That marriage had been like a net around him. I dreamed that we were free. But how could we be free? Yet in my dreams some miracle happened and he was there with me at Tressidor. The two estates were as one.
What a wild dream! But dreaming has always been a consolation when one wants to escape from reality. The loss of two people whom I had loved very dearly was too hard to bear without some solace. One had brought me Tressidor, the other Livia, it was true. That was the way one must look at life. One must remember the consolations.
Gwennie came to see me often. I wished she wouldn't. Her inquisitive eyes seemed to probe into my mind.
"What a tragedy!" she cried. "They say the number of people who die having babies is more than you'd think. Your poor sister . . . and she left the little girl to your care. I said to Betty" (that was the lady's maid with whom I understood she gossiped a great deal) "I said, 'I reckon Miss Tressidor will be a mother to that little girl. She ought to have some of her own.' I've often wondered why you haven't married, Caroline. But then, of course, it's a matter of finding Mr. Right. If he doesn't come along . . . well, what's a girl to do?"
Her bright eyes studied me intently. What of you and my husband? I imagined she was thinking. How far has that gone?
I wondered what she knew. It was a fact that one often betrayed one's feelings when one was quite unaware of doing so.
Time passed quickly. Livia was growing into a person. She was walking rather than stumbling; she was beginning to talk; she used to run to me every time I went to the nursery and I was thinking about getting a pony for her when she was a little older. There was some time to go but I took her for rides on my horse round the paddock, holding her tightly while she squealed with delight.
Nanny Loman said to me one day: "That child is happier than she ever was in London. Oh, I know she was young but she wasn't getting the attention. Her mother was ill all the time. We did what we could but there's nothing like a mother, and you're being that, Miss Tressidor."
It was the highest praise I could have and for a few hours my melancholy lifted and during that time I did not think of how much I missed Cousin Mary and that I should never see Olivia again.
Within a month of our arrival Jeremy wrote that he wished to see his daughter.
I could not refuse him. I made up my mind to see as little of him as possible, but when he came I felt I wanted to taunt him. I knew it was unkind of me; I knew that I should not have revelled in revenge; but I had to do it. I had to soothe my own sorrow and I could not allow him to flaunt his role of grieving husband, devoted father and would-be friend, for those were the roles he was determined to play. He was false and I could see clearly what lay behind that facade of charm; but I wanted to trick him as he had tricked me ... and Olivia.
I took him riding round the estate. I spread it out before him, as it were, in all its affluence. He could not keep the excitement out of his eyes.
"I'd no idea it was so extensive," he said.
I thought, Then you have now, my worldly Jeremy. What plans are being formulated in that greedy little mind of yours?
I took him to call on the Landowers. Gwennie liked him for he charmed her with the utmost ease. Paul was suspicious and, of course, jealous, which did not displease me.
He stayed for a week and during that period he spent a certain amount of time in the nursery. He had brought a novel toy for Livia, a doll on a swing which could be made to rock back and forth.
I was a bit hurt to see how easily she was charmed by him, but he was playing a part for her as well as for the rest of us.
When he left he held my hands for a long time and said: "How can I thank you, Caroline, for making my little girl so happy here."
I said: "Olivia wished it. Before she died she spoke to me. She wanted to make sure that I and no one else had the child."
"She knew what was best. Thank you, my dear. Thank you." It could have been very touching, but I told myself I knew him too well to believe in his gratitude.
He kissed me swiftly. "I must come again," he said. "Soon." And I fancied I saw the plan which was beginning to form in his mind.
He did come again before another month had passed. There were more presents for Livia. He himself took her on a horse round and round the paddock. She demanded that we both hold her—one on either side.
He looked across at me. "This is fun, Caroline," he said.
I nodded.
He was trying to make me look at him. I knew what was in his mind.
And then the plan came to me and once it had come I could not rid myself of it.
I used to think of it at night. When the melancholy descended upon me, when I was going over and over the early days with Olivia, when I remembered that Cousin Mary was gone forever, when I thought of Paul and how everything might have been different, I brooded on what I thought of as The Plan and my spirits rose.
It was an indication of my nature, I supposed, which was not a very admirable one, that this was the only thing which could assuage my grief.
He came for Christmas, which I gave over entirely to Livia. I did not entertain. It was not expected of me as Cousin Mary had not been dead a year. I told Jeremy that he should not have come. He would find it dull in the country especially in a house which was still in mourning.
He, too, was mourning, he told me, at which I wanted to laugh aloud; but I did not. I looked suitably sad and sympathetic.
I was playing my part carefully—softening, not too quickly but gradually.
We both knelt on the floor and played games with Livia. She was delighted with him—and again I felt that twinge of jealousy. Nanny Loman said: "They always feel that for a parent. No matter how neglected they are, they seem to know their father or mother. That's when they're very little. After four or five it changes. Then they love those that love them."
