Justice Hall - Laurie R. King [95]
“So we did. However, both of us drew the line at making a spectacle of a farce, so in the end we had a private ceremony, one October afternoon when we knew all the family would be away. There were no guests, just Alistair and a friend of mine as witnesses. Fait accompli; I thought my mother would die with disappointment. And although the physical side of things seemed fairly peculiar—I mean, Marsh was like a brother to me—we both had enough of a sense of humour, and a sufficiency of champagne, to legally consummate the marriage.
“And wouldn’t you know it, once was all it took. By Christmas I was sure, and I was in a right state. I had a life I loved in London and Paris, and the thought of becoming a man’s wife and a child’s mother, everything that entailed, what it had done to my mother—it was driving me frantic. I had to tell Marsh, of course, even though I’d worked myself into such a state that I was convinced that this proof of virility would somehow transform him, turn him into his father. Or more to the point, into mine.
“But he surprised me. He could see that a child would kill us both—not literally, but inside. Selfish, but true. I was even considering an abortion, but then he pointed out that while we might have a child we didn’t want, his brother wanted one he did not have. If I could bear to live with the thing for the remainder of the nine months and go through labour, two problems might be solved.
“It was like a light going on. I’d felt like I’d been shut into a trunk that was growing smaller and smaller, then suddenly the lid opened and the light poured in, and my panic was transformed into good will towards all.
“The only one who was not entirely happy about it was Sarah. I think, especially at first, she took it as a personal affront, she felt so keenly her own inability to bear Henry a child. Her ‘failure.’ But as soon as Gabriel was born, in the most remote Italian village we could find, I put him into her arms, and she just . . . melted. After that, Sarah was Gabriel’s mother.”
“And you never regretted it?”
“Of course I regretted it! Never for long, but from time to time my arms longed for him, I’d find myself wishing I’d kept him so I could hold him, watch him grow up. Let Dan be a part of his life, you know. But Sarah was very generous with me—amazingly so, considering how she felt. She would let me know when they were passing through Paris, sent me photographs, never objected to my writing the occasional auntly letter. She was a fine woman. It was Gabriel’s death that killed her, not the influenza.”
“Who else knows about all this?”
“The only person I’ve ever told is Dan. We met long after Gabriel was born, but I had to tell her. Some of the servants here may have suspected, when a few weeks after the wedding I went from feeling ill to bursting with happiness, then we left for Europe, and Henry and Sarah went away too shortly after that, only to return with a newborn in the autumn with no signs of milk or post-partum recovery. I assume that Marsh will have told Ali. And Sarah’s doctor must have known—my own believes I had a stillbirth.
“But in general, society assumed that since they lived in Italy anyway, at least until the old duke died, it was not unusual that their child was born there. And since Henry looked like a taller version of Marsh, and Gabriel inherited my height, Henry appeared more like Gabriel’s father than Marsh ever did.”
We sat in silence for several minutes, and then I sighed to myself. With his son’s death unexplained, Marsh could not leave Justice, lest he be turning the family’s honour over to someone who had in some way been responsible for that death. The death of a junior officer on the Front might easily have been arranged by someone a step or two down the line of succession, just as the accidental shooting of a duke could have been the work of the same hand. Or not by a direct heir, but by Sidney, who had proved himself more than ready to accept the candidate Thomas.
“Wouldn’t it simplify matters,