Текст книги "The Return of the Gypsy"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“Now and then. I was playing a part, playing at being a gypsy.”

“You had gold rings in your ears.”

“Yes. I worked hard at it. When I saw you I thought I had never seen anyone quite like you.”

“I certainly had never seen anyone like you. But then I knew little of gypsies.”

“I thought: I shouldn’t be meeting her like this. It should be at a ball and she should be older. She should be seventeen, her first ball, and she should have the first dance with me. I realized then what I had done by throwing away my old way of life, my background, everything … just for a whim.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true, I swear.”

“But you did not go back to your home.”

“You know the pride of the young. They take a step and refuse to see that it is folly. I was determined to go on with what I had begun, but I never forgot you. And then … there I was in danger of losing my life and you came to save it. Doesn’t that show that you and I were meant to be a great deal to each other?”

“I don’t know about such things. Perhaps I don’t believe that anything is meant. Things are what we make them.”

He said slowly: “I am not going to let you go now I have found you.”

“I daresay you will visit us. You are Tamarisk’s father. You will want to see her and she will probably want to see you.”

“I was not thinking of that. I love you. I always have. I used to think of you on that fearful ship and later in my hut. I used to come out at night and look at the stars overhead. I used to imagine that you, too, would be looking at the stars and they would be different from the ones I saw. We were on opposite sides of the world. We should be together always.”

“I think I should go,” I said. “Show me the house quickly and I will get on with my shopping.”

He rose, took my hands, and pulled me up beside him. For a moment we stood very close. I felt an extraordinary lassitude creeping over me. I was unsure what it meant except that it was a warning. I ought to get out of this house as quickly as possible.

We mounted the stairs, he leading the way.

“Small, as I told you,” he was saying. “But compact.”

We had reached a landing and he threw open a door. There was a large bedroom with a four-poster bed. The curtains were of green velvet; they matched the drapes at the window and there were touches of green in the carpet.

“Your brother was very fond of green,” I said.

“His favourite colour obviously. Do you like it?”

“Enchanting. It’s so fresh.”

He shut the door and I said: “Show me the next room. Then I must go.”

He put his arms round me and pulled me down to sit on the bed. “What are you doing with your life?” he said.

I laughed on a rather high note. “I believe,” I answered, “that I am doing what most people do with their lives. I am living it.”

“You are living in a half world, Jessica. You have shut yourself away from reality.”

“My life is real enough.”

“You are merely existing. Why did you do it?”

I turned rather angrily to him. “I had to do it. Why did you leave your home and become a gypsy? Why did you kill a man for the sake of a girl and almost lose your life for it?”

“Why do we do these things? But having done them should we suffer for them for ever?”

“You won’t. You have cast your misfortunes aside admirably. I shall never forget how you looked at the Inskips’ ball. No one would have guessed.”

“One doesn’t have to live for ever with one’s mistakes. You cannot shut yourself away. You can’t just wither away in that place.”

“I’m not withering away. I am living a very useful life.”

“Now that I have found you, you don’t imagine that I am going to let you go.”

I was shaken. I wanted to hear him say that. I should have gone then … but I could not. More than anything I wanted to stay.

I replied: “I have made my bed, as they say, and I must lie on it.”

He shook his head. “You and I will find happiness together.”

“How can that be?”

He drew me to him and kissed me over and over again.

No, said my conscience. But something else said: Stay. Why shouldn’t you? What harm is it doing?

Harm! But I was married to Edward.

Edward would not know.

That was the danger signal. I was actually telling myself that Edward need never know. I felt quite depraved and with it a sensation of great excitement. I knew in that moment that I was going to succumb to temptation.

He went on kissing me.

“It had to be,” he said.

I made no effort to break away.

“Please, Jessica,” he said, “I have dreamed of this for so many years. It has sustained me … brought me through. One day I shall find her, I told myself. And now I have, I shall never let you go.”

I was in love with him. How different this was from the mild attraction I had once felt for Peter Lansdon. This was overwhelming, an intense longing to be with him. I thought, I shall never be happy when he is not there.

“I know you love me,” he said.

“I can’t. I must not.”

“You cannot say you can’t when you do.”

“Jake,” I said pleadingly. “Jake, I must remember my obligations. I never knew until now what a terrible mistake I have made, but it is done, and it is my mistake. I must live with it.”

