The love child

The Elopement

FOR THE NEXT FEW days I could not go out. On the morning following our visit to the Exchange my ankle was very swollen and Gregory said I should see a doctor. He called one in and the verdict was the same as that of the apothecary. I must rest it and in a few days I should be able to walk on it.

I felt frustrated. Fervently I wished that we had not come to London. Gregory and Harriet took Carlotta to Mulberry Gardens one afternoon so that she should not be disappointed. They took her to Spring Gardens one evening where they supped. Carlotta came in to tell me all about it, her eyes sparkling with the wonder of it all. They had walked through the gardens where they had eaten a collation of fish and venison pie followed by tarts and syllabub; and with it they had drunk a fine muscatel wine.

They had watched the masked ladies parading through the paths and the gallants who had pursued them. Harriet had declared that it was nothing compared with what it had been in the days of Charles when people knew better how to enjoy life. But they had seen some of the players from the theatre walking there, and Carlotta had enjoyed it greatly.

I would wait breathlessly for some mention of Beaumont Granville, for I had a notion that he would not allow the acquaintance to peter out. I was sure that he was bent on some mischief, and those days when I lay on my bed resting my foot, or sat at the window watching people pass by, were for me filled with frustration and fear.

As the days went on I began to think that I had perhaps attached too much importance to the matter. After all, what had happened was no credit to him. Perhaps he wanted to forget it too.

Yet he had looked at me with that sly mockery which had set the fear rising in my heart. I must hope that he had forgotten, and I would suggest that we return to Eversleigh sooner than we had planned.

At length I was able to hobble about, but I still had to take care, and Harriet suggested that a visit to the theatre would not be too taxing and this was arranged.

“After all,” she said, “you only have to walk to the carriage and then from it into the theatre.”

It seemed a good idea and I was glad to be able to get about. I had said nothing more about Beaumont Granville and I presumed the incident had been forgotten.

It was always exciting to be in a theatre—particularly with Harriet, who knew so much about it, having, of course, once been a player herself. The play was William Wycherley’s The Country Wife, which even Harriet had never seen, and I felt my spirits rising.

We had a box near the stage and Carlotta was chattering rapidly, asking questions of Harriet as to who was that and who was this, which delighted Harriet, though she admitted she had been stagnating in the country for far too long.

“We really must come to Town more often, Gregory,” she said.

“Oh, yes, please, we must,” cried Carlotta.

The smell of orange peel was strong in the air; it mingled with the apothecaries’ scents and the less pleasing odours of humanity. It was all part of this somewhat unreal but intriguing world of the theatre. The orange girls proffered their fruit to the young men in the pit who were clearly, and not very successfully, aping the nobility and doubtless making assignations. There was a great deal of giggling and general noise until some elegant lady, masked and accompanied by an exquisite dandy, entered one of the boxes. Then there would be a brief silence while the company studied her in awed curiosity.

The play began. It was quite amusing and I felt better than I had since I had seen Beaumont Granville. Perhaps I had exaggerated, I told myself. It was just a passing encounter. What could he want with me now? I was no longer the young girl I had been when he had cast his lecherous eyes on me. Moreover, he had not made any effort to renew the acquaintance. It was just that initial shock which had unnerved me and that, having led to this silly accident, had made me feel that trouble was looming.

Then suddenly I noticed that Carlotta’s attention was not on the stage. She was gazing at the box opposite, which a short while before had been empty.

It had an occupant now. At first I thought I was imagining this. He had been so much in my thoughts. But there was no doubt. Of course it was Beaumont Granville. He had come late to the play and there he was smiling at Carlotta. My fears were intensified. He looked strikingly handsome. He certainly lived up to his name. He was dressed in the latest fashion. His square-cut coat of thick silk material was braided across the front in many rows and the buttons were rubies. He wore one of the very fashionable wigs which I had noticed since coming to London. They were profusely curled and heavily scented. The curls fell about his shoulders, almost obscuring the most elegant of white silk cravats. The air of worldliness, combined with that Grecian perfection of feature, showed the world that he was a man who would have few rivals for good looks.

I would have preferred to see the ugliest man possible sitting in that box instead of that exquisite dandy.

I glanced at Harriet. She had seen him, too. I was aware of the smile at the corner of her lips.

Suddenly I knew. They had told him we were coming to the theatre and he was there to see us, to torment me as he was well aware he did, to amuse himself with what to him would seem a piquant situation.

I had ceased to concentrate on the play. I was only aware of the secret looks which crossed between my party and him.

I gave no sign—at least I hoped I did not—that I had seen him. I tried to keep my eyes on the stage and pretend to be absorbed by the action; but I could not have told anyone, had they asked me, what the play was about.

After the first act he came to our box.

“What a delightful surprise!” He was bowing over our hands, his manners matching his appearance.

I realized by the looks exchanged between him and Carlotta that it was no surprise; it was an arrangement between them.

Oh, my God, I thought, what does this mean?

“I am hoping,” he was saying, “that you are going to sup with me after the play.”

“What a lovely idea!” cried Carlotta.

“That would be delightful,” said Harriet. “How kind of you! One should always sup in good company after the play. One of the delights of playgoing is to pick the piece apart afterwards. Don’t you agree?”

“I do with all my heart,” said Beaumont Granville. “Would you care to sup at my place or go somewhere else?”

“I really think we should decline this kind invitation,” I said.

