Bluish-snowy light prevailed. Red-breasted Robin flew to a branch, it looked at the landscape before it, maybe there were seeds? There was a rustle and then a quiet creak, and Robin flew away with the swiftest of wings. Across snowy Rainbow Valley came a figure who leaned against a tree and took several handfuls of seeds from its pockets and threw them in a wide arc into the snow. Soon the air was filled with the beating of birds' wings as robins, warblers, and other non-hibernating birds flocked to the seeds. The figure, smiled sadly, and then turned towards ramshackle looking Manse, without its profusion of leafy greenery to crown it. Warm golden light spillied from wide windows to snow-covered ground, there were few footsteps frozen into the slush.
At the breakfast table Bruce inquired in his anxious way, "I do think that it is a Christian thing to feed the birds in wintertime, Mum and Una-moon?" Una twined her cold hands around teacup, and said, "Don't worry. Birds have had their food, now eat yours. Perhaps in the afternoon we can practice some carols, but only if you have done all of your errands first." Bruce's eyes lit up and between hurried spoonfuls, his porridge plate emptied with great gusto. All kitchen countertops were full of mince pies, and light scent of well steeped tea.
When Bruce had gone off to play, humming softly, snatches of various traditional carols Rosemary said quietly, "My dear, don't let him wear you out too much. I met Anne Blythe only yesterday at Carter Flaggs and she suggested that we spend Christmas Eve at Ingelside, naturally after John's sermon. This autumn has been extremely difficult for us all, and there is comfort in being together."
Una, stroked tea towel between her fingers. Muttering an apology as Rosemary looked on sympathetically Una slipped fleet-footed into the hallway, there was sweet homely scent of lemon verbena polish.
Una leaned against the door of her maiden chamber, and tiredly closed her eyes. Ingelsidean Christmas, without Walter, where his memory glowed in every corner, the thought was almost unberable, but somehow she had to endure that. With one hand she touched haircomb that, after that September day, always adorned her hair. And tiredly, her heart pounding, Una gently caressed locked drawer on the top of her desk with her fingertips. There lived Cecilia's old jewelry box, which contained Walter's letters, and also some written by Alice Parker. Today Una found that she didn't have the strength to look at that much beloved handwriting.
And softly humming, Una took out a piece of writing paper and with a graceful, neat handwriting, she began to write a list of possible Christmas gifts. Ever graceful strains of Ave Maria, they modulated into Yuletide carols, of Maywater times, and then into gently aching Schumann´s Frauenleben und lieben cycle´s first lied, Seit ich ihn gesehen. This lied always reminded Una of her first meeting with Walter, it had happened quite by chance, before Rainbow Valley trout-dinner, just one long sweeping long lashed glance, from Walter´s grey eyes, and Una´s heart was no longer hers, not totally, at the train pier, when Dr. Blythe's merry children returned from their sojourn from Avonlea. And taking a deep breath, Una closed her eyes and sang, with her effortlessly sweepingly high treble.
John Meredith passed Una's room, and lightly he leaned against the doorway. All the little theological concerns and traditional demands of Norman Douglas, and the last letters from Jerry and Carl faded from his consciousness as he silently examined his youngest daughter. How Una reminded him of Cecilia, as she was immersed in her music. She sung like gentle sylark like Cecilia had also done, in her time.
Una had been always so solemn, and more than a bit wistfull, but this autumn that wistfulness had turned into gloom in places. At the bottom of Una's deep gaze now was a shadow that would not subside. Silent of shadow of nameless suffering. It seemed he had failed to protect Una, after all. The cold shadow of war had hurt his child.
Litte bit later, on that same day, in his overflowing study, John Meredith looked at the two photographs on his desk. One was from the Maywater era. Silently John glanced at the face of the happy, flourishing Cecilia. At that time, there was no sign of the suffering to come. Cecilia held a swaddled Carl in her arms, and around her pale blue flowing hems, were other children in a somewhat stiff formation, Faith's curls as ever, ran riot, and Jerry tried to look responsible, and tiny Una radiated delicate, shy happiness. The other was taken a year before the war.
Now Jerry and Carl were in the antechambers of hell. Emotional music floated faintly from the living room - Mozart - with all pastoral grace and glory played by Rosemary´s gentle touch, it was intertwined by Bruce's delighted laughter. Inspired, anew John opened closest of the six books on his desk as he started writing again, and the words and similes just clicked into place, there was sermon to be written for tomorrow.
Still of yet slumbering stillness of Primrose Hollow. Nan opened her eyes, slightly. The clock on her bedside table read half past six in the morning. Nan sighed, stretching and quietly she said "How was the tea at Dorian´s Aunt Dorothys? I hope you didn't just come back?" Somehow charged silence fell, and in the shadows Nan could faintly see the features of her twin.
