Wicked Pleasures (94 page)

‘Oh never mind,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry I even raised it. We’re better apart. Much better.’

‘Kendrick –’

‘No,’ he said, ‘no, don’t. I didn’t actually think there was any more to say. I really didn’t. I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you. You have your life here, and I have mine in New York. I’m building up a clientele for my painting,’ he added with almost childlike pride. ‘I guess it was just a childish romance we had. Just as well we found out before it was too late. I must go and see Grandpa, he looked terrible.’ He held out his hand. ‘Goodbye, Georgina.’

With an immense effort she met his eyes calmly, almost coolly. She took his hand, and said, ‘Goodbye, Kendrick.’

‘It obviously suits you,’ he said, smiling at her slightly strangely, ‘being without me. You’ve actually put on a little weight.’

It had been very soon that she had realized: almost immediately after they had finally parted. She had woken up one morning, feeling extremely sick; sat up with a jolt, remembering the precise nature of the sensation with horrific clarity. She shot into her bathroom and threw up violently.

‘Oh God,’ she said wearily, sitting back on her heels, wiping her streaming eyes. ‘Oh, dear God.’

She decided to keep the baby. She had actually decided it that morning, that first morning, as she sat on her bathroom floor. It was all she had left of Kendrick and she wanted it. It would be perfectly simple to bring it up at Hartest. Nanny would help. For the first time since Kendrick had walked away from her, through the doors of the airport, she felt a dart of happiness. At last, at long last, she was actually going to have a baby. No more remorse, no more grief. But a baby. A baby of her own. She didn’t care what her father had to say. She was doing enough for him. He would probably be pleased, once he’d got
used to the idea. She wandered round the grounds, stroking her perfectly flat stomach, feeling sick, smiling foolishly.

Nanny guessed quite quickly. She came into Georgina’s room one morning, when she was lying down, recovering from a particularly violent bout of nausea, looking disapproving.

‘You’ve done it again, haven’t you?’ she said.

‘Yes I have, Nanny. Now don’t scold me, I have enough to cope with. I’m pregnant and I’m having it, and that’s that.’

‘I suppose it’s Kendrick’s.’

‘Yes of course it’s Kendrick’s. Really, Nanny!’

‘Well, it’s obviously doing you good.’

‘I don’t feel too good,’ said Georgina, closing her eyes briefly.

‘You look happier,’ said Nanny.

‘So you don’t disapprove too much?’

Nanny looked at her. ‘We’ve still got the crib,’ was all she said.

After the funeral, when she could see she was to be alone with the baby, that there would be no marriage, no husband around to help her, and when she could see also that the bump in her stomach was growing so large it could not much longer fail to be noticed, she decided she must tell Alexander. He had a right to know; and if she was to live at Hartest, have the baby there, then clearly, however notional such an idea might be, she had to ask his permission.

He seemed well these days, but distracted much of the time; he was working on the estate full time again, brimming with plans for the spring: for earlier lambing, for breeding a new strain of deer, for starting a commercial dairy. Nevertheless she was worried about him; he spent a lot of time in the gun room these days and often she found him poring over the account books late at night. She had summoned the courage (knowing that such questions always made him angry) to ask him if he had financial problems, but he assured her, surprisingly calmly, that he hadn’t, that it was simply that the financial implications of his new ideas were complex and made heavy demands on his time. He had been to London a couple of times (‘Business, darling,’ he would say vaguely if she asked him); what really concerned her was that he had been to New York more than once. When Georgina had expressed surprise and interest in those trips, had tried to ask him about them, why he was going, the dreadful familiar blankness came back into his eyes and she could feel him withdrawing from her; he refused to tell her, saying that it was entirely his concern, and afraid of distressing him further she changed the subject quickly. She spoke to Charlotte about it, who agreed it was strange: ‘But it’s no use trying to make him tell, you know what he’s like.’

‘I know,’ said Georgina with a sigh, ‘but it’s so odd and he’s so strange about it, it frightens me.’

‘Oh, you shouldn’t be that worried about it,’ said Charlotte briskly. ‘He looks very well. Leave him, Georgina. Don’t push it, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m not pushing it,’ said Georgina irritably. She found the way Charlotte and to a lesser degree Max tried to tell her how to handle Alexander, when
their own involvement with him was so extremely limited, very trying. She had done so very much more than her fair share of caring for him through his illness, she felt the least they could do was acknowledge the fact, and treat her views and concerns with respect. But on the rare occasions when she had tried to express this point of view, Charlotte would deliver a pompous little lecture about how of course she was not alone, they were always there, she had only to ask, and Max would tease her and call her Miss Nightingale, so she gave up.

