Time for Silence

by Philippa Carr

  “Yes,” said my mother. “People’s lives and even honeymoons.”

  “Still the same old Lucie. But in spite of everything, this is fun. Wait till you see Annabelinda’s wedding dress.”

  “I am sure it’s magnificent,” said my mother.

  Marcus’s parents arrived. His father was affable and obviously quite fascinated by Aunt Belinda, who had made a great effort to attract him. His mother was undoubtedly formidable. She was gracious rather than friendly; and I guessed at once that it was she who was so insistent in reminding them of their ancient lineage and noblesse oblige.

  Fleetingly I wondered what she would have said if she had known of Annabelinda’s lapse from virtue. I had a feeling that she would have done everything in her power to prevent the marriage—and that power would have been great.

  I sat in church next to Robert. I watched Annabelinda come up the aisle on Sir Robert’s arm. They looked very well together; he tall and very pleasant-looking, because of that expression of good will toward the world, of which I had always been aware, chiefly because his son had inherited it. As for Annabelinda, she was startlingly beautiful in a dress of white satin and lace, and there was a wreath of orange blossoms in her hair.

  The marriage ceremony began, and I saw Marcus put the ring on her finger. I listened to them, taking their vows. And I could not stop myself from imagining that I was there in her place. I had had my dreams and an occasion like this brought home to me how ridiculous I had been.

  “It is experience,” my mother would have said. “You learn something from it.”

  What I had learned was that I must never deceive myself again.

  The strains of the Wedding March flowed out and there they were—surely one of the most handsome couples who had ever been married in this church—coming down the aisle and looking wonderfully happy.

  Then we went back to the Denver home for the reception.

  Aunt Belinda was greeting everyone, saying what a beautiful service it had been, what a handsome bridegroom, what a beautiful bride. They were cutting the cake…Annabelinda wielding the knife and Marcus helping her, then drinking the champagne from the Denver cellars. Speeches followed.

  Aunt Celeste was standing beside me.

  “Aren’t they charming?” she said. “Just what a bride and groom should be. I wish my brother were here to see them.”

  “I wonder what Monsieur Jean Pascal is doing now?” I said.

  She shook her head.

  “You haven’t heard anything?” I asked.

  She shook her head again. “It could not be easy to get news. I don’t know where the enemy is in his area. One doesn’t hear anything.”

  “They wouldn’t have gone to Valenciennes, I suppose. That would be very close to the fighting.”

  “My brother himself was hardly ever there. The Princesse went now and then. I daresay they are at the château. I wish I could get some news.”

  “It’s nearly three years since all this started. I can’t believe it.”

  Aunt Celeste nodded. “I am so relieved that you and Annabelinda were able to get home.”

  “Yes, thanks to Marcus.”

  “And how romantic this has turned out. It has made me think a lot about my brother. It would have been wonderful if he had been able to be here today.”

  Robert came up.

  “You look sad,” he said. “Why is it that there is always an element of sadness about weddings?”

  “They remind people of so much,” I said.

  “Yes, I suppose so. Let me fill your glasses.”

  He signed to the waiters while Aunt Celeste stared ahead, thinking of her brother who was somewhere in France.

  The speeches were over, the bride and groom had left for Torquay. Robert said to me, “It’s hot in here. Too many people. Let’s slip outside.”

  I was glad to and we went into the garden.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” I said.

  “You like it, don’t you?”

  “I always have. I used to love coming here when I was little. You were always nice to me, Robert. Although I was quite a bit younger than you, you never reminded me of it, like Annabelinda, who did all the time.”

  “Oh, no one takes any notice of Annabelinda.”

  “I did. She’s two years older than I and never let me forget it.”

  “Well, you are old enough now not to be concerned about those two years.” He stood still, looking about him. “There is something special about one’s own home,” he said. “Somehow it seems as though it is a part of you.”

  “I know.”

  “The paddock over there. I used to ride round and round on my pony, feeling very adventurous. I’ll never forget the first day I was let off the leading rein. There’s the old oak tree. I climbed that once. I’d done something I shouldn’t have and I thought I’d hide myself so that they couldn’t find me.”

  “I can’t think you ever did anything very bad.”

  “Oh, please,” he said. “You make me sound impossible. I was always in trouble with Nanny Aldridge, I can tell you.”

  “Well, very minor peccadilloes, I am sure.”

  “You’re laughing at me.”

  “Well, you are, and always have been, good. One could rely on you…unlike Annabelinda.”

  “You mean dull.”

  “Why do people think goodness is synonymous with dullness?”

  “Because it is often a kind way of saying one is unimaginative.”

  “And winning medals on the battlefield?”

  “That was chance. A lot of people deserved them and didn’t get noticed.”

  “I won’t listen to such talk. You were never dull, and I always loved it when you arrived.”

  “Lucinda, will you marry me?”

  I was silent and he went on. “It is what I have always wanted. I know that both our families would be delighted.”

  I could still find nothing to say. I could not plead surprise, for there had always been this very special friendship between us, but on Annabelinda’s wedding day, when I was admitting to myself that I had had very tender feelings toward her bridegroom, was not the time. My emotions were in too much of a turmoil.

