Time for Silence

Prelude

I FIRST MET CARL Zimmerman in my father’s house in Westminster when I was eleven years old. I remember the occasion well. We were, in common with the whole of London—or the entire country for that matter—celebrating the coronation and new reign of the King and Queen.

The old King had died. He had been a colorful character in his day, especially as Prince of Wales. He had seemed to attract scandal which shocked the people—and the people love to be shocked. When he became King he appeared to be much more sober, but then, of course, he was much older.

I was born in the last year of the century—too young, as my mother had said, to remember the relief of Mafeking, though she had stood at the window of our London house with me in her arms looking down at the revelry in the streets below, and apparently I had appeared to be most amused.

The Prince of Wales had become Edward VII soon after that, on the death of his mother, the great Victoria, after which, I often heard, things were never the same again. Now Edward himself had passed on and we were welcoming his son, George, and George’s Queen Mary to be our new sovereigns.

My father, Joel Greenham, was the Member of Parliament for Marchlands, a constituency close to Epping Forest which had been represented by a Greenham since the days of George II—as a Whig in those days, and a Liberal since the party changed its name.

I was accustomed to gatherings, for we entertained frequently, both at Westminster and Marchlands, where we had a delightful house which I loved. Here, in London, the parties we gave were mostly political, and the guests were quite important well-known people whom I enjoyed meeting when I had the chance. It was different in the country, where the guests would be neighboring landowners and such like. They were more cozy.

My presence at the London parties was a secret one. I would be on the second floor, close to the banisters where I could get a good view and still be able to draw back quickly if anyone should chance to look up. My parents knew I was there. They would sometimes look up and lift a hand surreptitiously to let me know they were aware of my presence. Robert Denver knew, too, but then he was like a member of the family.

There had always been close ties between us and the Denvers. My mother and Lady Denver had been brought up together in their early days; then Lady Denver, whom I called Aunt Belinda, had gone to Australia for some years and when she returned and married Sir Robert Denver, the relationship had been resumed. Aunt Belinda had two children. One was Robert, the other Annabelinda. Both were very important to me.

Robert was about five years older than I, and one of the nicest people I had ever known. He was tall and lean; he had rather a disjointed look which was somehow endearing, as though, said his sister, Annabelinda, he had been put together in a hurry and some parts had not fitted very well. He had a gentle nature and I had loved him from the first moment I knew him.

Annabelinda was two years older than I and not in the least like her brother; she was disturbing, unpredictable and immensely exciting.

“Annabelinda takes after her mother,” I had heard my own mother say on more than one occasion.

They had an estate in the country and when they came to London they stayed with us. Robert was going to take over the estate in time, and he and his father were not such frequent visitors as Annabelinda and her mother. Those two much preferred London to the country.

On this occasion the whole family was with us. Sir Robert and Aunt Belinda and Robert were guests at the party. Annabelinda was with us on the stairs. She was a beauty already with deep-blue eyes, thick black hair and beautifully smooth, pale skin; she was full of vitality and outrageously adventurous. I could imagine that Aunt Belinda had been exactly like her in her youth and that she had plagued my mother as Annabelinda now plagued me.

“You must not let Annabelinda rule you,” said my mother. “Make your own judgments. Don’t let her lead you. She could be overpowering…just like her mother,” she added reminiscently.

I knew what she meant and determined to follow her advice.

On this occasion, after Miss Grant, my governess, had sat with us while we drank our milk as we did every evening, Annabelinda had given vent to her annoyance.

“It’s all very well for you, Lucinda,” she said. “You are, after all, only eleven years old. I am thirteen and still treated like a child.”

“We can see them all arrive. That’s fun, isn’t it, Charles?” I said to my younger brother.

“Oh, yes,” he replied. “And when they have all gone into the dining room, we creep downstairs and wait in the cubbyhole till Robert brings us gorgeous things to eat.”

“Annabelinda knows all that,” I said. “She’s been with us at other times.”

“It’s fun,” said Charles.

“Fun?” retorted Annabelinda. “To be treated like a child…at my age!”

I studied her. She certainly did not look like a child.

“Annabelinda will develop early,” my mother had said.

