Cousin Ellen arrived with her two daughters the day before the wedding. She was so pleased that I was to be married; and she talked with less restraint than I remembered, recalling incidents of the past. It was rather pleasant. She remembered so much. She reminded me of one incident which I had not thought of for a long time.

“Do you remember Tom Jennings … the young man who fell from the ladder?”

“Oh yes. He broke his leg.”

“I shall never forget the sight of you, kneeling there beside him. All you did was stroke his forehead and speak soothingly to him and you seemed to comfort him.”

I spread my hands and looked at them.

“My ayah said I had healing hands.”

“They have those ideas out there, I suppose.”

“There was a boy in Bombay. I did the same for him. That was when she noticed.”

“Perhaps you should be a nurse.”

I was thoughtful.

“Do you know … I think I should rather like that.”

Ellen laughed.

“Thank goodness there is no question of it! You are going to marry .. very well. We are ever so pleased. Nursing is considered hardly suitable for a lady … one of the lowest, professions … like soldiering.”

“You are talking to a soldier’s daughter.”

“Oh, of course I didn’t mean men like your father. I mean the common soldier. Why do they go into it? Because they are unemployable at anything else … or they have been in trouble. And they say nurses are much the same.”

“That seems terrible,” I said.

“Isn’t protecting one’s country a noble thing. Isn’t nursing the sick?”

“It should be, but so much which should be is not. But why waste time discussing such things when there is so much to be done, so much to arrange. You must be in a whirl.”

There was certainly a great deal to do but the conversation had brought back memories. I looked at my hands, well shaped, very white; there was a certain delicacy about the long tapering fingers, and yet they had a strength. I smiled at them. They were my only real beauty.

And so the time passed.

It was the night before my wedding. Everything was in order. My father had arrived at Humberston and was sleeping in one of the little bedrooms along the corridor. Ellen and her family were in two more.

The rectory was full to overflowing. And beyond the churchyard, Aubrey was sleeping in the Black Boar.

I went to bed and then I had the dream. the dream which was to set me pondering on what could have conjured it up in my imagination.

Honeymoon in Venice

So Aubrey and I were married.

As soon as the ceremony was over I changed into my green gaberdine travelling suit and we set out on our honeymoon.

‘ What a marvelous experience it was! My doubts and fears vanished.

All my qualms disappeared. Aubrey was wonderful. He was such a man of the world and he understood that I was completely innocent which of course means ignorant.

He was so much aware of my inexperience and he treated me with such gentleness and loving tenderness that, whatever happened afterwards, I would always remember it.

Gently he initiated me into the art of love-making and I have to admit that I took to it with relish, discovering in my nature traits which I had not before known existed.

This was love and it was wonderful. I saw a new Aubrey. He was a man who understood women their feelings and their needs. He seemed to have forgotten the disappointment of the lost inheritance; he made me feel that the only thing that mattered was our love for each other and that everything around us should be perfect. And there was I indulging in the delights of married love in surely the most romantic setting in the world.

The Palazzo Tonaletti looked out on to the canal and we could sit on the veranda and watch the gondolas go past. How beautiful they were and especially so in the evenings when the gondoliers sang to their passengers as their craft shot under the bridges.

The Palazzo itself was splendid, with its tower at either end and its arches and long veranda. I was impressed by the mosaic patterns on the marble-paved floors. Servants had been donated with the house and we were looked after in very grand style. There was a solemn major-domo in charge of the household who told us we might call him Benedetto; there were numerous maids who giggled a great deal because, I think, they knew we were on our honeymoon. Our bedroom was a lovely apartment with walls and floor of mottled marble in an attractive shade of purple. There were lamps of alabaster; and the bed was large with a canopy of lavender and green silk.

In the mornings one of the maids would bring in our breakfast murmuring: “Colazione, Signore, Signora.” And then she would hurry away as though she could no longer suppress her mirth, I presumed, at the sight of us in bed together.

