A few fresh wildflowers with green leaves, sprouted around razor-sharp barbed wire, a sign of spring, the ground had been trampled flat by thousands of feet. Slowly, in precise formation, the men under Ken's command entered cautiously, and settled among the others, on the rough wooden benches Canteen Hut, was soon completely full. The air was bluish with acrid cigarette smoke, and an out-of-tune piano struck the opening note, as well-worn curtains opened, and the men cheered and cheered as the six figures entered the little stage, and the entertainment of the evening began. Sketches followed, accompanied by light and bawdy comedy, and poetry, recitation, and lewd skits in which superiors were mocked mercilessly. Ken hid his smile as everyone around him sang in chorus, out of tune, an old and familiar favorite, "Never Mind," and immediately after, "Mademoiselle from Armentières." And the most popular moment of the evening was when the female impersonator, the star of the evening, came to fore, bewigged and rouged, her dress was an ostentenious affair, with sashes and ruffles. Afterwards, as always after this kind of fun, the morale of the crowd was high, and the men hummed tunes and there was plenty of opinions about the varying level of the show, as the portions of rum made the spirits even more cheerful.
In his quarters, Ken, glanced at the package that had arrived, by post, with a deep sigh, swirling his portion of rum, he cut open the ribbons, his sister's lily-scented perfume, brought a sense of home, and Ken closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The box was packed well, and to his delight, Ken noticed that there was a tin of bisquits, small bottle of sandalwood cologne, and another one of whisky, three packets of not damp cigarettes, chocolate, and a rather thick book with stylized flower vines on the cover, and the title The Saddest Story. Curious, Ken glanced at the author's name, it was Ford Madox Hueffer. Something rattled at the bottom of the box, there were two magazines, as well. With a fond smile, Ken held up his sister's letter to the smoky light, and satisfied, he tore the envelope open, taking a sip of his rum and the taste of melting chocolate on his tongue he started to read Persis´s careless cursive. And he grinned joyfully at her opening greeting.
Prince Charming! We are all busy here, the weeks seem to fly by, or at least it feels that way sometimes. Father is working on and finishing his manuscript, with a deadline looming, of course inspired and aided by Madeleine pastries. Mother's time is spent with co-hosting various efforts of Laidies Aid in the Rosedale area, and what about me, you may wonder? My time has been spent helping out at Knox Church, as there are services and support for the needy, in Saturdays, and in addition to this, my time flows among my usual chores, which you already know about, as I have complained about them (at length) before. I can still drive a car, fortunately, even though the journeys have shortened, there is still severe petrol shortage. Well, I happened to drop in at Kingsport, on the pretext of checking on their Red Cross branches, for I knew from correspondence with Mother and Aunt Anne, that all the girls of Primrose Hollow, as common parlance at their set in Redmond goes, are all hard at work Red Cross of Primrose Hollow Subdivision. That little jaunt of mine, was only two days, roughly, but oh how fulfilling those days were! And that book I have packed for you came as a recommendation from a friend of Walter's Redmond days, who is naturally fond of literature. I hope you like it, and lest you be alarmed, Nan Blythe also recommended the book in glowing terms, although she also tried to talk me into sending you Shelley and Byron, even though I said you had of course read them before. You and Walter spent a whole summer reading through Byron's output the and all the variable letters you wrote to each other. You based several of your collage essays on those quotes from your correspondence, and you got the best grades.
When I was at Primrose Hollow, I finally met Walter's Alice, as you called her, and she had some amusing comments about you. It's refreshing to meet a girl who sees you for what you are, that is, overconfident. She seems like a possible kindred spirit, to use Aunt Anne's term. Di took me to episcopalian afternoon service, occasion was extremely interesting, and not only because, in honor of Trinity Sunday, Bach's cantana 199 was performed there, and you know, when Alice started, "Stumme Seufzer, stille Klagen," and the wistful oboe, and violins joined in, at that moment I was transported, utterly, and I sat motionless for the rest of the cantana, and you know how hard it is for me to be completely still. Fresh flowers and candles and light incense smelled everywhere. Bach is sometimes so worn out, especially after Easter, and on Sundays, but that time I experienced something almost heavenly, even if it sounds a bit trite. After the service and the usual biscuits and tea, parade Alice walked up to us and I inquired of her if she performed exclusively only spiritual music, and Di burst into such a hearty laugh that the parishioners turned to look at us somewhat disapprovingly. Apparently Alice has some sort of family connection to Astro-Hungarian Empire, or so Di evasively told me, that would explain a lot, as her pronunciation of German was excellent. I can confess to you that, of course, I started to remember those Ruritanian romances that Father read to us as bedtime stories, with an ironic emphasis. The rest of my time at the Hollow was wonderful, good food and genuine quiet togetherness, arguments and conversations that varied in tone, - well you know what a force of nature Faith Meredith and Nan can be, despite the adourous journey back to Toronto, it was a nice little working holiday if ever there was one.
