Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 28 - Ice and Fire

The truth was that Belinda was an exceptionally hot-blooded young woman. What she lacked in intellect she made up for in the form of a strong drive and emotional life. At times it felt like a fire no one could put out. At least she herself couldn’t. She would get vague, seemingly forbidden thoughts about men. No one had ever talked to Belinda about the mysteries of love, other than while giggling and chanting ballads that she didn’t understand anyway. Once she had asked her mother how Signe’s child was going to get out and how it had got there, but her mother had merely boxed her ears soundly.

But something had happened a few days ago. She had heard the cook say to the servant girl, “Have you noticed how shapely Belinda has grown? She is a real seductress! Did you notice that man who was here the other day with the fancy shoes – how his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets?”

The servant girl had laughed and said something about Belinda being easy prey for any man.

Belinda hadn’t been able to keep up with their words, hadn’t understood what they meant. But she had gone upstairs and looked at her reflection in the little bathroom mirror. It wasn’t an easy task, but if she stood on a chair she was able to see one portion at a time. And even she could see that the girls were right. Her waist was rather narrow, but she was exceptionally voluptuous both above and below it. And – to her great horror – if she looked at her face she could detect that longing that burned within her! She could see it in the red fullness of her lips, in the searching unrest of her sultry look, and she discerned her own impatience in her every move.

All at once she thought of something Signe had said. Something incomprehensible, just like so many other things. Well, no, not incomprehensible! She had felt that tingling feeling once again. “When a man touches you, Belinda, you turn into wax in his hands. All you want is to envelop him ... oh no, but you would not understand any of that yet.”

Yes, Belinda had a hunch. Signe had spoken about Herbert and ...

Now she cast a fearful glance at Herbert. No, she couldn’t imagine that situation with him! Only in connection with Signe.

Her own dream of a man who could extinguish her burning desire was very vague. Strangely enough, he always came riding towards her – she didn’t understand why. The next moment he would be standing in her chamber, whereupon the reverie would dissolve into confusion because she couldn’t figure out what was supposed to happen then.

No, she had to think of the present now!

What was it they were talking about?

Her parents called him “Mr Abrahamsen” and not “Herbert”, despite the fact that he had been their son-in-law. He hadn’t expressed any interest in being on more intimate terms with them.

“Well, that’s settled then,” said her mother. “Belinda will come and live with you and take care of your daughter. I think she can manage that.”

“Oh, yes,” Belinda cried out in enthusiasm. “I’d really like to do that, thank you!”

Her father continued as though no one had heard her. “And when the year of mourning is over we can discuss the wedding. It will be an impressive wedding again, because we don’t spare any expense, as you know, Mr Abrahamsen.”

Once again, things looked grim for Belinda. “No, I won’t do that. I am willing to look after Signe’s little girl but I’m not interested in a wedding.”

“Belinda!” said her mother. “Now, look what you’re doing, spilling sugar all over the table,” she whispered angrily. “Oh, good God, now the sugar bowl has fallen on the floor! Must you always be so startled by the slightest thing?”

She took her innocent daughter by the ear and led her out of the room. Outside she shook Belinda back and forth so hard the girl thought her ear might fall off.

“Just what do you think you’re doing? Do you think gentlemen are standing in line to propose to you? We were worried that we’d be stuck with you as an old maid!”

“But isn’t that what you wanted?” Belinda lamented humbly. “You thought it was perfectly fine to have someone living in the house who could care for you in your old age.”

“That was something with which we consoled ourselves,” her mother hissed as she shook her again. “And then you receive this exceptional proposal from such a man! Which any other girl would be overjoyed to receive! Don’t you understand how lucky you are? You should be thankful that there is anyone at all who wants you. Now you’re going back in there with me and this time you’re going to behave yourself!”

Her mother let go of her ear and was shocked to see how bloody her fingers were.

When Belinda went back in, humbled, Herbert Abrahamsen signalled for her to come over to him. He said in a gentle voice, “Your father and I have been discussing it a little and we have agreed not to say any more about the marriage until you have lived at Elistrand for a little while and seen whether you like living there with me. You are also very young. But I know how much you meant to my beloved Signe and I think she would have wished for you to care for little Lovise.”

“I think so, too,” Belinda said eagerly. “And I’ll be sure to do my very best! You won’t be able to tell the difference between Signe and me: everything will be exactly as it was when she was alive!”

The others concealed pitying smiles.

Herbert seemed relieved, Belinda thought. She wasn’t sure why but she thought that perhaps it had to do with the fact that he wouldn’t have to marry her right away? That was how she felt, anyway. So why had he asked for her hand?

No, it was simply beyond her.

Then he stood up.

Her parents couldn’t help bringing their little saint, Signe, into the conversation. “Oh, why wasn’t it Signe we were allowed to keep? It’s so unfair!” they lamented as they looked towards the heavens that had robbed them of their daughter. That they were hurting Belinda in doing so was most likely not something they considered. Or perhaps they were used to her always agreeing with them on that score.

When the parents were alone in their bedroom, the mother loosened her corset, causing her liberated lungs and other organs to emit a hollow ring.

“She’ll probably give in once she has lived with him for a while. What a handsome man! And so wealthy!”

“Hmm,” the father said, letting his pantaloons fall to the floor, which made the tails of his shirt flutter. “We had better prepare for the wedding: there are only three months left until the year of mourning is over. The girl doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

“No, but it will all work out once she’s there. And it’s all very proper because our beloved Herbert’s mother, Tilda, lives in the house as well,” said the mother, as she took out some hairpins.

“I don’t understand it. Belinda has always been so compliant! It’s not like her at all. I feel so ashamed.”

“No, she’s starting to get difficult. But we’ll straighten her out.”

The mother sat on the edge of the bed. “Our beloved Signe would never have behaved like that. She was so grateful for her husband.”

“Well,” the father grunted. “She complained about his mother ...”

“She most certainly did not!” the mother cried. “Signe’s marriage was perfect!”

In her room, Belinda was kneeling by her bed with clasped hands.

“Dear St George,” she prayed. She thought herself too unworthy to pray directly to God or Jesus, but had found a guardian angel in St George because he looked so handsome in a picture she had once seen. For this past year he had had, in Belinda’s imagination, a horse, dark hair and a short cloak. “Dear St George, thank you for not making me marry Herbert Abrahamsen! He is Signe’s, and she would probably be angry with me if I did. Greet her from me and tell her that I won’t do it: that will make her happy. I simply cannot marry him, St George, not just because of Signe, but he’s already been used! Also, Signe was my own sister and ... no, where was I? Oh, yes, please help me to care for Signe’s child properly. I have only seen little Lovise once, at the christening, but she was very sweet. I won’t drop her, I promise. And I promise to be just like Signe, so please help me to do that! And dearest St George, thank you for letting me go to Graastensholm Parish again, it’s so beautiful. Say hello to God for me and thank him.”