Finally Di said, "It was an evening, of certain tastes. Utterly sublime tea, and cake, very conventional on the one hand, and not at all on the other. There were people from every walk of life, a few philanthropists, a librarian, suffragettes, and Bluenoses, naturally." "I've always wanted to meet a real surffragette, so maybe next time I might come with you." Nan remarked in teasing manner, but the joke fell flat.
Di, sighed lightly, and said faintly "My thoughts are still a bit scattered. I feel like I've dropped into Wonderland, yesterday. Only thing that was missing was that rabbit." Nan laughed lightly, as she inquired "Well, you had an Alice with you, so maybe rabbits were surplus to requirements." And quietly, Nan heard Di whisper. "Do you ever have that feeling that everything suddenly makes sense?"
Nan furrowed her brows and she said "Di, does this have anything to do with Alice?" But, Di didn't answer. Only a light sigh was heard, and a light rustle of bedcovers, as Di turned away. Nan looked up at the shadowy ceiling, as the clock ticked, and hours passed, to seven, and then eight, and finally nine, as slowly the light began to increase in the room and Primrose Hollow awoke to a new day.
The light scent of toast and malty tea filled the living room of Primrose Hollow. The teacups clattered and the apple and cherry jam smelled faintly. Faith sleepily buttered her own bread. Newspapers of the day were halved, Faith immersed herself into foreing affairs, and Nan into local more Kingsportian news, and Di and Alice both knitted. Over her newspaper Nan noticed, that Alice, whispered something softly in Di's ear, with the result that Di dropped her teaspoon, and half-filled teacup, with a splash on the table. If Alice had been a cat, Nan was sure there would have been a light purr, and maybe some cream on her whiskers. She seemed strangely light, even sparkling on this December morning, it was more than a bit odd, and Di too seemed very joyful, as if all the worries of world, and the war, was not meaningless, but somehow less severe than few days before.
After obligatory Sunday service, Di washed the breakfast dishes and Alice dried them. Di organized haphazard piles of books, and peeked into Alice´s craft basket. She detached her brothers letter from the pincushion, as she slipped Walter's letter into Alice´s pocket with a sad, but luminous smile.
Alice glanced at Di, she sighed lightly, and said haltingly, "This is the last letter from him. I was already a little worried when this one was not in the same place as the others." Di touched Alice's hand lightly, and a soft mournful silence enveloped the two of them. Faith, peering out of the window, exclaimed, "Postman is climbing towards our cottage. Strange, they don't usually deliver letters or anything at the weekend do they?" Nan shook herself out of her stupor, and said "But the papers have been quiet lately, there hasn't been any frontline activity since the end of the Battle of the Somme, which was last month." Alice and Di exchanged pale glances, and Faith fingered the window curtain nervously.
The silence stretched.
And then there was a knock on the door. Faith almost ran to open it. The postman glanced at her, and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Good afternoon. I have one package addressed to Alice Parker, and a letter to Nan Blythe, front post." Faith received the package and Jerry's letter with slightly shaky hands, and then, just as she was about to turn, the postman said, "Wait, I've got a letter here for Faith Meredith, from the front too." An unspeakable wave of relief washed over Faith when she noticed Jem's familiar upright handwriting on the dirty envelope. Faith accepted her letter, and closed the door. Faith leaned against the hall wall. And impatiently, she tore open Jem's letter.
November 1916, somewhere far away.
Faith.
Nobody plays football anymore like they did around this time last year, and year before. We just wait, and wait, and while I wait, I think of you. And in my pocket is your rose, it rests carefully wrapped in paper over my heart. You are my home, and I promise I will come back to you, or if your plans work out, maybe we can meet before. Although I will do my best to stay safe, as if anyone can influence chance or fate, or trench-raids. The front lines have fallen silent, and the blind slaughter has stopped momentarily. While I have been here I have really noticed how precious and tenacious human life is. My vocation to ease my fellow beings suffering is stronger than ever. The Great Destroyer – death – is my greatest enemy, still. In my freetime I sometimes help to patch up some brothers in arms, change dressings, and I´ve done some surgeries in field conditions, when there is time, usually there is not. Death has so many forms here. If you want, you can wear my ring in public and not hide it anymore. I believe in you and in our future together, which we will begin to build when this cursed war is over.
Always yours
JMB
Faith sat down on the floor, and with trembling hands took out the pearl ring on the slight glimmering gold chain. The light shimmered in the row pearls, and Faith carefully tried the ring on her finger. The ring was cold, but it soon warmed up. And at that moment, Faith felt like her hand was whole because Jem's ring was on it. With luminous smile, Faith slipped the ring off her finger, and hid it anew under her collar, over her heart, a warm circle, a small comforting weight rested. With determination, Faith folded Jem's letter into her pocket and strode into back into the living room.
