CHAPTER - 2
Emily received Ilse's letter the next day. She had
yet to write to her best friend since Teddy's return - for once, her gift for
words failed her. Or rather, her courage failed her. She would admit this to
none but her Jimmy-book. It was a great relief to find that she would not be
required to break the ice.
"So,
it was you was it ?" began the letter abruptly, "Though I always had
a sneaking suspicion about it, it never became full fledged simply because I
had a faith in friendship - your friendship. You have betrayed this to the
full. It .. why, I cant even think about it without a shout of rage. There I
was - pouring my heart all out to you, and you sit there listening to me like
the prim, hard, cold lady that you are, never bothering to bring me into your
confidence. Yes, this certainly has been an eye-opener to me on the etiquette
of friendship." So continued the letter, filled with complaints, bursts of
anger and rage.
Emily
knew she deserved it all - and also that a reply was required to the letter.
But whatever could she write ? She could certainly not justify herself - least
of all to Ilse. The memories of the last few months - and years - came floating
through as a bad dream. Had they been real ? Had such a time actually passed by
her never to return ? But then, the time was not completely miserable. No
indeed. There had been her books - her lovely tales which kept her company
through her white nights. In this moment of her happiness, there was no
question of her displeasing Ilse. Which is why Miss Starr spent the evening
writing, reading and rewriting the long letter to Ilse. She posted off the
letter before there could be any further thoughts about it. Further rereads
would only serve to delay and ultimately hold back the letter completely.
*
"It's
the most romantic thing in the world." sighed Aunt Laura, as she continued
to stare out of the window.
"Foolhardy
I call it. I thought her to have to have more sense than pride." retorted
Aunt Elizabeth
"Aye,
always told you. That one is really deep." reasserted Aunt Ruth.
"Hrmph..I
heard someone telling someone last week that Emily has blossomed as does a rose
in spring."
"Oh"
Ruth looking startled, "Whoever told you that ?"
"I
have got my own .. methods" a shadow of smile at the corner of her lips
was ruthlessly suppressed by Aunt Elizabeth.
"I
am sure that if Jim Baxter told you that I had told that to him, then you
should know better, Elizabeth, than to go around believing the words of ..
Baxters!!'
"Did
I say that it was Baxter who told me ?"
"You
didn't. But who else can it be ? Never can be trusted, the Baxters."
"Don't
you worry. I shall never trust any of the Baxters, Ruth."
"Then
you don't believe that I said it ?"
"Did
you now ? Did I say that it was you who said it ?" this time the eyes
twinkled amiably and Aunt Ruth knew she was fighting a losing battle and that
there was no escape but complete surrender. No one could spare words with
Elizabeth and come out the better.
"All
right. Yes, I did say it. She has turned out well. And it's a marvel that she
is settling down well too. Never seen such a one like her. Thought she was to
be one of us. A spinster all her life, when she could have had her pick. Its
about time anyway for her to settle down. And what are you going to do about
this house, Elizabeth ?"
"I
have not given it too much thought as yet." In this, Aunt Elizabeth was
not exactly honest. For, she had spent much of her time pondering over this.
Whatever words she may see safe to use to the world, to herself she was
perfectly clear that she loved Emily as much as she could love anyone. And
seeing in Emily the same attachment to new Moon which she herself ha possessed
at a similar age, desired greatly that the house pass on to her. But the Murray
tradition was very clear on that. The New Moon house passed down to the males of the family and Uncle
Edward's son, Anthony who had once been an Emily suitor himself, was next in
line for that. She must have a word with Edward sooner rather than later.
*
Later
that day, Aunt Elizabeth ordained that the wedding take place not later than
August the end - "That girl might yet change her mind", she said.
This was not at all disagreeable to Teddy - "better sooner than
later" was his worldly wisdom. But for all her willingness and pleasure,
there was something which nagged Emily's heart.
"Isn't
it a bit too soon ?" she asked Teddy as they walked that evening through
the Rose Valley.
