“I’m no heiress.”
“He likes to amuse himself with young girls. It’s only the heiresses he wants for marriage. You have no idea what wicked people there are in the world, Priscilla. You have learned a lesson tonight. Where was Christabel? Surely she was supposed to be looking after you?”
“You were doing that. She must have discreetly vanished when you took over. They will miss us at the unmasking.”
“Not they! There is too much of a crush.”
“Harriet …”
“She’ll presume I brought you here. I told her I would if it became too rowdy.”
I smiled gratefully. This was one of the occasions when I enjoyed being looked after.
“You’re very shaken,” he said. “That was more of an ordeal than you realize.”
I flushed slightly. If he knew of my condition would he be so concerned with my innocence? But that sweet and tender love with Jocelyn had been so different from what might have happened tonight.
I said: “You yourself couldn’t have emerged without a scratch.”
“That’s just about all I did get. I had him from behind and he was in the water almost immediately. That’ll cool him down a little I imagine. I’m sorry he got off so lightly.”
“We shouldn’t want trouble. He was all right. I saw him getting back into the boat.”
“Now listen to me, Priscilla. You must be very careful in this place. It’s not Eversleigh, you know. I shall speak to Harriet and Christabel. I don’t want you ever to go out without one of them.”
“I don’t.”
“You have seen tonight that it is necessary to take especial care. It’s unfortunate that I have to leave the day after tomorrow.”
“I shall remember, Leigh.”
“You must look on this as a lesson,” he went on. “If it helps you to be more careful it will have been worthwhile.”
“I was careful. From the moment I saw him I tried to escape. He frightened me so much.”
“The devil! There are many like him at Court nowadays, I’m afraid. The King is too lenient with such men. They are witty. They amuse him and he shrugs aside their rakish adventures. Anyway, Beau Granville is not going to forget easily his attempts on my little sister.”
“Leigh, I am not your sister.”
He laughed lightly and kissed me on the brow.
Again I put up my arms and placed them round his neck. He held my hands there for a moment. Then he said: “Look. There are bruises on your arm. I could kill him for these.”
“They will go.”
“I think,” he said, “that you should go to bed now. It’s late.”
“Time for little girls to be asleep?” I said mockingly.
“Exactly. It’s been a shock. You don’t realize it now. I’ll get them to send something up to you. Good night, Priscilla.”
“Good night, Leigh, and thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure to look after you now and always,” he said.
I went. My emotions were in such a turmoil that I did not trust myself to remain. One of the servants came up with some warm wine. I drank it and was soon asleep.
I awoke late next morning and so did everyone else. I did not see Harriet until the afternoon.
Leigh was making his preparations to leave and everyone seemed heavy-eyed and rather listless. I said nothing to anyone about what had happened the previous night. I could not bear to talk about it. It was a subdued household and when Harriet did appear, she told me that Leigh had been at the palazzo when she and Christabel with Gregory had come back at three o’clock in the morning.
“He had already told me that he would bring you away just after midnight.” She grimaced. “He didn’t think it suitable for little girls to be out after that hour.”
Leigh left early the next morning. He was subdued and very sorry to go. I knew he was anxious about our remaining in Venice and Harriet told me that he had tried to persuade her to go back to England.
“He thinks it unnatural to have the child here. He believes—good Englishman that he is—that none but the English are capable of delivering babies. How he imagines the rest of the world became so well populated I can’t imagine. I must confess, though, that in ordinary circumstances I should have wanted to have the child at home. But it will be rather amusing, I think, to give birth in Venice.”
She was, as she would say, working herself into the role and talked as though she would indeed bear the baby. Even when we were alone she kept this up. I had found it a little disconcerting at first but I was getting used to it.
It was after Leigh had left that we called on the Duchessa to thank her in person for the evening at the ball.
As we left the gondola and went up the steps to the veranda and into the great hall of the palazzo, my memories were such that they set me shivering. I wondered whether Harriet, Gregory or Christabel would notice the change in me.
They said nothing.
The Duchessa was full of the latest gossip. Had we heard? she wanted to know. It was most exciting. Did we know that wicked, wicked Beau Granville was in Venice? A fascinating creature … really quite irresistible, but oh, so wicked. No one was safe within a mile of him. He had a habit of scenting out the prettiest girls and he was insatiable for virgins. “They send him wild. Well, my dears, it will be interesting to discover who did it. Some husband, it is thought. Or perhaps a lover. However, our Beau is not looking quite as pretty as usual. Are you sure you haven’t heard?”
“No,” said Harriet, “we haven’t heard.”
“He has been thrashed within inches of his life! A pretty mess, they tell me. Attacked … in his own house. They have had to get doctors to him. He will not be chasing women for some time, I imagine. It is rather amusing. Of course, they are saying he has brought it on himself. And of course it is true. It was certain to happen to him sometime. I wonder what effect it will have on him. I’ll swear he will rise from his convalescence every bit the rake he was. It’ll be fun to see.”
