Time for Silence (8 page)

She sounded more like herself. I wrote and told her that I would stay for two weeks at the Château Bourdon before going home, if that were agreeable. That was long enough, I stressed, for I was longing to see my parents after the long term away.

School went on as usual. There was a midnight feast. Caroline had brought a cake with icing on the top when she came back from the Christmas holidays and this was a great treat. But nothing seemed quite the same without Annabelinda.

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Caroline.

“Some awful illness which takes months to cure,” I replied.

“Consumption, I suppose,” said Caroline wisely.

“I don’t think so.”

“People do go into declines.”

“She hasn’t looked well for some time. So perhaps it is that.”

“They usually go to Switzerland for a cure,” said Helga. “It’s the mountain air or something.”

Switzerland? I thought. Carl Zimmerman came from there.

I was thinking more and more of Carl Zimmerman. The illness had started after he had left. It was pining for him which had brought it on.

I started to wonder about him; I would walk about the grounds remembering our encounter with him. I went to look at the cottages, one of which had been occupied by him.

There seemed to be someone in one of them. I studied it. It was clearly inhabited. I strolled around and then went back to the house.

And the next afternoon I found myself wandering that way again.

I walked around to the back of the cottages. They had gardens there, and in one of them was a woman hanging out washing.

She called good afternoon to me and added, “You’re from the school. I’ve seen you round here before.”

“Yes,” I said. “I suppose you work for the school?”

“Not me. My husband does. He works in the gardens. There’s plenty of work there.”

“I suppose so.”

She came toward me. She had a pleasant, happy face. I noticed that she was going to have a baby…and quite soon. She leaned her arms on the wall and surveyed me.

“Have you been long at the school?” she asked.

“I came last September.”

“Where do you come from? England, I guess.”

“How did you know?”

“Well, you pick them out. It is the way you speak French perhaps.”

“Is it as bad as that?”

“Never mind,” she said. “And it is not bad at all. I know what you are saying.”

“Oh, good. Did you know Carl who worked here for a time?”

“Oh, yes. Not much of a gardener, my Jacques said. I knew him. Didn’t stay long.”

“Why did he go away so soon?”

“I don’t think he ever meant to stay. One of those here-today-and-gone-tomorrow types.”

“Well, I’d better get back.”

“Good-bye,” she said cheerfully.

A week or so later I saw her again. She looked a little larger.

“Hello. You again,” she said. “You seem to like this place.”

“I like to get out at this time of the day, and it is pleasant in the gardens.”

“Spring really is here.”

“Yes. It’s lovely.”

“It’s time for my rest. I have to rest now, you know.”

I knew what she meant. “You’re…very pleased about it, aren’t you? I mean…the baby.”

“So you’ve noticed.” She laughed loudly, indicating this was a joke, as her condition was so obvious.

“Well…er…I did.”

“A young girl like you!”

“I’m not really so young.”

“No. Of course you’re not. Young people know about such things nowadays. You’ve guessed right. I am pleased. We always wanted a child, Jacques and me. Thought we were never going to have one and then the good God saw fit to grant our wish.”

“It must be wonderful for you.”

She nodded, blissfully serene.

I went away thinking about her.

One day when Miss Carruthers took us on another tour of Mons, we had a chance to visit the shops again and I bought a baby’s jacket. I proposed to take it to the woman in the cottage. I had discovered her name. It was Marguerite Plantain. Jacques Plantain had been employed on the school estate for many years, and his father and grandfather had worked for the Rochères before there had been a school.

Marguerite was delighted with the jacket. She told me how she enjoyed our little chats over the wall. I was invited into the cottage on that occasion. It was very small, with two rooms upstairs, two downstairs and a washhouse at the back.

She took great pleasure in showing me the things she had prepared for the baby. I was very interested and told her that I hoped it would arrive before I left for the summer holidays.

“School closes at the very end of July,” she said. “Leastways it always has. Well, the baby should be here a week or so before that.”