Teddy
looked at her searchingly for a moment, then with a sudden look of hardness
said, "Emily - if you do have .. any .. any sort of .. well,
reservations.. about this - well, do
tell me now. I don't want to know
about it .. at the altar. Please don't make me go through that sort of .. thing
again."
Emily
grasped him by the arm tightly -"Teddy..". He looked at her, her eyes
- the tears just about being held back. One who has experienced the eloquence
of silence need hardly be told the thousands of words that are spoken, or
rather exchanged, in the few seconds by the eyes. Pens can do no justice to
them. Suffice to say that at the end of those very few seconds, Teddy had been
rid of the sudden dread that had crept into his hear, and Emily was ..
satisfied. He put his arm around her, she hid her face under his and thus they
stood for a few moments, enveloped in the timelessness that surrounds such
beautiful moments of our lives.
She
was not sure herself as to this desire for a delay in the wedding. What was
there to stop her ? And she had no doubt that she wanted to be with Teddy
forever - then why this apprehension ? It was when she had pondered over it through that night that it came to
her that the desire germinated from a dread of leaving Blair Water - leaving
New Moon, a place where she knew herself, where she could identify herself. She
was familiar with every star that peeked out every night at her from the sky,
with every tree that caressed her as she sat under them, the wind which blew
across the land whispering to her the magic of lands beyond. Separation from
such good friends was painful. And bound for a place where quebec heaters
replaced fireplaces, where automobiles blared the air such that the wind was
inaudible. Yes, she did dread it.
But
Emily Starr was a strong creature - and proud too. She had faced heavier odds
than this. There would be Teddy with her, and remember, she had borne two years
with Aunt Ruth.
"Every
moment in life is an experience." she wrote in her diary that night,
"Take every experience you can. It only adds to what you can write. Though
there is a part of me which dreads seperation from New Moon, there is another
me, the me on the Alpine Path, who is as excited as a child about the
experience ahead. What mysteries lie beyond ? Isnt time like a great Conductor
? A conductor of dreams. You never know what the next note would be. It is an
eternal mystery. And that is just what makes life such an adventure - and a
thrill. There are other worlds to which I must dart - a little of the other
worlds never hurts. New Moon is always there for me…"
*
June 29, 19-
"It was dusk again which has provided me with a
writing flash today. As Teddy and I walked through the Rose Valley (a lovely
patch of land a few yards down the Disappointed House - a name which we are yet
to change. I had not seen this previously -shows what a lot there is discover
in your own land. It's a place where beauty dances all day - the most beautiful
roses grow there. I wonder who planted it. Aunt Elizabeth doesn't know. ) and
we were chatting about our antics of childhood, filled with long sighs and
nostalgic stares into the setting sun. It struck me all of a sudden how I had
always wanted to grow up fast when I was younger - and now, here we were
yearning for the freedom and no-care of childhood. Isn't it a sort of paradox ?
We are born, then when we spend the next twenty years or so waiting to grow,
waiting to be older, then you start realizing that the childhood was not such a
bad time after all - but time is irreversible. What would happen if things went
in reverse ? How would it be if we remained children at heart ? What would the
world be like ? The Rose Valley and this thought made the whole world seem rosy - and then, I got the flash - and
I had the tale all ready.
I just had to get back to my desk - to my pen and paper. A
hurried farewell was bidden to teddy, who beseeched me not to write myself out.
And here I am - its dark now - and my story is all planned out. Its going to
toil and toil for the next few days - but when you know where you are, and
clearly see what you think, then there is no toil in writing out. Its just as
easy as writing this page in the journal."
*
Emily was lost to the world for the next few weeks - she
knew not nor was concerned about time. The outer world seemed to not exist for
now. She had retired into the world she had seen for now. She filled pages and
pages describing the world and its occupants, curious characters flowed in and
out of the world. Some stayed long - some short - yet, they all lived.
Marriage was all forgotten for now. Teddy had dissuaded
her aunts from disturbing her for now. Aunt Laura carried her food up to her
room every day - a practice which received much condemnation from Aunt
Elizabeth initially, who ordered that "the lady make her down to hr suppers".
