"He will not snatch you away against your will. Do not be afraid. He knows what we mean to each other. He will not come here and carry you off forcibly. He would want you to go to him willingly."
"But how? When?"
"We have to think about this, Kate. We have to be sensible. You know how I care for you."
"Oh, Maggie, dear Maggie, and I for you."
"I know that, my dear. But look at me." She held out her hand. The fingers were enlarged and misshapen. "We cannot defy time, dear child. You see, it is catching up with me. I shall not be here forever."
I was staring at her in horror. What did she mean? I had just lost my mother. Was she going to die too? A feeling of intense loneliness came over me.
She went on: "There would be a home for you. It would be different from this. You know how careful we have been, and you have seen how quickly life can change. It is doing that all the time. This is your home. It always has been and it is dear to you. You are young to have to face such reality, but it is there nonetheless. We do not know from one day to another what will happen. Your father cares for you. He is a rich man and can do a great deal for you. He is willing to do this. But he does not want to force you to leave here if you do not wish it."
I hugged her. "Maggie, dearest Maggie, I am going to stay here with you. I shall look after you. I will care for you."
"Dear child, that would not please me at all. What I want more than anything—what your mother would have wanted—is to see you settled, your future secure. Your father can do far more for you than any of us here could ever have done. He understands how you feel about this, your home, but you must think of what he offers. He will take you away from here. Oh, it does not mean that we shall never see each other again. He will bring you on visits to London and then you will come to see me. You will live a different sort of life—a life which is more suited to his daughter. It will be better for you. Far, far better than anything you could know here."
"To leave you and Christobel?"
"No, not Christobel. Christobel would go with you. She would remain your governess and companion."
"But, Maggie, I could not leave you."
"Dear child, I am getting old, you know."
"That is all the more reason why I should not leave you."
"It is what your mother would have wanted for you."
"She would never have left you."
"Before your mother came here with Kitty I was alone, Kate."
"You cannot be alone now."
"Your father does not ask you to decide immediately. He wants you to think about it. He knows that you are sensible; he also knows that you are affectionate. But he wants you to look at this clearly. He wants you to have something of the life you would have as his daughter."
"But it is not quite the same, is it? Not like being his real daughter."
"You are his daughter, whichever way it is considered," said Maggie. "He is fully aware of that and he is fond of you. You might decide not to go to him now, but in the future I am sure you would come to regret that."
"Why did he not see me? Why did he go away like that?"
"He wanted you to make the decision yourself. He wants you to go to him freely."
"Perhaps he is hoping I will not and he will then be released from the responsibility."
"Kate! You say you will be eleven in June. You talk like a cynical woman of twenty-five."
"But if he wanted me badly he would have told me himself. He would have persuaded me."
"He may do that. But what he very much wants is for you to go to him of your own accord."
"He forgets that that means leaving you."
"He does not forget it at all. That is why he wants you to decide."
"I never thought of this. I thought ..."
Maggie took my hand and looked into my eyes.
She said: "Listen, Kate. I am old. I grow older with every month. I shall not be here forever. You have lost your mother. She was not old, but she has left us now. Life changes all the time."
"Maggie, you don't want me to go?"
"Oh, my love, you know how much you mean to me. But what I want most is what is best for you. I think of the life that will be yours here when I am gone, and I think of what might be yours if you go to your father."
"Maggie, Maggie," I cried. "I cannot leave you."
She stroked my hair.
"We will think about it, Kate. There is no need for a hasty decision."
Christobel talked of it. I thought about it a great deal. Part of me wanted to go to my father. The prospect excited me. He had attracted me from the first time I was aware of him, when he had saved me from being trampled to death. He had seemed so noble and all-powerful then; and he made me feel that I was important to him. I could not explain why I had felt so excited, but there was no denying I was. I knew that my mother had not been very pleased, but I put that down to the fact that she had been so worried because I had nearly had a very bad accident.
Then, of course, there had been those visits to his lodgings.
Christobel had said: "I want to take you to see someone who is eager to meet you."
I had been excited, of course.
She had gone on: "It is rather secret. It*s hard to explain. I'll tell you about it later."
Then we went into that house which was called his lodgings. It was much grander than our house and there I met the man who had saved me from the surging crowd.
It was like a fairy story. I could not believe that it was true. I did not know he was my father then. I learned that later. He talked to me a great deal, and I suppose I was flattered by his attention. Then when we left Christobel said it was a secret visit really. She thought I would like to see the man who had rescued me. But it would be better if I said nothing to my mother or to Maggie, or, for that matter, to anyone at home.
I was puzzled. I said my mother would be very grateful to my rescuer. She would be pleased that we had met again. She herself would want to say thank you to him.
Christobel said there were some things people of my age did not understand, and she would know when the time was right to tell my mother, but would I trust her when she said it was not yet that time.
I was very mystified, but I knew that Christobel was very clever, so I supposed she was right. In any case, it seemed to add something to the excitement of those visits that they must remain secret.
Now I understand. I have read my mother's notebooks. It was something very bad that he did to her. But I believed that he was very sorry for it and we are taught that we must forgive those who trespass against us when they are truly contrite. And I knew my father was that.
Christobel talked to me about my going to my father.
She said: "You have this big decision to make, Kate. It would not be wise to miss such an opportunity."
"What of Maggie?" I said. "How could I leave her now? She was so fond of my mother, and she has now lost her. If we went too, she would have no one."
"Martha and Jane will look after her."
"But she would be so lonely."
Christobel looked at me sadly. "You are very young, Kate," she said.
"I could not leave Maggie now."
So I stayed on, but even Maggie said I should go.
My eleventh birthday came and went.
Christobel said: "Do you know, Maggie worries a great deal? I think she would be happier if she knew you were to have a life suitable for your father's daughter."
"I am chiefly my mother's daughter," I said, "and this was her home."
My father visited the house.
He said: "Kate, when are you coming to me?"
"I cannot leave Maggie," I said.
He smiled at me rather sadly. "You are a good child," he said. "And I rejoice in that. But this is no place for you. It was different when your mother was alive."
"But there is still Maggie."