Time for Silence (6 page)

“She’s walking in her sleep,” Caroline whispered.

“What do we do?” asked Yvonne.

“Go and get Mademoiselle Artois,” said Caroline.

“What?” cried Helga.

“Hush. We mustn’t wake her. We don’t know what to do. We ought to get her back to bed.”

Caroline herself took on the task and hurried upstairs to the room where Mademoiselle Artois slept. It was at the end of the dormitory, where she had two rooms, a bedroom and a study.

Marie Christine by this time had walked down to the end of the hall and sat in an armchair. Caroline had told us to stay quietly and watch her, in case she went somewhere else.

It was not long before Mademoiselle appeared, looking unlike her daytime self, with two rather thin plaits hanging down her back and a look of consternation on her face.

By this time several other girls had arrived on the scene, Anna B with Lucia among them.

Mademoiselle Artois immediately took charge.

“You girls go back at once to your dormitories. Marie Christine has walked in her sleep. Be very quiet. She must not be disturbed.”

The first shock of seeing Mademoiselle in dishabille had passed and the sound of her authoritative voice was as effective by night as it was by day. She went to Marie Christine and took her arm gently. “It’s all right,” she said soothingly. “We shall go to your room. You will be comfortable there.”

Marie Christine stood up and allowed herself to be led. The girls silently watched as Marie Christine ascended the stairs. Mademoiselle was too taken up with Marie Christine to have noticed that we were still there.

We all started to whisper.

“I thought it was the ghost.”

“So did I.”

“Marie Christine looked very strange.”

“So did Mademoiselle.”

Giggles followed.

“Do you think Marie Christine was looking for the ghost?”

“All that talk about it may have preyed on her mind.”

Mademoiselle appeared suddenly.

“Why are you not in your beds? Go to them immediately. All is well. Marie Christine has merely been walking in her sleep. It is not unusual for people to do this. Now, back to bed…all of you.”

The next day everyone was talking about the previous night’s adventure. In the morning Dr. Crozier was called in to see Marie Christine. We were told that she was resting for the day.

At conversazione when we were all assembled, Madame Rochère herself addressed us.

“You girls will be aware that there was a little disturbance in the night. I want to talk to you all very seriously. Marie Christine has suffered a great shock recently, and it has naturally unsettled her. Dr. Crozier has seen her. There is nothing wrong, I am happy to say…except that she is a little disturbed…as we all should be in her position. This has made her uneasy at night when she should be resting, and it has resulted in this sleepwalking. She may not do it again, but if she does and you girls hear her, I want you to do nothing. Do not speak to her or disturb her in any way. Dr. Crozier informs me that it is best to leave her. She will go back to her bed when she is ready and will be unaware of what has happened. I am assured that this is the best way to deal with the matter. She is resting now and will do so during the day. I want no more gathering together and talking, whispering, disturbing everyone, as there was last night.

“Be very gentle with Marie Christine in your contacts with her. Remember that she has suffered a great ordeal, from which she is recovering. And remember this: I want no more walking about in the night. Mademoiselle Artois will deal with everything. That is all.”

Madame Rochère had spoken in French, and her speech was immediately repeated in English, Italian and German—to make sure that everyone understood perfectly what was expected of them.

This impressed upon us that the matter was very serious, although there was nothing unusual about sleepwalking. Lots of people did it. If it had been the ghost, that would have been far more exciting. As it was, what most people remembered about that night was Mademoiselle Artois’s plaits.

The nights were getting longer. We were approaching Christmas and there was a great deal of excitement because most of the girls were going home for the holiday. Aunt Celeste wrote that she would come to the school and take Anna B and me to the
Princesse
’s house where we would spend a night before making the journey home. The girls talked continuously of the arrangements that were being made.

It was November as yet—dark days, just the time for ghosts. Mists in the air, shadows in the rooms, to remind people of them.

Marie Christine seemed better; we would see her laughing now and then. She was going to her aunt’s for Christmas and she had several jolly cousins.