But when she found that this had no impact on the young lady, she reluctantly
allowed Laura to continue the transportation of food upstairs. And when Teddy
refused to obey her and take Emily out for a walk or something, she was much
incensed. "That boy and Emily - heaven knows what sort of life that are
going to lead together", she declared with a stern shake of her head.
It was almost four weeks later that Emily put the final
full stop on her tale with a log sigh,. A sigh of immense satisfaction. Ah, the
joy of writing - and writing precisely what you think. She collected her
manuscript, tied them securely, and sat with her head on her folded arms on the
table. The joy of having written something you feel to be good, and knowing it
to be so is known to the lucky author only. What a joy it is - knowing that
every word that every word that has gone into the tale is what you have felt,
and precisely what should be there. No amount of rewards or money can match
such a feeling of fulfillment and as Emily sat so, she felt such a feeling run
through her. When it so happens that your pen is directed by the words of
others, when such a compromise is met, the writing becomes a compromise too.
And the author becomes a "populist" rather than a "writer".
There is a difference and a thin line that divides the two.
It had been a good two weeks and more since she had seen
Teddy - and it was some tension that she awaited his call from the Lofty John bushes that evening. There
was a certain dread which refused to be quelled by her staunch denials - would
Teddy take this writing of hers hard ? Somehow, she could not forget Dean all
that easily. For him, she would have had to make a choice between him and her
writing. Would Teddy demand such a sacrifice too ?
"He certainly wouldn't , Emily-in-the-glass" she
told her reflection in the mirror, which had been one of her confidants all
these years, "he understands me perfectly. He knows what writing means to
me - and he is an artist too. He certainly would not demand such a break."
Emily-in-the-glass smiled crookedly at her,"Oh. How
are you so sure ? Yes, Teddy is an artist - but would he expect you to spend
your time at your study or looking after his supper ? My dear lady, the climb
on the Alpine Path is not as simple as you think it to be. Teddy may tolerate
it - but do not expect his support. No husband likes to be a second to anything
in his wife's life. But wives need not expect them to be of prime importance to
their husbands. Such is the way of this world - however much you may dislike,
you need to live here. Ah Emily, there is his call. I wish you all happiness
dearie. But.."
With this rather pessimistic conscience did Emily step
down to make her way to meet Teddy, whose familiar whistle sounded for the
second time across the wind.
He met her with a smile, which rather faded when he saw
her rather tense pallor. HE stepped
forward and took her arms in his - and with his voice as low as a whisper asked
her, "Why Emily ? What's wrong ?"
She could find no words ready at hand to reply - she
looked at the setting sun. The sky was again that darkening red - the magic had
hardly an effect on her right now. But she knew that she had to rest her mind
on this - she could not live knowing that he disliked her writing - and saw in
it a means of her staying away from him. She could not live with that -
"Teddy", she said firmly.
"Yes ?"
"Teddy - do..do you .. would you prefer me not to
write ?" there it was out. She had removed a load from her heart - and it
was with bated breath that she awaited his reply, with her eyes still on the
faraway sun.
Silence prolonged - for an eternity it seemed to her.
"Emily" he whispered to her softly. She kept her
eyes on the horizon - no, she could not have him look at her now. She knew she
would have tears run out again. Why did he have this effect on her ? Elsewhere
and at a later time alone, she knew she would be ashamed of her weakness. But
with him..
"Please look at me, Emily."
She did - and looked into his eyes which had the same look
which always made her heart beat faster.
"I love you as you are, Emily" said he,
positively whispering "I wouldn't want you to kill a part of you - for,
that kills a part of me too. I know writing forms as much a part of your life
as painting is mine - and Emily, I would rather you killed me than asking me to
leave my art.", and taking her arms in his, with a smile "We aren't
going to be an ordinary couple. We are going to be seekers of our dreams,
Emily. We have our own dreams to chase. Only now, we have each other on the
path to our dreams."
