Philippa Carr - Time for Silence

My father paused and looked at me.

“And you think that spies discovered this and blew it up?” I said,

He nodded “That is exactly what I think. But who? I feel very deeply involved as it was my suggestion that the work should take place there. I had secret documents in London giving important details of the place and the work which was being done.”

“What work was it?”

“Too complicated to explain. Experiments with a new armored vehicle which would be valuable on the battlefield. It was being perfected. And now much of the work has been destroyed.”

“Completely?” I asked.

“Oh, no. But it will set us back months. The worrying fact is that certain documents in my possession must have been seen by someone who has made use of them—with this result, in the first place, the nature of the work has been revealed to the enemy; in the second place, they have learned where it was being carried out…and in the third place, they have found a means of blowing up the house.”

“I remember the caretaker and the dog. He was guarding the place, of course.”

“Now, Lucinda, one of the most alarming aspects of the whole matter is that someone must have got into the London house…someone who had seen secret papers which were kept there for safety. Who could it be? There was no break-in. At least, if there was, I knew nothing about it.”

“You mean, it could be someone in the house?”

“Well, not necessarily living there. It could be someone who has access. Perhaps a workman coming to do some job. Your mother and I have talked this over. You were so interested in the Priory. I have explained why I want you to stop talking of it. But there is something more. I want you to be watchful, Lucinda. If you see anything…anyone act suspiciously…let me or your mother know at once…whoever it is. We cannot eliminate anyone from this. You can see what danger there is. I want to know who saw those secret papers in my room, who made it possible for the Priory to be destroyed.”

“Yes,” I said. “I want to know, too.”

My mother took my hand. “I’m glad you know about this, Lucinda,” she said.

“The idea of someone’s coming into the house…going through my papers…is intolerable,” said my father. “It makes one realize how dangerous the times are. So, Lucinda, keep quiet about the Priory. Avoid bringing up the matter…and keep your eyes open.”

“I will,” I said. “Oh, I will.”

THE SPRING HAD COME and little seemed to have changed. It would be two years in August since the war had started, and those who had prophesied that it would not last six months were silent. Even the most optimistic no longer believed that the end was in sight.

I had had two letters from Robert, heavily censored, and I had no idea where he was except that it was “somewhere in France.” He was often in my thoughts, and so was Marcus. I think I was more anxious about Robert, who was out there in acute danger. Marcus at least was safe in a hospital bed, although he must have been badly wounded to have been there so long.

I had seen Annabelinda at infrequent intervals. She and her mother came to London and stayed at our house, even though we were at Marchlands.

It was May—a beautiful month, I had always thought—on the brink of summer, the days not yet too hot, and the hedges were white with wild parsley and stitchwort. I took long walks in the forest. It was quiet, just as it had been when William the Conqueror and Henry VIII had hunted there.

Then I thought of that terrible battlefield where Robert would be. I dreamed about him in the trenches. I could see him with that rather deprecating grin, and I knew I could not bear it if he did not come back. What I wanted to hear more than anything was that he was coming home on one of the troopships…perhaps slightly wounded, enough to keep him with us…as Marcus was.

We saw little of Uncle Gerald. He was in France now. People were looking grim. There was no longer any excitement about the war—except for people like Charles, whose ideas of it were far from reality.

Annabelinda came to Marchlands with her mother.

Aunt Belinda was very effusive. She was involved in all sorts of charities, but knowing Aunt Belinda, I guessed that her main task would be delegation. She would arrange for others to do the work and take credit for it when it was done.

Perhaps I was unfair in my judgment and exaggerated a little, but when I saw how my mother worked, I did feel a little impatient with the Aunt Belindas and Annabelindas of this world.

“Dear Lucie,” gushed Aunt Belinda. “So busy with all this wonderful work. You’ll be decorated before the war’s over, I’m sure. And you deserve it, dear.”

“I am rewarded without that,” my mother replied. “It is a joy when you see these men getting better. And we are lucky to have the forest so close.”

Annabelinda and I rode through the trees. She was rather disgruntled.

“I’ve had enough of this wretched war,” she said.

“Do you think you are the only one?” I asked.

“Certainly I don’t. That’s why someone should put a stop to it. Do you realize I am nearly nineteen years old?”

“Well, I suppose you must be. I shall be seventeen in September.”

“We’re getting old. If this miserable war goes on for another two years…just think. What about us?”

I laughed at her.

“What’s amusing?” she demanded.

“I was just thinking about all those men who are out there fighting. Your own brother, for instance. And you ask, what about us!”

“Oh, Robert will be all right. He always has been.”

“This is war!”

“Don’t I know it! I should have had a season by now.”

“That really is world-shattering.”

“Don’t try to be a cynic. You’re not clever enough for it. It’s so boring in the country. You must find it so, too. What do you do all day? Old Carruthers must be a bit of a hard taskmistress.”

“We get on well. I enjoy our lessons.”

“You would. You were always a bit of a swot.”

“You were never interested in anything but yourself. Edward is a lot of fun. You might have shared in that.”

She flushed. “You are a beast, Lucinda.”

“You’re so unnatural.”

