Love Child

by Philippa Carr

  “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 …”
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  “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.”

  “Consideri
ng 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.