Time for Silence

by Philippa Carr

  “Well, he led the children into the mountainside, didn’t he?” I said.

  “Ladies,” said Marcus. “I am no shepherd and no piper…just an ordinary fellow who was overjoyed to be of service to you. What I did was something anyone could have done.”

  “Well, I think you were very resourceful in a difficult situation,” declared Miss Carruthers. “It was an experience I shall never forget and will always be grateful for.”

  My mother joined us with Aunt Hester and the conversation became general.

  I was sure that everyone thought it was a successful evening, and after it was over Marcus Merrivale remained in my thoughts. I was discovering that I liked him very much. I noticed that even the servants were impressed by the charm he extended to them. He had stepped into our lives as a hero. He was the kind of man who seemed to care about other people’s feelings, and he had a smiling consideration for everyone; and I was beginning to think that there was something special in his attitude toward me.

  The next day Uncle Gerald called to say good-bye.

  The news was bad. The Germans were on the outskirts of Mons and a great battle was in progress.

  “We’ve got to hold them,” said Uncle Gerald. “We’re stepping up the movements of men and ammunition. The regiment’s leaving tomorrow at dawn.”

  “Major Merrivale will be with you, I suppose,” said my mother.

  “Oh, yes. Nice fellow, isn’t he?”

  “Most attractive, and of course, we are especially grateful to him. And to you, naturally.”

  “You’ve made that plain. I knew he could be trusted to do the job. Rather dashing, don’t you think? Popular with the ladies.”

  “That does not surprise me,” replied my mother.

  “Good family, too. Branch of the Luckleys. The duke would be a second cousin, I believe. Army tradition in the family. Marcus will go far. He’s got the flair and the background.”

  “He seemed to get on well with Lucinda,” said my mother. “I suppose when something like that happens, it brings people close together. I hope we shall see more of him.”

  “He’ll have his hands full while this goes on. And so will most of us.”

  “It’s got to be over sometime.”

  “The sooner the better. But I think it may be later than sooner. There’s a lot of determination on both sides. I have a notion it might be rather a long struggle.”

  “People seem to think it will be over by Christmas.”

  “That’s what the press tells them, and they repeat it like parrots. Well, I suppose it is a good thing, to look on the bright side.”

  “Bring that nice major to see us when you can,” said my mother. “You can trust me to do just that,” replied Uncle Gerald.

  Annabelinda arrived in London with her mother.

  “We have some shopping to do,” said Aunt Belinda. “I said to Robert, we can’t allow this dreadful war to stop everything. We’ve got to get on with our lives, haven’t we?”

  “So you have left Robert behind?”

  “There’s so much to do, he said. What with young Robert in the army and some of the people on the estate joining up…”

  “I suppose it makes things difficult. However, you are here.”

  “How’s that nice major? Robert knows the family.”

  “Gerald said he was connected with the Luckleys.”

  “I’m impressed,” said Aunt Belinda. “Annabelinda told me what a charmer he is. I hear he is coming to dinner. I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

  “I’m afraid not. He has been to dinner. We had to put it forward…because he and Gerald were going overseas earlier than they thought.”

  Annabelinda’s face darkened. “Oh,” she murmured. “But Lucinda told me there was to be a dinner party. I’ve got a special dress.”

  “I’m sorry,” said my mother. “But never mind. It couldn’t be helped. They had to leave earlier than they thought at first. Things are rather bad over there.”

  I could see how bitterly disappointed Annabelinda was. The thought crossed my mind that she had persuaded her mother to come because of this dinner party. I was certain of this that evening.

  She burst into my bedroom, her face distorted with anger.

  “You sly, deceitful creature,” she said. “You did it on purpose. I understand why.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You…and Marcus. You knew he wasn’t coming on the twenty-third but earlier, and you didn’t let me know.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I should have been there.”

  “You weren’t invited.”

  “Of course I wasn’t. You saw to that.”

  “I didn’t think about it. If you had been here, of course you would have been. But you weren’t. We don’t invite you every time we have a dinner party. You’re too far away anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the change of dates?”

  “It didn’t occur to me that I should.”

  “You didn’t want me there, did you?”

  “You would have been there if you had been in London.”

  “You told me that the party was to be on the twenty-third when you knew it was the nineteenth.”

  “When I mentioned in my letter that the party was going to be on the twenty-third I thought it was.”

  “And when the date was changed you deliberately held that back.”

  “I did not hold it back deliberately. The date was changed after I had written to you and I did not think it necessary to tell you of the alteration.”

  “You were afraid I would come up. You didn’t want me to. You were afraid that if I were there he wouldn’t take any notice of you.”

  “I thought no such thing.”

  “Oh, yes you did. You were jealous. It’s always the same. You were trying to make him notice you, and you were angry because he showed clearly that he liked me better. You like him, don’t you? You try to attract him. Well, let me tell you, he is more interested in me than in you…and that’s why you didn’t want me here.”

