One day, in early February Thompson knocked on the door of Primrose Hollow, delighted, Faith accepted certain stained package wrapped in crumbling paper. Thompson raised his hat, and said calmly in his dry manner. "Mr. Dorian, requested that I deliver this only to your hands, Miss Meredith." After her lectures, Faith enthusiastically sat in the living room, and sewed precise black sutures, all over raw pork shoulder. Di sat next to Faith, she too sewed her own line of stitches, as deftly she switched hands, gracefully, consulting a book that Faith had unearthed from Redmond's libraries.
Teapot whistled, and Alice calmly placed tea service on the table pretty bone-china cups that were decorated with little violets, glancing at Nan, she quietly remarked in her polite unassuming style, "Because Di is practicing stitches with Faith doesn't necessarily mean she's leaving." Nan lifted her chin and said curtly in her sweetly proud way, "Alice, will you bring jam?" A shadow flickered across Alice's face, and for a moment Nan imagined Alice was about to say something, but then she just turned sharply towards kitchen cupboard and left the room. There was a rustle and a swish from the kitchen area, and soon Alice returned with a small tray containing Marilla's plum jam in a jar. Laughing merrily, Di and Faith arrived at the tea table, and Nan smiled openly as she heard Di declare, "Faith, I think you'll shine abroad, for you're not squemish at all, and with your determination and energy you'll conquer all the tough Matrons at the training program."
Faith fingered her necklace, and with a steady hand accepted the jar of plum jam, and said in her sunny and practical style. "Maybe so, but we all have a lot to do this spring term before I or if can get into VAD program." Faith's golden-brown eyes surveyed living room, dominated by sheets and craft baskets and piles of paper and books. Di grinned, folding her draft essay for Perennial out of the way of the teapot. Fresh aroma of carrot bread combined with the scent of casserole, for a certain reason, casseroles had been eaten often recently at Primrose Hollow.
Sky and the earth were the same shade, a shimmering milky white with a slight steely tinge, like powdered sugar. Bitter cold rattled the branches of the trees in garden of Primrose Hollow. The birches and yews had put on a light white veil, which in a certain light looked like molten silver, Nan pondered as she happened looking out the window. Llight worry in her heart, as always Nan focused on reading Jerry's letter, that had arrived with afternoon post.
Somewhere in Western front, January 1917
Nan,
It's barrack life here, I got your Christmas package, I shared some of the goodies among my comrades, but I also saved some for myself. I'm wearing your sweater, and sometimes I touch Celtic patterns you knitted into scarf, and I think about hours you spent making this which were away from your other chores, and duties, but you know, I'm grateful for your sacrifice, your love, and your affection shows, it in every thread.
With reference to your last letter, in which you observed that this present war, in the midst of which I am, would be a continuation, of some former enmity, is perceptive, as your observations are always. I've seen all kinds things here and someday maybe I can talk about it, now I can't.
You wrote about your longing for your brother, and I've tried to think of comforting words, or quotes that might help, but in the end the only right way is to remember a conversation I had with Walter. For you know he was the most religious, in his own way, of all the Ingelside children, and sometimes we would sit on Sundays after my father's sermon in the empty Glen church and talk, about theology, and all sorts of different religions and beliefs. And did you know Nan, Walter was remarkably open-minded in his own theology, admittedly a staunch Presbyterian, like me, but he had a knack for seeing wider connections, and especially the concept of grace and love was very important to him personally. And by chance I met him, day before I left Glen, you know those bright bright days as clouds seem to float, Walter was leaning against a handsome silver willow by the road, I passed him, and Walter looked at me fixedly, and attentively penetrating, as was his wont, and he said quietly, "Jerry, do your duty, but stay safe if you can, for my sister's heart beats for you. Perhaps I too may follow you, sooner or later to those plains where no green grass grows, or wild poppies, and herbs, but the hum of weapons, mud, earth, and the cries of men." I confess to you now, that my soul was chilled by his words. I think your brother had some precognition, though you never told me about it, and why would you? His words are imprinted on my mind deeper than my father's last words, in his study, but not as bright as our moments together, sometimes I hear your laugh and in sleepless nights I imagine you toiling in Primrose Hollow, or shining in Redmond, sitting in the biblical silence of the library shelves, and the light of the stained glass windows makes a colorful halo around your dark head. Write to me as often as you can. Your serious, enchanting letters, full of small pieces of your own universe, your everyday life, a life that is something other than the avalanche here.