Here, we try to maintain the morale and spirit of the home front, as is suitable and expected, at least according to the propadanda headlines, but sometimes it's quite difficult, so many things are left unsaid. Maybe if we hadn't grown up in the business, I would be more confident. I know you always do what you think is best, and I trust you, always, even when you left quite a cavalcade of broken hearts in your wake. Although it seems like you're serious for once, aren't you? Nan showed latest picture of little Rilla, she has become quite beautiful, and the Blythes are almost family, already. I know that if you were here you would tease me unmercifully, because I got a letter and an elaborate bouquet of lilies, which was a surprise. The letter was from that friend of Walter's, and the flowers as well, I had left him my card - well, I give them out, often, there's nothing special about it. It was strange that he knew I loved lilies, I didn't think I mentioned it, but maybe he had asked Ingelside twins. The reason why he is not in the service is simple, the army doctors have denied him, there are, genuine medical reasons, his legs are not working properly, an old childhood accident that has also partially broken his immune system. We had interesting conversations, although his opinions need improvement, in places, he doesn't seem like a typical salon, he also writes for a magazine, it's called Perennial, although it's just a Redmond publication, it's quite impressive, it's the same one Di writes for. And I'll include two issues in your package, that way you'll have more to read, because you might be interested, and if you're not, pass them along for your men.
Please, stay safe, do not take stupid or gallant risks, and remember to wear warm socks, still!
All my love,
PRF
Ken then, laid rustling sheets of missive thoughtfully on his knees, and with a curious glint in his deep dark grey eyes he opened the Perennial magazine and read the by-word written by someone named Dorian Gardiner. "Private W.C. Blythe's famous poem Piper was partly the impetus for this theme. These texts published in this volume of Perennial have been obtained through collection surveys, from various Soldiers around Europe, through Redmond's relatively comprehensive alumni network. There are also some descriptions of the home front and civilian life, about which Diana Blythe's essay, Pale smiles, and woven socks", is one example, and as he read onwards Ken found himself remarkably impressed, and moved, for the bold content of the paper, described almost perfectly the mess in which he and the men he led were in the middle of, for the war was a great bloody mess, and chaos, full of advance, and retreat, and nameless and named sacrifices, and the voice of the soldiers, including the late beloved Walter, rang out clear, after turning the last page, Ken wiped his eyes, and swallowed the last drops of his rum, when the order came , "Lights Out, all is quiet on the Front, for now!"
Madeleine Dobson, closed the small drawer in the large dresser where the index cards were. The high shelves were painfully neat, and the smell of books was familiar. The high room was bathed in the calm of the afternoon, then intimate whispers were heard from the hall, and curiously Madeleine walked forward down the corridor. Alice Parker and Dorian Gardiner were leaning against the marble pillars, and, as Madeleine watched, the youth declared in a mirthful tone, "You know, after reading these, I don't feel like I used to. Somehow I've got her to myself, though the letters in that box don't belong to me. And the best thing about it is that now I actually have an address I can write to if I want to. I can't tell you how many drafts I've started and then thrown away after a few lines." The young man had a light package of letters in his other hand, which he waved carelessly. Alice, nodded, and said in her warm way, "But Dorian, be careful with them, for they are fragile." And at that same moment, the thin ribbon holding the package together broke, Madeleine grimaced, seeing the letters flying in an arc around the hall, light as the leaves falling from the trees in September. Alice's warm laugh rang out in soft reproach, and Madeleine, withholding her smile, slipped into the shadows, leaving the young people to collect the letters among themselves, hoping against hope, that they were doing a decent job, for it would be undesirable if she had to collect lost letters of a member of the Gardiner family among her other duties.