And she had to admit that Alexander did seem well, and on the whole relaxed. He was particularly delighted by Max’s more frequent visits to Hartest (usually with Gemma), and Max’s apparently increased warmth towards him; he would talk about them both when they had gone as if they had done something remarkable and even difficult, rather than simply driving down from London for lunch; Georgina found this especially irritating; she tried to tell herself she was being childish, that Max was a treat, something served up in great style every once in a way, while she was there every day, part of the furniture, nursery fare and of little interest – but it still stung her.

Alexander had been talking to her about his new dairy on one of their walks one dark day a week later.

‘So I thought we could convert some of the old stables into a dairy,’ he was saying, ‘and start production in, say, April. There’s such a big demand for yogurt and so on these days, ice cream maybe even, and we could call it the Caterham Dairy or something like that, so that it had a bit of character. What do you think?’

‘I think it’s a wonderful idea,’ said Georgina. ‘Really I do. Have you talked to Martin about it?’

‘Of course. He’s very keen. As a matter of fact he’s coming to lunch today. Why don’t you join us?’

‘I’d like that.’ She smiled at him. ‘You know how much I love Martin.’

‘Yes, he’s a real charmer.’ He looked at her, and said, ‘Darling, I do think you ought to think about getting back to college now. I so appreciate how much you’ve done for me, but I’m fine now, and I hate to see you stuck down here wasting your life.’

‘I’m not stuck, Daddy, and I don’t see it as wasting my life.’ Georgina took a deep breath and looked at him. ‘Daddy, there’s something I have to tell you. Something you need to know.’

‘What’s that, darling? You’re not going to give up architecture, are you? It would be such a pity.’

‘Well – I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get back to it one day. No – the thing is – well, Daddy, you see, I’m – I’m going to have a baby.’

He looked at her, and his face was more than expressionless, it was absolutely blank, white, as if someone had drawn it, drawn the features and then not put in any emotion whatsoever. His eyes particularly were lifeless: almost unseeing. Then finally he said, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean what I say,’ said Georgina, puzzled. ‘I’m going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.’

‘Well it’s ridiculous,’ he said briskly, appearing to come slowly back to life. ‘Of course you can’t have a baby. You must – have it seen to. Like the last time. You’d better go and see that woman – what’s she called? Page? Something like that.’

‘Paget,’ said Georgina. ‘Lydia Paget. She’s moved back to Queen Charlotte’s now, but I’ve been going up to see her. She’s going to deliver the baby, I hope.’

‘Georgina, you’re talking nonsense. Nobody is going to deliver your baby. You’re not married and you’re much too young. Why hasn’t this Paget woman talked to me about it? I have to say I think it’s outrageous.’

‘Daddy,
you’re
talking nonsense,’ said Georgina. This wasn’t going quite as she had hoped. ‘I’m twenty-two. I can do what I like.’

‘And who is the father of this baby?’ said Alexander. He was beginning to look angry now, a flush rising in his pale face. ‘And exactly how pregnant are you?’

‘I’m six months pregnant,’ said Georgina, meeting his eyes, surprised and impressed at her own calm. ‘And –’ some swift, deep instinct warned her not to say, not to tell Alexander more than she absolutely had to –‘I would rather not say who the father is.’

‘Oh really? And perhaps you can tell me why he hasn’t married you, whoever he is, why he isn’t here supporting you?’

‘Because,’ said Georgina carefully, ‘we don’t want to get married. We’re not suited to one another, it wouldn’t have been a good idea.’

‘Well, I suppose I have to be grateful for that at least. So you’re going to raise an illegitimate child instead, without a father, simply because suddenly you find you’d made a mistake. I presume he knows about the baby, whoever he is?’

‘No,’ said Georgina, alarmed, ‘no he doesn’t. I – thought it best not to tell him. It would be better, I thought, to be on my own.’

‘Well, it sounds like a piece of extremely muddled thinking to me, Georgina, I have to say. And how do you think you’re going to support this child? Where are you going to bring it up?’

