He sauntered almost jauntily to his mother’s room. She was already dressed for the wedding. He bent and kissed her.
“How early you are dressed, Mamma,” he said.
“Anticipation is the best part of a wedding,” she replied.
“I hope this one will turn out well. While these two are not perfect as servants, they have their merits. She is an excellent cook and he will turn his hand to anything. I hope they appreciate what you are doing for them today.”
“I like a party. The wedding breakfast is to be laid on tables on the drying green. The Rector and his wife are coming and the Lacey girls and Lily Pink. Weddings always amuse them. I’ve also asked that man Dayborn and his sister, and told them to bring their child. Then there’s that Mrs. Stroud. I want to see you and her together.”
“There will be nothing in that to interest you, Mamma. I’ve given up.”
She stared up at him from under the lace edging of her cap.
“Given up what?”
“Mrs. Stroud. It is useless for me to interfere. Eden and she are attached beyond my undoing. In fact, it is I who am undone.”
“D’ye mean to say you can’t cut out that stripling?”
“Yes. No one can say that I haven’t tried. I have given up time when I should have been working on my book. My own feelings even have become involved.”
“Ha! She is a charmer then!”
“Of the most dangerous sort, for she has no beauty, though she has fine eyes and an alluring voice.”
“I wish we had sent Nicholas to do the job.”
“So indeed do I. He would have undertaken it as an adventure. I accepted it as a crusade.”
The more Ernest talked, the more pleased he was with the situation. He wished that Augusta might have been there to hear him. But his mother was impressed. He confided to her the details of his many visits to Mrs. Stroud. He told her of the dice throwing of the night before.
Her shaggy eyebrows went up.
“A duel! ’Pon my word it was next thing to a duel! You’ve heard of the duel that was fought for me, when I was but fifteen. ’Twas between Lord Boyne and young Tim Crawshay. They fought with swords for an hour. My brother Abram held the hourglass in his hand. They fought till they fell down exhausted, but they were such fine swordsmen that neither of them had a scratch!”
Ernest had heard the story many times but he becomingly asked:
“Which did you favour after that, Mamma?”
“Neither. While they fought I sat waiting with a young Lieutenant of the Guards. He was so sympathetic that I took no notice of either of them again.”
“I hope that you feel that I did my best, Mamma.”
“I do, Ernest. But I wish it had been Nick. Gout and all, I think he would have beat you.”
“Mamma, no man living could do more than I have done. I have been tossed like a billow on the brine. Mrs. Stroud is infatuated with Eden.”
Adeline thrust out her lips. “Then I will have something to say to her.”
By afternoon the breeze fell. It was hotter than ever. The brilliant breathless air enmeshed the countryside in a golden veil in which a thousand crickets, locusts and grasshoppers sang; the fluff of milkweed and pollen of goldenrod hung; the voices of farm workers and neigh of horses were muffled.
Eliza looked cool and collected but the poor bride, after a final encounter with the wedding breakfast, was crimson-faced and, as she herself said, in a lather of sweat. Eliza clothed her in a garment of talcum powder before squeezing her into the new silk dress.
As for Rags, he was wearing a morning suit which had been Renny’s before the War. A tailor had cut it down for him but it still was somewhat long in leg and sleeve, and the tails almost reached his knees. However, the tailor had made a good job of the shoulders and, as this part was all Rags saw of himself in the small looking glass in his room, he was in a state of high satisfaction. He was pallid as the bride was flushed, as spare as she was full bosomed, as composed as she was flustered.
Rags walked across the fields to the church with a Cockney groom with whom he had struck up a friendship. Renny drove the bride in the dogcart. He was to give her away. Eden took Meg and his younger brothers in the car, while old Hodge, the coachman, drove the carriage wherein sat Adeline, Ernest and little Wakefield.
There were a number of people already in the church when they arrived, for work on farm and in stables had ceased for the occasion. The friends of the family were in the front pews. There was a scattering of people from the village in the back of the church.
Eden slid into a pew beside Mrs. Stroud who was sitting alone. He made facetious remarks to her under his breath about the groom’s costume, the bride’s colour and the company in general. Rags was just not comic as he stood waiting by the chancel steps. But there was a dignity about him, a savoir faire, that induced the negative.