The hours passed, as is their wont, Claire's teapot glistened in the sun, and with a sigh, Madeleine remembered the innumerable times that she had entered this library, which for years had been more her home than her workplace. And in the early days, when she met Royal Gardiner in the library lobby before he married, Madeleine remembered wondering what that elegant-looking dark-haired youth really knew, or if he knew anything at all. Only once had he met them together, on that unforgettable afternoon, in the park where the daffodils had bloomed and the Glazebo had been shrouded with greenish haze. The shadows had been like the finest lace, around them, when Madeleine had inquired, "Why did you do ask that job-offer, on my behalf, of course I'm grateful, but you shouldn't have. I waited for you for hours, in our usual place, but you didn't come, so I thought, there must have been an insurmountable obstacle. " Claire had glanced around as if the walls of Glazebo were paper, and she had just said in a very low voice, "It's better you don't know, there are places that. Never mind, I'll make sure you don't get there, but still be very careful , make yourself invisible if you can." And Claire had raised her chin with a look of determination, and her tender fingers were clenched into fists. Silence had fallen, and the following moments in the Glazebo had been full of precious bittersweet ecstasy, which was only heightened by their impending separation.
Madeleine shook her head as she tried to bring her mind back to the present, and her work, but it was so hard sometimes, especially after the shock of seeing Claire's photo. In it she had looked older than in Madeleine´s golden memories, of their time together, she had seemed, sadder, and somehow more mature, well naturally, as years had flown, there had been fatalistic tint on her features. She seemed to be so, far form that regal, mischievous, charming young woman who had captured her heart with a few long glances.
Warm honey-toned light streamed through the tall windows as Madeleine paced the library, checking that everything was in place and kindly informing the last patrons that the library would be closing soon. Something rattled beneath her steps, like a breaking leaf, and with a sigh of irritation Madeleine stooped, and held up the thin letter to the light, and turning it lightly, she slipped it into her pocket. The door to the concert hall was ajar, and Madeline was about to close it, but then imperious voice of a woman who was clearly used to commanding rang out clearly from it. " No, no, softer, considerably softer, and don't look at the notes, you know this my dear, or at least you should, already. However, something needs to be done with those clothes, a light muslin with lace decoration might work in intimate situations, but not on concert stages." Shimmering skillfully played chords lingered, and there was a small rustle, and a light sigh. Madeline raised her eyebrows as there had been some tone in the voice of the unknown woman, but there was nothing very special about the exchange, as it was spring, and the hall was often used for training, so Madeline just softly closed the door, leaving those inside to practice.
Soon, Madeline was standing in front of her relatively neat desk for once. There were a steaming cup of tea in front of her, and she was emptying her pockets, there was, hair ties, a small notebook, pins, a pencil, and a yellowed letter. Madeline sat down and carefully turned the letter, and the light from the greenish lamp hit the address Madeline froze, and the world around her seemed to shake. And with the softest touch, Madeline touched the worn, already brown ink, where that beloved name was written in clean, slightly decorative cursive. And suddenly Madeline felt she couldn't breathe, and taking a shuddering breath, Madeline buried her face in her hands. And well into the evening, a light twinkled from one of the library's windows.
Christine Stuart Dawson glanced inquisitively at weary and pale Royal Gardiner, and declared in her irresistibly charming sharp style, "Too many early mornings, and late evenings? Or have you perhaps spent your time again with the maudling collected poems of Ernest Dowson, as you once did, after our mutual Redmond days, they are so full of romantic longing for the unattainable, if I remember my old lessons right. Well, luckily I have a suggestion that might cheer you up, I thought I'd arrange a little occasion in honor of spring, and end of Redmond term, what do you say to that?"
Royal stretched, so that the soles of his shoes scraped the expensive carpet. The misty grayness almost seemed to be shimmering from behind the windows, it had already rained almost non-stop for two days. And the wing of the apartment around them was full of Christine's sure and precise taste, but it was still an expensive anonymous hotel room. On the small table was a framed photograph of Christine's beloved dogs. Royal glared at Christine and said "As always my dear friend, I have no say in what you do or don't do, but I still wonder why you're still here. I would have thought that weeks ago you would have left to travel again?" Have you perhaps some project you are undertaking, some elaborate charity collection or object, of adoration, in the same way as my dear sister Adeline often has, with which she fills her weeks?" Christine hid her smile, and said half-seriously, "Your sister probably wouldn't like that way of yours if she happened to hear how you describe her toils for the home front. Would you believe me if I said that traveling in these present conditions struck me as unpatriotic?" In response, Royal, just looked at the half-open wardrobe bursting with feminine pieces of clothing, the luster of satin, the sparkle of embroidered silk, lame fabric, and he raised his eyebrow, and looked around sharply. On the oval table were two thin folders, crumpled papers, fountain pens and two teacups, and the air smelled of light rose water, Christine's personal scent. Royal poured a small cup of coffee for Christine with a light, polite gesture, and after a moment's silence he remarked, "You must have had a companion here? Or to be more precise, have you started giving music lessons, you couldn't have sunk so low now, my dear. Always you swore that music and even performing is a way of life, and not some boring hobby."
