The Shadow of the Lynx (26 page)

But there is one thing which is more important to you than either of these two contestants for your affections. That is revenge. “

All he would say was: “One day you will understand.”

As we rode back together he made me promise not to ride

out alone again. I reminded him that I had done it often in the past.

He then recalled the occasion when I had been thrown from my horse;

then there was the affair of Jacob Jagger and the fire.

My riding had improved, I pointed out. I would not take a mount that I couldn’t manage. No man would dare molest me now and if there was a fire in the neighbourhood T would be aware of it and certainly would not venture out. What other dangers were there?

“I’m afraid of losing you,” he said.

“That you have come to me is like a miracle. Everything I ever wanted in life is mine, or about to become mine. I don’t trust life. I can’t help experiencing this fear that just as I am about to grasp complete contentment it may be snatched from me.”

“You have such thoughts! You surprise me.”

“I’m serious.”

“Well, I’ll make this concession. I won’t ride out alone until after the wedding. Then you will have to begin persuading me again.”

“It’s a bargain,” he said; and we rode home indulging in that lighthearted banter which seemed to amuse him and which no one had dared exchange with him before.

My wedding-day was almost upon us, and preparations were going on apace. The smell of pies and pastries permeated the house. Adelaide made an enormous wedding-cake of six tiers. But I could not rid myself of the idea that something tremendous was about to happen to prevent the wedding’s taking place. There would be some impediment. How absurd! As if anything could prevent happening that on which Lynx had set his heart. Is this a premonition? I asked myself.

Stirling avoided me although I had gone out of my way to seek his company. If only he would say something; that he was as pleased as Adelaide at my approaching marriage hurt me deeply. And yet was he?

We were to be married in the little church about a quarter of a mile from the house; the ceremonial reception would follow in the house itself. In the wardrobe in my room hung my wedding-dress. Adelaide had put it there the previous day; she had only just finished it. It was a work of art, I told her. I was to wear a veil and orange blossom which we had bought in Melbourne.

On the night before my marriage my doubts and fears

returned a hundredfold. I suppose, I reassured myself, many brides feel like this on their wedding eves. I kept thinking of Jessica’s grim warning. Would he change towards me as he had towards Arabella and Maybella? He had compared his love for me with that he had felt for Arabella as a forest fire compared with a candle flame. A forest fire—an unfortunate comparison! And how absurd to brood on Jessica’s grim warnings. She was half mad anyway.

I pictured his eyes tomorrow when he saw me and I wanted to put on my wedding-dress to reassure myself that I looked beautiful. I slipped it on marvelling at the work which had gone into it. What a devoted daughter Adelaide was! And now I should be her stepmother—stepmother to Adelaide and Stirling!

I put the veil over my face and adjusted the orange blossom. The effect was delightful.

“All brides are beautiful,” I said aloud.

“Yes,” I answered myself, ‘but you really are, dressed like this. “

“It’s only the dress and the veil. It hides your face just enough.

Will he think you are. beautiful? “

“He already does.”

“As beautiful as Arabella … Maybella … and the others?”

“What nonsense! They are dead and you are young. You are here and you are not just a desirable young woman. You are more to him than anyone has ever been. You gave him back his youth. He said so. And you gave him gold.”

I started, my cheeks burning. I did wish Jessica would stop that unpleasant habit of creeping about the place and suddenly appearing without warning.

“Jessica,” I said reproachfully, “I didn’t hear you knock.”

“It’s because you were talking to yourself. Maybella used to talk to herself. You look just like her with the veil hiding your features. It could be Maybella standing there, more than thirty years ago.”

“I’m sure fashions have changed since then.”

“The veil was different. She didn’t have orange blossom. There was just white satin niching. It was a lovely veil and she looked so beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone so happy as Maybella was on her wedding morning. But then she didn’t know what was waiting for her.”

I trier! to be practical.

“Now you’re here, Jessica, you can unhook me.”

