The Love Child

Gregory, always kind, said: “I’ll take you back if you like, Priscilla.”

They were all looking at me and I thought: No, if they are going to be with him, I must be there to see what happens. I could sense the situation becoming more and more dangerous.

“We will cheer you up,” said Beaumont Granville, looking at me pleadingly. “I have a very fine malmsey wine which I should like you to try. Do come. The company will be incomplete without you.”

“You will certainly not be able to refuse an invitation so graciously given,” said Harriet.

“You must not!” cried Carlotta passionately.

“Ah,” put in Beaumont Granville, “I believe she is wavering.”

“It is good of you all to be so concerned whether I come or not.”

“Then it is decided,” said Beaumont Granville. He sat down and we started to discuss the play. When the interval was over he returned to his box, but I was aware that throughout the play he was watching us.

There was some diabolical scheme working in his mind.

He shepherded us out of the theatre, through the crowds to our coach. He had sent his home and said he would share ours if we would permit it. I noticed how people made way for him; some called a greeting. He was clearly well known and many were hi awe of him. He had an air of importance which I could see had aroused Carlotta’s admiration. In fact I was beginning to realize that Carlotta’s admiration was great and that he very much enjoyed this.

His house was only a short distance from ours.

“See what near neighbours we are!” he said. “A town house is so necessary. I have an estate near Dorchester, but I confess I spend more time in London than in the country.”

“I have never been to Dorchester,” said Carlotta.

“I hope to change that one day,” he answered.

The house was furnished in a manner to be expected of one with such elegant tastes and he was clearly proud of it.

Supper was ready for us, which showed he had had no doubt of our accepting his invitation.

His servants waited on us silently and efficiently. The malmsey was indeed excellent, and so was the food, and I could see that he enjoyed playing host.

He spoke of the play and the players knowledgeably, and he and Harriet were engaged in spirited conversation.

Carlotta listened, hardly ever taking her eyes from his face. Now and then he would look at her and smile tenderly. I was stricken with horror. This was the ultimate nightmare. I could not believe it. She was giving him that kind of hero worship which young girls sometimes feel for older men.

It could not really be what I feared. He must be over thirty years older than she was. My imagination was in a fever. I was suffering from some form of hallucination.

I said: “You have a very fine establishment here, sir. Is your wife in the country?”

He turned his false smile on me. “I have no wife. No, I have never married. I have been too much of a romantic.”

“Oh, is that so? I should have thought your romantic ideals might have led you to marriage.”

“I suppose I was always looking for the perfect woman. Nothing less would suit me.”

“Then it is not to be wondered at that your search was fruitless,” put in Harriet.

“I am not disturbed that life may have passed me by.” He was looking at Carlotta now. “I think my good angel was preserving me. Do you know, it is a belief of mine that if you want something and are determined to get it, and will not allow yourself to be diverged from the main object, it comes to you in time. I am not old yet. In fact I feel fresher and more vigorous than I did in my extreme youth. No, dear ladies, I do not despair.”

“You have travelled a great deal?” I asked.

“I have seen much of the world. But having seen it I want most of all to settle down here in England … living my life between this city and Dorset. A little of the country is good now and then. It makes you appreciate how much more invigorating is life in the town.”

“Oh, I do agree,” said Carlotta. “I wish we could come to London more often.”

“Perhaps you will … now that you are becoming a young lady of fashion.”

She laughed. “Oh, do you really think I am that!”

“In the very best sense. I deplore those people who follow a fashion slavishly, particularly if it is ridiculous and does not suit them.” He had turned his admiring gaze on Carlotta.

“You are too young to remember the hideous manner in which women wore their hair in Charles’s time. How they could endure those little rows of curls on the brow I cannot understand. Creve coeurs, they called them. Heartbreakers! At least that’s what I suppose they meant. Surely there was little less designed to keep a man’s heart intact. I like to see ladies follow their own styles, as you all do so admirably, and not become slaves to the mode of the moment.”

“The lady we saw in the Mulberry Gardens … do you remember?” Carlotta was smiling at him. “She really did look ridiculous.”

“She had so many patches that they looked like a heavenly constellation,” he replied.