The Shadow of the Lynx (43 page)

There seemed nothing extraordinary about that. It was all so logical—except of course for the fact that Stirling had never mentioned his father’s connection with the house before this.

“I’m sorry about your father,” I said.

“He wouldn’t need pity.”

“But to be wrongly accused.”

“It happened often in those days.”

“You were so fond of him, Stirling.”

“He was my father.”

“You have a certain reverence for him. It’s the same with Nora.”

“If you had known him you would have understood.”

“Poor Nora 1 How she must have suffered when he died!”

He didn’t speak but turned his face away. I feared I had been tactless. He never liked to speak of Nora. I thought it was because he was worried about her future so I said that if ever she wanted to come to Whiteladies she would be very welcome.

“After all, she is like your sister. I know she is, in fact, your stepmother, but that seems ridiculous. She’s so attractive. I always feel unworldly beside her. I wish I were more like her.”

Stirling didn’t say anything; he just stared ahead as though I weren’t there. He’s thinking of his father, I told myself;

and I was glad that he was capable of such deep devotion.

There were so many preparations for the marriage. Maud Mathers was excited by it and envious in the nicest possible way. She immediately began working out how she would

decorate the church.

“I wish it were May instead of Apru, she said.

“It would give us more opportunity with the flowers.”

Lucie supervised the making of my wedding-dress. We had Jenny Callow and her daughter Flora to come in and work on it and make some other clothes for me. It was like old times because when I was a little girl before we became so poor. Jenny used to work full time at Whiteladies.

Flora was a little girl then, learning her trade from her mother. I remember her standing by holding the pins. Then Jenny had to go and people used to get her to do dressmaking for them so that she could make a living.

The only person I could chatter with was Maud. Lucie would have been ideal but I couldn’t bear her silent disapproval. I would have liked to talk to Nora but she kept out of the way. I was disappointed; I thought she was going to be like a sister. Maud wanted to know where we were going for the honeymoon and when I told her that we hadn’t discussed this she was faintly disappointed.

“Venice!” she said.

“Sailing down the Grand Canal in a gondola. Or perhaps Florence. Strolling to the bridge where Dante and Beatrice met. Rome and the Forum and standing on the spot where Julius Caesar was struck down. I always think Italy is the place for honeymoons.”

I was surprised. I had not thought Maud so romantic.

When I mentioned a honeymoon to Stirling he said: “Why should we go away? What could be more fascinating than Whiteladies?”

“You mean stay at home!”

“It’s only just become my home,” said Stirling. There’s nothing I’d like so much as to explore it. Of course if you would like to go away”

But I wanted to do exactly what he wanted. There won’t be a honeymoon yet,” I told Maud. That will come later.”

So the dresses were made and the cake baked; and Father said there was no need to consider the expense of the wedding. I was getting a handsome settlement and because of my marriage Whiteladies would be gradually restored to its old magnificence.

A week before the wedding Lucie came to my room one night for a talk.

There’s just one thing I want to say, Minta,” she told me.

“If you want to change your mind you shouldn’t hesitate.”

“Change my mind! Whatever for?”

2SO

“It’s all been rather hurried and there’s been so much talk about how good this is for Whiteladies. But if you decided not to marry, we’d manage. We’ve managed so far. I don’t want you to feel you have to marry for the sake of the house.”

“I never felt that for one moment, Lucie. I love the hou-” and hate to see it crumbling away, but I wouldn’t marry tor it. It’s just the greatest good fortune that Stirling happens to be rich and loves the house. He’s going to put it all to rights. You’ll be glad. I know you will. You’ve worried a lot about the house. “

“I’ll be glad, of course, but nothing would compensate for your making the wrong marriage.”

“Set your mind at rest. The reason I am marrying Stirling is because I love him.”

That satisfied her. She started to talk about the wedding and hoped Maud would look well in the cerise-coloured silk she had chosen. Maud was to be Maid of Honour. I had hoped Nora would be but she had said it would be absurd for a married woman to take the part and had shown so clearly that she did not wish for it that I hadn’t tried to persuade her. Lucie said it was a pity Druscilla wasn’t old enough to be a bridesmaid and I agreed. We had asked Dr. Hunter to be best man.

