The sky was as startlingly blue as it can be on clear November mornings, and against it shone glory of Primrose Hollow's wild garden, oaks, wild vines, birch, aspen, and maple-leaves were whispering in a light breeze, and from the half-open window flooded of bitterly cold air, it mixed with the yeasty scent of warm bread, sweet datecake, and well brewed malty tea. The atmosphere at Primrose Hollow's breakfast table was bleak. It was Saturday. Nan glanced cautiously at Di, her twin seemed engrossed in reading a pile of sheet music, on which were written notes, in an unfamiliar graceful, angular handwriting, in a bluish ink that contrasted with the black musical notes. Di looked tired, but quietly radiant, as often in the last few weeks, she had spent her Friday nights, away from Hollow, playing the piano, all sorts of pieces, paid work, in Helene´ café amid varied customers and patrons.
Alice was sitting on the other side of the table, diagonally opposite form Di, she was immersed in a long letter, next to the covered teapot was a roughly cut envelope, and the stamps seemed to be hazily smudged. She seemed troubled, as she tapped her fingertips to the table, creating a small, but irritating sound, that grated on Nan´s nerves as Nan spread open the newspaper, the headlines announced grimly: "Provisional Government headlined by Kerensky has fallen. Lenin is in charge along with so called Soviets. What does this mean to Eastern Front?"
Nan glanced at a relatively comprehensive overview of what was happening in Russia, there was a light scent of iron gall ink, that seeped from tightly printed pages. All the news or reportages, or eye-witness accounts, seemed to tell about vague turmoil that had already started in the spring, in the snowy scent of March, when the different parts of empire, a multinational spectrum of languages and cultures, had demanded greater autonomy and independence, after over 300 years of imperialistic Romanov rule had been demolished. That news had then rocked the known world, by its roots, as it seemed that nothing, not even the old order was permanent anymore, in this current world of turbulence, violence, and war. In counter-strike of frevent nationalism as well as various national assemblies had been called in all over, even to the far-reached corners as there were cries of independence, that may come to fruiton, yet.
Nan vaguely remembered that, Alice had been extremely interested in that development, and had spent many evenings, with a tattered atlas, writing lists of town names, some of which appeared to be Moravian and some not which Nan had never heard of in Glen's geography lessons, but which Alice clearly had some emotional connection to. Now this latest twist had come in October, as a vague national party assembled from various representatives of the people had ousted the government that held the country together, barely, as Kingsport Entreprise headlines pointed out, what does that mean to Eastern Front? For even a layperson could perceive that if there was a power struggle or an imbalance in the country, there was a possibility that the entire Eastern Front bloc could break if Russia broke away from the entente power clique. The cards were in the air, and there was no telling which way they might fall. There had been the disaster that had been Kerensky's ill-fated summer offensive, as Russian lines had crumpled, one by one, and now things were, as Susan might say, "all catawampus."
Suddenly concentrated studious silence around the table was broken by Alice's low, almost guttural whisper. Soft sonorous vowels of Czech were haunting, in all their suddenness. Nan noticed how Di´s studied avoidance of Alice, slightly fragmented, in that one fleeting moment, as Alice pale bloodless cheek, and with quick steps folded letter, in her skirt pocket, she and soon vanished out of sight, there were light patter of footsepts going upstairs, almost at run, but not quite.
Nan carefully unfolded Kingsport Enterprise into the space left by Alice, and handed the regulated sugar-dish and a fresh teacup to Di, saying gently, with a steady gaze, "If a telegram has arrived, perhaps you should support her? Regardless of what is between you at the moment. I'm not meddling, with my Shirley nose in your affairs, this was just a thought."
Di spooned sugar into her tea, so that a light film of foam rose on its dark reddish brown surface. Simple fact was that financial reasons kept Alice in Primrose Hollow, their joint lease had covered Faith's departure to England, barely, and if Alice moved out too, there was a danger that Nan and Di would also be left without an apartment, as the cost of rent was too severe with only two to pay it. So, there were fragile balance of studied ignorance on both sides, between them that was the new normal, now in shared living spaces of Hollow. Grimacing, Di drank her slightly too sweet tea, and slipped into the stairwell.
Still a little worried Nan, glanced after Di before Faith's latest letter from England caught her attention, it was written with Faith´s usual wim. And it raised Nan's burning desire to see London, in some far-off day, for surely new opportunities were available, societies were advancing all the time, and now they both, Di and she, could vote, even! Amused, Nan noted that, of course, topics of Canadian local politics were completely absent from Faith's letters. It had been a relief that Nan had been able to use extremely careful wording to write about Primrose Hollow´s news and Faith's response in one of her letters had been typical.
