Time for Silence (50 page)

“It ain’t right for bride and groom to sleep under the same roof on the day before their wedding. It’s unlucky.”

“Oh, Mrs. Mills, I never heard such nonsense. He’s been here before and we’ve visited his family. We were all under the same roof then. Nobody thought anything about it.”

“This is the night before the wedding.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s only yesterday you were a little ’un, Miss Violetta. There you were, sitting at my table and popping raisins in your mouth when you thought I wasn’t looking. And there was Dorabella with you. There’s things you have to learn. I can only tell you it’s unlucky for bride and groom to spend the night before the wedding under the same roof.”

I laughed. “Well, they’ll be married soon and it won’t matter about their being under the same roof.”

“I didn’t say it would. I’m only telling you what I’ve always heard. But I wouldn’t like Miss Dorabella to know.”

“Don’t worry. She wouldn’t care if she did.”

“That’s a fact. She never saw anything she didn’t want to.”

There was a glass jar of raisins on the table. I leaned forward, took one, and, smiling at Mrs. Mills, I put it into my mouth.

“You’re cheeky, you are,” said Mrs. Mills.

And I went out of the kitchen and remembered later that I had not told her there was an extra person for dinner.

It was Christmas Eve. The Yule log had been brought in. In the kitchen they were baking mince pies and preparing the mulled wine for the carol singers when, they came. Hampers were being sent to the people in the cottages. Caddington always kept up the traditions and customs of the past.

My uncle Charles with his family were with us, accompanied by Grandmother Lucie. The house was full.

Grandmothers Lucie and Belinda were closeted together, talking about old times. Their lives had been very much entwined—often dramatically—and there was a certain relationship between them, rather like that which had existed with my mother and my aunt Annabelinda who had died violently and mysteriously many years before. We did not talk about that. Grandmother Belinda did not like us to, and my mother was always reticent about her, too.

Christmas was a time for stirring memories, and I suspected that when Lucie and Belinda were together there was a great deal of talk of those early days.

Edward arrived with Gretchen. They were now engaged to be married.

I often thought what a significant time that had been in Germany. There would not have been these preparations for this wedding now but for that. Edward and Gretchen? Well, he had met her before, but I could not help feeling that the incidents we had seen in the Böhmerwald had precipitated them into a binding relationship. It had certainly made Edward see that he could not leave her in Germany.

There was much merriment at the dinner table that night. We pulled crackers and produced our paper hats and read our mottoes while we laughed at the useless little articles we found in them—hearts of mock-gold and silver, keyrings, tin whistles, and so on.

My father sat at the head of the table. He was very happy. He loved to have the family around him and he, at least, I was sure, had no qualms about the coming marriage, except perhaps to hope that Dermot would become more interested in the estate which would be his…as dedicated as Gordon Lewyth was to ensure its prosperity.

But that might be my imagination again. His daughter was marrying into a family in Cornwall whose position was similar to his own. And I supposed that was something most fathers would want for their daughters. It was really all very satisfactory.

When we rose from the table the carol singers arrived. I heard them in the courtyard. We all went out to greet them as we had every Christmas I remembered. We sang with them, “Hark! the Herald Angels Sing,” “Once in Royal David’s City,” all the carols which we knew so well. The singers came into the hall where Mrs. Mills was waiting with the mince pies and mulled wine.

“Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas…” The words echoed round the hall.

“Long life and happiness to Miss Dorabella.”

Dorabella, flushed, excited, beamed on them all. Dermot was beside her and everyone said what a beautiful bride she would make to stand beside such a handsome bridegroom.

At last the singers had departed and my mother said: “Now it is time for bed, I should say. We have a big day tomorrow.”

We retired to our rooms. I undressed and got into bed. I felt a certain sadness. This was the end of an era. Tomorrow she would be not so much my twin sister as Dermot’s wife.

I was not entirely surprised when she came to me. She stood by the bed. In her blue nightdress with dressing gown to match, her hair about her shoulders, she looked very young and in some ways vulnerable.

“Hello, Vee,” she said.

“Hello,” I replied.

“It’s cold out here.” She took off her dressing gown and let it fall to the floor, then she leaped in beside me.

We laughed.

“You all right?” I asked.

Her arms were tight about me. “H’m,” she murmured.

“You don’t sound sure. You’re not going to call the whole thing off, are you?”

She laughed. “You’re joking!”

“Nothing would surprise me with you.”

“No. I’m wildly, ecstatically happy.”

“Are you?”

“Well…”

“A little scared?”

“Perhaps.”

“They say marriage is a big undertaking.”

“Dermot will be all right. I can look after him.”

“You usually can, as you say, look after people.”

“As I have looked after you all these years?”

“Now it is you who are joking. As I remember, I did most of the looking after.”

“Yes, you have, dear sister. That’s true. And what I want is for you to go on doing it.”

“What! From miles away?”

“That’s what I don’t like about this…being miles away. It won’t be the same, will it?”

“Of course not! Talk sense. How could it be? You won’t be Miss Dorabella Denver any more. You’ll be Mrs. Dermot Tregarland.”

“I know.”

“Dorabella? Seriously, you are not having second thoughts, are you? It is rather late.”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I wish you were coming with me.”

“What! To Venice? A honeymoon
à trois!
I wonder what Dermot would think about that?”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant afterwards. I wish you were coming to Cornwall.”

“I shall come for a visit.”

“You will, won’t you? Often…”

“And you will come here.”

“Yes, there is that. But…I’d like you to be there all the time.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re a big girl now. You don’t need your alter ego there beside you all the time.”

“That’s just it. I do. I have been feeling this for some time. We are like one person. When you think of all that time before we were born…when most children are alone…we were there…growing together. We’re part of each other. There is something between us, something other people can’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Of course you do. You are part of it. You were always there. Do you remember that frightful Miss Dobbs at school? She was always trying to separate us. ‘You must stand on your own feet, Dorabella.’ Do you remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

“I hated her because she wouldn’t let us sit together.”