With all my love.
G
Ps. If you can put a small photo in your next letter. I want to look at you in your glory, but don't scrub the ink stains off your fingers.
Nan took a shuddering breath, held back tears seemed to burn her throat as she carefully folded Jerry's letter into stained envelope where it barely fit. Nan slipped letter into drawer of her dresser where all of Jerry's letters were tied with different colored silk ribbons. Carefully Nan went through her papers, but there was no suitable spare photograph to be found. Sparkling music echoed faintly from downstairs and with irritated sight Nan went to living room. Atmospheric, melancholy, and folksy Dvorak shone, again. A hauntingly melancholic yet bright note shimmered, like a modified waltz note, and feeling calmer, Nan sat down to listen, as she wrapped her arms around her and Alice were in the middle of third song, of Dvorak´s seven song cycle, which had something to do with forests, and sadness, or so Di had once explained to Nan in passing.
A les je tichý kolem kol,
jen srdce mír ten ruší,
a černý kouř, jenž spěchá v dol,
mé slze v lících, mé slze suší.
Však nemusí jich usušit,
necht' v jiné tváře bije.
Kdo v smutku může zazpívat,
ten nezhynul, ten žije, ten žije!
Alice's voice glowed in the background, her Czech vowels clean, without false accents, like sweet, dark honey that, if you weren't careful, it was so was easy to drown in it. Quietly Di let Dvorak's notes die down, and shaking her hands she said gravely looking at Nan "Nan, thank you for your patience while Alice and I have been polishing this set of songs, for the last few weeks. I think we will soon be able to perform it as we were asked to do so." Curious, Nan inquired, "Do tell, dearest Di? Does this have anything to do with the upcoming February Soirees at Gardiner Hall, if it is held this year?" Di looked at Nan and said quietly, "This request has nothing to do with any of the Gardiners. Professor Milne, has taken a fancy to Bohemian literature, of late. Quite understandable, given newspaper headlines of last month, so he wanted us to practice this, and so we have done. I do not know whether Milne and Redmond's Broad of Trustees will arrange any occasion, but if they do it is none of our business, but that too shall aid Allied cause, all funded with Bluenose money, naturally as it so often the case here. "
Evening wore on slowly, all was still and quiet in Primrose Hollow. Flickering candle light fell on Dorian's soft purple orchid, which was in front of the window-ledge of livingroom where the most light might caress it.
In upstairs, Alice's room, a faint candlelight shone on the mirror of the dressing table, it flickered like a bright, quivering point in the middle of the gloom. Di inquired a little mischievously, sitting on Alice's bed, "I suppose your correspondence can wait a little longer?" Alice, glancing at the small pile of letters, nodded and stood up stretching and whispering quietly, " Di, if you want to apply for the VAD training yourself, do that. I think that's a great idea and I think you have a good chance of getting in. The only problem I see is that your Redmond studies are still in progress, but I'm sure there will be a solution for that too. That is, if it's something you really want."
A little taken aback, Di glanced at Alice who smiled lightly and said "I know you Diana Blythe, you want to think things through before committing, and you have your reasons for going 'over there.' Those reasons are not the same as the sparklingly energetic Faith´s but they are equally valid. Maintaining memories is very consuming. And I think, I know, if you get into training program you will be satisfied, maybe not happy, because the work is exhausting, if I understand correctly and hard, not romantic, but practical. There is always exchange of letters, they may arrive with a delay, but they go through."
