The Love Child (22 page)

It was just after sundown, and as I sat there, I saw a gondola shoot by. There was a bright moon that night so I saw the gondolier quite clearly in his yellow coat and brown breeches, but it was his passenger who held my attention.

As they passed he looked up at the palazzo and I saw his face distinctly.

It was Beaumont Granville.

I felt a sudden wave of terror wash over me. I stood up, turned abruptly and went into my room.

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Then I felt the pain take hold of me. My child was about to be born.

For the next hours I forgot all about Beaumont Granville. There was only the agony to be endured; and yet all the time I was thinking of the child and assuring myself that soon I would emerge from the pain and would have the baby I longed for.

I was aware of the candles that flickered and threw shadows over the room, the sound of voices. Maria Caldori soothing, Harriet tense and anxious… . No longer in her role, I thought, in the midst of my pain.

It was not an exceptionally difficult birth, but it seemed a long time to me before I heard the cry of a child.

I was aware then of a wild exultation. I was a mother. That was all I could think of. I was more exhausted than I had ever been, but I thought: I’m happy.

Harriet was at my bedside-dear, protective Harriet.

“All is well, dear child,” she whispered. “A lovely little girl … our little girl.”

A little girl! That was what I wanted more than anything in the world.

I held up my arms.

“Sleep first,” commanded Harriet. “That’s what you need. Maria Caldori says so. Maria has been wonderful. Now rest, my darling child, rest… rest and then we shall have the little rogue made presentable to meet her mama.”

I was about to protest but an utter weariness came over me and I slept.

It was late afternoon when I awoke. Harriet came quickly to my bedside. She kissed me. “You were wonderful. Now you want to see our little angel. Maria is a tigress.

She hates me to go near her. You’d think it was her baby. Maria, I insist. Give me the child.”

Harriet brought my baby to the bed and placed her in my arms. I felt weak with happiness.

I knew that nothing had ever been so important to me before as this red-faced child with the scanty dark hair and its button nose. She had been whimpering slightly, and when I took her into my arms she stopped and something which might have been a smile crept over her face. How I loved her! I examined her tiny fingers and marvelled at the minute nails. I looked at her little feet.

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“She’s perfect in every way,” cooed Harriet. “We could wish she had a slightly less lusty pair of lungs but Maria is overcome with admiration even for them. If you ask me she spoils the child.”

I lay there holding her in my arms.

This was my daughter, the result of my love for Jocelyn. I thought then: Everything was worthwhile for this.

Harriet and I spent a long tune discussing the name. At length we decided on Carlotta.

It seemed to suit her. She was going to be darkhaired and she had the most enchanting pair of blue eyes. “As though,” said Harriet, “she knew she had to be my daughter so therefore her eyes should be the same colour as mine.” Harriet’s were that rare violet blue and her most startling feature. I wondered whether Carlotta’s would be the same.

Harriet took charge of her. The midwife left with her money and made protestations of her loyalty and gratitude. Never, never should anyone know from her who the mother of the child really was.

All the women of the household wanted the privilege of being the child’s nurse. Harriet chose the most likely, a middle-aged mother who had had several children of her own.

Christabel showed great interest in the child and was clearly moved by her. Christabel was always surprising me. Despite what she had told me I should not have thought she cared greatly for children.

A few weeks passed by. I was completely absorbed by the child and I was dreading the day when we should leave Venice, which meant that Harriet would take Carlotta and I would have to return to Eversleigh.

“I shall tell your mother that you have been so helpful to me, and I am not really cut out to be a mother, and that she must spare you to me often.”

“Harriet, you are a darling, but even so I shall have to leave her for long periods.”

“We’ll work something out, never fear,” said Harriet.

Oddly enough Carlotta managed to bewitch Harriet, who admitted that before the coming of this infant, young children had had no great charm for her. Perhaps all the effort we had made for Carlotta had given this child something extra.