They were all looking at me. He was forcing an expression of concern onto his face, although trying not to show that he was suppressing amusement.

“It is my first outing,” I stammered. “I really feel …”

It sounded so hideously selfish. Because I wanted to go home I was stopping their pleasure.

Gregory, always kind, said: “I’ll take you back if you like, Priscilla.”

They were all looking at me and I thought: No, if they are going to be with him, I must be there to see what happens. I could sense the situation becoming more and more dangerous.

“We will cheer you up,” said Beaumont Granville, looking at me pleadingly. “I have a very fine malmsey wine which I should like you to try. Do come. The company will be incomplete without you.”

“You will certainly not be able to refuse an invitation so graciously given,” said Harriet.

“You must not!” cried Carlotta passionately.

“Ah,” put in Beaumont Granville, “I believe she is wavering.”

“It is good of you all to be so concerned whether I come or not.”

“Then it is decided,” said Beaumont Granville. He sat down and we started to discuss the play. When the interval was over he returned to his box, but I was aware that throughout the play he was watching us.

There was some diabolical scheme working in his mind.

He shepherded us out of the theatre, through the crowds to our coach. He had sent his home and said he would share ours if we would permit it. I noticed how people made way for him; some called a greeting. He was clearly well known and many were in awe of him. He had an air of importance which I could see had aroused Carlotta’s admiration. In fact I was beginning to realize that Carlotta’s admiration was great and that he very much enjoyed this.

His house was only a short distance from ours.

“See what near neighbours we are!” he said. “A town house is so necessary. I have an estate near Dorchester, but I confess I spend more time in London than in the country.”

“I have never been to Dorchester,” said Carlotta.

“I hope to change that one day,” he answered.

The house was furnished in a manner to be expected of one with such elegant tastes and he was clearly proud of it.

Supper was ready for us, which showed he had had no doubt of our accepting his invitation. His servants waited on us silently and efficiently. The malmsey was indeed excellent, and so was the food, and I could see that he enjoyed playing host.

He spoke of the play and the players knowledgeably, and he and Harriet were engaged in spirited conversation.

Carlotta listened, hardly ever taking her eyes from his face. Now and then he would look at her and smile tenderly. I was stricken with horror. This was the ultimate nightmare. I could not believe it. She was giving him that kind of hero worship which young girls sometimes feel for older men.

It could not really be what I feared. He must be over thirty years older than she was. My imagination was in a fever. I was suffering from some form of hallucination.

I said: “You have a very fine establishment here, sir. Is your wife in the country?”

He turned his false smile on me. “I have no wife. No, I have never married. I have been too much of a romantic.”

“Oh, is that so? I should have thought your romantic ideals might have led you to marriage.”

“I suppose I was always looking for the perfect woman. Nothing less would suit me.”

“Then it is not to be wondered at that your search was fruitless,” put in Harriet.

“I am not disturbed that life may have passed me by.” He was looking at Carlotta now. “I think my good angel was preserving me. Do you know, it is a belief of mine that if you want something and are determined to get it, and will not allow yourself to be diverged from the main object, it comes to you in time. I am not old yet. In fact I feel fresher and more vigorous than I did in my extreme youth. No, dear ladies, I do not despair.”

“You have travelled a great deal?” I asked.

“I have seen much of the world. But having seen it I want most of all to settle down here in England … living my life between this city and Dorset. A little of the country is good now and then. It makes you appreciate how much more invigorating is life in the town.”

“Oh, I do agree,” said Carlotta. “I wish we could come to London more often.”

“Perhaps you will … now that you are becoming a young lady of fashion.”

She laughed. “Oh, do you really think I am that!”

“In the very best sense. I deplore those people who follow a fashion slavishly, particularly if it is ridiculous and does not suit them.” He had turned his admiring gaze on Carlotta. “You are too young to remember the hideous manner in which women wore their hair in Charles’s time. How they could endure those little rows of curls on the brow I cannot understand. Créve Coeurs, they called them. Heart-breakers! At least that’s what I suppose they meant. Surely there was little less designed to keep a man’s heart intact. I like to see ladies follow their own styles, as you all do so admirably, and not become slaves to the mode of the moment.”

“The lady we saw in the Mulberry Gardens … do you remember?” Carlotta was smiling at him. “She really did look ridiculous.”

“She had so many patches that they looked like a heavenly constellation,” he replied.

In Mulberry Gardens! Carlotta had betrayed the truth to me. During those days when I had been confined to my room, they had been meeting!

I do not know how I lived through that evening. I tried to hide my fears. I tried to be as merry as they were, and all the time I was endeavouring to discover how much they had seen of each other, how far this acquaintance had progressed.

If only we had not come to London!

It was late when we returned home. He put us into our carriage, kissed our hands with grace and charm, and as we made the short journey from his house to ours, my thoughts were in turmoil.

When we stepped out of the carriage and went into the house, Carlotta slipped her arm through mine.

“How is the ankle?” she asked.

I had forgotten it. I could think of nothing but this fearful thing which was looming up over me.

“I scarcely feel it,” I answered.

“I thought it must be painful. You were so quiet this evening.”

“Well, perhaps I felt a little … shut out.”

“Shut out! What do you mean?”

“You have apparently been seeing a great deal of that man while I have been incapacitated.”

“Oh, we have met once or twice. He always seemed to be where we were.”

“By arrangement?” I asked.

She flushed a little.

