I would relive it all again, giving it my own ending. He was my true husband and we lived together in harmony in his splendid country house with Kate, our eldest daughter, and her brothers and sisters.
A foolish dream, remote from reality. But when the future is a little frightening, it is comforting to dwell in fantasy rather than face stark reality.
Then a strange thing happened. We had a visitor.
Maggie came to my room.
She said: "He wants to speak to you. He is below."
"You mean ... ?"
She nodded. "Yes. Jack Adair. He asked to see you."
"Oh, Maggie."
"I think you should. If you refuse, he will go away. He says he does not wish to disturb you. Til bring him up, shall I?"
I nodded, and a few minutes later she brought him to my room.
He looked at me with great tenderness and I felt that lifting of my spirits which he could always bring about.
"You will have much to say to each other," said Maggie. "I shall leave you together."
When we were alone, he came to the bed and sat on it, facing me, and then took my hands in his.
"Sarah," he said, "I am so sorry it was the way it was."
I said ruefully: "How could it have been otherwise?"
"I thought we should go on being happy together, even though ..."
"No," I said. "That was impossible."
"I have come to ask you to forgive me."
I was silent.
"I knew you would find it hard to do that. I did not realize that it would have meant so much to you. I thought we could have come to some arrangement. You see, I was not free ... and I wanted you so much. Can you understand that?"
I nodded.
"I acted ..."He paused and I finished it for him.
"You acted as so many men of your acquaintance would have done in such circumstances. I know that. It was a prank ... an amusement. You would have set me up in a house, I know, and you would have been my lover for as long as it amused you to be so. But it was not the life I could live."
"I should have known that, and I am asking you now to forgive me.
"Well," I said, "it is a long time ago. And now I understand why you did it, so perhaps I do forgive you."
He kissed my hands.
"I love you, you know, Sarah. I always did."
"If one truly loves, does one trick and deceive?"
He was silent, but he looked very penitent.
"Then there is Kate," he said.
"I know. You have paid for her education. You have seen her. You are trying to win her affection. Have you told her that you are her father?"
"No," he said. "I would not do that without consulting you."
"Is that what you have come here to do?" I asked.
"No. I have come because Christobel has told me of your illness. You know that she has been seeing me."
"I was very shocked when I saw them coming out of your lodgings."
"Yes, I know. Oh, I am sorry it has gone this way, Sarah. Kate is an enchanting child. I am proud to claim her. What I wanted you to know was that if ... if there came a time when you needed me ... when Kate needed me ... I shall be there."
"You mean you would care for her?"
"I do."
And in that moment I realized that which I had not accepted until this moment. I was more ill than I had allowed myself to believe.
Christobel knew this. She had imparted it to him. He wanted to reassure me that I need not fear for Kate if I were no longer there to care for her.
I thought of Kate ... without me. Maggie was aging. Christobel was young and energetic. But Christobel was employed by Jack, not us. And I thought: If I were gone, he would be there to care for her.
I looked at him steadily and he said: "You can trust me, Sarah, this time."
Kate
1678-1689
The Dower House
My mother died on the first day of spring in the year 1678. I suppose it should not have been unexpected, for she had been ill for some time, but it was a great shock to us all nevertheless, and we were a bewildered and desolate household when the blow fell.
We had been so close, all of us, my mother, Maggie, Christobel and myself. Even the servants had been like members of the family. I had grown up in that happy atmosphere and, with the thoughtlessness of the young, expected it to go on forever.
The other day, when I was sorting out my mother's possessions—a task which I found heartrending, with its perpetual reminders of the past, and which I could not attempt until some little time had elapsed after her death—I found her notebooks in which she had recorded the events of her life from the time when she was living on the estate which her father managed, and her coming to London with Kitty Carslake and becoming an actress. I read, too, of her meeting with my father and how she went through a mock marriage with him. I was glad that I had already heard of this, for he had told me of it.
And later the urge came to me to continue with the story, and when I am old I shall read it and I shall be able to recall her as clearly as she was to me all those years before.
Perhaps, though, I shall not carry this out. But at the moment, I tell myself, I will at least attempt it.
I can never think back to the time of her death without experiencing a deep emotion. I recall so clearly that terrible realization that I should see her no more and that a life which had gone on smoothly for years could suddenly change so tragically.
Poor Maggie was completely devastated. For a time she lost that bold and rather domineering attitude toward the world. She was just bewildered and utterly miserable. I understood her feelings, for I shared them.
Christobel was a great comfort to us both at that time.
She was practical and made us eat when we had no desire to do so. She made us consider the everyday life around us which must continue, whatever tragedy we had to face. We were indeed a house of mourning.
About two weeks after my mother's death Lord Rosslyn called. He was shut in the parlor with Maggie and was there for over an hour. I was very disappointed when he left without seeing me. I stood at my window, watching him go, feeling deflated and hurt.
Almost immediately there was a tap on my door and Martha came in. She said Maggie wanted to see me at once.
I ran down to the parlor. Maggie was sitting there, looking very solemn.
"Come and sit down, Kate," she said. "I have something to say to you."
I did so and she looked at me very sadly, and went on: "You have known for some little time that Lord Rosslyn is your father. You will also know that he lives in a very different manner from the way we do."
"Yes," I said.
"I suppose, too, you have some idea of the nature of his ... er ... relationship with your mother. You are very young as yet."
"I shall be eleven in June."
She smiled at me rather wanly. "Still young, Kate. But you are grown up for your years."
"I do understand what happened, Maggie."
"Well, it has created this unusual situation. If your mother had lived ..." Her voice quivered and she was unable to go on for a moment or so, but she quickly recovered her calmness and resumed. "It would have been a different matter then. But she is no longer with us. There is only myself."
I went to her and put my arms about her.
"Oh, Maggie, dearest Maggie, do not say only. While I have you I shall be all right ... and I have Christobel too."
"My dear child, life does not stand still. I am getting old and more feeble every week. That brings me to what I have to say. Lord Rosslyn, your father, wants to take you into his care."
I stared at her in amazement. "Leave here!" I said. "Oh, Maggie!" And I clung to her.