I was eager to get away, for I was feverishly anxious to read those letters.

Marie-Christine said, as we rode back to the inn: “Fancy living there like that! What a strange man! He was interesting about Desiree. Daisy Ray. Clever, wasn’t it? What about those letters? I can’t wait to see them.”

“He wanted no one to see them but me, Marie-Christine. They are my mother’s intimate letters.”

Her face fell.

“Do understand, Marie-Christine,” I begged. “There is something sacred about them. And I have promised.”

“But you will let me know what they tell?”

“Of course I shall.”

As soon as we arrived at the Dancing Maidens, I hurried to our room. Marie-Christine said, with admirable tact, that she would go for a walk for an hour or so. I appreciated that, for I knew she was consumed by curiosity.

The letters were undated, but had been placed in chronological order, I realized.

My dear, dear Ennis [ran the first],

How wonderful! So at last you are being brought out of your hiding place. At last you are going to be recognized for the genius you are. So, having seen your Dancing Maiden, some London art dealer is interested in your work. It is a beginning. Aren’t you excited? Of course you are. I am. But you will say, “Nothing is certain. We must wait and see. ” I know you, Ennis. My dear one, you have spent too much of your life waiting and seeing. But this is wonderful! I always thought those models you did of the stones were very good. And the one you did of your very own Dancing Maiden, a work of genius!

But the important thing is that you are coming to London. I shall see that you stay in the right hotel … and it is going to be near this place. Then we can be together when you are not with your important dealer. I am not rehearsing yet. His lordship, Donald Dollington—Dolly to us—is teetering on the edge of embarkation on a new production. At the moment he is in a state of nerves, appealing to the Almighty not to send him completely mad, and not to allow the continuation of the torture he is receiving from those who are determined to obstruct him. It’s a game he always plays at times like this. So if you come next week, rehearsals won’t have begun. We can talk and talk. It will be like old times.

I await your arrival with the greatest joy.

Your very own Dancing Maiden,

Daisy

I took up the next letter.

My dear, dear Ennis,

What a wonderful week! I bless that dealer, though he turned out to be such a miserable old thing, and when you wouldn’t let him have your Dancing Maiden he wasn’t interested. It was sweet of you to insist on keeping it … but you shouldn’t have. Let it go, Ennis! It might have meant commissions and things. You are an old idiot! It was wonderful to be with you … to talk as we used to. Did it bring back the old times ? There is no one I can talk to as I do to you. It was like being back in Meningarth … only instead of talking about the beginning of the journey, I am now halfway there. Ennis, do try to understand this compulsion to get to the top.

Parting was so sad. But you will come up again. I know what you will say … but it wouldn’t work. And I know you ‘d hate it here. You’ve no idea what it’s like leading up to the first nights … and there is nothing … nothing but the play. It has to be like that, and you ‘d hate it. You would really.

I have many good friends here. They understand me. The life suits me. I could never leave it.

So things must stay as they are. But let us remember that wonderful, wonderful week.

Loving you, as always,

Daisy—your Dancing Maiden

The next letter was more revealing.

Ennis, my dear,

I have something to tell you. It happened during that wonderful week. At first I didn’t know what to think. Now I am living in a whirl of delight. I know now that it is what I have always wanted. I did not know it until now. It will always be as though part of you is with me.

You know what I am going to say. I think I am going to have a child. I am hoping it is so. I shall write again as soon as I am sure.

My love to you,

Daisy—the D.M.

The fourth letter said:

My dearest Ennis,

No. It is quite out of the question. It simply would not work, as I have told you so many times. It would mean giving up everything I have striven for. I could not do it. Please don’t ask for what is impossible. I could not bear our relationship to be spoilt, as it would be. Now I am so happy.

Ennis, let us be content with what we have. Believe me, it is the best for us both.

My love, as always,

Daisy—D.M.

I took up the next letter.

Ennis, dear,

I am singing with joy.

