The Sundial (24 page)

“Most unwise, I should think,” Essex said. “We can be sure the chimneys will go.”

“And we can't call the fire department.” Julia's voice was high, and she giggled when she spoke.

The captain glanced to be sure that Mrs. Halloran had left the room. “It seems to
me
,” he said, dropping his voice, “that we haven't either the manpower or the equipment to make any try at covering the top floors—I'd be prepared to let those windows go, even it it means a chance of losing the furniture and what not up there. We just
can't
barricade the whole house, and after all, everything we need is stored away in the library.”

“If we're going to keep everyone in the drawing room, I agree with you,” Essex said. “
I
want the windows covered, not so much for protection as invisibility; I mean, we don't want to have to look outside. It's not anything any of us ought to be watching. Besides,” he added, “we
know
the house will stand.”

“That big window in the drawing room is going to take a lot of covering. But I don't want to see it any more than you do.”

They started together up the great curving staircase, which was already shivering slightly under the impact of the wind, and the captain grinned up at WHEN SHALL WE LIVE IF NOT NOW. “You know,” the captain said, “if the old boy had known what this house was going to go through, he might have built it some different.”

“He built it solid, anyway,” Essex said. “We can be thankful for that.”

_____

By three o'clock that afternoon the great windows downstairs, sparkling clean and shining, were covered entirely. Essex and the captain, with help from Gloria and Maryjane, had used blankets, bedspreads, tablecloths, sheets, and finally the huge canvas cover from the barbecue pit, which it cost them a struggle to bring in through the roaring wind. During all this time Julia had sat huddled in a big chair in one corner of the drawing room, crying a little and watching the big chandelier feverishly. The lights were still on, and several of them had remarked that it was no darker now, with the windows covered, than it had been before, with the sky black and furious outside. Fancy and her grandfather were playing checkers in his room. Mrs. Halloran had brought out a second bottle of sherry to accompany their cold lunch, but the captain, Essex, and a somewhat recovered Mrs. Willow were drinking whisky. Every available container in the house had been filled with water, and on the long drawing room table there was a line of thermos bottles, brought from the supplies in the library, each filled and labelled “Coffee” “Soup” or “Tea.” Blankets were piled neatly on a corner table in the drawing room, candles were in all the candlesticks, and extra boxes of candles on the mantel, with packages of matches. Mrs. Halloran, with half-hearted assistance from Mrs. Willow, had made plates of sandwiches and covered them with wax paper; they sat on the drawing room table with the row of thermos bottles. Under advice from Essex, who liked his whisky with ice, Mrs. Halloran had also filled two insulated ice buckets and, amused, informed Essex that so long as the refrigerator kept running, he need not drink his whisky warm. “I plan to drink a lot of it tonight,” said Essex. “And I am with you,” Mrs. Willow said.

Except for Julia, most of their original apprehension had faded into a kind of grim humor. They had done all they could; they were almost used to the crash of the wind against the sides of the house; they were excited and festive, with a kind of picnic air.

“My hangover is gone,” Mrs. Willow announced once with deep pleasure.

Maryjane laughed. “I am never going to have any more asthma,” she said. “Do you know,” she told Aunt Fanny, “I have been better today than any time since Lionel passed on.”

“That,” said Aunt Fanny sternly, “is because you got up and did a little hard work for a change. And I promise you, you will be active enough from now on.”

“I am going to dress,” Mrs. Halloran said. “I do not know how much longer the lights will stay on, and I am sure I would detest dressing by candlelight.”

“Better take a candle with you anyway,” the captain said.

Mrs. Halloran rose and stood in the center of the room. “Before I go,” she said, “we must be sure that all instructions are clearly understood. I have already told you that I expect all of you to be here, in this room, suitably dressed, by four o'clock, and that no one is to leave this room after that time. I recommend that you dress yourselves as well as possible, with, of course, due attention to warmth and safety, but with an eye to our appearance tomorrow morning and the good impression we must create. When I step out of this house tomorrow morning, I want to know that I am bringing with me into that clean world a family neat, prepossessing, and well-groomed. Remember,” and for a minute Mrs. Halloran hesitated, because her voice shook; she put one hand against her lips, and said, “Remember, this—this is the end we have waited for so long.”

