Love Child

by Philippa Carr

  “Yes, I have. When I look out of my window at the Eyot and remember how I was conceived there, I think to myself, what if I should have Hessenfield’s child?”

  “Well, what conclusion did you come to, suppose that passionate relationship should bear fruit?”

  “I am a little frightened at the thought and yet at the same time …”

  “I know … elated.”

  “It would be wonderful in a way to have a child to remember him by.”

  “Children of such affairs make a good deal of pother when they make their entry into the world. You yourself made a most spectacular entry.”

  “Only because you were stage managing it.” I began to laugh faintly hysterically, I must admit, for now that I had brought that possibility which had haunted my thoughts into the daylight I was indeed disturbed.

  Harriet patted my hand suddenly. “If it should be so we shall have to consider what is to be done. Of course, it may not be so. It happened to your mother somewhat similarly. Life does not usually work out to such neat patterns. But let us be prepared, eh?”

  “Oh, Harriet,” I said, “it is good to be with you. I suppose my mother must have felt like this all those years ago.”

  She was silent with that glazed look in her eyes, again remembering the past. She must, I calculated, be quite sixty years old, but she had retained a certain youthfulness by her nature as well as artificial aids and in that moment she looked like a young girl.

  Yet it was like repeating a pattern, for I did discover that there was to be a child.

  I did not now know quite how I felt. I was dismayed, it was true, and yet I was conscious of an overwhelming excitement. I realized how dull life had been after Beau’s disappearance until my capture by the Jacobites. Then I felt that I had started to live again, and I wanted to live desperately; it was necessary to me even if it meant that I might have to endure dangers.

  I wasted no time in telling Harriet. She was excited. I understood her perfectly. She liked things to happen even if they were going to present difficulties, and the more insurmountable those difficulties seemed the more excited she became.

  It was the greatest comfort to be with her. She discussed my condition with verve. “It is different from your mother’s case. She was a young and innocent girl. To produce an illegitimate child seemed to her unthinkable. Yet there you were, my dear Carlotta, waiting to be born. We had to practice a good deal of subterfuge.”

  “I know. Venice. That magnificent palazzo and then the pretence that I was your child.”

  “It would have made a good play. But here we have a different situation. You were forced into this by that adventurer. To what children owe their lives! You might say that the one you have conceived owes his or her existence to a goblet of potent cider … But what are we going to do, Carlotta? You are a rich woman. You could defy them all if you wished. You could say: I am having this child and if you are going to criticise me for it, I shall snap my fingers at you. On the other hand, it is good for a child to have a father. Two parents are better than one, and it is not easy to flout society. I would like a father for the baby.”

  “Its father will never know of its existence.”

  “How can you be sure of that? But we waste time. Not that there is any immediate hurry, but it is well to plan ahead.”

  I started to think of my mother and my grandmother. There would be consternation in the family. My grandfather would want to kill Hessenfield, and as he was a Jacobite into the bargain—my grandfather being a stern Protestant—I had no doubt of the rage he would feel. Then there was Leigh. Although he appeared to be mild enough, he had a fierce temper. I had heard how he had once attacked Beau when he had been, as Leigh called it, too friendly with my mother. I had seen the scars on Beau’s body inflicted by Leigh. And all for a mad escapade, Beau had told me that Leigh had come to his apartment and caught him unawares, and had inflicted those wounds on him.

  So I could imagine my mother’s distress and the effect this matter would have on Leigh, and I should have to tell them of course that I had been caught up in the plot to rescue General Langdon, and they would insist that I had been raped and that the child was the result of that.

  Oh, yes, I could well imagine an outraged party from Eversleigh even attempting to go to St. Germain-en-Laye to wreak vengeance.

  I mentioned this to Harriet and she agreed.

  “There is one other possibility which has occurred to me. I wonder if it has to you.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Benjie,” she said.

  I looked at her in amazement.

  “Marry Benjie,” she said. “He would be a very nice father for the child.”

  “Your son!”

  “Well, there’s no doubt he’s that. No doubt that he’s Gregory’s either, though I had to pretend he was Toby Eversleigh’s for a long time. These contretemps occur and it is better to tackle them in the way which will bring less trouble to everyone. Listen. If you marry Benjie you can have a child—a little prematurely perhaps, but that is soon forgotten. You will have a husband, the child will have a father, and they are useful assets on most occasions.”

  “Are you suggesting that I should deceive Benjie just to … to acquire these useful assets?”

  “Not necessarily deceive him. Tell him the story of your capture, how your life was in danger and to preserve it you had to submit. That’s true, it is not?”

  “It’s not the whole truth, Harriet. We …”

  “I know what happened. You tasted excitement with Beau; you missed it and thought it was your love for him you missed. It was more than that, though, and then the dashing Hessenfield arrived and threw a little light on the subject. You’re not like your true mother, dear child, you take after me. It was a great adventure, was it not? While it lasted you were deeply involved in it. But there are other men in the world like Beaumont Granville and John Hessenfield. Benjie is not one of them. But that is all to the good. He’s the best kind to marry. He loves you truly. And there is a great deal to be said for true love. Look how I have settled down to happiness with his father.”