Alice found herself suddenly on her back on her bed, as her embroidered pillows were flying to the floor in carefree arcs, and light thumps. Quickly Alice found herself glad, that she had cleaned up earlier in the day, and then Alice felt Di's hand gently caress her neck, as Di whispered quietly in her ear, "Thank you, but I'm not on the other side of Europe yet, so we have time, and there's no need for coded letters, for now."
On the dressing table, candle went out, its smoke hid in its shadow, quiet whispers and light, happy and joyous laughter.
Nan outlined her monthly letter to Ingelside. Suddenly silence of Primrose Hollow was broken by Di's delighted laughter, it seemed to echo from Alice's room. Frowning and biting her lip, Nan touched a small stack of books, socially critical essays, and tracts, which Dorian Gardiner had recommended to her, his green eyes twinkling with light humor. For it was so that, ever since that January tea-time at Primrose Hollow, Nan had found herself spending time after her own lectures in a cafe where Dorian also had his own corner, and a constant subscription to his family's account.
As the days passed, Nan noticed that Dorian was well read, and his casual dreamy resemblance to Walter dissipated, in Nan's mind, and Dorian began to become a friend, a platonic one. Nan finally understood why first Walter, and then Di and Alice hung out with the Gardiner heir. For he could appear as foppish as salon lions in some Wildean works, but that was only the surface. Dorian was multifaceted, but also direct, and touchingly naive. At times he seemed younger than his age. Dorian didn't have Jerry's fire, conviction, or drive, and while Nan and Dorian's conversations were interesting, they lacked something, Nan found herself missing Jerry terribly. Often Dorian and Nan discussed literature and politics, and almost without realizing it, Nan got a crash course in the mindset of Bluenose circles. Week ago, Dorian had arrived at the corner café almost brimming with frustaration, Di had been by his side, as they had been in Perennial meeting, almost unnoticed, Di had slipped away, leaving behind an empty teacup, and a light scent of lily of the valley perfume. Dorian had explained to Nan in his exuberant style, italics in almost every word, "There are a lot of things I can't do until I'm of age. I want to make the world a better place , if only I could figure out how. Wealth is not an automatic path to happiness, as many people imagine. It is true that my family's name helps Perennial magazine, but as this war has dragged on, my Papa´s business negotiations have also become more difficult, as some of foreing investors are freaking out. Papa is good at it what he does, but there are lines that he doesn't cross either, hopefully." Nan had tasted excellent tea, and little bebe cakes, and pointedly remarked, "And is this why the February ball is so important? It is occasion to show that Gardiner name still carries weight?" Dorian had smiled sarcastically, and raised his teacup, as if parodying the raising of a toast.
Shaking her head, and brushing her rich, hazel hair out of a carefree braid, Nan put her now finished letter aside, with soft steps, Nan got up, and once again looked for a photograpf in her desk drawers. In the end, she ended up pulling out a shot from an green covered album, taken in past summer. In it she was sitting on the porch steps of Ingelside in her rose-red dress, a volume of Tennyson's poems open on her knees, a flower wreath twined in her hair, and her fingers had a few, ink stains, as requested by Jerry. Nan smiled, as she glanced at the picture and slipped it between a clean sheets of paper. Nan opened creaking door of the common wardrobe, and eyed clothes that hung there like silent promises.
Nan straightened some of Di's dresses that were hanging askew, and next to them was something, a a waterfall of pearl gray fabric that wasn't a dress. Surprised, Nan touched the soft fabric, and sat down on her bed with stiff, numb legs. That kind of fashion had been known for years, in Continent and elsewhere too, but Nan would never have believed that Di could, no one in the Glen ever did. But this was Kingsport, and Redmond, and so little more metropolitan in effect. Nan closed her eyes, and she remembered Di's happy, delighted lightness, as her heart ached.