Miss Pink, having scrubbed her hands with her pocket handkerchief, fervently produced the wedding march on the organ. Adeline craned her neck, while holding Wakefield close, to watch the approach of the bride. Renny, wearing the austere expression of a father who is not positive that he is giving his daughter to a man worthy of her, led the cook up the aisle. She suddenly bloomed into a shy and trustful bride. She savoured every moment of this greatest day of her life. As they passed Adeline, Wakefield struggled on her knee.
“I want to go too!” his little voice piped.
“Hush,” she admonished him and pressed his face against the crepe of her veil.
Eden whispered to Mrs. Stroud — “What if it were you and me!”
She coloured deeply and her fingers touched his hand that lay on the seat between them.
Piers whispered to Finch — “I wonder if Eden changed his pants!”
Finch gave a suffocated giggle. The sound of it horrified him. Then he heard himself give another. He clenched his hands till his nails hurt him. The back of his not too well washed neck grew red. He shook with giggles. Meg looked across Piers at him and beckoned. He clambered across Piers’s knees and sat on Meg’s other side. When he dared raise his eyes he beheld Mr. Fennel, the Rector, performing the last of the ceremony.
Now they were man and wife, grappled together for a long serving of the Whiteoaks. The master of Jalna bent his red head ceremoniously and imprinted a kiss on the cheek of the bride.
The wedding cake, made by the bride but iced elaborately by a confectioner, stood in the middle of the long table. The table was conveniently close to the kitchen so that platters could be replenished with ease. All commonizing articles such as clotheslines and props had been removed from the scene. The grass had been shaved and watered. A great bunch of dahlias stood near the cake.
It was an impressive sight to see Rags escort old Adeline to her place at the head of the table. She had removed her mantle and bonnet and wore a mauve-and-white cap with rosettes of ribbon.
“Who but you, dear Mrs. Whiteoak,” said the eldest Miss Lacey who had once been a flame of Nicholas’s, “would have thought of doing anything so charming!”
“It’s not the first party I’ve given for my servants.”
“Indeed, I remember others. But this is especially kind as they have not been with you very long.”
“Time flies when you’re past ninety,” returned Adeline, “I’ll not be here to give them a silver wedding breakfast.”
“I wish Nicholas had been here.”
“I think he stayed in Quebec to avoid it. He has no taste for such junketings.”
“I declare,” said Miss Pink, “my fingers stuck with heat to the keys of the organ! I thought I’d never get through with the march. What a pretty thing that young Mrs. Cummings is! But how strange of her to have brought her baby to a wedding.”
“I invited him. To my mind there’s no more appropriate guest at a wedding than a baby.”
“Oh yes,” agreed Miss Pink faintly.
Ernest found himself beside Mrs. Stroud. He was not distressed by this. He was his usual
detached, urbane self. She was conscious of a change in him but could not have named what it was. It was probably, she thought, the presence of his family. Eden, on the other hand, was so openly attentive to her as to be embarrassing. Yet she gloried in his attentions.
It was an irritation to her that Dayborn was seated opposite her. His expression was stony. He spoke only in answer to questions and then taciturnly. Chris looked heavy-eyed, as though she had shed tears. It was characteristic of Amy Stroud that the scene of the night before had finally closed the door of her friendship against them. Their plight moved her to no generous impulse.
Renny was rising. He said:
“It is with real pleasure that I propose the health of the bride. Not only for her own sake and the sake of her husband but for the sakes of all of my family. Four times every day I bless her. In the morning with her good porridge inside me I go to my stables as ready for work as any horse there. At noon I return, knowing that a delicious joint and a tempting sweet await me. At tea time I know that the tea will be hot and that there will be plenty of it. At night — well, her suppers invariably fill the bill. What more can a man want in his bride — except beauty and charm and, if anyone doubts that Mrs. Wragge possesses both, let him look at her smiling there. As for Rags — he is in some ways a better cook than she, because she has to have good materials and plenty of them (I know that because of the bills I pay) but, when Rags and I were at the front and he said ‘There’s not a blasted thing to eat, sir, but what’s in this tin, and the carcass of a hen’ — then I knew that a particularly good feed was coming. I foresee a long happy union for these two and I have great pleasure in proposing the health of the bride.”
He sat down.
“Hear! hear!” said the Rector, who had eaten a particularly large meal.
