Watch the Wall, My Darling

by Jane Aiken Hodge

  “You’ve never forgiven her?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because she is your mother. Family’s important, Ross. I’ve been learning that. It means something. Oh—I can’t explain …”

  “Family? A mother like mine! As silly—do you know, last night, when Sophie had hysterics—oh, you weren’t here, but she did, you know. Suddenly, I saw—she’s just like my mother.”

  “Oh, poor Ross …”

  “You may well say so. Chris! Come back, look at me.” She had moved a little away from him to gaze in her turn out the window at drizzling rain. Now, he took her hand and pulled her around to face him.

  An involuntary shiver ran through her at his touch, and at the same time she knew that he felt nothing. She threw back her head to look him in the eyes. “Yes?”

  “I know what a fool I’ve been. At least, give me credit for that. And somehow, my very madness has made me see things more clearly. I never meant to marry, you know. The idea was intolerable. Now—I don’t know—everything seems different. There are … responsibilities … the marshmen … the place … the family—you’re right about that, Chris. Oh, I know I’m a fine one to talk. I, the living blot on the family scutcheon to be talking of family! But someone must think of it. You know as well as I do, Richard thinks of this place merely in terms of money.”

  “And you love it.”

  “Yes … yes, I do. Well, you know how it is. I’ve worked for it, and that’s what makes you love something. You must understand that. You’ve done the same thing. And that’s why, Chris … I’ll be honest with you. I can’t offer you love, but … marry me, and I promise you a full life’s partnership. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. Be mine. Be my wife.”

  Oh God, but she was tempted. “Ross—I don’t know—I must think—”

  “Of course. There’s no hurry. Think about it, Chris, think what a partnership we’d make, you and I, how much we could do. But … take your time, Chris. I’ve spoken too soon, I know. We could not, decently, announce our engagement for a while anyway, for that poor child’s sake. Is she very cut up today?”

  She dropped his hand as if it burned her. “She’s very snug in bed, eating comfits and crying over Clarissa Harlowe. And as for us, Ross, I can give you your answer now. You do me great honor in even considering marrying me, when, as you yourself say, you have always found the idea of marriage intolerable. Well, so do I. To marry without love, to make myself a slave for no reason. Why should I, Ross? Answer me that, why should I?”

  “Oh, God, Chris, I don’t know. What can I say to you?”

  “Nothing to the purpose, that’s certain.” Anger had carried her so far … now, suddenly, it failed her. He looked, in his bafflement, so lost, so strangely young.… She reached for a memory that would blow the saving anger hot again. “How can you, Ross? Ask me to marry you, to be your partner, when, not so long ago, you thought me capable of betraying you to M. Tissot?”

  “Of betraying …” He had forgotten all about it. “Oh that! I did not know you, Chris. I’ve told you, I’ve been a fool. Do you know, I’m even grateful to Sophie. That madness of mine, that infatuation with her, it’s taught me a great deal. I see more, somehow, than I used to.”

  “Oh well.” She managed a shrug. “Perhaps in the end, you will manage to see your way to marrying her.”

  “Never! Chris, I know I’ve done this all wrong …”

  She smiled at him. “You have, haven’t you? But never mind, Ross, nothing you said could have made any difference. There’s no right way to a marriage without love. Now, come, sit down, forget all about it, and let us think what we are to do about Grandfather.”

  “Your grandfather, not mine.”

  “Oh, must you be so tiresome!” Again, anger was a relief.

  “I’m sorry, Chris, but, you know, my life’s not been an easy one.”

  “Frankly, Ross, nor has mine. Whose is, come to that? So let’s leave being sorry for ourselves, shall we, and consider what’s best to do next. And, to begin with, you are really set on rejoining the army?”

  “More than anything in the world. It’s the answer to everything. With the least bit of luck I’ll be killed.”

  “And that, of course, will be the greatest comfort to us all! In the meantime, I believe I have an idea of how to deal with Grandfather. You’ll leave it to me?”

  “Gladly. You cannot possibly make more of a botch of things than I have contrived to. But what will you tell him?”

