January had arrived, and Redmond campus, began to quietly hum, again like an anthill. And the leafless trees in the parks were, like black charcoal drawings, against dark sky. Primrose Hollow awoke from its hibernation. Christmas cards and packages were put away, and kitchen shifts were argued over. And only a few days passed as lingering full-bodied scent of spice cake flooded from the kitchen, it flooded every corner, and mingled with the dried Christmas hyacinths.
With renewed enthusiasm, Nan sat in living room and wrote checklists, and Faith, who sat next to her, outlined her schedule, because she firmly intended to graduate this spring. Frustrated, Faith grimaced at her study book, which listed all her courses, and in a fit of temper, she tossed torn, and crumpled paper in a high arc into the fireplace. Sparkling piano music didn't shimmer, and frowning, Faith glanced in Nani's direction and inquired, "is Di perhaps buried in libraries or maybe she is in Perennial's office, as she's not here." Nan looked up, and said in a vague distrancted voice, "Di went somewhere a couple of hours ago, she didn't say where, but she had a package wrapped in paper with her. So maybe she's taking a belated Christmas present to someone."
Slowly day wore onwards, as grayness of January deepened into an inky blackness. Teapot whistled in the kitchen, and humming Nan cut slices of cake as Faith practiced with doing sutures, in pink cheesecloth. The row of black stitches that crisscrossed the fabric were macabre in Nan´s opinion.
Faith glowed with intene satisfaction, as she declaired happily "It would be best if our food budget would allow me to train with pork skin or chicken, but I'll do what I can." So you're still going to apply for VAD service in the spring, Nan inquired with an amused glint in her dark eyes.
Faith glanced at Nan and said calmly, "You've known me for years and you know that I always do what I decide. I can be a little reckless at times, and careless, but never in world-changing decisions or matters. Di has also expressed interest, in VAD-work, so I gave her some of my flyers." Nan flinched as if Faith's careless words had been a pin that suddenly stung and with difficulty Nan managed to say "She hasn't mentioned it."
"Well, don't worry Nan, Di will surely tell you sooner or later, just remember to look surprised when you hear. Do you think Di will get permission from Ingelside?" Nan bit her lip, as she thought of the shadowy, painfully brave look in Mumsy's eyes as she stood with Susan and Rilla at Glen Station in the light snow as the train rounded the bend, as Nan, Di, and Faith waved their scarves.
Sighing lightly, Nan said in a slightly scolding tone, "Faith, we don't know what will happen in the coming months, in the Western Front. Would you like some tea?" Without waiting for an answer, Nan set the tea service on the table and was just about to pour the tea into the cups when the peace of Primrose Hollow was shattered by a knock at the door.
Faith and Nan looked at each other with pale cheeks, and with determined steps, Nan stepped to the front door and slowly opened it. A figure wrapped in a thick coat stood in the doorway, and a familiar slightly low voice inquired, " Thompson drove past by a couple of days ago and he reported that there was light in Primrose Hollow, so I thought I'd come to greet all of Primrose Hollow lasses." So saying, Dorian Gardiner, swept his broad-brimmed hat from his head, and made a little bow. Nan raised her eyebrows and said calmly, "Welcome Dorian, I happened to make some tea, and would you like some cake?"
Dorian nodded, and cautiously he followed Nan into the warmth of Primrose Hollow. Faith had finished her sewing practice, and she had set the table with better tableware. Tea was drunk in silence, and slices of cake slowly crumbled on the plates, the pieces smelled lightly of ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
A slow and somewhat struggling conversation rose and fell, it dealt with ordinary, mundane things, past Christmases, which Dorian described in an evasive tone, and new books, goals for the coming Redmond term, and Faith, her cheeks glowing, explained her own plans. Dorian promised to deliver some raw pork slabs with skin intact, to Primrose Hollow, so Faith could continue her training.
Nan found to her astonishment that she had little to say to Dorian Gardiner without Di or Alice present. Annoyed, Nan straightened her back and pointed out "Dorian, as you can see, Alice and Di are not here now."
Dorian nodded silently and he glanced around the cosy, worn living room and took a bag from the side of his chair which he opened and gently said, "Here's a little cheer for you all, for times like these I've found that small acts go a long way."
Nan's eyes widened as there was a large beautiful purple orchid in a pot on the table with pale lavender stripes on the inner leaves. Dorian smiled gently, and with one finger he touched the quivering stem of the flower, remarking, "Of all the varieties of orchids in our greenhouse, I like this one best, perhaps because of its dignity, and because of the color of the blooms. And it makes a nice contrast to the interior of Primrose Hollow."