“
Very
true,” Aunt Fanny said, bustling. “We must all look our very best.”

“And hurry, too,” Arabella said. “Julia, stop moping and
hurry
.”

“The light is dimmer,” Julia said.

“More reason to hurry,” Aunt Fanny said, and Julia rose wearily.

“Fancy?” Maryjane called down the corridor. “Fancy? Come and put on your party dress; it's time.”

“My father always liked to see his daughter sweet and clean, although a pinafore until the party actually starts—”

“It irks me,” Essex said to the captain, “to be required to greet our free bright world in a jacket and a tie.”

“Feel a little out of place?” the captain asked.

“Like a businessman from the city walking into a summer camp,” Essex said.

“I suppose we'll be allowed to dress informally now and then,” the captain said. “Anyway, from what
I
heard, your hunting costume was
most
informal.”

“Come along, my gels,” Mrs. Willow said, shepherding Julia and Arabella, “you'll be the belles of the ball, and
this
is going to be a party,
this
is; Julia, you'll be more cheerful in your fine clothes; Belle, a lady must not linger on her way to her toilette; Aunt Fanny, take my candle, since I see you are without, and I shall use Belle's;
do
come, my beauties.”

“Oh, dear,” Miss Ogilvie said, wavering, “ought
I
to dress, too, Mrs. Willow? Am I to have a candle? Perhaps
I
am only expected to wait here? Or Mr. Halloran—I could perhaps go to Mr. Halloran?”

“Miss Ogilvie,” Mrs. Willow said sternly, “you are to inherit with the rest of us, and you must not be remiss in your dress. Mr. Halloran will be well enough for half an hour, and Mrs. Halloran would be very much displeased if you were not here at four o'clock in your better clothes. It is like going to church, Miss Ogilvie, precisely like going to church—one dresses decently, you know. Although, sadly, unlike going to church to be married, Miss Ogilvie, although I expect
you
will not perceive the fine difference in degrees of felicity; Miss Ogilvie, I must stress our very great need for haste.”

“If you would just step out of the doorway,” Miss Ogilvie said with dignity, “perhaps
I
could get through.”

_____

The lights went out at last while they were dressing, and there was so much noise of laughter and running from one room to another and remarks shouted down the dark hallways that it was difficult to hear even the wind, much less the sound of Mrs. Halloran going down the staircase. At any rate, they all appeared considerably surprised when, gathering with their candles upon the wide landing, festively dressed, eager and excited beneath WHEN SHALL WE LIVE IF NOT NOW? they saw, all at once, Mrs. Halloran lying in her golden gown, crumpled at the foot of the great staircase. In the weak light of the candles the stuff of the golden gown shimmered richly; “Mrs. Halloran?” Miss Ogilvie called down anxiously, but Mrs. Halloran did not answer and, further, did not move.

“Good heavens,” Miss Ogilvie said to the rest of them, and then called again, “Mrs. Halloran? Are you all right?”

“I expect somebody pushed her down the stairs,” Mrs. Willow said. She nodded profoundly and added, “Live by the sword, die by the sword.”

“I wonder how it could have happened,” Aunt Fanny said. “Poor Orianna was always so careful of her footing.”

“Somebody pushed her, of course,” Mrs. Willow said.

“I was certainly
wondering
about all those instructions and rules of hers,” Arabella said. “I kept
thinking
maybe she was going to a different place than ours. And so of course I
was
right, wasn't I?”

“My crown!” Fancy said suddenly, and bolted down the stairs.

“Fancy dear, be careful—you'll trip and fall,” Maryjane called, but Fancy leaped down the last two steps, avoiding Mrs. Halloran, and tugged at the crown. “It's stuck,” she said.