As I was speaking he was slipping my gown from my shoulders; and I knew I could not resist.

So it had happened. I felt bewildered and exhilarated by the experience. I felt as though I were dreaming. But there he was beside me and I knew that I loved him, had always loved him, and would love him for ever.

He kissed me tenderly. “You must not be sad,” he said. “It had to be. You could not go on in that way … not when I was near you. You must not be afraid.”

I could only say: “I have done this … to Edward.”

“Edward would understand.”

I shook my head. “He must never know.”

“He won’t.”

“I would die rather. He has been so good. That terrible accident… to happen to such a man. I have to care for him for the rest of our lives.”

“It will not always be like this,” he said. “We will think what it is best to do.”

“We must never meet again.”

“That is quite out of the question. My dearest Jessica, this is not such an unusual occurrence as you think.”

“I know wives are unfaithful to their husbands, husbands to wives. But that does not help me. This is not any husband and wife. This is Edward. It is myself.”

“My dear sweet Jessica, life is not meant to be a penance. It is to be lived to the full… to be enjoyed. As soon as we met again this was inevitable. In view of what your marriage has been no one would blame you.”

“I blame myself.”

“I will teach you differently.”

Then he took me into his arms and made love to me again … this time less urgently, tenderly.

And I made no attempt to restrain him.

I knew that I had changed the course of my life then. I knew that this was a beginning and that I should not be able to resist him. I was about to embark on a double life.

Blackmail

IF THAT HAD BEEN the end perhaps there would have been an excuse for me. But it was not. I was as though intoxicated. I made excuses for myself. I was a woman with natural desires. Edward could never help me fulfil these. I had taken a lover. That sounded casual. I loved deeply and was loved in return. I believed now that I had always loved Jake. Something had passed between us when we first met and I had only to see him again to realize that he was the man for me.

I went on explaining to myself. Edward would understand. He had always been worried because he knew that this was not a natural life we were living. I would make up to him for what I had done. I would be even more solicitous, even more caring.

I told myself that I must never go to that house again; but I could not keep away. We had planned to spend four more days in London. Four more days! I could not help it. I sought every opportunity to be with Jake.

I was shameless, I supposed. I realized that I had been starved of love. I was wildly happy in some moments, filled with remorse in others. I would experience a deep sadness when I contemplated Amaryllis who had made such a success of her life—the happy wife and mother. I often thought how happy I could have been if I were married to Jake.

As for him, he was less burdened by guilt than I. Indeed I believe he felt none. But then I was deceiving my husband. He had no such matrimonial burdens to consider. He constantly tried to lift my spirits. Mine was no ordinary marriage, he insisted. It was understandable that this should happen some day. Edward would understand if he ever knew.

“He must never know,” I cried vehemently. “He has suffered enough.”

“He would realize …”

I shook my head. “He would be kind, understanding, forgiving, but he would be wounded … deeply wounded.” Then I added: “I must not come here again.”

I said that often, but I did go … again … and again, and I waited through the days for the opportunities, so that I could slip into that house in Blore Street.

They were such strange days—days of exultation, days of shame. The hours flew by as they never had before and yet those four days seemed like a year. I had experienced so much; grown up, I supposed. I had ceased to be an innocent girl. I was a vital woman, scheming for meetings with her lover—eager, passionate … and then suddenly remembering what I was doing.

I felt my guilt must be written on my face for them all to see. But no one noticed. Not even my mother.

One day I had been to the house and Jake was escorting me back to Albemarle Street, and as we walked along we came face to face with Peter Lansdon.

Hastily I withdrew my arm from Jake’s. I think I flushed a little.

“Peter!” I cried. “I didn’t expect to see you. I didn’t know you were in London.”

He smiled at me. “Business,” he said. “Trouble at one of the warehouses.”

“This is Sir Jake Cadorson. Sir Jake, this is Peter Lansdon—my niece’s husband.”

The two men acknowledged each other.

“I was just returning to the house,” I floundered. “I had been out… and I met Sir Jake.”

“You will be going back to Eversleigh soon, I believe.”

“Have you been to Albemarle Street?”

“No. I have just arrived. I went straight to the warehouse.”

“Peter is a very busy man,” I said to Jake.

“Trouble has a habit of cropping up,” said Peter. “I must be going. More business to attend to. I’ll be coming on to Albemarle Street later.”

We said goodbye.