  “You’re talking the most arrant nonsense. I thought nothing of the sort. You think everybody is in love with you. Just because…”

  “Because what?”

  “Because of Carl Zimmerman.”

  Her face darkened. I thought she was going to hit me.

  “Don’t you ever mention him again!”

  “Well, please don’t talk nonsense to me.”

  She looked stricken suddenly. I had hated her a few minutes before. Now I felt that old affection stealing over me.

  She said quietly, “That was mean of you, Lucinda.”

  “I didn’t think to remind you of the dinner,” I said. “And it never occurred to me to attract his attention. If you had been here you would have come to the party. It wasn’t very grand.”

  “You’re so young,” she said. “And it really seemed as though you were trying to keep me out. He’s a man of experience. He wouldn’t be interested in a schoolgirl. I’d hate to see you make a fool of yourself, Lucinda.”

  “I was not the one to make a fool of myself. I’m not likely to over a man.”

  “You throw yourself at him. You must let him do the chasing. The fact is, he is quite interested in me. I know it. One does know these things. I know how you feel about him. He really is rather fascinating, but you know absolutely nothing. He thinks of you as a child. He told me so. You mustn’t start thinking…”

  “Thinking what?”

  “That he likes you particularly. You’ll only get hurt.”

  “As you did?” I could not help retorting. “Are you the one to give advice, Annabelinda?”

  “Yes. If one is experienced, one is.”

  “You are certainly experienced.”

  “You should have let me know he was coming. However, it’s done and he is not over there…fighting, I suppose. I daresay he was terribly disappointed not to see me. Did he ask after me?”

  �
��You were mentioned.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He just asked how you were.”

  She nodded slowly. She said, “All I want to do is look after you, to stop you from getting hurt.”

  “I don’t need looking after, and remember, you were the one who got hurt.”

  “You do need looking after. Don’t get romantic thoughts about Marcus Merrivale. I know he is charming to everybody, but he is a man of the world. He’s got a reputation with women. Don’t go imagining him as the romantic lover, because you simply don’t know anything about such things.”

  She left me soon after that, and I lay thinking about what she had said.

  The weeks passed slowly. We settled down to a routine. My father was often away on what my mother called “House business,” by which she meant the House of Commons. One did not ask questions about such business.

  With her usual efficiency, Miss Carruthers had begun her duties and we had lessons every day. Andrée had taken charge of Edward, and my mother said that would suffice for the moment and we need not think about a nanny for a while. Andrée was very capable and too many changes would not be good for the child.

  My mother herself was very busy with all sorts of charities to aid what was called “the war effort”—mainly the Red Cross, in which she took a special interest. We were all called in to help from time to time.

  It was one dark November day when Mrs. Cherry came to my room to tell me a gentleman had called to see me. He was waiting in the drawing room. I immediately thought of Marcus Merrivale. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My cheeks were pink, my eyes shining. I was excited.

  I hurried down to the drawing room in a mood of pleasurable anticipation. I opened the door and there was Robert.

  Delight swept over me. I had forgotten I was expecting Marcus.

  “Robert!” I cried.

  He was grinning at me rather sheepishly. He looked different in khaki. It was not really becoming. It would be later when he gained his commission and a smart uniform with it—but he was not yet in that position. He looked very fit and well. His skin was slightly tanned and he had lost just a little of that gangling look which had been so essentially Robert.

  I rushed to him and we hugged each other.

  “It is wonderful to see you,” I cried. “I have been wondering when I should.”

  “I feel the same,” he replied. “It seems ages. I’ve heard all about your journey home. That must have been quite an adventure.”

  “Oh, it was.”

  “It was lucky that your uncle was able to arrange to have you brought out.”

  “Otherwise we should have had to go with the refugees.”

  “It was a Major Merrivale, I heard, who brought you home.”

  “Yes. He was so good.”

  “He would be. And his position helped, of course. I was dreadfully worried when I thought of you in that school. Belgium, of all places!”

  “I often wonder what is happening there now. Madame Rochère, who owned the school, is a very aristocratic, haughty lady. I try to think of what might be happening to her.”

  “It’s very unpleasant to be in an occupied country…something I hope we shall never have to face.”

  “Of course we shall not have to! That would be quite unthinkable. There is always the Channel. It won’t be the same with the French.”

  “That’s so. I often think about my grandfather…so does my mother. We don’t hear what’s happening in Bordeaux.”

  “I think that Monsieur Bourdon will know how to look after himself.”

  “So do I, but we should like to hear.”

  “Robert, tell me about yourself.”

  “Well…it’s a hard life at first, but I’m getting used to it. We do a lot of riding, which I enjoy, as you can guess, and one gets used to the long day and the shouting and the orders that have to be obeyed instantly. One doesn’t dislike it. There’s some wonderful comradeship, and it’s a good feeling when you drop into bed absolutely worn out, to sleep and sleep until reveille.”

  “Are you longing to be home, Robert?”

  “For a lot of reasons, yes. But we’ve got to fight this war and win it. If we all stayed at home, we’d never do that.”