When Di tiptoed in their room in small hours, she found, that Nan was still awake, and sitting cross-legged on her own bed. Nan said in a serious, pleading, unyielding tone, "Di, can we talk?" Shadows shimmered in the room, and with difficulty Di nodded. The moment she had been waiting for for days had arrived. Cautiously, Di said, "Nanlet, I've decided to apply for VAD training in the spring as well, I'm sure Ingelside will agree, because ever since fall I've been feeling so inadequate, and useless. And this way I can be useful, imagine that even at this moment, someone's Jerry or Walter, may need care that only VAD nurses can give them. Besides, as you know, I've always been most practical of Ingelside girls, even Dads and Susan can both admit it, at least sometimes." Out of breath, Di fell silent, as silence fell over room.
Finally, Nan said in a slightly trembling voice, "Was that all Di? Don't you have something else on your mind that you might want to talk about, something that might be Alice-related, perhaps? I happened to found out that there is very dressy gray suit that has appeared in your wardrobe, as if brought by fairies?"
A blush rose to Di's cheeks, she barely managed to keep her voice calm as she replied "Wearing trousers and a pair of shirtwaist is not a crime. I've found recently that that I like suits, as they suit me very well, or so I have heard. As for Alice Nan, I have noticed that you are polite towards her, but in the same way when we were children, and you tried to protect me from disappointments. But I'm not ten anymore, and neither are you. So please give Alice a chance, she might surprise you. I can tell you in confidence that I am so happy right now, despite current situation in war-torn Europe. It's as if I've found a secret door, a door that has been covered with ivy, and when I step through it, I'm no longer alone, and I get answers to unspoken, unarticulated questions, sometimes."
Nan looked at Di seriously, and said quietly, "Di, not everyone living under the same roof can be kindred spirits, that would be impossible, but I can try, for you. I know that both you and Walter, and naturally Dorian also, all adore her, in different ways, but I just cant see why. I grant, she is pretty, but there are prettier girls all over. There is something in Alice that rubs me in the wrong way. I can´t articulate it, but it is there, that aloofness. It seems kind of front, like Irene and her sweetness, so I remain wary, still. And as for that secret ivy door of yours, it seems that perhaps you've read Burnett's stories, or does Dorian's Aunt Dorothy´s townhouse have a garden? Next time she organizes something, I might try to get my own invitation, because every time you come back, you both, seem relaxed and smiling. Perhaps servings are quite exemplary."
A slightly forced chuckle echoed through the twins' room, as Di said laboriously, "I think you'd find Aunt Dorothy's meetings a little boring. Imagine Laidies Aid meetings in Glen, but on a slightly larger scale. A roomful of people, and all arguing about different subjects and things, and Aunt Dorothy trying to get some order, without success. Last time someone spilled wine on the silk sofa, and it was quite a mess." Nan said in a gentle conciliatory tone, "Alice and you love to sew, more than Faith or I do, so no wonder you're relaxed when you come back from there. Do you think that we be invited to February ball, Di?" Di's answer was a bit sleepy, "Probably, God knows, there is enough room, in that place."
A new day dawned, milky gray. On the other side of Kingsport, in a restaurant, the candles glowed, they brought a little brightness to the rush of lunchtime, waiters roamed room, and elaborate paintings on the walls shimmered in the shimmering light. Royal Gardiner and Christine Stuart-Dawson sat in silence, the conversation of the other diners ebbing and falling like the tide. Christine glanced at Roy, who was sitting across from her, and remarked, "Kingsport is so small and sad after splendor of Paris. Despite war, one can live there quite comfortably. The national sentiment is at its peak. Why don't you travel there for a couple of months to take care of businesses? That way you would get perspective, and maybe you could even get to the front, or at least get close to see what the situation really is? Few of my friends have done so, and the tales that they tell are quite gruesome. Instead of spending your time on local committees and drinking Gardiner Hall's or your club's cognac stock empty. Dear old friend, you've always been practical, usually."
