May 12th
At last I have won out and persuaded David that the girls must be sent away to school sooner than the autumn.
I made no more mention of the last incident and all was quiet until two days since, when I joined David in the study after supper in order to speak seriously with him.
‘My love,’ I said, scarcely knowing how to say what was in my thoughts.
‘Do you care for brandy?’ he asked me, and I rather thought I did. Perhaps it would nerve me.
‘There is something I really must tell you,’ I continued.
He looked displeased, as if he expected me to launch into a diatribe against the girls again, but I waved my hand to show this was not my intention.
‘No, I have nothing to say about the girls, not on this occasion.’
‘Then what, my love? Have we received an invitation?’
‘No. It is simply that this month, that which I would normally expect to come has not come and . . .’
He looked more impatient still.
‘What do you expect to come? A letter? Some form of package?’
I laughed with frustration and relief.
‘No, no, I merely mean . . . I think I may be . . . That is I cannot be sure . . . but . . .’
At last his visage showed signs of comprehension.
‘Do you mean to tell me that . . .?’ He rose from his chair, and I rose to accept his outstretched hands. ‘A son?’
‘Well . . . a child,’ I said, laughing at his excitement.
‘Yes, yes, of course. What am I doing? What am I saying? Sit down, you must sit down, in your condition . . .’
‘Of course, it is very early yet. Probably too early even to call the doctor.’
‘Nonsense, I shall have him called at once.’ He rang the bell pull above the mantel and a servant was dispatched to fetch the doctor straight away.
‘Oh no,’ I protested. ‘He must not let us disturb his evening. Another day will do just as well.’
But David would not be dissuaded.
What a happy evening, what kisses and fond words, what talk of names and schools followed.
It was only interrupted by a loud crash from outside the door.
Upon investigation, a bust had fallen from its plinth on to the hall floor. The sound of scurrying footsteps on the stairs could be heard as we picked it up and replaced it.
‘Walls have ears,’ said David grimly.
‘Oh, leave them be,’ I said. ‘They are to be big sisters. It is exciting news for them as well.’
But the next day, after the doctor had been and gone and declared it too early to say for sure, but possible, if not even probable that I was expecting a baby, a terrible thing happened.
I walked out on to the patio for my customary hour of reading. Before I had gone two steps, a large, heavy item fell and hit me upon the shoulder, later shattering upon the paving stones beside me. It proved to be a large pitcher of the sort used to fill the washbasins in the bedrooms. It did not quite knock me out, but I fell to my knees, shocked, and there cut my hand on a shard of the pottery.
> ‘Oh help,’ I managed to cry, but nobody came to my relief for some time.