Christine gave a light laugh and said "Observant as ever Royal, I have had quite delightful moments." Royal smoothed his tie, with a distracted frown, and said, "Redmond's term ends in a couple of weeks. Now that so many of upcoming graduating class have decided to go into VAD service, the process has been sped up. In consequence general mood is somber, and Redmond's big-wigs are thinking about morale elevation, as news are low at the moment, apparently Nievelle Offensive has been abandoned, so by all means, arrange that little spring occasion of yours, darling."
Nan sat in the garden of Primrose Hollow on a bright evening, the birds chirping brightly, and Di sat upstairs writing with an almost glowing enthusiasm that was a joy to watch. The gate creaked and Nan saw Alice's figure dressed in pale muslin walking up the path, Alice had a folder under her arm, and the pale girl's expression was pensive, so Nan exclaimed, in her warm and delightful manner "Alice, aren't spring evenings always quite charming?" Alice sat down next to Nan, spreading her skirt carefully, Nan tilted her head as she glanced intently at the taller girl. Alice looked tired, but that was nothing out of the ordinary, as the exam time was almost here, and the sense of urgency in Primrose Hollow was almost palpable. Alice moved the folder to the grass next to her and Nan inquired "Are you practicing anything new, as you haven't been seen here lately, except at breakfast." Alice laughed tiredly as she said, "I'm doing my studies in library, because it's so wonderfully peaceful there. The contents of this folder, is just a set of songs that someone suggested to me." And with soft steps Alice picked up the folder from the grass, and said, "Now I need tea, do you want some too?" And after Nan had nodded her assent, Alice slipped lightly into Primrose Hollow with almost silent steps.
And that evening, while brushing her hair with Blythe's silver-backed heirloom brush, Nan remarked to Di, "Has Alice changed her perfume, for tonight her hair smelled of rose water, instead of the usual nutmeg and violet she wears when she doesn't use the wonderful gift she received, from Dorian." Di, frowned and twirled the ink pen between her fingers and said lightly, "The scent in question is common and worn by many, including Christine Stuart Dawson and Madeleine Dobson, to name a few. It's quite possible that Alice has met either of them if she's spent her time at the Redmond Music Association´s Library, don't worry Nanlet." Nan's dark eyes were shadowy as she inquired, "How can you remember the perfume of a socialite, let alone a librarian?" Di just laughed in her glimmering silvery way as she said, "I've spent quite a bit of time with Madeleine Dobson, on various occasions, and the last time we all were at Gardiner Hall, Christine Stuart Dawson graciously spoke to me, and I noticed her scent, it was subtle and expensive, but very distinctly roses. And in our childhood, you were much more interested in creating fragrances than I was, you necessarily wanted all kinds of romantic, old-fashioned scents, and that's why you probably also wear a rose scent if the occasion comes along, if I'm not mistaken." Nan nodded, and after a moment's silence she said in a low voice, "You're right, but besides, rose is Jerry's favorite scent, because Cecilia used to wear it, so he told me in our early days. One Christmas, Jerry had bought me the same perfume, and since then I've only worn it."
Then, the day had arrived. The girls of Primrose Hollow stood in the stands and cheered as Faith Meredith received her BA diploma from the Dean of Redmond. And a little later, students dressed in brightly colored dresses swarmed the Redmond campus area, like a flying swarm of butterflies. And Dorian Gardiner strode over to the girls of Primrose Hollow, who were all dressed in different colored day dresses, Nan in rose pink, Di in blue-gray, and Alice in lavender, and handed a glowing bouquet of roses to a beaming Faith, saying, "Congratulations, wonderful achievement. If I understand correctly, VAD training awaits you as does London too?" Faith, glanced at Dorian from the corner of her eye, and said cheerfully, "Do you have any tips on what to do in London, not that there aren't many days off." Dorian just smiled warmly at the red-cheeked girl in front of him, who was wearing a yellow silk dress that Dorian recognized as Alice's, and said, "London will show its many faces to you, as time goes on. The work you are going to do is extremely important, but I am sure you know that already." Faith only nodded, in a solemn way.