Roy glanced at Christine quietly, and said calmly, "Your proposal sounds very delicious, but my duties keep me here for now." Christine waved her manicured hand, in a light carefree fashion, and said mockingly, "Your duty, would be to secure your son's future safety with proper investments, preferably overseas, and not sit around Redmond's Broad of Trustees meetings, dreaming about some slip of a girl who will perform at some inferior Redmond music recital. Roy, that behavior of yours is so ridiculous, if it weren't so typical, and worn out. Why you men never think with your brains. In any case, I have emptied my social calendar, so I am available to you, as a companion, it that is something you desire? There is also soon-upcoming February Ball. My dearest Adeline told me about the arrangements yesterday, they are going smoothly, like a slinky minuet."
The waiter brought small cups of freshly ground coffee, and Christine smiled at the young man, approvingly, and said in a light, slightly mischievous tone, "But being here has its own charm, for Kingsport is home after all, and there are compensations."
Roy sighed, and paid the bill.
A little later, as they walked streets of Kingsport hand in hand, leaning on each other, like old lovers they never were, Christine remarked, "Ah, there's that gazebo, how shabby it looks, in wintertime, but in summer it must still be a paradise of romance, all shaded of verdant greenery, and pairs of sweethearts cuddling there in privacy." Suddenly Roy found himself tired of Christine's subtle teasing, as he glanced towards that place, where once his dreams had been dashed into jagged pieces, by a pair of greenish-grey eyes.
A quiet, expectant hum filled grand concert hall of the Redmod Musical Association as the last chords of soulful Mahler´s Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen slowly faded away, pure melancholy rhythm of oboes and violins, into stillness that was as sudden as it was heartbreaking.
On the stage in a circle of lights, Alice Parker stood, in her bluish dress, Di Blythe next to her, wearing a gray suit. Slowly, like a great dam, silence gradually broke, and applause rained down. Professor Milne came on stage with a small smile of satisfaction on his face, as he turned to the girls and said quietly, "One of my better ideas, thank you for agreeing to do this evening. This was an unheard of success, and although I doubted that Mahler worked, but it did, seamlessly."
Afterwards, Alice felt Di's soft happy laughter in her ears, as Di had stood on empty stage with Nan and Faith next to her. Dorian pressed roses to her and to Di's arms, their scent had been almost too cloying. And so, with a smile Alice had slipped away to gather some peace, in far- reaches of the library. All was still, and peacefull, and there only was scent of leather-bound books. Then Alice heard a cultured soft voice say, "Miss Parker, performing can be quite an all-encompassing and enlightening experience, music is always divine. I had my doubts about you, but now I must admit I was wrong." A dark haired woman in a blue walking suit stepped out of the shadows, looking at Alice in an amused, but distant manner, as she continued "but if you want to improve you need to study music, maybe in Paris when this war ends. I can give you some contacts if you want?"
Alice met Christine Stuart-Dawson's dark blue gaze and inquired "Why do you do this, Madame? For I do not think such random musical charity is in your nature, if stories I that have heard are true."
Christine smiled, and looking intently at her fingernails as she she replied in languid manner. "Despite what dear little Dorothy Gardiner may have told you, I happen to love music above all else, and thus one of my aims is to help musical people if I can. And fortunately I have the means and contacts to do so. And you, you're really talented. There are other reasons that aren't directly related to you. Think about, it my dear."
Slowly Alice turned as a familiar long fingered hand slipped into hers and Di said in her amused way. " There you are, I have been looking for you, quite some time. Primrose Hollow is waiting. There are hot tea to be had, your throat might be quite hoarse after all that singing, two different programs in one night, that was a lot. And my fingers are aching, a little too, as neither of us are professionals in this field of musical entertaiment. This evening was worth a little pain, for Allied cause. Faith and Nan are already on their way. Madeline has already left too, apparently she had an appointment, with someone."
Week or so later now familiar, jasmine-scented invitations written in clean, beautiful calligraphy arrived on the Primrose Hollow hall carpet with a clatter. Mademoiselles of Primrose Hollow, are most cordially invited to Traditional February Ball, at Gardiner Hall.