“Do you think he knew?” I asked. “Was it obvious that we had been together?”

“I think he had one thought in mind … his own affairs.”

“He is very absorbed in them,” I replied with relief. “I am afraid it might seem a little obvious.”

“You must silence that uneasy conscience of yours, my dearest,” he said. “Everything will be all right.”

But Peter Lansdon had put a blight on the day. He had brought home to me more forcibly the wrong I was doing.

Edward was pleased to see me. “It has seemed so long,” he said.

“It was not really very long.”

“How were the celebrations?”

“Very enthusiastic.”

“I wonder how long the mood will last.”

“We are at peace. People are going to remember that for a long time.”

“People have short memories.”

“Edward, how pessimistic you have become!”

He laughed. “Well, it is nice to have you back.”

“James has showed his usual efficiency?”

“Oh yes, we played a lot of piquet and I’m teaching him chess. I think he’ll be quite a good player.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Jessica … you look different.”

I felt my voice falter. “Different? How different?”

He looked at me with his head On one side. “You look … radiant. It was obviously a good holiday.”

“Yes, I think it was. All the excitement… There was such adulation for the Duke. One gets caught up in all that.”

“It’s a very happy state of affairs. We should all enjoy it while we can.”

After a while I said: “Oh, an interesting thing happened. It was at the Inskips’ ball.”

“That was a grand affair, I imagine.”

“Very grand. We met a Sir Jake Cadorson. Guess who he turned out to be. I’ll give you three guesses.” I gave a nervous little laugh, trying to be merry. Did it sound artificial?

“Some businessman?”

“No … not exactly.”

“I was going to say a friend of Peter.”

“No, I’d better tell you. Do you remember Romany Jake?”

“The gypsy, yes. I’ll never forget him. It was through him that we met each other.”

“Well, he has become Sir Jake.”

“How did he manage that?”

“He was no real gypsy. He ran away to join them. He comes from an old Cornish family. He went to Australia and served his seven years and then heard he was heir to estates in Cornwall. There was a title too. And there he was at the Inskips’ ball—quite an honoured guest.”

“I never saw him. Did you recognize him?”

“After a while, yes. We had a talk together … several talks. My father asked him to the house.”

“That must have been interesting.”

I was glad I was sitting with my back to the light.

“You know he is Tamarisk’s father,” I said.

“Good Lord, yes. Dolly, of course.”

“I have had to ask him to come down here for a short visit. He wants to see his daughter.”

“That’s natural enough.”

“I am wondering how to break the news to Tamarisk. What will her feelings be, do you think?”

“She can be unpredictable.”

“I want to get her used to the idea before he comes.”

“Of course. What sort of man is he … this gypsy cum baronet?”

“Well, I suppose he is in his late twenties … maybe thirty. He’s dark …”

“I didn’t mean his appearance so much.”

“He … er … fitted very well into the Inskips’ circle.”

“That’s just about top notch, isn’t it?” he said with a laugh.

“I suppose so. He told me that he had run away from home to join the gypsies because of family disagreements.”

“And now he has apparently stepped back into his rightful niche.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Tamarisk ought to be pleased to have such a father. I wonder if he will want to take her away.”

“I wonder if she would want to go.”

“With Tamarisk, one never knows. One thing I know is that you will do what is right… and for the best.”

He smiled at me lovingly and in that moment I felt the burden of my guilt was almost unbearable.

Tentatively I approached the matter with Tamarisk.

“Tamarisk,” I said, “have you ever missed not having a father?”

She looked surprised and thought for a moment. Then she said: “No.”

“What would you say if you suddenly found you had one?”

“I don’t want one,” she said.

“Why not?”

“He’d tell me what to do. Old Mr. Frenshaw still tells young Mr. Frenshaw what to do and he’s quite old.”

I laughed. “Old Mr. Frenshaw tells everybody what to do. You might like your father.”

“I don’t think I need one.”

“It’s nice to have one.”

“What for?”

“Well, everybody had a father at some time.”

“I haven’t.”

“You couldn’t be born without one. There has to be a mother and father.”

She looked puzzled, and feeling I was getting into difficult ground, I started again. “As a matter of fact you have a father.”

“Where?”

“In London. He wants to meet you.”

She stared at me in amazement. “How can he, when he doesn’t know me?”

“He knows of you.”

“Why isn’t he here then … like other fathers?”

