The Love Child

She did so without delay. “For,” as she said, “I shall not feel happy until the woman is here. I want her to be on hand the moment she is needed.”

The midwife was rotund and pale faced, with lively black eyes, a patched gown and a cloak which showed signs of past grandeur and must have been presented by a client some years before. Her name was Maria Caldori and she was the mother of five children, which, said Harriet, was a good point, as it was always well to have firsthand knowledge of a subject.

Harriet brought her up to my bedroom and closed the door firmly.

“Now,” she said, “I have something of great importance to say to you. If you were paid well to keep a secret would you be prepared to do so?”

The woman looked startled. A faint tinge of colour had crept into her cheeks. Harriet mentioned a sum of money which made her blink. I had a notion that she had never heard of such a sum in the whole of her life.

“You would do a great deal for so much, I don’t doubt, signora.”

“I would do nothing which could set the law on me,” said the woman, visibly trembling.

“This is nothing to do with the law and all you will be asked to do is say nothing. It is your silence which can put this money in your pocket.”

“What is this, my lady? Please tell me what it is.”

“First I want your promise to be silent. There is nothing wrong in what you are asked to do. In fact it can only be good. All you need to do is say nothing. No one will ask you questions.”

“It is about the … baby, my lady?”

“You shall have half the money now,” said Harriet, ignoring the question, “and half when the matter is over. But first I must have your word on the name of God and the Holy Virgin that you will in no circumstances tell of what you learn in this house.”

“My lady, I swear. In my profession there are sometimes secrets. I have always been discreet.”

“You will need to be discreet now. You may think that when the money has been paid and we have gone, you are free to speak of what you know. If you do so, you will have broken your word and you will be punished. Do you know what happened to an English gentleman not so long ago? Have you ever heard the name of Granville?”

The woman was trembling a little. I saw the sweat on her forehead.

“I heard, my lady. He was very bad … because of what happened to him.”

“It could happen to you, signora, if you betrayed a trust. It will not, I know. You are too wise. You are going to take the money, which is more, I vow, than you earned in the whole of your life before bringing babies into the world and now and then waiting on the nobility. What is it to be?”

The woman lifted the cross which she wore about her neck and swore on it. Nothing on earth should drag the secret from her.

It was dramatic, another of Harriet’s scenes, and naturally she played it to perfection.

“I trust you,” she said. “And now you will find the matter very simple. When you came here before you did not examine me but this young lady. She is the one who is to have the child. For certain reasons we do not wish it to be known that the child is hers. All you have to do is attend her, make sure she has the best of care, bring a healthy child into the world with as little inconvenience to the mother as possible and hold your tongue.”

Relief spread across the midwife’s face.

“My lady,” she said, “it is nothing… it is little…”

Then she stopped, obviously afraid that if she made it sound too easy the fee might be lowered.

She went on: “Your secret is safe with me. There are many such in my work. I shall say nothing. I shall let it be believed that the child is yours, my lady. Oh, my lady … and signora …” She looked at me apologetically. “It often happens there are certain secrets.”

“I am sure that in your profession it is one secret after another, but remember how well you are being paid to keep this one and remember too that Venice will not be a very healthy place for you if you fail to keep it. Now you are free to look after your patient.”

Harriet left me alone with Maria Caldori, who asked me a great many questions, examined me and declared herself delighted with my condition.

“Two weeks perhaps,” she said. “It may be sooner. Babies like to choose their own time.”

Harriet had arranged that I should sleep in her room and had had a small bed brought in. The fact was that she occupied this and made me sleep hi the large one hi which the child was to be born.

Maria Caldori occupied a room close by and was in constant attendance. I think she enjoyed her part in the conspiracy and whenever we had visitors I would leave her and Harriet together and Harriet said she did her part very well. “Mind you,” she pointed out, “I carried her along. But I must say she played with a certain conviction.”

Christabel was very land and eager that I should not be put to any strain. I had never seen her so contented as she was at that time. She was out a good deal with Francesca and again and again I was struck by the change hi her.