There again Franklyn would have been the obvious choice but somehow it seemed wrong to ask him because I knew so many people had expected him to be the bridegroom at my wedding. But, as I said, what did all this matter? The important thing was that I married Stirling.

And so at last came our wedding-day—the happiest day of my life.

After Mr. Mathers had performed the ceremony we went back to Whiteladies and the reception was held in the great hall where the brides of our family had celebrated their marriages through the centuries. On that day Stirling seemed as though he were enraptured.

He loves me, I thought. He couldn’t look like that if he did not.

He stood in the hall with me by the great cake and guided my hand as I cut it, and there was something about him which I can only describe as triumph.

There were the usual speeches—Father’s rather rambling and sentimental; Dr. Hunter’s short and rather witty; Franklyn’s conventional—the sort of speeches that had been made at weddings for the last hundred years. Stirling answered. He was direct. It was a happy day for him, he said. He felt

tie had come home.

Some of the guests stayed on to a dinner-party and afterwards we danced in the hall which made a wonderful ballroom. Stirling and I waltzed round together. He was not a good dancer but I loved him the more because of that.

“You’ll find me lacking in fancy manners,” he told me.

“I know I shall love what I find,” I replied. Then the guests left and we were alone. I was a little afraid of my inadequacy, but Stirling was kind. It was almost as though he were sorry for me and I was enchanted by his unexpected tenderness. Yes, that was the happiest day of my life.

Two

It was a strange honeymoon. On the first day Stirling wanted me to take him on a tour of the house.

“Just the two of us,” he said.

I was delighted and we went round together. He was horrified by the state of things and made a lot of notes. I remember how he probed the oak beams in some of the rooms.

“Worm!” he commented.

“They could collapse at any moment. We’ll have to get to work on them right away.”

“You’re more like an assessor than a husband,” I told him.

This is your house,” he retorted.

“It’s in trust for our children. We have to see that it is kept in order.”

I hadn’t realized how thoroughly neglected the house had been.

“It will need a fortune spent on it, Stirling,” I said.

“There’s no need to do everything at once.”

’
have a fortune,” he said. I laughed because what Lucie called his ostentatious ness amused me. He was rich and proud 1 of being so because his father had made that fortune and everything his father had done was wonderful in his opinion.p>

“And,” he went on, ‘nothing is going to be left. I’m going to see that your house is in perfect order.

“I wish you wouldn’t say your house in that way, Stirling. What I have is yours. You know that.”

Then he smiled in a way which touched me deeply. He kissed me gently and said: “You’re a sweet girl, Minta. I’m sorry that I am as I am.”

I laughed at him and said: “But that’s why I love you.” He put his arms round me and held me against him.

“We’re going to be very happy,” I told him, for it was as though he was the one who needed assurance then.

“Our children will play on the lawns of Whiteladies,” he said solemnly.

“A restored and beautiful Whiteladies which has lost its woodworm and whose bartizans will stand for another thousand years.”

What energy Stirling had and he spent it on the house! Within three months the rot had been arrested and Whiteladies was beginning to be a fine old house again. But he wasn’t satisfied. There was still a good deal to be done. That time was what I called the Whiteladies Summer.

At the beginning of September tragedy struck Wakefield Park. Sir Everard had another stroke and died. It had been expected for we all knew that he couldn’t live long, but it was a shock nevertheless.

Especially for Lady Wakefield. She was lost without her husband;

Franklyn was with her all the time but she fretted and a week after the funeral she took to her bed and for some weeks lay there without any will to leave it. In the middle of October she died and everyone said it was a ‘happy release’.

Poor Franklyn was distressed, but he was not the man to show it. Dr. Hunter told us that he had warned Franklyn of the inevitability of his father’s death and the fact that Lady Wakefield had died so soon afterwards was as she would have wanted it. Dr. Hunter had come to Whiteladies to see Druscilla. Lucie was always calling him. She worried ridiculously about that child. In fact where Druscilla was concerned she was by no means her usual practical self.