Dear Nan,
Remember when we once sat for an evening in the parlor of idyllic Primrose Hollow. This is no exaggeration, if you saw my current bedroom, sterile is the only word to describe it! You had similar worries, don't worry too much, although I know you still do. Di takes her own path in this life that has given to all. Intense friendships have always been her "thing" even in our Glen epochs, as you know perfectly well. You take yours, along with my dearest elder brother, as we all do, I have Jem by my side, and as for Di, who knows, there could be someone dashing for her too, in time. Maybe I should believe more in predestination, but that's more Una's department than mine. My point is that fall-outs will happen, and if they do, support Di, as best you can, you know what to do when or if that time comes. Now I have to go as I'm about to be late for the afternoon round, and that is one of the long list of do nots, here. All the Head Matrons here will make Glen's Ladies Aid look like unruly choristers!
Love, to all, from misty old England!
Faith.
Ps. I am so happy that my mother's ruby pendant is now yours because it suits you. Jerry made the right choice, of all Mummys old treasure haul, as we used to call it in our olden Maywood Manse days.
Di was standing outside of Alice´s room, that room that she had not been in for weeks, not after the dissolution had happened. Carefully Di knocked on the closed door three times, and after a while the faint listless voice of Alice answered, "Oh, come in if you absolutely must."
Di found that Alice was sitting at her desk, she was wearing an old knitted forest green cardigan, and a creamy old house-dress under it. The vibrant color accentuated pallor of Alice's features. The dark green shade didn't suit her at all.
Surrounding room was in a slightly more chaotic state than usual, as if Alice had started tidyin up, but left it halfway. There were piles of dresses, and stacks of books, and notebooks, even few teacups, with their gilded rims glinting, in half-light on the wide bed. There were hastily folded scarves and silken hair ribbons draped all over the room, as were pillows. On the dressing table there was a certain green silk belt in a careful pile, the sight of which now caused Di to have a light jolt in the bottom of her stomach, which was absurd in its own right, but there it was, a slight frisson of haunting emotion that was surprisingly strong. Annoyed, Di corrected, her loose updo though it was fine, as it only could be, as it was just something to do with her suddenly restless fingers.
On the carpet at Di's feet was a half-crumpled letter, and looking up a little pointedly, Alice inquired, "Let me guess, Nan couldn't suppress her Emma-like Austen tendencies, so she very kindly cajoled you, as she sometimes does with her vivid blithe Blythe way, to come and check on my health, and at the same time to inquire what the letter really said, am I right? Or are you here now because you want to be?"
Di, said carefully, a little stiffly " Half and half, I think. I suppose you got some bad news?" Alice, with a shuddering glance at the letter which Di had laid on the dresser, slowly she nodded, and said briefly, in a tired colorless voice, "Apparently, both of my brothers are wounded, they both got hit at Passchendaele, well that was total booldbath, even if CEF-forces did eventually won the ridge and village according to newspapers and countless telegrams. Also Mother got the information, by circular routes, that both of my cousins, have also perished on the Italian front. It's pointless to ask if I know any more, because you yourself know how these things go."
Di, looked seriously at Alice and said perceptively, "And now you are in a state of confusion and pain, you don't know what you feel or even what you can do, for you know that nothing can be done, not anymore, not here at least."
Alice, nodded slowly and said, "That's right, but of course you know that feeling, because you've experienced it too." With extreme caution, Di remarked, "Is there anything I can do?" For a brief moment, Di regretted saying those words, as they broke that artfully cool distance she had cultivated with severe effort. Satisfied, Di noticed how Alice flinched, then a strange look came on her face, as if Alice had weighed something on her mind, but had dismissed it out of hand. Alice, shook her head feebly, and said a little hoarsely, with tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you, no, not now. If a little later you could play certain new to you Dvořák, it might help, perhaps, for they, my brothers and cousins liked it so, as I have such memories of it."
Very relieved, seeing Alice's tears, as blond girl's frozen regal stiffness, and remoteness had been eerie, despite Di knowing full and intimately, the ways in which Alice reacted to shock, Di, nodded, as she said, " Very well, that will be certainly a pleasant challenge, I think, and a good variation of my current music."
