“I don’t suppose it is the first time this sort of thing has happened.
It is in a way funny, like a comedy in which I play the part of the fool who is easily taken in. “
“And it was only after you married that you discovered all this.”
“Yes. She was going to pass off the child as prematurely born, but I learned the truth. I will tell you how. Laura developed a terrible fear of childbirth. I think her conscience may have troubled her. When people have wronged someone, they often hate them for reminding them, by their very presence, of their own perfidy. At least, I think that was how it may have been with Laura. She was unbalanced and this fear became an obsession. She was convinced she was going to die. Sometimes she would be overcome by hysteria. It was in one of these moods that she admitted to me that I was not the father of her child, that I had been completely taken in. How clever she had been to plan it, and how foolish I had been. Although by that time I had begun to guess something of this, I was deeply shocked. I hated her and I told her so. Jemima, of course, was close at hand, ear at keyhole. Laura shouted, ” I shall die. I know I shall die. ” And I said, ” Well, that will be a good solution to the affair. ” Jemima hated me. I am sure she believed that if I had not married her, Laura’s father might have relented and she would have been allowed to marry this connection of hers. I am sure she had set her heart on that. She hinted that I had made Laura bear this child, knowing that she was not strong enough to have children, and it was all for the sake of the family. It was absolute nonsense and she knew it. She even hinted that I was responsible for Laura’s death. “
I said: “There is one thing you should do without delay, and that is get rid of Jemima.”
“She looks after the child.”
“Bridget is a normal little girl. You can’t let that woman bring her up.”
“The child would grieve if she went.”
I thought she might as no one in the house seemed to pay much attention to her apart from Jemima.
“You see, I am telling you all this because you thought I had changed.
Do you wonder? “
“No. Life leaves its mark. We all suffer in our different ways.”
“I can imagine what that shipwreck did to you … and losing your father.”
“It is something which I shall never forget.”
“As I this. Carmel, I have thought more often of it since you have been back. Life seemed to change when we lunched in the Bald-Faced Stag after all those years. I saw a way out… with you. I thought:
Len Cherry is an excellent manager. He could run this estate without me. I’d get a new and experienced man to help him. And I would get away from the place. In Cumberland there is a small estate which belongs to the family and I could enlarge that and start afresh. I’d like to put everything that happened behind me. “
“What of your mother? What would she think? What of Bridget?”
“My mother would come with us.”
“She would never leave the Grange.”
“I think she would understand.”
“It’s a wild dream, Lucian. You could never leave the Grange. Think of all the years your family has lived there. There must have been troubles before. People grow away from them. Your wife is dead. I know you were unhappy, but nothing can be changed. She deceived you and she was unhappy. You both were. If she had married her lover and lost her inheritance, she might have been happy. It was her decision not yours. You were the victim. You can’t run away. You would despise yourself if you did. Besides, it wouldn’t work. You should take an interest in the child. She has no mother. And where is her father? She will ask questions when she grows up. I know what it means to be without parents. I spent the early years of my life believing that I was not wanted. Don’t let that happen to Bridget. But I am convinced that Jemima Cray should go.”
“I see how you would take care of these things,” he said, looking at me appealingly. He had certainly changed from the invincible Lucian of my childhood, and that had been the one I had loved.
“Now you know it all, Carmel,” he said, “I hope you don’t despise me.”
“I could never do that.”
“And you don’t reject me altogether?”
“Of course I don’t.”
“Does that mean that there is hope for me?”
“It means that there is hope for us both.”
I was deeply affected by Lucian’s confession.
He had seemed so vulnerable, sitting opposite me making his pitiable confession.
He had been foolish. Who had not been at such a time? I could see exactly how it had all happened, and how he despised himself for being so gullible and how it had changed him from a young man of pride and confidence into a bitter one with little regard for himself.
The hero had feet of clay and, oddly enough, that increased my tenderness for him. I believed I could love the weak man perhaps even more than the all-conquering hero.
I wanted to see more of him. I would take him to Castle Folly. He should know Rosaleen and Harriman and they should know him.
I was sure Rosaleen had chosen him as the man I should marry. And myself ? I did love him. I had been convinced of that when he had told me frankly what had happened, and yet I still felt that there was something more I had to learn, that he was holding back even more than he told.
He had talked so earnestly, so sincerely. He had been weak, certainly, but his weakness had grown out of his compassion for Laura, and a desire to do what was right. He had not loved her, and I fancied that, from the first, there were doubts as to whether the child was his, but when she threatened to kill herself, he could not endure the possibility that he might be responsible for her death.
And now his life was in disorder and he was calling to me to help him.
There were moments when I contemplated going to him and saying, “Yes, Lucian, let us marry. Let us make the Grange a happy house, a home for Bridget, and send Jemima away.” And then I would hesitate. I did not know everything. Why did I have this strange feeling that he was not telling me all the truth?
Wait, said caution. And a few days after that meeting with Lucian, there came the letter.
The handwriting was faintly familiar, and it took me right back to the schoolroom at Commonwood House. I knew from whom it came. I took it to my room so that no one should be there when I read it, and my hands were trembling when I slit the envelope.
Dear Carmel, I was deeply moved when I read your letter so much so that I could not reply for some time. That is why there is this delay. Of course I remember you. I wondered how you found me. But perhaps you will tell me that when we meet.
I was not sure at first whether I could do it. You see, I have tried hard to distance myself from what happened and your letter brought it all back. But do not think I was not deeply touched. I should very much like to see you. Perhaps we could meet somewhere quiet. just the two of us. I thought out-of- doors where we could be sure not to be disturbed.
I see that you are at an address in Kensington and I thought of the Gardens there. I am living in Kent and it is an easy journey by train to London. I could be there about ten o’clock next Wednesday. Suppose we meet at the Albert Memorial? Then we could find a seat and talk. If that is not convenient for you, we could choose another time.