“Oh, come,” I said, “he knew we were going to be at the theatre this evening.”

“I told him we were going. Why shouldn’t I? It was no secret.”

“You seem to be on very good terms with him.”

“Why not? He is so kind. And is he not amusing? I think he is the handsomest man I ever saw.”

“You mean among the old men of your acquaintance?”

“Old? Oh, one never thinks of age in connection with Beau.”

Oh, God help me, I prayed, it has gone further than I thought.

“He is so much more interesting than young men,” said Carlotta. “He has the experience of the world which they lack.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Why have you taken against him! He was so kind to you in the Exchange. I think you’re rather ungrateful.”

“So you have seen him more than once or twice when you have been out with Harriet?”

“Yes … a few times …”

“And have you ever seen him when you have been alone?”

She turned to me almost angrily. “When have I been allowed out alone? You all seem to think I’m a baby. Well, I’m not. And I don’t intend to be treated like one.”

I felt desperately uneasy. It was worse than I had thought.

I had to see him alone. I had to discover what he was planning, for that he was planning something seemed obvious to me.

Carlotta! Could it really be that he was leading her into seduction? What had he said? He had a passion for young virgins. He was cynical in the extreme, I knew. Oh, yes, he was planning something. I could sense that. There was an air of triumph about him when he looked at me. He would be remembering that night when he had forced me to submit to his will, when he had humiliated me beyond endurance. If there had not been so much at stake I should never have agreed to such a bargain.

I imagined that his life had been full of adventures such as that. He would revel in this. It was his nature to wish to subdue people mentally and physically. He was proud, arrogant, vain and cruel. He saw himself as the only person of any importance in the whole world. His desires must be granted and if he had to contrive to achieve that end, he was only too pleased to do so. Intrigue was the breath of life to him. There had been one time when he had lost and he bore the scars to remind him.

Oh, God help me, I prayed. If he attempts to ruin Carlotta’s life there will be a second time. I will do anything … anything rather than that shall happen.

I thought I would first speak to Harriet and see what she had to say. She was a woman of the world. She must have some idea of his intentions.

It was midmorning. She was not yet up but was in bed sipping a dish of chocolate which one of the maids had brought to her.

“Priscilla!” she cried. “So early! And skipping around like a young lamb. That’s a good sign, I’ll warrant. The ankle is behaving in that seemly manner which all good ankles should.”

She was clearly in a good mood and was just about to launch into a comment on the Wycherley play when I said: “I’m worried about Carlotta.”

“Worried! Why, the child is having a wonderful time. And what a little beauty, eh?”

“It’s this man … Beaumont Granville.”

“What a charmer! He has enlightened the days, I’ll admit.”

“How much has he been seeing of Carlotta?”

“Oh, it is Carlotta, is it?”

“Harriet, you don’t seem to understand what sort of man we are dealing with. Yet you know what happened in Venice.”

“My dear Priscilla, as I have said before, that was all those years ago. Most of us have adventures in our youth which might be considered shocking. We grow out of them and if we are wise we forget them.”

“Carlotta is still in the schoolroom. I don’t want her to see this man. He is old … old in years and old in iniquity. I want her removed from him.”

“She adores him. It is amusing the way in which her eyes light up at the sight of him.”

“It doesn’t amuse me.”

“Of late it has become increasingly hard to amuse you. Don’t grow old before your time, Priscilla.”

“I’m worried about Carlotta and that man. I want to go back home. She is my daughter and I want you to help me as you did before.”

“Of course I’ll help you. But really, Priscilla, you are like one of those fearsome Puritans. It’s good for Carlotta to have this little flutter. It is preparing her for life.”

“I don’t want that man to have a hand in the preparations. He’s dangerous. I don’t like him.”

“You’ve made that obvious.”

“I thought you wanted her to have Benjie.”

“Of course, she’s going to have Benjie, but she has to grow up a little more. Stop fretting, Priscilla. Everything will be all right.”

I could see that I should get little help from Harriet, but something would have to be done. What?

An impulse came to me. I had to discover what his plans regarding Carlotta were, and I had an idea that he might tell me, out of bravado. He was so sure of himself and already he was weaning her from me. I had always been impulsive, and no sooner had the idea occurred to me that I must talk to him than I began making my preparations to do so.

I left Harriet, and within an hour had put on my cloak and hood and was walking the short distance between our houses.

I was admitted by one of the servants I had seen the previous night. He showed no surprise at the sight of me. I supposed he was accustomed to women calling on his master.

I was shown into a small room leading from the hall and asked to wait.

He came almost immediately—exquisitely dressed as ever—his square-cut, mulberry-coloured velvet coat open to show his very fine waistcoat; his knee-length breeches were of the same shade of mulberry; his shoes had high red heels, which made him taller than he actually was; and he carried a jewelled snuffbox in his hand. I don’t know why I should have noticed his clothes at such a time, but the manner in which he wore them always made one notice. He was one of the leaders of fashion and well known for it throughout Court circles.

He bowed, holding the snuffbox in his left hand, and taking my hand in his right, kissed it. I shrank visibly.

“What a pleasure!” he murmured. “Once you came to visit me in Dorchester. Now you come to London … of your own ardent wish in both cases.”

“I have come to talk to you,” I said.

“Dear lady, I had not the temerity to imagine that you had come for any other reason this time.”

“What is your object in making yourself so agreeable to my family?”