“It’s rather complicated. He had to go away. He’s been away for a long time, right to the other side of the world. Now he’s back and he wants to meet you.”

“When?”

“Next week?”

“Oh,” she said. There was a pause before she went on. “Brownie had to have a bran mash this morning. Stubbs is giving it to her. Jonathan is coming over this afternoon and we’re going to ride together.”

Brownie was her very own horse and the joy of her life. Stubbs was one of the grooms.

I could see that she was not greatly impressed by the prospect of seeing her father, and that her mind was on other matters far more interesting in her opinion. Riding with Jonathan was far more important to her—so much so that she did not want to consider anything else.

I felt excited and apprehensive at the thought of having Jake at Grasslands. I was very much afraid that we might betray our feelings for each other.

I introduced him to Edward and watched them together… my husband and my lover. Edward was courteous and as Jake was quite frank about his life as a gypsy and on the convict settlement there were none of those uneasy moments which occur when there are subjects which must be avoided.

Edward’s verdict when we were alone was: “What an interesting man! I suppose all that happening to one would give one a certain … what shall I say … an aura of fascination perhaps. Then running off with the gypsies. He’s an individualist. There is no doubt about that. He will liven us up, I daresay. You’ll want to take him over to Eversleigh, I imagine.”

I said they would invite us and we should also go to Enderby, although Amaryllis was scarcely in a condition to entertain.

“Oh, Eversleigh will do the honours. But the main problem is Tamarisk.”

It was a strange meeting. She came into the room and he stood up and went to her. She looked up at him with curiosity.

“So you are my daughter,” he said.

“They say that,” she said almost disbelievingly.

“Well, then it is time we got to know each other.”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away.

“Tamarisk,” I cried indignantly. “Your father has come a long way to see you.”

“You’ve been to the other side of the world.” She turned to him and there was a certain interest in her eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s very different there.”

“With kangaroos?”

He nodded.

“Did you ever see one?”

“Yes.”

“With a baby in its pouch?”

“Yes, and I’ve eaten kangaroo soup.”

“You killed it.”

“Somebody must have killed it to make the soup. You can’t make soup out of live things.”

“Did you have a boomerang?”

“Yes, I had that. I hear you are riding and that you are a good rider.”

“Do you like horses?”

“Very much. Perhaps we can go for a ride together and have a good talk.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll put on my riding habit. I’ve got a new one.”

“That’s splendid. You can show me the country.”

“All right,” she said. “Wait there. I won’t be long.”

I smiled at him when she had gone. “I think,” I said, “you have taken the first step.”

We were alone in the room.

“Jessica,” he said. “I have missed you so much.”

“Please … not here … not in this house.”

“You will come to London.”

“Oh Jake, it can’t go on. Now I am back here with Edward I see that.”

“He will never know. And we need each other.”

“I could not bear for him to know.”

“You can’t be expected to live like a nun … not you, Jessica. You couldn’t.”

I said: “I have already shown that I am no nun. I have already broken my marriage vows.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you … but it is all impossible. We have to see that. This is the way I have chosen. I could not ever hurt Edward.

He has suffered so much already. What do you think it is like for him, lying there, day after day … a man and yet not a man.”

“What is it like for us … being denied each other?”

“You will find someone.”

“There is only one I want.”

“That can’t be so. If we had not met at the Inskips’…”

“I should have come down here and found you. It was inevitable … from the moment we met all those years ago. It had to be.”

“We must be strong. I am going to be. It was a madness which came to me in London. Now that I am home … with Edward … I know that.”

Tamarisk burst into the room wearing her new riding habit and looking pleased.

“I’m ready,” she announced.

“Well, let us away,” said Jake.

He opened the door for her and she went through. Then he turned to look back at me. He put his fingers to his lips and threw them towards me.

I should be pleased. The meeting had gone off better than I had hoped. Tamarisk was wary but he would soon win her with his charm. I could see that.

It might be that she would have another hero to set beside Jonathan.

I went to Edward.

“I can see all went well,” he said. “You look very pleased with yourself.”

“They’ve gone riding. I think she is going to take to him.”

“Well, he’s a likeable fellow. I wonder if he will want to take her away from us.”

“That will be for him and her to decide.”

“She might like the idea of that place in Cornwall.”

“There is one person you have forgotten. Jonathan. She has quite a passion for him.”

“Oh yes. It would take a great deal to get her to leave him.”

