Филиппа Карр - Daughters of England

"A great deal can happen in one year," said Maggie, "let alone five or six." And there was a faint anxiety in her voice.

As the winter progressed, I believed I knew that I was never going to be strong enough to act again. My cough persisted. My weakness lingered too long. I would sit at the window of my bedroom and look down on the cobbles below. I heard the cries of the street traders and the sound of the carriages rolling by on the way to the theater. I was no longer part of it. I thought often of the days when I had first come here and how exciting I had found it all. I often dreamed of those days when I was happiest of all and when Jack had taken me from that house in Knights-bridge to his lodgings.

I would relive it all again, giving it my own ending. He was my true husband and we lived together in harmony in his splendid country house with Kate, our eldest daughter, and her brothers and sisters.

A foolish dream, remote from reality. But when the future is a little frightening, it is comforting to dwell in fantasy rather than face stark reality.

Then a strange thing happened. We had a visitor.

Maggie came to my room.

She said: "He wants to speak to you. He is below."

"You mean ... ?"

She nodded. "Yes. Jack Adair. He asked to see you."

"Oh, Maggie."

"I think you should. If you refuse, he will go away. He says he does not wish to disturb you. Til bring him up, shall I?"

I nodded, and a few minutes later she brought him to my room.

He looked at me with great tenderness and I felt that lifting of my spirits which he could always bring about.

"You will have much to say to each other," said Maggie. "I shall leave you together."

When we were alone, he came to the bed and sat on it, facing me, and then took my hands in his.

"Sarah," he said, "I am so sorry it was the way it was."

I said ruefully: "How could it have been otherwise?"

"I thought we should go on being happy together, even though ..."

"No," I said. "That was impossible."

"I have come to ask you to forgive me."

I was silent.

"I knew you would find it hard to do that. I did not realize that it would have meant so much to you. I thought we could have come to some arrangement. You see, I was not free ... and I wanted you so much. Can you understand that?"

I nodded.

"I acted ..."He paused and I finished it for him.

"You acted as so many men of your acquaintance would have done in such circumstances. I know that. It was a prank ... an amusement. You would have set me up in a house, I know, and you would have been my lover for as long as it amused you to be so. But it was not the life I could live."

"I should have known that, and I am asking you now to forgive me.

"Well," I said, "it is a long time ago. And now I understand why you did it, so perhaps I do forgive you."

He kissed my hands.

"I love you, you know, Sarah. I always did."

"If one truly loves, does one trick and deceive?"

He was silent, but he looked very penitent.

"Then there is Kate," he said.

"I know. You have paid for her education. You have seen her. You are trying to win her affection. Have you told her that you are her father?"

"No," he said. "I would not do that without consulting you."

"Is that what you have come here to do?" I asked.

"No. I have come because Christobel has told me of your illness. You know that she has been seeing me."

"I was very shocked when I saw them coming out of your lodgings."

"Yes, I know. Oh, I am sorry it has gone this way, Sarah. Kate is an enchanting child. I am proud to claim her. What I wanted you to know was that if ... if there came a time when you needed me ... when Kate needed me ... I shall be there."

"You mean you would care for her?"

"I do."

And in that moment I realized that which I had not accepted until this moment. I was more ill than I had allowed myself to believe.

Christobel knew this. She had imparted it to him. He wanted to reassure me that I need not fear for Kate if I were no longer there to care for her.

I thought of Kate ... without me. Maggie was aging. Christobel was young and energetic. But Christobel was employed by Jack, not us. And I thought: If I were gone, he would be there to care for her.

I looked at him steadily and he said: "You can trust me, Sarah, this time."

My mother died on the first day of spring in the year 1678. I suppose it should not have been unexpected, for she had been ill for some time, but it was a great shock to us all nevertheless, and we were a bewildered and desolate household when the blow fell.

We had been so close, all of us, my mother, Maggie, Christobel and myself. Even the servants had been like members of the family. I had grown up in that happy atmosphere and, with the thoughtlessness of the young, expected it to go on forever.

The other day, when I was sorting out my mother's possessions—a task which I found heartrending, with its perpetual reminders of the past, and which I could not attempt until some little time had elapsed after her death—I found her notebooks in which she had recorded the events of her life from the time when she was living on the estate which her father managed, and her coming to London with Kitty Carslake and becoming an actress. I read, too, of her meeting with my father and how she went through a mock marriage with him. I was glad that I had already heard of this, for he had told me of it.

And later the urge came to me to continue with the story, and when I am old I shall read it and I shall be able to recall her as clearly as she was to me all those years before.

Perhaps, though, I shall not carry this out. But at the moment, I tell myself, I will at least attempt it.

I can never think back to the time of her death without experiencing a deep emotion. I recall so clearly that terrible realization that I should see her no more and that a life which had gone on smoothly for years could suddenly change so tragically.