It was true. She was already shapely. “She’s like her mother…born mature.” That was my mother again, who often expressed her deep knowledge of Aunt Belinda in a way which made it seem like a warning.

“I shall not come to look through the banisters at them,” went on Annabelinda. “It is too childish for words.”

I shrugged my shoulders. I was looking forward to it. The guests would ascend the wide staircase from the hall to where my parents would be waiting to greet them under the big chandelier. The drawing room and dining room were on the first floor and there was a space at the top of the stairs where they talked together before they drifted into the other rooms. It was at this stage that we watched them through the banisters.

Then when they were in the dining room, we would creep down and go into that small room which was reached by ascending a few steps of a back staircase. There we waited. The room contained several cupboards in which all sorts of things were stored. There was a table and some chairs in it and it was around this that we would settle happily, eating whatever Robert brought us. He would creep in with a tray on which would be trifle, ice cream or some such delicacy. He would sit with us in this room—which we called the cubbyhole—while we ate. It was the best part of the evening, and I think Robert enjoyed it, too.

When Miss Grant left us, we went to our point of vantage at the banisters and Annabelinda was with us. She did not explain her change of mind. She just squatted beside us and made critical comments on the appearances of the ladies while she gave most of her attention to the men.

When the guests had all gone into supper we prepared ourselves for the most exciting part of the evening. Silently we crept downstairs, sped under the chandelier, along to the end of the landing and up the four stairs to the cubbyhole.

Charles was finding it hard to suppress his giggles, and almost immediately, just as I expected, Robert appeared with a tray on which were four glass dishes containing syllabub. He had guessed Annabelinda would be there.

She was a little ashamed, I believe, at being seen joining in with the young ones, but as her brother, Robert, had stooped from even greater heights—although he did not seem to be aware of this—she was to some extent reconciled.

We sat down at the table to enjoy the syllabub.

“I knew it would be syllabub,” Charles said. “I heard Cook say. She wasn’t very pleased. Old-fangled stuff, she said it was.”

Everyone ignored him. Poor Charles! But when one is the youngest, one gets used to being ignored, and Charles had a very cheerful disposition. He was content to attack the syllabub with relish.

“I brought you an extra-large portion,” Robert told him. “I thought you might need it.”

“Thanks,” replied Charles, and showed his appreciation with a beaming smile.

“What are they talking about down there?” asked Annabelinda.

“Politics mainly,” said Robert.

“Not still going on about that old election, are they?” I asked.

“Well, it’s the House of Lords really. That seems to be the main cause of the trouble.”

“They oppose everything the Government wants to do,” I said. “There is nothing new about that.”

“Perhaps the new King will do something about it,” suggested Annabelinda.

“Monarchs are constitutional now,” I reminded her, “and the House of Lords is not so important as the Commons—though the laws have to be passed by them as well. My father says Mr. Asquith should create more peers so that he has the balance in his favor.”

Annabelinda yawned, and I went on. “It was wonderful of you, Robert, to bring this to us.”

“You know I always do at these affairs.”

“I know…and I like it.”

He gave me his special smile. “The fact is,” he said, “I like being here…rather than at the party, actually.”

“I should have liked a little more,” confessed Charles.

“What? After that big helping, you greedy creature,” I said.

“Have mine,” volunteered Robert, and Charles accepted with, “If you’re sure you don’t want it. It’s a shame to waste it.”

It was at that moment that I thought I heard footsteps outside the door.

I paused and listened.

“What is it?” asked Robert.

“Someone’s on the stairs. I heard that board creak. It always does…just outside the cubbyhole.”

I went to the door and opened it.

A young man was standing there. He looked startled when he saw me. I noticed his very fair hair and light-blue eyes…as for a few seconds we stared at each other. He was in evening dress, so I knew he was one of the guests.

“Have you lost your way?” I asked.

“Yes…yes…I have lost my way.” He spoke with the faintest foreign accent.

The others had come to the door of the cubbyhole. He looked at us all in dismay.

“Oh,” he said, “I am very sorry. I do not know how I got here. I am careless. I spill food on my coat. I think I must clean it off before it is seen. I find my way to the…little place…and I sponge it off. I come out…and I do not know where I am. I am lost.”

