The Love Child

“Do you really think we can disguise my condition from everyone right to the end?”

She nodded. “I have designed some delightful gowns. They are going to be the latest fashion in Venice … because I shall wear them and that will be enough. It will be believed that they are designed to hide my pregnancy, which I shall discuss endlessly.

Do you get the idea?”

“Harriet, you are wonderful.”

“My dear child, you have seen nothing yet. This is going to be one of my most successful roles. The only sad thing is that no one will realize how successfully I am playing it. One of the ironies of life, my dear child.”

“I don’t know what I should do without you. I was thinking that as we came along.

What should I have done, Harriet?”

“There is always something. But I am glad I am here to help you.”

“You are so good.”

“Let us keep our eyes on the facts. There is little good in me. I am fond of you.

I always have been. I owe your mother something for looking after Leigh. I owe your father something for his contemptuous attitude towards me and his refusal to be friends.

So it gives me great pleasure to be closer to his daughter than he can ever be. My motives are mixed-some unworthy, as most motives are, but I think the chief is my love for you. I never had a daughter. I should have had a daughter. A daughter would have been to me what a son is to a man, what Carl is to your father. You see, I should have wanted her to be like me … made in my own image as they say. It’s the vanity of women … which almost rivals that of men. But what a lot of nonsense we are talking! We must get down to practicalities. Now, there is Christabel.”

“My father insisted that she come with me. I have to go on with lessons.”

She nodded. “He has a special interest in Christabel.” She smiled wryly. “Well, we have her here. Either she goes or she is told. Has she guessed anything?”

“She has given no indication that she has.”

Harriet was silent for a moment. Then she said: “That’s a deep one. I am unsure of her.”

“I think I understand. She had a miserable childhood. Then she hoped Edwin would marry her. It has made her a little bitter.”

“I get impatient with people who are bitter about life. If they don’t like the position they are in they should get out of it.”

“All have not your ingenuity, Harriet, to say nothing of your beauty and charm.”

“You know how to please. You are right, of course, and we should not be too hard on Christabel who lacks my ingenuity, beauty and charm.”

“It means she has to know.”

She shrugged her shoulders. Then she added: “We will wait, though, until we are in Venice and delay the telling until the last moment.”

It was a long journey but we were too excited at the prospect of seeing new countries to think very much about the exhaustion. We had crossed the Channel and made our way across France to Basle. Harriet had many friends in France, for she had lived in that country before she joined my mother at the Chateau Congreve before the Restoration.

It was true that most of her friends had been players. Some had married into rich families and we often stayed at chateaux. Sometimes we sojourned as long as two days.

Gregory accompanied us and was very kind and considerate, which was pleasant, as naturally sometimes the journey could be irksome. We had two menservants with us, too, so we had good protection should we need it.

Harriet had written to my mother after we had left England, telling her that she believed she was going to have a child. She had shown me the letter.

As you can imagine, my dear Arabella, I am uncertain about this. The mother in me rejoices. The worldly woman I am is not exactly singing the Magnificat. Gregory, dear, foolish man, is beside himself with joy. Had I been wise I should probably have cancelled my trip, but as you know full well, my dear, I am not always wise.

“There,” she said, sealing the letter. “The first step in our campaign.”

It was at a chateau close to Basle that I took Christabel into my confidence. The decision was forced on me, for I had delayed it as long as I could. I was standing by my dressing table when suddenly I faulted.

It was all over in a few minutes. She helped me to my bed and watched me anxiously, and when I opened my eyes I saw that she guessed.

“You know then?” I said.

“I have wondered for the last week or so.”

“You wondered!”

“Well, there was that night you stayed on the island.” She lifted her shoulders.

“These things happen. There were one or two signs … But, Priscilla, you should never have come here.”

“It is precisely because I am in this condition that I am here.”

“You mean Harriet…”

“Harriet planned it.”

“So she knows!”

“She was the first to know. I went to her because I did not know what else to do.”

“I would have helped.”

“How?”

“I would have thought of something.”

“Harriet made these plans and she has the money to carry them out. She has told my mother that she is pregnant. When the child is born she will take it and care for it, and I shall be with her often. It is a wonderful plan.”

“It seems rather wild.”