  “You want my fortune for Benjie, don’t you, Harriet?”

  “Of course. I’m not going to deny that it adds to your many attractions.”

  “That was what Beau said. But I couldn’t marry Benjie without telling him.”

  “I was not suggesting that you should. Benjie will love you none the less because he is going to play the saviour. That will suit him well. He’ll want to protect you. Yes, Benjie is the best answer.”

  I shook my head.

  “One can’t use people like that, Harriet. It’s not the way to live.”

  “You still have some growing up to do,” she said.

  Harriet was noted for taking matters into her own hands. She had with my mother; and she had always managed her own affairs with skill.

  She spoke to Benjie without telling me, and his reaction was to seek me out at once.

  He was tender; he was protective, all that she had known he would be.

  “My dear little Carlotta,” he said. I noticed that I had become little, although I was a tall girl, almost as tall as he was. “Harriet has told me.”

  “What has she told you?” I asked.

  “There is no need to talk of it. It makes me furious. I wish he were here. I would kill him … But there is something I can do and I’m going to do it.”

  I turned away from him but he caught my arm and said: “We’re going to be married. We’re going to be married from here, soon. Harriet and Gregory will arrange it. You know they always wanted it. You’ve been their special darling all your life. Mine too, Carlotta.”

  I said: “Listen … you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  He laughed. “Dearest Carlotta, it was no fault of yours. That black villain took advantage …”

  “It was not quite like that, Benjie.”

  He wouldn’t listen to me. He knew how it was. Harriet had told him, and,
like his father, he had been listening to what Harriet had told him for a very long time.

  I was shocked, he insisted. Who wouldn’t be? I had had a terrible experience. It was all so easy to understand and because of it I was going to have a child. That child would be his child. No one should know he was not the father. He was going to take care of me.

  He had his arms about me and I had always been comforted by Benjie. When I started to grow up I was aware of the immense power I could wield over him and I shall never forget his joy when he discovered that I was not his sister. I knew he had planned to marry me from that moment.

  It was a way out. I imagined what it would be like at Eversleigh if I had a child without a father. However independent one felt, however ready to fly in the face of convention, when it came to doing it there were complications which made it unpleasant. There would be disadvantages for the child also.

  I could of course take the path which had been taken in so many cases. Go away secretly and have the baby, get someone to take it. Oh, no, I did not want that.

  The alternative was to marry Benjie. Our marriage would surprise no one. For some time our families had been hoping for it.

  I was not deceiving Benjie. If he liked to put his own construction on what had happened—and I could see that nothing I could say would make him do otherwise—then I must be thankful that I was provided with such an easy solution to my dilemma.

  Harriet threw all her energies into making the arrangements. My mother was going to be put out because I had married from Eyot Abbass instead of from my own home in the conventional manner. But as soon as she knew that I was pregnant she would understand. She would believe that Benjie and I had forestalled our marriage vows and that the need for the wedding was urgent.

  I could imagine my grandfather’s sly smiles and my grandmother’s telling my mother that she wouldn’t be surprised if Harriet had arranged the whole thing.

  We were married in the nearby church. It was a simple ceremony and it took place exactly six weeks after my meeting with Hessenfield.

  I vowed to myself that I would be a good wife to Benjie, and I did make him very happy.

  Harriet was delighted, and commented that nothing could have pleased her so much and that all was well that ended well. It did occur to me that this was not the end, but I said nothing. I could only feel at that time an overwhelming gratitude to them all—my husband, Harriet and dear Gregory. Eyot Abbass would now be my home.

  My mother arrived the day after the wedding, for Harriet had sent a letter to her telling her of the proposed marriage.

  She was indignant. She believed that I had come over with the idea of marrying Benjie and that it was some plot concocted by Harriet to arrange the marriage for me.

  She suspected that Harriet, having played such a major part at the time of my birth, wanted to control my life and play the part of my true mother. To console her I told her at once that the reason for the hasty marriage was my pregnancy.

  She was shocked and then confused because we all knew that I was her love child. There was nothing she could say then but wish me happiness.

  “Benjie is a good man,” she said. “You must make sure you make him a good wife.”

  “I shall do my best,” I promised her.

  I could see that she was working it out according to the rules. When the child was born they would say it arrived prematurely. No one would believe it, but they would all pretend to.

  I wanted to laugh at such conventions; but when I considered how ready I had been to fall in with them, I could hardly do that.

  Shortly after my marriage Benjie and I went back to Eversleigh. Harriet came with me, so did Gregory. It was to be some sort of celebration.

  “The bride is supposed to be married, from her home,” said Harriet. “You know how your mother likes to do things according to the book … except of course on very special occasions.”

  My mother had her way and there was a feast and people were invited.

  My sister, Damaris, thought it was all so wonderful.

