Books 5-8: Whiteoak Heritage / Whiteoak Brothers / Jalna / Whiteoaks of Jalna

by Mazo de La Roche

  She distrusted night air and did not mind having her parrot free in her room, or his seeds or feathers scattered about.

  Now, however, it was almost noon, the window stood wide open and the heavy white plumes of the lilac tree beyond it added their scent to the air.

  Eden bent over her and kissed her between the eyes. The hairs of her eyebrows were strong and he was conscious of the fine white ruching on her cap.

  “What mischief now” she demanded.

  “No mischief, Gran. Business.”

  She appeared not to take this in but applied herself, breathing audibly, to the washing of her rings.

  “I like that ruby ring,” he said.

  “Aye. It’s a fine stone. A rajah gave it me.”

  “I wish I knew all your past, Granny.”

  That caught her humour and she chuckled.

  “Some day I’ll tell you and you may make a poem about it.”

  “An epic, Gran.”

  “You’ll not get it out of me by flattery.”

  “You’ve tremendous suds in the basin. Would you like me to wash the rings for you?”

  “No, no. I like something to busy myself with. When you get to my age it doesn’t take much to amuse you…. A little soap and water. A few rings to wash.”

  Eden dropped to his knees and his bright glance sought her. Seeing his face thus close she had a good look at it. She said — “You’re too handsome. You’ll have trouble with women.”

  “Renny’s the one they’re after.”

  “Him! I hope he’ll make a better husband than did my father that he’s the spit of.”

  “I love when you’re common, Granny.”

  She grinned. “Who was it? Longfellow? Who said that about not losing the common touch?”

  Hilarious, Eden answered — “Longfellow. The best thing he ever wrote.”

  She dried the rings and restored them to her fingers, then spread out her hands to admire.

  “Not bad-looking hands for a woman of my age, eh? I’ve had them for near a hundred years.”

  “I’ve always admired your hands, Gran.”

  She clasped them on her stomach and flung at him suddenly — “This business. What’s it about?”

  He’d half made up his mind not to tell her of his scheme. It was too dangerous. She perceived the hesitation on his face. “Come now,” she said, “tell me. I like to hear about business affairs — if they’re sensible.”

  “I don’t think this would interest you, Gran.”

  “Then why did you shut the door?”

  The moment had come. He could not resist it. He took her hand, with the rings still moist and warm on it, in his. He said low — “It’s a gold mine, Granny. Up in the North. A wonderful chance for anyone who has money to invest. It’s just being developed. A wonderful rich vein. Fortunes are being made out of it. I know a man —”

  “Gold!” she interrupted with avidity. “Gold, eh?” Had it been silver or any other metal she would not have been interested. But the word “gold” fired her imagination. Gold she could understand.

  Her parrot, which had been tossing seeds from his cup in search for his favourites, now cocked his head and rapped out — “Gold! Gold! Gold! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”

  Adeline Whiteoak clapped her hands together. “Hark to him! He knows every word we say.”

  “It’s a good omen,” laughed Eden, taking her two hands in his. “Listen, Gran.”

  “Yes, yes. Tell me all.” She was not only interested but complaisant to hear the whole story of the Indigo Lake Mine. Eden, now becoming a glib promoter, poured it out, embroidering the material recital with colourful and poetic words. She leant closer, drinking it in, her mouth open a little, the strong curling hairs on her chin quivering. The parrot sprang from his perch and alighted on her shoulder screaming — “Gold — gold — pieces of eight — pieces of eight!” in passionate repetition.

  Eden showed her the coloured folder, the machinery of the mine pictured against a turquoise-blue sky with Indigo Lake beyond. She made him fetch her magnifying glass from the bureau and she pored over the pictures. She had investments, sound ones, good ones, but nothing in gold. Her imagination, with little to feed it nowadays, was fired. A smouldering resentment she was feeling for her lawyer, Mr. Patton, because of his what she considered overbearing ways made her relish the thought of deceiving him.

  “I’ll do it,” she cried, giving a thump to Eden’s knee. “I’ll do it today.”

