The Chilbury Ladies' Choir(78)
“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.
“Mama,” I called, breathless from the door. “We are to be married.”
She got up, a look of panic quickly turning into a smile as Henry came in beside me. “Oh! That’s good!” she said, rushing to open a window and letting in a fresh breeze. She took a great breath of air, then turned and came over to give Henry a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so very pleased.” She looked me straight in the eyes, only seven or eight inches from mine, and her mouth said, “I’m sure you’ll be the talk of the village,” but her eyes looked as if they were about to be crushed by a ton of black, heavy coal. I know she’s never been happy with Daddy, was forced to marry him for the sake of her family. The weight of all those years was packed into that look. She wanted me to do the right thing, but she couldn’t help but think of herself, the loveless, persecuted life she’d led.
She looked back round to Silvie, her new protégée, and then she said to Henry, “You must go straightaway and tell your mother. She’ll be furious if she finds out she wasn’t the first to know! Venetia, you must stay here and discuss plans.”
“You’re right, she’ll be livid. You know how she is!” he chortled in his good-humored way, and I found myself already disliking him. “So, my darling.” He took my hand again. “I’ll bid you good-bye and come again this afternoon. Maybe we can go for a long walk together and make some plans, the wedding, the honeymoon.” His eyes sparkled, darting uncontrollably over my body.
He disappeared with alacrity, and we stood in silence listening to his footsteps down the marble stairs, echoing through the hallway, and then the massive dull clunk of the front door being slammed. Then silence.
I crumpled. Mama helped me to the nursing chair, and Silvie was sent out to get some tea.
“I had to do it, Mama,” I whimpered. “You know I did.”
She didn’t say anything, just a long, quiet “Shhhhhh,” as if she had learned that the troubles of the world could be absorbed and deafened by slow, steady wishfulness, and I suddenly understood that she’d been silencing the noise for the past twenty years.
Silvie returned with some tea, and we sipped quietly, talking about how things were going to be. Weddings happen with great pace these days, which one must see as a blessing under the circumstances, although we exchanged withering looks at the prospect that it might even be as soon as next week.