“You find it amusing?” I asked angrily.

“Well, there is nothing to worry about, is there?”

“What do you mean? When I don’t know whether it is yours or David’s, you think that is nothing to worry about?”

“You’re married. Married women are entitled to have babies. I find it rather intriguing.”

I said: “You never took any of this seriously, did you? To you it was just a light affair. I daresay you have had many. This was a little different. Your own brother’s wife. You found that rather piquant, didn’t you?”

He was silent, still looking at me with that amused look on his face.

“What am I going to do?” I asked.

“Do? Do you mean shall you have it or not?”

“Are you suggesting…? This is my child. Whoever its father is, it is still mine.”

“Claudine, you are rather dramatic, my dear one. You are worried, but there is nothing to worry about.”

“You don’t think there is anything to worry about in passing off a child, who may be yours, as David’s?”

“Well, if he doesn’t know, what has he got to be upset about?”

How he revealed himself to me! What had I done? I had betrayed the best of men for the sake of a philanderer.

“Jonathan,” I said, “it is clear that you do not take this situation seriously.”

“I take you, Claudine, with the utmost seriousness. I am simply saying that there is nothing for us to worry about.”

“This deceit! This betrayal! This bringing into the world of a child, letting David believe it is his when it might not be?”

“Very high-sounding,” he said. “But, my dear Claudine, let us look at the facts. We have absolutely nothing to worry about. The child will have the best of everything. He’ll inherit his share of Eversleigh. It’s really very convenient, keeping it in the family as it were.”

I turned away and he laid his hand on my arm.

“Claudine,” he said pleadingly. “What a curse it is that all those people are working in Enderby. I’ve thought of you constantly all the time I’ve been away.”

I had changed. That pleased me. I was no longer moved. I saw him too clearly, or was it because the child had already made me into a different woman?

I thought exultantly: It’s over. He has no power over me now.

But it was too late.

I saw his expression of dismay change to resignation as I turned from him and galloped back to the house.

I was absolutely sure now, but I hesitated to tell David. That was going to be very hard. I knew that he would be delighted and I should feel this sick remorse because of the truth.

I went to my mother’s room. She was resting, which was unusual for her. She was lying on her bed in a peacock-blue peignoir, looking rather languid and as beautiful as ever—no, more so because there was a special radiance about her.

“I’ve come to talk to you,” I said. “No, don’t get up. I’ll sit here.”

I sat on the bed and she looked intently at me. “I think I know what you are going to tell me, Claudine.”

“Do you?”

She nodded. “I recognized the signs some time ago. My dearest, I’m so happy for you. It is a baby, isn’t it?”

I nodded. She began to laugh suddenly.

“You find it amusing?” I asked.

“Very. Wait till you hear.”

I looked at her in puzzlement and it was some seconds before she spoke. Then she said: “Me, too.”

“What?”

“I’m so happy, Claudine. It was all I lacked and now, I’m going to have a child, too. Isn’t that funny, gloriously funny. You and I, mother and daughter, in the same predicament.”

She had sat up and caught me to her. We rocked to and fro for a moment laughing. Perhaps my laughter was a little hysterical, but in her joy she did not notice it.

I thought: If only I could tell her. A burden shared is a burden halved, someone had said. But then was it fair to make others carry your troubles? I had made them myself. They were my affair. I must not involve her. I must not put a cloud into all the happiness I saw in her face.

“Of course you think I’m old,” she said. “But I’m not too old, Claudine. I can just about make it.”

“You’ll never be old. You’re eternally youthful.”

“There speaks my dutiful daughter, saying what she thinks Mother likes best to hear. You’re right. I do. But truth is truth, is it not, and I am no longer in my first flush of youth.”

“What does Dickon say?”

“Pure delight. Well, not exactly complete delight. Thrilled about the child, of course, but like you he remembers that I am not so young. I think he is going to fuss a bit. It will be odd to see him like that. He is already looking at me as though I might break at any minute.”

“How lucky you are to love like that.”

“Well, isn’t it the same with you and David?”

I nodded because I could not speak.

