I felt irritated. I hated their talking of me as though I were not there, as though I were some infant whose growth was to be commented on.
"Yes," said my father. "We are celebrating, of course. My wife is as excited as though it were her birthday."
"And when is the great day?"
"In a few days' time. The twenty-first to be precise. I don't know how many are coming. The list is continually being added to."
"I am going to be rather bold. As an old friend of Mrs. Mallory's family ... I am going to ask for an invitation."
"Any friend of Mrs. Mallory is welcome, don't you agree, Ann Alice?"
I was glad he did not wait for an answer, although Desmond Featherstone was looking at me expectantly.
My father went on: "We are hoping that the gods will be kind and give us a warm evening. I am afraid we shall be rather crowded if we are forced to be indoors."
"I am sure the gods will be kind on such an auspicious occasion," said Desmond Featherstone.
I was sitting there exasperated. So he would be at the birthday party. I had an uneasy feeling that he was going to spoil it.
It had been so long since I had thought of him and now he is back again.
When my stepmother returned I could see she was as taken aback by the sight of him as I had been and I thought her greeting was distinctly cool.
"I am in the neighbourhood again," he said, "and I knew you would never forgive me if I did not call."
"For how long?" asked my stepmother, rather tactlessly for her, I thought.
"That depends on business."
My father said: "Mr. Featherstone has promised to come to the party."
"Oh," replied my stepmother quietly.
I was glad when he went.
But somehow I do not feel quite the same.
May 21st
My birthday and the most exciting day I have lived through! How wonderful that it should have happened on my birthday!
The day began rather cloudy and we were in a state of great anxiety lest it should rain. The servants kept running out to gaze at the sky.
I have looked at my dress hanging in the wardrobe at least twenty times during the day. It is the most beautiful dress I have ever had. I had pleaded with my stepmother to let Freddy stay up just for an hour or so and she has agreed, I think with assumed reluctance. She is really fond of Freddy and our affection has made a bond between us— in spite of my resistance.
During the afternoon the skies cleared and everyone was saying that it was going to be fine after all. The wind has dropped and as long as the rain keeps off, they kept saying, it will be perfect for our alfresco party.
My stepmother was in her element, organizing everything. My father looked on with amusement. How he has changed since his marriage! At least my stepmother has made him happy. I am sure he was never quite like this... even when my mother was alive.
The guests arrived. I, my father, my stepmother and Freddy, standing there like a small son of the house, received them.
And what a delight when Magnus arrived in the company of the Masters! He looked so elegant, I thought. How becoming was the more simple mode of dress. I heartily disliked all the affectations which had been introduced by the dandified fops.
The weather was perfect. There was even a moon to make the scene more enchanting and the company soon spilled out onto the lawns and gardens. The food would be served in the hall and dining room and people could take their food out to sit in the garden if they wished.
There was one thing which spoilt it: the presence of Desmond Featherstone. And it seemed to me that he was determined to seek me out.
How happy I was that Magnus was equally determined to stay at my side, and, for my fervent co-operation, we succeeded in foiling Desmond Featherstone's efforts and keeping together.
Freddy went off to bed when he was told to do so. He was a very meek little boy and I guessed was accustomed to doing what he was told without question. I found his gratitude rather pathetic and often wondered what sort of life he had had with my stepmother's sister-in-law.
I never asked because I sensed a certain unhappiness in the boy when I did, and I guessed it was something he wanted to leave behind him.
Of course, as it was my birthday, I had certain duties to the other guests. I had to dance with one or two of my father's friends. Some of them were cartographers of good reputation who had come from some distance to be at the party.
I was able to talk to them about maps in a more knowledgeable way than I ever would have been before—and that was all due to Magnus.
Perhaps I was a little absent-minded, thinking all the time of how I could escape and get back to Magnus; and when I did, there he was waiting for me, as eager to be with me as I was with him.
Then came those magic moments in the rose garden. The scent of the roses was exquisite. I shall always think of that walled garden on the night of the twenty-first of May in the year 1792, for there was enchantment on that night. All through my life I shall remember.
We sat side by side on two of the wicker seats which were against the wall facing the wrought-iron gates into the garden, so that we could immediately be aware of intruders.
In the distance we could hear the sound of violins coming from the house and every now and then we would hear a burst of laughter. The air was soft and balmy.
He took my hands and kissed them.
He said: "As soon as I saw you, I knew."
"So did I."
"It was as though something passed between us ... an understanding. Yes? You for me ... and me for you?"
"That is exactly how it was."
"Life is good. It is rare I believe that there is such harmony."
"It's very precious."
"We will keep it so."
"Magnus," I said, "what is going to happen? It is not your home here."
"No," he answered. "I am here for a year... perhaps longer. Then I go home."
"A year," I said happily. "A year for us to be together."
"And then," he went on, "you will come home with me. We shall marry."
"And live happily ever after... It's like a fairy story."
"We shall have many children. They will work with us. They will explore the world. It is a good life."
"I am so happy," I said. "I don't think anyone could ever have had a happier eighteenth birthday."
He was silent for a while. Then he said: "We will go together to find my island."
"Oh yes. The island. I have often felt you wanted to tell me about that."
"Let me tell you now. This beautiful garden seems the place for it. I have wanted to talk to you about it for so long. It is like a dream sometimes. I could believe I had imagined it."
"Tell me. I long to know."
He hesitated for a moment and then began: "I had been with the expedition, charting the seas. We were sure there were many more islands than those known to us and we wanted to find them. I believe I found one. I am sure of it. But let me tell you. We were cruising in the Pacific ... coming from the Sandwich Islands where Captain Cook had been clubbed to death by the natives just ten years or so before. How can I describe to you what it is like to be at sea, perhaps sailing where men have never sailed before? Captain Cook had discovered so much that I used to be afraid that there was nothing more for me to find."
"Tell me about the island you discovered."
"Yes, I want you to know. I want us both to go in search of it. I shall never be completely content until T have found it again ... and I want you to be with me when I do."
I put my hand out to touch his cheek and he caught it and kissed it again and again.
"You will feel as I do," he went on. "You will feel the call of the sea. It is here for mankind to explore ... to tame, to use for himself. How fortunate we are to be born on this Earth. But I want to tell you about my island."