“I wouldn’t be sorry to see her go to Cornwall.”

“She is something of a liability.”

“I wasn’t thinking of that. She is old for her years and I am a little perturbed about this obsession with Jonathan. Jonathan himself has quite a reputation.”

“I am sure Jonathan would never misbehave at home.”

“I hope not. I fear that violent passion of hers might tempt him.”

“No, no. It is true he has been rather free with the girls. Tamarisk is different. Whatever his inclinations he would curb them where she is concerned.”

“The feeling might come over him. After all she is there, his willing slave. She is old for her years … precocious … growing up fast.”

Edward shook his head. “Jonathan would show restraint, I am sure. He is a decent fellow at heart.”

Oh Edward, I thought, you believe the best of everyone. What would you say if you knew your wife had thrown restraint to the winds in a house in Blore Street, that she has betrayed you not once but several times with this man who is now a guest in your house?

There was an innocence about Edward. He was like Amaryllis in a way. He believed in the goodness of people. Such as they were aroused a protective instinct. I never wanted Edward to know the truth about me. I vowed that he never should. I remembered fleetingly the occasion when Peter had come across us arm in arm in Blore Street. Peter might not be very observant, having other matters on his mind, but everyone might not be the same.

There was only one way to ensure Edward’s never finding out that he had an unfaithful wife. So far we had been undetected. We must never let there be a chance of our betraying our guilty secret.

I remembered what a big part Leah had played in our story. She had come into our household and now seemed like one of the ordinary servants. She was an excellent nurse for Tamarisk and I often wondered what I should have done without her. She was quiet, they said below stairs, and kept herself to herself. She was not interested in the young men although many would be ready to take notice of her with a little encouragement. It was whispered that she was afraid of them because of an “experience” she had once had.

We knew what that experience was for it had nearly cost her saviour his life and he had paid for his part in the affair with seven years in a penal settlement.

And now she would come face to face with him.

She was there when they returned from their ride. I had prepared her for I thought that was wise. She had turned very pale and then flushed.

She said: “It was a long time ago.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“I never forgot what he did for me.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

And there they were. He was rather flushed from the ride; his eyes were alight with pleasure. I think he was rather intrigued by his daughter. Tamarisk looked like a handsome boy in her riding clothes; she was a daughter of whom he could be proud.

“We had a lovely ride, Leah,” said Tamarisk. “We raced. He beat me … but only just.”

“Leah,” he said. “Little Leah.”

He went to her and took both her hands. She lifted her eyes to his and I saw the adoration there. It moved me deeply.

“So you are looking after my daughter?”

She nodded. There were tears in her eyes. She said: “I have thought of you.”

“I’ve thought of you too, Leah,” he answered gently.

“What you did for me …”

“It was long … long ago.”

“And they blamed you. They were going to hang you…”

“But here I am … hale and hearty.”

“You’re gentry now,” she said. “You were never one of us.”

“It wasn’t for lack of trying.”

I thought I ought to go and leave them together. I felt as though I were prying on Leah’s emotion.

“Come, Tamarisk,” I said. Strangely enough she obeyed me.

She ran off to see that her horse was all right. I went into the garden … out to the shrubbery. I felt I wanted to get away from the scene of reunion.

I wondered if Leah loved him. She had made a hero of him, that much I knew. She had lured his child away from her home because she must have wanted something which was part of him. She loved Tamarisk devotedly.

And what were his feelings for Leah? He had spoken to her very tenderly. He had cared for the innocent young girl in the days when he had first gone to the gypsies. He had been overcome with fury when he had come upon that brute intent on rape. He had lashed out in that fury and it had nearly cost him his life.

How would he feel about Leah now? I was aware of the stirrings of jealousy.

He was susceptible to women, I was sure. I remembered Dolly dancing round the bonfire. Dolly had loved him, and how had he felt about her? He pitied her, I think, but there must have been some desire; and he had lightheartedly given way to it. How lighthearted had he been such a little while ago in a house in Blore Street?

And Leah? When she had been a gypsy girl and he had come among them, had she thought it possible that one day there might have been a match between them? It could have happened. Now, of course, everything was different with him. He was a country gentleman and Leah could have no place in his life. Or could she?

And in any case, what part could I have? Nothing but a secret one.

He must have seen me go into the shrubbery for he found me there.

“At last,” he said, “we are alone.”

