“There is nothing to confide. Now Margot, you must work harder at your English, otherwise there is no point in your being here. You might as well be in your father’s chateau.”
“I am not like you, Minelle. I do not pretend.”
“We are not discussing our respective characters but the need for work.”
“Oh, Minelle, you are the most maddening creature! I wonder Joel likes you. I do really.”
“Who said he does?”
“I do. Marie does, so does Sybil. And I reckon everyone says so. You can’t ride out as often as you do with a young man without people’s noticing. And they draw their conclusions.”
Then that is extremely impertinent of them. “
“They won’t let him marry you, Minelle.”
I felt cold with fear and it was not of Joel or myself that I was thinking, but of my mother.
“It’s funny, really …”
She began to laugh. It was one of those occasions when she alarmed me.
Her laughter grew uncontrollable and when I took her by the shoulders she started to cry. She leaned against me and clung to me, her slender body shaking with sobs.
“Margot, Margot,” I cried.
“What’s wrong?”
But I could get no sense out of her.
We had snow in November. It was one of the coldest in memory. Maria and Sybil could not come down from the Manor to the schoolhouse and we had very small classes. We were hard put to it to keep the house warm, and although we kept log fires burning in every room, the bitter east wind seemed to penetrate every crack. My mother caught what she called ‘one of her colds’. She suffered from them every winter so at first we took little notice of this one. But it persisted and I made her stay in bed while I kept the school going. So many pupils stayed away that it was not as difficult as it might have been.
She started to cough in the night and as she grew worse I thought I should call a doctor, but she wouldn’t hear of it. It would cost too much, she said.
“But it is necessary,” I said.
“There’s the dower.”
She shook her head. So I delayed for several days but when she grew feverish and delirious I asked the doctor to come. She had congestion of the lungs, he said.
This was a serious illness-by no means one of the winter colds. I shut the school and gave myself up to nursing her.
These were some of the most unhappy days I had yet known. To see her lying there, propped up with pillows, her skin hot and dry, her eyes glazed, watching me with those too-bright eyes, filled me with misery.
The terrible realization had come to me that her chances of recovery were not great.
“Dearest Mama,” I cried, ‘tell me what to do. I will do anything .anything . if only you will get better. “
“Is that you, Minella?” she whispered. I knelt by the bed and took her hand.
“I am here, my dearest. I have not left you since you have been ill. I shall always be with you …”
“Minella, I am going to your father. I dreamed of him last night. He was standing at the prow of his ship and holding out his hands to me.
I said to him, “I’m coming to you.” Then he smiled and beckoned. I said: “I have to leave our little girl behind,” and he answered: “She will be well taken care of. You know she will.” Then a great peace came to me and I knew all would come right. “
“Nothing can be right if you are not here.”
“Oh yes, my love. You have your life. He is a good man. I have dreamed of it often …” Her voice was scarcely audible.
“He’s kind … like his father … He’ll be good to you. And you’ll fit. Never doubt it. You’re as good as any of them. No, better … Remember that, my child …”
“Oh my darling, I only want you to get well. Nothing else matters.”
She shook her head.
“The time comes for us all, Minella. Mine is now.
But I can go . happy . because he’s there. “
“Listen,” I insisted.
“You’re going to get well. We’ll close the school for a month. We’ll go away together … just the two of us.
We’ll raid the dower chest. “
Her lips twitched. She shook her head.
“Well spent,” she murmured.
“It was money well spent.”
“Don’t talk, dearest. Save your breath.”
She nodded and smiled at me with such a wealth of love in her eyes that I could scarcely restrain my tears.
She closed her eyes and after a while began to murmur under her breath.
I leaned forward to listen.
“Worthwhile,” she whispered.
“My girl .. why not? … she’s as good as any of them … fitting that she should take her place among them. What I always wanted. Like an answer to a prayer … Thank you, God. I can go happy now …”
I sat by the bed, understanding full well her thoughts, which were as they had been since my father’s death all for me. She was dying. I knew that, and I could find no comfort in deceiving myself. But she was happy because she believed that Joel Derringham was in love with me and would ask me to marry him.
Oh beloved, foolish mother! How unworldly she was! Even I, who had lived my sheltered life, was more aware of how the world acted than she was. Or perhaps she was blinded by love. She saw her daughter as a swan among geese . demanding to be singled out for attention.
There was only one thing for which I could be thankful. She died happy believing that my future was secure. She was buried in Derringham churchyard on a bitter December day-two weeks before Christmas. Standing in the cold wind, listening to the clods of earth falling on her coffin, I was completely overcome by my desolation. To represent him. Sir John had sent his butler a very dignified man held in great esteem by all those who worked for the Derringhams. Mrs. Callan, the housekeeper, also came. There were one or two other mourners from the estate, but I was aware of little but my grief.
I saw Joel as we left the churchyard. He was standing by ‘, the gate, his hat in his hand. He did not speak. He just took my hand and held it for a moment. I withdrew it. I could not , bear to talk to anyone.
All I wanted was to be alone.
The schoolhouse was deathly quiet. I could still smell the oak coffin which had stood on trestles in our sitting-room until that morning.
The room seemed empty now. There was nothing but emptiness everywhere in the house, and in my heart no less, I went to my bedroom and lay on my bed and thought of her and how we had laughed and planned together; and how her great relief had been that when she was gone I should have the school-until later when she had made up her mind that Joel Derringham wanted to marry me and had been elated contemplating a brilliant and secure future. I The rest of the day I lay there alone with my grief.
I had slept at length for I was quite exhausted and the next day when I arose I felt a little rested. The future stared me blankly in the face for I could not imagine it without her. I supposed I should continue with the school as she had always intended that I should until. I shook off thoughts of Joel Derringham. I liked him, of course, but even if he asked me to marry him I was not sure that I wanted to. What had alarmed me about my friendship with Joel was the knowledge that my mother was going to be heartbroken when it would finally be brought home to her that I could not marry him.
The Derringhams would never allow it even if Joel and I wished it.
Margot had told me he had been intended for her and that would be a suitable match. At least my dearest mother would not have to suffer that disappointment.
What should I do? I had to go on with my life. I should therefore continue with the school. I had the contents of the dower chest which was in her bedroom. That chest had belonged to her great-great-grandmother and had come down through the eldest daughters of the family. Money was put into it from the day a girl was born so that there would be a good sum by the time she was marriageable. The key was kept on the chain which my mother had worn about her waist and that chatelaine had also been handed down through the women of the household with the chest.