Comforting scent of tea surrounded Faith, and Nan, Di, and Alice, they sat frozen, like the three witches from Hamlet, or the maidens of infinite, wordless suffering, in some old triptych painting, of all old world glamour. A barely muted anxiety flashed in all girls' eyes, hazel, graygreen and violet, as reassuringly Faith said, "No telegrams at all, but there is frontpost. A letter came to Nan, it is from Jerry, and I got one from Jem. Then there's a box for you Alice, maybe something from Dorian again?"
Faith, with a light nod and a sympathetic smile, carefully placed Jerry's letter on the table. Nan grabbed it with eager manner. A silence fell, it was broken only by Nan´s small contented sigh as she read Jerry's letter. She was sitting in her favorite armchair as she girlishly were swinging her legs in striped reddish woolen stockings. And folded up next to her was Jerry's freshly finished Christmas present. It was a warm forest green sweater, and a pale scarf with silk embroidery and decorated with a Celtic lovers knot pattern.
Di and Alice exchanged a small smile as Faith's footsteps sounded on the stairs. Alice looked up from the stocking she was knitting and glanced at the package Faith had placed on the table. Stamps in the package were torn. Faint lines were barely visible, they were like old scabs that broke the surface of the package. Alice felt Di take one gliding step closer. The hems of their skirts entwined against each other for a moment, the familiar comforting smell of lily of the valley perfume surrounding her, as Di said thoughtfully "Do you think that's from Dorian like Faith assumed?" Silently Alice shook her head, as she cut open the thick strips, and soon a bumpy metal box was revealed. Out of the corner of her eye, Di saw Alice collapse to the floor in a swoon, with a swish of dark-skirts.
Di's painful exclamation, broke Nan's concentration. Feeling totally unsettled Nan looked up from Jerry's utterly lovely letter to find Di crouched pale beside Alice´s unmoving form. Di, didn't look up, she just ordered in a steely voice, which had a strangely frenzied tone, almost like barely hidden anxiety. "Nan, are you going to get Faith? Or are you just going to stand there uselessly?" And glancing once in Di's direction, Nan ran upstairs, almost stumbling over the threshold, in her haste to comply.
Finally, blissfully alone, for a moment at least, Di sat next to Alice. Cautiously, glancing at the staircase, she softly, lightly caressed Alice´s forehead. All the color that had been in her face just few moments ago, had drained away until Alice looked like a lifeless procelaine doll, that had been shattered upon sudden impact. And after what seemed like an eternity, which in reality, was only a couple of minutes, Di observed Faith´s cabable hands, as they floated over Alice, as Faith said in her efficient, soothing way. "Nan, will you get cold water, and smelling salts if we have any. And on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, there's brandy, mostly for baking. This seems to be only shock, her pulse is steady."
Nan glanced in Di's direction. Her twin was wringing her hands, after hearing Faith's assessment, some tension seemed to subside, in her and she nodded softly. Nan said quizzically. "Strangely, Alice hasn't passed out before, or at least I don't remember it happening. Do you know Di?" Di just shook her head, her cheeks were pale.
At last Alice's eyelashes trembled and she said in a faint voice. "My dears, take that brandy away, I can't stand it." Soon group of hands supported her until she sat, swaying a little, in another armchair. Next to her elbow was a mug full of hot dark tea. As she sipped it, Alice barely hid her grimace, because someone Alice guessed, Nan had poured a dose of brandy and a little sugar, from their meager sugar rations into it as well.
Nan observed that Di hovered over Alice, as if she looked away, Alice would disappear, like a summer morning mist. After few moments, Alice opened her eyes, and glanced calmly at them, each in turn, in weighing manner. Then she said, in a slow jagged voice." Di, will you help me to my room, now please. " Both Nan and Faith watched avidly as Di held out her arm to Alice, who was leaning on it more heavily than usual.
A couple of days passed, in a swirl of activity, as the end of Redmond term was looming in the horizon. Holly and ivy and mistletoe were abound in almost every corner of the campus area. Christmas decorations began to be hung in windows and business premises. The Red Cross enthusiastically made Christmas collections for soliders.
Alice often vanished with Di to somewhere, after lectures and when they got back to Primrose Hollow they didn't have tea, but instead sat together in the pianonook as Di played something sparkling, and elaborate, from yellow folder. Nan heard her muttering under her breath"The dead shall live, the living die/And music shall untune the sky." Sometimes Alice looked smilingly in Di's direction. There was a sad smile flickering on her pale lips.