For weeks Kingsport's Bluenose circles had been abuzz, because quite soon Christine Stuart Dawson would be hosting a little soiree, and the invitations were quite hard to come by. Through the sanded paths of Redmond walked Christine Stuart Dawson, dressed in blue as usual, and she leaned lightly on the Royal Gardiner's arm, and he nodded and waved to the crowd. Nan glanced at the couple's progress and remarked in a low voice, "Dorian, you know, does perhaps your father, has been courting that woman, it would seem so." Dorian shook his head, his dark jasmine-scented curls were blowing in the slight breeze, and he said, "They're just very old friends, I think. And that reminded me, Christine asked me to give these to you." Dorian held out three invitations.
A couple of days later in tea-scented Primrose Hollow, Faith was sewing, starching and ironing furiously as Nan eyed cream-white invitations to the "Spring soiree" curiously, and thoughtfully she said, "Di and Alice are you going to go there? Faith has already written her polite refusal." Di, looked up dreamily from her black notebook and said softly, "I'd love to, but I have a meeting with Sherwood Publishing, upcoming, so I don't think I'll be able to attend." Alice, glanced at Nan and Di and said quietly, "I'm probably supposed to be there." And seeing the startled looks of Nan and Di, she explained, "Do you remember when Di and I performed at one of Milne's recitals, where we played Mahler and Dvorak? Well, after that performance, Christine Stuart Dawson came to me with a proposition."
Di gave Alice a searching glance as Nan exclaimed excitedly, "But it's such a great opportunity, why haven't you said anything before?" Alice, glanced reassuringly at Di, as she replied to Nan, in her serene way, "As a rule, I don't usually talk about my affairs, and music is and making it, is extremely personal to me, it has once helped me through challenging times, and today it brings hope to these dark times, but I am also more than that. " Nan said thoughtfully, "I might linger there, for I'm sure Dorian needs company, and talking to him always makes the evening pass quickly, but that depends on my Red Cross duties, as ever." Red-cheeked Faith called out from the kitchen in a desperate sounding voice, "Alice, Nan come help, I think I did something irreversible to my collars that I tried to starch according to Rosemary's written instructions!" The peaceful moment of the evening broke into homely, lovable chaos that only Faith Meredith could organize, in her own unique way.
The streets of Kingsport smelled lightly of fresh rain. The pink lamps were lit, and the muslin curtains were half drawn in front of the high windows, they were ajar, and the ecstatic spring serenade of the birds could be heard from there. Cross-legged on a soft carpet with orange skirts around her Dorothy Gardiner, glancing thoughtfully at Alice Parker, who sat beside her, and Di Blythe, said, "Alice, if you are going to dear Christine's little affair, you need to wear something well-known, and which will also be elegant afterwards. Think of the evening as a game of cards, with every attendee have their own separate agendas but also have fun but don't drink too much champagne even if you are offered it, and it will happen, because one of Christine's greatest pleasures is to push guests out of their comfort zone in one way or another. But if I'm right you will be fine because you have, if necessary, the ability to improvise. And Di, a neat blouse and a dark skirt will be enough for Sherwood Publishing, right Ernie?"
Ernestine poured the scented tea into three gilded bone china cups, and playfully remarked, "I think, Do, you might have something in your wardrobe to suit Alice, don't you have that one Soeurs Callot?" Dorothy clapped her hands together, and said in a light tone, "You are a treasure, I had quite forgotten, for the shades of it do not suit me, although I bought it, you are quite right." Dorothy smiled at both girls and said half-serious, mien her dark eyes twinkling, "It was kind of you to come and return that one envelope, because about a week ago I wondered where it had gone when I was going through the collection. I hope the contents were educational enough?" Ernestine chuckled softly, seeing the look on the girls' faces, and said "Do-Do, don't embarrass them too much, that wouldn't be humane."