“I’m glad it was David you cared for,” she said. “Jonathan is very like his father… David is quite different.”

“And you think Dickon is the perfect man.”

“Oh, far from it. I soon discovered Dickon’s weaknesses. Odd, that I should love them more than other people’s virtues. Jonathan reminds me very much of what Dickon was at his age. I think he and Millicent will make a match of it. The Pettigrews want it. It joins up the banking interests, and Lord Pettigrew is very much involved with—that other work, I gather. But what about us? Two mothers, eh? What does David say?”

“I haven’t told him yet.”

“You haven’t told him! You mean I am the first to know.”

“You didn’t tell me first,” I said reproachfully.

“As a matter of fact I was a trifle embarrassed… at my time of life with a grown-up son and a married daughter. It seems indecent somehow.”

“How absurd, Maman.”

“Wait till Dickon hears your news. He’ll be so delighted. He always wanted a grandson. I suppose you want a boy.”

“I don’t care what it is.”

“No. And I feel the same. It’s not so important for us. Dickon already has two sons. I think I should like a little girl.” She looked tenderly at me and I put my arms round her. “Girls are closer in a way,” she added.

I felt it would be a great luxury then to let myself weep, and to tell her everything that had happened.

She stroked my hair. “You mustn’t be afraid, Claudine. I sensed that you have been a little, lately. Now I know why. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“No, no…” I said. “It’s not that. It’s just a little—overwhelming, isn’t it?”

She agreed solemnly that it was.

I found it an ordeal telling David. How different it would have been if I had been sure the child was his, if I had never gone to Enderby and let myself be overpowered by my emotions, if I had never let that house spread its tentacles about me…

There I was, blaming the house again, blaming anything but my own weakness.

I had sinned and must pay for my sins.

David took my hands and kissed them.

“Oh, Claudine, I hoped and hoped… It is wonderful news. And you’re happy, aren’t you? You want this.”

“Of course I want this… a baby of my own.”

“Our own, Claudine.”

I shivered a little. I wanted so much to tell, to rid myself of this burden of guilt. But I should have to carry it alone… all through my life.

I could not tell David any more than I could tell my mother.

What a celebration there was that night! The news was out.

Sophie was induced to join us at the table. It was a very special occasion, she was told. Sabrina came down too. She looked rather wan; she found the winters very trying and spent a great deal of time in bed now.

When we were all seated Dickon said: “I have an announcement to make. We have to drink the health of newcomers who will shortly be making their appearance at Eversleigh.”

Sabrina and Sophie listened intently.

Dickon then waved his hand first to my mother and then to me.

“Lottie and I are going to have a child—and so are Claudine and David. It is a most auspicious occasion. One would have been a matter for rejoicing, but two—that means jubilation. We are going to drink the very best wine we have in the cellars to the health of our mothers. God bless them, and may all they desire be theirs.”

Jonathan smiled at me as he lifted his glass.

Sabrina was shaking with emotion and I noticed that Sophie’s lips were drawn down at the corners. Poor Sophie, once more she was thinking of all that she had missed.

The tears were running down Sabrina’s cheeks.

“Come, come, Mother,” said Dickon, “this is supposed to be a happy occasion.”

“Tears of happiness, my darling boy,” she said. “I know this is what you wanted to complete your happiness. A dear child… Lottie’s… and another grandchild for me. I hope I live to see it.”

“What nonsense!” said Dickon. “Of course you’ll live to see it. I insist, and Lottie says you always do what I want.”

They drank to the future; and in the kitchens the servants drank a toast to us.

There was a great deal of talk about babies at the table. My mother told of the births of my brother and myself and all the difficulties of pregnancies as though this was the most enjoyable experience known to womankind.

“I suppose,” said Dickon, with feigned resignation, “this will be the burden of our conversation for months to come. I doubt we shall ever escape from nursery topics.”

“It is a great deal more healthy than this continuous talk of revolution, and spies, and poor men transported merely for speaking their minds,” retorted my mother.

“Wise men know when to keep silent,” said Jonathan, “and that goes for women too.”