  I heard myself stammer, “Robert…it’s too soon. I hadn’t thought…”

  “I understand,” he said. “You want to think about it. Marriage is a serious undertaking.”

  Still I was silent. To marry Robert! Everything would be pleasant, comforting. I should live here in this beautiful place. My mother would be delighted. She loved Robert, as so many people did. Annabelinda would be my sister-in-law. It was strange that that should be one of the first thoughts that occurred to me.

  Robert was saying, “I know you like me, Lucinda. I mean you don’t really find me dull.”

  “Do get that foolish notion out of your head. You are not dull and I am very, very fond of you.”

  “But…” he said sadly.

  “It’s just too soon.”

  A smile crossed his face. “I didn’t lead up to it, did I? I just blundered in. Trust me.”

  “No, Robert. It’s not that at all. It is just that I don’t feel ready.”

  “Let’s leave it. Forget I said anything. We’ll talk about it some other time.”

  “Yes, do let’s. You know how happy I always am with you. I was so pleased when you came to Marchlands. But just now…”

  “You don’t have to explain. I am going to ask you again.”

  I turned to him and put my arms around him and for a few seconds he held me against him.

  “Yes, Robert,” I said. “Just a little time, please.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll ask you again. There’s one thing I haven’t told you.”

  “What is that?”

  “I have to go before a medical board in three weeks’ time.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked in alarm.

  “They’ll assess how fit I am.”

  “They couldn’t possibly send you out there again
!”

  “We’ll have to see.”

  Some of the guests were coming out into the garden and Aunt Celeste joined us.

  I felt very unsettled and disturbed. I could not bear the thought of Robert’s leaving England.

  I was relieved when Robert’s visit to the medical board had to be postponed. There was a slight complication with his leg. It needed more rest, Dr. Egerton decided, and therefore the medical board would have to wait for a few weeks.

  Edward was now four years old. I was not sure of the actual date of his birth, but my mother had suggested we make it the fourth of August. That was the date when Britain had declared war on Germany.

  “Let us have something pleasant to remember it by, as well as all the horror,” said my mother.

  Edward was now quite a person. He was very curious about everything, full of energy, quite fluent and very amusing. We all thought he was an exceptionally bright child, and it was a little more than prejudice, I do believe, that made us feel this.

  He was interested in birthdays because they meant parties. He had been to one or two with other children in the neighborhood and now it was his turn.

  We invited about ten local children. There was a cake with four candles, and Andrée and I, with help from my mother when she could spare the time, planned some games that would be suitable for the children.

  Edward was devoted to Andrée, but I think he had a rather special feeling for me. I had always tried to be with him as much as possible. In spite of the fact that I myself had had an excellent nanny, my mother had always been closer to me than anyone else. I wanted Edward to feel the same about me. I wanted to make up for his mother’s callous desertion and the loss of his loving foster-mother. I did not want him to be deprived of anything in life.

  I used to read a story to him every night before he went to sleep, and I knew how much he looked forward to that.

  Andrée used to say, “He loves me as his nanny, but you as his mother.”

  “Poor child,” I said. “How sad it all was for him.”

  “Don’t expect me to feel pity for him!” she retorted. “I think he is one of the luckiest of children. Here he is, with every luxury…surrounded by love. He’s got your mother, you, me…and the servants all dote on him and would spoil him if I didn’t look out.”

  “It’s because he is adorable.”

  I could see she was thinking of her own childhood, which had been so different. Poor Andrée! I was so glad that she seemed happier with us.

  There were ten children in all at the party. But the nursery was a big room. It would be the schoolroom later, as it had been such a short time ago when I had studied with Miss Carruthers. Books were stacked in the cupboard; the big table with the ink stains on it was covered by a white cloth. On it were jellies, tarts and scones, and in the place of honor, the birthday cake.

  There was great fun with Edward’s trying to blow out the candles, and then the children crowded around and consumed the treats with relish. After the food was cleared away, we played games.

  There was a good deal of laughing and shouting. “Pass the parcel” was a great favorite, with everyone shrieking with delight when the music stopped and the one who was holding the parcel took off another wrapper; there were more expressions of delight when the music started again and the parcel went on its way, to fall as a prize into the hands of the child who held it when the music finally stopped and a paint box was revealed.

  They scrambled their way through “musical chairs” and “statues.” Andrée was a very good organizer and was able to control the children with the right amount of benevolent authority that is essential on such occasions.

  As it was a fine day, we went into the garden and there they could run about as much as they wished. When it was time for the guests to go, Edward, standing beside me, received their thanks with dignity. Andrée had gone up to the nursery, and Edward and I were alone.

  I smiled down at him. “It was a good party, wasn’t it?” I said.

  “It was a good party.” He had a habit of repeating such statements as if he were in agreement with them.

  “So now,” I went on, “you are well and truly four years old.”

  “Next time I’ll be five.”

  “Yes, five years old.”

  “Then six, seven and eight.”

  “You’re making the years go too quickly.”

