Gossamer Cord

He said it was a bad time. There was an inquest. The verdict was, of course, death by drowning. He said the sea was safe enough most of the time, but you have to watch for winds and cross-currents.

That really is what I wanted to tell you. It has made a difference. I wanted you to know first, but somehow I really didn’t want to think about it…so I kept putting off writing.

If you were here, I could talk to you. That would be easier. When one is writing it seems more serious, more important. If I could only talk to you, it would be so different.

So, don’t tell the parents…yet. I wonder what they’ll say? I’m just telling you at the moment. Everyone here knows about it, of course. There’s always gossip. The servants are watching all the time. As I said, they are suspicious of me. I am not one of them. I heard one of them refer to me as “Mr. Dermot’s foreign lady.” I did mention this to Matilda and she laughed and said, “Everyone’s a foreigner from the other side of the Tamar.” So you see how it is.

I had to let you know this. Oh, how I wish you were here!

Your twin sister,

Dorabella

The letter disturbed me. Had she been in a certain mood when she wrote it? How much did it portray her real feelings? I knew her well. She could change her mind from one moment to another.

But whatever her mood, the fact remained that Dermot had been married before—and it was certainly strange that he had not mentioned it.

I think we should have seen him rather differently if we had known. He had seemed so light-hearted, so young. Had he been afraid of losing Dorabella? Why otherwise should he want to keep his first marriage a secret?

I should have liked to talk it over with my mother, but Dorabella had expressly said: “Don’t tell the parents yet.” And I must respect this confidence.

So I did not tell her that I had received the letter; she would have expected to read it if I had, for we shared Dorabella’s letters.

I hated the subterfuge, but I decided that I must wait for Dorabella’s permission before I divulged this secret.

I thought a great deal about Dorabella after that time and wondered whether I ought to go down to see her. I was still anxious about my mother. She was not really ill, but I liked to make sure that she did not go out in cold winds or rain which she might do without me to restrain her. Her cold still hung on and I felt torn between them.

And then came the next letter.

This was change indeed. This was Dorabella exultant…and yet a little fearful.

My dear Vee,

What do you think? I am going to have a baby. I am so excited. Can you believe it? Me…a mother!

I have been to the doctor and it is confirmed. I would not have told you until it was. Dermot is thrilled. So is Matilda…and the old man, too. And as for Gordon, even he seems quite interested.

I’m a bit scared, just a little, of course. It is rather an ordeal, you know. It has happened rather soon, but there’s a long time to go yet.

Just fancy! You’ll be Auntie Vee. It sounds a bit fierce to me. I think Auntie Violetta sounds much softer. Names are important. I’ll have to get the right one for him/her.

Isn’t it marvelous? I’m writing to the parents. I wonder who’ll get their letter first, you or them. If you get yours first, tell them right away. Mummy will be Grandmamma and Daddy Grandpa. What nice ones they’ll make!

Lots of love from,

Dorabella,

“Mother-to-be”

I had taken the letter to my room to read, wondering whether there would be more revelations about Dermot’s first marriage. Revelations there had certainly been, but on a different subject.

Almost before I had had time to read the letter my mother came into my room. She had obviously received hers by the same post.

She was flushed and excited.

“You have heard, too,” she cried.

I nodded. She was smiling.

“Dorabella a mother! I can’t believe it. I thought it might be some time, of course…but not quite yet. How will she manage a baby?”

“People you least expect do turn out to be good mothers. She’ll have a nanny, I suppose.”

“We’ll both go,” said my mother. “And now we must tell your father. He will be so thrilled!”

The Cottage on the Cliffs

BEFORE THAT WEEK WAS out we were on our way to Cornwall.

Dermot and Dorabella met us at the station. Dorabella looked radiant and beautiful; the prospect of motherhood had changed her in a subtle way: There was a softness about her which made her seem more vulnerable than ever.

She flung herself at us. My mother hugged her and then it was my turn.

“It is wonderful that you have come,” she cried.

“With news like this, what did you expect?” asked my mother.

“Everybody’s thrilled, aren’t they, Dermot?”

Dermot confirmed this and tenderly told her not to get too excited.

My mother smiled fondly at this display of husbandly concern, and we got into the car and drove to the house.

Matilda was waiting to greet us.

“How nice to see you,” she said. “Dorabella has been hoping you’d come for ages. Of course, the weather has not been good.”

“It’s lovely now,” said my mother.

“Spring is here.”