Time for Silence

by Philippa Carr

  “There is one ghost I know of,” said Thérèse. “It’s a lady who walks at night.”

  We all looked around the room expectantly.

  “Not here,” said Thérèse, “though I suppose quite a lot of the old ancestors are cross about the house being changed. Ghosts don’t like it when rooms are changed. Well, it would disturb them, wouldn’t it?”

  “Fancy having your haunting place changed!” said Helga.

  “And a lot of girls put in it,” Yvonne added.

  “Having midnight feasts in it,” said Anna B.

  “I wonder they don’t all come out and haunt us,” said Lucia.

  “It’s not our fault,” pointed out Caroline. “We didn’t make the change. We’re what you might call victims of circumstance. I think it is Madame Rochère who should look out.”

  “She’d frighten any ghost away,” declared Lucia.

  “How long is it since Madame Rochère made the change?” Yvonne prompted her guest.

  “I think it was about thirty years ago. Old houses take a lot of money to keep up. The Rochères lost a lot of their property in the revolution…so then they came to this one, just over the border. They lived here as they had in their French château…and then of course Madame Rochère couldn’t afford to keep it up any longer. She’d married Monsieur Rochère, but hers was a great French family, too, and this house was very important to her. Monsieur Rochère died quite young and as she couldn’t keep up the house she decided to turn it into a school.”

  “We all know that,” said Anna B. “What about the ghost?”

  “Oh, that was long before…about two hundred years.”

  “Time doesn’t count with ghosts,” said Anna B. “They can go on haunting for hundreds of years.”

  “This was a lady….”

  “It’s always ladies,” retorted Anna B. “They are better haunters than men.”

  “It’s because more awful things happen to them,” said Caroline. “They have a reason to come back…for retribution.”

  “Well, what about this ghost?” asked Yvonne.

  “Well,” said Thérèse, “it’s a lady. She was young and beautiful.”

  “They always are,” said Anna B.

  “Do you want to hear about this ghost or not?” asked Lucia.

  “Get on and tell us,” replied Anna B.

  “Well, she was young and beautiful. She had married the heir of La Pinière and then her husband caught a pox and his life was in danger.”

  “You get spots all over,” said Lucia. “And you are marked for life.”

  “That’s right,” went on Thérèse. “She should have left him alone. It was very infectious. Everyone warned her, but she insisted on nursing him herself. She would not let anyone else do it. She was with him night and day and she did it all herself. They said she was risking her life, for people died of it, you know.”

  “We did know,” said Anna B. “What happened to her? She died, I expect.”

  “Not then. Her husband was cured. It was all due to her nursing. He was better and there were no marks on him at all. All the spots had gone and left no scars. He was more handsome than ever. But no sooner was he on the way to recovery than she found she was suffering from the pox, which she had caught.”

  “From him!” said Lucia.

  “Of course from him,” said Anna B, “who else?”

  “Get on with the story,” cried Yvonne.

  “Well, her beauty was gone. She was covered in spots.”

  “And he nursed her back to health,” cut in Lucia.

  “He certainly did not. She got better but her face was all pitted. She wore a veil over it, and he…well, he didn’t love her anymore because she had lost her beauty…in caring for him.”

  “What a sad tale,” said Helga.

  “There’s more to come. He neglected her. He had a mistress!”

  There was a long sigh from everyone present. The girls were all sitting up. The story had taken on a new dimension with the introduction of the mistress.

  “You see, she had lost her looks from the pox, and then he did this to her. And what did she do?”

  “Killed the mistress…or him?” suggested Anna B.

  “No, she did not. She went up to the top of the tower…and jumped right down and killed herself.”

  There was a shocked silence.

  “And,” went on Thérèse, “she now walks. She is the ghost. She can’t rest. Every now and then she walks through the hall right up the spiral staircase…you know, the one that leads to the tower. You can hear her footsteps on the stone, they say.”

  “I’ve never heard them,” said Helga.

