Time for Silence

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.”