She pondered that awhile and then she said that she thought madness lay that way.

“I should get too fond of them … and then they’re too old to need you. It’s like having a family all over again. I must say though. Madam, it’s good to have a little one in the house.”

If I were going out, I used to tell Mrs. Pollack. There was an unspoken agreement between us that I wanted her to keep an eye on Julian, for I did not want to leave him entirely in the care of Nanny Benson who might nod off at a moment when she should be looking after the child.

Mrs. Pollack was the soul of tact. She understood and took pride in the trust I placed in her. She was well repaid by Julian’s obvious appreciation of her, when he grew old enough to express it.

One night, when Julian was only a few months old, I was worried about him as he had developed a cold. It was only a slight one but the smallest thing wrong with him sent me into a panic.

I awoke in the night. It must have been soon after three and I felt I must make sure that he was all right. I went into the nursery. He was restless, flushed and breathing heavily.

I could hear Nanny Benson’s rhythmic snoring in the next room.

The door was open but she was in such a deep sleep that I was sure it would take a great deal to wake her.

I seized the baby and, wrapping him in a blanket, I sat cradling him in my arms. I stroked his hair back from his forehead and as I did so he ceased to whimper. I went on stroking his head for he seemed to derive much comfort from my touch, and from the back of my mind came memories of those other occasions when my hands had seemed to have a healing effect. I could see my old ayah’s face clearly. What had she said?

“There is power in those hands.”

I had not believed her. Now I thought of what I had read in the books which Stephen had given me. It was true that in a society like ours we were apt to dismiss that which was not what we could call logical. But there could be other ways than ours, other cultures. Sir Richard Burton and the strange Dr. Damien had hinted at that. It was to discover these things that they had set out on their wild journeys.

Now my thoughts were all for soothing my child, and I did so so satisfactorily that soon he was sleeping peacefully, his breathing normal, his face less flushed.

I sat with him through the night. I should not be able to sleep if I left him. So I just sat there happily holding him in my arms and becoming a little more certain that there was some power in my hands.

My ayah had said that it was a gift from the gods and such gifts should be used.

It would be a wonderful thing to save life. I could understand in a way why men like Dr. Damien were ready to do anything in their thirst for knowledge. In his case, I read, it was to discover how certain substances could be used for the benefit of the sick. That sounded noble. But there was an arrogance about him which came through in his books, and I believed that he took an immense delight in the adventures which came his way savouring a hundred sensual mysteries in the name of furthering medical science, which made me suspicious of the man especially since Amelia had more or less warned me against him.

I wanted to learn more about this strange healing power which might be mine.

The next morning, when I returned to our bedroom, Aubrey said: “You look worn out. What on earth happened?”

“Julian wasn’t well in the night.”

“Couldn’t Nanny B. look after him?”

“She was snoring all night. The child could be in convulsions and she would know nothing about it.”

“Well, I hope you are not going to make a habit of these nocturnal wanderings.”

“No. I am going to have the cradle moved into this room so that I can be near him.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Indeed it is not. And I am going to do it.”

He shrugged his shoulders and it was done.

Julian was fretful in the night and Aubrey said it was an impossible situation, and either I moved out of the room with the cradle or he would.

I thought it was only fair that I should. There were plenty of rooms in the Minster.

So I had the cradle moved to one of them and there I slept.

I don’t think either Aubrey or I was greatly disturbed by the fact that we now occupied separate rooms. I know I slept in peace knowing that my mother’s instinct would wake me immediately if Julian needed me.

A year sped by. It was entirely taken up with Julian. Julian’s first smile; Julian’s first tooth; his first word, which I was delighted was Mama. There were cosy chats with Mrs. Pollack when we discussed Julian at great length and he crawled about the floor playing with the empty cotton reels she found for him, rolling over the floor, clapping his hands when we clapped ours to show approval for his little achievements. He took his first tottering steps across the short space from her knees to mine, smiling up at us with triumph when he fell against us. They were wonderful moments which I would treasure for ever.

I was now and then aware of a certain exasperation in Aubrey’s manner.

Now that mourning for Stephen was officially over, he wanted to entertain his friends. I naturally had to take part in this; but I did so without much enthusiasm. They were not the sort of people who greatly appealed to me. Their main topic of conversation concerned hunting, fishing and outdoor sports with which I was not very well acquainted.

After those dinner-parties Aubrey now and then expressed his disappointment in my performance.

“You were scarcely the sparkling hostess.”

“They talk about such trivial things.”

“Trivial to you, perhaps.”

“They never talk politics for one thing … the change in the government, the coup d’etat in France with Louis Napoleon making himself absolute head of the French government…”

“My dear girl, what has this to do with us?”

“Everything that happens in this country and those close to us must affect us.”

“You are a regular bluestocking, my dear. Do you know that is one of the less popular brands of woman?”

“I wasn’t thinking of attractiveness, just a little interesting conversation.”

He looked at me with cool distaste.

