We stayed only a few days. I wrote to my father from London and Lavinia wrote to Lady Harriet. We said we had now returned from Lindenstein and were breaking the journey in London. We should be home within a few days.
Murder in Fiddler's Green
I was further shocked to see the deterioration in my father. He now walked with a stick, but he said he was still capable of carrying on. He had many good workers in the village who were of inestimable help of him.
He wanted to hear about Lindenstein; he believed the Schloss was very ancient, Gothic in fact. And was there any evidence of the Goths in the neighbourhood?
"It must have been fascinating for you, my dear. A great opportunity. You were wise not to miss it."
I parried his questions about the place and told myself I must find a book on it if that were possible, and learn something about it. I upbraided myself for my folly in not trying to do this earlier. But, of course, we had had too much to contend with.
Mrs. Janson said he had been ailing last winter and she dreaded the one to come. She was glad I was home. "You ought to be here," she added significantly. "I was a bit worried when I heard you wasn't coming straight home, but were going gadding about with foreign princesses."
"There was only one princess, Mrs. Janson," I reminded her.
"One's enough. You ought to have come straight home. I don't mind telling you, I'm glad school's done with. How was Polly?"
"Very well."
"I reckon she was glad to see you."
I said she was.
So, I was finished with school now. I was the polished article. What difference it had made to me I was not sure, except that I knew I was no longer the innocent girl who had gone to France.
That night as I lay in my familiar bed I had muddled dreams.
Faces seemed to swim in and out of my mind. The Duchess ... the scientist ... the man with his fires ... all waiting for Death ... and so many of the women for a new life to begin. I pictured Agatha's cheerful grin, Emmeline's wistful looks and Miriam's tortured face. I was aware of Aunt Emily's secret smile as she smiled at me as though she were saying: You'll never escape ... you will be here forever ... cosy ... cosy ...
I awoke crying out, "No, no."
Then I realized I was in my own familiar bed and it was only a dream. I was free.
Lavinia came over the next day.
"Let's ride," she said, and we rode out together, for being finished young ladies we could ride—as long as there were two of us—without a groom in attendance.
She said, "It's the only way I can really feel safe to talk. There are so many people around. I feel they might be listening. My mother is talking about a London season."
"She doesn't guess anything?"
"Of course not. Why should she?"
"My father asks awkward questions about Lindenstein."
"Oh, it's too far away for people to know about. A London season, think of that!"
"Do you want it?"
"Of course I want it. I want to marry a rich man so that I can pay off Aunt Emily. The woman's a shark."
"You didn't think that when you went to her."
"I didn't know it was going to cost so much."
"How long is it going to take you to pay?"
"More than a year ... unless I can get Mama to top up my allowance."
"Why don't you ask Fabian?"
"I couldn't tell him what I wanted it for and he'd want to know."
"Couldn't you tell him it's a secret?"
"You don't understand Fabian. He wants to know everything. That's how he has always been. No. I'll have to pay it out of my own allowance until I find a rich husband."
I looked at her wonderingly that she could talk so. Did she never think of little Fleur? Did she not want to be with her baby sometimes?
I asked her.
"Oh yes," she replied, "but I can't, can I? Those two will look after her. They love her already."
"I shall go down and see them soon. I want to see Fleur, too."
"Oh good! You can let me know how she is."
I marvelled at how rapidly she was regaining her old assurance. The submissive, fearful Lavinia was fast disappearing. She had overcome her misfortune and was, I could see, ready for adventure again.
She could think of little but the coming season. How she would revel in it. She was already regaining her healthy looks; she was even preening herself, certain that she would become the debutante of the season.
I went once or twice to Framling. I saw Lady Harriet, who was gracious in a detached sort of way. I was no longer of importance in her scheme of things. I had served my purpose as Lavinia's steadying companion over the school years and was now relegated to my proper position—the rather plain rector's daughter.
Lavinia's excitement grew. Such plans there were. Lady Harriet was having her schooled in certain accomplishments. She would soon be leaving with Lavinia for their London residence and there Lavinia would be put through her paces, learning how to curtsey, how to dance the new fashionable dances and certain matters of deportment; and of course she must visit the Court dressmakers. She was to be presented at Easter time.
All through the winter I saw little of Lavinia. I had written several letters to Polly and she reported the progress of Fleur. The child was flourishing. There wasn't a baby like her on the common. She and Eff took it in turns to wheel her out; and they had that nice bit of garden at the back where she could be in her pram.
She already knew them, and did she kick up a fuss when she wanted a bit of a cuddle!
I imagined there would be plenty of "bits of cuddle" for Fleur, and I rejoiced, as I had throughout my life, for the good fortune which had brought Polly into my life.
Christmas came—always a busy time for us at the rectory. There were the usual services—midnight mass on Christmas eve, the carol service—and before that the decorating of the church, organized by church workers, but my father had to be present, of course. We had friends from the neighbourhood to dinner on Christmas Day. They were the doctor, his family, and the solicitor and his wife.
There was a good deal of entertaining at Framling. Fabian was home. I saw him once or twice. He would call a greeting and give me that somewhat cryptic smile, which I had come to expect from him.
"Hello, Drusilla," he said. "Finished school now?"
"Yes," I told him.
"Now you are really a grown-up young lady."
What was there to say? He smiled as though it were a great joke that I had grown up.
He did not stay long at Framling. I heard from Mrs. Janson, who had it from the Framling cook, that he would be going to India soon; and that he was in London most of the time, in the offices there, learning about the East India Company, with which the Framling family had been concerned ever since it came into existence.
I wrote to Polly and sent Christmas presents to them, among them a little jacket for Fleur. Polly wrote back, but her letters were full of how the baby was getting on, how she smiled at Polly first, only Eff wouldn't have it, that that was not a smile. It was only a bit of wind, said Eff, determined to be the first to win recognition from the baby. In February, Lavinia and Lady Harriet went to London. The weather was extremely cold and my father caught a chill, which turned to bronchitis. He was quite ill and most of my time was spent nursing him.
A curate came to help out. He was Colin Brady, a fresh-faced, earnest young man who was quickly popular with the household. Mrs. Janson cossetted him and the others followed her lead. He was very much liked in the neighbourhood.