I took off the veil and orange blossom and laid them in their box.

Then I turned my back to her while she fumbled with hooks and eyes.

“It’s unlucky to try your dress on the night before your wedding.”

“What nonsense!”

“Maybella tried hers on the night before … just as you did. There she was parading in it.

“Do I look beautiful, Jessie?” she asked.

“I

must. He’ll expect it. “” “Old wives’ tales shouldn’t affect us. Now I must get to bed. I have a busy day before me tomorrow. Good night, Jessica.”

She shook her head in resignation.

“Good night.”

I undressed and got into bed but in a short time she was toaek again.

“I’ve brought you some hot milk. It will make you sleep.”

“That’s kind of you, Jessica.”

She set it down on the table by my bed, and stood there waiting.

“Don’t wait,” I said.

“I’ll have it in a moment. Good night and thank you.”

She glided out. I had an impulse to lock the door. Then I laughed at myself. Why be afraid of simple Jessica? I took a sip of the milk. I didn’t really want it but she would be hurt if I didn’t drink it.

I thought of Lynx and all those years ago when he had made love to both of them—Maybella because she was his master’s daughter and Jessica presumably because he had wanted to. That was all over. He was changed. He was not the same man who had come into the yard with the marks of manacles on his wrists. But he had never forgotten that nor forgiven it. Oh Lynx, I thought, you are as vulnerable as the rest of us; and I told myself that he needed me to look after him. He, too, had lessons to learn from life; and one was that revenge was futile—a destroyer of peace, and peace was at the very foundations of happiness.

Wise Nora, I commented and smiled to myself. And dear Lynx, to whom on the morrow I should make my vows. It was what I wanted—to be with him, to cherish him, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health until death did us part. At last I understood.

I was the luckiest woman. Lynx loved me. Lynx loved himself, beloved and feared above all other men. Lynx loved me.

Now I understood Jessica’s hatred; it was due to the fact that she had loved him and lost him. She may have been little or nothing to him but he had been everything to her; and she had seen him marry her cousin, and had lived under the same roof for years. No wonder she had grown a little mad. How mad?

I looked at the milk and a terrible suspicion came to me. On impulse I picked it up and, going to the window, threw it out. Then I laughed at myself.

“Wedding eve dramatics!” I said aloud.

“You imagine that a poor little woman might try to poison you, to take revenge on the man she once loved—perhaps still does—because she cannot bear to see him marry.”

I opened the cupboard door and looked at my dress. Then I opened the box and fingered the veil.

After tomorrow, I thought, all doubts will be gone. We shall be together . until death do us part.

I was asleep almost immediately.

I must have dreamed that the ghost of Maybella came to me and stood by my bed. She took the veil and orange blossom from my head—for in the dream I was wearing it—and put there instead a veil with white satin ruching.

Then I heard a voice. It was Jessica’s.

“You are ready now, Maybella.

But remember it is only for a little while. “

I woke up and was clammy with sweat. In the first few seconds of waking I thought Maybella had indeed returned from the grave to warn me, for there before me was the wedding veil with white satin niching;

and it was a moment or two before I saw that it was draped over the figurine on my dressing table.

I got out of bed and went over to it.

It was the veil of which Jessica had talked. She must have brought it down after I was asleep. I looked at my bedside table. Yes, the glass which had contained the milk had gone.

I took up the veil and looked at it. There was an odour of mothballs surrounding it. I supposed Jessica had treasured it all the intervening years since Maybella had taken the vows which I was about to take tomorrow . no, it would be today.

What an old ghoul she was!

I laughed, draped the veil back over the figurine and went back to bed. I slept deeply until Adelaide came in to wake me, bringing with her a cup of tea.

.

Everything faded into insignificance but my life with Lynx. I had started on a voyage of discovery and had found new heights and depths of emotion which I had not known existed. Lynx had drawn me away from everyday existence. I was living on another plane.

