I froze. I’m not exactly sure what I had been expecting from this meeting, and I knew that Daddy felt certain that Henry would come running if only I said the word, but I didn’t feel so sure anymore. I didn’t feel so sure about anything. Why would I be suddenly interested in his marriage proposal had not something happened that had made me more eager, more in need of it? Why did he suddenly think he stood a chance?
Was he walking the tightrope between being the best of friends, helping in a bad time, offering support and love, or being a man who sees an opportunity, a weakness, and seizes the moment?
“Venetia, my darling,” he said, taking my hands in his, pressing them lightly, with the merest suggestion of urgency. “Please let me take you away from this, and encompass you with all the love and happiness that I have in my heart.” He smiled in such a wonderful warm way, his eyes caressing mine with hope and happiness. My eyes began to water, and a tear spilled out and down my cheek. If only I could love this man, I thought. If only I’d never met Alastair, never known what real love was. But then I wouldn’t be in the state I was in now. I’d be the old Venetia, and there’s no damn way I’d be settling for Henry Brampton-Boyd.
“Will you do me the honor, Venetia, of accepting my hand in marriage?” he asked in a half whisper, taking my hands to his lips. “I have a wonderful life to offer you, with the heavenly Brampton Hall, a very comfortable living, and, not least I hope, my very dear and enduring love for you.”
A series of pictures flickered through my mind in quick succession: a heavily pregnant shadow being hidden away in her parents’ house and then swept into a nasty nunnery, her beloved baby snatched from her grasping arms, never to be seen again. I couldn’t bear the thought of giving up my baby. I knew that this was my alternative. I was being given a way out, a brutal compromise between two sacrifices, and I knew how I had to act.
“Yes,” I uttered, hearing my words as if spoken by another, more practical Venetia, a Venetia who wanted an easy life, with wealth and status and legitimate children, living in the grand Brampton Hall in the style to which she had grown accustomed. A Venetia who always looked at her eldest child with regret and guilt sliding uncomfortably together in a swell of discontentment.
Could this Venetia be me?
I took my hands away and sat down, using all my force to stop myself from crying, steadily putting a smile on my face, keeping my chin up, facing the music. And I realized that this is what it’s like to be an adult, learning to pick from a lot of bad choices and do the best you can with that dreadful compromise. Learning to smile, to put your best foot forward, when the world around you seems to have collapsed in its entirety, become a place of isolation, a sepia photograph of its former illusion.
I stiffened as he sat down on the sofa beside me. Shifting over a fraction, I rearranged my yellow skirt, scared of what was coming next.
I saw his face come toward mine and worked hard to prevent myself from shrinking away. He gently placed his lips on mine and—although the world didn’t stop turning—it was not unpleasant. He has vastly improved his kissing since the orchard experience, which had been rather wet and gagging. It was a gentle kiss, no pressure, no passion, nothing like the kisses I shared with Alastair, which were torrid, fervent episodes. It couldn’t have been more different.
“My love,” he said, and it sounded so odd coming from his lips. “This is the happiest day of my life.” He smiled and looked sincerely overjoyed. I managed to smile, trying to mirror his joy in my face and my bearing. It was extremely awkward.
“We will need to set the date soon,” he whispered, leaning into my ear, kissing my neck, my throat. “I don’t know how long I can bear the wait.”
“No, let’s not wait too long.” I agreed with frail enthusiasm, wondering how long I could hide the pregnancy. “The sooner the better.”
“So, we’re agreed!” he exclaimed, slapping his hands on his knees with pleasure. “I will tell my Group Captain as soon as I return to base. They should be able to give me a few days off later in the month.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing first the back of my hand and then turning it over, opening up my fingers, and kissing inside.
The room was closing in on me, clammy and stifling, and I felt like leaping up, throwing open the veranda doors, and letting myself run, run, down the lawn, escaping down into the valley like a wild horse, and on, on, forever. And I knew that it would always be that way. I would spend the rest of my life running.
“Let’s tell Mama,” I cried, snatching my hand back and heading for the door. “I can’t wait to see her face.”
I strode out into the hall, and he followed me as I went up the grand staircase, clutching the sweeping banister with every step, desperate for some kind of reprieve.
We found Mama in the nursery with Silvie, helping her mend a doll’s dress, carefully showing her how to backstitch to make it stronger, the way she had with Kitty and me when we were girls. So very long ago.