“I know, but I’m sure I’ll be fine with your sister to look after me.”
“Aye, an’ they ’ave a kind’earted ’ousekeeper there, too. I won’t worry with you in good ’ands.”
Christina didn’t tell Tommy she was leaving when he came to call that night. She left that for Johnsy to do after her departure.
After a journey of three days, Christina arrived at the vast estate known as Victory in the late afternoon. They had driven for the last half-hour over the Caxton land. Christina realized that it was at least twice the size of Wakefield. The sprawling three-story brownstone mansion covered with moss and ivy was magnificent.
Christina grasped the knocker, a large iron “C,” on the towering double doors and let it fall twice. She felt nervous about coming to people she didn’t know, and thought it ironic that she should come to the home of a man named Caxton to have her baby, sired by a man named Caxton.
The door opened then, and a small, chubby woman peered out and smiled warmly. She had black hair streaked heavily with gray and knotted at the back of her head, and soft gray eyes.
“You must be Christina Wakefield. Come in—come in. I’m Johnsy’s sister, Mavis. I can’t tell you how glad we are that you’ve come here to have your baby,” she said cheerfully, ushering Christina into a mammoth hall that towered at least two stories high. “When the messenger come this morning bringing the news that you were on your way, why, it put this old house to life again.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Christina said.
“Nonsense, child! What trouble could you be? There’s nothing but idle hands in this house, what with the master always gone. You are truly welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like—the longer the better.”
“Thank you,” Christina returned.
The great hall, dimly lit, was lined with ancient tapestries depicting battle scenes and landscapes. Two curving staircases lay at the end of the hall, with heavy, intricately carved double doors between them. Chairs, couches, and marble statues stood against both walls.
Christina was awed. “I’ve never seen such a huge hall. It’s beautiful.”
“Yes, the whole house is the same—big and lonely. It needs a family living in it, but I don’t think I’ll live long enough to see that happen. The master seems not to want to marry and have children.”
“Oh—he’s young, then?” Christina was surprised. She’d pictured him as old and feeble.
“So I’m told, and irresponsible as well. He prefers living abroad to running his estate. But come, you must be exhausted after traveling across the countryside in your condition. I’ll take you to your room, and you can rest before dinner,” Mavis said, leading Christina up the stairs. “You know, Miss Christina, your baby will be the first to be born here in two generations. The housekeeper, Emma, told me Lady Anjanet was the last, and she was an only child.”
“Then Mr. Caxton was not born here?” Christina asked.
“No, he was born across the sea. Lady Anjanet traveled a great deal when she was young,” Mavis replied.
A feeling of uneasiness began to creep over Christina, but she shook it off.
“I will put you in the east wing—it catches the morning sun,” Mavis said. They reached the second floor and started down the long corridor. It, too, was hung with beautiful tapestries.
Christina stopped when she came to the first door. It stood open, and the blue interior reminded her of her own room. She was amazed at the size and beauty of the room. The carpet and drapes were dark-blue velvet, and the furniture and coverlet on the massive bed were a lighter blue. There was a huge black-marble fireplace.
“Could I stay in this room?” Christina asked impulsively. “Blue is my favorite color.”
“Of course you can, child. I am sure Mr. Caxton won’t mind. He is never home.”
“Oh—I didn’t know this was his room. I couldn’t possibly—”
“That’s all right, child. The room needs to be lived in. It hasn’t been occupied for well over a year now. I’ll have your baggage brought in here.”
“But aren’t his things—his belongings in this room?”
“Yes, but the room was made for two people to live in. There is plenty of empty space for you.”
After dinner, Mavis gave Christina a tour of the downstairs. The kindly housekeeper, Emmaline Lawrence, joined them. The servants’ quarters, a large library, and a school-room were on the third floor. The west wing’s second floor was never used, but downstairs a large ballroom covered the entire back of the house. Christina saw the kitchen, a large banquet room, and a smaller dining room on one side of the house. And on the other side was the master’s study and the drawing room.
The drawing room was beautifully done in green and white, with many portraits adorning the walls. Christina was drawn to the largest of them, hanging above the fireplace. She stood before it looking into a pair of sea-green eyes flecked with gold. It was the portrait of a lovely woman, her coal-black hair flowing over bare shoulders. Christina’s earlier uneasiness returned, powerfully.
“That is Lady Anjanet,” Emma informed Christina. “She was so beautiful. Her grandmother was Spanish—that’s where she got her black hair, but her eyes are from her father’s side of the family.”
“She looks so sad,” Christina whispered.
