I folded Lavinia’s exquisite undergarments, placing each item between soft tissue so the silk would not catch on rough spots within the cedar chest. Most of her clothing would go to charity, but to give away her most intimate apparel seemed crass indeed.
I lay back and rested, pondering the way things had come about. Had Lavinia considered herself less fey, events might have taken a different turn.
It had begun with Lavinia’s mother. Some say she had the sight, others considered her mad, with her claims of phantoms and the like wandering the house. Whether she was mad or otherwise I hardly know, for I was hired as nurse to Lavinia only after her parents were killed in the fire that destroyed the north wing. In any event, my charge grew up convinced she had inherited her mother’s gift, and although I tried to instill in her a measure of common sense, she’d not have it otherwise. The child was given to daydreaming, this being small wonder in light of the estate being so isolated and no neighbors close by to offer companionship. Lavinia had only the servants and myself for company. There was money of course — plenty of that.
It was no surprise when Lavinia fell for William, her loneliness making her fine prey for any fortune hunter that happened by. And happen by William did, in a manner of speaking…
Lavinia returned from her walk one morning full of how she and he had met in the lane.
“And, Mattie dear, he fell from his bicycle right in front of me.”
“Bicycle! Well I never.”
“He did look most abashed sprawled in the hedgerow. And, Mattie, I laughed! I am most ashamed, but he wasn’t hurt and I couldn’t stop myself…”
That was the beginning of it. Soon William was spending more time at the house than he had any business doing, and the whole household knew how it would be. There’s nobody can say I didn’t warn her, but she had to have things her way. The wedding took place scandalous quick — but who was there to forbid it?
Even I hadn’t expected trouble quite so soon. It was but one month following their return from the wedding trip that she came to me in tears.
“He’s leaving me, Mattie.”
“Whatever are you blubbering about, child? Why it’s just a quarrel is all. If I know anything about marriage...”
“We did not quarrel. I could never quarrel with Will. He’s going to join the army.”
“He’s what?”
Laced with heartbroken sobs, Lavinia blurted the story. “He wants to seek his fortune and the army will provide him an opportunity. I told him I had enough money for both of us, but he thinks it dishonorable that we live on my fortune. He… He’s made up his mind. He says he’ll be back but, Mattie, I’m afraid. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he's killed?”
I had no reasonable answer for that. She continued to wail,“He swears he’ll return to me. He says that during his absence I shall be comforted by always knowing that he's safe.”
“How will you know that?”
“He says I have the gift, and that I shall know at once should disaster befall him. He has promised to send me a special signal should he lie dying on some foreign battlefield. Oh, I can’t bear it!”
“What signal might he be talking about?”
“I will hear a tune. The melody that was our favorite in Paris — the one I hum so often. Oh, he can’t leave me…”
But leave William did, amidst much angst and the exchange of many a solemn promise.
Two years passed and William did not return. A grim two years they were. Lavinia turned in on herself. She spent her days either in prayer or wandering aimlessly from room to room as though in search of something, although the object of her search remained a mystery. The days were dismal, but the nights were worse. Many were the times I was roused from my mattress by the sound of Lavinia’s screams. She saw ghosts. If it wasn’t the ghost of her mother or her father, then it was the specter of some ancient relative long since left to rot in the family graveyard. These sightings were nothing but nightmares, but there was no way of convincing Lavinia. The ghosts were warning her of dire events about to befall her. Most portents concerned William, and the way in which he would depart this vale.
I thought things could get no worse, but I was mistaken.
One morning I went to rouse Lavinia and found her bed empty. A search soon found her, but the damage had been wrought. She had been lying on the cold flagstone floor of the ruined wing, dressed in naught but her nightshift. Sodden she was, and chilled to the marrow. For days Lavinia lay ranting in a fevered state. I listened.
She had heard a whistled tune. It swirled around in her head as she slept, but upon waking the tune did not cease. That fateful night, she had arisen from bed, descended the stairs and unlatched the kitchen door. Once in the sodden garden she’d proceeded to the ruined north side of the house where, in her delirium, she swore that the whistling of the sweet melody had emanated.
We buried Lavinia next to her parents in the family cemetary.
Having done with the storage of Lavinia’s fine things, and taken a short doze, I decided to take myself to the kitchen for a cup of tea. I could have rung for it, but I enjoyed a bit of gossip now and then.
Cook’s spoon hit the counter with an angry clatter, but ignoring the splotch of broth that hit the wall behind the range, she turned to glare at the kitchen maid.
“It’s all right for you to go all weepy about the Mistress, Mazie Wilkins! We’re every one of us that sad about what happened. But the likes of me an’ Len ‘ere won’t find another place — not at our age we won’t. Save yer sympathy for the likes of us.”
Maizie stared moonily into space. “She really loved ‘im she did.”
“Never thought much of ‘im meself,” Cook sniffed.
“Aye, but so ‘andsome ‘e was,” Maizie sighed.
Cook turned to me. “Suppose you’ll be ‘ere looking fer yer tea.”
I ignored her sharp tone. “Wouldn’t count on any of you being without employment just yet, Mrs. Smythe.” With relish I noted that even Len was jarred from somnolence by this assertion.
“You’ll be gone quicker’n any of us, Mrs. Mattie. No call for you to stay around is there?” I note the satisfaction in her dry chuckle. Well, she’d never been much taken with me, had she? Perhaps she wasn’t destined to stay here after all, but I’d deal with that later.
“Take a look yonder.” I nodded toward the window.
We watched as the cloud of dust on the horizon took the form of a horse and rider.
“It’s him,” I said. “Knew he’d be back I did. Now she’s gone he’s come back to claim the spoils.”
“Why you’re a wicked one, you are.”
“Mark my words, he’s back.”
I’d misspoken. It was not William at all, but rather Conrad, William’s brother. Conrad claimed he was now master of the establishment, now that William was dead.
“You ain’t got no claim, young master,” scoffed Cook. Miss Lavinia was Mistress ‘ere.”
Conrad cast her a superior smile, and informed us all that he had momentarily returned from a solicitor in Truro where he had learned that he was sole inheritor of brother William’s assets. He said that William had acquitted himself well in the army; he had made the fortune he so desired, and was on his way back to his beloved Lavinia when misfortune befell him. Conrad explained, rather too heartily I thought, that his brother had been attacked and killed by bandits not ten miles from home. He had outlived his wife by one day, and had thus inherited her estate.
And so it was that brother Conrad became a man of property.
My belongings are being removed from the small chamber next to the one Lavinia had occupied. I will be more comfortable in the large gold room facing the garden. It is indeed a happy circumstance that Conrad’s fiance is my only niece. I whistle a gay tune in anticipation of the future. Whistling has long been a habit of mine.
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