  Eden’s heart quickened its beat. “How much, Gran?”

  She frowned, then exclaimed — “Fifty thousand. I’ll invest fifty thousand dollars.”

  He drew back in horror. “Oh, you can’t do that, Granny. It’s too much.”

  She grinned. “I never do things by halves.”

  Eden felt panic. He wished he had not spoken. He folded the prospectus. “This is very tiring for you, Granny,” he said. “Better put it out of your mind.”

  “Now you talk like your Uncle Ernest. This doesn’t tire me. Does me good.”

  “But you mustn’t invest so much.”

  “Who says must and mustn’t to me?”

  She was taking things out of his hands — and she going on for a hundred!

  He said — “Supposing you should lose the money? What then?”

  She arched her neck and her voice came harsh and strong. “I never lose. If the gold is there — it’s there. Is it there?”

  At the mention of gold Boney reiterated — “Pieces of eight — pieces of eight!” Then added in Hidustani — “Kutni — Kutni — Paji — Shaitan ka khatla!”

  Eden said — “Yes. The gold is there all right. It’s a wonderful investment but I do advise you to go slowly at the first. My broker would advise that.”

  “A hundred dollars then.”

  There was a terrible decline. Eden hesitated, not knowing what to say.

  She perceived this and said, with sudden sweetness — “You tell me then.”

  He could not stop himself. He heard himself saying — “What about ten thousand?”

  “Just the right amount,” she agreed, and he felt that she could no longer differentiate between one sum of money and another, though she loved all gain. What troubled him still more was, now that she had agreed to invest in the mine, how to put through the transaction. He knew nothing of business, and dared not enquire of his uncles or Renny.

  Over and over he made her promise to divulge nothing of the scheme to the family. She was becoming very tired and docilely nodded her head, on which the lace of her cap trembled, in agreement. He himself felt tired and wiped his moist brow with his hand when he had closed the door behind him. He was torn between exhilaration and anxiety. Then the image of Mr. Kronk rose before him. There was the man who would know just what to do. He would go to see him that very day.

  He did go to the city, taking the opportunity of driving in with Renny. As he sat beside his elder, bumping over the rough bits in the old car, his eyes slid every now and again toward that hard profile he knew so well. Certainly it was an arresting profile — the nose handsome, with its proud nostrils so like his grandmother’s. Now the mouth and eyes expressed contemptuous concentration, for he disliked motoring and distrusted the car, having rather the attitude toward it of one of his own horses.

  In the city he asked — “Where shall I drop you?”

  Eden hesitated, then said — “Oh, anywhere.”

  “Anywhere? But where do you want to go?”

  “Which way are you going? Anywhere will suit me.”

  Renny gave him a quick look. “What did you come in for then? Just to have a look round?”

  “Well, actually I came in to see another student about some books.”

  “Do you mean he’s going to lend you books? I hope he is, for your books cost like the devil.”

  “He might, if he has what I want. He lives in the Norfolk Apartments.”

  “Good. I can easily drop you there. You’d better go home by tra
in.”

  It was in the Norfolk Apartments that the Kronks lived. Eden found the husband away and the wife at home. Eden was conscious of how glad she was to see him. She used more lipstick than was usual in those days and he saw a touch of eyeshadow beneath her clear light eyes. She was as tall as he, so that their eyes met on a level. She wore one of the long-waisted short-skirted dresses of the time and when they sat down and she crossed her legs Eden noticed how shapely they were. Her silk stockings were more sheer and lighter in colour than any he had seen. She saw the glance he gave them and exclaimed:

  “Since you were last here I’ve been down to New York. I did some shopping. I hope you don’t think these too sheer.” She stretched out her legs side by side, close together, the high-heeled shoes looking ridiculously small for her height.

  “I think they’re very pretty,” Eden said rather nervously, for she was a type new to him. Then he added — “I suppose New York is wonderful. I’ve never been”

  “Ah, wonderful! I did something else besides shop. Haven’t you noticed?”