  “The truth, to begin with. He must know that our engagement’s off. We’ve sailed under false colors long enough. It’s my fault. I should never have agreed in the first place.”

  “I should never have asked you.”

  She laughed. “No, but it’s a little late in the day now to be worrying about that. Let us think, instead, on what grounds we are to break it off. Shall we quarrel, Ross?” Miraculous to keep her voice so light. “Or—better, surely—why don’t you plead guilty to your passion for Sophie?”

  “No!” Explosively. “I tell you, that’s over. It doesn’t exist.”

  “That’s what you think today. But tomorrow?”

  “Don’t, Chris. I know I’ve been a fool, but even my folly has its limits. Not tomorrow, not ever. No, we must tell the truth.”

  “It will make a change.” And then, recovering the lighter note. “It will also make Grandfather furious. It might even kill him. You know what Dr. Pembly said. No, Ross, let me handle this. It will be better so.”

  “But what will you say?”

  “I shall tell him enough of the truth—that I’ve changed my mind. It’s a woman’s privilege, after all. And God knows there are grounds enough ready to my hand. Grandfather’s no fool. He’s seen you mooning after Sophie … everyone has. He may be angry, but he won’t be surprised.”

  “Mooning?” Ross was angry now, and she was glad. “Not a pretty word.”

  “No.” She left it at that.

  “Oh, you’re right, of course. I deserve nothing better. But that’s just it. I’ve behaved monstrously enough to you already. How can I let you take the blame for breaking off our engagement? Grandfather will be furious.”

  “And you think I’d rather be publicly jilted than face his rage? I thank you, Ross … no. You are going to be thrown over, and like it. I’m not sure that I shall not make you a public scene.” She could not help smiling at his appalled expression. “Don’t worry, I doubt if I could rely on you to do it right. It’s a pity though.” Thoughtfully. “I rather fancy myself in the part. No, we’ll have our quarrel in private—we’ve just had it now, in fact, and I will take the next opportunity to break the news to Grandfather. Have I your permission, if the chance serves, to tell him of your plan to rejoin your regiment?”

  “Whatever you think best, Chris. I’m in your hands. And how I’m to thank you—”

  “Oh, at least, Cousin, spare me that.”

  It was a day for confrontations. She had hardly escaped from Ross when her Aunt Tretteign cornered her in the stillroom. “Christina!”

  “Yes, Aunt?”

  “I have been wishing for a word with you.”

  “Oh?” It was the last thing she wanted. “Will you not find it cold in here?”

  For once, the appeal to hypochondria failed. “Yes, but it can’t be helped. I know my duty, Christina, and I intend to do it.”

  “Oh?” This was a new departure.

  “Yes. How long do you expect me to sit back and watch you pulling the wool over your grandfather’s eyes? Fooling him to the top of his bent, the whole lot of you, that’s what you’re doing. And it’s time it stopped. You know as well as I do that Ross and Richard are both mad for that little hussy Sophie—”

  “You mean my sister?”

  “Come now, Christina, no need to play the stoic with me. You know as well as I do how she’s put your nose out of joint. Well, I mean, just look at it. Before she arrived, you had your choice of Ross and Richard. And now …”


  “I look like wearing the willow. You are perfectly right, of course, Aunt. My only question is, what concern is it of yours?”

  “What concern! Be a little reasonable, girl. Can you pretend to have forgotten the terms of your grandfather’s will? If he were to die now, the Grange would go to the Patriotic Fund, and then where would we be—any of us?”

  “Where indeed? But, tell me, Aunt, what do you expect me to do about it?”

  “God knows! But something. I always thought you a girl of resource, Christina, but now—the way you have lain down and let that mother and sister of yours ride roughshod over you—why, I find it merely pitiful.”

  “What a strange thing. Now, I feel quite differently about them.”

  “Oh … you … you’re just a born victim. I suppose it’s because of having no finer feelings. Now, if you had my sensibilities—”

  “How glad I am, Aunt, that I have not. Do you really think life would be any happier for us all if I were to take up hysteria? But, let’s not be angry with each other. You’re right of course. It’s time my grandfather understood how the land lies, and, indeed, I have just had it out with Ross.” Now was the moment to promulgate the idea of a quarrel between them.