“I am always agreeable,” he answered, “and my object is to extract as much enjoyment from life as it will offer.”

“And what does this particular enjoyment involve?”

“Pray be seated.” He laid the snuffbox on the table, and brought out a gilded chair for me. He sat on another close to the table. “It is a very interesting situation,” he went on. “It is all very clear to me. So the delightful Carlotta is the result of that peccadillo of yours. A most delightful result, I must say. And her father was Jocelyn Frinton. That is most interesting. Poor fellow, came to a bad end through that low-born monster, Titus Oates. But not before he gave us this delightful creature.”

“Us?” I said.

It was then I realized the extreme cruelty in him. He knew how tormented I had been and he gloated on it … just as he had on my shame and humiliation on that other occasion.

“You will not be allowed to be greedy, dear lady, and keep all that sweetness to yourself.”

“Please explain.”

“I find her enchanting.”

“She is a child.”

“Some of us love children.”

“Depraved people like yourself, you mean.”

“You could say that, I suppose.”

“Then you must turn your eyes elsewhere.”

“My dear Priscilla … I always loved the name. It sounds so prim. Remember I told you that during that ecstatic night we spent together. You haven’t forgotten? I never did. I often wanted to remind you of it. You are not really in a position, are you, to tell me what I should do about your daughter? I have a charming picture of you. You didn’t see it completed, did you? You must come to Dorchester sometime. It is the kind of picture only a lover could produce. Now listen to me. I have a great fondness for your daughter. My intentions are absolutely honourable.”

“Good heavens! You mean you want to marry her! This is too foolish for words.”

“By no means foolish. It is very sensible. The whole of London is talking about the Frinton fortune. Our delightful, beautiful, desirable Carlotta is not only a beauty, she is a considerable heiress.”

“You’re monstrous.”

“I enjoy revealing myself to you as I did on that night … that memorable night. I kept my word, did I not? Were you not surprised? What a gamble you took! You should be grateful to me really. But for me your father would have been long since dead. To seduce a woman is a venial sin, but to save a life is a great virtue. For what I did that night, surely I will have a place in heaven.”

“I would be ready to gamble on the fact that it will be hell for you.”

“Where all the interesting people will be, so they tell me. But we stray from the point. It is not the hereafter that you are concerned with; it is the present.”

“Will you leave my daughter alone?”

“No,” he replied firmly, “I am fond of her. You yourself said I should marry and so I always intended to when I met the lady who had all the necessary qualifications.”

“And Carlotta’s fortune puts her into that category.”

“Exactly. I appear to you to be rich. So I am in a way. I have the credit of the whole of London, but bills do have to be paid in time. There are a great many of them and my life-style is expensive. You see, everyone looks to me to lead the fashion. My tailor’s bills are so long that it takes half a day to read them. I need money. I need that fortune badly. And the Fates have given me a very pleasant way of acquiring it.”

“She is not fifteen years old yet.”

“A delectable age. Moreover she is mature for her age. She is a warmhearted child, longing for love.”

“When I tell her of your cynical proposition what do you think she will say?”

“She will never believe you. She will think you are jealous.”

“She is not so foolish as that. What will happen when I tell her certain things about you?”

“She will tell you that she knows I am a man of experience. That is what she admires. A man who has known many women and selects her for his wife. What greater compliment could there be?”

“The compliment might not be so great if she knew it was her fortune that made her so sought after.”

“I will convince her that I am in no need of a fortune and that the sordid suggestion comes from those who are jealous of youth and happiness.”

He took a pinch of snuff from the box and held it in between his well-manicured finger and thumb. He smiled at me as he took it.

I stood up.

“So,” he said, rising, “our little tête-à-tête is over.”

“This shall never come to pass,” I declared. “I will do anything … anything to prevent it.”

“My dear Priscilla, you are being most unworldly. Let the child be happy. After all, how old were you when you had your first fling?”

“How dare you …”

“I dare much, my dear mother-in-law-to-be. Is that not amazing? You … my mother-in-law. All I ask you, who at the age of fifteen—Carlotta’s age—slipped secretly into Venice to give birth to your bastard child, not to hold up your hands in horror at a man who has had a few adventures which an enlightened society would call normal for the times.”

“For the last time I ask you. Will you go away? Will you promise not to see my daughter again?”

“I will promise you two things. I shall not go away and I shall see your daughter again.”

I faced him and said: “If you attempt to put this evil plan into practice, I will stop at nothing to prevent you. I would kill you.”

The slow smile spread across his face.

“What an intriguing situation,” he said.

I turned away and walked out of the house.

I walked through the streets without seeing anyone or anything. I went straight up to my room and all the time I was asking myself what I could do now.

To whom could I go for advice? Harriet did not understand the horror of the situation. How could she? She did not know what had happened that night in Dorchester. The escapade in Venice she dismissed as a youthful frolic. That was something Harriet could understand. Gregory was kind; he would do anything he could to help, but he was not the most resourceful of men and I felt this would be a situation he would not be able to grasp.

Carlotta? Suppose I talked to her? I thought of Benjie—dear Benjie, who had a great deal of his father in him. When I considered him, I did agree with Harriet that he was the one who would make Carlotta happy. He was steady, he was honest, he would be faithful and love her devotedly. I wanted her to be young for a while, to continue her lessons with Amelia Garston; I wanted her to have a gradual awakening to love and marriage. If this fearful thing which threatened was ever to come to pass, it would be complete misery for her. I could not bear to think of her being submitted to his lust as I had been.

