Christmas had passed almost unnoticed and the New Year was upon us. A wet nurse had been found for Master Thomas and he gave little trouble. He was a contented child, healthy in every way and a great delight to both his parents.
This was what Christabel had needed all her life—to be loved. She was ready enough to give love in return and I have never known any woman more contented with her lot than Christabel was with hers at that time.
One cold January afternoon when the north wind was buffeting the walls of the house and it was comforting to be sitting before a warm fire, she confided in me.
She said: “How strange life is, Priscilla. Only a short time ago I had nothing. The future looked bleak. I dreaded it. And then suddenly everything changed. Happiness such as I had never dreamed possible came to me.”
“That is life, Christabel. It’s a lesson, I suppose. One shouldn’t ever be too despondent.”
“Or too elated, perhaps.”
“I don’t agree. When we are happy we should live it fully at the time and give no thought to the future.”
“Is that what you thought when you were on the island with Jocelyn?”
“I didn’t consciously think it. I suppose I was just happy to love and be loved by him. I accepted that moment and did not think beyond it.”
“With what consequences!”
I said: “I would not be without Carlotta for anything.”
“I understand that, Priscilla. I’m rather wicked, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, nonsense! What are you talking about?”
“I don’t deserve all this.”
“Of course you do. It wouldn’t be yours if you didn’t. Do you think Thomas would be so completely in love with the sort of person you’re trying to make out you are?”
“I’m different with him. I loved him from the moment he was so charming about the coat. He loved his first wife but she couldn’t give him children, and now we have little Thomas. He is so happy about it. He always wanted children and now he has a son. He says he can’t believe all this could come to him because of a piece of slippery ice.”
“Well, it has come and now all you have to do is appreciate it and keep yourselves happy.”
“I intend to. I wouldn’t do anything to spoil it.”
“Then don’t talk of spoiling it. Don’t even think of it.”
“I won’t. But I can’t be completely happy until you have forgiven me.”
“I forgive you? For what?”
“I was envious. I think I sometimes hated you. You were so kind to me, yet I couldn’t stop it. I was fond of you often, but there was this strong resentment inside me. It was horrible. It was so strong it made me want to harm you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was so conscious of being the outcast, the unwanted one, the child whose existence had been an embarrassment … like something you hide under a stone. To be put out by your parents, Priscilla, is heartbreaking to a sensitive child. I never had any love at all. The Connalts had none to give to anyone. They were the worst possible foster parents for a child like myself.”
“It’s all over, Christabel. It’s done with. You’re out of it. You have your son and your husband who adores you, and you have this lovely home. Never mind what you suffered to get here … you’re here now and it’s going to stay this way.”
“You will understand me, Priscilla, I know, but let me confess. It will ease my conscience.”
“Very well. Confess.”
“There was a horrible need in me to humiliate you as I had been humiliated. You were the legitimate daughter, I the illegitimate one. I have a very unpleasant nature, you see. I knew what was happening between you and Jocelyn. I knew how innocent you were. I knew how people feel when they are desperate. We were going on the island, remember … all three of us. Then I pleaded a headache and I didn’t go. I knew it was going to be misty. One of the gardeners told me. I deliberately let you go alone … the two of you.”
“But why?”
“It occurred to my devious mind that what would happen was what did. My mind was twisted. Envy does twist the mind. It’s the deadliest of emotions. It hurts the one who feels it more than the one it is directed against. Somehow I believed that it would happen as it did. You were two desperate people and it was inevitable that you should snatch at a few hours of happiness while you could. I did not think there would be a child, but this, of course, was a possibility. You see how my mind worked. I am really evil. And that I should have worked against you who have always been so kind to me …”
“Is that all your confession?” I asked.
She nodded. “Isn’t it enough?”
I kissed her. “Please forget it, Christabel. I knew it long ago. Carlotta is so important to me that I cannot brood on how she came to be here. I can only rejoice that she is.”
“It would have been better for you to have married Leigh. He loves you. Then you could have had children and they would have been with you. There wouldn’t have been all this secrecy.”
“You have always built up trouble, Christabel. You look for it. You look for slights. I noticed that from the first. Edwin upset you.”
“I never really cared for Edwin. I know that now. I just wanted to escape from my poverty and insignificance. Edwin is weak. I like strong men.”
“And now you have your husband and child. Be happy, Christabel. You must be happy. You must make the most of what life has given you. If you don’t, you might lose it.”
She shivered and I put a shawl about her shoulders.
“I am wicked, Priscilla,” she said. “If you only knew …”
I kissed her.
“No more of this morbidity. Shall I ask them to bring young Thomas in?”
She held out her hand to me and nodded.
When we returned to Eversleigh Court a shock awaited us.
My father was pacing up and down the hall, clearly in a state of tension and excitement.
“What has happened?” cried my mother.
“The King is dead,” he replied.
My mother put her hand to her heart and turned pale.
“Carleton, what will this mean?” she whispered.
“That, my dear, remains to be seen.”
“What are you going to do?”
“That also depends.”
“Oh, God,” prayed my mother fervently, “don’t let this mean trouble.
“It was not unexpected,” she went on. “Of course he has not been well of late.”
“No,” added my father. “For a year or more he has been unwell and not the man he was. He was so full of health before that, tiring his friends out at walking and sport. But of late he has been mildly irritable … so rare before with him. I think I saw it coming, but not so suddenly as this.”
“He is not old. Fifty-five is not an age to die.”
“He has lived too well perhaps. He has had the appointed span albeit he has packed into less years more than most men do.”
They were talking round the real issue which was how would Monmouth act now, and more important still, what did my father intend to do?
My father went on talking about the King’s death, how the evening before he became ill he had been in the midst of the company and seemed well enough. He had supped with his concubines—the Duchesses of Portsmouth, Cleveland and Mazarin—and had given them many caressing displays of affection as was his wont. There had been the usual gambling and music, and they had all been enchanted by the singing of a little French boy who had been sent over by the courtesy of the King of France.
The King had visited the apartments of the Duchess of Portsmouth and had been lighted back to his rooms, where he had joked in his usual benevolent manner. The gentleman-in-waiting, whose duty it was to sleep on a mattress in his room along with the spaniels which were the King’s constant companions, had said that the King had groaned in his sleep and when he arose did not seem well. He had taken a few drops of the medicine he had invented himself and which was called “The King’s Drops.” My father had had it given to him on more than one occasion and the King had described the ingredients to him: they were opium, bark of elder and sassafras all mixed up together in wine. Fifteen drops of this in a glass of sherry was considered to be a cure for all ailments. It had failed to cure the King, and when his servants were shaving him they were horrified to see his face grow suddenly purple, his eyes roll to the ceiling as he lolled forward in his chair. They could not understand what he was trying to say. They thought he was choking. He tried to rise and fell back into their arms. They feared death was imminent.