Tristan gravely examined the beds and it was clear that he found it difficult to imagine us his size.
Of course, it was wonderful to be home. My parents had been right to insist that we come. It would help me, not to forget, of course, for I could never do that, but to get through those days of waiting and to find some happiness in the love of my family.
At least I hoped so.
Dorabella had written to Captain Brent, who was delighted that she was near to London; we had not been at Caddington more than a week when he wrote to say that he could get away for a few days and could she come to London?
My mother suggested she could stay with Gretchen, who would be delighted to have her.
And so it was arranged.
Dorabella came back radiant, with presents for us all. Gretchen was well, she said, and so glad we were at Caddington. It was wonderful to know that we were nearer and in fairly easy reach of London. She was hoping to come down to see us sometime when Edward could get enough leave to make that possible.
“London has changed,” said Dorabella. “That ghastly blackout! One is more conscious of the war and there is that awful air raid warning going off at odd moments when it is wise to take cover. But it is still dear old London—always that little bit more exciting than anywhere else.”
A few days later, my mother said: “I’ve got a surprise for you. Who do you think is coming for the weekend?”
“I can’t guess,” I said. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Remember Mary Grace?”
“Mary Grace!” I cried. “How is she? What is she doing these days?”
“She’ll tell you all about it when she comes.”
“That will be wonderful.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.” She was smiling a little secretively, and I guessed something was pleasing her in addition to the reunion with Mary Grace.
At last my mother’s secret came out.
“It is possible that her brother may be coming with her. He’s Major Dorrington now, you know. He may … just may … be able to get a little spell of leave, and if he does, he knows we shall be pleased to see him.”
I must say I felt rather disturbed. Richard Dorrington had at one time been interested in me, in fact, enough to suggest marriage, and I must have liked him sufficiently not to give him a direct no. It had not worked out very satisfactorily. I had discovered my true feelings for Jowan, and Richard and I had seen nothing of each other since before the war. It would be strange to meet again. My parents had selected him as a very desirable husband for me and, like most parents, they had an urgent desire to see their daughter make a good marriage; Richard Dorrington was, in their eyes, a very sensible and reliable man. After Dorabella’s disastrous adventures in matrimony, naturally they hoped to see me safely settled.
I could always read my mother’s thoughts. She was very much hoping that Richard would be able to come and that we would reconsider our feelings for each other. In her heart she believed that Jowan would never come back.
On the other hand, to see Richard’s sister Mary Grace would be a great pleasure. I had always liked her, since her shy, retiring days when I had first discovered that she could paint exquisite miniatures. She had done one of me, which I gave Dorabella, and one of my sister which Dorabella gave to me. The miniatures were important to us not only because they were delightful but because of what they had done for Mary Grace, who, through the notice she had received for them, had been commissioned to do others.
The weekend was almost upon us and we were still not sure whether Richard would be with us. We had been told that he had leave but it could be canceled at the last moment. So it was in a mood of uncertainty that we went to the station to meet the London train.
It arrived on time and when Mary Grace stepped out, with her was the tall figure of her brother.
We hurried to meet them. Richard looked splendid in his uniform. He grasped both my hands and said with fervor: “Violetta, it is marvelous to see you again.”
We drove back to the house where my father was waiting to receive our guests, and he immediately expressed his delight that Richard was able to come.
“Everything is so uncertain nowadays,” said Richard. “But my luck was in. It is good to be here.”
We sat long over dinner that night. Everyone had so much to say. My father and Richard talked earnestly about the progress of the war.
“Everything has changed since Pearl Harbor,” said Richard. “Even the most pessimistic can’t doubt that we shall win.”
“Hitler must be growing very uneasy,” remarked my father.
“I think he made a mistake in starting up the second front. It is clear that he is not going to have an easy victory in Russia. I imagine he thought he would plough through as he did in Belgium, Holland, and France. He ought to have given the matter more thought. Lucky for us that he didn’t.”
“And now the Americans are in.”
“And it is only a matter of time,” Richard assured us.
“Meanwhile it goes on and on,” put in my mother. “It was supposed to be over by the first Christmas.”
“We were unprepared,” commented Richard. “Now the whole country is working all out.”
“Even I,” said Mary Grace.
She told us about her ministry. Everyone had to work, of course, who had not domestic commitments. She was looking after her mother to some extent, although they had a housekeeper who had been with them for years and was too old to be needed for war work. However, Mary Grace worked part-time. It was interesting, she said, and she enjoyed it.
“And your painting?” I asked.
“I am still doing that, too.”
Richard could, naturally, tell us little of his activities, but he did say that he would have to be ready to land on the Continent when the time came. We still had to see the outcome between Germany and Russia, and there was a great deal of activity in the Middle East. But the outlook was certainly more cheerful than it had been for some time.
They had arrived on Friday and would have to leave in the late afternoon of Sunday. It was a very brief visit but we did manage to get a good deal into it. On Saturday Dorabella and I went riding with Richard and Mary Grace; we stopped for lunch at one of the inns we knew well, where we were warmly welcomed by the host.
We talked and laughed a great deal, and I was sorry they had to leave. We all went to the station to see them off and wish them a quick journey back. Trains were rather uncertain and they could not be sure whether they might not be diverted. Such things happened in wartime and Richard had to be back by midnight.
“Let us do this again … as soon as we can,” said my father, and my mother added: “Remember, the first opportunity you get, you must come down.”
“Perhaps you would like to pay a visit to London?” said Richard, looking at me.
“My mother would be delighted to see you,” added Mary Grace. “She often talks of you.”
The train came in and we stood on the platform, waving it out of the station.
My mother looked pleased.
“A very happy weekend,” she commented, and I knew that when she was alone with my father she would say that it had done me a world of good.
Mrs. Jermyn wrote. All was well at the Priory. Mrs. Canter was quite a success and the men seemed rather amused by Mrs. Pardell. They wouldn’t allow her to bully them and they teased her rather shamefully. Mrs. Jermyn was afraid she might have objected, but oddly enough, she seemed to like it.
“Your sister tells me that being in your old home seems to agree with you,” she wrote. “I guessed it would be a help. Dear Violetta, you must stay there as long as you feel it is necessary. I know how happy it makes your parents to have you, and I am sure Dorabella is enjoying being there, too.