Lily Fairchild. Don Gutteridge

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СКАЧАТЬ fine. Dr. Hackney says you’ve got a slight infection. I must say he wasn’t too happy arriving late and finding Mrs. Crampton on her way out, but he’s been a dear anyway. He’s left this medicine for you and –”

      At last she noticed Lily’s nod towards the baby and its nurse. “Oh, that. Dr. Hackney says with your fever and all, you wouldn’t have enough milk, so Maureen, who God be thanked has more than enough for her own and yours, is helping out, aren’t you, dear?”

      Maureen responded by changing breasts and sighing with satisfaction.

      “Believe me, love, it’s all for the best.”

      “What day is it?”

      “You’ve been in and out of a doze for three days now. But you arelooking real good today. Shall I get you something to eat?”

      “Could I hold the babe, afterwards?”

      Lily wasfeeling better. She ate some soup, then her daughter was laid beside her, and when the women left for a moment, she eased a nipple into the nuzzling lips. She felt their pull upon her, amazed by the strength and depth of the need there, the compulsion of bonding it brought. Together they drifted to their separate sleep.

      When she woke the next morning, feeling ravenous and fully alert, the room was empty. Moments later the door opened and Mrs. Edgeworth entered, trailed by a strange man who strode to her bedside and sat down on Lucille’s chair as if it had been set out there especially for him.

      “This is Mr. Clayton Thackeray, .,” she said to Lily with a tremor in her voice. “He’s come all the way from Toronto, from the government, to see you, ifyou’re feeling up to it.”

      “I’m feelin’ all right,” Lily said, staring at the intruder from the city. He was formally attired in spats and morning coat and stiff collar; his face was obsessively whiskered with a pair of hooded eyes like two chips of anthracite. No amount of girdling could control the overbite of his belly.

      “I’m glad to hear it, child,” said the member of the Legislature, as if to the Opposition benches. “We have important business to discuss, vitalbusiness.”

      Mrs. Edgeworth closed the door to mute as best as possible the booming rhetoric of his delivery, then stood leaning against it and watching.

      “I would like you to listen carefully to what I have to say. While you may find parts of it distasteful, I want you to remember that my communication to you comes from the highest authority in the land, that the decisions which have been taken have been thoroughly and humanely considered, and that the best interests of all concerned will be served by ready obedience.” Lily studied him, conceding nothing, offering nothing. She recognized the official timbre of the voice and braced herself. When he turned slightly to Mrs. Edgeworth for support, she was staring at the carpet.

      “Well, then,” he began again, “I’ve been asked by the Honourable Mr. Murchison to convey to you the following information. We have it from the highest authority,”“that the father of the child, a man of pre-eminence as you know, wishes to it raised in the most congenial and appropriate circumstances. With the welfare of the child uppermost in mind, certain investigations, shall we say, were carried out in Port Sarnia. Alas, the results were not favourable. I’m sure I do not need to tell you that the financial and particularly the, ah, moralcircumstances of the Ramsbottom household leave much to be desired.”

      Lily looked questioning.

      “What the gentleman means, dear-heart, is that your Uncle and Aunt don’t go to church regularly,” said Mrs. Edgeworth.

      “What the gentleman means, child, is that the motherof the babe’s father insists that it be raised in the Church of England, a not unreasonable request, you will agree.”

      Only Mrs. Edgeworth, faintly, agreed.

      “And in this instance the grandmother’swishes are paramount, as only you know,” he said to Lily. “Hence these decisions have been taken in the best interests of all concerned. The child will go to Toronto with its nurse to be adopted by a prominent family there who know generallyabout the circumstances of its conception and birth and, in spite of such, have, in the most magnanimous and humanitarian of gestures, offered to give this poor creature life and hope.”

      Lily flinched. “It is all for the best, Lily, I believe that,” said Mrs. Edgeworth near tears.

      “Indeed so,” said Thackeray. “The wet-nurse is packed and ready to go, as is the infant itself. Mrs. Edgeworth will have the satisfaction of knowing that she not only saved the reputation of a wayward girl but that the illegitimate offspring of the unfortunate union will be given a second chance at life. You, my child, will suffer briefly at the loss of an infant not yet dear to you, but may return to your own family purified and renewed. As a bonus for any inconvenience, I am also authorized to tell you that a cash settlement in compensation has already been deposited in your Aunt’s account in a Port Sarnia bank.”

      Clayton Thackeray sat back waiting for some response , be it tears, rage, or thanks. He got nothing. Finally rising, he said to Mrs. Edgeworth, “Not a soul in Port Sarnia has gained a whiff of this. It’s been handled with the utmost discretion and concern for the feelings of those involved. The girl will return with not a single blot upon her character.” With that, he swept out, Mrs Thackeray following behind to see him properly away.

      A moment later Mrs. Edgeworth returned. Lily had not moved.

      “Oh, Lily. Mr. Thackeray asked me to find out something important for him. It seems the lady in Toronto who’s going to adopt the babe wants to know, just for herself, the last name of the babe’s mother. I’m to write it down on this card.”

      Apparently Lily didn’t hear, her mind far away.

      “It will all work out, dear-heart,” Mrs. Edgeworth said, dropping all pretense. “We’ll work it out together.” She took Lily’s hand, its calluses grown smooth, its flesh pink again. “Can you tell me your name? Not Ramsbottom, but the one you had before you were taken in.”

      “Fair Child…” Lily said distractedly

      Mrs. Edgeworth wrote it down.

      It was July 4. If she were home now Lily would be watching the fireworks display across the River as the Yankees celebrated the seizing of their liberty. Many people took the ferry over and stood in the grounds of Fort Gratiot to view the skyrockets soared independently starward, hear the army band strike up a victory march and the guns that had driven the British back where they belonged boom over the non-partisan blue of the fresh-water sea to the north.

      According to all observers, Lily was “recuperating nicely.” She left her room for daily walks about the garden. She let Lucille chatter on at will. The colour flowed back into her cheeks; the freckles reappeared with it.

      Lily knew this hurt was permanent, like many others before it. It seemed safer, she thought, to stay inside the ache, to let it be continually numbing, and build whatever remained of her life around it. But, as before, the sun rose each day with impudent optimism, the rosebushes stretched and infected the garden with their ungirded profligacy. The wind sweetened her chamber each morning. She ate and grew lithe again. At night she held the jasper talisman in her fist, and waited for a sign of its magic to re-enter the world.

      In the meantime, she realized she must write to Bridie. Mrs. Edgeworth helped her, the day after the baby’s swift departure, by writing down Lily’s words СКАЧАТЬ