Thus it was that Teddy let her know that a union with him
would not mean a divorce from her art
- and she knew she was the happiest lady in whole wide world.
*
It was three days later, as she was
making her final review of her "Time stands still" manuscript when
she heard heavy steps on the stairs leading to her room, and before she could
turn around, the door was slammed open and in walked Miss Ilse Burnley.
Now, those who are familiar with this rather formidable lady
already are aware that she was one to be reckoned with. And those who are
unfamiliar with her may take it from me that she was indeed so. There was
little of the artistic softness in her - no Sir, she was made of the stern
Burnley stuff. Her friendship with Emily, dating as it does from the earliest
days of Emily at New Moon, had seemingly not softened her coarser nature.
Emily's aunts could never be completely convinced that she was just the right
company for Emily. But she was tolerable - at least, she was a Burley, not one
of the Stove Pipes. Indeed, one
of Ilse's favourite pastimes during
their oh-oh-childhood had been to get into loud quarrels with Emily, shrieking
every word she could think of and finally walk away hand in hand, laughing over
what she had said. It had taken very little time for Emily to realize that
there was no real hardness in Ilse, and she learnt to become deaf and mute when
her friend moved into such a frame of mind. Yes, she was a typical hard woman –
with all the softness of womanhood. But such a softness was the last thing that
would strike the viewer if he beheld her now standing glowering in the doorway.
She was tastefully attired – her black hair flowed over shoulders, the smart
hat placed neatly on her head gave her an added appeal.
"Why I-Ilse" said Emily at last.
"Don't you Why-Ilse me, Madam."
Emily, though feeling acutely uneasy,
could not help feeling a gurgle of laughter run up her throat. Ilse strongly
reminded her of an illustration she had seen of Snow White's cruel step mother
as she stood before her magic mirror. She quelled her desire for laughter
firmly, but pushing forward the armchair beside her, said in a rather shaky
voice "Now why don't you just seat yourself here – and we can have a long, cozy
chat."
"Long cozy chat !!!" shrieked Ilse,
taking the offered seat nevertheless. "Emily Starr, I have come here to war and
you had better give me your ears and listen."
This to Emily was as good as it could
get. All their fights over the years had followed this very pattern. And as
Ilse proceeded to unburden her heart with the most scathing comments, Emily sat
looking ta her friend – and wondering how little time had touched Ilse as a
person. She was more or less the same Ilse she had first met years earlier. The
same impulsive manner of speech, the same warmth – or lack of it . She pondered
deeper on this.
"I believe that I am the only person
who has changed a lot since those carefree days of youth." She wrote in her
diary that night, "Of course, I think
Teddy has changed too – but not as much as me. He's certainly a lot quieter, doesn't laugh as much as he
used to – nor as loud. The same applies to me too – only when I seat myself on
my table, and ride into my dream world do I identify with the Me of some years
earlier. Time has wrought changes in me- but not striking to the others. For, I
have never been an Ilse-like free going creature. I have never been a laugher –
always a smiler. I cannot pinpoint exactly where I have changed – but I have
changed."
Her reverie was broken by the jerk which
Ilse gave her hand as she asked, "Emily Starr, are you listening to me ?"
"Have I ever ?" was the infuriating
replay.
"Emily, if you aren't the …"
"Now, now Ilse. Don't start all over
again. You are write in every word you say -= I am vain, proud, undeserving of
a friend like you – whatever you say.."
"Hmph..depend on you to take all the
fun out of fun."
Emily laughed gaily and said," Well at
least there, I have not changed at all."
"Oh Emily" cried Ilse as she hugged
her friend, "just imagine – what if I had gone off and married him ! – never
known about it. Good Lord, I can not bring myself to think of it. You have been
the most foolhardy thing I have ever known. Why, if Perry hadn't met with that
accident.."
"I am eternally indebted to Perry for
meeting with that accident when he did." Laughed Emily, "I mustn't laugh. Poor
Perry ! How is he now Ilse ?"
"He has no choice but to improve when
someone like me is around to nurse him. Dr says that he would be up pretty soon
– sooner than he ever dreamed. Now, where is your.."
