The Love Child

“Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

He stopped and joyfully took my hands. He looked into my face, “Then what is it?” he asked.

“I am not sure,” I answered.

“Not sure! But you have said you love me. You always did. When you were tiny you used to come to me first … with everything. I was the one you always wanted.”

“Yes, I know. You were like my brother.”

“Your brother. Yes that, but more besides. It wasn’t like Edwin, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t. Yes, Leigh, you were the hero, the one who saved me when I was in difficulties … the shining knight in armour.”

“Now you are getting poetic. Why do you hesitate, Priscilla? There is no one else, is there?”

I shook my head.

I wished we had not come to the beach. I could remember so much. Jocelyn and I sitting there near the cave … the man who had walked along with the dogs and the awful fear that had possessed me then… groundless fear as it had turned out to be.

“Then what is it?” asked Leigh.

“It is not quite what it seems, Leigh. There are things you would have to know.”

“Then let me know them,” he said.

“I am afraid this will be a shock for you. Carlotta is my daughter.”

He stopped still and stared at me.

“You see, Leigh,” I said, “when you know everything you may not want to marry me.”

He said slowly: “It was Jocelyn … but I thought that was just a child’s admiration for a handsome young hero.”

“You always insisted on my childishness. You have made me a child for too long. I was not a child. I was young, but I fell in love with him, and when we were marooned on the Eyot we were lovers. He was taken the next day and, as you know, executed.

I have Carlotta to remind me of him.”

“But Carlotta is supposed to be my mother’s daughter.”

I shook my head. “Harriet helped me. What I should have done without her, I do not know.”

“So you went to Venice. It was you who were going to have the child.”

“It was like a play to her and she played it magnificently. Harriet was wonderful to me. I shall never forget it.”

“Carlotta …” whispered Leigh. “I can’t believe this. It’s preposterous.”

“It would be with anyone but Harriet. She was determined to carry it out and she did.”

“Is this why you do not want to marry me? You are still in love with a dead man?”

“I love you, Leigh. Nothing can alter that. I always did. If I married anyone I should want it to be you. But what has gone before changes everything.”

“It does not change my feelings for you.”

“Oh, Leigh,” I said. I put my head against him and he held me tightly. I felt at peace there. I listened to the rise and fall of the waves and the melancholy screeching of the sea gulls. These were the sounds which had accompanied my meetings with Jocelyn.

But this was different. This was Leigh, the strong man, the protector. I realized in that moment that I had loved Jocelyn because I had felt the need to protect him.

I knew that if I had Leigh beside me I should draw on his strength and perhaps in time forget my fears. He knew the secret of Carlotta’s birth. It was a great relief.

I loved Leigh. Of course I loved him. Our future would be built on strong foundations-a love and trust which had existed since my childhood. I felt a surge of happiness such as I had not known for a long time, and an urge to tell him everything. I wanted to explain our fears for my father, my mother’s sickness which was born of heartbreak. I wanted to make him see that I had done what I did because I had to. If I could tell him, the memories would begin to fade. I could be happy again. That was what Leigh meant to me.

But I could not tell him. I could imagine his fury. It would be a cold rage such as that which had sent him to Beaumont Granville’s apartments where he had thrashed him to a dangerous degree. If he knew of this, he would kill Beaumont Granville.

Of course I dared not tell. It must remain my secret.

“You should have told me before,” he said.

“You understand, Leigh?”

“Yes, I understand. It was a romantic adventure. He was in danger and we were all helping him. I understand it, Priscilla. And the result was … Carlotta. That of course makes a difference. We must see what can be done about that.”

“What do you mean? What can be done?”

“I know how you must feel about the child. Perhaps we could take her. She needs a father.”

“She has that in Gregory. He adores her.”

“She needs a mother. Harriet was never very maternal.”

“Carlotta loves her dearly, all the same. But how I should love to have her all to myself.”

“We will see what can be done.”

“Oh, Leigh,” I cried, “I am happier than I have been since … since …”

He took me in his arms and said: “It’s coming right, now, Priscilla. It always had to be. You and I… I always knew it.”

He kissed me solemnly. We had plighted our troth.

Then we went back to the horses.

My mother was delighted.

She kissed me and then Leigh. “It is what I always hoped,” she said. “You always looked after her, Leigh. I remember you as a boy. You felt you ought, in the manly tradition, to despise girls, but you never could quite manage it with Priscilla, could you?”