I had come blindly up to my room. I had not listened to what she was saying. Words came back to me as I lay there.
“It has settled your future.” I did not care for the future; I was only concerned with the misery of the present. I kept seeing him, remembering his laughing eyes, hearing his booming voice.
“When my ship comes home …”
And the terrible truth was that his ship would never come home. It had foundered on the rocks of death.
He had written to me as he was dying. How like him! The letter had come by way of his solicitors with the news of his death. Miss Emily had withheld it for a few hours to give me, as she said, a little time to recover from the initial shock.
“Don’t grieve for me. We had a happy time together. Don’t let any sadness touch your memories of me, Nora. I’d rather you forgot me altogether than thinking of me should make you sad. It was an accident and it’s finished me, but you’re going to be all right, Nora. My good friend has promised me that. Lynx is a man of his word, and he has given me that word so that I can die happy. He is going to take care of you, Nora, and he’ll do it better than I could. When you read this I’ll be gone, but you’ll not be alone….”
The writing was scarcely legible. The last words were: “Be happy’ and they were only just decipherable. I pictured the pen falling from his hands as he wrote them. To the end all his love and concern had been for me.
I read the letter again and again. I would carry it with me always.
And I lay numbly on my bed, unable to think of what the future held, unable to think of anything but that he had gone.
Miss Emily sent for me. Miss Grainger was with her in the study and with them was a man in black with a white cravat and a very solemn expression. I thought he was my new guardian, but he could never be the man my father had described as Lynx.
“This is Nora Tamasin,” said Miss Emily.
“Nora, this is Mr. Marlin of Marlin Sons and Barlow your father’s solicitors.”
I sat down and listened without taking everything in; I was still numb with misery. But I gathered that everything had been legally arranged and I was to be given into the care of Mr. Charles Herrick, the man whom my father had appointed as my guardian.
“Mr. Herrick naturally wishes to take you into his home and you are to join him there as soon as possible. This is in Australia and your father’s last wish was that you should do this. Mr. Herrick is unable to come to England but a member of his family will come to escort you to your new home. Mr. Herrick is anxious that you should not travel alone.”
I nodded, thinking: My father would have wanted that. He must have asked the Lynx it was difficult to think of him with such a mild name as Mr. Herrick to take great care of me.
It was expected that in a few weeks’ time my guardian’s emissary would arrive in England. I should in the meantime prepare myself to depart.
Mr. Martin took his leave and Miss Emily said that everything was now most satisfactorily settled, by which I knew she meant that outstanding bills had been paid. The next few weeks I could utilize in preparation for my departure. There might be one or two things I needed to buy. I might do this-within reason—and Miss Emily would graciously allow one of the teachers to accompany me to the town and advise me on my purchases. Perhaps I would like to work at my books.
Indeed I might feel that work was the best antidote to sorrow and might wish to continue to act as a pupil teacher for which work—although this had not been mentioned before—I seemed to have an aptitude.
“No, thank you. Miss Emily,” I said.
“I will prepare myself to meet whoever is coming for me and do what shopping I consider necessary.”
Miss Emily bowed her head.
I stayed in my attic quarters. Poor Mary was envious. She only saw that a new and exciting life stretched out before me; she did not realize what grief had led me to it. I shopped. I bought the tartan cape and skirt and strong boots which I thought would be needed where I was going. I had little interest in these purchases, nor in anything. I could think of nothing but the fact that my father was dead.
And at last I was once more summoned to the study.
“You will travel in the company of Miss Herrick, who is I gather your guardian’s daughter—a lady of responsible years. You are to meet her at the Falcon Inn which is some five or six miles from the town of Canterbury. For some reason the lady is there. There is a mention of business which has to be performed. It seems a little inconvenient as I suppose you will be sailing from Gravesend or Tilbury. However, those are the instructions. At Canterbury a fly will be waiting to conduct you to the Falcon Inn. Miss Graeme will accompany you to London and see you safely on to the Canterbury train. You will be all right from there on.”
“Of course. Miss Emily.”
“After Miss Graeme has left you, you must on no account speak to strangers,” said Miss Grainger.
“I certainly should not. Miss Grainger.”
“So there is no difficulty. On Thursday morning at nine o’clock you will leave Danesworth House. The fly will take you to the station. The train leaves at nine-thirty. Cook will pack a sandwich for you. “
“I am sure there is no need for Miss Graeme to accompany me. I could easily change trains when I get to London.”
“That is quite out of the question,” said Miss Emily.
“You would have to get across London by yourself. Unthinkable! Why Canterbury should have been chosen, I can’t imagine. But that is the case; and we have been requested by your guardian through the solicitors that you should be accompanied until you are safely on the Canterbury train.
Therefore it is unthinkable that it could be otherwise. “
So Lynx’s despotic rule could touch even Miss Emily.
I packed my bags; I waited; the girls and mistresses gave roe their respectful interest. I was the sort of person to whom strange things happened. I might have enjoyed my new importance if I could have forgotten my father’s death.
At last the day came and Miss Graeme and I left Danesworth House. We boarded the London train and sat side by side looking out at the green fields and the wheat which was turning to gold. Gold! I thought angrily. If he had never gone to look for gold he would be here now.
My eyes filled with angry tears. Why had he not been con tent to be an ordinary person! But then he would not have been himself. Miss Graeme touched my arm lightly and I saw that there were tears in her eyes.
She started to tell me that sorrow came to us all and we had to ‘bear up’ and go on with our lives. There was ‘someone’ who had ‘never spoken’ but who had intended to and would have done so if he had come home from the war, but he died unnecessarily and cruelly on the battlefield. In the Crimea, I supposed; and so, instead of being a buxom and happy mother, she was a wizened grey-brown mouse of a school teacher.
I listened and tried to show my sympathy; then we ate our sandwiches and in due course arrived at the London station. Flustered and aware of her responsibilities, Miss Graeme hailed a cab and we went to Charing Cross station where finally I was put into the train.
The last I saw of Miss Graeme was her spare figure in the brown coat and skirt and the hat with the brown veil, looking forlorn and wistful as the train carried me away.
Now I began to feel apprehensive. The new life had begun and I was on my own. I could run away now if I liked. I had a little money very little; I could take a post as governess. I had my teacher’s experience. But my father had wanted me to go to the Lynx, so I was given no choice. Suppose I arrived in Australia and hated it. Suppose they did not want me. I knew so little of what lay before me. I had not asked enough questions. I had been submerged by my misery; and now suddenly, here I was, speeding along to Canterbury, looking out at the orchards of apples and pears which would not be ready for picking for almost another two months and then I should be far away. We went past the hop fields which in another month would be alive with the activities of the pickers; cowled tops of oast houses dominated the scene. I wanted to cry to the train driver: Stop. I am rushing towards the unknown. I want a little time to think.