  “You have to be sensitive to hear them,” Thérèse told her.

  “I’m sensitive,” said Caroline.

  “So am I,” we all cried.

  “Well, perhaps you’ll hear them one day.”

  “Has anyone seen her?”

  “One of the girls said she did. She had long, flowing hair and there was a veil over her face.”

  “I’d like to see her,” said Anna B.

  “Perhaps you will,” replied Yvonne.

  “What do you say to a ghost?” asked Lucia.

  “You don’t say anything, of course,” retorted Thérèse. “You’re too frightened.”

  “Perhaps one of us will see her,” I said.

  “Who knows?” replied Thérèse.

  After that we talked of ghosts. No one had seen any, but they had of course heard a great deal about them.

  The clock in the tower struck two before the guests departed, and after having made sure that there were no crumbs to attract Mademoiselle Artois’s attention, we all went to bed.

  After that night there was a good deal of talk about ghosts in general and in particular about the lady who had been disfigured by smallpox and had thrown herself from the top of the tower. An account of the midnight feast and the revelations of Thérèse were whispered from dormitory to dormitory.

  We four used to talk about it continuously, after lights out. Anna B was quite interested, too. She said it showed how you had to be on your guard with men and it was a lesson: If they caught smallpox, never nurse them.

  Some girls said they had heard footsteps in the night…steps walking across the hall and out to the tower.

  I saw a little more of Anna B after that night; the feast had brought us closer, for those who could provide such an entertainment were not to be despised, even if they were only thirteen years old.

  If I met her she would pause and talk and I was able to ask how she was getting on. She said she quite liked it. She loved the dancing, and she got on very well with Lucia. She did not ask how I was getting on. But that was typical of her.

  One day I had a great surprise.

  It was about half past four. We had finished lessons for the day and this was our rest period, when we could go to our dormitories to read or chat together.

  I thought I would take a little walk in the gardens, which were very beautiful. This we were allowed to do, providing we did not go beyond the grounds.

  As I was coming out of the house, I caught sight of Anna B. She was hurrying toward the shrubbery and I went after her.

  She was some way ahead, and fearing that when she entered the shrubbery I should lose sight of her, I called her name.

  She looked around. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, and went on walking. I ran up to her.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Oh…nowhere.”

  “Really, Anna B. One doesn’t go nowhere.”

  “Just for a walk, that’s all.”

  And then I saw him. I could not believe it at first. It was so unexpected. For there, in the shrubbery, was Carl Zimmerman. My mind went back to the last time I had seen him, standing uncertainly outside the cubbyhole and then again inside it talking to us until Robert took him to the dining room.

  He stared from me to Anna B.

  “Why…” he began.

  “You we
re at our home…do you remember?” I said.

  He nodded.

  “It is so strange to see you here…at our school….”

  Anna B looked a little exasperated. She said, “I knew Carl was here. I saw him the other day and he explained to me.”

  “Explained…?”

  I could not stop myself from looking at him. He was very different from the previous occasion when he had been immaculately dressed for the evening. He was now wearing a loose jacket which had smudges of earth on it; and so did his trousers. Moreover, he was carrying a rake.

  “Carl works here…in the gardens,” said Anna B.

  He smiled at me. “Yes,” he said. “That is so.”

  “He doesn’t want anyone to know…exactly,” went on Anna B.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is a…er…joke,” Carl said. “A gamble…a bet I entered into. Ah, I mean a wager, I think. A friend of mine, he say I would not do manual labor for three months. He meant to take a job.”

  “What about the embassy? Don’t you belong to an embassy?”

  “Yes…yes. This is something I must do because I say I can. I say I will do it for two months. My friend say ‘You will not remain so long.’ I say I will, so I do.”

  “A wager,” I said. “I have heard of people doing things like that.”

  “Yes…that is what it is. I will win…I have made up my mind.”

  “Does Madame Rochère know that you are here on a…wager?”

