She had been told that we were going to stay for a brief visit with Janine, and it was left at that.
When she had put us on the train we were almost hysterical with relief. We laughed and laughed and could scarcely stop ourselves. Lavinia was in good spirits. We had successfully eluded disaster, which had at times seemed imminent, and she owed it to us.
In due course we arrived at Candown, close to the New Forest. The Firs was a large white building set among trees. Aunt Emily received us graciously, but her eyes immediately went to Lavinia.
"We will get you to your room," she said. "You, Miss Delany, can share with Miss Framling. Janine will show you, and then I must have a talk with Miss Framling. But first we will get you settled in nice and comfy."
She was a large woman with a breezy yet soothing manner, which I thought from the first did not quite match the rest of her. She was slightly unctuous. She had light sandy hair and piercing eyes, which were between green and blue. As soon as I saw her I thought that was how Janine would look in thirty years' time, and I could not believe that there was not some blood relationship between them. In spite of her attempt to create what she would call "a comfy atmosphere," there was a certain sharpness about her, a certain coldness in her eyes, and an aggressive point to her nose gave a look of alertness to her face. She reminded me of some kind of bird—a crow or, I thought with a certain uneasiness, a vulture.
But we had successfully completed what seemed to us the most hazardous part of the adventure and must rejoice.
Janine took us to our room. It had blue curtains and the furniture was of light wood. It was a pleasant room and there were two beds in it.
"I am glad you are sharing with me," said the newly humble Lavinia.
Janine said, "You'll be all right now. You've just got to wait until your time comes."
"It's another month ... at least I think so," replied Lavinia.
"You can't be sure," Janine told her. "Aunt Emily will soon find out. She'll get Dr. Ramsay to have a look at you."
Lavinia shivered slightly.
I said soothingly, "It will be all right. I know it will."
Lavinia swallowed and nodded. Now that the difficulties of getting her here had been successfully accomplished she was beginning to brood on the ordeal before her.
A tray of food was sent up to us. Janine brought it and shared the food with us.
When we had eaten, she told Lavinia, "Aunt Emily wants to see you as soon as we've finished. She just wants to discuss a few things."
In due course she took Lavinia off to see Aunt Emily. I was left alone in the room. I went to the window and looked out on a garden. There was a seat there among the shrubs and two people sat on it. One was a very old man. Although seated, he leaned forward on a stick, and I could see that his hand was shaking; every now and then his head gave a little jerk. Beside him was a girl of about Lavinia's age; she was obviously pregnant. They did not speak together; they just sat staring into space. They looked as though they were bewildered.
A shiver ran through me. I had a sudden feeling that the walls were closing round me. From the moment I had entered I had had a premonition of evil ... and that had not been soothed by the breezy presence of Aunt Emily.
In a few weeks, I reminded myself, it will be over. The baby will be with Polly and we shall all go home. Lavinia was away for the best part of an hour and when she came back she looked a little frightened.
I said, "Well?"
"It's going to cost a great deal. I hadn't thought of that."
"But we haven't got the money."
"I don't have to pay it all at once. She'll give me time. I've got to give her some money now ... to start with. It's almost all I've got."
"I didn't think about the money," I said. "Janine didn't say how much it would cost."
"I'll have to find it somehow."
"Perhaps you should tell your mother."
"No!"
"What about your brother?"
"I couldn't tell him I'd got myself into this mess. I shall have to pay for your bed and board, too."
"I could go home."
"Oh, no, no. Promise you won't go."
"Well, if it is going to cost money we haven't got."
"I can pay. She'll give me time. I told her what I'd got and she said she would open an account. I shall have to send her something every month. Oh, Drusilla, why did I ever get myself into this?"
"Ask yourself. You knew how it was with Jos."
"Oh, Jos!" She smiled faintly. "He was only a stable boy, but ..."
"Not quite so dangerous as a bogus French aristocrat."
"I don't know how I could have been so taken in."
"I do," I said. "You are bemused by flattery. After this, you'll have to be more sensible."
"I know. Oh, Drusilla, you are my best friend."
"You didn't seem to think so before this happened."
"I always did. But it is things like this which test friendship."
"Well, you only have to wait now for the baby and then we'll leave. You'll have to pay Polly something, too. You can't just have children and send them off for someone else to keep."
"Polly was always so fond of you."
"But she wasn't so fond of you. You were always rather arrogant with her."
"I didn't know."
"Well, she didn't like you."
"She's only helping because you asked her. Oh, Drusilla, what would I do without you?"
"Or Janine," I reminded her.
"I know. You have both been ... wonderful."
"Don't get emotional. Remember the baby."
She smiled at me gratefully.
Those few weeks I spent at Aunt Emily's clinic were the strangest I had ever known up to that time.
I was not sure whether I was aware of the sinister atmosphere at that time or whether I built it up afterwards.
There were twelve patients staying there and there was nothing ordinary about any of them. There were four other young women expecting babies. They were always called by their Christian names, which in itself was significant. They were under a cloud and their identity was a secret known only to themselves. But I learned a little about them during our stay at The Firs.
I remember Agatha, a bold beauty, mistress of a wealthy merchant. Much to her chagrin, she had conceived his child. She had a rather curious cockney voice and a loud laugh. She was the only one who was not particularly reticent about her life. She told me she had had numerous lovers, but the father of the child was the best; he was oldish and grateful for her favours and in exchange for them was ready to lavish his wealth upon her. "Suits me, suits him," she said, giving me a wink. And in her presence it seemed to me that normality returned; and because I wanted to rid myself of that feeling of unreality I used to meet her in the gardens and we would sit on a seat while she did most of the talking. She knew I was merely accompanying Lavinia, who had been the victim of a little miscalculation, as she said with another of her winks.
"Bound to have happened to her sooner or later," she said. "She'll have to watch out and get the wedding ring soon. These little bastards can be most inconvenient."
She had successfully summed up Lavinia's character.
Another of the pregnant ladies was Emmeline, sweet-faced and gentle, no longer very young—about thirty, I supposed. I discovered a little about her, too. She was nurse to a querulous invalid lady, and she had fallen in love with the lady's husband and he with her. She had been genteelly brought up and I could see that she regarded her present position as a sin. Her lover came to see her. I was rather touched. It was clear to me that there was a genuine affection between them. They used to sit in the garden holding hands; he was very tender towards her.
I fervently hoped that the querulous wife would die and they would be able to marry and live in respectable happiness ever after.