  He looked her over but could discover nothing different about her.

  He murmured — “You always look so well-dressed.”

  “It’s not clothes. Look!” She bent her head and he saw that her hair was cut short.

  “You’ve had your hair bobbed,” he exclaimed.

  “Not bobbed, it’s shingled. Do tell me you like it. My husband hates it. He liked my hair but it was such a nuisance.”

  “I think this looks very nice.”

  She straightened herself and gave him that confidential smile of hers. “I’m so glad,” she said. “I couldn’t have borne your not liking it.”

  “But I do. I like it awfully well.” His colour rose. He did not quite know what she expected of him and he had but one desire and that was to talk business.

  With sudden matter-of-factness she said — “I’m going to get you a drink.” She went into the dining room, which was separated by only an archway from the living room, and began to busy herself at the sideboard. He stood, rather shyly, watching her from this distance. But while they were drinking their Scotch, he began:

  “I suppose Mr. Kronk was in New York on business.”

  She gave a little chuckle. “He certainly was. Nothing but. My, how those New Yorkers gobbled up the Indigo Lake shares.” She finished her drink with an audible smack of the lips.

  Compared to this his news seemed insignificant. He said — “My grandmother has money she’d like to invest but….”

  Instantly Mrs. Kronk gave him the full attention of her clear light eyes. “Your grandmother? Aren’t you lucky to have so many affluent relations!”

  He did not quite like this. He said, a little stiffly — “The difficulty is that she doesn’t know, nor do I, how to go about selling government bonds and reinvesting. You see, she can’t go to her bank. She’s rather old.”

  “About eighty or more?”

  “More. Considerably.”

  “Couldn’t those uncles of yours arrange it for her?”

  “She’d rather they didn’t know. They’d be all for caution where she’s concerned.”

  “Well, then, all you need is a power of attorney. I have the forms right here. Just get her to sign them.”

  It was all so simple. When Eden left the apartment house, with the forms in his pocket, his exhilaration was such that he had walked some distance before he noticed rain coming down. By the time had had boarded a street car big glittering drops were bouncing on the pavement and the bottoms of his trousers were soaked. On the way to the railway station the street lights came on and by their light he saw at the corner the ten-year-old family car and at the wheel his brother. There was no time in which to buy tickets. Eden thrust his fare to the conductor and pushed his way through the closing door just in time. Through the downpour he reached the running board of the car, rapped on the pane, and was inside just before the jolt with which the master of Jalna invariably started the car threw him on to the seat.

  Renny said — “Well, that was neatly done.”

  “I was mighty glad to see you!”

  “Did you get the books?”

  “The books?”

  “Your friend was going to lend you.”

  “Oh, those! Unfortunately no. The ones he has aren’t of any use to me.”

  His brother threw him the glance of suspicion that seemed always ready beneath his mobile brows, and asked: “Who is this fellow?”

  Eden thought: “Once you’ve been into trouble everyone’s so ready to suspect you — especially old Redhead.” His brain was so excited by the interview with Mrs. Kronk, by the though of the power of attorney in his pocket, that he was less agile in self-defence than usual. He stammered — “Oh, he’s a fellow by the name of —” before he could stop himself he said — “Kronk.”

  “Kronk,” repeated Renny and put the most sinister implications into that syllable. “Who is he?”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t know. He comes from Saskatchewan.”

  “Studying law?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s he doing here in the holidays?”

  “He’s got a job.”

  “How can he afford to live in such an expensive apartment house?”

  “Well — you see — his father’s a very rich man.”

  “Rancher?”

  “Yes — that’s it.”

  “Then why doesn’t this fellow go home to the ranch when he might be of some use instead of taking a job in the city?”

  “Well, you see, he’s had words with his father and doesn’t want to ho home.”

  “H’m.” Renny apparently thought none the better of young Kronk for that. His expression was grim as he took out an old cloth and wiped the steam from the streaming windshield.

  Eden asked pleasantly — “When do you think of buying a new car?”