I went to her room. She was getting ready to go out. She swung round and looked at me.

“Whatever is the matter?” she asked.

I touched my face.

“You look so pale and your eyes are wild. You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Carlotta,” I said, “I want to tell you something.”

She came to me and kissed me. Then she pushed me into a chair and drawing up a stool sat at my feet. She put her head against my knee. For all her youthful arrogance, she had endearing ways.

“I’ve thought for some time that you had something to tell me,” she said. “In fact, I fancy you have been on the verge of it now and then. Is it very important?”

“Carlotta, I am your mother.”

She turned and stared at me. “What … do you mean?” she stammered.

“I, not Harriet … am your mother.”

“My mother! But …”

“I have wanted to tell you often. I think you ought to know. Your father was Jocelyn Frinton.”

She continued to stare at me, and then understanding dawned on her.

“So that was why …”

“Robert knew,” I answered. “Harriet told him.”

“Wait a minute,” she said. “It’s all rather bewildering. Tell me everything right from the beginning.”

So I told her how Jocelyn had come to us … a fugitive, and how we had sheltered him and he and I had become lovers.

“We should have married,” I told her, “but he was taken prisoner when we came off the island.”

“Oh, you poor Priscilla! Mother … I suppose I shall call you that now. It’s strange. I hardly ever call Harriet that. She likes to be called Harriet, which is odd … but then Harriet is not like other people.”

“She was good to me. It was her idea. It seemed wild at the time and yet it worked.”

“Harriet loves planning and playacting. She is doing it all the time. And you are my mother. I always loved you. I expect you always loved me, too.”

“Oh, my darling child. I have wanted so often to have you with me. I schemed to have you with me.”

She put her arms around me and held me tightly. “I’m glad,” she said. “Yes, I am glad. I’m what they call a love child, am I not? It’s a beautiful expression in a way. Conceived in love … reckless love I suppose it means, the kind of love that takes no count of the cost.” She paused and then she said suddenly: “Benjie is not my brother.”

“No,” I said happily, “no.”

“He won’t be able to bully me anymore.”

“He has always been so fond of you.”

“What will happen now? Shall you tell people?”

“I shall tell my mother and I suppose she will tell my father. Gregory already knows, of course.”

“Dear Gregory, he has always been such a nice father. One doesn’t tell him things … but I know that he would always be kind and understanding if one did.”

“He is a good man. Christabel knows. She was with us in Venice.”

“Christabel! I never think much about her. She is just … there. And all she thinks about is that son of hers.”

“She helped look after me in Venice.”

“Yes, I was born in Venice and I always thought that rather romantic. And there was all that fuss about my arrival.”

“You’ve always liked fuss, haven’t you, Carlotta?”

“Well, can you wonder … considering my birth.”

She kissed me again and I could see that the news had stimulated her. She was not in the least shocked at having been born illegitimate. She thought it all romantic and exciting, and the fact that I was her mother gave her a certain pleasure. I couldn’t help commenting on it.

“Yes,” she said, “I am glad. You’re the sort of mother I want. That sounds unfair to Harriet. She’s a most exciting mother … but somehow not like a mother. One wants a mother to be a little fussy, caring in a way that makes you impatient … someone you feel will always be there no matter what you have done … someone who’d die for you.”

“Oh, Carlotta,” I said, “I would do that willingly for you and Damaris.”

“Damaris is my sister, of course … my half sister. Everything is turning about. Leigh is my stepfather. Does he know?”

“Yes, he knows.”

“I thought so. You told him, did you?”

“Yes. Before we were married.”

“Obligations, I daresay.”

“You could call it that.”

“Who else knows?”

I hesitated and then I said: “Beaumont Granville.”

She stared at me in amazement. “Beau knows?”

“Carlotta, it is this which made me decide that you must know without delay. I don’t like your friendship with this man.”

“What do you mean, you don’t like my friendship with him!”

“He is not a good man. In fact he is a very wicked man.”

I saw the hard look creeping over her face. The tenderness of a few moments ago was fast disappearing.

“You hated him from the first moment in the Exchange,” she said.

“I hated him before that. I had met him before.”

“You didn’t say so.”

“Did he?”

“No.”

“He was in Venice before you were born … and I think at the time of your birth.”

“Why?”

“He was there … adventuring, I suppose. Doing what he has done all through his useless life.”

“How can you say his life is useless? He has done many things. He was once in the army.”

“I am sure he looked very pretty in his uniform.”

“Please do not sneer at him.”

“He is a wicked man. He tried to abduct me in Venice. Leigh thrashed him. He bears the scars still. That is his life. He seduces girls when he can … preferably young and innocent ones.”

“You are so behind the times, dear Priscilla. You have lived too long in the country.”

“Unlike you who have been in Town for a week or so.”

“I understand him,” she said earnestly. “He has told me so much about his life. Oh, yes, he has had adventures. There have been lots of women. They chased him, you know, and he couldn’t hurt their feelings by refusing them when they were so persistent. But now he has finished with that.”

“Since when?”

“Since we met.”

“Are you telling me …”

She interrupted: “I am telling you I love him and he is in love with me.”

“He is in love with your fortune. Has that occurred to you?”

“He has never mentioned my fortune.”

“He has mentioned it to me.”

She stared at me blankly. “He … has spoken to you!”

