The Love Child

I was grateful for his sympathy. I asked myself what I should do. How could I set about this delicate task? To whom did I offer my bribe? I must not run into trouble, for there was my mother to care for.

I was in a state of great anxiety.

When the doctor had left I went down to the inn parlour. I wondered if I could speak to the innkeeper. There might be someone here … someone from the army, perhaps, who could help me. Edwin and Leigh were in the army. It was ironical to think that they might have been fighting against my father had they been hi England.

We had at least been saved that.

My grandfather, my mother’s father, now dead, had been General Tolworthy; the Eversleighs were connected with the army, too. Yes, I decided there must be some high-ranking soldier in this town who would be ready to help me.

I came into the inn parlour. A man was sitting there. He was in uniform, so he was a soldier and a high-ranking one. My heart beat fast. My prayers might be about to be answered.

I said, “Good day.”

He turned. I was looking into the face of Beaumont Granville.

A shiver of terror ran down my spine.

I muttered: “I’m sorry. I thought I knew you.”

Then I turned and ran quickly up the stairs.

I was trembling. I felt sick with fear. The nightmare was indeed growing worse.

I looked at my mother lying there sleeping. She was pale and very still. I knelt by the bed and hid my face in the bedclothes.

I felt very apprehensive.

After a few moments I arose. He wouldn’t have recognized me, I assured myself. He had said nothing. I should have to be watchful now. I must keep out of his way.

What evil fate had brought him here to Dorchester? I had not thought of his being a soldier-one of the King’s men. This town was full of soldiers.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I must have changed since those days hi Venice.

No, he would not have recognized me, for I had hurried from the room almost as soon as he had looked at me.

I sat down and thought of it all-those days in Venice, that night of the ball when he had come very near to kidnapping me, the birth of Carlotta; I thought of Harriet, lively, energetic, relishing a situation which was full of pitfalls.

What can I do? I asked myself.

I felt the situation was growing more and more desperate every minute.

There was a knock at my door. I started up, crying: “Who is there?”

It was the innkeeper.

I opened the door and he stood there with a letter in his hand. “A gentleman asked me to give you this,” he said.

I took it and said: “What gentleman?”

“He is below, my lady. He awaits an answer.”

“Thank you.” I shut the door and listened to his footsteps as he went down the stairs.

For some moments I was afraid to open the letter. Then I took it to the window and read:

I know who you are and why you are here. I think I may be able to help. Will you come down to the inn parlour and discuss this?

Beaumont Granville I stared at the paper. So he had recognized me. What did it mean? He could help me?

My impulse was to tear up the letter.

I stood for a moment hesitating and then I looked at my mother’s face.

I must at least not let the opportunity pass by. All my instincts called out to me not to trust this man. Yet what could I do? I did not know which way to turn. At Eversleigh it had seemed easy enough to say: “Offer a bribe. Others have done so with success. They say Jeffreys is becoming rich out of the Bloody Assizes.” Yet how did one offer a bribe? It was a delicate procedure. It was something which must not be mentioned in actual terms. There would have to be hints. Ways had to be found to give the bribe as though it were not being given at all.

I knew I would see this man. I must. There was no alternative.

I went down to the inn parlour.

He turned as I came in. He was smiling with what I can only call triumph. He rose and bowed low.

“So,” he said, “we meet again.”

“You had something to say to me?”

“Indeed I have. Won’t you sit down? I have told the innkeeper we must not be disturbed.”

I sat down. There was a table between us. I looked into his face. Beau Granville.

The name suited him. He had those excessive good looks which had no doubt led him to believe that the world was his for the taking. I guessed he took a great pride in his appearance. His linen was scented with the smell I remembered at once. It was a mingling of musk and sandalwood, perfumes I did not like.

“I know why you are here. Your father is in prison in this town. His trial will be in two days’ time.”

“Two days,” I repeated.

He smiled. He had perfect teeth and clearly liked to show them.

“That gives us a little time,” he said.

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

“I could help you, you know.”

“How?”

He lifted his shoulders. “My country estate is on the edge of this town. I know the judge well. I have often entertained him here. I believe that a word from me would go a long way.”

“We will pay,” I said eagerly.

He put his hands to his lips. “Do not speak so,” he replied. “It could be dangerous.”

“I know these things are done. I have heard…”