The Love Child (29 page)

He was, as he had said, in some ways a man of refined tastes. His scented linen, his well-washed body bore this out. At least I did not have to endure an unwashed lecher. I felt bruised bodily and mentally, and all the time I was telling myself that it must soon pass.

When I saw the first streak of dawn in the sky, I knew my ordeal was coming to an end.

He made no attempt to stop my leaving. I wrapped myself in the cloak and pulled the bell rope. The woman whom I had seen when I arrived came into the room. She looked different without her false pieces of hair and her patches. But she was clean. I was sure that everyone near him must be that.

She took me without a word to the room where I had bathed. There were my clothes.

I dressed and she led me out. The carriage was waiting and I was taken back to the inn.

I went straight to my mother’s room and with great relief saw that she was still sleeping. I prayed to God that she had not missed me during the night.

I took off my outdoor clothes and sat down. I shut my eyes. Images from the previous night kept crowding into my mind.

My father will come today, I told myself, and then it will all have been worthwhile.

Yes, it would. What was a night’s humiliation compared with a life, and my father’s life at that!

I thought about him. He was another strange man, a man who had known many women before he married my mother. I believed he had been faithful to her. Christabel was his daughter. He had admitted that. Perhaps he had other children here and there.

Thinking of my father stopped those images. I saw him instead of the handsome, lascivious face of Beaumont Granville which I was sure would haunt me for the rest of my life.

I thought then: I love my father. I love him dearly … perhaps more than I do my mother. Always I had wanted to impress him, to have him take notice of me, to look for me when he came home after

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an absence. He never had. He never would. I was only the daughter and sons were important to a man such as he was.

Then suddenly I was elated because when he came through the door I could say to myself: I saved you. I brought you home. The daughter you have never thought of much account was the one who saved your life.

I did not care at that moment what I had done. I was glad of it. I had suffered humiliation for his sake and I would do it again.

My mother stirred uneasily during the morning. I sat beside her with a sickening fear in my heart.

Would Granville keep his word? Why should I trust such a man? Was he laughing now because he had deceived me as he had been deceived about me in Venice?

He had sworn that he paid his debts and I still believed he would pay this one. I must believe. But as the morning wore on terrible doubts came to me.

I thought fiercely, If he has failed me, I will kill him.

It was early in the afternoon when my father walked in.

He was dirty and unkempt. He smelt of the prison. There was death in that smell.

He was pale and had lost a great deal of weight. But he was there. He was safe.

“Oh, Father!” I cried. “So you are back!”

He nodded. “Your mother…”

I looked towards the bed and he was kneeling there. She opened her eyes. I shall never forget the smile on her face. She was young and beautiful again and they were in each other’s arms.

I stood watching them, but they were unaware of me.

186Carlotta’s Cupboard

My mother’s recovery was rapid. The doctor had seen right when he had said that all she needed was to see my father safe and well.

We made hasty preparations to leave, for she said that she should not feel safe until we were back in Eversleigh. There was a determined look about her mouth. I could see that she had made up her mind that there would be no more dabbling in rebellions.

We had King James the Second on the throne; he was a Catholic, and my father, in common with a great many English men and women, did not want a Catholic King; but my mother’s theory was that he was there and there he must stay and we must put up with him. We were running no more risks.

I think seeing her so ill and anxious had affected my father deeply. During the days which followed they would not allow one to be out of the other’s sight. It was moving, and in spite of my bruised and humiliated body, I felt exultant because but for me it would have been a very different story.

We took the first coach back and went by stages. My father thought it best to travel as simply as possible in case there had been a mistake.

When we were back in Eversleigh they talked more freely.

“I cannot think who my benefactor was,” said my father. “It hap-187I

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pened so suddenly. I was taken to a room where I spent the night alone. It was a relief. The conditions were appalling. I shall never get that stench out of my nostrils.

Just to be taken away from it was a blessing. And the next day I was free.”

He was convinced that my mother had paid a heavy bribe to someone. She assured him that she had not. Indeed when we had arrived in Dorchester she had been in a fever and had not even known where she was.

“It must have been someone,” said my father. “I wonder who. I shall discover. I certainly have a very good friend somewhere.”

“Someone for whom you once did a service,” suggested my mother.

“I should remember. But I can think of no one. It would have needed a great deal, I am sure. Jeffreys-the devil-is becoming rich through the assizes.”

Neither of them noticed me, and it occurred to me that after the experience of that night there must be a change in me. I felt I should never be the same again. It had been utter degradation, complete submission to a man who mingled his sexual desires with a passion for revenge. I would never forget his gloating laughter, and I had known that he was thinking of Leigh and his own humiliation in being severely thrashed.

How that must have offended what he called his refined tastes! What lotions he would have needed to heal his wounds! But what had affected him most deeply was the humiliation.

I guessed he had soothed that a little after what he had done to me.

And yet, to witness the love of my parents and their joy in finding themselves together again filled me with exultation because but for me their lives would lie in ruins.

I had saved my father’s life, and my mother from a living death, so I could not regret what had happened.

My mother insisted that we celebrate my father’s return. Harriet must come over with the child.

“I know how you love to see them,” said my mother. “My dear Priscilla, this has been a great ordeal for you, too.”

“But he is safe now,” I said.

“My dearest child, I want to go down on my knees and thank whoever did this for us.

It is such a mystery. But I think we shall know one day.”

“I am sure it will be reward enough for this … benefactor to see your happiness.”

“Your father and I are like one person,” she confided. “If one was 188

lost to the other there would be little in life left for the one who remained.”

I felt too emotional to speak.

“And you, dear,” she went on, “we are forgetting you. It has been such a terrible time for us both. You looked after me so well. It was such a comfort to have you with me.”