“Of course,” he said, ‘you have grown accustomed all your life to looking down on people. “

This was a reference to my height which he did not seem to like, for if I wore high heels I would stand above him. It was a symptom of his growing feelings against me, for when you dislike people you pick on certain points which normally would not be noticed.

He thought my devotion to our child was unworthy of our class. We had servants to do what I insisted on doing myself. I believe he thought it showed a lack of breeding in taking so much on myself. Then there was my inability or refusal to form friendships with his friends; and now even my height.

I took Julian to see my father and we stayed with him for a week. That was a happy time. He delighted in the child and Jane and Polly revelled in having him to look after.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if you came and lived here, Mrs. St. Clare,” they said.

And I knew my father agreed with them.

I heard from Amelia. She was happier in Somerset.

“Making a new life,” she said. It was pleasant to be near Jack and Dorothy. She obviously spent a great deal of time with them for they figured often in her letters and perhaps particularly Jack.

On Julian’s first birthday the cook made a cake with one candle on it.

The servants came in to wish him a happy birthday and he thoroughly enjoyed that.

It was soon afterwards that Louie Lee arrived.

I had taken Julian for his outing in the gardens in his push chair and when we came in I went up to the nursery. A young woman was there. She was opening the cupboard doors and looking into them as I came in.

I stared at her.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

She said: “Oh, you’re the mistress, are you? Thought so.”

“What are you doing here?” I repeated.

“Will you please explain?”

“I’m Louie. I’ve been took on for the nursery … to help Aunt Em.”

Aunt Em! That was, of course. Nanny Benson. I had discovered that her name was Emily.

“I have not engaged you.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

Nanny Benson came in.

“Oh, this is Louie,” she said.

“She’s come to give a hand. It’s a bit much for me, as I was telling Mr. Aubrey. I said there’s our Louie and he said bring her.”

So Aubrey had engaged this young woman without consulting me! I looked at her intently. Her hair was bright gold a little too bright for nature; her big blue eyes were bold too bold for modesty; her nose was small and her long upper lip gave her a kittenish look. She did not appear to be the kind who would be an efficient nurse.

“My brother’s son’s girl,” said Nanny Benson.

“Well, there’s too much for me in the nursery now our little man is growing up so fast… and there was Louie looking for something.”

I was dumbfounded. I wanted to tell the girl to pack her bags and go taking Nanny Benson with her. I wanted to arrange my own nursery. It was for me the most vital part of the house and it was more than I could endure that it should be in the hands of a woman who was more often than not in a state of somnambulance brought on by lashings of whisky, taken in tea though it was and now she had brought in this brazen-looking girl.

I waited for Aubrey to come in.

I said: “What is this about engaging a nursery maid Louie someone?”

“Oh, she’s Nanny Benson’s niece or grand niece or something.”

“She is unnecessary.”

He looked at me ironically.

“I thought it would relieve you a little.”

“Relieve me! I don’t want to be relieved.”

“No. You enjoy playing nursemaid, I know. But as mistress of a house like this, you should realize your position. There are other duties.”

“My child is more important to me than anything else.”

He looked bitter.

“You make that abundantly clear.”

“He is your child as well.”

“One would hardly think so. You monopolize him. You hate anyone else to go near him.”

Was that true? I wondered. Julian was of paramount importance to me and I saw everything as it related to him.

“You are free to be with him when you want to,” I said.

“I imagine you do not like young children very much.”

“Well, I have engaged this girl.”

“But I won’t have her.”

“And if I will … what then?”

“You can’t …”

“My dear, I can do what I like in my own house. You have to change.

What do you think my friends feel when they come here? You are not interested in them and you show it. “

“That girl must go,” I said.

“No,” he replied firmly.

“She stays.”

“What use do you think she will be in the nursery?”

“She will relieve you of the child.”

“I don’t want to be relieved. Nothing is going to take my child from me.”

“Please dispense with the histrionics. What’s the matter with you, Susanna? You married me, you know.”

“I am aware of that. But I thought I had a right to choose my own nursery maid.”

“You have no rights which do not come through me. Perhaps it would be as well for you to remember that. This is my house. I am the master here. Your authority comes through me and I say the girl stays.”

We regarded each other with cold dislike.

I knew that I was witnessing the disintegration of my marriage.

Very soon the last shreds of hope that we could ever be happy together were dispersed.

There was a truculence about the girl Louie Lee which gave me a clue as to what was going on. She had that air of insolence which can come from people who think they have a rather special place in the household. And how could Louie Lee be in such a position? Surely because she had found favour with the master of the house.

Her nursery duties were negligible; and I did not quarrel with that.

If I must tolerate her in the household, I did not want her near my child. In fact Julian was hardly ever in the nursery and rarely if I were not there. I certainly would not have him left alone either with Nanny Benson or her distant relative.

I supposed Nanny Benson had been adequate enough when she had been Stephen’s and Aubrey’s nanny, but the years’ growing addiction to whisky faintly camouflaged by very little tea, I imagined had scarcely improved her efficiency. As for Louie Lee, she had no talent for the post whatsoever.