William Monk 07 - Weighed in the Balance

under the blanket which covered his knees. It was extremely cold in the carriage, and for once he did not resent being tucked up.
    “No, she isn’t,” she agreed.
    “What?” He turned to look at her, his face puzzled and slack with disbelief. “Didn’t you hear what my father said? He said that woman … that woman …” He took a difficult, jerky breath. “Even before I was born, she didn’t want me! She wanted to have me … destroyed!”
    “She isn’t your mother in any sense that matters,” Hestersaid gravely. “She gave up that right. Dagmar Ollenheim is your mother. She is the one who reared you, who loved you and wanted you. You are the only child she has. You simply have to think of her at any time during all the years you have been alive to know how deeply she loves you. Have you ever doubted it before?”
    “No …” He was still having difficulty catching his breath, as if something were crushing his chest. “But that … that other woman is still my mother! I’m part of her!” He glanced at Hester with wide, agonizing eyes. “That’s who I am! I can’t get away from it, I can’t forget it! I came from her body! From her mind!”
    “Her body,” Hester corrected. “Not her mind. Your mind and your soul are your own.”
    A new horror dawned on him.
    “Oh, God! What will Victoria think of me? She’ll know! She’ll read it on some … some sandwich board, hear it from a newsboy in the street. Someone will tell her! Hester … I’ve got to tell her first!” His words tumbled over each other. “Take me to where she lives! I’ve got to be the one to tell her. I can’t let her find out from anyone else. Where does she live? I never even asked her!”
    “She has lodgings in Bloomsbury. But you can’t go there now. You must wait for her to come to you—”
    “No! I must tell her. I can’t bear …”
    “You must,” she said firmly. “Think of your mother … I mean Dagmar, not that other woman, who has no claim on you at all. Think how Dagmar must be feeling now. Think of your father, who loved you even before you were born, who fought for your life! They need your support. They need to know that you are all right and that you understand.”
    “But I must tell Victoria before—”
    She held his hands hard. “Robert! Do you not think Victoria would most want you to do what is right, what is gentle andhonorable and loving to those who have loved you all your life?”
    It was minutes before he relaxed. They lurched and swayed through the darkening streets. The level of light in the carriage flickered as they passed the lampposts and moved into the mist and shadows between.
    “Yes … I suppose so,” he conceded at last. “But I must see her tonight. I must send a message to her. I must see her before she hears it somewhere else. Otherwise I may never have the chance to tell her I love her. She will know my mother is … God knows what! I am … I am part of that woman and I don’t want to be, so desperately I almost wish I had never been born. How can it happen, Hester? How can it be that you can be born part of someone you loathe and abhor? It is so unfair it is unbearable.”
    “You are not part of her,” Hester said firmly. “You are you … whatever you choose to be. Whatever she has done, it is not your fault. It is wretched for you, because people can judge cruelly—and you are right, it is unfair. But you should know better than to blame yourself.”
    She waited a moment while a dray rattled past them. “Nothing she is has anything to do with who you are, unless you want it to,” she went on. “Sin is not an inherited disease. You cannot pass it from parent to child. Nor can you pass the blame. That is one thing about responsibility … you cannot ever take anyone else’s, no matter how you love them, and no one can give you theirs. We each stand alone. Whatever Gisela did, and she couldn’t have killed Friedrich, you are not answerable to anyone for it … not to society, not to Victoria, and not to yourself.”
    Her grip tightened on his arm. “But listen to me, Robert! You are responsible for what you do now, for how you treat your father, or Dagmar. You are responsible if you think now only of your own pain and confusion, and turn away from theirs.”
    He bent his head in total weariness, and she put her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could, reaching up and touching his hair with her hand, gently, as if he