully.
“That is Lady Anjanet,” Emma informed Christina. “She was so beautiful. Her grandmother was Spanish—that’s where she got her black hair, but her eyes are from her father’s side of the family.”
“She looks so sad,” Christina whispered.
“Yes, that portrait was painted after she came back to England with her two sons. She was never happy again, but she never told anyone the reason.”
“You mentioned two sons?”
“Yes, Mr. Caxton has a younger brother who lives in London.”
Christina felt a wave of dizziness, and collapsed into the nearest chair.
“Are you all right, Miss Christina? You look pale,” Mavis exclaimed.
“I don’t know—I—I just felt a bit faint. Would you mind telling me Mr. Caxton’s first name,” she asked. But she already knew the answer.
“I thought I had,” said Emma. “His name is Philip. Philip Caxton, Esquire.”
“And his brother’s name is Paul?” Christina asked weakly.
“Why, yes—but how did you know? Are you acquainted with Mr. Philip?”
“Acquainted!” Christina laughed hysterically. “I’m going to have his baby.”
Mavis gasped.
“But why didn’t you tell me?” Emma asked, a shocked expression on her face.
“I think it’s wonderful!” Mavis blurted.
“But you don’
t understand. I didn’t know this was his home. Mavis, you never told Johnsy Mr. Caxton’s first name, and Philip never told me he had an estate in this part of the country. I can’t stay here now—he wouldn’t like it.”
“Nonsense,” Emma smiled. “What better place for Mr. Philip’s baby to be born than in his own home?”
“But Philip didn’t want me. He doesn’t want this child.”
“I can’t believe that, Miss Christina—you’re too lovely,” said Mavis. “Mr. Caxton cannot be that much of a fool. Did you tell him about the child?”
“I—I knew he didn’t want this child, so I saw no point in telling him of it.”
“If you didn’t tell him, then you can’t be sure of his feelings,” Emma said reasonably. “No, you will stay here as planned. You cannot deny me the chance to see Philip Caxton’s child.”
“But—”
“Now I don’t want to hear another word about your leaving. But I would love to hear how you and Mr. Caxton met!”
“I want to hear the whole story!” said Mavis.
Christina looked up at the portrait of Lady Anjanet. How like her Philip was!
A few weeks later, Christina’s pains started. She felt the first slight cramps while taking her morning stroll in the vast floral gardens behind the house.
Emma immediately put Christina to bed, set water to boil, and summoned Mavis, who was experienced at delivering babies. She remained at Christina’s side and assured her that everything was going well. The hours passed by slowly, and Christina fought back screams as her pains came faster.
She labored fourteen long hours. With a final great effort, she pushed her baby into the world, and was rewarded by his lusty wail.
Christina was exhausted, but she smiled contentedly. “I want to hold my son,” she whispered weakly to Emma, who was standing beside her bed looking just as worn-out as Christina.
“As soon as Mavis finishes washing him, child, you can have him. But how did you know he was a boy?”
“What else would Philip Caxton sire?”
IT WAS MIDDAY in late September, and the slow-moving ceiling fans did nothing to alleviate the stuffiness in the small hotel dining room. Philip had arrived in Cairo only yesterday. This morning he’d managed to find a decently fitting suit, and had ordered everything else he would need for his journey home. Now he sat with a glass of cognac waiting for his meal, his mind a blank. He didn’t want to think about his last eight months of living hell.
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