Виктория Холт - On the Night of the Seventh Moon

“It’s just that I hadn’`t thought of marriage,” I finished lamely.

“I should have led up to this, I suppose,” he said ruefully.

“I know my parents expected. They are so fond of you and so am I.”

I said: “It would be very suitable of course, but...

“Oh, Helena,” he said, ‘get used to the idea. Think about it. “

“There is Aunt Caroline,” I said.

“I couldn’'t leave her. She needs someone to look after her all the time.”

“We could bring her to the vicarage. My mother would help to look after her.”

“I couldn’'t impose Aunt Caroline on you. She would disrupt the household.”

I was talking round the matter, anything but to tell the truth. I was really agitated because talking of marriage had brought back So vividly that room in the hunting lodge, the priest with the book and the ring, and Maximilian standing beside me impatiently waiting for the time when we would be alone.

I forced myself to think of Anthony. He would be kind to me; we could have a pleasant life together. I could be of use to him in his work; perhaps we should have children. I felt the pain surging within me as I thought of that little face framed in the white bonnet. How could I possibly marry without telling what had happened to me now six years ago.

I said quickly: “I should have to have time to think.

He took my hand and pressed it firmly.

“But of course,” he said.

We were thoughtful as we went back to the house. I could not tear my mind away from the past. I kept seeing Maximilian with the eager passion in his eyes. I had had no doubts then; I would have made no excuses; I would have swept them all away. And my child . I could not bear it. I must control my feelings.

When we arrived back at the house I noticed at once the expectancy in Mrs. Greville’s face. She was disappointed.

Anthony had now moved into the new vicarage, a charming Queen Anne residence with spacious, gracious lawns at both front and back. There was a south wall at the back-older than the house. It had been there since Tudor days. Peaches could be grown on it. There were apple and pear trees in the garden and a sundial inscribed with an old adage: “I count only the sunny hours. They,” said Anthony, were the only ones which should be counted. ” His parents had moved in with him.

To make sure of his comforts,” Mrs. Greville explained to me.

“Of course when Anthony marries we’ll be ready to take a back seat.”

She spoke significantly. I knew she thought that although I was hesitant I should eventually marry Anthony. After all, what life was there for me otherwise? It wasn’`t right, said Mrs. Greville, for young women to be cooped up looking after old ones. She implied that Aunt Caroline would be no less miserable installed in a room in the vicarage where she would help to look after her.

They were so good, so kind, and I loved them all dearly. Why did I hesitate? The answer was because I was clinging to a dream.

Either in reality or my dreams I had known the perfect union and I hungered for it. I knew that Anthony was a good man; it seemed very likely that Maximilian was not quite that; but one does not always love people for their virtues.

One day when we were in the walled garden, and I was alone with Anthony I blurted out: “Anthony, I want to be absolutely truthful with you. I’ve had a child.”

He was startled and incredulous.

“You remember I was away for almost a year. It’s the strangest story and the strangest part of it is that I don’t know whether or not it’s true.”

I told him what had happened, beginning with my adventure in the mist and the strong feelings that had been aroused in me that night. I wanted to keep nothing back. And then I went on to my adventure on the Night of the Seventh Moon.

“Everything was normal until then-and the rest.

Anthony, I am not sure.”

He listened intently.

“It seems incredible,” he said.

“I should like to meet your cousin. “

“She was so good to me. She felt responsible. She couldn’'t do enough.

She looked after me during those months . Then she ceased to write.

“

“Some people are bad correspondents.”

“But I should have thought she would have sent me an address. Anthony, what do you think happened?”

“I know,” he said, ‘that doctors are making rapid advances in this field and that experiments have been made. It must have been that this Dr. Carlsberg used such an experiment on you, with the results we have seen. “

“Is it possible to forget six whole days of your life?”

“I believe it is.”

And then . this horrible thing happened to me . and I cannot remember it. “

“It is better that you don’t. It seems that this was necessary to save you pain, humiliation and perhaps great mental stress which could have been dangerous.”

“I can see that you believe the marriage to have been a myth.”

“If it were not so, where is this man? Why did he not come forward?

Why did he give a false name . a name that you had seen was one of the Duke’s titles? Besides, why should your cousin lie to you? Why should the doctor do so? “

“Why indeed? Everything points one way. You as a practical man see that.”

“My poor Helena,” he said, ‘it was a shattering experience. But it is over now. The child died, so any complications which might have ensued have been removed. “

I closed my eyes. I could not bear it when anyone talked of my child’s death as this happy release.

“I wanted the child,” I said fiercely.

“I would not have cared for these complications.”

“You will have other children, Helena. That is the best way to heal that wound.”

How calm he was, how kind, how unshaken in his love for me.

I knew that I had told him this because the prospect of marriage with him was not an impossibility.

I was so pleased that I had told him. It was a great relief. I began to think how comforting it would be in the future to share my troubles with him.

The more I thought of marriage with Anthony the more rational it seemed. Anthony’s calm reception of my revelation had shown me what a steadying influence he would have on my life; he was a man in whom I knew I could put my trust. Marriage with him would be like coming into a safe harbour after battling against the storms. On the very next Sunday he preached an eloquent sermon about the need to overcome past misfortunes, never to brood on what could not be altered but to try to profit from experience rather than to regret it. His text came from the story of the houses, one of which was built on sand, the other on rock; and the shifting sands of romantic dreams were doomed to destruction while the house which was built on the firm rock of reality would endure.

