The Love Child

My mother noticed the difference in me on my return and I think she was a little hurt that Harriet could comfort me in a way which was beyond her powers. She was glad, though, to find me roused a little from my wretchedness. She did not understand as Harriet did. She could only see me as a child.

It was only a few days later when she came to my room with a letter she had received from Harriet.

“Harriet is going away,” she said. “Some friend of hers has offered her a palazzo hi Venice. She may be away several months.”

I lowered my eyes. I knew what was coming.

“She is very fond of you, Priscilla. She always was. She is suggesting that she take you with her.”

“Take me with her!” My voice sounded flat. It was difficult to play my part before my mother.

“Listen to what she says:

I must have mentioned the Carpori family to you. I met them years ago during my stage career. The Contessa was always a friend of mine. Now she has offered me their palazzo in Venice. I did visit it once and it is quite a pleasant spot. The fact is I think they would like me to inhabit the place while they are away.

Gregory thinks it would be a good idea. He will spend part of the time with me. It will be rather a quiet life, I fancy. Now I am going to ask a great favour of you. Could you spare me our dear Priscilla? Perhaps it is selfish of me to ask but I really do think a change is what she needs just now. She has suffered a great shock so recently and I myself was quite worried about her when she was here a short while ago. This unfortunate matter has hit her hard, I fear. I believe this jaunt might be exactly what she needs. Could you put it to her? Ask her what she feels about it. Of course, she may hate the idea in which case, please don’t press it. I should like the choice to be entirely hers… .

She stopped reading and looked at me. I stammered: “Venice! A palazzo!”

My mother was wrinkling her brows. I knew that she wanted the best for me and would be wondering whether Harriet was right and this trip would help me to recover from the blow which she realized had shaken me severely.

“For… how long?” I asked.

My mother looked back at the letter. “She doesn’t say, but I daresay it would be for several months. I doubt she would plan to go so far for a short stay. And she says Gregory will be coming back to England and she will be alone for a while. What do you think about it, Priscilla?”

I was silent for a while. I must not seem too eager.

I said slowly: “I… don’t know. It’s so …”

“Unexpected,” finished my mother. “But one can always rely on Harriet to do the unexpected.”

After a brief silence I said: “I think I should like to get away.”

She nodded. “And you are very fond of Harriet and she of you … as fond as she is able to be of anyone apart from herself.”

I had to defend her. “She has always been good to me. Gregory and Benjie adore her.”

“She has special gifts. So you really feel you would like to go?”

“Yes, I would. I should love to see Venice. I believe it’s very beautiful.”

“It is said to be.”

“Mother… what about Christabel?”

She frowned slightly. “If you were going to be away you would still have to continue with your lessons.”

“I should like to go alone,” I said.

“I will see what your father says,” she answered.

I felt my lips curl bitterly. “Oh, he will not care what I do. I dare swear he’ll be glad to be rid of me.”

“You don’t understand him, Priscilla.” “I do. I understand perfectly.”

She could see I was becoming emotional so she just shook her head, kissed me and left me.

My father agreed that I should go to Venice with Harriet. There was one stipulation.

Christabel should come with me. I remarked bitterly that he seemed more concerned for Christabel’s welfare than he was for mine.

“Nonsense,” retorted my mother. “He wants her to go for your benefit.”

I did not argue the matter. I thought how fortunate I was to have Harriet, and sometimes I would break into a cold sweat wondering what I should have done if she had not been at hand to suggest her preposterous plan. But because she was Harriet it did not seem impossible to carry it out, as it would have done if anyone else had thought of it.

It was now the end of February and Harriet wrote constantly of what she called “plans.”

I was sure she enjoyed writing these letters which she couched in innuendo-references which I could understand and no one else could. Intrigue was the breath of life to her.

We were going to leave at the end of March.

“A very appropriate time,” she wrote, meaning that the existence of my baby, conceived in mid-January, could without a great deal of subterfuge be kept secret until that time. “It will be springtime, the time of growth when the flowers and the trees begin to blossom. We shall be there through the summer, which I believe is delightful, and the sunshine more reliable than it is here.”

“I believe,” said my mother, “that you really are getting excited about this trip.”

“Venice is said to be so beautiful and I long to see it.”