  “When I’m ten, I’ll go riding without James.”

  “Yes, I daresay. Where do you like to ride best?”

  “I like the forest best.”

  “Do you ride there with Andrée?”

  He nodded. “James, too. Sometimes just Andrée.”

  “And you like that?”

  He nodded again, “I like the forest.”

  “Why?”

  “Trees,” he said. “And people.”

  “People?”

  “The man.”

  “What man?”

  “Andrée’s man.”

  “Andrée meets a man, does she?”

  He nodded.

  “What? Every time?”

  “A lot of times. They talk. They walk the horses. Andrée keeps looking at me. She says, ‘Stay there, Edward.’ ”

  “And do you stay there?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you know the man? Is he someone from the hospital?”

  He shook his head vigorously.

  “So, he’s a stranger?”

  “He’s a stranger.” He mouthed the word and repeated it as he often did when he heard a word for the first time.

  “The forest’s nice,” he said. “When I’m five I won’t have a leading rein. I’ll ride fast. I’ll gallop….”

  “I am sure you will.”

  I was thinking about Andrée’s meeting with a stranger. A man. Well, she was young; she was quite good-looking. It hadn’t occurred to me before that she might have an admirer.

  We were halfway through September, and Robert was still with us. Dr. Egerton still was not entirely satisfied and thought that a little more rest was needed. He said he wanted to keep his eye on this patient for a little longer.

  We were all relieved. Often I would feel Robert’s wistful eyes on me and I wanted then to do anything to comfort him. I was fully aware of how miserable I should be if he went away and what terrible anxiety I should suffer wondering what was happening to him. The third Battle of Ypres had begun and there was particularly bitter fighting at this time. The casualties were great. I used to shudder when bad cases were brought to us, and I always thought, That might have been Robert.

  Sybil Egerton talked to me about him. We had grown accustomed to calling her Sybil now. “Mrs. Egerton” was too formal and she was no longer “Miss Carruthers.” She was at the hospital every day, arriving with her husband and staying until early evening. She was very efficient, practical, a little brisk and quite unsentimental. This suited some of those who were severely wounded, for she made them feel that they were not so badly off as they had imagined and that there were others far worse. She used to read to those whose eyesight was damaged, and it made my mother and me smile to see her in one of the little rooms with those who could get there, reading Dickens to them. It was like a small class and she was very much the schoolmistress, but it happened to be just the treatment they needed. Marrying the doctor had added to her stature.

  She announced to me in her straightforward manner, “Robert Denver is in love with you.”

  I did not answer and she went on. “He is a good man and you could not find anyone more suited to you.”

  “I’ve known him all my life,” I said.

  “So much the better. He is the antithesis of his sister.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sure he would make you happy. Marriage is the ideal state…providing it is the right marriage.”

  Having found satisfaction herself in this state, she felt herself qualified to help others to do likewise.

  She was smiling wisely at me, indicating that
if I needed any advice on the matter, I should come to her.

  My mother also talked to me of Robert.

  “It seems odd to want to hold back someone’s recovery, but I do hope Robert stays with us a little longer. Surely this miserable war must come to an end soon. He does care for you, you know.”

  “Sybil was talking about him.”

  “Oh, yes, she was telling me how pleased she would be to see you settled. I think you are very fond of Robert.”

  “Yes, I am. He…he has asked me.”

  “You haven’t said no.”

  “I am not sure….”

  “I see. He’s a good man, Lucinda. One of the best. He’s like his father. Who but Sir Robert would have put up with Belinda all these years?”

  “I can’t be hurried into anything so serious.”

  “You’re not still thinking of…?”

  It was always thus between us. We knew each other’s minds so well that we followed the working of them without having to put it into words.

  “My dear Lucinda,” she said. “It’s all for the best that it ended like this. I don’t think you would have been happy with him. He is very attractive and has all the social graces…but there is something superficial about him…something too worldly. You would have been disappointed. You’re not like that at all. You’re honest and sincere. He was brought up in a different atmosphere from the one you were. There would have been irritations in time.”

  “Whereas I’ve known Robert all my life.”

  “That’s no drawback.”

  “There are no surprises,” I said. “It’s all so predictable.”

  “Marcus came to you in a dramatic way. It was all rather romantic…not so much while you were living it perhaps, but when you look back. That’s what so often happens in life. The things we anticipate with such excitement and look back on and find so amusing are often quite uncomfortable while we are actually living them. As I say, he appeared on the scene; he took charge of everything; he took you out of danger. Of course he seems romantic. At one time I thought you and he…I tried to reconcile myself, but I didn’t really like it because I felt it wouldn’t work. He’s charming, but he’s suave. I know people like him. He goes out of his way to please, but somehow I don’t think his feelings go deep…if you know what I mean. He seemed to be very interested in you until Annabelinda appeared again. I know she made a dead set at him, but she couldn’t have forced him to ask her to marry him, could she? He had to want to…and he asked her so soon. Sometimes, my dearest Lucinda, something happens in life which hurts…but when it’s past you can look back on it and see that it is all for the best.”