Deryn Lake: Death and the Black Pyramid

The lodge keeper was new and looked at him with a certain suspicion. ‘Can I help you, Sir?’

‘I have come to see Lady Elizabeth di Lorenzi.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No, not exactly. She wrote and asked me to visit. I am an old friend.’

‘I see. Well if you go up to the big house you can enquire there whether she is in.’

‘Thank you,’ John answered crisply, and feeling that he had done his duty by the horse, remounted and urged it up the curving, uphill drive.

As he rode the last few yards, the house now in sight, his throat went dry and he felt as nervous as a schoolboy. The last time he had been there had been in the spring of this year and Elizabeth had not been at home, gone to Bath for the sake of her health, or so he had been informed. He had taken that as her way of telling him that she had no further wish to see him. He recalled the time he had proposed to her and how she had turned to look at him, her long black hair blowing about her face. He also remembered her refusal, saying she preferred a life alone even though she was fond of him. She could hurt him, there was no doubting that. And yet out of a clear blue sky she had written to him, asking him to come to her, informing him that she had something of interest to tell him. Wondering what on earth it could be, John dismounted at the front door and handing the horse over to an hostler, mounted the six steps which led up to it.

A footman answered the bell and fortunately recognized John from the past.

‘Ah, Mr Rawlings, Sir. Is my lady expecting you?’

‘Yes and no. She wrote and asked me to visit her and here I am. But I didn’t inform her of the date of my arrival.’

‘I see. Would you like to wait in the parlour and I will see if she is at home.’

John stepped into the vast reception hall and gazed upwards. There, painted high above his head, was a representation of Britannia waving a spear. Smiling indulgently he traversed the large space, following the footman, and was shown into a small parlour leading off the Blue Drawing-room. His mind wandered over the difference in their stations in life. She had been born a daughter of the nobility, he the bastard child of one of the Rawlings family of Twickenham. She had married an Italian nobleman and had lived a wild and dangerous life. He had qualified as an apothecary and had found his excitement through working with Sir John Fielding. At that moment John realized with a horrible clarity that he could never offer Elizabeth the life to which she had been used and that he may as well leave now.

There was a noise in the doorway and John, turning, saw that the woman who filled his thoughts was standing there. He rose and bowed.

‘Madam.’

She walked towards him, smiling her delicious smile. ‘Sir,’ she replied.

And then John looked at her properly and his heart plummeted before it rose again and started to beat wildly in his chest.

She laughed then, throwing her head back and chuckling.

‘Don’t look so shocked,’ she said. ‘As you can see, my dear, I am quite definitely with child.’

John stood gaping at her, hardly able to take in what Elizabeth had just said to him. Then he realized several things simultaneously. Firstly that judging by the stage of her pregnancy — probably about four months in his professional opinion — he was undoubtedly the father. Secondly that she was dangerously old to be carrying a child. And thirdly, and most happily, that this event would surely draw them closer together once more. He cleared his throat and spoke.

‘Elizabeth, my dear. I had no idea. Why did you not tell me before?’

She gave a careless laugh and sat down, motioning him to do likewise. ‘I did not want to bother you with it.’

He leant across the distance between them and took her hand. ‘That was wrong of you. It is my child as well. You should have written straight away.’

‘Well, I didn’t. In fact it went through my head to say nothing until after the birth. But then I thought how upset you would be and I changed my mind.’

‘And thank God you did,’ John answered fervently. He knelt down in front of her. ‘My darling, is there anything I can do to help?’

She burst out laughing and he saw then that the forthcoming child had not changed her at all, that she was still as wild and free as she had always been.

‘I think you’ve done that already, my friend,’ she said, and laid a careless hand on her rounding.

John decided to match her mood. ‘And very pleasurable it was too,’ he said, and gave his lopsided grin.

She changed the subject. ‘What time is it?’

John looked at his watch. ‘Just gone three o’clock.’

‘Then we shall have an early dinner. And now if you would be so good as to escort me I should like to walk in the gardens. I have forbidden myself riding — though only temporarily, I might add — so walking is my only form of exercise.’

He stood up, brushing at his knees, thinking to himself that she really was the most extraordinary woman he had ever met. Where the majority of her sex would be moaning and grumbling over an unwanted pregnancy she was treating the whole thing with immense sang froid. As they walked together out into the formally laid-out grounds with stunning views as far as the eye could see, he decided to challenge her. Leaning close to her he asked a question.

‘Tell me, do you want to have this baby?’

Her lovely topaz eyes, on a level with his own, looked into his with a direct gaze.

‘Yes, of course I do. You know that my son died, killed by that wretched group of young men who called themselves The Angels?’

‘You have told me the story often.’

‘Well, now that I can feel life growing inside me once more I long for the day when I can hold the child in my arms.’

John stopped walking. ‘Elizabeth, will you marry me? I cannot bear the idea of our child being born a bastard.’

‘Rather than a proposal you could have said that you love me desperately and have thought of no-one else in the months we have been apart.’

‘Stop playing games with me,’ the Apothecary said, very slightly irritable. ‘You know I love you and you know how much. And if you don’t you should. Besides, if you remember, I asked you to be my wife a long while ago.’

‘Yes, I do remember,’ she answered, her whole manner changing. ‘And I know it is not just to give our child a name. But, my own dear John, I cannot say yes. I no longer wish for married life.’

‘Not even for the sake of the child?’

‘No, not even then.’

It was useless to argue further. John realized that if he wanted peace and harmony between them he must content himself with the fact that his second child would be born a bastasd. But then, he reflected, he had been illegitimate and had not had too bad a life of it. In fact, all things considered, it had been relatively happy if one discounted the tragedy of Emilia’s end and the time when he had gone on the run. He sighed, and Elizabeth, mistaking the cause of it, took his hand and held it firmly.

‘It is not that I don’t love you in return, my friend. It is just that I love my freedom more.’

‘And will you allow me to see my child? Am I to have access to her?’

‘Or him.’ Elizabeth said with a smile. ‘Of course. You will be free to come and go as you please. As you always have been.’

‘You have no wish to give the baby to me to bring up?’

She looked fractionally annoyed. ‘No, no wish at all. This child will comfort me in my old age and give meaning and direction to my declining years.’

‘I’m sure it will,’ John answered, just a trifle sadly. ‘Tell me, when is it due?’

‘In February. It will come with the early lambs.’