“And you could not do your sums.”

“Which you were clever at, of course.”

“You would have been all right if you had tried. Miss Dobbs was right. You should have stood on your own feet.”

“Why should I, when I had yours to stand on? And you know, you liked me to. You were always pleased when I couldn’t do those ghastly old lessons without you. You would click your tongue…just like Miss Dobbs. ‘You are really hopeless, Dorabella.’ I can hear your voice now and see the smile of satisfaction on your face while I copied your sums. You were an old swot. You liked to score over me, you liked it when I couldn’t do without you.”

We were laughing together. It was true. I had always wanted her to lean on me. She might charm them, but I could win admiration with my superior scholarship. At least I had that!

Then we began: “Do you remember…?” And we rocked with laughter. There was so much to remember.

I heard the clock in the tower chime midnight.

I said: “Listen. This is your wedding day.”

“Yes,” she said and held me tightly.

“Fancy you, a married woman!”

“It will be wonderful, won’t it?” She spoke lightly but I fancied she was asking for reassurance.

“I know what’s the matter with you,” I said. “It’s something they call prewedding nerves.”

“Is that what it is?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“I…I’m not frightened of Dermot. It’s just that it’s the end of the way it used to be…with us.”

“I shall still be here and you’re not miles away, just in a different part of England. There are trains. I only have to get on one, or you will, and we are together.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. Vee?”

She waited for a while and I said: “What?”

“Promise me this…if I wanted you…suddenly…you’d come. You won’t think that, just because I’m married, there’s any difference between us. You’ll always be with me, won’t you, ‘till death do us part’…?”

I was going to give some flippant answer, saying that that was what she should say tomorrow and she had muddled the occasions, but I sensed the urgency in her, so I repeated, “I’ll be there…whenever you want me…‘until death do us part.’ ”

She kissed me and I released her. She got out of bed, put on her dressing gown, and stood smiling at me.

“And so to bed,” she said. “Busy day tomorrow.”

I lay for some time after she had gone, thinking about her, and I could not dispel the faint feeling of uneasiness.

Everything went according to plan. Dorabella and Dermot were married; the beautifully decorated church was filled not only with friends and relations but the servants from the house and the people from the village.

Dorabella came up the aisle on my father’s arm and went down it on Dermot’s. Everyone was saying how beautiful and radiantly happy she looked, and that it was a wonderful wedding.

There was merrymaking throughout the day; messages of congratulation; people calling; and the reception in the great hall which was scarcely big enough to accommodate them all.

None of Dermot’s family was present. His father had a bad cold and Matilda Lewyth could not leave him; Gordon knew that we would understand that he could not leave the estate at such a time when most of the staff would be thinking of Christmas and being with their families.

This was commented on by Mrs. Mills in the kitchen and no doubt she thought it was not a good omen, especially as the bridegroom had slept under the same roof as the bride the night before the wedding.

However, no one else seemed to have any qualms. The bride and groom were so obviously in love, and I could detect none of that apprehension I had sensed in Dorabella when she had come into my bed on the previous night.

All would be well, I told myself. I should visit them often. It would be fun. I might meet that interesting man Jowan Jermyn again. That would be amusing.

All would be well.

We drank the champagne. My father made a speech. Dermot responded and it was all according to tradition.

The day after Boxing Day the married pair left for Venice.

Then I realized how lonely I felt without her. She had been right about the bond between us. It was as strong as ever. I had liked her to lean on me. I had truly reveled in her copying my sums.

I knew my life was going to be different without her close by. I felt an emptiness…a deep loneliness.

Dorabella and Dermot had returned from their three weeks in Italy. She had written to say she had had a wonderful time. She wrote often and her letters indicated that she was happy at Tregarland’s.

The weather had been rather severe. We had had snow and my mother caught a cold. She was rarely ill and when she was I had always taken on the task of looking after her. But for this I might have gone to Cornwall for a visit.

My mother said: “Dorabella will probably be better settling in on her own. It is all new to her and she may be hankering after her old home for a while. Let her get used to it and we’ll go down in the spring.”

Hearing that my mother was not well, Edward came to see us, and it was then we heard about his coming wedding, which was to be in March.

“It will make things easier,” he said. “We always intended to, but Gretchen feels she should visit her family and, quite frankly, I don’t like her going over. If we were married, she would be English…and that will make a difference.”

“They haven’t had any more of…that sort of thing?” I asked.

He shook his head. “But that man is still around, and I don’t like it.”

“I understand that,” said my mother.

When he had gone my mother expressed a certain fear to me.

“There is no doubt that he cares deeply for Gretchen, and she is a nice girl, but I wonder if he is marrying her out of pity.”

“Well, what is wrong with that?” I asked.

“It just is not enough.”

“He was very interested in her because of that business in the schloss.”

“Oh, I expect it is all right. I always looked upon Edward as my baby.”

“I know. I hope you’ll feel well enough to go to his wedding.”

“I’ve made up my mind that I’m going.”

She did, though the cold was still hanging around. The Greenham grandparents arranged this one. I wondered what Mrs. Mills would have said about its taking place from the bridegroom’s home, which I imagined was stepping aside from convention. But, of course, in this case the bride’s home was in Germany, so perhaps the fates would have made a concession on that account. It was not like Dermot…who could have stayed in a hotel.

I told my mother what I was thinking and we laughed together over it.

It was a charming wedding. Gretchen looked delightful and happy, although she suffered some anxiety over her family, but at least no trouble at the schloss had been reported.

During the honeymoon she and Edward would see her family, and later she did tell me that they were very happy about the marriage.