‘It’s nothing to do with me!’ James burst out. ‘How can I convince you? I didn’t – haven’t! I’ve never—’
How can I possibly speak to them of such things?
How could he tell his female relatives that he had never been with a woman? That he was still in a state of celibacy, even though he had impulsive yearnings to be otherwise.
‘Here’s your father.’ The front door banged and they heard the murmurings of voices as Mary greeted Isaac Rayner. Mildred Rayner’s voice trembled and she didn’t look at her son as she spoke. ‘He’ll know what to do.’
James felt sick with apprehension. He and his father had had a long talk just a few days ago, when it was outlined what was expected of him now that he had finished school. James, who was undecided over a career, could take three months to think about it, and if he hadn’t decided in that time then he must either join his father and Gilbert in shipping, or join the army. He didn’t want to do either, but the
problem was that he didn’t know what he wanted to do. His drawing master at school in York had said he should become a painter, he had even offered to buy one of his water-colours, but James, embarrassed though flattered, had made him a gift of it.
‘Ask Cook to delay supper, Mary. I’ll ring the bell when we’re ready.’ Mildred Rayner stood up as Isaac came into the room. ‘And please do not mention this, er, incident to the other staff.’
‘No, ma-am.’ Mary bobbed her knee and carefully closed the door.
‘What incident?’ Isaac kissed his wife on her proffered cheek. ‘Why can’t we eat? We’re already late. I waited for Gilbert, and then he decided he would stay over in Hull. There are people he wants to see about the new house.’
‘Oh,’ Mildred tutted. ‘How annoying.’ She turned to her daughter, who was sitting at the other side of the room, as far away as it was possible to get from James. ‘Anne, you’d better go to your room whilst I speak to your father. You too, Sarah Maria.’
Sammi looked up at her aunt; she was the only one in all the family who called her by her full name. Aunt Mildred had definite views on names as well as most other subjects; a pedant, Sammi’s father called her whenever he had a verbal brush with her. ‘May I stay, Aunt? The baby is very comfortable.’
‘No, you may not. Please go upstairs with Anne until I call you, and take the – the child with you.’
‘Wait a minute, wait a minute. What baby? What is this?’ Isaac noticed for the first time the wrapped bundle in Sammi’s arms.
Anne was hesitating by the door, but on seeing her mother’s clenched lips and interpreting her mood, left the room without waiting for her cousin.
‘Where has it come from? Why is it here?’ Isaac peered down at the baby. ‘Of course, it can’t be yours, Sammi? It wasn’t here this morning!’
‘Of course it isn’t hers! Don’t be so ridiculous,
Isaac.’ Mildred put her hand to her head. ‘I think I’m feeling unwell.’
Isaac rushed to draw a chair for his wife and Sammi rose to her feet, while James, in a stupor, just stood and stared at them all.
James found his voice. ‘A woman brought it. She said it’s mine.’
‘Yours!’ His mild-mannered father’s voice thundered out. ‘What did she mean, yours?’
The two male members of the Rayner household stared at each other. James, struck dumb with fright and apprehension, and his father speechless with amazement.
Isaac looked at his wife as she leaned forward in the chair, her hands over her eyes. ‘Sammi, take your aunt to her room, she’d better lie down, and you stay upstairs until I call you.’
‘Yes, Uncle Isaac.’ There would be no persuading him otherwise. Her uncle was angrier than she had ever seen him.
‘You young dog! How dare you? How dare you upset your mother in such a way?’ Isaac raised his voice again once the ladies had gone, his face was pale, but with an angry spot of colour on each cheek. ‘Why has the child been brought here? Who is this woman you have got into such trouble? Is she marriageable?’
‘Sir – Father. I don’t know. I’ve never – there’s been a mistake.’ James implored. ‘The woman who came said that it was her daughter’s child, and that she is dead. She said that her daughter told her it was mine!’ He started to sob. ‘It can’t be mine, sir. It’s just not possible.’
Isaac frowned. ‘What are you telling me? That you haven’t – that you haven’t been with a woman?’
James nodded miserably and wiped his eyes. ‘I think I would remember, sir.’
‘I imagine you would,’ Isaac said, his manner calming. ‘Are you absolutely sure? You hadn’t been
drinking and things got out of hand? Think, man! Work back nine months.’
‘Nine months, sir?’
