Stone's Fall

That, in truth, was the greatest sadness of our lives together; we were so close. Elizabeth was transformed by joy when she told me she was to have a baby, and tasted true, uncomplicated happiness for the first time. But it was snatched away in the most horrible fashion imaginable. The child was a monster. I can say it now, although for years I banished all thought of him. He had to die; would have anyway. She never saw it, never knew what had really happened, but the sorrow was overwhelming for her. We buried him, and mourned – for him and for what might have been. It was not her fault; of course it wasn't. But she took it on herself, thought that her life had somehow been responsible, that the degradation she had known had suffused her being to such an extent that even the product of her body was corrupted. I thought for a while she might never recover, worried she might go back to those terrible drugs that she had once used so readily when strain and nervousness overtook her. Her life had been hard and dangerous; the syringe of liquid made her forget just enough to keep going.

She came through, of course; she is so very brave. But there were no more children. The doctors said another pregnancy might kill her. I think she would have embraced such a death gladly. She is more precious than all the heirs, all the children in the world. Let everything turn to dust, blow away on the winds! But let me have her by my side until the end. If she left me, I would die myself.

'I do hope you enjoyed my little evening,' the Marchesa said when all was, at last, over.

'It was charming, madam,' I replied. 'Most interesting.'

She laughed, the first light-hearted sound to have filled the room all evening. 'It was terrible, you mean,' she said. 'You English are so polite you are ridiculous.'

I smiled in an uncertain fashion.

'Yet you behaved yourself, and made a good impression. I thank you for that. You have solidified the reputation of your country as a place of seriousness and dignity, by sitting and saying nothing for such a long time. You may even receive an invitation to some evenings from one or two of my guests.'

She noticed the look of dismay which passed over my face.

'Don't worry; on that they are easy enough. They will be quite happy if you do not go.'

She stood up and let her dress fall about her. I got up as well.

'And now,' she said, 'we may begin on the more interesting part of the evening.'

My spirits lifted at the very idea.

'We will eat first of all, and then . . .'

'Then what?'

'Ah, for that you must wait and see. But there will be people you know, so you will not be lonely. Have you encountered Mrs Cort, for example?'

I trust that I did not give myself away, but in some ways she was excessively perceptive. I said I had met Mrs Cort.

'Poor woman.'

'Why do you say that?'

'It is not hard to see that she is unhappy,' she said softly. 'We have become friends, in a fashion, and she has told me much of her life. The cruel way she was treated by employers in England, the failings of her husband . . .' She put a painted nail to a painted lip to indicate the need for discretion. 'She is drawn to the Beyond.'

I could have said that, in my experience, her interest in more earthly matters was rather more notable, and that I had no need to be told about discretion, but said nothing.

'But then, this life has little to offer her,' she continued.

'She has a husband and a child.'

She shook her head in a melodramatic fashion. 'If you knew what I know . . .' she said. 'But I must not gossip. Let us go in and welcome the guests.'

She allowed me to take her arm, and we finally left the cold, draughty salon. I did feel slightly aggrieved that what I had taken to be Louise's confidences to me she had also divulged to the Marchesa, but accepted that desperation does make women tell each other secrets. I put it out of my mind, and felt my mood improving with every step towards the dining room; merely moving began to unfreeze my flesh, although feeling her so close was a little uncomfortable. She wore her usual overpowering perfume and pressed herself against my arm in a manner which was perhaps more intimate than her age made respectable.