The Love Child

He laughed. “I’m sure it was. Now a word in your ear. If you attempt any more of these follies don’t rely on me to get you out of them.”

“I’m surprised that you bothered.”

“It was necessary to save us all.”

I turned away and ran into the house. I shut myself in my room. I had never felt so unhappy in all my life. If only he had given me one word of tenderness. If only he had been concerned for me! But he had made me feel that had I alone been involved he would not have taken the trouble to save me.

He had looked at me with a certain contempt and I wondered why a man such as he who was fond of women-some said too fond should find nothing to care about in his own daughter. I wondered what he would say if he knew the extent to which I had been involved with Jocelyn. He would be horrified, I was sure. Yet according to what I had gathered he had had adventures at a very early age. What was natural for him and those who shared his pleasures was shocking in his daughter. This was strange, for he was a logical man in other matters.

A few days passed, and when the possibility that I might be going to have a child came to me I was jerked out of my misery momentarily. I had not thought of this.

I had been so wrapped up in my grief. Now I was faced with a problem. If it were to be so, what should I do?

I could not marry because the father of my child was dead. I did not want to tell my mother. I could not bear to think what my father’s reaction would be. If Leigh or Edwin were here I might confide in them. They would help me, both of them. But they were far away and I did not even know where.

My emotions were in turmoil. I did not know whether I was glad or not that this had happened. I was filled at one moment with the wonder of it and the next with a fearful foreboding.

A child-the result of that night we had spent on the mist-shrouded island! Our wedding night, Jocelyn had called it. And our marriage was to have taken place as soon as we returned to the mainland.

Oddly enough a change had settled on me. I was more serene, which seemed strange in view of the enormity of the problem which was arising before me. It was almost as though Jocelyn were speaking to me from beyond the grave in which they had laid his poor mutilated body.

Then I was certain. It was to be.

I tried to work out what I must do. I needed help, but I did not want my mother to know. As to my father-I shivered at the thought. I could not talk to Christabel.

Since our return I had avoided her. I kept wondering why she had not told me that it would be dangerous to go to the island and I could not completely convince myself that she had forgotten. She had played a big part in the tragedy and I felt unsure of everyone, including myself.

There was, of course, Harriet. I wrote to her, carefully disguising what was wrong but wondering whether a woman of her worldliness might guess. I had to see her, I said. I wanted to talk to her, as I could not talk to anyone else. Would she invite me please?

Her response was immediate.

My mother came to my room holding a letter in her hand. “It’s from Harriet,” she said. “She wants you to go over for a visit. She thinks it would be good for you.

Would you like to go?”

“Oh, yes,” I said fervently.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea.”

“I should like to get away for a while.”

She looked at me sadly, and I went on angrily: “I think my father would be delighted not to have to see me.”

“Oh, Priscilla, you must not say that.”

“But it’s true.”

“It is not true.”

“It is. Why do we have to pretend? He has never wanted me. I was of the wrong sex.

He wanted a boy who would be just like him— self. I am expected to go through my life apologizing for not being a boy.”

“You are overwrought, my dearest.”

“Yes, I should like to go away,” I said firmly.

I could see how hurt she was and I was sorry.

She put her arm about me and I was stiff and unyielding. She sighed and said: “Christabel should go with you.”

I did not protest although I would rather have gone alone.

At Eyot Abbas, Harriet greeted me warmly.

“I was afraid you would not want to come here again,” she said. “I feared it might bring it all back too clearly.”

“I had to come,” I told her. “And I want to remember… I want to remember every minute.”

“Of course you do.”

Harriet greeted Christabel with warmth but I did not think she greatly liked her.

Harriet was a superb actress though, and one could never be sure.

I knew it would not be long before we were alone together and Harriet soon contrived that. I had been in my room only five minutes when she arrived. She had given Christabel a room on the next floor and I guessed there had been a purpose in this. Harriet anticipated many an uninterrupted talk.

She came in conspiratorially, her lovely eyes alight with speculation.

“Tell me, my dear, just tell me.”

“I am going to have a child,” I said.

“Yes. I thought that was it. Well, Priscilla, we must see what can be done. There are people who can be of assistance.”