“Yes,” I said, “I do see that.”

“And your answer?”

“I was unprepared for this.”

“I understand. You would like a little time to consider it. But of course. There is no hurry… except of course… the child.”

I went to my room. The last months had been so eventful that I wondered what would happen to me next.

Oh Joliffe, I thought, where are you now? Could I wait for him?

Could I go to him? What of my child? I must think first of the child. Indeed the child filled my thoughts excluding Joliffe. It was so painful to think of him. Would he ever come back to me? What if he did and I was married to his uncle? I pictured his reproaches and Sylvester’s standing by and explaining that it had seemed so convenient.

I had begun to picture what my life would be if I married him. It was an indication that I was actually considering such a possibility.

A marriage of convenience! Why did people talk about them with a faint touch of pity. Why should not a marriage of convenience be a happier union than one of sudden passion which was no marriage at all?

I wanted to forget Joliffe. Somewhere deep down in my mind born of my newly acquired knowledge of life, was the conviction that I must forget Joliffe. I knew Joliffe was not free; I did not believe Bella would ever release him; nor could I ever be quite sure of what I must expect from him. He was too charming; life had given him too much; he expected fortune’s gifts to be showered on him and he took them without asking himself what right he had to them.

Joliffe was a wonderful companion for a romantic-minded young girl, but was he for a serious-minded woman with a child to care for?

Moreover, I was not the same girl who had sheltered under the parapet in an enchanted forest with one of the gods come down from Olympus. Oh no. I was a woman in a difficult situation. I would be an unmarried mother and I had a child to plan for.

In this house I could look after my child as my mother had looked after me. Sylvester Milner had been a fairy godfather to us. He was still, for he was putting a proposition to me which could solve my troubles.

What if I did not marry him? Could I stay here? Perhaps. But my child would have no father. Sylvester had offered to become that. With such a father the child’s future would be assured.

I was not a romantic girl. I was about to be a mother. My child must be my first consideration.

I knew then that I was going to accept Sylvester’s proposal.

II

Mrs. Couch was delighted and Mr. Jeffers said you could have knocked him down with a feather. Mrs. Couch could never be knocked down by such flimsy objects while she had her cards and teacups to warn her. This she had seen in the teacups.

“A new mistress to the house,” she had said. “I saw it clear as daylight.”

“Clear as mud,” scoffed Mr. Jeffers.

There was a feud between them because of his “goings on” with young females.

“There it was—one little grout beside a big one. I said to myself ‘That’s a woman beside the master’ and there in the corner was the marriage sign.”

She was delighted nevertheless. They all were.

“Though who’d have thought it of him,” said Amy.

“Men,” added Jess, who was quite knowledgeable on that subject, “you never can tell with them.”

“My word,” said Mrs. Couch. “We do see life with you about, young Jane. I suppose we’ve got to call you Madam now. The mistress, eh?”

“I daresay the master would appreciate that,” I replied.

Mrs. Couch nodded. Later she said: “In front of the servants just to make it right and proper. But to me you’ll always be young Jane.”

She was pleased. “It’ll be like a proper house. The Hall is very pleased. And a little baby too. It’s a good thing you got that before. Poor Mr. Sylvester Milner could never accommodate… if you know what I mean. But with a little one on the way I reckon the wedding will be prompt. It has to be when there’s a nipper on the way.”

And so I prepared for my convenient wedding.

Sometimes I was almost on the point of calling it all off.

What was I doing? It was a year since I had joyously gone to Joliffe as his bride. I had no doubts then, no qualms.

And what had I known of Joliffe? What did I know of Sylvester?

I tried to think of him dispassionately. I liked him; I could say I was fond of him. He had interested me from the moment he had discovered me in the Treasure Room. I was never bored in his company; we had this great interest between us. I was stimulated to learn as I was sure he was to teach me. It can be a success, this marriage, I thought.

