Виктория Холт - Seven for a Secret

“She’ll be all right.”

“I pray she will be.”

“She is very happy now, Daniel, you have made her very happy.”

“Sometimes I wonder. I see a sadness in her eyes. I think sometimes she looks back … with regret.”

“You know the reason for that, Daniel. She looks back and regrets what happened before. She wishes beyond everything that this child was yours.”

“So do I.”

“And she worries. This is her child, Daniel, part of her.”

“Before anything else, I want her to be happy,” he said earnestly.

“She will be and so will you be … if you let yourselves be.”

“But she will always look back, and I…”

“You must look forward, Daniel. You have done so much for her. You have shown her clearly how much you love her. No one knows that more than she does. You’ve got to go on doing that. You’ve got to forget what went before. You’ve got to make this child your child, too. That is what she is afraid of. She thinks you will remember and it will make a barrier between you and the child which will spoil the happiness you have built up together. “

“I shan’t be able to forget who the child’s father is.”

“The child will be yours from the moment it is born. That is how you have to see it.”

“I can’t do that. Could you if you were in my place?”

“I should try. I should try with all my strength, otherwise the happiness will not be there.”

“I know you are right,” he said.

“And what of Rachel?”

“It will depend on you, Daniel. It is not difficult to love a small child. And this is Rachel’s. Remember that. It is here because you love her so much.”

“You have done a great deal for us. I shall never forget how much.”

“I think you and Rachel have been very lucky, Daniel,” I said.

We sat silently, each aware of the clock ticking away the seconds. He was wondering, as I was, how long we should have to wait.

It was not until early evening that the baby was born. The doctor came down to us. One look at his face told us that all was well. He was beaming.

“You have a little girl, Mr. Grindle,” he said.

“A healthy little girl.”

“And my wife?”

“Weary but triumphant. You could see her for a few minutes. Most of all she wants a rest now.”

We went up to the bedroom. Rachel looked pale but, as the doctor had said, triumphant. Mrs. Godber was holding the child wrapped up in a shawl and only a red and wrinkled face was visible.

She put the bundle into Daniel’s arms.

I waited in trepidation. So much depended on this.

Rachel was watching him closely.

“She’s beautiful,” he said.

“Our baby.” It was just right. I felt my eyes fill with tears. Rachel was looking at me.

“Freddie, you came, then.”

“Of course I came. I wanted to see the baby. You can’t monopolize her, Daniel.”

I held the child in my arms this little creature who had had such an effect on their lives: and all the time I was saying to myself. It’s going to work out. All is going to be well.

There was the usual excitement in Harper’s Green. Births and deaths were the very stuff that life was made of. Everyone was interested in the new baby at Grindle’s. There would be a christening at the church.

The newcomer was very welcome, in spite of her rather precipitate arrival.

I was spending a good deal of time with Rachel. I would walk over at lunch-time and have a light meal with her. The baby was thriving.

“Daniel really loves her,” Rachel told me.

“How could he help it? She is the most perfect baby.”

I agreed that she was. Her looks had improved since the first time I saw her and she was looking more like a baby now than a wrinkled old gentleman of ninety. She had blue eyes and dark hair and, fortunately, no resemblance so far to Gaston Marchmont.

The question of names was discussed at length.

“If she had been a boy,” said Rachel, “I should have called him Daniel. It would have made Daniel feel that the child was his as well.”

“That would have been a good idea. I am sure Daniel would have liked that.”

“I have an idea that he already looks on her as his. Freddie, I think I should call her after you.”

“Frederica! Oh no! Fred … Freddie … just think of it! I wouldn’t call a child of mine by my own name.”

“You have been so close to us in all this.”

“No reason why the poor child should be burdened with my name. I’ve got an idea. There’s a girl’s name. It’s French, I think, but that wouldn’t matter. It would be near and I do think it is a lovely idea.

I’m thinking of Danielle. “

“Danielle!” cried Rachel.

“It’s almost Daniel. But I think it ought to be Frederica.”