She was going to be a beauty, Harriet declared. “Look at those eyes! That deep sparkling blue. And that adorable button of a nose. It is just right. She knows it, too, I am sure. See how determined she is to have her own way.”

“Really, Harriet,” I chided, “you positively drool over this baby.”

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“I find her excessively drool-worthy.”

She talked of the nursery at the Abbas which would have to be completely refurbished.

“Would it be a good idea to get old Sally Nullens over?”

“She’s an old gossip.”

“There’ll be nothing to gossip about and your mother says she is wonderful with children.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea,” I said. “We were fond of her when we were little.”

“Old Nullens it shall be. I’ve had enough of this place. It’s romantic enough if your sense of smell is not too strong. I believe they throw all sorts of rubbish into the canals. I shouldn’t care for it in whiter, and I do really think we should be making plans.”

She was right, of course.

When Gregory returned to Venice at the end of October, he, too, seemed to fall victim to the baby’s charms.

He agreed that we should start the journey home almost immediately. To leave it later could mean that we might run into really severe weather.

I was sure that he had been prompted to such a comment by Harriet who, now the baby was bora and the real difficulties of the initial stages of the project were over, was growing tired of the monotony of life and was determined to return to England.

So with some misgivings I made my preparations to leave. While I was packing with Christabel, I remembered seeing Beaumont Granville on the night before Carlotta’s birth. Strangely enough, in view of everything that had happened I had forgotten the incident.

I said to her as she was helping me put my things together: “I had a shock on the night my pains started. I thought I saw Beaumont Granville.”

“Beaumont Granville,” she repeated, as though she were trying to remember who he was.

“The man who tried to abduct me. The one whom Leigh nearly killed.”

“Do you think you really did?”

“I was sure of it. I saw him clearly. He was going past in a gondola, and he looked up at the palazzo.”

“You could have been mistaken. Do you think he would come back here after what happened?”

“I shouldn’t have thought so.”

“You haven’t seen him since?”

“No.”

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“Well, you were in a state of tension, you know. You were expecting the baby at any moment … and I imagine it could have been someone who looked like him.”

“That could be so,” I agreed.

And I believed that might be true.

I

144The Price of a Life

Christabel and I arrived back at Eversleigh in time for that Christmas of 1682. I had stayed for two weeks with Harriet, but could not in reason stay longer; and to tear myself away from my child-even though I knew she would receive the best of care-was heartbreaking.

I was certain that Carlotta was an exceptional child. Christabel might smile benignly when I mentioned the fact, but Harriet agreed with me wholeheartedly. My baby really took notice of what was going on, had a definite will of her own and was ready to scream until she was blue in the face until she obtained what she wanted.

I was with her constantly during those two weeks with Harriet, but I knew I had to go. To be parted from my daughter from time to time was the price I had to pay for my unconventional behaviour.

My mother welcomed me warmly.

“How could you stay so long away from us!” she said reproachfully. “Let me look at you. You’ve grown thinner. You’ve grown up.”

“Dear Mother, did you expect me to remain a child forever?”

“And to have travelled so far and lived abroad so long! You will miss all that now you are home. I suppose Harriet will want to be off again shortly. She was always a wanderer. It’s amusing about

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the baby. I’ll swear she wasn’t very pleased when she first discovered her condition.”

“Harriet loves Carlotta dearly. Oh, Mother, she is the most lovely little girl.”

“One would expect Harriet to have a beautiful daughter. If she is only half as goodlooking as her mother she will be the toast of the Court.”

“She is going to be a beauty, I am sure.”

“She seems to have charmed you, at any rate. Come into the house. Oh, Cilia, it is good to have you home.”

I wanted to say it was good to be home, but it wasn’t. No place could be good unless Carlotta was in it.

I told my mother that Harriet had suggested Sally Nullens go over to Eyot Abbas as nurse to the baby.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “Sally will be mad with joy. She’s been going round like a shepherd who has lost her sheep ever since Carl escaped from the nursery.”

“Shall I go and tell her right away?”

