She had not engaged a lady's maid after my marriage. Doll did certain duties for her and often I went along to dress her hair for some special occasion. One day when she and Justin were dining with the Hemphills I went to her room, as I had promised, to do her hair for her.
I knocked gently on the door but there was no answer, so I opened the door and called "Are you there, Judith?"
There was no reply; then I saw her: she was lying on the bed, on her back, her face turned up to the ceiling.
"Judith," I said. Still she did not answer; and for a second or so I believed she was dead and the first thought which came to my mind was: Now Justin will be free to marry Mellyora. They will have a son and he will take precedence over mine.
Now I had an obsession too: my son.
I approached the bed and I heard then a heavy sigh. I saw that her eyes were open.
"Judith," I said. "You remember I promised to come to do your hair."
She grunted and going close I bent over her. I saw that her cheeks were wet,
"Oh ... Kerensa," she murmured.
"What has happened"
She shook her head.
"You re crying."
"Why shouldn't it"?
"Something is wrong?"
"Something is always wrong."
"Judith, tell me what has happened."
"He doesn't care for me," she murmured in a slurred whisper and I guessed that she was scarcely aware of me; she was talking to herself. "It has been worse since she came. Does he think I don't see? It's clear, isn't it? They're crying out for each other. They would be lovers ... only they're such good people. How I loathe good people, yet...if they were, I'd kill her. Yes, I would. Somehow I would. She's so meek and mild, is she not? Such a quiet inoffensive little lady. So much to be pitied. Fallen on hard times. Her father dies and, poor young lady, she had to go out into the cruel world and earn her living. Poor poor Mellyora! Such a hard life! Such a need to be protected. I would protect her."
I said, "Hush, Judith. Someone will hear you."
"Who's there?" she asked.
"It is only Kerensa ... come to do your hair as promised. Have you forgotten?"
"Kerensa." She laughed. "The lady's maid who will now give us the heir. That is something else against me, don't you see? Even Kerensa, the girl from the cottages, can give St. Larnston an heir and I'm a barren barren woman. The barren fig tree! That is Judith. It is all dear Kerensa. We must take care of Kerensa. Is Kerensa in a draft? Remember her condition. It is funny, don't you see? A few months ago she was Carlee ... she was here on sufferance. And now she is holy, the mother-to-be of the sainted heir of St. Larnston."
"Judith," I said earnestly. "What is wrong? What has happened?"
And as I bent over her I knew, because I could smell the spirits on her breath.
Judith ... intoxicated, attempting to forget her misery in the whiskey bottle!
"You've been drinking, Judith," I reproached her.
"What if I have?"
"It is foolish."
"And who are you, pray?"
"Your sister-in-law, Kerensa, your friend."
"My friend! You're her friend. No friend of hers is a friend of mine. Kerensa, the sainted mother! It's been worse since you married Johnny."
"Have you forgotten you are dining with the Hemphills—you and Justin?"
"Let him take her. He'd rather."
"You are being foolish. I am going to order some black coffee. Pull yourself together, Judith. You are going to the Hemphills' with Justin. He will be here in an hour and if he finds you like this, he will be disgusted."
"He is already disgusted."
"Then do not disgust him further."
"He is disgusted by my love for him. He is a cold man, Kerensa. Why do I love a cold man?"
"I cannot tell you that, but if you want to turn him away from you, you are going the right way about it."
She clutched my arm. "Oh Kerensa, don't let him be turned away ... don't let him be."
She began to cry quietly and I said to her, "I'm going to help you. But you must do as I say. I shall order coffee for myself and bring it to you. It would not do for the servants to see you in this state. They gossip too much as it is. I shall be back soon; then I shall have you ready by the time you leave for the Hemphills'."
"I hate the Hemphills ... silly Hemphills."
"Then you must pretend to like them. That is the way to please Justin."
"There is only one way of pleasing him. If I could have a child, Kerensa ... if only I could have a child."
"Perhaps you will," I said, hoping with all my being that she never would.
"He is such a cold man, Kerensa."
"Then you must make him warm. You will not do so by getting drunk. That much I can tell you. Now lie there until I come back."
She nodded. "You're my friend, Kerensa," she said. "You promised you were."
I went to my room and when I rang the bell, Doll answered.
"Bring me some coffee please, Doll. Quickly," I ordered.
"Coffee ... er. Ma'am?"
"I said coffee, Doll. I have a fancy for it."
She went away then and I imagined them discussing my fancies in the kitchen. Well, a pregnant woman was supposed to have fancies.
She came back with it and left it in my room. When she had gone I hurried along with it to Judith. It was unfortunate that as I went in, Mrs. Rolt should suddenly appear in the corridor.
If they suspected then for what purpose I wanted the coffee, they already knew that Judith was drinking. It was very likely that they did, for how could she take whiskey from the house supplies without Haggety's knowing? He would eventually have to tell Justin if only to protect himself. It seemed, therefore, that she had only just begun drinking. In which case it might be possible to stop her.
As I poured out the coffee, as I made Judith drink it, I asked myself: How much do the servants know of our lives? How can we keep any secrets from them?
May was hot that year, a beautiful month as was fitting, I thought, for the entry of my child into the world. The hedgerows were ablaze with wild flowers and the blossom everywhere was wonderful.
Mine was not an easy labor, but I stoically welcomed the excruciating pain. I welcomed it because it meant that my child would soon be born.
Dr. Hilliard and the midwife were at my bedside while it seemed to me that the entire house was tense, waiting for the cry of a child.
I remember thinking that the agony of the walled-up nun could not have been greater than mine. Yet I exulted in my agony. How different it was from hers which was the pain of defeat, while mine was that of glory.
At last, it came. The long-awaited cry of a child.
I saw my mother-in-law with my baby in her arms; she was crying, that proud woman. I saw the tears glistening on her cheeks and I was afraid that something was wrong. My baby was crippled, a monster, dead.
But they were tears of pride and joy; she came to the bed and hers was the first voice I heard proclaiming the glad news.
"A boy, Kerensa, a lovely healthy boy!"
Nothing can go wrong, I thought. I have but to make my plans and my dreams become realities.
I am Kerensa St. Larnston and I have borne a son. There is no other male child to replace him. He is the heir of St. Larnston.
But I could be defeated in small matters.
I was lying in bed, my hair falling about my shoulders, wearing a white lacy jacket with green ribbons—a present from my mother-in-law.
The baby was in his cradle and she was bending over him, her face so soft with love that she was like a different woman.
"We'll have to think of a name for him, Kerensa."
She came to the bed and sat down, smiling at me.
I said: "I thought of Justin."
She turned to me in some surprise. "But that's out of the question."