Faith chuckled brightly, and said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "It's been a while since you last brought flowers here. I must say, Alice has the patience of a saint, many others wouldn't be nearly as gracious." Hearing Faith's carefree words, Nan figeted in her seat, but Dorian's face brightened, and a small shy smile crossed his features.
After the tea was drunk, Dorian looked intently around him, noting all the small, intimate details, the handicraft basket, the stacks of books, the shawl carelessly folded over the piano, the piles of sheet music, the worn armchairs, bumpy furniture. A few paintings, landscapes lined up on the walls in clear rows, a shimmering mirror, a sense of femininity that exuded the very essence of Primrose Hollow. Each item told about its owners, these four girls, all of whom in their own way had brought light to his life, especially Walter's sisters, and naturally also Alice, in her evaisive way.
So with a sigh, Dorian gathered his courage and said quietly, "Nan, your brother was extremely important to me. He was one of the few who seemed to really see me, as a whole, and I've found that now that he's gone I feel lost. I have always had a tendency towards overdramatics and melancholy. I'm not saying this to garner pity, but understanding, if you ever run into me in the hallways of the Redmond campus and I'm ignoring you, don't be offended. Thank you for the tea, and the excellent cake, and generous hospitality for unlooked for guest. Unfortunately I have to continue my journey now, because there are still things to attend to today. "
Nan felt her eyes moisten with sympathetic tears, and with difficulty she could hold back the flow of them. And thoughtfully she glanced at Dorian, who sat straight-backed in his plum-colored suit, a gray-striped tie around his neck, his dark curls slightly tousled. Nan said softly and kindly "My brother has been missed by many, for he was a beautiful soul. I don't think you know that Di and I often joked at your and Walter's expense, for of course he managed to find a friend who resembles him in some ways. No one can replace my brother, but your love of beauty and sincerity, and a certain naivety sometimes remind me of him, and as painful as it is at times, it also brings peace, for your differences are decisive."
A red tint had risen to Dorian's face, and his green eyes shone brightly. Then suddenly a sneeze broke the fragile atmosphere that had prevailed around the table. Startled Nan and Dorian glanced at Faith, who was wiping her eyes with a white handkerchief.
Afterwards, when Dorian had gone and Nan and Faith were washing the tea dishes and putting them in the drying rack, Faith remarked, "Nan, tell me why you looked sick to your stomach when I mentioned Alice to Dorian?" Nan carefully placed the plates in the cupboard and crossed her arms, avoiding Faith's searching, watchful gaze. Finally she said haltingly, "I just have a feeling that I can't shake, even when I try."
Faith sighed and, in her unapologetic style, pulled Nan to sit in the living room. And decisively she pointed out " Your and Di's relationship has always been symbiotic, but now change has come, changes will always come, and you have to trust, and let Di live her own life. You've always suspected Alice from the first moment, I don't know where that feeling comes from. Resentment or jealousy, even sisterly is not attractive. You are only human like us and we are all sinners, but you better stop looking at Alice as if she is the personification of all the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah combined, for she is only a human being, equally fallible."
Nan sighed, and under Faith's unwavering, steady gaze, she found herself nodding, even as her mind drifted back to New Year's Eve, at Lewison's, flowing strains of violin and bagpipes, and the gnawing fear that perhaps soon she might see something she didn't even want to recognize.
Soft snow fell, it frosted the streets, and the streets all around Kingsport, as evening wore onwards. The wilted, curled rosebushes were covered in snow, and so was the griffin-knoker. The large windows were covered with dark curtains, but light shone through the cracks.
Inside of that particular house, there was a sound of laughter and a subtle, evocative scent of lavendel candles. Bright, free and happy laughter shone in town recidence of Dorothy Gardiner. She glanced with a smile at Di Blythe sitting on the pink silk divan. Di was dressed in a custom made dove gray suit, a pale gray shade, it enhanced brilliance of girl's red hair and the sparkle of her greenish gray eyes. At her feet, on the floor, sat Alice Parker, dressed in a pale salmon colored Butterick dress, with flowing, narrow hem, and embroidered pockets. Across room, Ernestine nodded in agreement, and Madeline Dobson smiled openly, her dark eyes were creased with happiness. The cake plates clattered softly, and a light,relaxed conversation rang out. Ernestine set the gramophone spinning, and accompanied by cheerful, clapping, carelessly, joyfully, Di and Alice danced, one song, after another.. The lavender candles flowed, down the silver candlesticks, and slowly the stearin solidified, into lumps, as Ernestine and Dorothy moved to the dance floor, among shadowy pairs, high-heeled boots, the legs of tailcoats and suits, and hems of different colors just rubbed against each other on the brightly colored soft carpet.