I had sat down on the wooden seat there and he was beside me, very close. I was deeply stirred as I always was by his proximity.

I said: “Poor Leah was deeply moved.”

“Yes, she was. It brought it all back to her. When I saw her again I was glad I killed that devil. She was such a gentle girl.”

“She still is and she has been wonderful with Tamarisk. If Tamarisk went to live with you in Cornwall Leah would have to go with her.”

“Tamarisk won’t leave you. I’m a newcomer. She’s not sure of me yet. Jessica, couldn’t we be alone … somewhere … together …”

“Here?” I cried. “In this house? Oh, no … no.”

“It is hard for me to see you here… so near and yet so remote.”

“That is how it has to be.”

“You’ll come to London?”

“Yes … no …”

He smiled at me teasingly. “You’ll come. You must, Jessica, we’ll work out something. We can’t just go on like this.”

“I cannot see any other way of going on.”

“There are ways. There are always ways …”

“You mean secret meetings. Clandestine … furtive meetings …”

“We must take what we can.”

“It should never have gone so far.”

“It was inevitable.”

“Tell me about Leah.”

“What of her?”

“How was she … coming face to face with you like that?”

“Deeply moved, I think.”

“I think she loves you.”

“She is grateful to me.”

“And you?”

“I am fond of her.”

“Do you love her? She is a beautiful girl.”

“She is. But I love one only … now and for ever.”

For a moment I lay against him and then I remembered that I was near the house and that at any moment someone might come out. I stood up and he was beside me, his arms round me. He kissed me tenderly and then with passion.

“Not here …” I said, which was an admission that it could be somewhere else.

“When will you come to London?”

“As soon as it is possible,” I said.

“Perhaps you could bring Tamarisk. She ought to be with her father.”

“She is very sharp. What if she saw …”

“We’d be careful.”

I said: “It must stop.”

I withdrew myself and came out of the shrubbery with him beside me. He was holding my arm tightly.

I looked towards the house and wondered if anyone was watching.

Jake’s visit was declared to have been a great success.

“I like him,” said my father. “He’s lively.”

My mother liked him too, but she was a little reserved when speaking of him and I wondered if she guessed that my feelings for him went deeper than was wise.

He had suggested that Tamarisk visit him in London. There was so much there that he wanted to show her. Then he thought it would be a good idea if she went to Cornwall.

She must remember that he was her father and that his home could be hers if she wished, I told her.

She said: “I like it here.” And she was looking at Jonathan who happened to be there.

The great concern now was Amaryllis. Her time was getting near and Claudine was fussing, as Dickon said, like an old hen.

“Amaryllis is a healthy girl, and women were meant to have children. Why all this fuss?”

“There speaks the arrogant man,” said my mother. “Naturally Claudine is fussing. All mothers do. I’m fussing and we shall continue to fuss until we have the baby. As for you, I remember you fussed a little when Jessica was born.”

“I must have known that she would not be content to make a quiet and ordinary appearance.”

“Well, you were wrong. She did. Jessica, you were such an adorable baby … right from the first.”

“A squalling brat as far as I remember,” said my father.

“Whom you adored from the moment she was born.”

That was how they always were, sparring in a way which betrayed their love for each other.

How fortunate they were! I thought. Aunt Sophie had always said my mother had been one of the lucky ones. Yet she had at first been denied the man of her choice and made a not entirely satisfactory marriage; and she had passed through a horrifying experience coming close to death in a most frightening manner during the revolution in France … and only finally to this happy state at Eversleigh.

Poor Aunt Sophie, who had always pitied herself and never learned that one has to make the most of what one has.

I was always telling myself that—particularly now. I had married Edward—good kind Edward—and it was my duty to care for him and shield him from all hurt.

I must learn to like this way of life, to stop dreaming of the impossible, to forget that I had stepped over the bounds of morality and convention … and never, never stray again.

I was with Amaryllis a great deal during those days when she was awaiting the birth of her child, wishing that I could have one. I must not wish for that—for if I did it could not be my husband’s.

I could only sit with Amaryllis and play with Helena.

Poor Amaryllis. She was rather long in labour but the great moment came and I could imagine her joy when she was coming out of her exhaustion and heard the cry of her child. And this one was a boy.

There was great rejoicing throughout the household. I had never seen Peter so delighted. What a store these men set by boys! I felt a little annoyed though I joined in the general rejoicing.