  “Had it out? That sounds ominous.” Mrs. Tretteign breathed curiosity.

  “Yes. I hope I have given Ross something to think about over and above poor Sophie’s charms.”

  “You mean you have actually sent him to the right-about. Oh, good girl, good girl! I truly did not think you had it in you.”

  “You mean you are pleased?” Impossible not to be disconcerted.

  “Of course I am, child. It was the most ridiculous arrangement from the start. Well—I mean, anyone could see you and Ross didn’t care a rush for each other—why should you, two such strong characters?” She did not make it sound a virtue. “But if you have pulled yourself together at last, and given him his congé—why, the way is open for us all to be happy.”

  “I’m glad you think so, though I fail to see quite how.”

  “But it’s so obvious, child. Ross and Sophie, you and Richard. Impossible for your grandfather to object to that.”

  “And Richard?”

  “Well …” She had the grace to blush. “Of course, he has been dangling rather after Sophie, but then, he thought he had no chance with you. I tell you, love, Richard’s a man of the world. And, of course, no question about it, if you and he marry, you’ll get the Grange. Old Mr. Tretteign is angry enough with Ross as it is. Once tell him you’ve broken your engagement, and he can whistle for his inheritance.”

  “You think so?” It was exactly what she herself feared.

  “Of course. He’s a bad man to cross, your grandfather. Well—there you are. You and I know Richard’s plans for the Grange. He’ll sell it, and we will all be happy. Only, my love, you will be careful how you break the news to your grandfather, won’t you? Just think if it should kill him.”

  Christina had had enough. “The Patriotic Fund would be the gainer,” she said shortly. “And now, if you will excuse me, Aunt, I really must get back to my housekeeping.”

  “Such a capable girl!” Sudden venom in her aunt’s voice told Christina how much she had been resented. “Bailiff, and housekeeper, and all. And as for this idea of yours of commencing school mistress, of all the crackbrained notions—I warn you that there are not many gentlemen who can abide a bluestocking. You would do better, if you ask me, to apply yourself to more feminine pursuits. I rather think the gentlemen—”

  “Would prefer it if I took up swooning? Well, Aunt, I’m sorry to disappoint you and them, but it’s not a thing I’m capable of—I hope.” And she put an effective end to the conversation by climbing a stepladder and beginning an exhaustive, if enraged, inventory of the household’s supply of preserves.

  She was sure she could rely on her aunt to spread the news of her supposed quarrel with Ross; it was merely a question of how long it would take. She was therefore not surprised to be summoned into her mother’s bedroom just as the changing bell was ringing.

  “What’s this about you and Ross?” Mrs. Tretton came straight to the point.

  “I’ve broken our engagement—if you could ever call it one.”

  Her mother nodded. “Wise, I think.” Thank God, she could be relied on to avoid intolerable sympathy. “But the old man will be very angry.”

  “Yes—that’s my next problem.”

  “What will you tell him?”

  “As little as I can manage.… Ross means to rejoin the army.”

  Mrs. Tretton threw back her head and laughed. “Of course! And leave you to sort out the muddle he has made of his life. He’s quite disillusioned with my poor Sophie, is he not?”

  “For the moment.”

  “Yes. Let us hope he does not leave too soon. We must certainly have a few more riding parties before he goes.”

  “Mother!” But Christina could not help laughing. “You don’t mean you intended poor Sophie to have that fall!”

  “Well, so long as she was not hurt. No, of course I did not mean that. I just thought that out riding … if things won’t arrange themselves, love, one has to give them a little push here and there. That’s a woman’s way. And, as for Sophie, don’t fret about her. She’ll be all the better … I’ve my plans for her, too, you know.”

  “I’m sure you have. But—Ross and Richard—you don’t think …” Impossible quite to get it into words.