I thought to myself: If you only knew! But I could never tell them. I wondered, though, what their reaction would be if I did. There was no one to whom I could talk of what had happened. Not Harriet … not Christabel… no one. My great desire was to wipe it from my memory. I should never do that completely. Every time I smelt that hideous musk smell I would remember him … his eyes gleaming as he talked of the deer.

How different from that night of tender love which I had spent with Jocelyn. That had produced Carlotta. The fear hit suddenly. What if there was a child born of that night of horror! What should I do then?

It could not be. That would be too much. I had paid for my father’s life. Surely I had paid in full.

At times I would wander out into the garden. I would go to the bed of red roses and think of when I had first met Jocelyn and I would say to myself: If it should be so, what can I do?

I was, however, spared that.

There would be no child of that shameful night.

Now, I said to myself, I must try to forget.

There was not, after all, to be a great show of rejoicing on my father’s return.

“From now on,” said my mother, “we must live quietly.”

There would be no journeys to and from Court. We were out of favour there. We must not remind anyone that we had favoured Monmouth’s cause. We had a new King on the throne, and if we did not like him, we must make the best of him.

My father was restive. It was his nature to be, and I was sure that if it were not for worrying my mother, he would have been involved in some plot or other. They were uneasy days which followed the death of easygoing Charles. Charles had been so popular since the days of his restoration but James had not the gift of winning people to his side.

“It is no concern of ours,” said my mother firmly, and as she showed signs of becoming ill every tune she saw the lust for adven-189

ture in my father’s eyes, he would regretfully tarn away from whatever he was planning.

He loved her dearly. There was no doubt of that.

So his return was not a matter for an open celebration. We did entertain friends.

Harriet came over with Gregory, Benjie and Carlotta and they stayed for several weeks.

I could forget my experiences in the company of my daughter. She was now nearly four years old and she was going to be a beauty; her blue eyes were growing more and more like Jocelyn’s; they had not that deep violet shade which was Harriet’s great beauty; they were clear, like cornflowers; her dark hair was a lovely contrast, and her short, pert nose was adorable. Her skin was like flower petals and she was enchanting. But her chief attraction was her vitality. She was so lively that Sally Nullens said that it was one body’s work just to keep pace with her. Emily Philpots saw that she was always exquisitely dressed and had already started teaching her to read, which she quickly learned. Emily said she had never known a child to learn so quickly.

To those two women Carlotta was the centre of life.

And being a child with a quick and shrewd mind, Carlotta had rapidly become aware of her importance. She could be imperious, and then she would be very loving; she could stamp and kick when forced to obey, and at the same time she could burst into tears if she saw anyone or -thing in distress. She was a child of moods, which could change so quickly that it was hard to keep pace with them and assess her nature.

Benjie loved her and was teaching her to ride. Gregory accepted her as though she were truly his daughter, and had recently bought her a beautiful little pony which he considered safe for her to ride. Harriet treated her with a sort of mild tolerance; she never went out of her way to make a fuss of her as the others did, but I believe that Carlotta loved Harriet best of all. From the others she accepted hornage as her right, but there were tunes when I noticed her trying to please Harriet.

When they arrived I went down to the courtyard to greet them. My eyes went at once to my daughter-so beautiful in her red cloak, the colour of her cheeks, her blue eyes sparkling and her dark curls in disorder as she pulled off her hood. She flung herself at me and hugged me. I felt so emotional that I feared I should not be able to hold back my tears. She always had this effect on me.

It was almost as though she knew of this special relationship between us. She put her hand into mine as we went into the house.

My mother greeted them warmly, my father less so. He was always 190

slightly hostile towards Harriet. I saw the corners of her mouth turn up with amusement.

She resented him as one of the few men who had refused to be overwhelmed by her charm.

“This is a happy day,” said Harriet. “We were all so anxious.”

“We don’t speak of it,” my mother told her. “It is over now and best forgotten.”

“You are back home, Carleton,” added Harriet, “and here you must stay.”

Benjie told my father how far he could shoot his arrows now and he wondered whether we should be practising archery on the lawns. He was sure he could beat Carl. Carl immediately challenged him and they went off chattering.

“Are you going to have Carlotta in your room this time, Priscilla?” Harriet asked me. “She likes that, don’t you, Carlotta?”

Carlotta looked at me and nodded.

“It would be a help,” said my mother. “That small bed could easily be put up.”

“I’ve already had it done,” I assured her.

Carlotta ran over to me and gripped my skirt. She smiled at me as though there were secrets between us. I felt overwhelmed by happiness. How I loved this child!

My father said: “I should have thought she was old enough to sleep in the nursery.

I am sure Sally thinks so, too.”

Carlotta scowled at him and said: “I don’t like you.”

My father guffawed. “What shall I do about that?” he asked. “Go out and jump in the sea?”

“Yes,” cried Carlotta excitedly. “Yes, yes. You go and jump in the sea. Then you’ll be drownded.”

Harriet burst out laughing and my mother said, “Now that is no way to talk to your Uncle Carleton.”

“It’s my way to talk,” retorted Carlotta defiantly. She put out her tongue at my father.

I feared he would order her to be whipped, but I saw that he was trying hard to control his laughter. Even he, who had no great love for children, and especially female ones, could not but be charmed by my daughter. “That child is spoiled,” said my mother.

“She should be restrained.”

“She’s all right,” replied Harriet. “She says what she means. She has not yet learned to dissemble.”

I was terrified that my mother might suggest some punishment. I would not allow that.

I picked up Carlotta, who put her arms about my neck. “What’s restrained?” she whispered.

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I said: “I’ll tell you later.”

“You won’t let that man and her, will you… ?”