Chapter 19
My darling girl is having a baby. The doctor confirmed it today and I am delighted. She was nervous about telling me, poor love.
‘Other girls I know who have ended up in the family way have always lost out when they’ve told their gentlemen friends,’ she explained after she burst into tears with her announcement.
I gathered her into my arms and hugged her, assuring her of my happiness.
‘Tilly’s fella gave her money to move away and not to contact him again. ’
‘Then Tilly’s fella is a scoundrel,’ I replied. Although, I know ‘Tilly’s fella’; it’s Rupert Constantine, wealthy beyond belief but with the morals of an alley cat. His poor wife is at her wits’ end. Rupert has a mistress in every town, so Tilly is better off out of Rupert’s way.
This weekend, it is imperative to return home to Cerensthorpe Abbey to attend to estate business.
My heart is full with the thought of seeing my son, Ernest, and, it is with the deepest regret, he is never likely to know he is to have a brother or sister.
My joy is tinged with sadness: will they ever meet?
This is a sobering thought and, not for the first time, the precariousness of this new life of mine is revealed.
During my time at Cerensthorpe, I shall organise a meeting with my solicitor to ensure provision for Helena and the little one.
Helena has asked whether she may visit Cerensthorpe Abbey.
It’s an interesting request and she has not pushed the point.
After all, if anything were to happen to Veronica, then my sweet Helena would be the lady of Cerensthorpe Abbey.
There would be no doubt I would marry her in an instant.
I shall think on it. Perhaps one day when Veronica is away staying with her family in Norfolk, I could arrange for Helena to visit the home I love so dearly.
Such is my excitement over the baby, I have quite forgotten to record the other astonishing fact, and other reason for my trip home.
Selwyn believes the manuscript I found is a genuine work by the poet and writer, Geoffrey Chaucer.
He claims it is a copy of The Canterbury Tales from the time of the great man himself and has suggested it was written between 1397 and 1400.
The extraordinary thing is, instead of the usual twenty-four stories with prologues, there is a twenty-fifth entitled, The Mother’s Tale.
Selwyn believes it may have been added at another time by a different writer.
The writing style is akin to later in the fifteenth or early sixteenth century.
Chaucer died in October 1400, making it impossible for him to be the author of the twenty-fifth story.
It’s a mystery, but Selwyn has said the boffins at the British Museum have agreed to authenticate the document.
I have decided to build a strongroom behind a bookcase in the library where the book shall remain safe until I have decided its future.
Last night, Helena and I discussed the mysterious manuscript at length.
She is a well-read girl, who loved libraries when she was growing up, and suggested I should leave it to our child, as she too will be hidden, a mystery, like the manuscript.
It made me feel uncomfortable, especially when I explained the document was part of the estate and would, in the fullness of time, pass to Ernest. Helena cried and was quiet for the rest of the evening.
She is my heart and soul, my desire is always to ensure her happiness, therefore, I shall rethink the parameters of my will.