“It isn’t what I want to be, but what can I do?”

“Being you…only what you do, I suppose. I’m not complaining. He’s a darling. Andrée and I spend a good deal of time with him, so you see, we are not bored. Then I do a little in the hospital.”

“What sort of thing?”

“I go round and talk to some of them…those who are well enough to talk. Actually, we don’t have a lot of bad cases here. I think they consider we are more of a convalescent home.”

“That sounds interesting. As a matter of fact, it’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I thought I might come and help a bit.”

“I can’t quite see you…”

“I’m bright and amusing. I could help with the patients and do anything else that had to be done. One wants to do one’s share. My mother was saying I ought to do something. I help her a lot with her charities and things. I’m quite good at it. But I should like to do more. My mother is talking to yours about my coming here for a while to help.”

“You could train as a nurse.”

She looked at me in horror. “That would take ages.”

“There are places you can go to for a period.”

“Oh, no,” she said. “The war would be over before I could be of any use. I want just to come and help. And what about you? You’re not a trained nurse.”

“No, but then this is my home and I can be called on at any time.”

“Well, it’s my home in a way. We’re like a family. Your mother and my mother…their upbringing and all that. They were in the same nursery together.”

“I know. You’d find the country boring.”

“You’re trying to put me off. Don’t think I don’t know why.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were always jealous of me…and Marcus.”

“Jealous of you? Why?”

“Because he was more attracted to me than to you. I know you thought he liked you at one time. He’s like that with every girl. It’s just his way. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

“What’s that got to do with your coming here?”

She smiled slyly. “He’ll be ever so pleased when he finds I’m here,” she said.

I still said nothing.

“I’ve been to see him in that hospital,” she went on. “My mother and I went. It was so interesting. Poor Marcus! He really did get it, didn’t he? That ghastly place, Gallipoli. And it was all a mistake. They should never have gone there. Well, he’s home now. They wouldn’t let him out of the hospital. And they won’t for another month, he thinks. He says he’s looking forward to his convalescence…here.”

“I now see the reason for your sudden desire to serve your country, which really means serving your own ends.”

“Don’t be so pompous! Of course, Marcus is an added attraction, but I have been thinking for a long time that I should like to come here. I shall be very good at helping to enliven the days of those poor soldiers. They’ve had such a miserable time in the trenches and everywhere. So I shall be coming to help in the good work. I shall go back to London to do some shopping and get myself ready. Then I shall descend on you.”

I was silent. I could imagine her with those men who were getting better and were ready to indulge in a little recreation, which, with Annabelinda, would mean flirtation. There was no doubt that they would enjoy her company.

It was two weeks later that she arrived. I have to admit that she was an immediate success with the men—less so with the staff.

My mother talked about her to me when we were alone.

“She reminds me so much of her mother. At times I imagine I am eighteen again and she is Belinda. They are so animated…vital…both of them. That is their great attraction, though they both have a rather unusual kind of beauty. I think it is the French in them. I can see a good deal of Jean Pascal Bourdon there. I wonder how he is getting on? I suppose he could have got away, but he is the typical French aristocrat; he would not desert his country. And I should imagine he will be wily enough to get by. About Annabelinda. I think, on the whole, she’s an asset. I saw her wheeling out Captain Gregory. He is so depressed about his disability. I don’t think he will ever be any better. She was doing her usual line of innocent flirtation, and for the first time I saw him actually smile.”

“She’s certainly good in that respect,” I said.

“One can’t help liking her. It was the same with her mother. They are born so naively selfish.”

There was still no news of Marcus. He must have been four months in that hospital.

We had had some startling news. On the fifth of June, Lord Kitchener was on his way to a meeting with the Russians, when the Hampshire, the ship on which he was sailing, was struck by a German mine, and he was drowned.

England was plunged into mourning. And still the war went on.

To cheer us came news of Marcus’s imminent arrival. He was brought in an army vehicle and was able to walk with a cane, though with some difficulty.

We were all waiting to greet him.

He looked a little thin, slightly paler, but he was as full of life as ever.

He took my hand and gazed at me with such delight that I felt my spirits rising.

Then he saw Annabelinda. “And Miss Annabelinda, too!” he exclaimed. “A double blessing! How fortunate! Mrs. Greenham…and Miss Carruthers! And the capable Mademoiselle Latour. And where is Master Edward?”

“He’s sleeping at the moment,” said Andrée.

“Our band of adventurers! Mrs. Greenham, I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to come.”

“We have all been very impatient for your arrival and quite put out because it took so long,” said my mother.

So there he was, installed at Marchlands. Immediately the place seemed different—and I was not the only one who felt this.

He was put into a small ward with three other officers. One of the assets of Marchlands was that we had several of these small wards. It meant that instead of the long rooms with rows of beds, such as are found in most hospitals, we had these cozy apartments, which before had been large, airy bedrooms.

The three men with Marcus were a middle-aged major, a captain of about thirty and a young lieutenant. My mother had said they would be the sort who would get on well together.

It soon became clear that Marcus was a welcome newcomer. We often heard laughter coming from the ward, and the nurses vied with each other for the pleasure of looking after that particular quartet.