“You were trying to find your way to the dining room. This house is full of odd nooks and crannies, but it is so conveniently near the House of Parliament. I can see where you went wrong. But you are almost back on the right floor now. I’ll show you.”

“You are very kind.”

Annabelinda was studying him intently. “Come and sit down for a moment,” she said. “You haven’t been in this house before, have you?”

“No. It is my first visit. I arrived in England only two weeks ago.”

“Where do you come from?” asked Annabelinda.

“From Switzerland.”

“How exciting…all those mountains and lakes.”

He smiled at her, looking less nervous now.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Carl Zimmerman.”

“I’m Annabelinda Denver,” said Annabelinda. “And this is my brother, Robert. These two belong to the house. Lucinda and Charles Greenham.”

“Now,” he said, with a smile, “we all know each other.”

“We weren’t invited to the party,” Annabelinda continued. “They think we’re all too young…except Robert, of course. He brought up the syllabub for us.”

The young man’s smile broadened.

“I understand. And I am happy to have met you.”

“Are you an important diplomat?” asked Annabelinda.

“Not an important one. This is my first assignment.”

“And you got lost on the stairs!” said Annabelinda with a little shriek.

“Anyone can get lost,” I said.

“I do it all the time,” added Robert.

“Are you staying in London for long?” asked Annabelinda.

He lifted his shoulders. “I am not sure.”

“You must be quite important to have been invited here,” went on Annabelinda.

He shrugged his shoulders again. “I am with my colleague. It is because of him.”

“Will they be missing you?” I asked.

“Oh! They’ll be coming out of the dining room now,” said Robert. “Look, we’d better go. Come with me. I’ll escort you back.”

“Thank you. You are very good.”

Annabelinda was not pleased. She scowled at her brother, but the young man had risen and was following Robert to the door.

“Thanks for the syllabub,” I said, and Robert smiled at me.

“And I thank you,” said the young man. “I thank you all.”

Then he and Robert went back to the guests.

“Just as it was getting interesting!” grumbled Annabelinda. “Really, Rob is a bit of a spoilsport.”

“He was right,” I defended him. “They might have been missed and it could have been awkward for him…as he must be new to all this.”

“I wanted him to stay. It was fun. Oh, well…that’s it. I’m going to my room.”

She went off and Charles and I retired to ours. We did not want to wait for the departure of the guests.

“The syllabub was good,” was Charles’s final comment. “I didn’t mind its being old-fangled stuff.”

I think I, too, shared Annabelinda’s feelings of vague disappointment.

It was not until the next morning that I heard the news. Millie Jennings, one of the maids, told me when she brought in my hot water.

“Oh, such a to-do, Miss Lucinda. The police was here last night. Just midnight, it was. It wasn’t till after all the guests were gone that madam discovered.”

“What are you talking about, Millie?” I asked.

“The burglary, miss, that’s what. It was when madam went up to her bedroom. She found one of the drawers open—her jewelry had been tampered with. They got the police…late as it was. You didn’t hear them then? Sleep like a log, you do, miss.”

“Burglars! Last night! Then it must have been while the party was going on.”

“That’s what they reckon. Some of madam’s emeralds have been taken, so it seems. Just fancy…us knowing nothing about it when all that was going on.”

I decided to get up and find out for myself what had happened, so I washed and dressed as quickly as I could and went down to find my mother. She was in the dining room drinking a cup of coffee.

“Mama, what happened?” I asked.

She lifted her eyebrows. “There appears to have been a burglary last night.”

“So Millie was saying. She said they took your emeralds.”

“Some of my jewelry is missing.”

“And it was while the party was going on!”

“It was a good time to do it, I suppose.”

“Millie said the police were here.”

“Yes…they came last night. They’ll be here again this morning.”

“How could it have happened?”

“Apparently someone must have got in from the back of the house. The window of our bedroom was open so they could have come in that way. I think they may have been disturbed, because there was so much they might have taken. They had been in your father’s study, too.”

“Did they take anything from there?”

“Well, no. There is nothing of value there…except that paper knife with the sapphires set in the handle. They couldn’t have noticed that. It seems they must have been disturbed before they really got started, and thought they’d better get out. You didn’t hear anything, I suppose? What did you do after you’d finished the syllabub Robert brought you? I saw him sneaking out of the dining room with the tray.”