Later, in the peace of Primrose Hollow, Nan glanced curiously at Alice, who was sitting in an arm-chair busily sewing something,— it looked just like a corset cover, made of white lawn, exceedingly graceful, and a most elegant detail. And Nan remarked, in a slightly incredulous tone, "Isn't that rather Edwardian, Alice?" And Alice glanced at Nan and remarked, "You're right, but sewing often calms my nerves, and while I was doing the laundry, I noticed that all my previous corset covers were getting a little tattered, so I decided to make a few new ones." Humming, Nan sat down near Alice, and began to write to Jerry. Soon the only sound in the living room was the light rap of Nan's pen, and the swish of Alice's needle, and Di's clatter in the kitchen, and Faith's light laugh as she told some anecdote. Day or so later, Nan was in the living room ironing her dress, her hair was up in curls. While Faith w organized her last running errands, and tied the loose ends, and Di was with Perennial offices, as Alice as ever baked in the kitchen.
Bluenose circles of Kingsport were abuzz, for tonight would be Christine Stuart Dawson's Spring Soiree. Line of cars crawled along the streets of Kingsport, and a clerk dressed in a dark uniform opened Hotel´s large double doors to the slow streams of guests. One of the hotel's cabinet rooms and a few smaller rooms were reserved, and the guests swarmed the rooms eagerly. The air smelled of fresh spring flowers. Dorian carefully dodged the vases of flowers, and glanced around, the large light cabinet was brightly lit, and small groups of people were talking in low voices around the serving table. And a soft smile spread across his face when he noticed that Nan had arrived, she looked very elegant in her light dress, her dark hair pulled up at the nape of her neck. Nan glanced around curiously and breathlessly remarked, "Quite a turn-out, is that always the case?" And Dorian, just nodded in silence, and then he, startled, as Nan had stepped on his foot. The girl's hazel eyes had narrowed, and she hissed between her teeth, "What is she doing here?" And following Nan's gaze, Dorian noticed that Irene Howard had arrived. Irene seemed to be in a great mood, and her voice rang brightly as she greeted in her sweet way, to Christine Stuart Dawson, who seemed slightly amused, and she said something in a low voice to the blonde curly-haired man with a mischievous expression, who was standing next to Irene.
Then, Christine, walked up to the little dais, and clinking her glass, said in her clear voice, "Dear friends, and acquaintances, the best people of Kingsport and Redmond! The last few months have been hard for everyone, and I hesitated before I dared to arrange this evening, but thanks to the support of my dear Royal it worked. As usual, enjoy the evening and each other's company, but also remember our boys at the front, collection containers have been placed in different places in this space. There is, dare I even say it, some performances. " Resounding applause echoed through the hall as Christine Stuart Dawson sailed off the podium, her dark midnight blue skirts just skimming the floor. Sipping his champagne, Royal Gardiner walked over to Christine's side and said softly, "Everything seems to be going very well, you must be very pleased. I've received a few compliments myself from unexpected quarters." The dance floor was half full, and a small orchestra, were tuning their violins. Royal noticed Robert walking on stage, and he took a theatrical position. Then familiar romantic tune, Roses of Picardy, began. Robert's tenor voice was clear, resonant and soft. Nan sighed beside Dorian, as the refrain of beloved tune, were echoing through the room.
Roses are Shining in Picardy,
in the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are blooming in Picardy, but there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the summertime, and our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy! 'tis the rose that I keep in my heart!
Nan's thoughts automatically focused on Jerry, and on what Faith Meredith had told her, Jem was carrying dark red roses wrapped in Faith's handkerchief in his coat pocket. And when the song ended, she wasn't the only one quietly wiping away tears.
Royal, did sleek shrug of his shoulders as he said to Christine with a sardonic amusement coloring his melting velvety voice, "Quite a change of direction, as Rob usually only sings most bawdy versions of most lewd drinking songs, however you managed that feat?" Christine smiled and said, "I just happened to point out to Robert that young women these days sometimes crave public attention. Jewelry as gift is nice, but a serenade might do the trick even better way. And look, I was right." Robert and a red-cheeked, glowing Irene were dancing, swaying, in their own little circle, there were light raucous laughter, as Irene showed off her glittering bracelet. She had even pinned Robert's rose in her hair.