Then rumors about the ghost were started.

One of the senior girls declared she had actually seen it and it was not Marie Christine sleepwalking. She had heard footsteps in the corridor and had opened her door and looked out. She thought that she ought to report it to Mademoiselle Artois if it were Marie Christine sleepwalking, but as it was not, she did no such thing. What she had seen was a figure, a girl, her hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, and over her face was a veil. She had seen it distinctly. There was a full moon and it shone right through the window. There was no mistake. She had seen the veiled woman.

Everyone was talking about it. Janet Carew, the girl who had seen the ghost, was seventeen, and therefore her word should be respected. She had been at the school for three years and was known to be an unperturbable type, not given to flights of fancy. Instead, she was predictable—or more precisely, in the opinion of the girls, rather dull. Yet she insisted that she had seen the ghost.

“What did it do?” she was asked.

“It just…walked.”

“Where did it go?”

“Into one of the dormitories.”

“Which one?”

“I couldn’t see. I think it possibly disappeared into the wall.”

After that, other people said they saw it. There was an uneasiness throughout the school. We were all watchful, anxious not to be alone in any of the big rooms after dark.

There was one night when I could not sleep. It was surprising, because we had all had rather an exhausting day. There had been a long ramble in the afternoon. Miss Carruthers, who taught English and physical training, had said the winter would soon be upon us and we must make the most of the fine days, the “season of mists and fruitfulness.” She was always happy to bring literature and physical exercise together. “A healthy mind and a healthy body” was one of her favorite maxims.

So we had sprinted through fields and thickets almost to the edge of the town of Mons, which we saw in the distance. It was invigorating, but we were all a little weary during conversazione; and as soon as we were in bed most of us were fast asleep.

I had dozed and awoke. The others were all asleep. I could see them clearly because the moon shining through the window was so bright.

I lay there for some time but sleep seemed elusive, and suddenly I thought I heard a sound below.

I got out of bed and went to the window. The dormitories looked out from the back of the house onto the kitchen garden and the orchard. I started with amazement. There was someone down there. I saw her clearly, speeding from the orchard to the back door.

It was Anna B. I would know her anywhere. Her black hair was loose and she was coming purposefully toward the house. I stood watching her…fascinated. She came to the side of the house, opened a window and climbed in.

Where had she been? What had she been doing? It was strange but, in spite of her somewhat superior attitude toward me, I always felt a need to look after her. I had a feeling that she might get into serious trouble.

I turned to look at my roommates. They were all fast asleep.

Anna B would have to come up to her dormitory. I would surprise her. I would tell her what a dangerous thing she was doing. It could result in her expulsion.

I crept out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind me. I went swiftly along the corridor and waited in the shadows.

She came. She did not look like the girl who had recently climbed through the window. She was wearing a veil over her face.

The ghost, of course!

She came silently up the stairs. I saw her clearly in the light from the window. She would never have deceived me into thinking she was the ghost. I would have known her anywhere.

She opened the door of her dormitory. I followed her in. Lucia lifted herself from her bed and said, “You’re late.”

Then both she and Anna B were staring at me.

“What are you doing?” demanded Anna B.

“Where have you been?” I countered.

She just continued to stare at me, puzzled and furious.

“You should be more careful,” I said. “I heard you below. I looked out and saw you come in through the window. I waited for you.”

“You…you spy!”

“Be quiet!” said Lucia. “Do you want to wake the school?”

“You’ll be in trouble, young Lucinda,” said Anna B. “Walking about the dormitories at night.”

“Not as much as you will be, going out and climbing through a window.”

“Listen to me,” said Lucia. “Go back to your dorm. Talk in the morning.”

I could see that was good sense.

I nodded. “All right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Anna B sat on her bed glowering at me. She was still holding the veil in her hand. Lucia had begun to giggle.

I crept back to my room. The three girls were still fast asleep and unaware that I had been away.