Nan and Faith speculated fiercely among themselves about the contents of the mysterious box. There seemed to be nothing of note in it. Only a very stained red-covered book, which appeared to be a collection of poems by Emily Brontë, that someone had underlined quite a number of brilliat poems, with a pencil, but if there had been a name on the cover or the flyleaf, it had been worn away. A pair of very filthy scarves, their color was impossible to say, and a letter written in a strange handwriting. Nothing else. No pictures, or photographs, or hair-ribbons, or preserved flowers, no additonal information at all. It was total mystery. Nan, despite Alice's protests, had washed and aired the scarves in the box, and they had turned to be a pair of thin silk scarves, their colors dark blue and deep green.
Di hadn't said anything. Nan had interpreted her twin's silence as her particular way to brood which had always annoyed Nan beyond measure, but it didn't seem to have any effect on Alice.
Then week or so, after that box had arrived, and caused such disturbance, in Primrose Hollow´s inner harmony, Alice came in the living room and she said in a voice that was as cool as the ice shards of the pond, that crumbles suddenly underfoot. "I know you've all been very curious about that metalbox. However, I can only say this one thing, so please listen carefully, as I do not know much. Apparently, a close a friend of a friend did fall in the final attack on the Somme. This person had arranged for some of his things to be sent to me. And here they are."
Alice´s slim hands softly caressed that tattered book of poems, and a deep, cutting pain seemed to glow through her whole being. As if some deep pain of loss had been re-opened. Almost as if Alice had received a message from other side, of veil, but that's complete nonsense, Nan pondered.
One evening after final lectures of the autum term, Nan had noticed Di reading to Alice in a low voice in French, some leather-backed book in the pianonook. Random muttered phrases floated to Nan's ears,"Je sortis sous la pluie crépusculaire, et je m'enivrai mortellement de la merveilleuse tristesse des soirs de bruine. Je portais au cœur une mélancolie fébrile." but the book in question was always out of sight when Nan wanted to glance at it. Curious thing, as it had not been Di´ s way before to conseal any books from her gaze from before.
Flickering light reflected on the mirror behind the oil lamp, and on the oval mirror on Alice's dressing table. Di glanced at Alice out of the corner of her eye. Di was weighing her words carefully. "I know you don't want to discuss that box, it's clearly something important. You've been reading Walter's letters almost non-stop since you got it. Does that box have anything to do with my brother?"
The only reply was silence. Alice moved haircomb on her dressing table with a restrained irritation. Gracefully Alice rose, and locked the door, and carefully lowered the flame of the oil lamp until it was but a bluish smudge. Long shadows invaded the room, as wardrobe door creaked. Di watched with pleasure at the sight before her. Alice rested like goldenhaired Madame Recamier, and that soft, thin barley there silk, pooled around her, like blue gray dreamy cloud, in most becoming manner, evocatively lush. Di remembered how that silk had molded to the curves of Alice's warm body. She been half-curiously waiting for a searing wave of shame and self-loathing to hit, as this slight thing, between them, now was salacious and bawdy in the extreme, in the Glen way of things, but it hadn't, instead she'd felt only a piercing elation, as she noted that Alice, did indeed had shuddered at her slightest touch, then and now.
The light, scent of lily of the valley perfume, and the soft, cool hands that gently touched, as they wiped away the tears that fell. There was a comfort to know they weren't alone Alice mused, in a faint way, as an almost bittersweet intoxication slowly crept into every fiber of her being.
Alone in the hallway Nan heard Di's half-suppressed laughter, as she happened to walk past Alice's room. It was little past midnight. In their room, Nan looked at piles of books, which she had gathered from the shelves of various libraries in Redmond in recent weeks. Maybe it was sour grapes, but Nan had never quite understood first Walter's and now Di's infatuation with Alice. On Di´s table she found a familiar leather-bound book, the cover of which read; Une Femme m´apparut and feeling very curious Nan opened it and started to read, "Viens ce soir... Je suis avide d'étoiles.."
A/N Schumann's Frauenleben und lieben op 42 is an extremely beautiful romantic and tragic song series, about a woman's life and experiences. "The dead shall live, the living die/And music shall untune the sky." is a quote from Händel's cantata Ode for Saint Cecilias´s Day (1739) "Je sortis sous la pluie crépusculaire, et je m'enivrai mortellement de la merveilleuse tristesse des soirs de bruine. Je portais au cœur une mélancolie fébrile." is a quote from Renee Vivien's roman a clef Une Femme m'appareil (1904) As is the phrase, "Viens ce soir… Je suis avide d'étoiles." Translations from french can be translated as follows: "I went out into the twilight rain, and I was mortally intoxicated with the marvelous sadness of drizzly evenings. I carried a feverish melancholy in my heart." /"Come tonight...I'm hungry for stars."