Hours flowed like water, and champangne flutes were filler over and over again,candles in the large candelabra had run out more than halfway, as soft piano chords struck, to a lightly buzzing room, and Irene Howard in her customary red, and Alice Parker, in hazy, embroidered dress with an asymmetrical hem stood in front of the audience and performed a series of songs, first, Say a Prayer for the Boys Out There, followed by, flirty, and a bit risque, "I'll Make a Man of You" and finally "Keep the Love-Light Burning in the Window Till the Boys Come Marching Home." Both girls were almost drowned in flowers and applause, after their set was over and done with. Nan could see that Irene was really lit up by the attention, but it was also amazing that Alice also seemed to be at home in the crossfire of intent, and calculated glances, and not self-concious at all. She almost did not recognized the blond girl as the same, reserved, and proud person with whom she had shared the everyday life of Primrose Hollow, for quite a while now.
And in thought Nan tasted without looking from the glass that had been brought before her. And suddenly, everything seemed brighter, and Nan found herself laughing mirthfully, at Dorian's wary eyes, and after few hours she was explaining, in a grave tone, to some complete stranger about Walter's poems, until she got a hiccups and she gasped for oxygen by the open window, holding her flushed cheeks pressed to a blissfully cool windowpane. Everything was swriling. Then Dorian's familiar voice said behind her. "Nan, come on. Thompson is waiting outside, he'll take you safely back to the Hollow, and to Di, I promise." Nan glanced at Dorian, and he suddenly looked very fuzzy, and with a sigh, Nan closed her eyes. And then small hands handed her a waterglass, as Nan looked up, it was Alice. Alice walked along with Dorian and Nan, to the Gardiner Ford. Thompson remarked, "Well, it seems that you all have had wonderful evening. Miss Blythe, to Primrose Hollow? Nan nodded, then she said, "Yes, it is getting late. Have fun evening, dearest Dorian, and naturally you too Alice!"
Soft violins were playing, fatefull, tempting Bizet. Dorian was sitting on the green sofa, drinking water, and watching Alice quite skillfully evade the attention of one of Royal's associates. Dorian raised his hand and beckoned Alice to him. And a little out of breath, Alice sat down next to Dorian, and wiped her face with a small lacy handkerchief. A bright reddish color glowed on Alice's cheeks, as she drank her water, taking quick sips, and in undertone Dorian noted that Alice hummed Card-aria from Carmen. And Dorian quite by impulse, said in coaxing way, " Can you sing that today?" Dorian noticed Alice close her eyes for a moment, and then she nodded.
Quarter of an hour passed, and then, in front of the audience stood, to Dorian's astonishment, not only Alice, but also Irene and Christine. As card aria, folded open as it always does, with slow tension. Dorian noticed that Alice's voice, which had been airy earlier in the evening, now had a lush tone to it, as if she really saw before her the fateful cards that read her doom, and the swirling harmonies of Irene's and Christine's voices created an atmosphere that lasted until the last powerful notes were over, and the applause and cheers, indeed, seemed to overflow, until Christine nodded to the orchestra, and the waltzes began again.
Afterwards sensing Dorian's steady but neutral gaze, Alice glanced at him and said in a gentle playful manner, " Well, that was my final song for the evening, unplanned, but quite fun, in its own way, and everyone seemed to love it. You were right. Have you perhaps found any new candidates to wear Valentine's pearls in the future?" Dorian sighed, and said in a slightly unsure voice, "Perhaps, but it's too early to tell."
Few steps away, form his son, and Alice, Royal Gardiner listened wearily to the bubbling talk around him, which only seemed to increase as the evening wore on. And suddenly he sharpened his hearing, for the oily Collings had just remarked aloud, in quite carrying voice that he often had. "I don't think young Mr. Gardiner has fallen very far from the old tree, for attractive fair women seem to be their lot, except when members of the family indulge in unnamed vices."
And before Royal could do anything, Dorian's voice was clear and distinct and surprisingly commanding, "Mr. Collings, have you anything to say to me. I suggest you go, for you have forgotten the rules of politeness, and I could wager that this evening ambience would certainly improve, if you would be no longer here." Dorian stood straight, Alice by his side, he leaned on his canes, but his back was straight, and the look on his sensitive face was very cold. And while some people laughed at Dorian's words, Collings's neck began to redden, and he threw a furious look in Dorian's direction, and took one step forward, and then he happened to look in Royal's direction, and all the color drained from his face, and with the least noise, he slipped away.