  Instantly he realized that this was about the last question he should have asked. There was a taciturn silence before his brother returned — “I never think of it.”

  “Never! Good Lord.”

  “There are other things I need much more.”

  The traffic was dense at this point, or so it seemed to them who could not realize what later it would become.

  “In 1903,” said Renny, “there were one hundred and seventy-eight motor vehicles on the road in Ontario. Now, twenty years later, there are two hundred and seventy-eight thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two.”

  Eden stared in wonder. “How on earth do you remember those figures?”

  “Because I’m interested. I dislike ’em so.” He gave a savage grin at the driver of a large new car who had tried to cut in on them.

  Eden said, letting out his breath — “Whew, that was a close call.”

  “He needed a lesson.”

  There was silence till they had left the city and the road was almost deserted. On one hand lay wet summer fields, the heavy heads of the grain drooping under the rain, woodlands where coming night was already welcomed, and on the other the grey expanse of the lake. Renny stopped the car, lighted a cigarette and offered one to Eden who asked: “Did you buy the filly you’ve been speaking of?”

  “No. Worse luck. A man from Pittsburg got in ahead of me. Bought her yesterday.”

  Eden made a sound of sympathy.

  Renny continued — “I should have made a lot of money out of that filly. She’s a beauty. But that is what comes of being short of cash.” He sighed, wiped the windshield and started the car.

  “That was quite a bump,” Eden said, recovering himself.

  “She always starts like that,” returned his elder laconically.

  “Like me to drive?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Eden had a sudden feeling of pity for him. Here he was in need of money, and there was money to be made, and so easily made, in the Indigo Lake enterprise. He had a mind to tell Renny then and there. Indeed it would be unfair, even heartless not to tell him. He need not let him know tha
t any others of the family had invested in the stock. He said:

  “A chap I was talking to this afternoon has been making quite a lot of money out of stocks.”

  “Oh, what stocks?”

  “Mining. A gold mine.”

  “He can have them. Eventually he’ll lose. I’d not put a dollar into mining stocks. There are enough suckers without me. Now I’ll tell you what does interest me. There’s a sale of livestock near Stead next week. Like to come with me?”

  Well, thought Eden, there is no use in trying to do anything for Renny. He simply won’t be helped. But how he’ll regret it when he finds what he’s missed. A thrill ran through his nerves when he thought of the power of attorney in his pocket. The rain continued steady and the wind from the lake was cool. When they passed through the tiny village into the road which led to Jalna only the lights from windows twinkled through the darkness and they passed or met no one. The massive pines, two hundred years old, that still lined this road were embracing their final decade and beneath their arch it was black night. In their own driveway they splashed through puddles between hemlock and spruce and passed the house brightly lighted. Eden would have liked to get out here but they were chatting amiably and he would not interrupt their good-fellowship.

  A dim light came from the stable. Wright, the cheerful head stableman, opened the door to them.

  “Heard you coming, sir. What a night it’s turning out to be!”

  “How’s everything, Wright?”

  “Fine, sir. May I ask if you got the filly?”

  “No. She was sold yesterday.”

  “Too bad. She was a promising one.”

  “Yes.”

  There were fifteen horses in the stable — show horses, polo ponies which were bred and schooled here, and the farm horses. They had been fed, watered, and bedded down for the night. Some had lain down to rest but others stood watching out of lustrous eyes the approach of the three men. Renny moved past stalls and loose boxes speaking to each, putting out a hand to caress a pet. The mare Cora, his favourite saddle horse, got up with a clatter of hooves when she heard the loved voice and uttered a deep-throated whinny. Renny went into the loose box to put an arm about her and she swung her carven head to nuzzle him.

  Eden, with the smell of clean straw, the smell of well-cared-for beasts in his nostrils, studied the picture made by man and horse in the loose box. He found in them a curious resemblance. It was in the bold naked lines of the head, in the look of wariness, of sensitivity to the physical world. As Renny talked with Wright Eden saw how the two recovered from their disappointment. Renny was cheerful when he said good-night to Wright and went out into the rain with Eden.