‘I’m sorry,’ Milly repeated. ‘I feel so embarrassed.’

‘Please,’ he protested. ‘It doesn’t bother me. I’ve got broad shoulders.’ He gave her a grim smile. ‘What about you?’

‘She didn’t say a lot,’ Milly said, careful not to offend Seebold any further by relaying her mother’s comments. ‘It just hurts.’ Her face crumpled. ‘She’s still my mother.’

Seebold held her close again. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘There’s nothing to say,’ Milly said bitterly.

They sat for a while until Milly calmed down, then, blowing her nose, she said, ‘We’d better go. It must be almost lunch time and I have to be in the canteen if I want any lunch today.’

Chapter 20

There was blood on her knickers. Pearl stared down in horror. She’d had a dull ache in her stomach all morning but had put it down to eating too much the day before. Yesterday, Freddie had bought some French langoustines from one of the East Worthing fishermen. They were a favourite of his and, much to the annoyance of Mrs Cunningham, he had commandeered the kitchen to cook them himself. It was a rare moment of genuine pleasure for her, Freddie and her mother. They’d enjoyed a delightful meal and then he’d gone back to London where he had some business to attend to.

Earlier in the week, when he had arrived at Muntham Court for the first time, he’d seemed very impressed. He had wandered through the house with Pearl, admiring the décor and furnishings. In one of the bedrooms he had pulled her towards him and kissed her ferociously. ‘Sehr gut,’ he said huskily. ‘Meine englische Schönheit,’ and when he saw her confusion he chuckled and said in English, ‘You are my English rose, my perfect English rose.’ He would have taken her there and then, but the moment came to nothing when they heard her mother calling in the corridor.

The blood was a bit scary but, she told herself, it was only a few spots. Perhaps that was normal. Whilst it was true that she wasn’t that keen to be a mother, she and Freddie weren’t married yet. If she lost the baby, there was a good chance he would call a halt to their wedding, and what would she do then? Her mother had called her a silly little fool for getting pregnant, but how on earth could she have prevented it? And she never would have got Freddie if she hadn’t given in almost as soon as they’d met. That first time he had been so eager, so domineering, so rough.

Pearl changed her underwear and went back to the sitting room. Her mother had gone shopping in Worthing, so she was quite alone in the house – apart from Mrs Cunningham, of course. She lay on the sofa and cuddled a cushion. It was going to be so exciting to see the place where Freddie had grown up. He’d told her all about it. ‘A palace,’ he’d said. ‘Berlin Schlossplatz was first built in the fifteenth century and the surrounding area was planned at the same time. It’s very beautiful.’ He chuckled. ‘My home has a dome bigger than your St Paul’s.’

She’d gazed up at him, dewy-eyed. It was the stuff of dreams. When they married, she would be a baroness and living in a real palace.

The pain seemed to be fading. Perhaps everything was settling down now. Pearl moved her position to make herself more comfortable, stretching her legs and rolling onto her back. To take her mind off things, she thought back to that day when she and Freddie had walked around the house and grounds. It had been quite an education. He knew far more about the house than she did! She had no idea that it was covered with Jacobean flint, or that the pointy bits were called Dutch gables. He’d wanted to walk through the gardens, something her mother had advised her to discourage because – since the gardener had gone – it was becoming unkempt and overgrown. She’d hastily explained that Mr Bodkin had retired through old age and her mother was actively looking for a new man. It wasn’t true, of course, but Freddie accepted her explanation without question. He told her that whoever had created the garden with its dwarf box hedges, gravel walkways and seasonal flower beds had been trying to recreate a seventeenth-century garden. All news to Pearl, who hardly ever stepped outside the house except to go to London or Brighton.

She groaned. The pain was coming back. She wondered if she should say something to Mrs Cunningham but then thought better of it. Her mother would go mad if word got out around the village that she was to have anything other than the perfect marriage to the perfect man. Anyway, as far as everyone else was concerned, Pearl was as pure as the driven snow. She felt a gripping sensation at the base of her stomach, as if she needed to go to the toilet, but she didn’t. She got up and walked to the window to see if she could see her mother’s car. That’s when it happened. She wet herself and her knickers couldn’t contain it. Grabbing a small cushion, Pearl pushed it between her legs and headed for the stairs again. Halfway up, the gripping pain was back, only this time it was overwhelming. Clinging to the banister, she cried out loud as a wave of nausea swept over her and she felt her legs buckling beneath her. A voice behind her said, ‘Are you all right, miss?’ but Pearl couldn’t answer. Just before her legs gave way, she felt a pair of strong arms around her.

‘It’s all right, miss,’ Mrs Cunningham said in her ear. ‘I’ve got you.’

Somehow or other, the pair of them managed to get to her bedroom and Pearl collapsed onto the bed, drawing her knees towards her chin in an effort to lessen the pain. Mrs Cunningham left the room but came back a couple of minutes later with some towels. Lifting Pearl’s legs, she pushed the towels under her bottom and took the bloodied cushion away. ‘Oh, miss.’

