“Have you tried it?”
“I have not seen it yet. It has only just been brought to England. But I intend to at the first opportunity.”
And so we walked and passed our days most happily, for she had brought with her not only the clothes she had made for my baby and new recipes for my tasting, but that sense of comfort which only she could give me.
She brought back memories of my father and young Damask who had so wanted to come with her, and had made a doll for the baby. My father had insisted that messengers be sent as soon as my baby was born with word that I had a fine healthy boy. Edwina, who now had her own little boy and wanted everyone to know of her contentment, sent affectionate messages. It was like seeing them all.
I was very happy during those last days and even the apprehension which must come to a woman who is about to have her first child was stilled by my mother’s presence.
It was not a difficult labour and to my intense delight I gave birth to a healthy boy.
I had never seen Colum so overjoyed. He snatched the baby from my mother and marched round the bedchamber with him. Then he came and stared down at me. I thought I had never been so proud and happy in my life.
I had reached the summit of happiness. I had my beautiful son whom we named Connell and he delighted me in all ways. I marvelled that this perfect creature was my own son and I rejoiced in him doubly when I saw Colum’s pride.
If he had been out, as soon as he returned to the castle he would go to the child’s nursery and satisfy himself that all was well. He would pick up the boy and lift him high in the air. Jennet and I would say that it was no way to treat such a young baby but Connell did not seem to mind. If he were crying—and he had a lusty pair of lungs and a strong temper—he would stop when his father lifted him up even when he was very young. As he grew a little older it was clear that he was fascinated by his father.
I was delighted. I loved to see the joy Colum found in his son.
And I had given him to him. I sometimes marvelled that this boy of ours should have been conceived in such a manner. I think Colum did too. But there was nothing that could have made him happier than the possession of this son.
My mother stayed with me for a month after the child’s birth and then she thought she should return to Lyon Court. She had young Damask to look after. Next time she came, she said, she might bring her, although she thought she was a little young to make the journey. My father had set out on the first of his trading voyages and would be home, she believed, by Christmas. We must all spend Christmas together. It was unthinkable that we, living so near, should not. I must persuade Colum to come to Lyon Court but perhaps because of the baby they should come to us.
We said goodbye. It was September and a touch of autumn already in the air. The mornings were misty and the sea calm but grey. I thought that at Lyon Court they would soon be gathering the apples and pears and I remembered how we had done it the previous year and stored the fruit in the apple room.
I watched her ride away for as long as I could see her. She did not look round. I fancied there were tears in her eyes. But she had confessed herself well pleased with the way in which everything had turned out. I think she was comparing me with herself and perhaps on consideration she could say her marriage had been a happy one.
I wished that we were just a little nearer. If Castle Paling had been as near Lyon Court as Trewynd Grange was how happy I would be! The fifteen miles or so which separated us just made frequent visits not so easy to achieve.
The christening of Connell was a great event. There was a big christening cake and Colum had asked a great many guests from the surrounding country. People whom I had never met before came to the Castle and there was feasting and revelry for two days and nights.
I was living in a dream of happiness and it seemed as if Colum was too. The beauty of the ceremony in the castle’s Norman chapel touched me deeply. My son wore the christening robes which had been worn by several generations of Casvellyns and I wondered whether the husband of Ysella and Nonna had worn them.
Colum had chosen the godparents—friends of long standing, he said. Sir Roderick Raymont was one—a man I did not take to—and another was Lady Alice Warham, a handsome woman who came to the castle with a meek husband several years older than herself.
Lady Alice carried my son to the font; and the ceremony was performed beneath that vaulted roof with its Norman archway and its massive supporting pillars of stone.
Connell was good and uttered no protest but I felt a great desire to snatch him from the arms of the woman who held him. I did not know why this fierce jealousy came over me and I knew I would be glad when all the visitors had departed.
When the ceremony was over and the cake had been cut and the baby had been admired by all, I took him to his nursery and gloated over him and I felt I was the most blessed of women, to have married in such an unusual manner and to have found a husband who excited me more than any other person ever had, and to have my union with him crowned by this blessing of a child.
The guests lingered for a few days and it was during their stay that I made a discovery.
The great hall, which was rarely used when there were no visitors, was now the centre of our entertainments. All through the day there came from the kitchens the smell of roasting meats and many of the inhabitants of Seaward were pressed into service. “You see,” said Colum to me, “there are occasions when we need these servants.”
I asked him if he entertained frequently, since we had not done so during the first months of our marriage.
“I did not wish it then,” he said. “I wanted to have you all to myself. Moreover I thought it might be bad for the child.”
“Will these people think it strange that there was no celebrations of our wedding?”
“It has always been my way to let people think what they will,” he answered, “as long, that is, as it does not offend me.”
Then he talked of the boy and how he was much more advanced than other boys, how he believed that he would grow up into a fine Casvellyn and he could scarce wait to see it.
“As he grows older,” I said, “forget not that you will also do so.”
“And you, wife,” he reminded me.
Then he laughed and held me against him and I was very happy knowing him to be content with our marriage.
I think that was the last time I was entirely contented, for it was that night that I learned something which had not occurred to me before.
It was Lady Alice who began it, and I wondered after whether she did it purposely. I asked myself whether she sensed my complete abandonment to pleasure and, being envious of it, sought to destroy it.
We were at table. The venison was particularly delicious, I was thinking, done to a turn. The rich golden pastry of the pies was appetising and the company was merry. Colum, at the top of the table, flushed and excited, basked in the pride he felt for his son.
I was thinking to myself: May he always be as happy as he is now and may I, when Lady Alice said: “You have made your husband a very proud man.”
“It is a wonderful thing to have a child.”
“And so shortly married. You are indeed fortunate.”
Her eyes were enormous—great dark eyes, not quite as dark as Colum’s. I did not recognize the malice in them then.
“Colum, I know, is beside himself with joy. I am not surprised. When you remember the past disappointments …”