“She had no will to live,” said Dr. Hunter.

“I’ve known it happen like that many times. People have been together all their lives. One goes and the other follows immediately.”

Father was upset about losing his dear friends. He insisted on going to the funeral. Lucie was quite cross about it because there was a keen east wind blowing; she declared she would not allow him to go out. Yes, she did fuss us. It was because she had never had a family before and that made us rather precious to her. Father usually gave in but he was adamant on this occasion. He said he was determined to ‘see the last of his old friend’. So he drove to the church and followed the cortege to the graveside and stood there in the wind.

his hat m his hand.

I was sad for Franklyn, knowing how devoted he was to his parents, and was glad Nora was there because I felt that her presence comforted Franklyn. I had known for some time that he admired her. Towards him she showed a certain aloofness but she was friendly in a way. I remarked to Stirling that it would be rather a pleasant solution for Nora if she married Franklyn, for she constantly talked as though she intended to return to Australia.

“They’re completely unsuited to each other,” said Stirling coldly.

“Franklyn!” he added quite contemptuously as though Franklyn wouldn’t make a good husband.

“You don’t know Franklyn,” I defended my old friend.

“He’s one of the kindest people in the world.”

He turned away quite angrily. Nora had married his father, of course, and I supposed the thought of anyone’s supplanting him was distasteful.

Still, I continued to think how pleasant it would be if Franklyn and Nora could marry. I wondered whether the idea was in Franklyn’s mind.

I was sure it was not in Nora’s.

A few days after Lady Wakefield’s funeral Father developed a cold.

Lucie fussed terribly as she always did when he was ill and made him stay in bed. He should never have gone to the funeral, she grumbled.

She sent for Dr. Hunter and kept him with her a long time. When the doctor left the sick room I asked him to come into the library and asked him if my father was really ill or was it just Lucie’s worrying.

“It’s a chill,” he said, ‘but tie’s near to bronchitis. I hope we’ve caught it in time. Perhaps a few days in bed. “

Poor Dr. Hunter 1 He looked very tired himself; and I thought of his going home to that rather dismal little house where his housekeeper might or might not be in a drunken stupor. Why didn’t he marry Maud?

She would look after him.

I insisted on his drinking a glass of sherry before he went out to his brougham; that brought a little colour into his cheeks and he seemed more cheerful.

“I’ll look in this evening,” he promised, ‘just to make sure your father is going along as he should. “

But when he came that evening. Father had bronchitis. In a few days this had turned to pneumonia. I had rarely seen

Lucie so upset and I thought how lucky Father was to have such a devoted wife, for I had believed that for Lucie hers had been a marriage of convenience. I knew she had wanted Whiteladies to be her home for ever and no doubt she had enjoyed being Lady Cardew; but when I saw how upset she was I realized how deeply she eared for my father.

She wouldn’t leave the sick room; she was with him day and night, only snatching an hour or so’s sleep in the next room if I sat with him.

I don’t trust those servants,” she said.

“He might want something.”

“If you don’t rest you’ll be ill yourself,” I scolded.

I sat with him but as soon as he started to cough she was up.

We waited for the crisis; but I knew Dr. Hunter didn’t think there was much hope. Father was old and had been failing in health for some time. Pneumonia was a serious illness, even for the young.

Father wanted Lucie at his bedside all the time and was uneasy if she wasn’t there. I thought how wonderful it was to see their love for each other and I remembered how peevish my mother had always been. I was glad my father had found happiness in the end with a woman like Lucie.

We were both with him when he died but his hand was in Lucie’s. I shall never forget the look on her face when she lifted it to me. It was as though she had lost everything she cared for.

“Lucie darling,” I said, ‘you still have Cilia. “

I led her to Druscilla’s room. It was nine o’clock and the child was asleep. Nevertheless I picked her up and put her into Lucie’s arms.