  “How long leave have you got?”

  “Three days more. I’ve had two at home and the rest I’m spending in London.”

  “Oh…good.”

  “My sister and mother came up with me. They’re here now. My father had to stay behind. There’s so much work to do.”

  “Does he mind your coming here?”

  “You know how he is. He always sees the point and wants to do what the family wants. And of course, my mother and Annabelinda said we should spend the time in London to see you and your family.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “It’s so long since I’ve seen you. It was last Christmas. Just think of that. We’ve never been away from each other so long before.”

  “I don’t believe we have. How are you going to spend your leave now that you’re here?”

  “With you…and…”

  “With Annabelinda, your mother and the rest of us.”

  “I daresay they’ll want to be off into town.”

  “What a lovely prospect!”

  He caught my hand and looked into my face. “Do you really mean that, Lucinda?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You’ve changed a little.”

  “In what way?”

  “Grown up.”

  “We’re doing that all the time.”

  “By more than a year, I mean. I suppose it’s the war and all you must have seen on that awful journey. I heard about the baby.”

  “Oh, yes. You must see Edward.”

  “It must have been a terrible experience, seeing that woman dying….And it was wonderful of you to care about the baby.”

  “I knew you’d understand.”

  “There was nothing else you could have done. I hear he’s a fine little fellow.”

  “And did you hear about Andrée Latour?”

  “Yes, Annabelinda told me. She said Major Merrivale was wonderful.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “I wish I’d been the one, Lucinda.”

  “Well, you were in training, weren’t you, and I suppose Uncle Gerald thought he would do it very well…which he did.”

  “It must have been extraordinary…the whole thing…and you just out of school.”

  “I’m home now and things seem more or less normal. Miss Carruthers, one of the mistresses from the school, came with us. She’s acting as governess to me now.”

  “Well, you’re only fifteen, of course.”

  He sighed, and I said, “You seem to find that regrettable.”

  “Well,” he admitted, “I wish you were a little older. Seventeen, say.”

  “Seventeen? Is that such a ripe old age?”

  “It’s an age when you can start thinking about the future.”

  “I suppose one can start thinking about the future at any time.”

  “I mean making plans…reasonable plans.”

  I looked puzzled and he went on. “Never mind. We’ll talk about all that later. What would you like to do? Go to a theater? A pity we can’t go riding. We wouldn’t want to go in the Row. I’d like to gallop over fields.”

  “We could do a little walking in the park. Just as we used to.”

  “That would be fun. Could we get away from everyone?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I think that as this is your leave, you should choose.”

  Annabelinda had come into the room. She kissed me fondly.

  “I thought I’d let my big brother give you a surprise before letting you know we were here. What do you think of him?”

  “I think he looks very well, and it is wonderful to see him.”

  “I knew you’d think that. Lucinda’s a great admirer of yours, Robert.” />
  “The admiration is mutual.”

  Annabelinda laughed. She was in good spirits.

  Her mother came in. She looked very elegant; she was remarkably like her daughter. She swept me into her embrace.

  “Dear Lucinda! How wonderful to see you!”

  My mother was with her.

  “Isn’t it a lovely surprise to see Robert?” she said.

  I agreed that it was.

  “I’m so glad you came here,” she added to Robert.

  “Oh, I wanted to see you all.”

  “And particularly his dear Lucinda,” added Annabelinda.

  “Robert was just saying what he would like to do,” I said. “I told him he must make the decisions as it is his leave.”

  “And only three days of it,” added my mother.

  “Never mind,” said Robert. “I’ll make the most of it.”

  We went into luncheon.

  Annabelinda asked after Miss Carruthers and Andrée Latour.

  “Miss Carruthers is a stickler for conventions,” explained my mother. “She dines with us on certain occasions, but I fancy she does so with a certain reluctance. She is very much aware of her place—and I really think prefers to eat alone. As for Andrée, she is in the nursery with Edward during the day, but very often dines with us.”

  “And is it all working out well with this baby?” asked Aunt Belinda.

  “Wonderfully. We wouldn’t be without him.”

  “How cozy!” said Aunt Belinda. “But then you were always a cozy person, Lucie.”

  “I’m not sure whether that is a compliment or not,” laughed my mother.

  “Oh, it’s a compliment, Lucie dear. By the way, did you see any more of that nice Major Merrivale?”

  Annabelinda was alert…watching me.

  “No,” replied my mother. “Soldiers are kept very busy at a time like this.”

  “What a pity. We missed him that time he came to dinner. I thought he was such a charming man.”

  “Very charming,” said my mother.

  “And of such a good family. This dreadful war…it just spoils everything.”

  “It goes on and on,” said my mother. “And now we’ve declared war on Turkey. So…more trouble in that quarter. And wasn’t the sinking of the Good Hope and the Monmouth terrible?”

  “I refuse to talk of these horrible things,” said Aunt Belinda. “I have had enough of it and so must you, Lucie. I expect Joel brings home all the horrible news, doesn’t he?”