Alice had only said, "Diana, thank you. Thousands wouldn't do this, not how things are, but you've always been very generous, to a fault, even." Feeling suddenly moved, by Alice´s words, Di took a half-step towards Alice, as if to comfort her, in this cocoon of sorrow, but then, she remembered again her own cutting pain that this separation had caused, and stiffly Di, nodded, and said, softly " I suggest a bath might be relaxing, at some point, when the worst of the numbness subsides. If you need anything, I'll be downstairs, doing my part of everlasting Red Cross lists."
In the kitchen corner, Nan was eagerly studying Marilla's recipes, and seeing Di, Nan raised an eyebrow, as Di, only nodded, and said, "You were right." Nan wiped her hands on her blue-striped apron and said quietly, " Well, now this war has not spared anyone here, who knows how long we will have to endure this, and what will come of it. It is a terrible thought, but we have to endure it as best we can, even if it is difficult and hard."
Later that evening Nan had noted that Di had glanced in Alice's direction very thoughtfully, as Alice had sat in an armchair, her hair had dull golden muted gleam, it had curled wetly, there had a half-finished embroidery hoop nearby, as Nan read aloud Austen's Northanger Abbey, an old favorite. That Sunday evening, in Primrose Hollow, mesmerizing, mournful, Dvořák tunes shimmered, as Di at the piano and Alice, on the fireplace rug rendered, in flowing tone, some kind of lament, or it could have as easily been a love song, but it had a feeling of a lament. All Nan knew was that Di had seemed genuinely interested when, a couple of hours earlier, she had studied the dusty sheet music that had been in a pale gray cloth folder with a decorative fracture, a title, that had said, Cypřiše, Ohlas písní,12. B.11. 1865 A. Dvořák.
Then, new week began, for numbness and inactivity was a luxury that no one on the home front could afford as girls' days were filled with busy, stimulating lectures. Most afternoons there was Red Cross shifts where packages were collected almost every other day at large collection points and sent forward to the front-lines.
One evening week or so after Alice´s letter had come, Di looked up from one of her essay drafts as, Nan walked into the living room of Primrose Hollw knitting a woolen sock, in her other hand, as she said with gleaming mirth, with a swift glance to Di´s pensive form, "Do you want tea, it is a time for it, so bleak and serse, if not I got an interesting but slightly macabre letter from Faith, in the last post, it was full of amputation sketches, as she is very eager to immerse herself into everything. Happily she seems to be in good spirits, and in her element, in VAD training, even if it is exhausting. Apparently, if Jem gets a holiday in December, they plan to see each other, somewhere, along the coast if everything is going along smoothly, before that. Di, isn't that extremely romantic!"
Redmond's still slightly green grass fields were white from the cold, as seasons first severe frost had come overnight or so it seemed. Christine Stuart Dawson was dressed in a bluish fur-trimmed coat. She stood in the courtyard of Redmond and gazed with slight nostalgia at that building, its courtyard was full of busy bustle, as co-eds ran along the long paths of academic knowledge. Automatically she started walking towards institute of Musicology, her old stomping ground, that had been, as it was nestled between Library of the Redmond Music Society and now empty as usual Convocation Hall.
Christine remembered those times when, fair and snootily poisonous, but graceful in her way Claire Hallett, had made passes quite desperately after Gilbert Blythe, who of course had noticed nothing, out of ordinary, as he had been engrossed in chasing Cooper's Prize, with a relentless singleminded focus. And after yet another unsuccessful try, Claire had pointedly pointed out, as she had been sitting in Christine´s room with embroidery pillows all around them, "Christine, tell me your secret. What do you do differently from the rest of us? Why does divine and talented Mr. Blythe escort almost only you outside of lectures. I've even heard a rumour that he comes to listen when you perform. Was it something frenchy and classical only last week? If that is true it is truly a victory, a feather to pin in your hat."
Christine had smiled in her cat-like way, and said lightly, "Mr. Blythe is a rare jewel as as he is that almost lost breed as he is natural gentleman, despite his humble beginnings. Claire, he is here for knowledge, not to make a good marriage, like many of us Bluenose descendants, that are here playing our social games, and to gain BA-degree."