“I shall want to know whether it’s a girl or boy. I’d like a little girl.”

“
You
would!” She laughed at me. “Well, it is for the good God to decide that. Jacques wants a boy, but I reckon he’ll be mightily pleased with whatever is sent us. All I want is to hold this little one in my arms.”

Spring was passing. Summer had come. Only one more month before school finished. I was enjoying school more than ever. Caroline and I had become firm friends and I was quite fond of the other two.

Country walks, paper chases, plenty of fresh air. That was the best medicine, said Miss Carruthers. There were complaints from Mademoiselle Artois because we left the dormitory untidy. Dancing lessons, piano lessons…through the long warm days. But I was always missing Annabelinda and waiting eagerly for some news of her.

She did write now and then. She was getting better. She thought she would be really well by the time I joined her. It was very hot at Bourdon and they were all complaining about the effect the weather was having on the grapes.

“I look forward to seeing you, Lucinda,” she wrote, “and hearing about all that’s been going on in that old school.”

And I was certainly looking forward to seeing her.

In the middle of July, Marguerite gave birth to a stillborn son. I felt very unhappy because I could not bear to think of her suffering. I knew how desperately she wanted that child, and now, poor Marguerite, all her plans and hopes had been in vain.

The blinds were drawn at the cottage. I could not bring myself to call. I feared she would remember our conversations about the baby and that would make her more unhappy.

I did not go near the cottage for two weeks, but I continued to think about her. Then one day, when I did walk that way, I went to the back of the cottage and looked over the wall. In the garden, in a perambulator, lay a baby.

I could not contain my curiosity. The next day I went there again. The perambulator and the baby were in the garden. I went around to the front of the cottage and knocked on the door.

Marguerite opened it and looked at me. I felt the tears in my eyes. She saw them and turned her head away for a second or two.

Then she said, “My dear, it was good of you to come.”

“I didn’t like to before…but I thought of you.”

She laid a hand on my arm. “Come inside,” she said.

I did so. “I was so very sorry…” I began.

“It was a bitter blow. I just wanted to die. All our hopes…all our plans…and then to end like that. Sit down. I am glad you came. I’ll not forget. The little coat you bought…it will be used.”

“It seems so cruel…”

She nodded. “I was wicked. I cursed the good God. Jacques did, too. We were beside ourselves with grief. It was our dream, you see…both of us. We waited so long, and then…it ended like that. It was more than we could endure. And I cursed the good God. I said how could He do this? What have we done to deserve it? But God is good. He had His reasons. And now He has given me this little one to care for. It is one of His miracles. It eases the pain and I love him already. It is not like my own…but they say it will come to be like that…and it seems so…a little more every day.”

“So you have a baby after all?”

“Yes. He is mine now…mine forever. He needs me and I need him. Poor mite. He has no mother, no one to care for him. So I am going to give him that loving care I would have given my own.”

“Where did he come from?”

“It was Madame Rochère. She heard of this little one. She said, how would it be if I took him in place of the one I had lost? I didn’t say yes then. I didn’t feel there was anything that could replace my own. Then she said this little one needed me…and although I might not realize it, I needed him. It wasn’t the money, of course.”

“The money?”

“Oh, yes. He’s being paid for. He’s got no mother, but there are relations who will pay to have him cared for. Jacques and I…we shall be richer than we ever dreamed. But it is not the money….”

“I am sure it isn’t.”

“We talked it over. I said, that baby will be ours forever. I don’t want anyone to come and take him away. If he’s mine, he’s to be mine for always. And they said that was how they wanted it to be. There’s money put away for him. Every year it will be sent. He’s not to want for anything. And, my dear, I love him already.”

“It’s a wonderful story, Madame Plantain. It’s like a miracle. You lost your own baby, but if you hadn’t, this little baby wouldn’t have had you to look after him.”

“Oh, they’d have found someone to do that. This sort of people have money and can arrange things. But with me, it’s not the money. It’s the baby. He’s a little dear. I reckon he knows me already.”

