It was a house of contrasts; the robust Agatha with her accent of the streets of London, gentle Emmeline awaiting the visits of her lover. Yes, it was a mysterious world and, while I found it of absorbing interest in a morbid sort of way, I longed to escape from it.
I knew that tremendous problems awaited us—or at least Lavinia—when we were out of here. I guessed that all the people here were paying Aunt Emily a considerable sum of money for her services; and even though Lavinia was to be allowed to pay over a period of time, it would not be easy for her.
There was something strange about most of the people here. It was the sort of nursing home where people who had something to hide went ... except those like the Duchess and the old man, whose people sent them here to get them out of the way. It was very pathetic and I could not get out of my mind the thought that it was also sinister.
I did not greatly like the doctor. There was something secretive about him. He looked to me like a man who had something to hide.
Janine was different here. She had to help her aunt and was often sent to look after the patients. There was one young man who was made her special charge. He was the Honourable Clarence Coldry and was quite clearly mentally deficient. He had a beaming smile and was delighted if anyone spoke to him. He himself had difficulty in speaking; his tongue seemed too large for his mouth. There was something doglike about him.
I had an idea that Janine was not very happy. She did not seem like the same girl who had been to school with us. I sensed a scheming nature behind Aunt Emily's smiles and she was very watchful of Janine.
I was longing to get away. It seemed as though we had been here for months. We took little walks, Janine and I. Lavinia had become quite cumbersome in the last weeks and she could not accompany us.
"Soon you'll be gone," Janine said to me once. "It can't be long now. Lavinia is almost ready to deliver the goods."
I winced. I was more fond of that yet-to-be-born baby than any of them. I did not like to hear it referred to as "the goods." "And I shall still be here," she said with a little grimace.
"Well, it is your home," I reminded her.
She nodded grimly. "Aunt Emily has plans for me."
"Not the Honourable Clarence!"
"Afraid so."
"Oh, Janine ... you couldn't!"
"Perhaps. After all, he is an Hon."
"He wouldn't want to marry."
"I have to make him rely on me."
"Janine, why do you stay here?"
"It's where I was born. I have lived here all my life ... except when I was at school."
"Your aunt must have been fond of you to send you to Lamason."
"She is not my aunt. It's my real family who pay."
"They would not want you to marry Clarence."
"It's Aunt Emily who has the say."
"She seems very powerful. I hope she will give Lavinia time to pay."
"She will. Although if there was any delay in the payments she might decide to approach Mama."
"She mustn't do that. I don't think Lavinia realized it was going to be so costly."
"Mistakes always are ... in one way or another. After all, she was in a real mess. We got her out of it ... you and I. What would she have done if we hadn't brought her here? There will be the baby's keep too. Mind you, she's been lucky. Can't expect any more than she's got."
"At least we have come so far," I said.
And I thought again: It can't be long now.
It was soon after that when Lavinia awoke one night to find her pains had started.
The doctor and Aunt Emily came to her room. I had hastily put on some clothes and was sent to arouse one of the maids, who knew something about childbirth and had assisted before.
It was not a difficult birth. Lavinia was young and healthy and the next day her little girl was born. A cradle had been set up in our room.
"We are rather full at the moment," explained Aunt Emily apologetically to me. I did not mind sharing the room, which had become a nursery. I was fascinated by the baby.
Lavinia was greatly relieved to have come through her ordeal. During the first day she sat up in bed, smiling and marvelling with the rest of us at the baby.
She had many visitors—Emmeline, Agatha and the Duchess; the latter mistook Lavinia for her daughter and kept calling the baby Paul. Miriam did not come.
There was to be a short respite for Lavinia before we moved on. I was conscious of an immense relief. Lavinia had come through safely. I had heard tell of many things which could go wrong in childbirth and I had had some anxious moments wondering what action we could take if anything of that nature happened to Lavinia. But there was no longer need to worry on that score. She was perfectly well and the baby appeared to be flourishing. Moreover the end of our stay in the house was certainly at hand.
For the first few days we gave ourselves up to marvelling at the baby. It was like a miracle to me that such an enchanting creature could have come out of that sordid little affair. Even Lavinia succumbed to her charm and looked rather proud and almost happy to have produced her. I loved her red wrinkled face, her screwed-up eyes and the tufts of dark hair, her little hands and feet all equipped with delicate pink-tinted nails.
"She has to have a name," I said. "She is like a little flower."
"We'll call her Flower and as she is half French she shall be Fleur."
"Fleur," I repeated. "It seems to suit her."
So Fleur she became.
I had written to Polly to tell her that the baby was born and that it was a little girl named Fleur. Polly wrote back that they couldn't wait to get the baby. Eff was so excited; she had everything ready ... cradle, bottles and nappies. Eff was very knowledgeable about babies' needs. She did think the name was a bit outlandish and would have liked Rose or Lily or perhaps Effie.
"You're on your own, now," said Janine. "I've got your address. I'll write."
Aunt Emily took a cosy farewell and at the same time presented Lavinia with the outstanding account, which depressed Lavinia every time she looked at it.
She and I were to take the baby to London. Polly would meet us at the station. Eff would be at home preparing the welcome.
In due course we arrived. I was carrying the baby. I was less awkward with her than Lavinia was. And so Polly saw us. She cried out, "Drusilla!" Then she was beside me, her eyes brimming over with love and hugging me and the baby at the same time.
"So here you are with that little love. And you ... Let's have a look at you. You're looking well."
"And you, too, Polly. It's wonderful to see you."
"You bet," said Polly. "And wait until Eff sees the nipper."
Her greeting to Lavinia was less warm. I was glad that Lavinia was suitably subdued and did seem to be aware of what she owed to Polly and her sister.
Polly had a cab already waiting for us and we all got in and drove to the house on the common, where Eff was waiting for us.
Eff had changed. She was quite stately now. They had taken the house across the road and now had three houses, which they let very profitably. It took me some little time to learn who the tenants were because there were now the various floors One, Two and Three, and so on.
Their joy over the baby eclipsed all else. Eff took charge. I could see that Polly was a little baffled. She kept looking at me intently. Of course, the presence of Lavinia was a mystery to them and it put a certain restraint on them. Lady Harriet's invisible presence seemed to brood over us; and I supposed even Polly was not quite immune from that. Eff apologized for everything to Lavinia, for she was far more aware of the grades of society than Polly would admit to being, and however much they disliked Lavinia, she was still Lady Harriet's daughter.