It is true. I am to have a child. I am so happy. Dolly is furious. He’s thinking of his new play. What is the use of putting me in the lead? Before long I am going to be prancing round like an elephant. I told him elephants didn’t prance; they galumphed. He shouted: “What do you think this is going to do to your career? I suppose it is Charlie Claverham’s. Or is it Robert Bouchere’s? What a thing to do to me, just when I’m thinking of going into production!” Then there was the usual appeal to God. You can’t help laughing at Dolly.

Oh well, nothing … just nothing … can disturb my bliss.

Loving, as ever,

D.—D.M.

I took up the next letter.

Dearest Ennis,

All is going well. Yes, I will let you know.

I am going to have everything of the best for him/her … I don’t care which. I just want it. Charlie Claverham is amusing. He thinks it is his. Forgive me, Ennis, he has always been such a very dear friend. He could give a child of his anything, just anything. He is a very good man, Charlie is. One of the best I have ever known. He’s honourable and honest … and he is very rich. So is Robert Bouchere … but he’s a foreigner, and I’d rather have Charlie. Oh, I’m running on. I was just thinking, if I were to die suddenly. You never know. It hadn’t occurred to me before, but when there is a child to think of, it’s different.

I can’t think of anything but my baby.

Don’t worry, and you certainly mustn’t think of sending anything. I can manage perfectly. I am doing very well, and Charlie is, of course, making sure that I have every luxury.

I’m strong and healthy. I’m not old. I’ve seen the doctor, and he says he reckons I’ll be perfectly well after a couple of months … able to dance again.

Oh, Ennis, I just can’t wait. I know everything is going to be wonderful.

Love to you,

DM.

The next letter had obviously been written some time later.

Dear Ennis,

She is here. She came on Christmas Day, so I am calling her Noelle. She is adorable … everything is in perfect order, and I love her more than anything on earth. I shall never leave her. Dolly fusses and says his hands are tied. He wants me in his next production, but do I think he can wait forever while I go on playing Mother. I told him Mother was the best part I ever played, and I’m going on playing it, to which he replied that I am a sentimental idiot and will I wait until I have had some experience of looking after a squalling brat? Then I was angry. I said: “Don’t dare call my little girl a brat!” To which he replied sarcastically: “Oh, she will be different from all the other brats, of course. She’ll be singing Traviata before she’s a year old. ” Dear Dolly. He is not so bad. And I think he likes her. I do not know who could not love her. She knows me already, of course. Martha pretends she’s a nuisance, but I have seen her at the cradle when she thinks I’m not looking. I heard her say the other day: “Didums wants its mummy, then.” Didums! Martha! Just imagine! But you don’t know Martha. She’s the last person you’d think would ever even look at a baby. What use are babies in the theatre? But my Noelle can charm even her. As for the servants, they are overcome with joy and are vying with each other to look after her. Life is bliss.

Love, D.M.

And the last letter:

Dearest Ennis,

All is well. She grows more adorable every day. The best Christmas present I ever had. I’ve said it a thousand times, and I’ll say it thousands more.

Ennis, you must forgive me for this. I am letting Charlie believe she is his. Don’t feel too hurt. It is for the best. We have to think of her. She must have everything. I could not be happy if I thought it should ever come that I died and left her. I won’t have my child knowing poverty as I did. I won’t have her put out … as I was … into unloving hands. I know you would love her … but you couldn’t give her what she must have … and Charlie could … and would. In fact, he has sworn he will. He loves her … particularly as he believes she is his. Believe me, Ennis, it is the best. He would look after her if I asked him, but it is better to have the closer bond. Perhaps I’m wrong … but right and wrong have always been a bit hazy to me. I want what is best for my child, whether or not some would consider it wrong. It’s right for me … and for her, which is all that matters to me.

Trust you to think about registering the birth and all that. There may be this new law about putting it in at Somerset House. I’m not doing it, Ennis. I am not putting in writing that she was born out of wedlock. There are some who might sneer at her over that. I’m not having my child sneered at. I know a bit about that from my own experience.