Chapter 3: Maria tells Ellie about the Crimson Bed

A long two weeks had passed since this tumultuous incident occurred. That autumn day in the woods would be a vivid memory for the rest of Ellie's life and just now occupied all her waking thoughts. She could not help feeling shocked by it all, startled by her new understanding of what a man was really like. All she had ever seen of a naked male was her furtive study of the fig-leafed Tritons that adorned the marble fountain at Oreton Hall. The reality was so different. She could never be the same after this. For the first time she comprehended just what Adam and Eve had felt about their nakedness. They had eaten of the Tree of Knowledge and could never feel pure and innocent again and walk in the sight of God. That she regretted. Back home again at the Farnham house in London, Ellie was upstairs in her mother's room where she often came to sit and ponder when her mind and heart were full. A book of Tennyson's poems lay on her lap, open at her favourite 'The Lady of Shalott' and she murmured half aloud:

'...when the Moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed. "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott.'

And she sighed deeply and felt her heart opening up with an almost agonizing pain of longing. She wanted to be back at Oreton Hall with Alfie and, yes, shameful as it seemed, back in the woods, his hands touching her body again, the feel of flesh on flesh, his entering into her. Her body shook with the intense longing. A tear trickled down her cheek. Was she really so shameful and all this very evil and wrong of her? Was it wrong to love and wanting that love to become a physical expression? She was astonished that it did not happen more often if it was as difficult to resist as this. She knew that she was not a person without discipline or sense. What powerful force was this that had overcome them both so easily?

Feeling lost, she gazed about the room redolent with her mother's gentle presence. Ellie often sat here for hours on the old carved chair that was like a throne, looking out of the window over the garden. Through the passing years the sycamore trees had grown tall, half-shrouding the window with their leafy foliage, creating a constant quivering twilight within.

The fireplace, which always seemed too large for the room, was surrounded with carved oak panelling that rose from the mantle to the ceiling. Maria always kept a fire going in the grate for she also liked to come in here when she wished to write or read and was aware of her daughter's habit of slipping in now and then. The warm glow of the coals took away the darkness: a warm heart at its centre. Though the room was dim and shrouded, it was never dismal in Ellie's eyes; rather it felt a peaceful place. Nothing ever seemed to change in here. Everything was in its familiar place and this had a comforting feeling about it. It was the one sure, stable, unchanging place in the world and she felt something of her mother's strength just by being there.

Maria, always a woman ahead of her time, had not left her uneducated or ignorant of life's details as so many mothers did. Thus added to Ellie's sense of betrayal was the fear that she might be with child. She turned the idea over with all its implications.

In the end, why be concerned? She knew these things happened and had overheard gossip about couples who were obliged to marry in haste. Of course, she and Alfie would marry; it was what everyone desired and expected. It must be. Mustn't it?

Maria came in to find her daughter seated by the window, looking pensive and sad.

'What is it, dear child?'

Ellie kept her head turned away. She could not speak about it. Speaking might make it all seem prosaic and lose the magic. Parents would be bothered about the silly practical details, especially her father.

Her mother smoothed her cheek with her hand in the old familiar, comforting manner.

'Can't you tell me, Ellie? You've been distracted of late. I worry that you're not eating well. Are you sickening for something, dearest?'

Ellie forced a smile. 'No, no, Mama, I'm very well. I'm - I'm just being a little vain. I want to lace myself a bit tighter to fit my lovely new dress. I want to have the tiniest waist in the world!'

'I see. Well, that's rather foolish. You're perfect as you are - so let us have no more of this nonsense.'

Maria sounded unconvinced. Ellie felt her stomach turn over and knew a strong desire to bury herself somewhere out of the probing searching glance of her mother's eyes.

Suddenly Maria laughed a little and added playfully, 'Why, child, you're in love, I can tell.'

Ellie said nothing. Her cheeks flushed a light pink.

'Oh, you cannot hide it. You've always been an open child, Ellie.'

Ellie smiled a little, then turned away again and remained silent. Maria took her by the chin and turned her face towards her. Dropping the playful tone she said, 'Very well, keep it in your heart for a while. Keep it in your heart. Just be sure it's not a love that could harm you.'

'How can love be harmful?' asked Ellie, feeling as if tears would gush into her eyes at any moment, giving her away. She forced them back with an effort. She was not surprised her mother had guessed at her feelings. Maria always knew everything.

'It can be if misplaced.'

Ellie fell silent again.

Giving her daughter one more puzzled glance, Maria went to her dressing table where she kept a small tabletop writing desk and seated herself there. Opening the lid, she took out paper and quills and a small sealed inkwell. Before beginning her daily letters she paused for a moment and looked thoughtfully at the huge bed that dominated the room. Here she had borne her one and only child. Here she too had been born and others before her.

'One day this great bed will be yours,' she said.

'When I'm a bride?'

'Of course. That's the family custom.'

'But where will you sleep then, Mama?'

'I will just have to get used to another bed.'

'That would be so strange for you.'

'It would be strange, but I would be happy to see my darling girl a bride. You've always loved this bed. You will keep it?'

'Yes, I promise, Mama.'

'I would hate to think of strangers sleeping on it.'

'Strangers will never sleep on this bed,' said Ellie firmly,'it belongs to us.'

Ellie smiled to herself at the thought of being a bride and climbing into the crimson bed with her beloved Alfie. He was no stranger and belonged in the bed.

Crossing over to the window, she looked down into the garden below. Her eyes followed the twirling of an ochre leaf as it detached itself from a tree and drifted to the ground, slowly, slowly - and her mind went back in time. She felt herself sinking down onto the leaves, felt Alfie's breath on her cheek, the sensation as he took her. She should remember the beauty of it, not the shame. The shame was not natural - their act was what was natural.

She turned to look again at the huge oak bed in the centre of the room. Had Papa ever been in this bed? He must have come sometimes, a guest, or she would not be alive. It had never troubled her before that she had no brothers or sisters. She enjoyed being alone, the spoilt and petted child of a devoted couple, but now she was older and wiser she wondered about it. Her mother had told her long ago that she had difficulty in conceiving a child and how happy she and Joshua had been when Ellie was born safe and well. Ellie looked at the dashing gentleman carved on the bed head. A gallant lover! A thrill of secret pleasure ran though her and a tender smile curved over her lips

When she turned back, she found her mother had ceased writing and was watching her with a peculiar intensity as if trying to look inside her mind. The tell-tale smile left Ellie's face and she glanced down. Maria went back to the letters, but a sudden fear troubled her and her eyes snapped back to her daughter's face in apprehension. She saw Ellie's little smile again. She recognised that kind of smile. She looked down at her little writing desk and began to write another missive, waved the page dry, sealed it then rang for her maid.