Poor Maggie was completely devastated. For a time she lost that bold and rather domineering attitude toward the world. She was just bewildered and utterly miserable. I understood her feelings, for I shared them.

Christobel was a great comfort to us both at that time.

She was practical and made us eat when we had no desire to do so. She made us consider the everyday life around us which must continue, whatever tragedy we had to face. We were indeed a house of mourning.

About two weeks after my mother's death Lord Rosslyn called. He was shut in the parlor with Maggie and was there for over an hour. I was very disappointed when he left without seeing me. I stood at my window, watching him go, feeling deflated and hurt.

Almost immediately there was a tap on my door and Martha came in. She said Maggie wanted to see me at once.

I ran down to the parlor. Maggie was sitting there, looking very solemn.

"Come and sit down, Kate," she said. "I have something to say to you."

I did so and she looked at me very sadly, and went on: "You have known for some little time that Lord Rosslyn is your father. You will also know that he lives in a very different manner from the way we do."

"Yes," I said.

"I suppose, too, you have some idea of the nature of his ... er ... relationship with your mother. You are very young as yet."

"I shall be eleven in June."

She smiled at me rather wanly. "Still young, Kate. But you are grown up for your years."

"I do understand what happened, Maggie."

"Well, it has created this unusual situation. If your mother had lived ..." Her voice quivered and she was unable to go on for a moment or so, but she quickly recovered her calmness and resumed. "It would have been a different matter then. But she is no longer with us. There is only myself."

I went to her and put my arms about her.

"Oh, Maggie, dearest Maggie, do not say only. While I have you I shall be all right ... and I have Christobel too."

"My dear child, life does not stand still. I am getting old and more feeble every week. That brings me to what I have to say. Lord Rosslyn, your father, wants to take you into his care."

I stared at her in amazement. "Leave here!" I said. "Oh, Maggie!" And I clung to her.

"He will not snatch you away against your will. Do not be afraid. He knows what we mean to each other. He will not come here and carry you off forcibly. He would want you to go to him willingly."

"But how? When?"

"We have to think about this, Kate. We have to be sensible. You know how I care for you."

"Oh, Maggie, dear Maggie, and I for you."

"I know that, my dear. But look at me." She held out her hand. The fingers were enlarged and misshapen. "We cannot defy time, dear child. You see, it is catching up with me. I shall not be here forever."

I was staring at her in horror. What did she mean? I had just lost my mother. Was she going to die too? A feeling of intense loneliness came over me.

She went on: "There would be a home for you. It would be different from this. You know how careful we have been, and you have seen how quickly life can change. It is doing that all the time. This is your home. It always has been and it is dear to you. You are young to have to face such reality, but it is there nonetheless. We do not know from one day to another what will happen. Your father cares for you. He is a rich man and can do a great deal for you. He is willing to do this. But he does not want to force you to leave here if you do not wish it."

I hugged her. "Maggie, dearest Maggie, I am going to stay here with you. I shall look after you. I will care for you."

"Dear child, that would not please me at all. What I want more than anything—what your mother would have wanted—is to see you settled, your future secure. Your father can do far more for you than any of us here could ever have done. He understands how you feel about this, your home, but you must think of what he offers. He will take you away from here. Oh, it does not mean that we shall never see each other again. He will bring you on visits to London and then you will come to see me. You will live a different sort of life—a life which is more suited to his daughter. It will be better for you. Far, far better than anything you could know here."

"To leave you and Christobel?"

"No, not Christobel. Christobel would go with you. She would remain your governess and companion."

"But, Maggie, I could not leave you."

"Dear child, I am getting old, you know."

"That is all the more reason why I should not leave you."

"It is what your mother would have wanted for you."

"She would never have left you."

"Before your mother came here with Kitty I was alone, Kate."

"You cannot be alone now."

"Your father does not ask you to decide immediately. He wants you to think about it. He knows that you are sensible; he also knows that you are affectionate. But he wants you to look at this clearly. He wants you to have something of the life you would have as his daughter."

"But it is not quite the same, is it? Not like being his real daughter."

"You are his daughter, whichever way it is considered," said Maggie. "He is fully aware of that and he is fond of you. You might decide not to go to him now, but in the future I am sure you would come to regret that."

"Why did he not see me? Why did he go away like that?"

"He wanted you to make the decision yourself. He wants you to go to him freely."

"Perhaps he is hoping I will not and he will then be released from the responsibility."

"Kate! You say you will be eleven in June. You talk like a cynical woman of twenty-five."

"But if he wanted me badly he would have told me himself. He would have persuaded me."

"He may do that. But what he very much wants is for you to go to him of your own accord."

"He forgets that that means leaving you."

"He does not forget it at all. That is why he wants you to decide."

"I never thought of this. I thought ..."

Maggie took my hand and looked into my eyes.