  “Oh, no, no, no. She would send me off. She thinks I am a bona fide gardener’s boy.”

  “It’s a bit of a joke,” said Anna B. “And I think you are very brave to do it, Carl.”

  “Oh…but it does not require bravery…just work.” He looked ruefully at his hands. “It is work to which I am not accustomed.”

  “You are doing very well,” said Anna B. “I am sure they are very pleased with you. How marvelous it will be when you have won your wager! You will be rightly proud of yourself. How much is it, Carl?”

  “Twenty thousand francs.”

  Anna B pursed her lips and looked impressed.

  “Oh, but it is not the money,” he said.

  “The honor of Switzerland, eh?” said Anna B jocularly.

  “Something like that.”

  “Do you live here?” I asked.

  “Over there.” He waved his hand. “There are some little cottages…more like huts really. But I manage…for my wager. The gardeners all live there together with others employed here. It is adequate.”

  “I see.”

  “Well…I should not be speaking to young ladies from the school, of course.”

  “We can’t be seen here among all these trees,” said Anna B. “At least, I hope not.”

  We walked through the shrubbery and Carl pointed out his living quarters in the distance.

  “There you see my dwelling,” he said. “And now I take my leave.”

  With that he bowed and left us.

  Anna B looked a little cross, and I gathered it was with me. I was about to mention this when she said, “I wouldn’t say anything about meeting Carl if I were you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s a bit secret, isn’t it? I don’t know what old Rochère’s reaction would be—the old snob. She wouldn’t want people coming to work here to settle wagers, would she? She would expect a properly trained gardener.”

  “Well, he is only here for a little while.”

  “She does not know that. So don’t say anything, will you?”

  “You didn’t say you’d seen him.”

  “It was only the other day I did. Then I came upon him accidentally…like now.”

  “I suppose we might never have seen him if you hadn’t come across him by chance.”

  “No, we wouldn’t.”

  “Do you think he was a bit put out because we have discovered him?”

  “Perhaps. He wouldn’t want it generally known about the wager, would he?”

  “He told you.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mention it to Caroline or any of them. It would be all over the school if you did.”

  “I won’t.”

  “What are you supposed to be doing now?”

  “Just taking a little walk before I go back. It’s conversazione at six. I don’t know what we are going to talk about.”

  “Let’s wait and see, eh?”

  She walked with me a little, and after that we went in.

  It was a few days after my encounter with Carl and I had ceased to marvel at the coincidence of his choosing our school in which to work out his wager.

  I said to Anna B, “He seems to be one of those people who turns up in odd places.”

  She smiled to herself.

  “Well,” I went on, “he was there at our house…outside the cubbyhole…and then to find him here. It’s odd.”

  “He’s a diplomat, of course.”

  “He gets long holidays at that, I suppose. How strange for a diplomat suddenly to become a gardener!”

  “He explained. I suppose he has an exciting time.”

  She was smiling. She looked different and had for some time. I thought it was because she was enjoying school. She and Lucia were always whispering together; there was a touch of superiority about them both, as though they knew something that the rest of us didn’t.

  That night, when I had been fast asleep, I was abruptly awakened by someone calling. “Lucinda…Lucinda!” It was insistent, dragging me out of a pleasant dream.

  Caroline was standing by my bed. She was wearing her dressing gown.

  “Wake up,” she said. “I can hear something. Listen.”

  I sat up in bed, trying to shake off my drowsiness.

  “What…?” I mumbled.

  “Footsteps,” whispered Caroline. “I heard them go along the corridor and down to the hall.”

  “The ghost!” I cried.

  “Get up. I’m going to look. Come with me.”

  “It’s late…”

  “Listen.”

  I did, and then I heard it, too. It was definitely the sound of footsteps and they were going down the staircase in the direction of the hall. I felt my heart begin to beat faster. Now I was as curious as Caroline.

  Yvonne was awakened. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s the ghost. We’ve both heard it,” whispered Caroline.

  “Where?”

