Love Child

by Philippa Carr

  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.

  Murder at Enderby

  ALL THE WAY BACK Carlotta was silent, brooding. When I spoke to her she answered in monosyllables. I felt she was blaming me for ruining her happiness.

  Harriet was waiting for us when we reached Eversleigh. Carlotta ran to her and th
rew herself into her arms. I felt waves of jealousy sweep over me. Carlotta was telling me that she believed Harriet was her friend. Harriet would never have been so cruel to her.

  I longed to tell her how much I loved her, how I wanted above everything to save her from this man who had proved his cruelty to me and had brazenly admitted that it was her fortune he wanted. How could I make her see? Only by telling her of that fearful night which had cast its shadow over my life.

  No man of honour would have behaved as he did. Had it not been for her money he would have been content with seduction; but he wanted to get his hands on her inheritance and marriage was necessary for that.

  My poor, innocent, deluded Carlotta, who thought she knew so much and understood so little.

  She avoided me. I was heartbroken. I could neither eat nor sleep.

  My mother was growing anxious. “My dear Priscilla,” she said, “you must not take this to heart. The young will indulge in these escapades. Of course he is not the man for her. But she will be over it in a few weeks. That’s how girls are.”

  My nightmares returned. I could not get him out of my mind.

  “I wish Leigh were here,” said my mother. “He would be able to comfort you. I have never liked these long absences of his. It’s not the way to make a happy marriage.”

  “He is making plans to leave the army. We have talked a good deal about taking the Dower House and getting some land.”

  “It’s a wonderful idea. I’ve asked your father to write to him and tell him he must leave the army as soon as it can be arranged.”

  “He will, I know, as soon as his term comes to an end.”

  “And now you must stop fretting about this affair. Your father says the man is something of an adventurer and has been involved in one or two scandals.”

  “I am sure he is right. Certainly he is not the man for Carlotta.”

  “I understand your feelings. It was so wrong of him to persuade her to elope.”

  “She is so headstrong. I am afraid for her.”

  “Well, you brought her back. She’ll understand that she will have to wait awhile. Waiting is often so good in this sort of case. When you are young, ardour fades quickly.”