“So you went to Venice. It was you who were going to have the child.”
“It was like a play to her and she played it magnificently. Harriet was wonderful to me. I shall never forget it.”
“Carlotta …” whispered Leigh. “I can’t believe this. It’s preposterous.”
“It would be with anyone but Harriet. She was determined to carry it out and she did.”
“Is this why you do not want to marry me? You are still in love with a dead man?”
“I love you, Leigh. Nothing can alter that. I always did. If I married anyone I should want it to be you. But what has gone before changes everything.”
“It does not change my feelings for you.”
“Oh, Leigh,” I said. I put my head against him and he held me tightly. I felt at peace there. I listened to the rise and fall of the waves and the melancholy screeching of the sea gulls. These were the sounds which had accompanied my meetings with Jocelyn. But this was different. This was Leigh, the strong man, the protector. I realized in that moment that I had loved Jocelyn because I had felt the need to protect him. I knew that if I had Leigh beside me I should draw on his strength and perhaps in time forget my fears. He knew the secret of Carlotta’s birth. It was a great relief.
I loved Leigh. Of course I loved him. Our future would be built on strong foundations—a love and trust which had existed since my childhood. I felt a surge of happiness such as I had not known for a long time, and an urge to tell him everything. I wanted to explain our fears for my father, my mother’s sickness which was born of heartbreak. I wanted to make him see that I had done what I did because I had to. If I could tell him, the memories would begin to fade. I could be happy again. That was what Leigh meant to me.
But I could not tell him. I could imagine his fury. It would be a cold rage such as that which had sent him to Beaumont Granville’s apartments where he had thrashed him to a dangerous degree. If he knew of this, he would kill Beaumont Granville. Of course I dared not tell. It must remain my secret.
“You should have told me before,” he said.
“You understand, Leigh?”
“Yes, I understand. It was a romantic adventure. He was in danger and we were all helping him. I understand it, Priscilla. And the result was … Carlotta. That of course makes a difference. We must see what can be done about that.”
“What do you mean? What can be done?”
“I know how you must feel about the child. Perhaps we could take her. She needs a father.”
“She has that in Gregory. He adores her.”
“She needs a mother. Harriet was never very maternal.”
“Carlotta loves her dearly, all the same. But how I should love to have her all to myself.”
“We will see what can be done.”
“Oh, Leigh,” I cried, “I am happier than I have been since … since …”
He took me in his arms and said: “It’s coming right now, Priscilla. It always had to be. You and I … I always knew it.”
He kissed me solemnly. We had plighted our troth.
Then we went back to the horses.
My mother was delighted.
She kissed me and then Leigh. “It is what I always hoped,” she said. “You always looked after her, Leigh. I remember you as a boy. You felt you ought, in the manly tradition, to despise girls, but you never could quite manage it with Priscilla, could you?”
“Never,” agreed Leigh. “Of course Priscilla was no ordinary girl.”
My father showed little enthusiasm. He quite liked Leigh, who was not unlike himself and different from Edwin, of whom he had a very poor opinion. I thought resentfully: I suppose he is glad to have his daughter taken off his hands.
“There should be no delay,” said my mother. “I daresay you will be called away, Leigh, all too soon.”
Leigh agreed that it might be so and arrangements went afoot with all speed.
Christabel came over from Grassland Manor to congratulate me. She had left plump Thomas Junior in his nurse’s charge. She hated to leave him for long but she had to come and wish me well.
She came to my room for a téte-a-téte.
Leigh had always loved me, she said. She had been envious because he had never looked at her. She lowered her gaze and said: “Priscilla, what about Carlotta?”
“He knows. I told him. I wouldn’t marry him without his knowing.”
“And he … understands?”
“Yes, he understands. He said … Oh, Christabel, this makes me so happy … he says that we must work out some plan to get her with us, so that she can be with her mother. He knows me so well. He knows exactly what I want.”
“He will be a good husband to you, Priscilla, and there is nothing so wonderful in life as a happy marriage.”
“You should know,” I said. “You are one of the fortunate ones who have achieved it.”
“And I don’t deserve it. That’s the point.”
“Nonsense. Ask Thomas whether you do or not. You have made him a very happy man.”
“Yes, he is happy, and that is something, isn’t it? At least I am responsible for that.”
“You must stop reproaching yourself, Christabel. You still do it, you know.”
“I was so envious. Envy is a deadly sin, Priscilla.”
“Well, you are rid of yours now. Wish me happiness like yours.”
“I do,” she answered, “with all my heart.”
Harriet came over a few days before the wedding accompanied by Gregory, Benjie and Carlotta.
That Harriet was delighted was obvious.
“It was what I wanted for you and Leigh,” she told me. “I can’t tell you how happy this has made me. I was an Eversleigh once … when I married Toby … and I was proud to be one. Now I shall have an Eversleigh for a daughter-in-law and I tell you this, there is no one I would rather have.”
“You have always been so good to me, Harriet. I have told Leigh about Carlotta.”
She nodded.
“It makes no difference. He still wants to marry me.”
“I should not think much of him if he did not.”
“He says that in time she should come to live with us.”
She took my hand and pressed it. “He’s right. Oh, isn’t this a lovely solution to our little drama? Wedding bells. It was always a popular finale. And so they lived happily ever after! That was always my favourite line.”
“A fairy tale ending,” I said. “But life is not a fairy tale.”
She looked at me sharply and again I had that impulse to tell her about Beaumont Granville. I must not. Nobody must know. I promised myself that I was going to forget he had ever existed. I was going to wipe out the memory of that night forever.
Leigh had to go to London. He would not go to Court but he would frequent the coffeehouses there where it was possible to pick up the latest news, for in these shops men of the Court, soldiers, politicians, wits and gossips, gathered and talked together with the utmost indiscretion.
I didn’t want him to go. I was afraid that something would happen to him. With every passing day I realized how important he was to me. I was even beginning to see that what had happened with Jocelyn was not the grande passion I had imagined it to be. Jocelyn had been a handsome boy in danger. We were alone on an island … two young people … and we had loved in a natural way. It happened so quickly. We were in love and we knew we could quickly be parted, so we foolishly snatched at those moments. We had talked of marriage. For a night we were as married people. Now I began to wonder what would have happened if he had escaped, if we had married. I was realizing that this growing emotion I felt for Leigh was strong and steady, unwavering, the sort of love I had seen between my mother and father. It was the true love, the love of endurance which nothing could change … not the flimsy stuff which is airy romance.