Claire Hallet had desperately clung to Christine's manicured red nailed hands, and at that moment, a small frisson had climbed up her spine, as she had realized that here was an unlooked for window with an opportunity. With calculated slowness, Christine had said, "Claire, tell me, what is important to you?" And as Claire had confidently listed the usual things that had been so numbingly boring, in their never-ending sameness, with a light snap Christine had inquired, "The key is, this, be interested in what they're interested in, nothing more nothing less, but there are different degrees. In all honesty you are touch too desperate, it is so common to be appear so, as that is not at all done thing." Christine had whispered a certain phrase in Claire's ear, and the end result had been that about twenty minutes later very flustered Claire Hallet, wearing red as was her custom, had been seen walking hurriedly out of Christine Stuart's room.
Next time Gilbert Blythe had encountered Christine, at their bench, near bloomin lilac bush, he had said in his patently impish way, "What exactly did you do to Claire Hallet, as she's finally stopped asking for help for her biology tutoring?" Christine had said carelessly, "I pointed out to my dear, dear, Claire that she was extremely desperate. No one in our circle wants to appear that way, even if it were true. I also said that I needed a guinea pig for my Aunts Chinese silk ropes, which she brought back from her honeymoon in Tokyo, because making knots that hold well enough is trickier than I thought, but maybe that's because of the material, it is so slick."
A soft baritone laugh had echoed, as Gilbert's deep hazel eyes had twinkled, as he had remarked, " Well, luckily your cavalier now, happens to be one of the best knot makers in all Avonlea. I can give you some pointers, but it must be said that bluenoses have quite the remarkable habits, silk ropes from China, what's wrong with good old hemp? Did Claire really believe you, because that seems like the kind of prank I could have pulled myself five or six years earlier."
Christine had said quietly, "Oh, yes, Claire knows me, so she did believe, every word with reverence. As it happens, I usually do what I promise." Afterwards Claire Hallett, had kept her distance, to both Miss Stuart and Mr. Blythe, for whole term, and the reason why that was so, Redmond rumor mill never found out.
Christine entered the premises of the Redmond Music Society's library, and peeked through the door of the reading room, a few customers were there, in the glow of the greenish clam-like lamps, a familiar pale profile could be seen. Alice Parker was looking exhausted, and drawn out, which her dark dress, which was clearly home-dyed, only added to it. Christine waited until Alice looked up, and then she nodded.
About ten minutes later, the door to the Music Society's concert hall opened, and Christine looked up, hearing footsteps Alice, replied colorlessly, as if by rote, " I hope these past months have been pleasant to you, if you travelled, to see your dogs, at least. For myself I can say they have not been, especially lately, as life has been challenging here on the homefront."
Christine's eyes flashed, as she said, in resonant measured tones "In Manitoba, everything was in place, and my light house is charming in its own way, with elaborate frescoes on the walls. My dogs, Turandot, Eboli and Renata, well they were love itself, as always, full of eager muddy paws, torn pillows, and simple joy of existence. The chaos they create fits perfectly with Andrew's mother's old-fashioned interior, which rules partly in those rooms that are not used often, when there is company. It is perhaps useless to hope that you would have been practiced your singing, as your studies must have kept you busy. I myself remember how challenging this last year here can be. Dearest, if you'll allow me to say, you look like you need cheering up. Do you happen to have a yearning for hot chocolate, by any chance?"
Extremely amused, Christine noted how at that seemingly innocent question, Alice had stilled, and then after a few moments, she replied, in faint voice, with a edge of quite amusing reserve in her tone, " I have sung, but only to myself and one other, nothing that you would consider practice, some Elgar, and a few Dvořák pieces. You said once that your door is always open, did you really mean it?"
In response, Christine only smiled, as she said, " Cocoa, for two in my suite I, think, because there I can answer better, to all possible questions, than here, but first, let me hear that tirelessly bohemian too probable folksy piece." Alice, crossed her arms and straightened her back, and performed an a capella version of Mé srdce často v bolesti, that haunting love song about love lost forever.
Mé srdce často v neštěstí
Se teskně zadumá:
Ó že ta láska bolest
A tolik trnů má?
Ta láska přejde jako sen,
Tak krásná,
Spanilá
A za kratinko upne jen
Se na ní mohyla!
A na mohylu kámen dán,
Nad nímž tam lípa bdí;
A na kameni nápis psán:
Zde srdce puklé spí!
As those tones of creamy golden, melancholic, pulsating music had subsided in the hall, Christine, nodded once, and said, " Excellent emotional charge, with impeccable diction. It seems that this still ongoing break from training has been the right solution. Or you're just at home in that kind style of music, though I hate to admit it."