We walked through the streets lapped by the waters of the canals; we drank coffee and the occasional aperitif in St. Mark’s Square. We stood on the Rialto Bridge and watched the gondoliers on the Grand Canal. I had never seen such a beautiful city. I was completely fascinated.

Aubrey knew Venice well and took a great delight in explaining everything to me. It all comes back to me in flashes Aubrey standing beside me, pointing out the wonders of the Campanile which the people of Venice had begun to build as early as the year 902, although it had been completed much later. I marvelled at the Clock Tower and the two bronze figures on the dial of the clock which struck the hours. There was so much that was beautiful and yet even in those cloudless days I was aware of the contrasts. The beautiful palazzos with red porphyry, alabaster and coloured marble looking like coconut ice or some such confectionery; the Doges’ Palace with all its grandeur, and close by, the Bridge of Sighs which conveyed the despair and hopelessness of those who passed over it knowing they would never set eyes on Venice again.

There was a gaiety in the streets near the canals, but there were narrow alleys, too, which could be dark and sinister. When I pointed this out to Aubrey, he said: “That is life. Wouldn’t it be dull if everything was good and sweet?”

“Why should it be?”

“Because you would never know how good it was if you did not have evil with which to compare it.”

“I think I should.”

“But the rest of the world is not as wise as my Susanna.”

Together we saw beautiful pictures Titian, Tintoretto and the Bellinis. He was knowledgeable about art and he revealed so much to me. I was learning not only about love but the world.

They were strange dreamlike days; they cast a spell over me and I believed then that now I was married to Aubrey, life would go on like this always.

I was young; I was innocent; and all around me was evidence of life.

One morning, when we strolled along, we saw a crowd at the side of the canal; and when we investigated we discovered that a man’s body had been brought out of the water that morning. I saw him lying there, his eyes open, staring in horror; his face was the colour of a grubby sheet and there was blood on his clothes from the knife wound in his back.

Aubrey drew me quickly away.

That incident coloured the whole morning. Aubrey said: “It happens now and then. These are a hot-blooded people.”

But I knew I could never pass the spot without thinking of that man.

That was Venice. Dark, sinister alleyways where people met their enemies and knives flashed . and then the sound of a body falling into the water; the beautiful sunlit city with its confectionery palazzos and its singing gondoliers; the Doges’ Palace and the Bridge of Sighs and the indescribable tortures which had been carried out in the prison adjoining them.

But this was my honeymoon. I would not think gloomy thoughts. This was being married to the man I loved. This was happiness.

I was fascinated by the little shops and would spend hours browsing in them. Sometimes I would leave Aubrey in the square where he might be sipping an aperitif while I lingered in the shops. He laughed at the fascination they had for me. They certainly did not appeal to him in the same way.

I loved the cleverly wrought bracelets and necklaces in semi-precious stones, the embroidered handkerchiefs and slippers, the silk scarves and fichus.

I said I must take some gifts home for my father, for Amelia and for Stephen.

“I shall leave all that to you,” said Aubrey.

“You are the shopper.”

I was going to enjoy searching for what I believed would please them.

The days were rushing past. We had only another week, I realized to my dismay.

We had taken our morning walk and come back to the square where we would sit in the sunshine and drink a cup of coffee which we had made a habit of doing in the midmorning. We were making our way to a table under a blue-striped sunshade where we could watch the passers-by and the pigeons fluttering down, waiting for people to throw crumbs to them.

While we were drinking our coffee, a man and woman came by. I thought they looked vaguely familiar and then I recognized them.

The woman had stopped.

“Why, it’s Aubrey,” she said.

“And … Miss Pleydell.”

Aubrey stood up.

“Phyllis. Willie …”

Phyllis and Willie! I had not heard their Christian names before as far as I remembered, but I knew them as Captain and Mrs. Freeling.

Mrs. Freeling talked breathlessly.

“What on earth … Well, fancy .. and here of all places … and what are you doing in Venice?”

“We’re having a honeymoon.”