The Love Child

It was disconcerting to discover that this was no rustic conspiracy contrived by a mere maltster in a country farmhouse. It was revealed that quite a number of rich and influential members of the nobility were concerned in it. Lord Howard of Escrick and William Lord Russell were two of them. Heads began to fall and I could see that my mother was growing more and more apprehensive.

It was not long before the name of Monmouth was beginning to be mentioned.

The King was taking his usual diffident attitude towards the whole affair. My father said that Charles was more interested in intrigues with his mistresses than attempts on his life. His attitude was: It has failed, so why be concerned about it? He was a man who disliked conflict and wanted to live in peace. He enjoyed witty conversation and the company of beautiful women far more than bringing his enemies to justice.

“He is a man,” said my father, “who regards death without concern. His idea of heaven would be a Whitehall where there were no plots or tiresome issues. It should be all pleasure which he finds in the women who surround him.”

“Yet they say he can be wily enough in his dealings with France.”

“Ah,” said my father, “he leads the French King where he will, and what is amusing, he also leads him to believe that the leading strings are in French hands. Quite a feat, really. Charles is shrewd, Charles is clever, but above all he is lazy and can never really give quite the same concentration to anything as he gives to the seduction of women. If only he would make up his mind and legitimatize Monmouth.

It seems the sensible thing to do.”

“And now what?” asked my mother. “Monmouth is involved in this …”

“Jemmy would never agree to kill his father. That I know.”

“How will he prove it?”

Monmouth did convince his father that although he had known of the plot he would never have agreed to the killing of his father. Whether the King believed him or not no one was certain. Whether Monmouth would be prepared to commit parricide for the sake of the throne no one was certain either. What was certain was that Charles could not bring himself to execute his own son-traitor though he might be.

The King could not of course ignore what had happened, and as a result Monmouth was banished from Court. When we heard that he had gone to Holland my mother was intensely relieved. My father laughed at her. She was like an old hen, he said, clucking round her family.

But they were close, those two, and I liked to see them thus.

Two people who lived near us were involved in the plot. They had visited us now and then in the past, being near neighbours. It was a shock, therefore, to hear that they had been arrested.

There was John Enderby, who had lived in a rather fine house called Enderby Hall with his wife and son, and even closer to us there was Gervaise Hilton of Grassland Manor.

There was a great deal of talk about it. The properties would be confiscated and doubtless sold to other families. I wanted to call on them but my mother forbade it.

“It might be said that your father sent you. We have to keep outside all this.”

I obeyed her, but I wondered about the families.

They disappeared, and the houses stood there looking more and more desolate as the months passed.

Time had indeed passed, Carlotta was now over a year old-a very definite personality and growing prettier every day. Those startlingly blue eyes-not quite as dark as Harriet’s-attracted everyone’s attention, and I was amazed that people could say how like her mother she was growing. Harriet was very amused by this.

“Trust Carlotta to play her part,” she commented. “That child will be an actress, mark my words.”

I think Harriet’s interest in the baby had waned a little. One could not expect her to become completely absorbed in a child-particularly someone else’s. Moreover, Sally Nullens mounted guard over the nursery like some fabulous dragon breathing fire on anyone who dared approach her baby. I did not mind this, for I knew that Carlotta would be tended with the utmost care. Any little ailment would be detected at once and dealt with. Sally had become a different woman from that disgruntled, ageing female who had crouched over her singing kettle and rocked herself angrily before her fire. Life had meaning for her now. It was the same with Emily Philpots. Carlotta was not just an ordinary child. She was a saviour. They doted on her, but I knew that Sally would not allow any spoiling which, good nurse that she was, she knew was bad for the child. She had her rules, which must be obeyed, and at the same time nothing was spared in the devotion she bore the child.

Carlotta could not be in better hands and I should have been satisfied, but how I longed to have her for myself!

That Christmas, Harriet and Gregory came to us at Eversleigh, so I had the baby under the same roof, which was wonderful. Harriet did warn me that I must not behave as though there was nothing in life but Carlotta.