married.â
For a moment she thought that she had misheard him. But then he repeated it. She was surprised, but not surprised. She had wondered whether he might say this, ever since she announced to him that she was pregnant. She had been unable to stop herself from entertaining the possibility, and had considered, at length, what her response would be. And now that the moment had come, she found herself hesitating. What if she said yes right there and then?
Instead she said, âItâs a rather public proposal, isnât it, Jamie?â She gestured about her.
Jamie blushed. âIâm sorry. But itâs just that you brought up the whole issue of my being around. I felt that I had to say something.â
She reassured him. âYes, I understand.â
âAnd?â
âI know you feel you have to ask me,â she said. âBut I think we should wait. I really do. Letâs wait some time and see how things go. That makes more sense, you know.â
He did not say anything for a minute or two, and she imagined that he was wrestling with himself. If he really wanted to marry her, she thought, he would press her again. But if he had merely proposed out of a sense of duty, then he would probably accept her suggestion with some relief.
âAll right,â he said at last. âLetâs see.â
She realised how tense she had been; now she relaxed. But she felt a certain sadness that he had gone along with her suggestion, even though she knew that this was the right thing to do, and that quite the wrong thing for her to do would be to allow him to marry her. And that, in a way, was the burden of being a philosopher: one knew what one had to do, but it was so often the opposite of what one really wanted to do.
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CHAPTER THREE
B Y THE TIME Grace arrived at the house the next morning, Isabel had bathed Charlie, given him his breakfast bottle, and was standing in front of the drawing-room window, encouraging him to look out over the garden. She was not sure how much he saw, but she was convinced that he was interested and was gazing fixedly at one of the rhododendrons. As she held Charlie before the window and rocked him gently, Isabel saw Grace walking up the front path, although Grace did not spot her. Grace had a newspaper tucked under her arm and was carrying the white canvas tote bag that accompanied her to work each day. This bag was often empty, and hung flaccid from Graceâs arm, but on occasion it bulged with tantalizing shapes that intrigued Isabel and that she wished she could ask Grace about. She knew, though, that there was usually at least a book in the bag, as Grace was a keen reader and had a sacrosanct lunch hour during which she would sit in the kitchen, immersed in a novel from the Central Library, a cup of tea getting steadily colder in front of her.
Since Charlieâs arrival, the nature of Graceâs job had changed. This change had required no negotiation, with Grace assuming that Isabel would need help with the baby and that naturally this would take priority over her normal, more mundane duties of cleaning and ironing.
âIâll look after him while youâre working,â Grace had announced. âAnd also when you want to go out. I like babies. So thatâs fine.â The tone of her voice indicated that there needed to be no further discussion.
Isabel was happy with the new understanding, but even had she not been, she would have hesitated to contradict Grace. Although Isabel was nominally Graceâs employer, Grace regarded herself as still working for Isabelâs father, who had died years before and in whose service as housekeeper she had spent all her working life. Either that, or she thought of herself as being employed in some strange way by the house itself; which meant that her loyalty, and source of instructions, was really some authority separate from and higher than Isabel.
The practical consequences of this were that