Out of breath, Di Blythe sat down next to Madeline Dobson, who glanced at the glowing girl, amused, and said warmly, "Does it help, this indescribable feeling of coming home that is always at these Dorothy's little gatherings?" Di didn't answer, out loud, but Madeline could read all her feelings from the girl's sensitive face, so calmly Madeline embraced Di and playfully said, "Well, go on. You'll surely have better company here, than graying spinster librarian with sapphic tendencies." And laughing, Di got up and cut a piece of cake for Alice. Satisfied, Madeline saw them sitting on thick cushions beside the yucca palms, beaming with that kind of bittersweet and effortless happiness that only the young can afford. Suddenly, Madeline felt her own pulse rise, for a while, a woman with glasses had been looking her way, cautiously. And now Madeline looked openly, and boldly back. The slightly slanted blue eyes smiled, and Madeline cautiously smiled back.
Light incense, and the smell of tea and champagne glowed in the apartment. There were brightly colored orange and pure white lilies in the vases and the music was glowing, clay discs were being argued about, and suddenly this homely, brilliant celebration and homeliness was broken by a knock on the door, which was repeated, more and more demanding. An unbroken silence fell on the drawing-room, and Dorothy Gardiner, glancing reassuringly at her guests, said, "Play some music, and have more champagne, I'll be back soon. No need to worry." Nervous smiles flickered, and with determination Di Blythe rose and served the champagne, Ernestine walking beside her, reassuring and commanding in her crimson striped silk dress. Dorothy straightened the collar of her black and gold kimono and slipped to the door.
In the doorway stood Adeline in her furs, and her sister said gravely, "Dorothy, Dorian hasn't been seen in Gardiner Hall, nor in Redmod's libraries or his favorite cafes for several hours now. And Thompson doesn't know where he is, or so he claims. What if he's been kidnapped by members of the White Feather?"
Dorothy, glanced at Adeline and said briefly "Adeline, Dorian is not here, this is a very bad time. I suggest that you go back to Gardiner Hall. I believe Dorian will be back soon, he may be at Roy's club, or Perennial's office, or a thousand other places."
Adeline gave a stiff nod, as she turned slowly, and looked at Dorothy, and said cuttingly, "I hope you and your small, select circle's amusements only involve Japanese silk and brocade, and nothing illegal like substance abuse, but one can never know what artsy types, surffragettes, and cadre of bluestockings will come up with." Dumbfounded with anger, Dorothy slammed door almost in her sister's face and with quick steps she walked back inside.
And slowly a familiar, calming commotion rose in the room. Dorothy noticed that in the corner, Di and Alice glanced at each other and as if by mutual agreement, they got up and crossed the room to Dorothy, and Di calmly said, "If that recent knocking had anything to do with Dorian, I can confidently say that sometimes he sleeps in Perennial's office, there's a field bed. I think the office space is a kind of safe space for him." Vivaldi's Winter, the poignant, beautiful notes of the gramophone burst out, as if to signal that the evening was coming to an end. And cautiously, one by one, guests crept out into snow- and slush-covered street and merged into crowds of Kingsportians.
In the morning, the headlines of the newspapers such as Kingsport News, proclaimed darkest colors following statement:
Peace negolations, gone to seed. Allied governments' demands for possible peace treaty of January 14 1917. Restoration of damages, evacuation of occupied territories, reporitions to certain countries, France, and Rumania, and recognition of the principle nationalities; liberation of Italians, Slavs, Rumanians, Czech-Slovaks, and a plan for the birth of a free and united Poland. Entente powers have rejected negotiations because Germany did not agree to set its own conditions.."
At the breakfast table of Primrose Hollow as in so many other houses throughout Europe, tea was spilled on that statement, and black staining ink stained fingers and tablecloths gray. Home front remained standing, as women, widows and loved ones continued knitting socks and the work of the Red Cross even more diligently as the weeks passed.
A/N: To all readers, thank you for reading, whenever you may be.