Before closing time, Madeleine bumped into Di Blythe, who was standing in front of Vivaldi's compositions. A little teasingly, Madeleine inquired, "You are hardly looking for inspiration from Vivaldi, although his autumn is, as a composition, brilliant." Madeline, took a serious, weighing look at Di's face, and said quietly, "I see." And at that moment Di's mind was filled with the unpleasant thought that Madeline really knew, perhaps more than she did let on. Feeling suddenly stung, Di flared up, in her best imperious cold pale, Shirley-way " Do you then? We just co-habit the same space, that is all, but only barely."
Madeline suddenly looked very tired, as she replied soothingly, " My dear, there is no use to be angry at me, as it is not me that you are angry at, if you´re angry at all, in fact. If you really want to talk to her do that, instead of sulking all over the place, as that is very tiring behavior to observe, even if you are hurting. Your affairs are your own to solve or not, it is not my place."
Hearing Susan Baker's familiar idiom from Madeleine's lips, a spark of humor lit Di´s features as she said, "I probably deserved that, no one has given me a similar dressing down for a long time, it was refreshing. " Madeleine, glanced at her watch, and said in her humorous arch way, "Well, if some good will come from it, then my work has been done today. Run along now, as I have this place to close!"
Di's silvery laughter shimmered along the corridors, and that laughter seemed to evoke a more innocent time than the one that was now being lived around the world, as the whole world held its breath while waiting for the newspapers in the morning.
Christine Stuart Dawson's hotel suite was bathed in soft light, and there was the scent of rose water, as ever, and slightly creamy cocoa flavored with dried nutmeg. For once there was not music, as Victrola was in its box, in the corner mute and silent. The cocoa carafe had already been drunk some time ago. Slightly amused, Christine stretched out on the peach-colored empire sofa, and remarked, "You've seemed restless for the last twenty minutes. I'm going to assume you're here for another reason, completely unrelated to the cocoa, although it was delicious, as is your company and our conversation earlier. Well, come along then."
A narrow pearl gray chest of drawers was a corner of blue-hued suite. It was decorated with stylized oriental insignia, its deep drawers held neatly arranged bundles of middle-finger-thick ropes of different colors, and seeing Alice's startled expression, Christine said cheerfully, "Silk is silk, but other materials have their merits. Last time I had a thought, that you might enjoy it the most, a soft landing so to speak. The most important question now is this. What do you want from this, not quite an arragement, as one time is a chance, but this is something else, and above all why? Is it simply desire for to be disconnected from sorrow, and current reality of our war-reality, or something deeper, perhaps? I´d love to hear more, if you would care to tell it, if you can, yet?"
Alice, folded her hands on her knees and gathering her thoughts, as she said slowly, " It is partly those reasons that you did state. Main thing is that right now I feel numb. I want to feel something. Maybe this might help, put my thoughts in some kind of order, so please?" A little pointedly, Christine glanced at Alice, and said, with a hint of severity in her tone. "Oh, very well. I will grant this, but only as you said, please, so prettily."
At that comment, a slight blush rose on Alice's cheeks, as suppressing her smile, Christine slowly and purposefully began to tie and braid blood red narrow rope around Alice, carefully in elaborate criss-cross pattern. Finally, she secured it, with two slip knots that Gilbert Blythe had patiently taught her years ago.
The sand of the small decorative hour glass flowed in a shimmering heap. Christine was softly humming, a strand of Offenbach´s lilting Barcarole, as it had been meant as a lullaby, as Alice quite drowsily with a a wavering breathless choked voice remarked, " The ceiling is spinning, and everything seems, clear and bright, but at the same time hazy.."
Afterwards, Alice, seemed pensive, as she plaited her hair again, and swept the hems of her dress, in place, as she said, " Thank your for cocoa, and everything that included. If you can answer one question, why do you do this, is it about power and control?"
Christine poured remains of the solid cold cocoa into Alice´s cup as she said lightly, with a calculating emphasis, " Dearest, everything in life is about power, there is only various shades of it. Some overt and some not. As for why I do this, it's a kind of hobby. It's pleasurable, as you may have noticed yourself, that certain energry is exquisite, in right doses. Private spaces, give many opportunities, to various exploration, of desires and willfullness, of certain degree, and this does not take up very much space. Remember, that my calendar is never open on Wednesdays, or Mondays, either, if somepoint you have sudden yearning for this kind of rendez vous, again, as this was quite fun, was it not so?"