“Do. There’s no point in withholding such good news.”

I went up to Sally’s sitting room. It was just as it had been before I went away.

She was sitting watching the kettle which was beginning to sing and was close on boiling; and Emily Philpots was with her. They looked startled to see me and I thought they had aged a little since I last saw them.

“Well, if it’s not Miss Priscilla,” said Emily.

“Back from foreign parts,” added Sally. “Why people want to go of! like that I can’t make out, and to bring a little baby into that sort of place … it’s likely to affect it for the rest of its life. It’s heathen, nothing more.”

“I am sure you will soon make a nice little Christian of her, Sally,” I said.

There was a hint hi my words which made her perk up her ears. She looked at me rather breathlessly. Babies were to Sally Nullens what lovers were to romantic young ladies.

I said quickly: “Lady Stevens suggested to me that you might be prepared to go over to the Abbas and look after her child. I thought it was a good idea.”

Sally’s nose had turned slightly pink at the tip. I heard her whisper something like “a dear little baby.”

“Would you consider going, Sally?”

It was an unnecessary question. I could see that in her mind she was already getting the nursery together.

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She pretended to consider. “A girl, is it?”

“The most beautiful little girl in the world, Sally.”

“I never cared much for beauties,” said Emily Philpots. “They give themselves airs.”

I could see by the way she screwed up her face that Emily was growing sick with envy.

She was seeing a dark future when she hadn’t even Sally Nullens to complain to.

I was overwhelmed with pity for them suddenly. I thought how sad it must be to be old and unwanted.

“The child is going to need a governess, too,” I said. “I believe a child cannot begin to learn too early.”

“It’s true,” agreed Emily Philpots fervently, the red colour suffusing her face by now. “Children need the guiding hand even before they can walk.”

“I think it is very likely that Lady Stevens will ask you to go along with Sally to the Abbas.”

“Well, I never!” cried Sally, beginning to rock vigorously in the rocking chair which she always used. “A little baby again.”

“May I write to Lady Stevens, and tell her that you accept, Sally?” I asked. “At the same time I’ll suggest that Mistress Philpots goes with you.”

Happiness had suddenly arrived in that room. I could tell its presence by pink-tipped noses, watery eyes and the squeak of the rocking chair.

Life was unsatisfactory. The periods I looked forward to were those when I could go to Eyot Abbas. Naturally I could not go too frequently. Even going as I did aroused comment.

Harriet contrived that I should see Carlotta as much as possible; she visited us and stayed for quite a long time. Sally Nullens was already installed in the nursery and Emily Philpots was there too, fussing over the baby’s clothes and adorning all her garments with the most exquisite stitching.

Carlotta had soon become aware of her importance. As she lay in her cradle, kicking a little and smiling contentedly, she was like a monarch receiving her courtiers, and she would look with what must surely have been a certain complacency on the adoring throng who gazed down at her in rapture. Benjie was her devoted slave and worshipped with the rest. He thought it was exciting to have a little sister and he was very glad because his mother was home again. Gregory doted on her and I believed that Harriet had willed him to think the child really was his. Harriet continued to play the proud mother and Sally Nullens looked younger every day and grew more 147

and more aggressive towards the rest of us, declaring, “I’m not having my baby kept from her rest!” and trying to shoo people out. Oddly enough, almost as though she had some extra sense, she never tried to turn me out of the nursery. She said it was as pretty as a picture to see me sitting there petting the baby. Mistress Carlotta had taken a real fancy to me, she told me. “And that’s something with Mistress Imperious, I can tell you!” Then there was Emily Philpots, fussing if her clothes were not immaculate.

“They’ll ruin the child between them,” said Christabel.

Carlotta took all this adulation as her right.

My father scarcely looked at her. I wondered what he would have said if he had known she was his grandchild.

He once made a comment on her. “She’ll be another such as her mother,” he said, and that was not meant to be a compliment, for as I have said there was a definite antipathy between him and Harriet.