Victoria Holt - The House of a Thousand Lanterns

“No, I was awake. And although it might seem impossible at home in Roland’s Croft, here it could happen.”

“You can’t believe such things.”

“I knew it for Death, Jane. This is no ordinary house. You sense that even as I do. Things could happen here which never would elsewhere. Don’t you sense the secrets, the mystery, the presence of the past?”

“I am going to ask the doctor to give you something to make you sleep soundly. I intend to watch over you, Sylvester.”

He smiled and taking my hand kissed it.

I felt very tender towards him.

* * *

The month of April had come and I thought with nostalgia of spring in England. The daffodils would be blooming in the London parks and I imagined the children with their boats on the Round Pond. Then I was transported straight back to that brief ecstatic period with Joliffe and quite clearly I saw Bella’s face smiling, with the sinister look in her eyes—the messenger of Fate who had come to destroy my happiness at one stroke.

Excitement invaded the house; the servants whispered together. A great occasion was approaching.

Sylvester said to me: “You know what is coming, Jane. It is the Feast of the Dead.”

I felt sick with horror. I remembered this custom from my reading and had forgotten that this was the time of the year it took place.

“It occurs twice yearly,” said Sylvester, “in the spring and in the autumn, but the great occasion is the springtime… now.”

“It’s a morbid custom,” I said.

“Oh no, they don’t make a morbid thing of it. They honor their ancestors. As you know the main force in Chinese life is ancestor worship. Any sin is forgivable in the pursuit of it. Confucius laid down the law that burial and mourning rites are the most important of all duties. “The Chinese adore with a kind of idolatry those who have died. This is the most important occasion of the year therefore—the honoring of the dead.”

The preparations had begun. Throughout the day we would see parties making for the hillside where the burial grounds were situated. Sylvester had told me that such spots were chosen throughout China because the land could not be used for cultivation and there were buried the grandest mandarins and the lowliest peasants.

For days men, women, and children went there to wash the tombs in readiness for the great day. When I rode out with Toby we saw the red and white streamers of paper flying out in the wind. These had been attached to the tombs that all might know they had been cleaned and made ready and that no dead person had been forgotten.

Lottie was among those who made the pilgrimage to the hill. She took food and candles and wrapped herself in coarse cloth.

I shall never forget that day. The house was deserted. All the servants had gone to the hills.

Tobias had taken Jason out on a small pony, for Jason was learning to ride, and Sylvester and I were alone in the house.

How quiet it was apart from the occasional sound of the gongs which came from the mourning processions as they wound their way up to the hillside.

I would be glad when this day was over.

Sylvester had been dressed and sat in his chair. He had become very thin and in the dim light he resembled a skeleton.

How I wished they would not keep sounding those gongs. They reminded me of the knell of the funeral bell. And I was reminded of my bright mother who had been dying and keeping that terrible knowledge from me.

“This is a horrid ceremony,” I said aloud.

“The sadness is brief,” Sylvester replied. “Very soon now the feasting will begin.”

“The feasting!”

“You don’t imagine they will waste all that food they’ve taken up there, do you? They are too practical for that. They have paid honor to the dead, now they will have a banquet of the food they have brought. Up at the hills they will light the lanterns and the wailing will cease. All will sit down for the food will be spread on the tombs and they will eat, as they would tell you, with their ancestors.”

“And tomorrow they will have forgotten?”

“Some forget their dead… others never do.”

We were silent for a while.

Then he said: “Very soon now, Jane, I shall not be here.”

I said vehemently: “Please stop. For so long now you have been almost courting death.”

“I knew He had entered the house, Jane, and I knew for whom He had come.”

“That’s nonsense. You have just seemed to lose the will to live.”

“I lost it because it was taken from me.”

“By whom?”

Then he said a strange thing. “I am not sure.”

“Sylvester, what do you mean?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “In any case, my time has come. It is part of the pattern. I knew what I must do. This house will be yours, Jane, when I am gone.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed gently. “Don’t say that. The house is listening. No one likes to be unwanted. It makes for a loss of face. Yes, I know this is what I must do. This house and this business will be yours, Jane. I have trained you for this. You have the dedication… the serious mind. You are the one and you will train the boy and in time he will be there to take it from you. As for the house… with its secret, I believe that you have found the truth. Fear is in the mind, Jane. That is the answer to the riddle. You will live here in peace.”

I said: “You cannot have left all this to me… a woman.”

“I have always had a great respect for women, you know. And you are my wife. These years with you have been the happiest I have known since I lost Martha to Magnus. You changed everything when you came. And you learned… you learned so quickly. Your pleasure, your enthusiasm, your dedication were my delight.”

I said: “I should not be fit…”

“Nonsense. Who was it who reminded me that anyone could do anything if that one made up his or her mind.”

“You believe that?”

“I do.”

“Then believe that you will get well. You will get well. I will nurse you. I will cook everything for you myself…”

I stopped short, horrified by what I had said. It was as though the house had held its breath and was waiting, it was as though some unknown voice had whispered those words to me.

“It’s too late, Jane,” he said. “The time has come. You will know how to carry on. You will find Toby a good man. A reliable man. Trust Toby. I care for these treasures of mine. I have been a successful businessman with my skillful buying and shrewd selling, but I have loved my merchandise. As you know some things I have kept because I could not bear to part with them. I have covered everything, I believe, taken care of every contingency. It has occurred to me that you may not wish to be alone.”

“What do you mean, Sylvester?” I asked sharply.

“I know you well, Jane. I do not think you are a woman to want to live alone. You may decide to marry.”

“Oh, do not talk of such things. I have a husband who has been good to me.”

“Bless you, Jane. But let us look facts straight in the face. When I am no longer here, you will be lonely. You may need someone. Choose wisely, Jane. Once…” He stopped for I had winced. I knew he was thinking of Joliffe. He went on quickly: “I have, as I said, taken care of possibilities which may occur. Jason is very young. So are you, but if anything should befall you I have appointed Adam as Jason’s guardian until such time as he comes of age. But you, Jane, shall be in command for as long as is possible.”

He was hinting that if I married he would like Adam to be my husband—Adam or perhaps Toby. He trusted Toby absolutely but Adam was his own family. What he was most anxious to do was to keep Joliffe out.

“I want you to be well,” I cried. “I want you in command.”

“You are good to me, Jane,” he said. “You have always been good to me. It has been a good life… on the whole. There was sorrow but I learned to control it and the Chinese say that the more talents are exercised the more they will develop.”

He fell silent and I believed him to be asleep.

I sat beside him and thought back over the past, of the first time we had met and how I had feared that my mother and I would be turned away.

Then the enormity of what he had said swept over me and I would not think of it. I wanted to sit still and listen to the quiet of the house, the sudden distant sound of the gongs from the hillside.

That night Sylvester died in his sleep… the night of the day of the Feast of the Dead. He would have said it was an appropriate time to die.

I had become not only a widow but a rich woman.

It was a time of great activity for me. I had so much to learn; I had to assume a new dignity; I had to convince not only those with whom I did business that I was capable, but myself as well.

Whenever I felt inadequate I would assure myself: Sylvester believed in you. He was certain you could do it.

There were many formalities to be gone through; I spent hours with the lawyers. I was astounded by the extent of Sylvester’s business which I had inherited in a kind of trust for Jason. I was determined to keep that business flourishing not only to convince myself that I could, but for him.

I seemed to grow in stature; I learned to make firm decisions; I understood how to deal with people and preserve a friendly formality. I even began to look forward to new difficulties because I found such satisfaction in overcoming them.