“We just ate it. Oh, yes…and there was someone on the stairs outside the cubbyhole.”

“What?”

“He had spilt something on his jacket and went off to clean it. Then he got lost when he was looking for the dining room. Robert took him back there.”

“Oh, I see. Who was it?”

“Someone called Carl Zimmerman.”

“I remember. He came along with someone from one of the embassies. A rather shy young man. Well, he would be new to all this.”

“Yes. He gave that impression.”

“I meant, did you hear anything suspicious? No noise or anything from above?”

“No. After that I went to bed and I don’t remember any more until Millie came in.”

“I suppose we ought to be glad that it is no worse. I don’t like to think of people’s prowling about the house…especially when we’re all in it. It gives one rather a creepy feeling.”

I agreed that it did.

The police came along that morning. Annabelinda, Charles and I watched them from an upper window. Annabelinda hoped they would question her. She began to wonder whether she had heard something after I had left her on the previous night. It was not that she would deliberately tell an untruth. She just liked excitement, and it was essential to her that she be at the center of it.

She was very disappointed when the police left without seeing her.

It was two days later. The Denvers were about to leave. I was sorry. I liked to feel that Robert was at hand. He was so kind and always wanted to be on good terms with everybody, whoever they were. I had mixed feelings about Annabelinda, as I knew my mother did about Aunt Belinda. We were attracted by them; we liked them, and yet in a way we were suspicious of them. Whenever I heard they were coming to visit us I would grow excited, and when they arrived, faintly irritated. It was due to Annabelinda’s somewhat patronizing manner, the admiration she demanded, the desire always to have attention focused on her and to jostle out of the way those who might attempt to rival her.

My mother knew exactly how I felt, because it had happened to her with Belinda. Yet when they went, there would be a feeling of anticlimax; one would feel a mild depression. Life was less interesting and one would find oneself hankering for their return.

It was almost as though Annabelinda was a part of me—not a part I greatly liked, but one which I found it difficult to do without.

We had just finished breakfast. Sir Robert was saying what a pleasant visit it had been and we must all come to Hampshire and stay with them. My father replied that things were happening in the House and he would be tied there for a while. Then he would have to do a spell at Marchlands. Constituencies could not be neglected.

“It is easier for you to come to London,” said my mother.

“Much easier,” said Aunt Belinda. “Don’t worry, Lucie dear. You will soon have to put up with us again. I know Annabelinda feels the same as I do, don’t you, dear?”

“I love it here in London,” said Annabelinda fervently.

“Well, then, we shall see you soon,” replied my mother.

At that moment Mrs. Cherry, the housekeeper, came into the room in a most unceremonious manner, which was strange for her. She looked agitated. She was holding something in her hand.

“Oh, sir…madam…it’s Jane. She just found these.”

We had all risen, for what Mrs. Cherry was holding in her hand was my mother’s emerald bracelet and ring…those items which we thought had been stolen while the party was in progress.

“Mrs. Cherry!” cried my mother. “Where on earth…?”

My father had gone to the housekeeper and taken the jewelry from her. “Where were they found, Mrs. Cherry?” he asked.

“In the bedroom, sir…caught in the valance round the bed.”

My mother stammered, “It’s…not possible. They were always kept in the case.”

“Jane found them, did she?” said my father.

“Yes, sir. I’ll bring her along.”

We were all astounded. There was no doubt that these were the missing emeralds. How had they come to be caught in the valance around the bed?

My mother kept insisting that she had not worn the emeralds for a week and when she had she was sure she had put them back in their case. How could this possibly have happened?

The fact remained that the missing emeralds were recovered, and the police had to be told.

The general feeling was that there had been no burglary and the emeralds had not been put in their case; instead they had somehow been caught up in the bed valance. Someone must have forgotten to close the window, and when my parents had returned and seen it open they had assumed we had had a burglary.

There was an apology to the police for the trouble caused, a substantial contribution to police charities, and the case was closed.

It was for this reason that I remember so vividly my first meeting with Carl Zimmerman.