‘Nine months! That’s how long it takes for a baby to grow. Good God, James. Don’t you know anything? Surely – the fellows at school …’
James shook his head. He’d never really listened to the lewdness or salaciousness of some of his fellow students in York. He and his friends discussed music, the arts and literature, they didn’t steal out of the college buildings to meet women, or get drunk and have to climb up a drainpipe to get back into their rooms. They had, of course, to put up with many obscene suggestions from some of their fellows, but as he didn’t always understand some of the comments, they didn’t really bother him.
I’ve only been drunk once
, he thought.
And that was Gilbert’s fault. He was the one who kept plying me with strong ale. It was the night Gilbert had announced his engagement to Harriet Billington. When was that? During last summer before I returned to school. Gilbert insisted that I stay with him in Hull to celebrate
. The colour suddenly drained from his face and he sat down abruptly, even though his father was still standing. There had been a girl. Two girls. Gilbert had met them outside the inn where they were going to stay the night rather than drive back home, and he’d brought them in to join them. ‘It might be my last taste of freedom,’ he’d whispered in James’s ear. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to stay with the Billingtons, even though I was invited.’
‘What’s the matter with you? Are you ill?’ His father’s voice came from far away.
‘Not ill, sir. I’ve just remembered something.’ He’d been mildly shocked at his elder brother. He thought that he might well have stopped his philandering now that he was to marry the sweet and gentle Harriet, but James was already under the influence of the strong Hull ale and in no state to dissuade his brother. Besides, the girls were pretty, he
remembered; one of them very pretty indeed and rather shy. The other was rather worse for drink and had clung on to him as they’d climbed the stairs to the room which he and Gilbert were to share.
The dashed thing was that he couldn’t remember anything else. The shy pretty one had sat beside him, but the next thing was that it had been morning and he was still lying cramped on the sofa. His head had felt as if it had had a hammer blow, and his mouth was as thick as a crow’s nest. The girls had gone and Gilbert was asleep in the bed.
‘Well! Come on, sir. What have you remembered? Is the child yours or not?’ His father was standing in front of him, urging him to answer, his face anxious.
Was it possible? he thought. Could he have taken that girl and not remembered? Was she experienced enough to know what to do? He dare not for the life of him ask his father if it was possible. The only person he could ask was Gilbert, and he wasn’t here, and if he had been, without a doubt he would have laughed.
‘I think, sir, that perhaps it could be.’
His father, with an exclamation, turned from him. ‘You young fool! You’re going to have to pay these people to take it back, you know that don’t you? We can’t have any scandal, your mother would be simply furious. And we’ve Gilbert to think of, we don’t want anything stopping his marriage. And then there’s Anne, young Mark Tebbitt is hovering.’ He turned to James and shook his head more in anguish than anger as he quietly said, ‘Totally selfish, James. You should have thought of the consequences before taking your pleasure.’
James nodded dismally. The one time in his life, the anticipated joy of manhood, and he couldn’t even remember it.
‘Mary!’ Sammi called in a whisper through the kitchen door. ‘I think the baby needs a drink. Can you bring some warm milk and an old sheet?’
Mary nodded conspiratorially. ‘Yes, miss.’
She can never have known such excitement in all the years she has been here
, Sammi thought as she went up to the guest room. It was usually a very dull household unless James was there, and he’d certainly put the cat among the pigeons now. How on earth had the woman got his name? She doubted that the accusations levelled against her cousin were true.
He’s such a child himself
, she mused as she laid the infant on the high feather bed.
He probably doesn’t even know how babies are made. Although
, she pondered,
that wouldn’t actually prevent him from making one
.
Anne knocked and opened the door. ‘Is Father very angry?’ she whispered. ‘Is he turning James out?’
Sammi looked at her in amazement. ‘Turn him out? But where would he go?’
‘I don’t know, nor do I care.’ Anne drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t very great, and smoothed her hands down her sprigged muslin gown. ‘I only know that I shall never speak to him again in my life.’ She gave a dramatic shudder, and a single false ringlet from her upswept fair hair danced about her neck. ‘He’s despicable.’
‘Nonsense.’ Sammi started to take off the baby’s thin blanket and it moved, stretching its tiny mouth and nose. ‘We don’t know for sure that this
is
James’s child. Poor little mite. Come on, let’s have a look at you; see what you are.’