He had implied very clearly that ours would be no intimate relationship. We should have our own rooms; there would be little difference in the life I was leading now and what would follow. I should look after the house and help with his business as I did at this time; the difference would be that I should be his wife and my child would be born in comfort, to security. I should not have to scheme for mine as my mother had for hers.

I could almost hear her voice saying: “We arranged this for you, Janey, seeing how things went. Your father and I arranged it.”


* * *

The marriage ceremony would be in the little church a quarter of a mile from the house. It would naturally be a quiet wedding.

A week before it was to take place I was going through the post with Sylvester as I did every morning. He would read through his letters and if they were business ones he would pass them to me. In due course I would be traveling to sales as he used to, but I was not quite knowledgeable enough for that just yet. Later I should be able to buy and sell, but my apprenticeship was not yet completely served.

Sylvester suddenly paused and looked up at me.

“Here is a letter from my nephew. He proposes to come to the wedding.”

“Joliffe,” I began, my heart leaping uncomfortably.

“No, no. This is Adam, my brother Redmond’s son. He is home in England after two years in Hong Kong.”

“So he is coming here.”

“I did not expect any of my family to come,” he said.


* * *

My heart leaped, turned over and seemed to stop for a second when I saw Adam. The reason was of course that he was standing with his back to me in the sitting room, holding a figure in his hands, and from the back he looked just like Joliffe.

When he turned the resemblance was scarcely perceptible. This man was an inch or so shorter than Joliffe, but still tall; his broader shoulders made him look less tall still. His features were like Joliffe’s but his eyes were different; where Joliffe’s were blue, this man’s were grey, a rather cold color as the sea is on a dull day. He lacked those black lashes which were such a startling feature in Joliffe’s face. And of course he lacked the charm.

The illusion did not last long. It was just a faint family resemblance.

Sylvester was seated in his chair.

He said, “Jane, this is my nephew, Adam Milner. Adam, the lady who is to be my wife.”

He bowed rather stiffly. Every minute he was growing less like Joliffe.

“It is fortunate that I shall be in England at the time of the wedding,” he said.

He was studying me intently and I thought I detected a faint hostility in his glance.

“Come and sit down, Jane,” said Sylvester. “I have asked Ling Fu to bring us tea. What did you think of the figurine, Adam?”

“Very pleasant,” he answered.

Sylvester raised his eyebrows and grimaced at me. “That is all he can say of our beautiful piece, Jane. It’s genuine Sung.”

“I doubt that,” said Adam. “It’s later than that.”

“I could swear it’s Sung,” said Sylvester. “Jane, take a look at it.”

As I took the figure from Adam I felt the eyes of this man on me and they were cynical. I said: “I’m afraid I’m not sufficiently competent to make a judgment.”

“Jane is very cautious,” said Sylvester, “and overmodest I think. She has learned a good deal since she came here.”

“You came here with your mother, did you not, when she started to keep house?” said Adam.

“Yes,” I answered.

“And now you are becoming a connoisseur.”

His voice was pleasant enough but his eyes mocked me. I fancied he was implying that he thought me an adventuress. I felt angry towards him. I disliked him not for his attitude but for being enough like Joliffe as to remind me of him and to bring back poignant memories of the days when I was innocent enough to believe I would live happily ever after.

“I am certainly not a connoisseur. Sylvester”—I said his name with difficulty and always with a faint touch of embarrassment—“has been kind enough to teach me all I know.”

“I’ve no doubt that you have learned a great deal,” he said and there was insinuation behind his words. I was reading his mind. He thought that I and my mother were adventuresses. We had come here in the first place, made a cosy spot for ourselves, then I had married Joliffe and come to grief so I had returned and brought Sylvester into my net.

I began to dislike this Adam.

Ling Fu brought in the tea. I presided over the tray and was silent while the men talked.

Adam seemed to direct the conversation into channels which could exclude me.

He wanted to hear all about the accident. He “had been very anxious,” he said.

“I’m flattered,” replied Sylvester.