  “She cares for either of them? Nonsense. Of course she doesn’t. Between ourselves, I’m not sure, dear child, that she is capable of caring very strongly for anyone but herself. That is why I am so sure of a good match for her. She’ll do what I tell her, that one, which is more than I have ever been able to say for you, love.”

  “No—and look where it has got me.”

  “Don’t, chérie. It’s not worth it.” But she passed her a clean handkerchief. “I’m sure you did not let him see you cared.”

  “Ross? Of course not. He’s no more idea of it than the man in the moon.” She dabbed at her eyes angrily.

  “Good girl. If you can keep it like that … he’s vulnerable now, you know. Passion leaves room for passion.”

  “I wish I was dead.”

  “Nonsense. And if you’re not careful, you’ll be late for dinner. Wear your red tonight, love, it will put some color into your cheeks.”

  “Go down with all flags flying?” But she did as her mother suggested and was glad of the consciousness of looking her best when, immediately after dinner, she and Ross were summoned to old Mr. Tretteign’s room.

  His first words were hardly encouraging. “I’ve sent for you to hear your wedding plans. It’s been shill-I, shall-I long enough. Now, I want to see something settled.”

  “But, Grandfather.” Christina was ready for this. “I don’t want to get married yet.”

  “Don’t want, eh? And what has ‘don’t want’ to do with it?”

  “A good deal, Grandfather. I’m of age, you know, and more. I can’t be forced into anything.”

  “I doubt if you ever could.” Grudging respect in his tone.

  She laughed. “Thank you. So—Ross, you’ll not mind if I speak plainly?”

  “Of course not.” But he looked alarmed.

  She had thought hard during the afternoon and had changed her plan for dealing with the old man. Ross’s very surprise at the line she took would lend it conviction. And there would even be a tenuous thread of satisfaction in it for her. “Well then,” she plunged in, “how can you expect me, an American girl, with a mind of my own, to consider marrying someone who just stays at home like a tame cat about the house, when the future of the world is being settled, in blood and tears? Send Ross away. Make him rejoin the army and do something in the world! Then, when he comes back, I’ll marry him, if he wants me to.” A challenging look told Ross not to believe this.

  “Well I’ll be damned.” The old man believed her and his words came out like an explosion. “What do you thi
nk you are, girl, a Roman matron?”

  “No, just a woman who wants to marry a man, not a puppet. You know I can run the estate as well as Ross. How can I respect him if that’s all he does? And, I tell you, I won’t marry a man I can’t respect. Well, why should I?”

  “Because you’ll starve if you don’t.”

  “You’ve forgotten my father’s estate. And my mother’s not exactly a pauper, you know.” And then, appealingly, “Dear Grandfather, don’t let’s quarrel. You know I’ve promised to do as you wish—in the end.”

  “In your own time! But how much time have I? Answer me that, girl, if you can.”

  “The doctor was very pleased with you, last time he came.”

  “Doctors! Pah! I tell you, I may die any day, any hour, any minute—and, before I do, I want the future of the Grange settled. A grandchild would be best …” And then, ‘That’s it—and be damned to the lot of you. Christina, write Foxton to come at once. The Grange goes to the first grandson bearing the name of Tretteign.” He was shaking with excitement now. “And as for you, Ross, join the army, if you like, but don’t expect a penny-worth of help from me.”

  “Grandfather, that’s not fair.” This was Christina. “You know how hard he’s worked for you here.”

  “Keep quiet, girl. He’s had his board and lodging, hasn’t he? Horses to ride? Clothes to wear? Stay here, Ross, do the work you’re fit for, and your allowance continues. Go haring off to London on this crackbrained scheme of yours and—phut … finish.”

  “Very well.” Ross stood up. “I’m sorry, sir, but … finish it is.”

  “You’ll starve.” Was the old man already wishing he had been less definite?

  “I doubt that. And if I do, I promise you I’ll do it quietly, not to disgrace the name”—a cloud crossed his face—“the name I bear. And that reminds me, sir, you’d best think hard and draw your new will carefully. Suppose I were to marry the first girl I met on the way to London. Her son would be called Tretteign, and, in the world’s sight, your grandson.”