Time for Silence

There were other songs, several from the beginning of the century. “Soldiers of the Queen” was very well received, though not applicable to the times; then there was “Goodbye, Dolly, I must leave you,” another favorite. And someone recited Gunga Din. All were vociferously applauded and everyone agreed it had been a memorable day.

I would always remember it, too, and when I did I would think of Marcus, making light conversation in the garden, declining my unspoken invitation to talk. I could not help feeling a certain humiliation.

I had been foolish in imagining what was not there.

Three weeks later Marcus left. My father was with us on his last weekend and Marcus dined with us.

He said how much he had enjoyed his stay with us and that my mother deserved the Victoria Cross for all she had done.

It was all very merry. Annabelinda looked especially attractive. She sat next to Marcus and I felt there was a certain understanding between them.

How could I have been so vain as to think he was in love with me? He was a man of the world and I had temporarily amused him because I was young and innocent. Had he not stressed my innocence? He had wanted me to retain it when I grew up. Why should he? What could it matter to him? It was just idle talk and I had been naive enough to take it seriously.

He talked to my father at dinner, explaining that he would be at the War Office.

“You will have to be in London,” said my father. “Where will you stay?”

“I’ll see if I can get a small place…a pied-à-terre. I shall go down to the family at weekends. If invited, I might come to Marchlands to see how you are all getting on without me.”

“You will be welcome at any time,” my mother told him. “But I must warn you. Guests often get pressed into service.”

“That would be interesting. But I must warn you. I should be an awful dud.”

“We’d teach you,” replied my mother.

“Then that’s a promise.”

“It’s wonderful to see you recovered.”

“Well, yes…but not fit enough to go out there again.”

“I can’t say that greatly grieves me.”

“The War Office will be interesting,” said my father.

“All the red tape and that.”

“But quite an experience.”

“How are things getting on in the House?”

“Something has to happen,” my father said. “We’ve got to win this war soon. It’s been going on too long.”

“You mean Asquith will go.”

“Lloyd George is waiting in the wings. There’ll be a change soon. I’d say before Christmas. L.G. will be going to the Palace to kiss hands.”

“As soon as that! Poor old Asquith!”

“Another Christmas,” said my mother, “and we are still at war.”

“It has got to end soon,” said my father. “If the Americans come in, I’d say the end was in sight.”

“And will they?”

“It seems possible.”

“I just long for it to be over,” said my mother.

“It will be…in time.”

A week after Marcus left, Annabelinda announced that her mother needed her at home and she thought she ought to go to her.

“You’ll manage very well without me,” she said.

I could not resist saying, “As you devoted yourself almost entirely to Major Merrivale and he is no longer with us, I daresay we shall manage very well.”

She smirked. “Poor Lucinda,” she said.

I was glad to see her go. She reminded me too bitterly of my humiliation over Marcus.

At the end of October, Miss Carruthers was married to Dr. Egerton. It was a simple ceremony and there was a small reception at Marchlands afterward.

I was very pleased to see Miss Carruthers so happy. Her cousin came for the ceremony, and I could see immediately why Miss Carruthers had not been eager to share her home. She was a formidable lady, but at this time quite affable and clearly not displeased by the marriage. So all was extremely satisfactory in that respect.

The new Mrs. Egerton made herself useful in the hospital every afternoon, just as she had when teaching me.

“It is very comforting that all has turned out so well,” said my mother. “I wonder what will happen to Andrée.”

“We wouldn’t want her to leave us,” I replied. “She is so good with Edward. Were you thinking of a husband for her?”

“I do often think of people who are working as she does and Miss Carruthers did. Think of the care Andrée gives to Edward…as most nannies do give to the children they look after. In time they have to face the fact that those children do not belong to them. I wonder what she will want to do when the war is over? Perhaps go back to Belgium.”

“She was very anxious to get away,” I said.

“There is that brother of hers. I suppose she doesn’t hear anything of him. It must be very sad for her.”

“She is sure he is with the French army.”

“Anything might have happened to him. She’s a strange girl.”

“Do you think so?”

“She seems so…contented.”

“Does that make her strange? She was glad to get away; she did not want to go to her aunt; and she loves Edward dearly. He is such a darling. I can see why she feels contented.”

“But she must worry about her brother.”

“I believe she was not very close to any of her family.”

“I wonder what will happen to her?”

“Who knows what will happen to anyone?”