“Then? I drank and the haziness came over me … Everything seemed to slip away. I was aware of him. I think I knew he lifted me up and carried me. Then I woke and it was morning and I knew what happened.”
She was silent, and her arms tightened about me.
“I have been so frightened,” I added.
“You should have told me before, Linnet. But never mind, I know now.”
“What can I do?” I asked.
She stroked my hair. “Never fear, we’ll find a way. When your father knows he will go to Castle Paling. It could be the end of one of them.”
“Yet he …” I began.
“Yes,” she said. “Yet he. But men are illogical. What he will think an ordinary occurrence for himself is a violent outrage when performed by others. You are his beloved daughter; it is the daughters of others who may be ill-used.” She laughed, a sad bitter little laugh; and she went on stroking my hair. “I wish you had told me before, dearest. I cannot bear to think of your keeping this to yourself. How was he … this … man in the morning?”
“He laughed at me. He said that I had not resisted him. He said I had joined him in a merry bed and it was as much my wishing as his.”
“He is indeed a scoundrel. You must hate him.”
“I do, and …”
“I think I understand,” she said. “Do you remember anything of what happened during that night?”
“I am not sure. Is it possible that I could not be sure?”
“I think it is. But that night is over. Nothing can alter what happened then. You are carrying his child. You are sure, Linnet?”
“I think so, Mother.”
“We must make sure. But I would not have anyone know of this yet … not even my physician. What we have to think of is what we can do. You are unmarried and pregnant, and the man who wishes to marry you is not the father. If only it had been Fennimore, but Fennimore would not have behaved so.”
“He is quite different from Fennimore.”
“That man,” cried my mother. “His arrogance in the inn and everyone afraid of him. A plague on these men who think everyone in the world is put there to serve them. But let us think what must be done. That is of the utmost importance to us now, Linnet. There are herbs, of course. Maggie Enfield could have given them, but alas is hanging on her gibbet, poor soul. There are others but I fear that sort of thing, Linnet. It is not for you. Fennimore is a good man. He is a tolerant man and that is rare. I had set my heart on your marrying him.”
“I cannot do that now.”
“It is not impossible. What if we told him the truth?”
“You mean you would ask him to father another man’s child?”
“If he loves you, he would.”
“I could not ask him to do that.”
“I could explain what had happened …”
I shook my head. “It is impossible, Mother. Colum Casvellyn would know the child was his. On that morning he hinted that I might already be with child.”
“The man is indeed a devil.”
“He would not let it be forgotten. He lives too near. He might want the child … if it were a son.”
“That could be so,” said my mother. “There seems to me but one thing. You must go to London. I will take you to my mother. She will care for you and the child can be born there. It can be said that you are a widow whose husband is recently dead. It’s so far away none will be able to prove otherwise. My mother will be delighted to care for you and the child. You will be happy there.”
“And leave you?”
“The time comes, Linnet, when mothers and daughters must part.”
“And you wanted me to marry Fennimore that we might always be quite near.”
“Not only that, Linnet. I wanted it because I felt that Fennimore is a good man who would be kind to you. I longed to hear you say that you were betrothed.”
“So might we have been but for that night.”
“Your father must not know. I fear that man. I feared him when he strode into the inn. I had an uneasy feeling that he was going to bring some evil to us. When we left the inn that morning I felt such an immense relief that it seemed out of all proportion to what had happened. Now I understand it. If we had only taken a different road.”
“You can always say that of life, Mother. It is always a matter of taking the wrong or the right road.”
“Now we must be sure to take the right one. I’m glad you have told me, Linnet. Together we will find the solution to this. But there must be little delay. No one here must know that you are pregnant. It is early yet.” She calculated swiftly. “It is not yet two months. If we go to my mother we must do so within the next month.”
“What will my father say?”
“We shall have to be very careful with him. He is expecting an announcement of your marriage to Fennimore. He will not understand this sudden desire to go to London and may well oppose it. That could delay us. You know his impatience. Now he has decided to throw in his lot with the Landors he wants you wedded and providing him with grandsons to continue with the business when they come of an age to do so. It is the best way, Linnet. In fact I think it is the only way. You might of course tell Fennimore. He would be discreet. No one can blame you. And who knows he might be ready to marry you.”
“I couldn’t, Mother, not with the child.”
“You would grow used to the idea. Perhaps it would be best.”
“Please do not tell him.”
“We will not act rashly although we must not delay too long. This has been a terrible shock and I need time to think. Dearest Linnet, I do not want you to go to my mother. To lose you would break my heart, for I should see so little of you and we have been together all your life. Yet it seems to me the best solution, unless of course Fennimore …”
“I am so relieved that you know,” I said. “It seems so much easier to bear now.”
“We will find a way out, darling,” she said. “Together we will find the way.”
The way was found for us. A few days after I had told my mother, Colum Casvellyn came to visit us. I was in my bedchamber sewing a button on one of my gowns when Jennet came in very excited.
“He’s here,” she said. “He’s come to call.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The one who rescued you and brought you back.”
I felt my knees tremble.
“This can’t be so.”
“Oh yes, ’tis so, Mistress. He rode into the courtyard like as though he were master here and he leaped down and shouted to one of the grooms who stood gaping at him. Then he saw me and he said: ‘Go tell your mistress, your young mistress, she has a visitor.’”
“You are sure it is this man?”
Jennet blushed in that foolish coy way as though she were a young girl instead of an experienced woman in her forties.
“Oh yes, Mistress, there be no mistaking him.”
I said: “Bring him into the winter parlour. I will join him there.”
She was off with all speed. I thought: I should find my mother. It would be better if we saw him together. But no, I wanted to see him alone first. I wanted to test my feelings for him.
I could scarcely wait to reach the winter parlour. He was already there, standing with his back to the window, legs apart in that arrogant manner which was characteristic of him and suggested that he was the owner of everything in sight.
“Good day to you,” he cried, smiling broadly. He strode towards me and taking both my hands drew me towards him and kissed me on the mouth.
I flushed hotly and drew back in dismay.
“Coy?” he said. “Reluctant? Oh no, not after all we have been to each other.”
My heart was beating so fast that I could not find my voice. I was filled with uncertainty. I had never felt this overpowering emotion before. It was a hatred, I supposed; but I was not entirely sure.