“No, no. That would be wrong. In a way it would be a reminder. We want to make a complete break with the past. She is yours and Daniel’s that is the point. She must be Danielle.”

“I see what you mean,” said Rachel.

In due course the Reverend Hetherington christened Rachel’s baby. Most of Harper’s Green were at the church and after the ceremony, with proprietary pride, Daniel carried Danielle back to Grindle’s Farm.

Since I had been working for the estate, I had little spare time to give to the sewing circle and the rest, and even Miss Hetherington understood that. She approved of what I was doing, for she thought that women should play a more prominent part in business and general affairs.

Aunt Sophie was, of course, delighted.

“It was just what you needed,” she said.

“I can’t be grateful enough to Crispin St. Aubyn for suggesting it.”

She enjoyed hearing details of what I discovered from the tenants; she liked James Perrin and he was asked to tea on several occasions.

In fact, several people exchanged glances when they saw me with James, and I guessed what was in their minds. I felt faintly embarrassed about this.

I visited Tamarisk now and then, but she was not exactly welcoming. I guessed everything was not going smoothly and she did not want to talk about what was wrong. I was often at Grindle’s Farm. The baby was flourishing and both Daniel and Rachel were obviously delighted with her.

It was a Saturday afternoon a free time for me unless there was some problem which had to be dealt with and, since it was some time since I had called on Flora Lane, I thought it was time I did so.

I approached the cottage from the back. There was no one in the garden. The empty doll’s pram was standing by the wooden seat in which Flora usually sat. Then I noticed that the back door was open and presumed she had gone in to get something.

I went to the door and called: “Is anyone at home?”

As I did so. Flora came out, carrying the doll, and to my amazement, Gaston Marchmont was with her.

“Hello,” said Flora.

“You haven’t been for a long time.”

“I see you have a visitor.”

Gaston Marchmont bowed.

“I was passing,” he said.

“I spoke to Miss Lane and she has shown me the nursery where she tends her precious child.”

Flora smiled down at the doll in her arms.

My amazement must have been obvious. It seemed so strange to me that she should be friendly with Gaston to such an extent that she invited him into the house. It had taken me several meetings before I had that privilege.

Flora put the doll in the pram and sat on the seat Gaston and I were on either side of her.

“You didn’t expect to see me here,” said Gaston to me.

“No, I did not.”

“I take an interest in the estate and all who live on it. After all, I am a member of the family now.”

He spoke with a certain insolence, I fancied.

“I like to know what’s going on,” he continued.

“It’s a long time since you’ve been,” said Flora again.

“I don’t get so much time now that I am working,” I explained.

“Miss Hammond is a very unusual lady, you know,” put in Gaston Marchmont.

“She is a pioneer. She is out to prove something which we should have learned a long time ago. The ladies are as good as the men only better.”

Flora looked vague.

“He’s got a touch of that cold, he has. Never quite got rid of it. I took him up to give him a dose of that stuff. It’s made with herbs.

That makes it better, doesn’t it, precious? “

Gaston raised his eyebrows and looked at me, as though he found this amusing. Knowing so much about him, I felt contempt for him swelling up in me.

“What a pleasant nursery Miss Lane has created up there,” he said.

I thought this could not be the first time he had called on her. I supposed he looked in as I did and when talking to him she had conceived the idea that the baby was not well and needed this medicine. She had gone up and he had followed her.

“It was so good of Miss Lane to show me the nursery,” Gaston went on.

“And thank goodness little what’s-his- name is better now. Have you, Miss Hammond, seen those venomous-looking birds on the wall?”

I felt myself turn cold at the sudden intense curiosity I saw in his eyes.

The birds had had a certain effect on me, reminding me of the old rhyme, of a secret which must never be told. And he had felt the same.

“The magpies,” said Flora.

“Lucy put them in a frame for me. They show you it’s a secret… never to be told. That’s what they are saying.”

“Do you know the secret?” asked Gaston.

She looked at him in horror.

“You do,” he said triumphantly.