The Love Child

I had to pass too close to him in the narrow space so I saw his face clearly. His eyes looked straight into mine and there was in them a suggestion of admiration which was too bold to be called complimentary. It even held a trace of insolence.

I was very glad to get into the street. I said to Christabel: “I should like to go back to the palazzo.”

“So soon?” she replied. “I thought you wanted to do some more shopping?”

“I feel a little tired. I would rather go straight home.”

We went to the gondola.

“Back to the palazzo?” asked our gondolier in surprise.

“Yes, please,” I answered.

As we moved along the canal, I saw the man who had come into the shop. He was standing still, watching us.

Perhaps I should have forgotten him within a few days, for there were a number of bold young men ready to ogle unattended females. My mother, of course, would not have allowed Christabel and me to go out alone, even though we were together. Venice was said to be a city of romance and adventure but I sometimes thought there was a sinister ambience about those little alleys and byways. Life could be violent even in the quiet villages of England. But here I had a feeling that disaster could spring out unexpectedly.

It was early evening just after dusk. I had rested in the afternoon. Harriet had insisted. She said I must remember what lay ahead of me. We did not want complications.

It was necessary to the plot that everything run smoothly. I had succumbed to her persuasion, and I would lie in my bed reading or thinking of my child and wondering what the years ahead held in store for me.

I had risen and changed into a long loose gown which I had bought in the square the day before. It was part of Harriet’s scheme to introduce loose-fitting garments into our wardrobes, and to do so before they were necessary, she said.

I was brushing my hair, and with the brush in my hand, I had the impulse to step onto the veranda. Sunset was beautiful over Venice. I never failed to watch and delight in it. And as I stepped out, I saw him … the man who had been outside the shop.

He was in a gondola which was not moving along the canal. It was motionless immediately below the palazzo, and he was looking up at the veranda.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was almost as though he had willed me to come out and see him.

He made no sign. Indeed I did not wait for him to do so. As soon as I realized who he was, I stepped back into my room. My heart was beating absurdly fast. He knew where I was staying! I went on brushing my hair. What was I afraid of? I was not sure. But I certainly was afraid.

Harriet was excited. We had received an invitation to a masked ball at the Palazzo Faliero. The Duchessa herself had called on Harriet, and like everyone else had been enchanted by her. She and Gregory must attend the ball and bring with her the two girls whom she was chaperoning. Harriet had accepted on our behalf without consulting us.

“I have told the Duchessa of my interesting condition and it amused her very much,”

Harriet told us. “She has recommended the best of midwives. One who brought her own offspring into the world. I shall investigate the woman thoroughly, for I have yet to work out the last act of your play, which will of course be the most hazardous.

However, later for that.”

“Harriet,” I said, “sometimes I think it would have been better if we had gone to some quieter place. Wouldn’t it have been easier to have done it that way?”

“Nonsense,” she retorted. “The best way to keep a secret is to make no apparent effort to hide it. Had we gone to some remote place, we should have immediately become the focus of attention. And people in little quiet places have nothing or little with which to occupy themselves. Therefore they display a great interest in others around them. The simplest yokel becomes a shrewd detective. Here, my dear, everyone is concerned with his or her own affairs. The Duchessa is mildly amused by my pregnancy today.

She will have forgotten it tomorrow because she will be thinking exclusively of her new lover. I have heard that there is a succession of them. You may trust me to do what is best.”

“I do. I should never have questioned it.”

She kissed me. “Now, my darling, what are we going to wear for the ball? I think it would be a good idea to introduce a new fashion. Loose Grecian robes. It may well be that the French are still wearing tight-peaked bodices and tiny waists. But we shall return to the Grecian styles which are so much more becoming and so all concealing.

We shall choose our materials with the greatest care because hi these styles material will be everything. I shall be in deep blue silk the colour of peacocks’ feathers.