I said to him: “You have carried me with you up to Mount Olympus. I feel like a goddess now.”

He loved me, he said, and no one before had ever been loved as I was.

I could believe it. There was no room for anything in my life but the magical presence of Lynx. We rode together; we took meals alone in the library, we even played chess once or twice but he never allowed me to win.

I was gay and lighthearted, and so was he. He was a different man from the one I had first seen in this house; there seemed to be a glow about him—but perhaps that was because I was looking at him through the eyes of love. Once I awoke in the night after a bad dream and for a few moments thought I had lost him. I cried out in fear. And there he was bending over me, his arms about me.

“I thought you’d gone,” I said.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

I heard his laughter in the darkness, exultant, triumphant. I, who had been reluctant to marry him, was now in a cold sweat of terror for a few moments because I had dreamed I had lost him.

The house seemed different. I loved it. I wanted to live in it for ever and make it my home. Adelaide would have made no objections. I could make any changes, have anything I wished, provided it did not clash with Lynx’s desires.

“I will refurnish the drawing-room,” I said.

“I would like yellow curtains—but not too bright a yellow.”

“I know,” said Adelaide, ‘the colour of gold. “

“Not gold,” I cried.

“The colour of sunshine.”

I wouldn’t think about the future. The present offered everything I wanted. Now was the important time—not yesterday, not tomorrow.

“Although,” went on Adelaide, ‘since you are going away, will you want to refurnish? “

“I don’t want to go away, Adelaide.”

“It will be exciting for you.”

“Stirling won’t want to leave everything here.”

“Stirling will want to do as his father wishes.” She was looking at me and gently implying: And so must you.

I thought about it: to leave for England with Lynx and Stirling, to leave this wonderful world which I had just discovered to start on a voyage of discovery. Whiteladies . that girl on the lawn . the older woman. My husband could be a little fanatical with his plotting and planning. I would make him see reason, I promised myself again;

but not yet. I was not going to spoil this honeymoon period with the clash of opinions which must inevitably occur.

I said nothing to Lynx of leaving the country. We laughed;

we bantered; we were serious; we made love in many moods-light-hearted, tender, abandoned and passionate. I would not have believed there could be so many moods.

I was happy, saying: This is now. There has never been such a perfect time. Nothing must spoil it. I must cling to it, make it last for ever.

But nothing lasts for ever.

How tiresome people could be! It seemed that Jessica was deliberately trying to spoil my pleasure in life. When I passed her open door one day she called me into her room and I could not refuse to go although I should have loved to.

She was sitting in front of her mirror trying on my wedding veil.

“Where did you get it?” I asked.

“Ah, you didn’t miss it, did you? I just wanted to try it on.”

She looked incrongruous with her wild eyes and pale skeleton-like face; and she seemed to read my thoughts for she said: “I look like the bride in ” The Mistletoe Bough”. You know the story. She hid in a trunk and was locked in. They found her years later.”

“What a gruesome story!”

“I used to sing that song.”

I thought: Trust you!

“Perhaps it was as well for the bride that she was locked in the trunk.”

“What a thing to say!”

“Slow suffocation, I suppose. But she would soon be overcome by the lack of air. It wouldn’t take long. Better than a lifetime of suffering. I can’t tell you how Maybella suffered

with her miscarriages. “

I turned away. I did not want to think of my husband’s first marriage.

I knew it had been a marriage of convenience for him. I made excuses for him—a proud man, a captive, wrongly accused; marriage was his only means of escape. I was glad that it had been such a marriage. I wanted no one else to have shared this passion which swept me along as though I were caught in a whirlwind.

Jessica took off the orange blossom and veil and underneath was the one with the satin niching. She had been wearing the two.

I said accusingly: “You put that in my room the night before my wedding.”

“Yes, I knew you’d like to have it.”

I thought: She prowls about my room on her own admission. I felt angry with her for prying; and then her helplessness struck me as pitiable and my anger subsided.

She was folding the veils carefully.