Philippa Carr - Time for Silence

I learned something about him, too. He was superficial, but he certainly knew how to inspire devotion. It occurred to me that we were all complicated beings and that none of us should stand in judgment against any other.

A few days later I received a letter from Marcus.

My dear Lucinda,

How kind of you to act as go-between in this matter! You especially would understand. Thank you for all the trouble you took. Everyone concerned is most grateful. You have acted as I would expect you to…with the utmost kindness and tact.

I hope all goes well with you always. Annabelinda has told me how delighted you are to have her brother with you. She has explained to me what truly great friends you are.

I am hoping to see you soon.

Admiring you, as ever,

Marcus

I thought how typical of him that letter was. He treated the matter of his secret family as though it were nothing unusual; and the fact that I shared in the secrecy did not perturb him in the least. Who but Marcus would have skimmed over the exposure of his liaison with such composure?

I still found myself thinking of him rather tenderly.

IN JULY OF 1917 ANNABELINDA and Marcus were married.

With my parents, Aunt Celeste and Robert, I went down to the Denver home for the occasion.

Aunt Belinda greeted us with suppressed excitement. There was no doubt of her satisfaction in the marriage.

“Marcus’s parents will be arriving the day before the ceremony,” she told us. “I think they will be leaving the day after.” She grimaced. “They are very grand, of course, not like Marcus, who is the dearest man. I think he is a little in awe of them. Annabelinda says she feels very much as if she is on approval. However, they can’t do much after the wedding, can they? I’m exaggerating, of course. I’m sure they’ll be very nice guests. They’ll adore Big Robert…and my young one, too. Those two get on with most people. In any case, the Denver family goes back as far as theirs. It just happens they didn’t manage to secure a dukedom on the way. All they got was a baronetcy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about such a trivial matter, if I were you,” said my mother.

“Who’s talking about being worried, Lucie? Certainly I’m not. Nothing can go wrong. Once this ring is on my daughter’s finger and it is all signed and sealed, the matter is closed. And at least Marcus is a darling. We all adore him. They will be leaving almost immediately after the ceremony for the honeymoon. It’s a pity they can’t go somewhere romantic like Florence or Venice. But it will have to be Torquay…and then Marcus has to get back to work. Wars are such a bore. They spoil everything.”

“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.”