  “Exciting things always happen to you,” she said.

  I looked at her with a kind of affectionate scorn. Dear little Damaris, the good girl. Men like Beau and Hessenfield were not for her. She would marry some young man her parents would find for her and she would be perfectly content because it was what they wanted.

  The visit went well and predictably and I was rather glad when we were on our way back.

  When it was suggested by Harriet that we stay at the Black Boar, Benjie protested.

  “It would be unpleasant memories for Carlotta,” he said.

  “In my opinion,” said Harriet, “it would be a good idea to lay the ghost.”

  When she said that, I had a great desire to see it again, wanted to find out what my real feelings were. I loved Benjie. He was delighted to find me a passionate wife. I think he had thought that after my adventures I might have felt some reluctance. I surprised him. I was fond of Benjie; it could never be Beau or Hessenfield of course—he lacked entirely that buccaneering spirit—but he was virile and adoring and he offered me the balm I needed at this time. I promised myself that I was going to be happy. Hessenfield had laid the ghost of Beau and Benjie would lay that of Hessenfield.

  When I said I would like to go to the Black Boar that settled it and we went.

  It was strange arriving there and being greeted by the innkeeper and his wife.

  The innkeeper was full of apologies to Harriet and explained to her what she knew already, that he had been so upset to have let his floor to the party of noble gentlemen. I assured him that I quite understood and reminded him that he had most kindly, to their dismay, put me into the cupboard room.

  “I am overcome with shame to have offered you such a place,” he said.

  “You did everything you could.”

  We had the floor to ourselves. Benjie and I in the room where the General had lain. It was a strange night. I dreamed of Hessenfield, and even when I was awake I kept fancying that it was he who lay beside me, not Benjie.

  The next morning before we left, Harriet and I found ourselves alone together.

  “Well?” she said. “What do you think now?”

  I was silent and she went on: “That place they took you to must be near here.”

  “It was not very far, I suppose.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “Yes. I discovered when I found my way back to you. It is five miles from Lewes.” I remembered so clearly then how we had stood there while the horseman looked at us searchingly. I could smell the tang of the sea. I could remember how time seemed to stand still and how Hessenfield had waited on my words. And when I had declared myself for him and the horseman had ridden on, how he had turned to me and held me against him. I had rarely been as happy in my life as I was in that moment.

  “I could find it.”

  “I’d like to see it,” said Harriet.

  “We could hardly go there.”

  “I have a plan. Leave it to me.”

  The men joined us for breakfast in the inn parlour, and as we were partaking of hot bread and bacon, Harriet said: “I have a friend who lives nearby. I should so like to see her.”

  “Could you not do so?” asked Gregory, always ready to indulge her.

  “It seems odd to call after so many years without warning her. I could find her place. I visited it long ago, I remember, when she married. But I should like to look her up … and surprise her.”

  Gregory said: “Let us look in then. It is far out of our way?”

  Harriet said it would be a good idea. Then it occurred to her that perhaps it would not be fair for us all to descend upon her. Why should she and I not go alone? We could take one of the grooms with us if they were going to protest, and she knew they would.

  “Let us spend another night at the Black Boar. And Carlotta and I can go and do our little visiting. You have always said, Gregory, that you like this countryside. Now is the chance for you
to explore it.”

  Harriet had a gift for making people believe that what she suggested for them was exactly what they wanted for themselves, and the outcome was that later that morning she and I, with a groom in attendance, were riding out along that road which I had been taken on that memorable night.

  The smell of the sea was strong that morning. There was a faint breeze which ruffled the waves and set a frothy frill on them where they rose and fell on the sand.

  I saw the roof of the house and I was overcome for a moment by the power of my emotions.

  “Perhaps there’s no one there,” I said.

  “Let’s go and see.”

  We rode down the slight incline to the house.

  There was a woman in the garden.

  “Good day to you,” she said. She had a basket full of roses. She looked so much at home, and when I thought of arriving at that mysteriously empty house which at the same time showed obvious signs of recent habitation, I marvelled.

  She obviously though we had lost our way and were asking for instructions.

  “We have come from the Black Boar,” said Harriet.

  She smiled. “And you are not sure of the road. Where do you want to go?”

  I said: “Could I have a word with you?” She changed colour slightly. “You must come in,” she said.

  We tethered our horses by the mounting block and followed her into the hall which I remembered so well.

  “I will send for refreshment,” she said. “I am sure you would like to rest awhile before you continue your journey.” A servant appeared from behind the screens and she said, “Bring wine and cakes, Emily. To the winter parlour.”

  And so within ten minutes, during which we had made conversation mainly about the weather and the state of the roads, wine was brought with wine cakes. Then the door was firmly shut and she was looking at us expectantly.

  “You have brought a message for me?” she said.

  Harriet was looking at me and I said: “No, there is no message. I was wondering if you could give me some information. I am a friend of Lord Hessenfield.”

  She looked alarmed. “All is not well?” she asked.

  “I believe nothing to have gone wrong,” I said.