Oakland had not changed. Why should it because I had been to Australia and fallen in love and come near to death, when it had stood for hundreds of years and had no doubt witnessed as many tragedies and comedies?
Miriam had a child now.
“She’ll live to rue the day,” said my grandmother.
My grandfather was a little bolder than he had been, and the whip with which my grandmother had scourged him had lost some of its sting since I had brought Oakland back to the family in a way, and because Xavier had now married Lady Clara and was managing the Donningham land.
My grandmother was quite respectful to me and most interested in the child who was to be born at Oakland-a gesture with which she entirely agreed. She even took to Joss after the first few skirmishes. I think she recognized some power in him which it would be impossible even for her to subdue.
She used to say: “Well, he received a large part of his education in England,” as though that made him acceptable; and the fact that he had brought Oakland back to the family made him almost admirable in her eyes.
My son was born on a mellow September day in the vaulted chamber where my ancestors had made their first appearances.
This was the culmination of my happiness. I sat up hi the big four-poster bed and looked out on those lawns which had mellowed for hundreds of years and I had a feeling that I had come home; and yet I was well aware that nothing was half as important to me as the rich and full life I should live with my husband and son.
Joss came and looked at the baby, marvelling at the tiny creature as though he couldn’t believe he was real. Then he turned to me.
“Ifs good, eh ?” he said.
What? ” I asked.
‘life,” he answered.
“Just life.”
“Ifs good,” I agreed, ‘and going to be better."
“Who can be sure of that ?” he asked.
“I can.” I retorted.
“And I will. ”