I got into bed and lay there shivering. What could she have been doing? And this was not the first time. I guessed Anna B was the “ghost” whom Janet Carew had seen.

But where did she go? One thing was certain: Lucia was in on the secret.

I had to wait until the following afternoon before I could encounter Anna B, for we attended different classes and our paths did not often cross.

When I saw her, she said, “Come into the garden.”

I followed her there.

“What do you mean by spying on me?” she demanded in a bellicose manner. She was clearly on the defensive and distinctly rattled.

“I was not spying!” I retorted. “I heard you and I looked out as anyone would. It could have been someone else who saw you…Mademoiselle Artois for instance.”

“That old fool!”

“She’s not an old fool. She’s probably a good deal wiser than you are. Tell me, where did you go? Why did you go? It’s not the first time, is it?”

“Who are you—the Grand Inquisitor?”

“No. Just someone to whom you owe an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“I could go along and tell Mademoiselle Artois what I saw last night…creeping into the house…pretending to be a ghost. So you are the ghost Janet Carew saw!”

She began to laugh. “So you are a sneak as well as a spy! It was a jolly good idea. It scared them. I got the idea when Marie Christine went walking. I thought if they heard me, they’d think she was sleepwalking again and wouldn’t bother. I thought the veil would be a good idea if anyone should see. They wouldn’t recognize me under it.”

“I recognized you.”

“Oh, well, you’re my dear old friend Lucinda, aren’t you?”

“Annabelinda,” I said, reverting to her proper name. “What were you doing?”

“That’s better,” she said. “I hate ‘Anna B.’ Never call me that again once we are away from here.”

“You’re changing the subject. What were you doing?”

“I felt like a walk.”

“Where to?”

“Just round the grounds. Perhaps I liked playing the ghost.”

“It was very dangerous. Do you want to be expelled?”

“I wouldn’t be.”

“I guess you would.”

“Of course not. Grandpère Bourdon is a great friend of Madame Rochère’s. They would work something out. He would plead for me.”

“You were taking a risk.”

“Haven’t you yet learned that I
like
taking risks?”

“Tell me what all this is about. I don’t believe you did all that just because you felt like a midnight stroll in the grounds.”

“You’re getting too clever, little Lucinda.”

“Which means you are not going to tell me. But Lucia knows.”

“Lucia’s a good sort.”

“She’s another such as you are.”

“Well, that may be so.”

“Where did you go, Annabelinda?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re eighteen.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

“You’ll understand then. And perhaps you will have done the same thing yourself.”

Her eyes were dancing. I felt it was so mysterious, but I knew she was not going to tell me.

“I’m going in now,” she said. “Mustn’t be late for conversazione, must we? So let’s be good little girls. Come on.”

Later, when I saw her giggling with Lucia as though they were sharing secrets, I felt bitterly hurt.

C
HRISTMAS WAS NOW ALMOST
upon us. Bustle and preparation permeated the house.

A party of students went into Mons in the company of Miss Carruthers and Mademoiselle du Pont, who taught French, to buy presents for friends at home.

It was only a short journey by train and Miss Carruthers was very eager that we should see some of what she called “the points of interest” before we spent our time in the frivolous pleasure of gift selecting.

She lectured us as we chuffed along.

“Now, girls, you must know that Mons is situated between the Trouille and Haine rivers at the junction of two canals. One of these was built by Napoleon. Mons was at one time a Roman camp and it is the capital of the province of Hainaut.”

None of us was paying full attention to this; we were all consulting our gift lists. Anna B was looking a little preoccupied. She was sitting with Lucia and talking to her now and then, but I thought she was somewhat bored with the whole proceedings.

After arriving in the town, Miss Carruthers insisted we do a little sightseeing. We were all afraid that there would be too little time left for shopping. We went to see the Church of St. Waudru and the belfry famous for its forty-seven-bell carillon.

“And, girls,” said Miss Carruthers, “the Battle of Malplaquet was fought and won by our own great Duke of Marlborough not far from here.”