A familiar whistle from Lofty John's
bushes broke her sentence. Ilse glared at the window, "So that's him is it ?
Never played me such a tune all his life. Now you just sit back here Emily
Starr" pushing back her companion who had made to get up, "Let the boy make his
way here. "
I am sure that you dear readers would
hardly forget the last time Emily had not responded to that whistle – the only
time in fact. The pain she had endured that night. She was not as tense now –
and as the second play of whistle died down, she waited for him to come up. She
heard the knock on the door, there – that was Teddy talking to Aunt Laura.
Steps sounded on the stairway. Ilse scurried away and hid herself behind the
door, placing a finger on her lips looked warningly at Emily. The door was
open, and a polite knock was heard after which the door opened a bit further –
"Ah Madam" said the speaker – and got no further. The next moment, to his great
bewilderment, a strong pair of hands got hold of his coat by the front and
dragged him in.
"Wha…" he chanced to say – and was
silenced when he met the cold eyes of Ilse Burlney. Eyes which held enormous
fury – which burnt itself out to convey complete numbness and shock a moment
later.
Now, you would hardly need to be told
that the poor gent, on whom this atrocity was committed, was not Mr. Frederick
Kent at all. He was a short man – with very pleasant eyes, eyes which seemed to
be filled with laughter. He was clean shaved, dark haired and his attire was to
suggest a rather comfortable if not affluent living.
To say that Ilse was shocked would be
rather an understatement – and to say that Emily was laughing would be one too.
She was close to hysterics – and she could hardly stop herself from laughing.
The victim darted bewildered looks from one female to the other, and much
resembled a rabbit caught in a trap. Into this rather reprehensible scene
enters the intended victim. Teddy Kent walked in saying, "Now hasn't it been
long since I have heard you laugh so.." and stopped as he saw Ilse Burnley
still having the lapels of the coat of his friend in her arms.
"Why Ilse. What.. have you been upto
some mischief, old pal ?" he asked of the victim. A mumble and little more
escaped the poor victim's lips.
With a jerk, Ilse came back to earth –
and left the coat at last. The gentleman made a quick study of his coat to
ensure that no irreparable damage had been done to it. In spruts of laughter,
Emily conveyed what had happened.
"Oh Sir, we are so sorry. You see –
what you received was to be Teddy's
share. Please believe me – we.." and finding herself on the brink of another
burst of laughter, covered her mouth in her arms again. Ilse continued, "We are
so sorry Sir. This gent here was meant to get what you got. I … oh dear – I am
really … so – so sorry Sir. I do hope you would realize…why Emily" she glared
at her laughing companion, "why cant you give me help ?"
"Ah Madam", said the gent with a smile
and a twinkle in his eye, "Please do not apologize further. It was my pleasure
– it is not everyday that I have my coat pulled so." Upon which he laughed, and
Ilse looked most shocked. And before she started her apologies again, she was
stopped. "I well understand Madam. You may perhaps not remember me. But as Teddy
seems not to have any sense to introduce me .."
"Indeed not, James" said Teddy, who
had seated beside Emily and was extracting with enormous difficulty the events
leading upto the scene he had stepped into, "Ladies – if you could just calm
yourself, Emily. Yes, that's better. Ladies, may I introduce a wonderful
specimen of friendship and humanity, my very dear friend Mr James Mathew.
James, meet my.. well, meet Miss Starr" upon which James bowed most graciously
to her, "and your terroriser is Miss Burnley. "
"Ah – we stand in little need of
further introductions, Frederick." Seeing another apology on its way, James
said, "Oh please Madam – knowing Frederick, I well know that he deserves
whatever you did – and more. Now as I have seemingly received what you did –
you must ensure that you administer the more
appropriately" and guffawed again. The air became light – and he seemed an old
friend. Within a few minutes, he was much on easy terms with both ladies and
suggested a walk up the lovely hill he had seen when making his way to the
house. There was no opposition to this – and the company made their out into the
warm outside for their walk.