I laughed at her, but after she had gone I began to think of the implication of what she had said.
Was it true my family was eager for me to marry Robert? I knew they would welcome it, because they were fond of him. And Robert? He had been very tender and a little cryptic…if one could imagine his ever being so. He had intimated that if I were older he might propose marriage to me.
The thought gave me a pleasurable, comfortable feeling.
Perhaps I was flattered. I liked Robert very much. On the other hand, images of Marcus Merrivale kept intruding…I remembered him on the road to the border between France and Belgium…traveling to Calais between France and Belgium…traveling to Calais…and later in our own drawing room.
I was rather excited because Annabelinda clearly saw me as a rival.
Christmas had come: a Christmas of curtailed activities. There was a war on and people remembered that earlier it had been said it would be over by Christmas; and here was Christmas and the war was still with us.
The easy victory was not to be. Some of the wounded were being brought back across the Channel, and still it went on.
From the first, my mother had been deeply involved in charities. Now she saw an opportunity to do more.
It was in April of the following year that she had the idea of turning Marchlands into a hospital for wounded soldiers.
Marchlands was convenient. It was not too far from the coast or from London. It was in a good situation, surrounded by forest, and the pure air would make it ideal for convalescence. The house was large and suited to the project.
There was a great deal of excitement; my mother was completely absorbed. My father, of course, would have to stay in London during the week, but he could come down for weekends. The household would be moved down there. Two doctors would be employed with several nurses. Miss Carruthers and I could be of use. We were not trained, of course, but there were lots of jobs to be done in a hospital which did not demand that skill. We were all caught up in it. There were journeys to and from Marchlands. Everything seemed to have been overshadowed by the plan—even the war.
It was in May when Marcus came again. He was with Uncle Gerald and they were both preparing to leave for Gallipoli in a few days’ time, although the week before they had just come back from France.
It was a lively meal we had, with Uncle Gerald and Marcus talking most of the time about military matters. Uncle Gerald had always been like that, my mother had told me once. He loved fighting battles on the tablecloth with the pepper pot representing some fortress and the salt for the guns. He would pick up some dish to stand for the opposing forces.
My father listened intently. He was very preoccupied these days. There was anxiety in high places. The war was not proving as easy to win as some had calculated.
“The whole operation is to relieve the Russians,” Uncle Gerald was saying. “That’s why we are coming to grips with the Turks on the Dardanelles.”
“Fisher doesn’t approve,” said my father. “And you know he is in charge.”
“That’s bad,” said Uncle Gerald. “The First Sea Lord creating the wrong impression.”
“Churchill’s opinion is that a combined military and naval operation could knock Turkey out of the war.”
“That’s what we’re aiming to do.”
“This will be a little different from France,” said Marcus. “We’re getting tired of trench warfare.”
“An awful way to go to war,” agreed Uncle Gerald. “Living like troglodytes almost. Dodging the enemy instead of going out to fight him.”
Afterward I had a few words with Marcus in the drawing room.
“When are you leaving?” I asked.
“Any moment. When the call comes. One is never absolutely sure.”
“How uncertain everything is in wartime!”
“I believe, dear Lucinda, that it can even be so in peacetime.”
“Do you think it will soon be over?”
“One becomes a little wary of prophecy. Only one thing is certain. We are all growing older every day.”
“You speak as though that is something to be pleased about. Lots of people hate getting old.”
“That depends where you stand in life. Perverse, is it not? Some would do anything to hold back the years; others would like to advance them.”
“Into which category do you fall?”
“I should like you to rush on a few years while I stayed where I am.”
It was the second time the question of my youth had arisen—first with Robert, now with Marcus. It must be significant.
I could not resist saying, “Whatever for?”
“Because there are things I should like to say to you and I cannot say them now.”
“I might like to hear them.”
“Don’t tempt me, dear little Lucinda. Just grow up, please. You are sixteen years old, or you will be this year.”
“Not until September.”
“I shall remember that. This time next year you will be all but seventeen, and being a very clever young lady, I am sure you will have the wisdom of a seventeen-year-old before you reach that age.”
“You seem to think seventeen is a significant age.”
“Oh, yes, it is. It is when a maiden is on the brink of womanhood.”
“It sounds very poetic.”
“You bring out the poet in me. In fact, such is your influence that you bring out the good in me. So we must see each other as often as possible, so that good may prevail.”
“How? When you will be away?”
“We will think about each other every day. And at the first opportunity I will come to see whether you have kept your promise to grow up quickly.”
“Did I make such a promise? And in any case I cannot do so if you persist in treating me like a child.”
He looked at me intently and said, “Forgive me. If we were anywhere else but in your parents’ drawing room, I should be tempted to forget your age.”
There was no mistaking his meaning. I thought of Annabelinda. This was what she feared. The thought excited me.
Two days later he left for Gallipoli.
I thought about him a great deal. Was he really telling me he cared for me? Or was that lighthearted caressing manner the one he bestowed on all females? I was a little bemused, but I had to confess that I was attracted by him. Annabelinda had shown a certain perception. I wondered what she would say if she had heard our conversation.
I followed the campaign in Gallipoli. It seemed very far away and particularly dangerous. If only it could all be over! What would happen then?
We should soon be leaving for Marchlands. The hospital was almost ready. Miss Carruthers was very enthusiastic about it. There would be no curtailment of lessons, she said, but it would be illuminating for us to learn something of the procedure in hospitals and at the same time gratifying to contribute to the war effort. Andrée agreed with her and hoped that Edward would spare her for the occasional hour.
I was thinking a great deal about Marcus, wondering when I should see him again and whether he would continue in the same strain of flirtatious innuendo. I had to admit I found it all exciting. He was a most attractive man—in fact, the most attractive I had ever met. And that was not just in my eyes; most people would agree with me. That he had noticed me was very gratifying.
I tried to get all the information I could about the campaign in the Dardanelles, and I was very anxious when I heard that all was not going well.
But what did go well in this war? There was bad news from across the Channel. It seemed as though the end was by no means in sight.
I tried to catch some of my mother’s enthusiasm for the hospital project and to stop my thoughts from continually straying to Marcus.