“It will be the greatest fun,” agreed Harriet. “And, Duchessa, we are so grateful to you for giving us such an entertainment. There hasn’t been anything like it for years, they tell me, even in Venice.”
“If it was a success it was you dear people who made it so.”
“Alas,” said Harriet, “I shall be living a quieter life from now on. Necessity, my dear Duchessa. But we are not unhappy about it, are we, Gregory?”
Gregory said it was the greatest joy to them and he was going to be very stern and forbid his wife to exert herself.
“What a fierce husband you have, my dear,” said the Duchessa somewhat maliciously.
“I live in terror lest I displease him,” replied Harriet, smiling affectionately at Gregory.
Christabel was silent, but then she usually was. She murmured her thanks to the Duchessa, who showed little interest in her.
When we returned to the palazzo, Harriet came to my room.
“You know it was Leigh, don’t you?” she said.
“I … I guessed.”
“He told me what happened. He was so furious he couldn’t contain himself. He said he only gave Beau Granville a taste of what was to come at the time because his one idea was to get you to safety. He went back last night to settle the score.”
“Yes,” I said faintly.
“I’m glad he’s left. Beau Granville could be vindictive, I’m sure. Leigh says I have to take special care of you. He wanted us to leave here. I couldn’t tell him, of course, why we couldn’t. But he has given me and Gregory very special instructions. I daresay Granville will leave Venice when he’s able to. He’ll feel humiliated and he won’t like that. Leigh will be able to take care of himself, I know. But I’m glad he’s gone.”
“It’s all so horrible.”
“There’s something else. Gregory knows what happened and he’s afraid it may have done some harm to you.”
“Harm?”
“Yes, the baby and all that. He thinks that we sho
uld have you looked at. It’s all rather difficult but I do agree with him. The Duchessa has recommended a midwife … a poor woman who will be ready to serve us well for a good payment. You will be Lady Stevens during the examination. We have to change identities. Never mind. It will be a little rehearsal.”
I was thinking too much about Leigh and wondering what the result of this affair would be to worry much about the encounter with the midwife.
Harriet staged it perfectly. She had touched up my face to add a wrinkle or two and make me look older. She had assumed the character of a young girl and so good was she that she played the part to perfection. Christabel and Gregory were helpful.
I was examined by the midwife in one of the small rooms and quickly informed that all was well with me and I could expect a normal delivery in due course.
Harriet was delighted with the result—not only with the midwife’s verdict but the way in which we all played our parts.
“You can be sure,” she told the midwife, “that we shall follow your instructions and look forward to the time when you come to help Lady Stevens bring the little one into the world.”
Like many of Harriet’s dramatic announcements it resembled the last line of the act. And indeed it seemed so. Leigh had gone and Beau Granville must have recovered from the attack, for we heard a month later that he had left Venice.
“He won’t come back,” said Harriet. “I doubt he’ll ever want to see Venice again.”
I hoped that would be so.
I must settle down now to the quiet time of waiting.
The summer was beautiful. It was hot, but by nature of our mission we lived quietly. Harriet and I were often together. I developed a desire to make clothes for the baby and I did so under Christabel’s guidance. Harriet would smile at us benignly and I marvelled that she who had such a taste for gaiety should be content to shut herself away in this manner. She was playing a part, and how well she played it!
She rested in the afternoons, she walked rather slowly about the palazzo and discussed symptoms of pregnancy with Caterina, the chief of the women servants who was the mother of five children, and she deceived her completely, for if she were in any difficulty she would always pretend that it was due to her imperfect knowledge of the language.
Gregory had to return to Court and was loath to go, but she insisted. He was not necessary to the plan now that he had given his blessing to his wife’s pregnancy which, said Harriet, had strengthened the case considerably. It was arranged that he would return as soon as he was able and perhaps by that time the child would be born and we could all return to England.
“We should be back before Christmas,” said Harriet. “The child is due in mid-October, and by the beginning of December it should be old enough to travel.”
It was August when Gregory left. In two months my child would be born and I was beginning to find it difficult to hide my condition. The loose gowns we wore were a great help and I kept to my rooms and those of Harriet a good deal. I think she made a better job of being a pregnant woman than I did of attempting to deny I was one.
In a way they were happy months. I had never felt quite like this before. A serenity had settled on me. I thought almost exclusively of the child. I forgot Jocelyn and my heartbreak over his death for weeks at a time. I forgot the terror I had suffered at the Duchessa’s ball. All that seemed to fade away and there was only this life which was growing within me—making itself felt every minute of the day. I longed for my child.
I did not even think very much of what would happen after its birth. I knew it was going to be close to me for the rest of my life. I thought I had loved Jocelyn with all my heart but I loved this child beyond anyone I had ever known.
I liked to sit with Christabel and talk about the wonders of motherhood. She was wistful. Poor Christabel! She told me she would have loved to have a child.
She would one day, I told her.
She said rather bitterly: “If what happened to you had happened to me, there would have been no kind friend to help me out of my troubles.”