Miss Bell was a little abrupt with him. She blamed him for Olivia's pregnancy, which she had maintained more than once, with pursed lips, should never have been allowed to happen.
How time was passing and how glad I was that it did so with such speed! Olivia had been dead for six months and Livia had been mine for that time.
It was during that Christmas that Jeremy made his first approach —tentatively, of course, but with a skill which I would have expected of him.
He said he thought Livia was lucky in spite of having lost her mother. She had found a new one in me ... and none would have guessed she was a semi-orphan.
"When I see you with her I rejoice, Caroline."
"I do my best to carry out my promise to Olivia and it is not difficult. I love Livia."
"I can see you do. It warms my heart. It's a great privilege for me to be able to come here."
"I am sure you would rather be in London."
"How wrong you are! It is the greatest pleasure for me to be where you are, Caroline. I often think of the fancy dress ball. Do you remember?"
"Vividly," I said.
"Cleopatra."
"And Rupert of the Rhine."
He looked at me, his eyes shining, and we laughed.
He was too clever to pursue it from there but I was aware of his intentions.
He said: "I shall come again . . . soon, Caroline. You don't mind, do you?"
"I understand you wish to see your daughter."
"And . . . you."
I bowed my head.
He was there again before the end of January. He was no laggard once he had made up his mind on the course to take. I had to grant him that. He wrote frequently, begging for news of Livia's progress. He was the ideal father.
In February he was with us again, facing the rather cold train journey and some delays due to ice on the line.
"What a devoted father you are!" I said when he arrived.
"Nothing would have kept me away," he replied.
During that visit he made more steps forward.
We were on the nursery floor fitting together some simple jigsaw of animals in which Livia indulged wit
h great delight.
He said: "This is how it should be ... the three of us. It's like a home."
I didn't answer and he put a hand over mine. I let it lie there. Livia leaned against him and he put his arm about her.
Before he left he found me alone in the little winter parlour and he said: "Perhaps it's a little too soon, Caroline, but I always felt this was how it was meant to be. I am sure Olivia will understand if she can look down on us. You see ... I always loved you."
I opened my eyes wide and looked at him.
"It was a mistake," he went on. "I realized almost as soon as I had broken it off."
"A mistake?" I said. "I thought you showed great wisdom . . . pecuniary wisdom."
"A mistake," he went on. "I was young and ambitious . . . and foolish. I soon realized that. It's different now. I'm wiser."
"We all grow wiser, Jeremy."
He took my hand in his and I did not remove it.
When he left I went with him to the station.
He said: "I shall be back again very soon. Caroline, you're here in this place. It is not the life for you. You should have children. You're so wonderful with Livia. I feel I could be a good father . . . when you're around. It makes a happy little circle. Don't you agree?"
"Oh yes," I said.
"It's too soon to make plans yet perhaps ... but for the future ... We could be happy, Caroline. It's how it was meant to be."
I was silent.
He construed that as agreement.
Riding back in the trap I felt more alive than I had for a long time.
It was a lovely spring. I felt my sadness was passing a little. The earth was waking to a new life—it was the buds on the trees and the song of the birds. Myself too.
I felt I might put the past behind me and I could make some sort of life for myself.
April was a lovely month. "April showers bring forth May flowers," I quoted to myself. I was beginning to live again.
When Jeremy arrived he took both my hands in his. "You look wonderful, Caroline. Your old self. You're Cleopatra once more."
"One grows away from sorrow," I said. "It's no use nursing grief."
"How wise you are! You were always wise, Caroline. I think I am the luckiest man on earth."
"And you a widower of less than a year!"
"I am going to put grief behind me. That is what Olivia would wish. I know this is what she would wish."
"It is always comforting to have the approval of the dead," I commented.
"I think she knew . . . that was why she wanted you to have Livia. She was quite wise in some ways."
"I am sure she would be most gratified, if she is looking down, at such faint praise."
"I always liked that touch of asperity in you, Caroline."
I was silent.
He went on: "I can't tell you how happy I am. It is like seeing a light at the end of a tunnel."
"A rather well-used simile," I said.
"But so apt."
"I suppose that is how these comparisons become cliches."
"Why are we talking like this? There are so many more important things to discuss. I suppose we shall have to wait for a year. I do think conventions can be tiresome."
"Very tiresome," I agreed.
"We'll have to have a quiet wedding. Never mind. I rather fancy we shall have the approval of Lady Carey."
"I have never worried very much about Aunt Imogen's approval— which is as well for it rarely came my way."
"You're so amusing. I can see life is going to be fun for us. Livia and I are two very lucky people."
I smiled at him.
He went on talking of the future. He felt that the country was no place for me. There would be a great deal to clear up. He thought about making enquiries about the actual market value of great estates. He was sure he would have a very agreeable surprise for me.
I was aghast, but I merely smiled at him and he went on talking about life in London, the amusing people I must be missing.
