The Love Child

“Not for certain. I guessed, though. Our father used to come to the Connalts sometimes and he would watch me. I was aware of that. Lady Letty took an interest, too. She used to send things for me … although they weren’t supposed to come from her. And when I came here and was treated as I was … not like a governess really and at the same time not like a member of the family … I felt certain.”

“I wish you had told me before.”

“Suppose you had betrayed me? I might have been turned away.”

I understood it all now … the bitterness, the moods of dejection. Poor Christabel!

“It’s strange,” she said. “They call us … people born as I was … the love children.

Yet love is something which we so often miss.”

Carlotta, too, I thought. My love child. Carlotta was not going to miss love. That I should make sure of.

“It is wonderful to discover a sister,” I said.

“I have been so jealous of you.”

“I know.”

“It was hateful of me.”

“No. I understand. You won’t be jealous now, though.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m not jealous of anyone now. Thomas chose me right from the first.

I shall always remember that.”

“I think he is a very good man, Christabel,” I said.

“He is,” she answered. “Oh, Priscilla, I am so happy.”

There was nothing to delay the marriage, said my father, and so it took place almost immediately. Christabel blossomed. She was clearly very happy. She was busy furnishing Grassland Manor and she often came over to see us, bustling about in a state of ecstatic domesticity. She had her still room and her flower garden and she fussed about Thomas Willerby in a manner which astonished me. She had always seemed a little cold before, never very demonstrative in her affections. I had never seen anyone change so much.

Of course, her husband was delighted with her and no one could doubt that it was the happiest of marriages.

Within a short time she came over to Eversleigh to confide in me that she was going to have a baby. It seemed all she needed to make her bliss complete.

With great pride she showed me the nursery, and Thomas purred and puffed and gazed at her as though, as Carl rather irreverently remarked, she were the Virgin Mary.

It gave me great pleasure to see their happiness and it was my turn now to feel a pang of envy. I thought how different everything would have been if Jocelyn and I had married and I had been able to make my preparations openly as Christabel did, instead of indulging in what, looking back, seemed a quite incongruous farce. Moreover I was separated from my child for long periods so I could not be very contented with my lot. I thought about consulting Harriet, asking if she could think up another plan in which I adopted Carlotta.

That December, Christabel’s child was born. Both my mother and I went to Grassland Manor and were there during the birth. We had to comfort Thomas, who was in a panic lest anything should go wrong. His devotion to Christabel was heartwarming, and I thought what a marvellous trick of fate it was to have sent us out on the ice that morning.

The birth was long and arduous. In due course though we heard the cry of a child.

The look of joy which came over Thomas’s face moved me deeply.

We sat tense, waiting. Finally the midwife emerged. “It is a boy,” she said.

There was silence. Thomas was too overjoyed to speak.

Then he said: “And my wife?”

“Very, very tired. She cannot see you… not yet.”

There was a warning in her voice and a terrible fear struck me. I looked at Thomas and saw the joy fading from his face.

My mother said: “It was a long labour. She will be all right when she has rested.”

During the few days which followed there were grave fears for Christabel’s survival.

She had developed a fever and needed the greatest care. My father sent our doctor to her and he also brought down one of the Court doctors. I was glad he did. It showed that he had some feeling for his daughter.

My mother and I were at Grassland Manor more often than at Eversleigh Court. Together we nursed her and great was our joy when at last we began to see signs of improvement.

My father had told my mother that Christabel was his daughter. She said she had guessed and wanted to do everything she could to make up for those early days at the rectory.

“She’s going to get well,” I told Thomas.

He just put his arms round me and clung to me. I was touched and surprised to think that Christabel had inspired such devotion.

As for the baby-christened Thomas-he thrived, quite unaware of the near tragedy his coming had brought with it.

The doctors said that Christabel must go very carefully and must not think of having more babies for a long time… if ever.

Christmas had passed almost unnoticed and the New Year was upon us. A wet nurse had been found for Master Thomas and he gave little trouble. He was a contented child, healthy in every way and a great delight to both his parents.