It was almost as though she resented the fact that Harriet had gone to such pains to help me.
But this was not really so. She was careful of me and had done a great deal to help me. She had made some exquisite garments and I should treasure them even more than those which Harriet had bought for the baby. Harriet had sent to one of the shops and asked them to call on her. She received the proprietress in her bedroom where she reclined on the bed. I was present, seated on a chair close by.
“Put the things on the bed,” commanded Harriet, “where I can see them. Oh, that is beautiful. You understand, signora, how it is. Sometimes I feel I must keep to my bed. My time will soon come.”
The saleswoman nodded sympathetically and said that Lady Stevens must take great care. When was the little one expected?
“In October. I can hardly wait.”
“The waiting is so irksome,” said the woman. “I have two of my own.”
“Is that so? Then you must know all about it. I have two boys, you know. Of course, I am not so young as I was when they were born!”
“Lady Stevens will always be young,” was the answer.
Harriet smiled, well pleased, and spent lavishly.
Did she hope for a boy or a girl? asked the saleswoman.
“You know well how it is. One hopes for a boy. One hopes for a girl. And when it comes it is always what you wanted most. Is that not so?”
It was agreed that it was.
So they chattered; and knowing exactly how I felt as an expectant mother, I could not help but congratulate Harriet on a superb performance.
So the days passed.
September came. It was still very warm. I did not go out at all now. I felt it better not to. Christabel shopped for me. She liked to go into the square and buy ribbons and the things I needed.
I did lessons now and then as my mother would have expected us to, and it seemed incongruous to me that a mother should be in such a position. I had been fifteen on my birthday in the July just past.
I urged Christabel to go out more. There was no reason why she should not. Some protégée of the Duchessa—a certain Francesca Leopardi—became friendly with her and the two went out together now and then. Francesca asked permission for her to visit the Palazzo Faliero, which Harriet immediately gave, and it became a practice of hers to go there. She even spent a night there occasionally, which I thought was good for her because she blossomed noticeably during that time. I believed it was because at last someone was interested in her for herself and not because of her association with us.
But to tell the truth I gave very little thought to her. I was absorbed by my baby; and Harriet was of course the same because she was completely wrapped up in her part.
By the beginning of October, Harriet began to have certain qualms about me. It was the first time she had faltered.
I was young, this was my first child, and she was suddenly afraid that all might not go well. So far she had succeeded in playing her part to perfection. The only tricky moment had been the examination by the midwife. Now she wanted the midwife to move into the palazzo and it would mean, when she did that, that there could be no more pretence.
Harriet talked about it a good deal. She went to see the midwife and came back elated.
“My dear Priscilla, she lives in a hovel. Yes, nothing more than a hovel. There is one way to deal with her. Money. She will have to be in the secret. It is no use my pretending that I am pregnant to her. The time has come when a good performance must be supported by factual detail. Naturally she would be well paid for coming to the palazzo and spending a week or so here when the birth becomes imminent. But if we take her into our confidence—which we shall have to do in this case—and offer what will to her be a fantastic sum of money if she keeps our secret … I am sure she will do so.”
“Do you think she can be trusted?”
“I shall mingle bribes with threats. An irresistible combina
tion, I assure you.”
“Harriet, you have been so wonderful to me.”
“Nonsense, my dear child, it has been my pleasure.”
“All these months when you have lived so quietly …”
“Enjoying every minute. My dear, I intend to see you out of this trouble. It has been an exacting role, but worth it.”
I went to her and kissed her, which pleased her. She liked demonstrations of affection.
“You are as my own child, Priscilla,” she said. “As I have said, I always wanted a daughter. And you are like my own. I was so involved with the Eversleighs. I was one myself once. So no more talk of gratitude and who owes this one what. As I’ve told you, I owe a big debt to your mother and I find it very gratifying to discharge my debts. Now let us be practical. Yes, I shall send for the midwife and have a little talk with her. You shall be present.”
She did so without delay. “For,” as she said, “I shall not feel happy until the woman is here. I want her to be on hand the moment she is needed.”
The midwife was rotund and pale faced, with lively black eyes, a patched gown and a cloak which showed signs of past grandeur and must have been presented by a client some years before. Her name was Maria Caldori and she was the mother of five children, which, said Harriet, was a good point, as it was always well to have firsthand knowledge of a subject.
Harriet brought her up to my bedroom and closed the door firmly.
“Now,” she said, “I have something of great importance to say to you. If you were paid well to keep a secret would you be prepared to do so?”
The woman looked startled. A faint tinge of colour had crept into her cheeks. Harriet mentioned a sum of money which made her blink. I had a notion that she had never heard of such a sum in the whole of her life.
“You would do a great deal for so much, I don’t doubt, signora.”
“I would do nothing which could set the law on me,” said the woman, visibly trembling.
“This is nothing to do with the law and all you will be asked to do is say nothing. It is your silence which can put this money in your pocket.”
“What is this, my lady? Please tell me what it is.”
Lament for a Lost Lover Page 53