‘Sammi! What are you doing? You’re not going to undress it?’
‘Of course I’m going to undress it. How else will we know if it’s a boy or a girl? Anyway, it needs some clean clothes. Is that all right?’ she added, suddenly remembering that this wasn’t her home and that the rules were different. ‘I asked Mary for an old sheet.’
Anne shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’ She dropped her voice. ‘But can you tell? What kind it is, I mean?’
Sammi laughed. Anne was seventeen, not much younger than her. Surely, surely she knew? She had two brothers, after all. ‘Have you not seen a baby undressed before?’ she asked. ‘But you’ve seen kittens, and puppies like Sam?’
Anne averted her eyes. Her cheeks flushed. ‘Of course not. I wouldn’t look. It’s not the thing to do. It’s rude.’
Sammi unwrapped the thin scrap of sheet which swaddled the baby. ‘Well, whether it’s rude or not, there he is. It’s a boy.’
The supper bell still hadn’t rung, even though half an hour had elapsed since they had been ordered out of the room by her uncle, so Sammi decided that she would risk going down. She knocked tentatively on the sitting-room door and walked in. She had left the baby in her room, having taken an empty drawer out of the bottom of the wardrobe and placed him in it. She had given him a spoonful of milk and wrapped him in a clean sheet, though not bound so tight as it had been.
‘Uncle Isaac!’
Her uncle had his back to her, with one arm leaning on the mantelshelf and studiously watching the fire burning in the grate. On the shelf, a collection of coloured glass was reflected in a gilt-edged mantel mirror, and in the flickering firelight and the glow from a table lamp and tall candles, the dark mahogany furniture gleamed.
‘Uncle Isaac. If you haven’t yet decided what to do, I have a suggestion.’ She glanced at James. He looked terrible. His face was pale and his hair awry.
‘I have decided.’ He turned to her and he had, she thought, such a sorrowful look about him. ‘But you mustn’t bother your head, my dear. This is not a suitable subject for you to be worrying about, and I’m only sorry that you have become involved.’
‘Oh, I’m not worrying, Uncle. I only want to help James. I just thought that if we went to try and find the woman, we might persuade her to take the baby back. We might find out also why she thinks he belongs to James.’
‘My dear, that is what I intend. We’re waiting now for Spence to bring round the carriage. We shall try to find the woman, she can’t have got far down the road, if indeed she is making her way to Hull, as I suspect she might be.’
‘I’ll get my cape then.’ Sammi turned for the door.
‘What? But you can’t come. Good heavens, no.’ Isaac pulled down his grey waistcoat and then fiddled with his watch chain. ‘What are you thinking of, Sammi? I wouldn’t dream …’
‘But you are taking the child with you? So who is going to hold him?’ she asked quietly. ‘You, or James?’
He coughed and humphed. ‘Well, I er, I was wondering about that. I did think of asking Mildred,’ he muttered as if to himself, ‘but no, perhaps not.’
‘Aunt Mildred has gone to bed, and Anne doesn’t want to talk to James. So there’s only me, unless you ask one of the servants.’
‘Oh no. Out of the question. We mustn’t let this get out, James’s mother would be most upset. Mary wouldn’t mention it, I’m sure, but the others! Well – very well. Go and get your things.’
As she turned to go upstairs, she wondered what had been said which had turned her uncle’s demeanour from anger to such obvious distress.
The woman kept in the shadow of the trees and bushes. She had known that someone would come looking for her to fetch her back, to offer her money or some inducement to keep the child. She saw the maid run down the drive and out into the lane, whilst she watched from the safety of the garden. When she saw her return and enter the house, she felt it safe to leave and make her way back down the long, lonely Anlaby Road, towards Hull.
‘He’ll be all right there,’ she muttered. ‘If they’ll keep him.’ She fantasized about this mansion that he would live in, the food he would eat, the warm bed he would sleep upon, how he would play and tumble in the garden.
If they keep him. If they don’t take him to the workhouse
. That worried her a lot, and she knew that she would have to check; she would have to call at the hospitals and charity homes which housed the unwanted and the very poor. ‘For, God forbid,’ she muttered, ‘I couldn’t do that to him; not to my own.’
She moved back into the shadows as a carriage drove towards the hamlet of Anlaby. Some nob going home to a good supper, she surmised, and ran her hand over her own swollen, empty belly.