I was so moved by that sermon that I almost made up my mind to marry him; and yet that very night my dreams were as vivid as ever and I awoke to find myself call for Maximilian.

I found I could talk of my experience with Anthony more freely than I had ever believed possible. It was a pleasure to bring it out into the open. We discussed it at great length and went over every detail. He missed nothing; but he remained firm to his conclusion that I had been the victim of Dr. Carlsberg’s experiment and he believed that the doctor had been right to make it.

Mrs. Greville was constantly busy helping with the work of the parish.

“My goodness,” she used to say, ‘a man in Anthony’s position can’t get along without a woman to help him in his parish duties. “

She was just a little impatient with me. She once reminded me that I was no longer a young girl. I was nearly twenty-six. No longer young.

People would soon be saying I was on the shelf.

How I should have enjoyed pleasing them t As it was, I did everything I could to help Mrs. Greville. I was indefatigable in the organization of the sales of work; and social evenings. I made cups of tea which were distributed at the mothers’ meetings.

“You have a flair for the work,” said Mrs. Greville significantly.

Between my constant visits to the vicarage and the work I did and my occasional spells in the bookshop besides looking after Aunt Caroline, the time flew.

Aunt Caroline grudged every minute I was away from the house.

“Chasing after the vicar,” she used to say.

“I don’t know. Some people are man-mad.”

She hated my going, out but Aunt Matty insisted. She was very excited about my relationship with Anthony. She was so happy in her marriage that she would have liked to see every one about her in the same blissful state-Amelia, myself and even Aunt Caroline.

She always came to the house while I was away.

“Now you go and enjoy yourself,” she would say significantly.

Then she thought it pleasant for me to be in the bookshop.

“Albert says you’re better than anyone in the foreign department and it’s amazing how many foreigners we get in.”

So the time flew past; there was never a moment to spare; and all the time at the back of my mind-and often to the fore of it-was the question: Could I be happy married to Anthony? Could I make him happy? Should I, if I married, cease to be haunted by nostalgic dreams?

I could see a very happy life ahead of me. Anthony’s quiet charm would have been enhanced by a wife who had the enthusiasm I knew I could muster and once my old high spirits returned I would be a useful foil.

Oh yes, I would tell myself again and again, it would be ideal.

Aunt Caroline continued to complain: “Gadding about! Running after Anthony Greville. Hoping he’ll marry you, I suppose. Making yourself cheap.” I wanted to shout at her:

He has asked me; but I didn’`t. And always something held me back from accepting.

I was to have a stall at the sale of work and had been collecting for weeks to fill it. Members of the church sent in their donations. One parcel came containing half a dozen egg-cosies from the Misses Edith and Rose Elkington.

I stared at the name for some seconds, and then I was back in the narrow street with the cobbled road, the overhanging signs; I was standing outside Dr. Kleine’s clinic and my body was heavy with my lively unborn child.

Two women had spoken to me on that occasion. Yes, their name had been Elkington. They sold teas and coffees, homemade cakes and homemade knicknacks like tea-cosy covers and egg-covers.

I shivered and felt vaguely apprehensive.

I was right to feel so. On the first afternoon of the sale of work they were there. Two pairs of bright eyes regarded me. They were like monkey’s eyes dark, living, curious.

“Why, it’s Miss Helena Trant.”

“Yes,” I said.

“We sent the egg-cosies.”

“Thank you. They are very useful.”

“I hope you like the red and green combination,” said the younger.

I said I thought it was most effective.

The elder of the two said: “didn’`t we see you in Germany?”

“Oh yes, I believe you did.”

“You’d gone out with your cousin, I believe, and stayed quite a long time.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Interesting,” said the elder; and I did not much like the gleam in her eye.

It made me more uneasy.

Aunt Caroline worked herself up into a fury that night. Matilda had come in and hurried off early because she was worried about Albert.

You had to be careful with one kidney, she kept saying.

I was late back. I had had quite a success with my stall and by the time I had added up the takings and packed away the unsold goods and gone back with Mrs. Greville with this, it was beginning to get late.

Aunt Caroline screamed at me when I came home.

She really looked very wild, her hair in disorder, her face flushed.

She had been knocking on the floor with her stick for the last half an hour. No one had answered. Our maid Ellen was a lazy good-for-nothing, she declared; Matilda was besotted about that man next door; Amelia had gone to some concert; and I of course was busy chasing Anthony Greville. No one had spared a thought for her, but that was how it was when you were ill. People were so selfish.

She went on and on and I was afraid for her because the doctor had said that she must not become excited. He had given me some pills which should have a calming effect but when I suggested she take one, she cried: “That’s right, blame it on to me. I’m the one who has to calm down. I have to keep quiet. I mustn’`t say a word. You all go gadding off to enjoy yourselves in the grand man-hunt. First Matilda Matty she calls herself now. Matty indeed! She’s gone back to her second childhood. And as for you! You’re brazen you are. I wonder the vicar can’t see through you. Well, you’re not a girl any more, are you? You’re getting a bit worried. You’re going to be left on the shelf if you don’t watch out. But nobody could say you’re not watching out. On the prowl, I’d say.”