‘Well –’ She stared at him, beginning to be frightened now. ‘Well here, I thought. I mean it is my home, and Nanny would –’

That had been a mistake. Alexander’s voice rose.

‘Nanny! I hope Nanny doesn’t know about this, and has remained silent also? Because if she does, if she has –’

‘No,’ said Georgina hastily. ‘She has absolutely no idea. I just thought – well, she’s here and the nurseries and – well, I thought you might agree –’

‘Georgina, I do not agree. Not to any absurd ideas you might have about bringing up your baby at Hartest. I cannot imagine how you could ever have thought of such a thing. You can pursue this insane plan if you must; I can see that it’s a little late to do anything else now. But you will not do it here, and you’ll get no help from me. I don’t want you or your baby at Hartest. Do you understand? I want none of it. None.’

‘Yes,’ said Georgina, ‘yes, I understand. Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll remove myself, and the baby. Straight away. I’m surprised it’s what you want, but I’ll go.’

‘It is what I want,’ he said. ‘I’m appalled at you, Georgina, appalled, that you could behave in such a stupid, amoral way and that you could be so incredibly insensitive as to think I would welcome you and your child here. You are no daughter of mine.’

‘No,’ she said, looking at him very levelly, ‘no, I know I’m not. I never really believed it before. But I do now.’

She couldn’t remember afterwards exactly what happened; she must have gone back to the house, packed, loaded up her car, gone to see Nanny, explained to her, and then driven to London, and moved into Eaton Place: because at seven o’clock that night, that was where she found herself, sitting in the drawing room, still numb, very calm, and listening to Nanny’s voice on the phone asking her if she was all right.

‘I’m fine, Nanny, really. Now promise me, promise you won’t tell anyone, or say anything to Daddy. He’ll just blame you. I’m only going to be here a few days, and then I’ll find a flat or something.’

‘He’s so childish,’ said Nanny crossly, as if Alexander had thrown a fit of pique over some trifle, rather than told his favourite child to leave his house. ‘But he will get over it, Georgina, he really will. You mustn’t fret. He’ll have you back, when he’s got over the shock.’

‘He won’t,’ said Georgina, ‘and I don’t want to be had back.’ She heard her voice wobble.

‘Now listen,’ said Nanny, ‘when are you going to see that doctor again? I don’t like the thought of you up there in London, with no medical help at hand.’ She made London sound like some remote Hebridean island.

‘I’ll see her tomorrow, Nanny, I promise. I’m fine. Honestly. Don’t worry.’

She told Max first, the next day, after seeing Lydia Paget and getting herself booked into Queen Charlotte’s to have the baby.

‘I just don’t get it, Georgina. I think you ought to tell Kendrick.’

‘Well I may one day,’ said Georgina, ‘but I don’t want to yet. And you’re not to tell him, and if you do I’ll – well, I can think of all sorts of things I’d do to you.’

She was grinning, but she could tell she’d struck home; Max scowled at her.

‘Are you going to stay here?’

‘No,’ said Georgina. ‘I most certainly am not. I don’t want to, and I don’t think Daddy would let me even if I did. I’m moving as soon as I can find somewhere.’

‘Let’s ask Angie,’ said Max. ‘She’ll have lots of nice little nests for you, I’m sure.’

Charlotte was very cross too: that Georgina had not told her, that she had not told Kendrick, that she had let things go so far.

‘He has a right to know, Georgina,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s positively immoral not telling him. Perhaps I’d better go over and see him.’

‘Of course you mustn’t!’ said Georgina, alarmed. ‘I don’t know why everybody
thinks I can’t handle my own life. I’ve made a decision not to tell Kendrick and I’m not going to. And you’re not to. Anyway, I thought Grandpa would set about you with a computer terminal if he so much as set eyes on you in New York.’

‘Yes, I’m afriad he might,’ said Charlotte with a sigh. ‘He’s shown no sign whatsoever of forgiving me. Even so, Georgie, you ought to tell Kendrick. I really do think so.’

Angie, greatly to Georgina’s surprise, disagreed with them all.

‘It’ll just cause a lot of hassle, if you tell Kendrick,’ she said briskly. ‘He’ll come over and start mooning about, and think he’s got to offer to marry you, and Mary Rose is quite likely to get involved, and who needs it? You’ll be much better off on your own, if you ask me. Much less complicated. Don’t let them bully you.’