“Yes,” I replied, “he wants your fortune. He appears to be wealthy, but he has to keep up appearances and that requires a great deal of money. Yours will be useful.”

“This is so silly.”

“On your part, yes. On his, it is quite clever.”

“How you hate him. Is it because I love him?”

“No. It went back before that.”

“Because he once liked you?”

“He doesn’t like anyone but himself, Carlotta. And he is so besottedly in love that no one else matters.”

“So you have seen him, and because you thought he would tell about Venice you thought you ought to tell me first.”

“Yes, that might be so.”

“You told him, when you were in Venice, that you were going to have me …”

“I did not tell him. I had no conversation with him … in Venice. I was dragged away from a masked ball. Fortunately Leigh was at hand and rescued me.”

“Then who told him?”

“He discovered somehow … I never knew how. He had people who worked for him perhaps. I never found out.”

“And you hate him for knowing it?”

“Not for that … for other things.”

“Well, you will have to stop hating him because I am going to marry him.”

“No, Carlotta. It’s impossible. You are too young for marriage. Good heavens, child, you’re not fifteen years old yet.”

“Many people have married at fifteen. Princesses … queens … always do. As for you, you may not have married, but it would have been more acceptable to society if you had been.”

“It’s a different case.”

“How? You loved my father. I love Beau.”

“He is so old.”

“So you think I want a silly boy?”

“He must be at least thirty years older than you are.”

“I don’t care if he is fifty years older. He is the most exciting person I have ever met, and I am going to marry him.”

“No, Carlotta, you are not. You cannot marry without your parents’ consent.”

“Considering I have only just discovered who my parent is that seems a poor argument to put forward. You have only just acknowledged your relationship.”

That hurt me. As if I had not wanted to claim her all these years!

“Carlotta, do understand. Everything I do is for your sake. You cannot marry this man”—I clutched at some respite—“yet.”

She responded at once. “How long would you expect us to wait?”

“Till you are sixteen.”

“It’s too long.”

“A year then,” I conceded. “Six months at least …”

She appeared to consider that.

Time, I thought. Time will help. As long as she does not rush into this there may be hope.

“All right,” she said, “perhaps we could wait for six months.”

I felt exhausted and desperately unhappy.

The very worst which I had feared had happened. But at least she knew now. That was like a burden lifted from my shoulders.

I went to Harriet and said: “I have told her. She knows now.”

Harriet nodded. “That is as well,” she said.

“And now, Harriet, I want to go back to Eversleigh. I don’t want another day here.”

She looked at me with that understanding which came to her at rare moments.

Then she said: “We will leave tomorrow.”

The next day we began our journey home. Carlotta looked sullen and scarcely spoke to me. At least, I thought, she will not see him for a while. Surely Harriet will not ask him to the Abbas, and I shall certainly see that he does not come to Eversleigh.

We arrived first at the Abbas, and I was hurt when Carlotta said she would stay there for a while and come over to Eversleigh later.

I went back alone.

I knew that I should have to tell my mother about Carlotta’s birth. The secret was out really, and I wanted her to hear it first from me.

She was a little concerned when I arrived. She said I did not look well. Had I had too many late nights? I told her how I had sprained my ankle and she insisted on calling Sally Nullens to look at it.

Sally prodded it and shook her head and said it was all that gadding about. But she could not really see anything wrong with it, and to satisfy her and my mother I promised to rest it every day,

My mother followed me into my bedroom and that gave me the opportunity I needed to be alone with her.

I began as I had with Carlotta. “I have something to tell you.”

She was all concern immediately. “What is it, my darling?”

The gentleness of her voice brought sudden tears to my eyes. I hastily blinked them away. I said: “I am afraid this is going to be a shock to you. I have hated keeping it from you but I was afraid to tell.”

She looked startled. “Surely you are not afraid to tell me anything?”

“I was only afraid of causing you pain.”

“My dearest, are you ill? Please tell me quickly. Can’t you see how you’re frightening me?”

“No, I’m not ill. It’s not that. Something happened to me long ago. I had a child.”

She stared at me incredulously.

“Carlotta is my daughter,” I said quickly; and I told of what had ensued on my night on the island with Jocelyn and of its aftermath.

“Oh, my dear, dear child,” she cried, “you should have come to me. I was the one who should have looked after you.”

“Harriet had this idea.”

“Harriet!” I saw the lights of anger in her eyes. “Harriet would interfere. You and I should have gone away quietly to a little English village in the Midlands … or the North … somewhere where they didn’t know us. Harriet! Venice! That is just like her.”

“I was very grateful to her. She helped me so much, and she pretended that Carlotta was her child.”

“It was crazy. Melodramatic in the extreme.”

“It was better than having the child put out with a foster mother, which is often done in such circumstances.”

“I would have arranged something. We could have adopted her. I would have seen that she was brought into the household.”

“I know you would have helped me, but it seemed better to do it that way then. I told Carlotta about it when we were in London.”

“And Leigh?”

“Leigh knows. He knew before we were married. I told him.”

“Thank God for that! I shall tell your father.”

“I doubt whether he would be interested.”

“But of course he will. Carlotta is his granddaughter. You are his daughter.”

“He has never been the slightest interested in me.”

“Of course he has. It is just his way.”

“Then tell him if you wish. It is a relief that you know.”

“So this is why Carlotta has come into money. It’s from her father’s family.”

I nodded.