Next to Royal, Robert said in his usual sarcastic style, "Old chap, you don't see that kind of thing every day, I think your boy is getting to be a man after all. I've always hated Collings, he's so, so wet. Women's honor should always be upheld, the prize might even be an engagement or what do you think?"
Royal said in his best censored style, "Robert, Robert, when my son gets engaged, you'll hear about it the same way as the rest of the Kingsport - by newspaper, and not a moment before." Robert only laughed in his merry way, and went to hand out glasses of champagne, to Dorian, and to Alice, who accepted hers mechanically, and drank half of it, with a flushed face and darkened eyes, and then she polished two more in quick succession, as Royal observed in faint way. Then his business associations commanded his notice, to far-flung cigar smoke-filled corner, where the deals were struck and polished, next to dark-paneled walls, and with a last glance towards Dorian and fair Alice Royal joined them.
Hour or so later, Dorian noted that there was no sign of Alice's hazy dress. Cautiously Dorian moved into other rooms. First one was quite empty, only there were only dim candlelight, and for a brief moment Dorian felt that he was at home, but then the illusion was shattered, as the the second smaller room´s door was slightly ajar. There were crystals, and shadows fluttering on the damask wallpaper, and also Christine Stuart Dawson. She rested on the narrow divan, in carelessly elegant manner, her slim ankles were crossed, and her dark blue hems were mussed, and rumpled. The golden candle-light lit, her still handsome features with glit, in this light, Dorian saw streaks of silver in Christine's dark raven-black hair, and her hands were graceful but large, and long-fingered, on the ring finger of her right hand there was a flashing ring with a magnificent diamond embedded in narrow band of gold. There was a single carafe of ruby red claret on a small table, and two crystal glasses. And then there was a light, low chuckle from somewhere.
Feeling startled Dorian crept away carefully, as it was not proper to witness certain things, as Adeline had always remainded him. Night air was clean and full of the scent of spring as Thompson waited for him on a curb. And just as Dorian was about to step into Thompson's car, a bone-colored car swung up beside him, and the driver's door opened, and fair Robert's head peeped out, and he joyfully exclaimed, "Young Dorian, now you come with me, for this evening is still young, and I have something to show you. I promise to return you to the Hall by lunchtime tomorrow." The stars were twinkling and Dorian, feeling that for once he wanted a little adventure, so he nodded and got into the car as it wound its way through streets of Kingsport.
The Spring Soiree was widing down. The light scent of rosewater and powdery expensive french perfume mingled, as Alice hid her smile, remembering Dorothy Gardiner's words of advice. The ephemeral Soeur Callot creation slowly rustled, as she looked into the elaborate mirror, on the opposite wall, and saw Christine Stuart Dawson's slightly dilated pupils before the older woman quickly lowered her gaze.
Two days after Spring Soiree all collection containers on the side tables were counted. They were flowing, of checks, and also of warbonds, a large number had been sold, in courtesy of evening´s entertainment.
On the train, Nan was immersed in Tennyson, and triumphant Di, re-read for the tenth time the, signed publishing agreement. Alice, hummed strand of Ivor Novello song, in a soft voice, so curious Di inquired, "Why are you in such a jolly mood? After all we only yesterday said our farewells to Faith, as she along with variable cotillion of lasses of her year boarded on a ship, bound to England. Faith looked so, official in her pressed uniform and small cap, but it is clear that she is following her dream, as soon are we too in our own ways. "
Alice pressed her golden head against Di's shoulder and looking up at the shimmering sky, and verdant fields, as the train jolted along its tracks, she said in a low voice," I feel that returning home feels like the right solution, I have responsibilities there, for a time at least. And I do think that Mum and I have to have few talks, or I will have to try, even if it is hard." Nan glanced over her book at Alice, and she said, "Mumsy´s letters have been full of our Spider recently, and of little Jims. When you can, do visit us at Ingelside, Alice. Gertrude Olivier propably is glad, if you do, as then she has someone other than Di to talk music with!"
At Glen and Lowbridge stations, the Blythe family and the Parker family were waiting for travelers from Redmond with joyful hearts.
A/N: All the songs mentioned in this chapter are, with exception of Bizet – Melons, Coupons, En vain pour éviter, and Bach´s cantana 199, well-known World War I popular tunes, trench songs, or ballads, mostly performed between 1914-1917.