  Caroline jerked her head toward the door. “In the corridor and now on the stairs….Listen.”

  We stood very still.

  Helga was now awake. We explained quickly.

  “We’re going to look,” said Caroline.

  Helga hastily got out of bed and put on her dressing gown while Caroline quietly opened the door, and we went out into the corridor.

  We descended the staircase and were in the hall. We gasped, for ahead of us, standing by one of the windows, was…the ghost.

  It was the slim figure of a young woman, her hair loose about her shoulders; she had her back to us so we could not see whether she wore a veil over her scarred face, but in those first moments we were sure she did.

  And then it dawned on us that she was not wearing the robes of an earlier century, but she was in a dressing gown very like those we were wearing. As we stood there the figure turned, and, instead of the pockmarked beauty, we saw that our ghost was Marie Christine du Bray.

  “Marie Christine!” whispered Caroline.

  She laid a hand on my arm, and as she did so, Marie Christine walked slowly toward us, her hands slightly outstretched, as though she were feeling her way. She gave no sign that she saw us.

  “She’s walking in her sleep,” Caroline whispered.

  “What do we do?” asked Yvonne.

  “Go and get Mademoiselle Artois,” said Caroline.

  “What?” cried Helga.

  “Hush. We mustn’t wake her. We don’t know what to do. We ought to get her back to bed.”

  Caroline herself took on th
e task and hurried upstairs to the room where Mademoiselle Artois slept. It was at the end of the dormitory, where she had two rooms, a bedroom and a study.

  Marie Christine by this time had walked down to the end of the hall and sat in an armchair. Caroline had told us to stay quietly and watch her, in case she went somewhere else.

  It was not long before Mademoiselle appeared, looking unlike her daytime self, with two rather thin plaits hanging down her back and a look of consternation on her face.

  By this time several other girls had arrived on the scene, Anna B with Lucia among them.

  Mademoiselle Artois immediately took charge.

  “You girls go back at once to your dormitories. Marie Christine has walked in her sleep. Be very quiet. She must not be disturbed.”

  The first shock of seeing Mademoiselle in dishabille had passed and the sound of her authoritative voice was as effective by night as it was by day. She went to Marie Christine and took her arm gently. “It’s all right,” she said soothingly. “We shall go to your room. You will be comfortable there.”

  Marie Christine stood up and allowed herself to be led. The girls silently watched as Marie Christine ascended the stairs. Mademoiselle was too taken up with Marie Christine to have noticed that we were still there.

  We all started to whisper.

  “I thought it was the ghost.”

  “So did I.”

  “Marie Christine looked very strange.”

  “So did Mademoiselle.”

  Giggles followed.

  “Do you think Marie Christine was looking for the ghost?”

  “All that talk about it may have preyed on her mind.”

  Mademoiselle appeared suddenly.

  “Why are you not in your beds? Go to them immediately. All is well. Marie Christine has merely been walking in her sleep. It is not unusual for people to do this. Now, back to bed…all of you.”

  The next day everyone was talking about the previous night’s adventure. In the morning Dr. Crozier was called in to see Marie Christine. We were told that she was resting for the day.

  At conversazione when we were all assembled, Madame Rochère herself addressed us.

  “You girls will be aware that there was a little disturbance in the night. I want to talk to you all very seriously. Marie Christine has suffered a great shock recently, and it has naturally unsettled her. Dr. Crozier has seen her. There is nothing wrong, I am happy to say…except that she is a little disturbed…as we all should be in her position. This has made her uneasy at night when she should be resting, and it has resulted in this sleepwalking. She may not do it again, but if she does and you girls hear her, I want you to do nothing. Do not speak to her or disturb her in any way. Dr. Crozier informs me that it is best to leave her. She will go back to her bed when she is ready and will be unaware of what has happened. I am assured that this is the best way to deal with the matter. She is resting now and will do so during the day. I want no more gathering together and talking, whispering, disturbing everyone, as there was last night.