"Dear Caroline," he said, "you were whisked away just as life was beginning to get interesting for you. What fun that ball was! You just had a brief taste and that was all. We are going to alter that!"
I was surprised at myself. I was more silent than usual, for I could not entirely trust my tongue. I listened to him and he must have thought how much love had softened me. He preened himself a little. He was exceptionally handsome.
There was a great deal of talk in the neighbourhood. I imagined Gwennie was having a very busy time.
I gleaned a little from the servants and I could guess how tongues were wagging.
One day Paul came over to Tressidor. I was in the flower room which was just off the hall. It was a very small room, rather like the one we had had in the London house, in which there was a tap and a sink and some benches and vases.
Daffodils and narcissi which I had just gathered lay on the bench, and he walked in looking very angry.
I said: "What is wrong?"
"Is this true?" he demanded.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you going to marry this man? You must be mad."
"Marry?" I queried.
"This man who gave you up once and has now decided you are rich enough to suit him?"
"Oh . . . you mean Livia's father."
"He may be Livia's father but he is also a fortune hunter. Can't you see that?"
"I see a great deal, but there is one thing I fail to see and that is why it should be a concern of yours."
"Don't be absurd. You know it is a concern of mine. I thought you were a sensible woman. I've always had a great respect for your intelligence, but now . . ."
"You're shouting," I said.
"Tell me this isn't true."
"Tell me what you would do about it if it were?"
He looked at me helplessly. Then he said: "Caroline, you must not
I turned away from him. I could not help the joy which came to me to see his concern and I did not want him to know how deeply it affected me. He was beside me. He took me by the shoulders and turned me round to face him. "I'd do anything . . . anything ... to stop it."
I put up my hand and touched his hair gently. "There isn't anything you could do," I said.
"I love you," he answered. "I shall not go on like this. I shall find some way. We'll go away together . . ."
"Go away! Leave Landower. That was what it was all about, wasn't it?" ,
"I wish I could go back. What a silly thing to wish! As if one ever can. But you must not do this, Caroline. Think what it means. You've always been so independent, so much a person in your own right. Don't change. Don't give way to this. I suppose he is very attractive, isn't he? Good-looking . . . saying what women want to hear . . . But can't you see what he's after? This child is here . . . and you're obsessed by her, obsessed by the prospect of motherhood. Oh, Caroline, you can't do this. I won't let you."
"What would you do to prevent me?"
He had bent me back and was kissing me passionately on my throat and my hair and my lips. I felt I wanted this moment to go on forever. I would remember it always, the scent of daffodils and Paul there expressing his love for me ... desperately, ready to do anything . . . just anything so that we could be together.
I withdrew myself. I said: "You shouldn't be here like this. Any moment one of the servants might see you."
"I'm tired of this," he said. "Something must be done. I shall never let you go. I've got to do something. I'm desperate, Caroline. I've never let life get the better of me yet and I never will. And this is the most important thing that has ever happened to me."
"As important as saving Landower for the Landowers?"
"More important than anything in my life."
"You can't do anything about it, Paul. It's too late. You saved the house. I know how you felt. It had to be done . . . that was how you saw it. It can't be undone now."
"There must be a way out. I'll ask her to release me."
"She never w
ould. Why should she? It's part of the bargain. She loves Landower. She loves her position. She bought it. It's hers and she will never give it up ... any of it."
"There will be a way . . . and I will find it."
"Paul, you frighten me a little when you talk like that. There's a look of fanaticism in your eyes."
"I am fanatical . . . about you."
"You are jealous because you think I will take someone else."
"Yes, I'm jealous. I won't stand by and see you do it. It's the child, isn't it? That's changed you. You want to make it right for her ... or what seems right and cosy. You want children. Of course you do. You're seeing everything differently. I've noticed the change in you since you came back from London."
"Wouldn't you expect me to change? I loved my sister. I know I didn't see her often but she was always there. We were very close to each other and she has left me her dearest possession . . . her child. Wouldn't you expect me to change?"
"Caroline, my love ... of course I understand. But it's too big a price to pay. You think it will all be neatly rounded off, but it won't be like that. A marriage that is wrong for you is just about the biggest tragedy that can happen, and it doesn't make it any easier to bear because you have brought it on yourself. Don't seek an easy way out ... as I did. Learn from me. I have seen you and him and the child together. It looks idyllic and you think it is the answer. It isn't, Caroline. My darling, I am not going on like this. I've been thinking of it . . . I've thought of nothing else . . . night and day. We're being foolish. We've got to do something. This love of mine for you . . . and I believe you could feel deeply for me too ... it can't be ignored any longer."
"My dear Paul, what are you suggesting?"
"If you can't have exactly what you want . . . take what you can?"
"What does that mean? Furtive meetings? Where? In some inn a few miles away . . . holding secret meetings ... I don't think either of us would be very happy."