Виктория Холт - On the Night of the Seventh Moon

Marriage had been a blessing for her. And for me? I believed it would be the same. The black arrived. Aunt Matilda was not pleased with Amelia’s hat; her own, with its jet brooch and dead black satin ribbons, was a triumph. There were the wreaths which caused great consternation lest they should arrive too late. Aunt Matilda could not bear the thought of her sister’s being :y carried to her last resting-place without the “Gates of Heaven , Ajar’ which she and Albert were contributing. In our little drawing-room the coffin stood on trestles; there was a funereal smell throughout the house. The blinds were drawn in all rooms and our little maid had gone home to her mother because she couldn’'t face spending the nights alone in the |j house with the dead.

At last the day arrived. The solemn black-clad, top-hatted men walking beside the black-velvet caparisoned horses provided mournful solemnity, and the necessary pall of gloom had been arranged even to Aunt Matilda’s complete satisfaction.

Then back to the rooms over the shop to partake of funeral meats. Cold ham. Aunt Matilda said, was a necessity. At one funeral she had been given cold chicken, which in her opinion showed a certain levity out of keeping with the occasion.

The evening came.

T should stay here one more night,” said Aunt Matilda. So I did; and in my little room that night, I thought: I should marry Anthony.

Just as I had almost made up my mind something happened to make me hesitate.

Ellen, our little maid, came back after the funeral looking very thoughtful. She was absent-minded and during the second day I asked if there was anything wrong.

“Oh, Miss Helena,” she said, “I don’t know whether or not to tell you.”

“Well, if you think it would help you.

“Oh, it’s not me, miss. It’s you.”

“What do you mean, Ellen?”

“It’s you and the vicar, and I don’t believe it and I don’t think I should repeat it but perhaps you ought to know. I’m sure it’s just wicked gossip.”

“Do tell me.”

“Well my mum had it from someone who had been in their shop and she said there was a lot of people there and they were all saying it was shocking and that the vicar ought to be told.

“But what, Ellen?”

“I hardly like to say, miss. They’re saying that when you went away all that time it was because you was in trouble and that you had a baby.”

I stared at her.

Who said this, Ellen? “

“It started with them Miss Elkingtons. They said they saw you there . and it was clear and you was coming out of some hospital.”

I remembered it all so clearly: the little street; the exultation I had felt because my child would soon be born; four curious monkey-like eyes regarding me intently.

“It’s nonsense, I know, miss. But I thought you ought to know.”

“Oh yes,” I said.

“I ought to know. You did right to tell me.”

“Well, there’s nothing to it but gossip. I know that, miss. So does anybody who knows you. Them Miss Elkingtons is terrible gossips. My mum says that’s what they`’ve got a shop for. Miss, when you get married, you’ll be wanting someone up there and as I know your ways . I said: ” I’ll remember, Ellen. “

I wanted to get to my room and think.

Of course, I said to myself, I can’t marry Anthony. The Elkingtons would always be there to gossip. What a horrible sordid story! I had gone abroad to have a child . No, we could not live that down.

Like Caesar’s wife, the vicar’s must be beyond reproach.

I told Anthony what Ellen had told me.

He brushed it aside.

“My dear, we’d live that down.”

“But it’s true. I was pregnant when they saw me and it was obvious. I did have a child.”

“My dear Helena, that’s in the past.”

“I know and with you I should be building the house on the rock. But it’s not fair to you. A scandal like that could ruin your career. It could prevent your progress.”

“I’d rather have a wife than a bishopric.”

“I might fail you.” I frowned. I remembered the emotions Maximilian had stirred in me during that night in the mist. I remembered the slow turning of the door handle. If the door had opened, what then? I believed that I should have found him irresistible. What if by some miracle he came back? I feared that so strong would be my feelings for him that he would have the power to wreck that house-built on a rock though it might be.

Again I took refuge in prevarication.

“I must think,” I said.

“This has changed things in a way.” He wouldn’`t agree, but I insisted.

It was at this time that I decided to write down what had happened to me in order that I might come to some conclusion as to what actually occurred on the Night of the Seventh Moon. But I must confess that when I came to this point I was no nearer the truth than I had been before.

I put the account away so that I would always have a record of it and as the years passed I could re-live that time of my life in detail.

But it was not long after this that I again stepped into that fantastic world, and then I made up my mind that I would write down my adventures as they happened so that they would be clear and precise. I wanted the plain truth undistorted by time.

So when I once more arrived in the Lokenwald I started to record my adventures as soon as they began to happen.

With Aunt Caroline dead, life became calmer, giving one greater opportunity for reflection. How peaceful it was! I would hear Ellen singing as she worked. The days were full; I worked regularly at the bookshop which I found very interesting. When I was not working there I was helping with church affairs; but the Elkingtons had spoilt that for me and I was always apprehensive about meeting them. So I gave my attention to the shop and it was there that I encountered Frau Graben.

She came in one day-a comfortable, plump, middle-aged woman with streaks of grey in her wispy hair which escaped from under a plain felt hat. She was dressed in a rather dowdy brown and grey check travelling coat over a skirt of the same material. I was talking to Amelia and she made straight for us.

She said in a halting English with an accent which made my heart beat faster: “You will help me. Vot I want iss.

I immediately spoke to her in German and the effect was miraculous.

Her plump face lighted up, her eyes shone and she answered volubly in her own language. In the space of a few minutes she told me that she was visiting England and that she spoke very little English-both of which facts were fairly obvious and that she wanted a little book which would help her to understand the language.

I took her along to the German section in the foreign department, telling her that I had a phrase book she would find useful and I thought that a dictionary would be of great help.

She made the purchases and thanked me, but seemed loath to go and as we were not busy I was quite happy to talk with her.

She had arrived only a few days ago in England and had come to Oxford because a friend of hers had been educated there. She wanted to see the place of which she had heard so much. Was she enjoying England? I asked. Yes, was the answer but the language barrier was a difficulty.

She felt lonely and she could not tell me how wonderful it was to find someone who could talk to her as I could.

I found myself explaining to her that my mother was German and that she used to talk to me in her native tongue, and that I had been educated in a Damenstift near Liecbtenkinn.

The joy in her face was expressive. But that was wonderful. She knew the Damenstift well. It was not so far from where she lived. This was better than ever.

After half an hour she left, but the next day she was back again and made a further purchase. Again she stayed to talk.

She looked so wistful when she was about to walk out of the shop that I asked her to tea next day.

She arrived at the expected time and I took her into the little sitting-room which seemed so much more gay now that Aunt Caroline was dead. Ellen brought in the tea and some cakes which she had made. They weren’`t up to Aunt Caroline’s standards, but neither of us cared for that.

The conversation was exciting, because Frau Graben knew the forest well. She told me that she lived in a small schloss perched on the mountainside and here she was the Schlossmutter. She was in charge of the household and was the children’s chief nurse. She was indeed the mother. She proudly told me that she was responsible for the management of the schloss.

The children to whom she referred with affection were Dagobert, Fritz and Liesel.

“Whose children are they?” I asked.

“They’re the Count’s.”

I felt dizzy with an excitement which had grown greater ever since I had met Frau Graben.

“Count ?” I reiterated.

“Well,” she said, ‘he’s the Duke’s nephew and a gay young gentleman he is, too. Many people thought he was mixed up in his father’s plotting.

But now Count Ludwig has gone there’s still my lord Count and no one can be sure what he might be up to. “

“What of the Countess?”

“She’s a suitable wife for him and they have one son.”

“I thought you said there were three children?”

“I’m not actually in the Count’s household. I have nothing to do with that son.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“You know how it is.