She reached for my hand and held it fast. “Oh, Priscilla, when you were little, we were so close.”

“Because my father resented me.”

“He didn’t resent you.”

“He just ignored me. I was a girl and he wanted a boy who looked just like he did. I always knew it. It did something to me. I used to like to go to Harriet’s where Gregory was always so interested in me. He used to show me pictures and tell me stories about them. One day I said to him, ‘I wish you were my father.’ And he said, ‘Hush, you mustn’t say that.’ And I said, ‘Why not? It’s true. We are supposed to tell the truth.’ And what do you think he said to that? ‘You mustn’t tell the truth when it hurts people.’ Then I said, ‘My father would never be hurt because I didn’t want him for a father, because he didn’t want me anyway.’”

She put her arms about me. “I didn’t know you cared so much about him,” she said.

“I don’t care about him.”

“Oh, but you do. My sweet daughter, you do care about him. You should have come to us with your trouble. Oh, how I wish you had come to me!”

“I suppose I might have done. But Harriet seemed the best one to confide in and she was so interested at once and so was Gregory.” Then I was laughing, a little hysterically perhaps. “You seem to care more that I went to Harriet than that I had a child when I was fifteen born out of wedlock.”

“Never mind,” she said, “it is all done with now. I’m glad you told me. Carlotta is my grandchild … like dear little Damaris. There must be no more fretting, no more secrets. We have to forget the troubles and learn to be happy. This has been worrying for you, and is worrying you still. I can see it in your face.”

But how could I tell her the real reason for my worry? How could I ever tell her what happened while she lay in a fever in a Dorchester inn?

She told my father that night.

He said nothing to me about the matter. I did catch him once or twice looking at me intently, as though he saw me in a different light. I could imagine that he was thinking that his daughter, whom he had scarcely noticed, was a woman after all. She had perhaps inherited something of her father. She had had a lover when she was in the schoolroom; she had borne his child.

I fancied that he was a little more interested in me than he had been before. But he was as aloof as ever.

Christmas had come, and as usual Harriet and Gregory, with Benjie and Carlotta, were to spend the holiday with us. I was eager to see Carlotta again and deeply hurt when I received her cool greeting. She was blaming me for having shown a lack of understanding about her love affair.

The house was decorated in the usual manner—holly and ivy and some other green plants. The carol singers came and Harriet devised a play in which we all took part on Christmas Day.

Not a word was said about Beaumont Granville, and but for Carlotta’s coolness to me I should have thought he had been forgotten.

I noticed my father watching Carlotta with a certain twitch of the lips which indicated amusement. I supposed he was proud to have such an attractive granddaughter.

I felt a great longing for Leigh who had been absent so many months. He was still on the Continent where the King was deeply involved in the matter of the Spanish Succession, as Louis the Fourteenth was trying to secure the crown of Spain for his grandson. This was of importance to England and to Europe, and William kept troops in Holland. Leigh was in command of one of the companies and Edwin of another. We did not know from one moment to another when fighting would break out, but at least they were temporarily not at risk.

I thought a great deal about my marriage with Leigh. It had never been completely satisfying; yet I loved Leigh and Leigh loved me. I knew that I was to blame.

I could not forget Beaumont Granville. So often when Leigh embraced me I would see the mocking face of that man, and the beloved body of my husband would seem to change to that other. Beaumont Granville had not only bruised and humiliated me on that night; he had done so forever. That was the price I had paid for my father’s life.

Sometimes I wanted to tell Leigh, to explain to him my emotions. I thought if he knew we might grow towards an understanding. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I wanted perfect union between us. I did not shrink from passion, as I knew he sometimes believed I did. It was simply that I could not forget.

I was sure that if only I could bring myself to tell him, he would understand. He would help me overcome this barrier which I had set up between us. He was a man of a passionate nature. I often wondered about him—those long separations were dangerous, particularly as when we were together our relationship lacked the ultimate satisfaction which it should have had.

At the back of my mind was the niggling fear that one day he might turn from me.

What a price I had paid for my father’s life!

And now … Carlotta.

Twelfth Night had come and gone. We had had the traditional cake and the ring had fallen to Harriet who had been Queen of the Night. She had, of course, made us perform all kinds of charades which we mimed under her direction.

I thought wistfully how I should have enjoyed it if Leigh had been there and I had never heard of Beaumont Granville.

The day after Twelfth Night, Carlotta was missing.

I shall never cease to be grateful that we discovered her absence almost as soon as she had gone.

Emily Philpots had come to her room to take a petticoat which she had been embroidering for her, and had found her gone. Emily went in search of her and by great good fortune she met me on the stairs.

“I’ve just been to Mistress Carlotta’s room,” she said.

“Is she still sleeping?”

“No. She is not there. I wonder where she could be at this hour.”

She was not an early riser so it seemed strange that she should be about already. We breakfasted at no given time but came down when we wanted to between half-past seven and nine o’clock to help ourselves from the sideboard—except Harriet who took a dish of chocolate in her room. I had been down at eight and had not seen Carlotta.

I felt a twinge of apprehension and went up to her room.

To my relief I saw that the bed had been slept in. So she must have gone out in the early morning.

I went out into the garden. Jasper was already working near the haunted patch.

I paused to chat with him. He said the weather was unseasonable, too warm. What we needed was a touch of snow to keep the bulbs warm.

He shook his head mournfully. “I don’t know what the world’s coming to.”

“You mean … no snow in January.”