“May I see him?”

“Of course you can. I’ll fetch him in. He’s only a little thing as yet. Might be a week or so older than mine…no more.”

“When did he come?”

“A few weeks back. Madame Rochère arranged it. I think it must have been someone from the lawyers who brought him. There was a paper. We had to put our mark on it, both Jacques and me. And it’s all signed and sealed. I said, there’s only one thing I want to know: The baby is mine forever, just as though I’d given life to him. And they said that was in the paper. But you must see him. Just a moment. I’ll fetch him.”

She brought him in. He was a very young baby with fine, fair hair. His eyes were closed for he was sleeping, so I could not see what color they were. But I guessed they were blue. He seemed to be a healthy child.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Edouard. That was given him. And of course he’ll take our name. I would not have it otherwise.”

“So he will be yours, Madame Plantain, yours entirely.”

“That’s so. And I’ll never forget what he is doing for us. The first thing Jacques looks for when he comes in is this little fellow.”

She sat rocking the baby, who continued to sleep.

“I think it is wonderful that it has ended like this,” I said.

“It was like a miracle from heaven,” she said. “And I shall always believe it was such.”

It was on the first day of August that the term finished. The
Princesse
came to the school. She was going to take me straight to the château.

Madame Rochère gave her the respect due her rank and they spent a little time together.

As we left I was reminded of my arrival the previous September, and I thought what a lot had happened in one short year.

The
Princesse
was as affable and gracious as ever and we had a pleasant journey down to Bordeaux. At the station the Bourdon carriage was waiting to collect us and we made the journey comfortably to the château.

I was very much looking forward to seeing Annabelinda. The
Princesse
had told me that she had made a good recovery and was almost her old self.

“We make her rest a little each day because it was a long and trying illness. However, we feel that we have pulled her through most satisfactorily.”

Annabelinda was waiting to greet us with Jean Pascal beside her. She looked well and even blooming.

“It’s lovely to see you, Lucinda,” she cried. She hugged me warmly and I felt very emotional.

“Annabelinda, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“It was an awful time.”

Jean Pascal had taken my hands and was kissing them.

“Welcome, dear child. How happy we all are that you are here. And how do you think Annabelinda is looking, eh?”

“She looks better than she ever did.”

He laughed. “That’s what I tell her. You see, my dear, you and I think alike.”

“And she really is completely recovered?”

“Yes…yes. There is no doubt of that. We are going to take care of her and make sure there is not a relapse.”

We went into the château, which always overawed me. My mother said she had felt the same about it when she was there. The past seemed to encroach on the present, and one thought of all the people who had lived there through the ages and had perhaps left something of themselves behind.

We ate in the intimate dining room, and Jean Pascal and the
Princesse
did seem genuinely happy to have me there. As for Annabelinda, she made me feel very welcome.

“I only hope your parents are not angry with us for keeping you away from them,” said Jean Pascal.

“They will spare us a little time, I am sure,” said the
Princesse
.

“If Annabelinda can come back with me, they will be very pleased,” I said.

“I think it is certain that she will be well enough to do that,” answered Jean Pascal.

The conversation continued in such a manner, but I felt there was a certain strain and that Jean Pascal was aware of it.

I was glad when we retired to our rooms, and I could not resist going along to Annabelinda’s.

She was in bed but not asleep.

She smiled at me. “I guessed you’d come along,” she said.

“Well, it’s so long since we’ve had a real talk.”

“Tell me about school. How were they when I left so suddenly? Was there a lot of talk?”

“They could talk of nothing else. They gave you all manner of diseases…from scarlet fever to beriberi.”

She smiled. “It was all rather grim, wasn’t it?”

“It’s all over now. You’re as well as ever. Tell me about it. What was really wrong?”

“Grandpère says I am not to talk about it. He says it will be better for me not to. I’ve got to put it all behind me. It could spoil my chances…”

“Spoil your chances? Chances of what?”