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Ricky and I were too besotted with each other--and, yes, brimming with lust--to think about the consequences. Not that I knew what they were. No one had thought to teach me about the birds and the bees. What little I knew of sex had been gleaned from the records my sister loved to listen to. Songs of mischief and romance that made it all seem like harmless fun.
And it was incredibly fun. Ricky brought me pleasure in ways I didn’t think possible. When someone makes you feel that good, it’s hard to pay attention to the fact it could all go bad.
In hindsight, I suppose it was inevitable that I would get pregnant. I could tell immediately, by the way, despite my limited knowledge. Between the morning sickness, my insatiable appetite, and my missed period, I knew without a doubt I was pregnant. What I didn’t know was what to do about it.
I waited weeks before telling Ricky, fearing he’d react badly to the news. I’d read many books in which women in my position were treated poorly by the men who put them there. I feared I’d bejust like those doomed characters. That Ricky wouldn’t believe me or, worse, run away, leaving me all alone in my very dire predicament. To my relief and surprise, he was elated.
“So you’re happy about this?” I asked after I told him.
“I’m going to be a father,” he said. “I’m overjoyed!”
But both of us knew we were in a tricky situation, for so many reasons. Ricky told me he needed time to plan, and I did, too.
Our unexpected joy thus became our biggest secret. One that was surprisingly easy for me to keep. No one paid me much mind to begin with, so it went mostly unnoticed when I started gaining weight. Yes, I heard tut-tutting from my mother’s maid when I asked her to let out my clothes an inch or two. And of course I noticed the servant girls stifle their judgmental giggles when I requested a second helping at dinner. I didn’t mind that everyone thought I was simply getting fat. It meant that no one suspected the truth.
Those five months or so were the happiest I’d ever been. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone. I always had someone with me--a constant companion right there in my belly.
I took great--albeit secret--pride in knowing I was about to bring another life into this world. Gone was the girl who’d considered jumping from the terrace on her birthday. I was now a woman with a purpose. The thought of bearing a child and raising it with Ricky made me hopeful about the future.
One evening in early September, I snuck Ricky up to my room to discuss that future. It was a Tuesday, and the house was mostly empty. Miss Baker had been given the night off with the rest of the servants, which was customary every other Tuesday, and my sister had gone off with friends. My father was gone as well, heading to Boston on some emergency business. The London stock exchange had just crashed, and there were growing fears the same thing would happen here.
Since I knew my mother wasn’t about to leave her room--or herlaudanum--I felt confident I could bring Ricky upstairs and we could share a bed like a proper couple.
We made love that night. Tenderly at first, mindful of the child growing in my womb. But lust soon took over, as it always did, and Ricky ravaged me in a way I never knew I wanted or needed.
Afterward, as we contently laid together, I pictured our lives being exactly like that night. Just me, Ricky, and the baby, together in a small cottage somewhere far away from Hope’s End.
“I wish things were different and we didn’t have to sneak around like this,” Ricky said as he held me in his arms. “I wish I was a better man.”
I looked at him, concerned. “What do you mean? You’re wonderful.”
“Hardly,” Ricky said with a dismissive sniff. “You deserve better than what I have to offer. You--and our child--deserve a man who can take care of you properly. I’ve been saving for months and yet I still barely have two nickels to scrape together.”
He tried to slide out of bed, but I clung to him, keeping him from leaving. “If it’s money you’re worrying about, don’t. My family has plenty.”
“I refuse to take a penny from your father,” Ricky said.
I wasn’t talking about my father, whom I’d started to suspect didn’t have as much money as he claimed. Recently, when passing his office, I’d heard a heated phone call between him and the man who managed his company’s finances.
“What do you mean the money’s no longer there?” he shouted into the phone. “What happened to it?”
I was referring to me and my sister, who were set to inherit the sizable fortune left behind by my grandparents. They had neither liked nor trusted my father, and when they died, they left nothing to their only daughter out of fear it would be squandered. Instead, their money was split between me and my sister and placed in a trust that neither of us could access until we turned eighteen.
“I’m talking about my money,” I said. “Well, what will soon be mine.”
Even about that, I wasn’t certain. The main reason I hadn’t yet told my family I was pregnant was out of fear they’d disown me once they found out. That seemed the likeliest course of action, considering Ricky’s situation and status. Add in the fact that we had conceived out of wedlock and it was a recipe for disappointment, anger, and punishment. If it weren’t for the money, I wouldn’t have minded being disowned. I hated Hope’s End and wanted nothing more to do with it. That humble cottage with Ricky and our child was all I needed.
Ricky seemed shocked by the prospect of possessing money he hadn’t earned. “What kind of man would I be if I let you pay our way?”
“The man I love,” I said.
He finally freed himself from my grasp and reached for his trousers. “Can you love a man with zero pride? Because that’s what I’d become. I’m not some charity case.”
I watched, hurt, as Ricky slid on his pants and began pacing the room, his hands shoved into his empty pockets.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said.
“Well, you did.”