Филиппа Карр: The Love Child

I certainly enjoyed hearing about her life.

“It seemed as though it would go on and on and never change,” she said. “I saw myself growing older and becoming exactly like Mrs. Connalt … dried up, shrivelled like a walking corpse who is really finished with life and somehow continues to make the motions of living. Joyless, seeing sin in pleasure… .”

I thought how strange it was that she should refer to her mother as Mrs. Connalt-as though she rejected the close relationship between them.

I was beginning to understand her. She was attractive in appearance in an unusual way and more than normally clever; she had yearnings for a more interesting life and she felt frustrated. She hated being patronized by the Westerings; she was a lonely person because there was no one to love her, no one to whom she could explain her feelings.

I was glad that she could talk to me, yet I was sometimes aware of that strange resentment towards me which I sensed was often present, though she sought to hide it.

Two weeks after her arrival my parents went to our house near Whitehall to be present at several Court functions.

“It must be most exciting,” said Christabel. “How I should like to go to Court.”

“My mother doesn’t really care for it,” I answered. “She only goes because my father likes her to.”

“I daresay she feels she must be with him.” Her lips tightened a little. “A man like that…”

I was puzzled. I thought she implied some criticism of my father, and I had known for some time that he had an effect on her. She was always uneasy in his presence.

I wondered why since he had taken the trouble to bring her to the house, and if she was happier with us than she had been in her rectory home-and it was hard to imagine that she could be less so-then she owed that to him.

Our days slipped into a routine-lessons in the morning, riding or walking after the midday meal and then a return to study about five o’clock. It was dark then and we would sit in the candlelight and she would usually spend the time questioning me on the morning’s study.

I asked her once if she were comfortable in our house and she demanded angrily: “Why should you think I am not? This is the most comfortable house.”

“I am glad,” I said.

“You were one of the lucky ones.” She spoke resentfully, and although I could not see the tightening of her lips I knew it was so.

One afternoon we went riding, and on our return, as soon as we came through the gates and into the stables, I knew something had happened. I was aware of a bustle of activity before I saw the horses. I thought at first my parents were home. Then I realized that it was not they who had returned. I half guessed and excitement possessed me.

I could scarcely wait to get out of the saddle and hurry into the house.

I heard their voices and called: “Leigh! Edwin! Where are you?”

Leigh was at the top of the stairs. He looked magnificent in uniform. He was so tall, with rather gaunt features and wonderful blue eyes which contrasted with his black hair, just like his mother’s. These eyes lighted up when they saw me, and I felt a glow of excitement which coming upon Leigh unexpectedly always gave me.

He dashed down the stairs and picked me up in his arms, swinging me round and round.

I called: “Stop it. Stop it.” He did stop, and taking my face in his hands gave me a smacking kiss on the forehead.

“You’ve grown,” he said. “Yes, you have, fair coz.”

He always called me “fair coz.” He had heard the term somewhere, and when I protested that we were not cousins and not even related, he retorted: “Well, we ought to be.

I’ve seen you grow up from an ugly little brat to the lively little sprite you are today. You were like a little monkey when you were born. I really thought you were one and then you grew into a gazelle, my own fair coz.”

Leigh talked like that, rather extravagantly. Everything was either wonderful or terrible. My father used to get impatient with him, but I rather liked it. The fact was that I liked everything about Leigh. He was the perfect big brother and I used to wish he were my real one. Not that I did not love Edwin. I did. Edwin was meek and never hurt anyone if he could help it. He was courteous to the servants. They were devoted to him naturally, but the women preferred Leigh, I knew.

Leigh was now aware of Christabel, her face slightly flushed from the exercise and her dark curls only very slightly ruffled under her hard riding hat.

I introduced them and he bowed gallantly. I was very much aware that Christabel was assessing him. I did not want to mention then that she was the governess, I would tell him that privately. I felt she resented having to work for us and would like to be mistaken for a guest… if only for a short while.

“We have been riding,” I said. “When did you get here? Is Edwin with you? I thought I heard his voice.”

“We came together. Edwin!” he shouted. “Where are you? Priscilla is asking for you.”

Edwin appeared on the stairs looking very handsome-more so than Leigh really, though less tall, less robust. My mother had always feared for his health.

“Priscilla!” He came towards me. “How good it is to see you. Where is our mother?”

He had turned to Christabel.

“Mistress Connalt,” I told him. And then to Christabel: “My brother. Lord Eversleigh.”

Edwin bowed. His manners were always perfect.

I said: “They are at Court.”

Edwin lifted his shoulders to register disappointment.

“Perhaps they’ll be back before you go. Can you stay awhile?”

“A week… perhaps longer.”

“Three … four…” suggested Leigh.

“I’m so glad. I’ll have your rooms made ready.”

“Don’t worry,” put in Leigh, “Sally Nullens has already seen us and is running round in a flutter. She is so pleased to have her little darlings home.”

“You know what nurses are, Mistress Connalt,” said Edwin, “when their charges return to the fold.”

He had realized that Christabel was uneasy and aloof and was trying to put her at ease. I knew that she was glad her status had not been revealed, although it would have to emerge eventually.

“I never had one so I can’t say,” she said.

“So you escaped that bondage,” put in Leigh lightly.

“We were too poor,” Christabel went on almost defiantly.

I felt uncomfortable and that I had to explain. “Christabel has come here to teach me. She lived in a rectory in Sussex.”

“How is Carl getting on at the rectory?” asked Edwin. “And where is he, by the way?”

“Out in the summerhouse, most likely, playing his flageolet.”

“Poor lad! He’ll be fro/en to death.”

“At least we are spared the fearsome noises he can make,” said Leigh.

“What were you proposing to do?” asked Edwin.

“We were going to wash and change and then it will be suppertime.”

“We’ll get out of our uniforms,” said Leigh. He grinned from me to Christabel. “I know they make us look devastatingly handsome and you’ll suffer a shock at the transformation, Mistress Connalt. Priscilla is used to us, so I don’t have to prepare her.”

I was glad he was trying to draw Christabel into the family circle. She reminded me of a child dipping her feet into water-wanting to plunge in and not daring to.

I studied them in their felt hats with the glorious plumes falling over the sides, their elaborate coats, their knee breeches, their shining boots, their swords at their sides.

“Quite handsome,” I said, “though not devastatingly so, and we know it is only the uniform that makes them so, don’t we, Christabel?”

She smiled and looked beautiful then. I could see that between them they had managed to charm away her resentment.