“This is a wicked world,” he went on. “People pay for their sins. Everyone has to be accounted for.”

“That’s a gloomy thought,” I replied. “We’re none of us so pure that some price won’t be extracted for them. Even you, Jasper, will have an account rendered.”

Irony was lost on him. “I’ve served the Lord as best I know,” he said grimly.

“Has it occurred to you that many of us do that? But what we consider best might not be what God does.”

“You was always one to try and twist right and wrong around with words. I mind you as a little girl.”

“Well, Jasper, we are as God made us, as you know full well, and if He doesn’t like us the way we are, well … He shouldn’t have made us that way.”

“I can’t listen to blasphemy, mistress. It’s sinful to open the ear to what may offend the Lord. Besides, I’ve got too much to do. A fine mess that carriage has made out there in the drive. It’s this damp and the rain. Carriage ruts right into the grass.”

“When was this done?”

“Well, ’tweren’t yesterday. No rain then … but we had a real downpour in the night.”

I went with him to the end of the drive and saw the ruts made by a carriage. A sudden horror overwhelmed me. This morning … early … a carriage had drawn up there. For whom? Carlotta?

I went at once to Harriet. She was sleeping; the empty dish which had contained her chocolate was beside her bed.

“Harriet,” I cried. “Wake up, Harriet.”

She opened her eyes and stared at me.

“Do you know where Carlotta is?” I asked.

She looked puzzled and yawned.

“She’s gone,” I cried. “A carriage came this morning. Have you seen Carlotta? What has she told you? What is going on? I must know.”

She sat up. “I have no idea where she is,” she said. “I know nothing.”

I was convinced that she was speaking the truth. I was frantic. Carlotta had run away and I could guess to whom she had gone.

I questioned the servants. No one had seen her leave. Ellen thought she had heard a carriage at about seven o’clock. She wasn’t sure.

It was Amelia Garston who confirmed my fears. When I questioned her, there was something furtive about her. I guessed that Carlotta had confided in her.

At last I made her tell me, although she tearfully protested that she had promised not to.

Carlotta had eloped. Beaumont Granville had come for her early that morning. He had had the carriage waiting at the gates. They were going to London where they would be married.

I thought we should never arrive in time. I insisted on going with them. We took the most fleet of the horses—my father, Gregory and I. I was glad my father had come because I believed he would know how to deal with Beaumont Granville. Carlotta was too young to marry, and Gregory, who had always been as a father to her, and I, her mother, and her grandfather must carry some weight. My father was no longer out of favour at Court and his presence would give us the influence we needed. I doubted Beaumont Granville was the kind of man who would find much favour with the King.

We were in sight of London. It was a misty day with a drizzle in the air. I could just see the towers and spires of the city rising up through the mist. The distance seemed twice as long as it normally did, and I was in the deepest despair before we had the greatest stroke of luck.

There in the road less than a mile from the city was the carriage. One of the wheels had gone into a ditch and the coachman was doing his best to get it out.

“Thank God,” I cried, “we are in time.”

My father took charge.

“Good day, sir,” he said. “And what are you doing on this dull morning? Stuck in a ditch, eh? That’s justice. You have no right, sir, to take this young lady from her home.”

Carlotta had appeared. I saw the blank dismay on her face. She had flushed scarlet and she cried out: “I was not taken from my home. I came willingly.”

“You will return with us … albeit less willingly,” said my father. “This is no way to behave.”

She clenched her fist, but she looked uncertain. She had always been slightly in awe of my father, although he had been softer to her than he ever had to me. There was an affinity between them. She was wild, passionate and self-willed. He was all that, too.

Beaumont Granville looked as urbane as ever and quite unruffled.

“I can explain,” he began.

“No need to,” retorted my father. “Everything is clear to me.

“My intentions were entirely honorable. I proposed marriage and was accepted.”

I cried out: “You were to wait awhile. That was the agreement.”

“You treat me as though I am in the nursery,” protested Carlotta.

“You behave as though you are still there,” growled my father. “Come, get up on my horse. We’ll turn in at the next inn and get you something to ride.”

“It is the young lady’s wish …” began Beaumont Granville.

“My dear sir, you know the penalties for abducting children.”

“I am no child,” cried Carlotta.

“You are not of age and therefore under your parents’ control. I’ll have no nonsense. I could have you before the courts, sir. I have some influence in those quarters. Escapades of this kind are out of date and frowned on.”

Beaumont Granville seemed resigned.

“I’ll stay with you, Beau,” said Carlotta.

“You will return to Eversleigh,” contradicted my father. “And sharp about it.”

Beaumont Granville looked ruefully at the carriage.

“It was our bad luck,” he said to Carlotta. “If this had not happened we should have been married by now, and then they could have done nothing.”

Carlotta was near to tears, but I could see she was overwhelmed by my father. Gregory had said very little. His gentleness would have done little good on an occasion like this.

Beaumont Granville shrugged his shoulders and addressed himself to my father.

“I am sorry, sir, to have caused you this inconvenience, but you know how it is when one is in love.”

He turned to Carlotta and she went to him and stood close. I felt nauseated, fighting back hideous memories. He whispered something to her and she brightened a little.

He held her hand and kissed it. Then she walked over to my father.

We rode off, Carlotta with my father on his big black horse.

Beaumont Granville stood in the road looking ruefully at his coachman who was still trying to pull the carriage out of the rut.