Downstairs, they heard the front door open. Mrs Cunningham hurried to the top of the stairs and Pearl heard her saying, ‘Oh madam, come quickly. It’s Miss Pearl. I think she’s losing a baby.’

It was another three hours before Agatha could speak privately to Mrs Cunningham. Dr Jennings had arrived only twenty minutes after Agatha had rung him, and confirmed that Pearl had indeed lost her baby. Mrs Cunningham had helped Agatha clear up the mess, and the cushion and towels were burning in the garden. Pearl, exhausted by the turn of events, was sleeping.

Now that Dr Jennings was on his way home, Agatha called Mrs Cunningham into the sitting room where they could be alone.

‘I hope I can trust you to keep this a secret,’ Agatha told her one-time cook, who now worked as a general help. With little money apart from her allowance, Agatha had had to let Elsie, Bodkin the gardener and Dixon go. Hopefully, with Pearl married to the baron, the money would flow in once more and they’d be back up to a full suite of staff before long.

Mrs Cunningham looked hurt. ‘I am not one to gossip, madam, you know that.’

Agatha reached for a cigarette from the box on the table. ‘Then we shall say no more on the matter,’ she said, striking her lighter.

‘Of course,’ said Mrs Cunningham. ‘Shall the baron be returning from London?’

Agatha drew on her cigarette. ‘Why should he?’

‘Well, I thought . . .’ Mrs Cunningham began.

‘Apart from we three,’ Agatha said firmly, ‘there’s no need for anyone beyond these four walls – except, of course, Dr Jennings – to know what has taken place this afternoon. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Crystal,’ said Mrs Cunningham. She was appalled that Miss Pearl’s young man wasn’t to be told, but later on, in the kitchen, she began to understand why. The poor bugger was prepared to do the decent thing by marrying the girl he’d got into trouble, but that conniving bitch wasn’t going to let him off the hook, was she.

There was a tricky moment when Freddie telephoned that evening. Mrs Cunningham had picked up the receiver. She called Agatha and then went back to the kitchen, only she didn’t close the door. Standing just inside the room, she heard her employer say, ‘Darling, she’s in bed. Poor girl, she’s got the most frightful cold.’

There was a pause, then Agatha said, ‘Well, apart from a raging temperature, she seemed all right, but I thought it best to call the doctor. He said because of her condition she should have complete bedrest. I will go and call her if you insist but . . .’

Another pause, then, ‘I think it best, dear. Yes, yes, I’ll tell her you called. Bye now.’ Agatha replaced the receiver muttering, ‘Stupid boy.’

The next day Pearl’s physical pains had faded, but she felt very weepy and there was a hollow feeling in her chest. Dr Jennings had told her that her baby was gone. Gone, and she didn’t even know if it had been a boy or a girl. Freddie had wanted a son, of course, but now his dream was gone as well.

Her mother had sorted everything admirably, but she was not one to show any emotion. That afternoon she had sat on the edge of Pearl’s bed and given her what she called a ‘pep talk’.

‘You won’t tell Freddie any of this, of course,’ she began.

‘But he must know, Mummy. It was his baby too.’

‘Listen to me,’ Agatha said firmly. ‘Freddie doesn’t need to know until after the wedding. If you tell him before that, he may well change his mind.’

‘So what if he does?’ said Pearl. ‘I don’t love him, you know.’

‘Love,’ Agatha said scornfully. ‘You don’t get a good marriage if you do it for love. Marriage is a business arrangement. That’s why Freddie is so ideal. A rich man, a castle in Germany, the prospect of foreign travel to anywhere in the world, and even the possibility of meeting world leaders. My dear child, every woman in England would give their right arm for such a glittering prospect.’

Pearl blinked.

‘That is why you say nothing, do you hear?’

Her daughter appeared to be struck dumb by her mother’s calculating callousness.

‘Do you hear me?’ Agatha’s tone was more aggressive.

‘Yes. Yes, I hear you.’

‘Now, when he rings this evening, you tell him you’ve had a bad cold but you’re feeling much better now. Nobody but you and I and Dr Jennings need to know the real reason you’re in bed.’

‘What about Mrs Cunningham?’

‘She’ll do as she’s told,’ said Agatha dismissively. She rose to her feet. ‘I suggest you stay in bed for now. The doctor said he would come in this afternoon to look you over but it seems as if you’ve come through all this without a problem.’

‘Does this mean I can’t have any more babies?’

‘Of course not,’ her mother said. ‘You’ll have plenty of babies. Freddie is a fine young man. He’s got a wonderful pedigree and you’ll be back to normal in next to no time.’ She turned to leave the room, but as she put her hand on the doorknob she added, ‘But if you’ll take my advice, you’ll keep your legs crossed until after the wedding. He mustn’t know. Have you got that?’

Pearl nodded obediently. ‘Yes, Mummy.’

Chapter 21

December 1937