“One minute there.” The captain came heavily down the stairs and bent over Mrs. Halloran. For a minute he looked at her carefully, taking her wrist to feel her pulse, and then he stood up, shaking his head. “Poor old lady,” he said. And then, to Fancy, “I guess it's your crown all right.” Gently he moved Mrs. Halloran's head and took off the crown to set on Fancy's head.

“
My
crown, now,” Fancy said, pleased.

The rest were coming down the stairs, going carefully from one step to the next, with a certain tendency to eye with suspicion whoever was walking in back of them. “Live by the sword, die by the sword,” Mrs. Willow kept saying. They gathered around Mrs. Halloran, looking down in silence for a minute, and then Gloria said, “I can't believe it. I am so sorry that I was rude to her.”

Aunt Fanny smoothed the hair which had been disarranged when the captain took off the crown. “I am going to miss her,” she said with some surprise.

“Well,
some
body pushed her down the stairs,” Mrs. Willow said. “She never fell by herself.”

“
That
hardly matters, does it?” Aunt Fanny said. “Poor Orianna.”

“She wouldn't like having all of us standing around staring at her,” Gloria said, and they all moved back a little, looking away.

Essex sat on the bottom step of the staircase and said, looking at Mrs. Halloran, “She said she would either come with us as a ruler, or not at all. I wish,” he said, looking helplessly at the others, “that she had been able to change her mind.”

“She was always a very firm woman,” Aunt Fanny said. She sighed. “I
am
going to miss her.”

“Perhaps,” the captain suggested, with the air of one looking on the bright side, “perhaps she wouldn't have liked it anyway. Tomorrow, I mean.”

“She might have felt
very
out of place,” Arabella added.

Essex leaned down and touched Mrs. Halloran's cheek gently. Then he stood up and turned away. “Look at my
crown
,” Fancy said insistently, capering up to him, “Essex, look at my crown!”

“It looks very nice on you, Fancy,” Maryjane said.

“But vanity is out of place in a young girl,” Aunt Fanny said. “Try to remember, Fancy, that earthly possessions do not make a noble soul; just because you have a crown you are not any better than other girls your age.”

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” Mrs. Willow said again, standing over Mrs. Halloran. “I wonder who could have pushed her down the stairs?
Any
way, though, we can't leave her
here
.”

“I don't like the idea of going up and down the stairs past her, and
that
's the truth,” the captain said.

“Well, she ought to be outside,” Aunt Fanny said.

“True,” the captain said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Door's barricaded,” he pointed out.

Fancy, who was dancing a slow child's dance around the hall, carrying a candle and wearing her crown, called “But she didn't want to see what was happening outside.”

“She won't be watching,” the captain said. “No fear of
that
. The way
I
look at it, we just can't figure to keep her along with us, and plan to bury her or something tomorrow morning. Aside from everything else, it would put a damper on the whole first day.”

“No,” Aunt Fanny said, “outside is right; put her outside.”

“But the door is barricaded,” Mrs. Willow said.

“The upstairs windows—” the captain suggested, but Aunt Fanny shook her head emphatically.

“She was my brother's wife,” Aunt Fanny said, “and as such, must leave the house with dignity. I cannot, for my part, consent to ejecting Mrs. Halloran from an upstairs window. Although, as I remember,” she added thoughtfully, “the great door is not the one she first came in by; I think originally she used the servant's entrance. At any rate, she must go out the great door.”

“Well.” The captain sighed, and looked at Essex. “You game?” he asked.

Essex had been looking down at Mrs. Halloran. “Anything you say,” he said slowly. “I rather liked her,” he said.

“Why, Essex.” Aunt Fanny came up and put a consoling hand on Essex' arm. “We all loved her
very
dearly, Essex. But we must look forward, and think of the morning; consider the others who will go tonight—consider her as only one of millions.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Willow put in, “somebody
did
push her down the stairs.”

“Well, that is all water under the bridge now,” Aunt Fanny said soothingly, “and you are not to grieve, Essex. Try to remember that we all share in this loss. And get her outside.”

“I do dislike taking all that stuff down from the door,” the captain said. “It was a hell of a job getting it up.”