otherwise taking no interest in the child.
I suspect Grandfather must have been something of an ogre. When I told Edmund that I felt a little sorry for Father, he scoffed at such âfeminine fanciesâ. To him it is straightforward: Father should not have formed a liaison against his familyâs wishes, should not have eloped, nor got the girl pregnant. Also he should have told Edmund about the child as soon as he learned of its existence which was on Grandfatherâs death. When I pointed out that the âitâ was a âheâ, and our half-brother, it put Edmund in a fearful temper and he stormed off outside.
Sunday 27 December
Last night I wrote a list of all the questions I still have and this morning prevailed upon Aunt Marjorie to address them. She told me I was far too inquisitive and it was not at all becoming. When I persisted she threw up her hands and said she was too busy to be bothered with it, and was I not aware of how ill all this was making Mother?
Knowing my uncle responds far better than my aunt to a reasoned argument I hunted him out and requested an interview. Principally, I wished to know whether mygrandfather also disapproved of Fatherâs second marriage (hence us); whether, if the marriage was annulled, Edmund needs consider our half-brother a threat to his inheritance; and whether there would be anything inherently wrong with getting to know our half-brother. Uncle Aubrey heard me out and gave the following answers: as he understood it, my grandfather had intended that Father return to England after a few years; he did not disapprove of Mother, but of Fatherâs decision to remain in the Colonies. He did not consider Harry Clark a threat to Edmund, but believes we must be guided by our parents regarding contact with him.
So that is that. My feeling is that Father has nothing to be ashamed of, either in having been twice in love, or in having married against his parentsâ wishes, if it was a love match. But that he let my grandfather bully him into abandoning the young woman, for whom it must have been a frightful experience, casts him in a less favourable light. Perhaps it is pardonable given he was so young (how young, exactly, no one has said) and because he did not know she was with-child. And not knowing of Harryâs birth, he cannot be held accountable for failing in his duty on Harryâs account. What happens now, however, is something of a mystery.
28 December
Winifred called to offer the Seasonâs Greetings and to invite me to a supper party on New Yearâs Eve. I confess, with the furore in the house, I had all but forgotten her. I said I was not sure whether I could attend with Mother so unwell, and felt something of a fraud, as I could not tell her what was really ailing Mother.
30 December
As if we have not enough to contend with, Edmund and Father last night had a rather loud falling out and now Edmund has disappeared â where to, I do not find it hard to guess. Father is furious and Mother has completely collapsed. Aunt Marjorie told Uncle Aubrey that he simply must deal with the situation as she cannot cope with any more. The Doctor has been called; Mother seriously unwell.
Later
Uncle Aubrey has gone to discover Edmundâs whereabouts. Dr Chiltern spent considerable time with Mother and will return later. Aunt Marjorie insists all is well but it is clear she has been weeping.
31 December
No one slept last night. I am fuzzy with tiredness and feel as if the noise of a pin falling might split my head open. And now I am barred from Motherâs room, while Dr Chiltern and a woman he brought with him come and go. Aunt Marjorie told me an hour ago that it is the baby, but would answer none of my questions. I wish I knew more.
Later
I have just stood outside Motherâs room and heard the most fearsome wailing. I do wish Edmund was here. With all the bother I had quite forgotten Winifredâs party. Aunt Marjorie says I must
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