“Very good,” said Ernest, thinking how much better he could have done it.
The bride’s health was drunk. She blushed furiously.
“Now then,” urged the best man, kicking the groom under cover of the table.
Wragge rose with trembling but conscious of the elegance of his appearance. He bowed profoundly. His emotions gave a touch of poignancy to his Cockney accent.
“Lidies and gentlemen, I want to thank you very much for your good wishes to my wife —”
He was interrupted by loud applause, led by Piers. He bowed again and proceeded:
“My wife and myself. This ’ere getting married is new to me and that there ceremony at the church a greater hordeal than shell fire. I little thought, when I came to Jalner, that I’d get ’itched up so soon but I believe I’ve made a good choice. Mrs. Wragge and I feel like old family retainers. When I first went to Captain Whiteoak as ’is batman in France, I says to myself — ‘That’s the gentleman I’m going to stick to in ’ealth or — blown to bits!’ And so I ’ave and so I will.” He sat down and wiped the perspiration from his face with one of the dozen silk handkerchiefs which were Meg’s present to him.
The cheering, led by Piers, was vociferous.
The day continued fine and hot. The married pair set out for Niagara Falls. Eliza took the reins into her hands. The gramophone had been brought out and Finch put on one record after another, till the three pieces of wedding cake he had eaten began to have their effect on him. He went down to the washroom in the basement and was sick. The family and their friends retired to the house, leaving the rest of the guests to enjoy themselves unhampered. Dayborn seized the first opportunity to draw Renny aside.
XV
CONTRASTING SCENES
“I WANT TO tell you something,” said Dayborn. “Can we go in here?”
He jerked his head toward the open door of the sitting room. The folding doors between it and the dining room were shut. Renny nodded and they went in, closing the door behind them.
“What’s up?” asked Renny, wondering if Dayborn again wanted an advance of wages.
Dayborn answered in a tense voice — “We’ve got to go.”
“Go! When? Why? What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Stroud has given us notice to get out of her house. She gives us three days.”
“The hell she has! How much are you behind with the rent?”
“Two months. That has nothing to do with it. She doesn’t want such near neighbours.”
“D’you mean the noise?”
“Lord, no! Just the proximity. She doesn’t want her doings spied on.”
“Do you spy on her?”
“If you call it spying to stand in your own door before you go to bed. Your uncle and your brother were both there last night. You may say there’s safety in numbers but I say the woman is a bitch. I’d put nothing past her. I wish you’d heard her fly at me when she discovered I’d seen things. There was no innocence there. She simply raged. Told us to get out. If you want my opinion of her I’ll give it.”
“Yes?”
“She’s no better than a prostitute. Not as good, for there’s no necessity in it.”
Renny knit his brow. For the moment his chief concern was that Dayborn and Chris had nowhere to go. He said:
“It’s a devil of a mess. There’s not a vacant house anywhere about. There’s no one who takes lodgers. How long does she give you?”
“Three days.”
“She was in a temper. She’s probably over it now.”
“Not she. She hasn’t spoken to either of us today.”
“I’ll see her. Perhaps something can be done. But first I want to see my uncle. Find him, will you, and tell him I want to speak to him here. How are Launceton’s legs?”
“He’s still nibbling at them. It’s just nerves. They’re not filling up.”
“He’s been working too hard in the heat. Tell Scotchmere to bandage them.”
“All right. I’ll send your uncle here first.” He opened the door. Mrs. Stroud’s rich laugh came from the drawing room. Dayborn stood with his hand on the doorknob. “In the first place,” he said, “she’s a social climber and so I told her.”
“You blasted fool,” said Renny.
He stood motionless thinking till Ernest came. He closed the door behind him.
“What is that young Dayborn so mysterious about?” he asked.
“There’s no mystery. Mrs. Stroud has ordered him and his family to leave their house in three days. There was a row last night after you and Eden left.”
There was no embarrassment in Ernest’s face. He replied urbanely — “Really! I’m sorry for that. But we can’t do anything about it, can we?”
“Do anything! I can’t part with Dayborn and Chris now. They’re too important to me!”
“If the rent is paid I don’t think Mrs. Stroud can force them to go without a month’s notice.”
“Of course not! Why didn’t we think of that! I’ll pay the rent and they’ll have the month for looking about for a place.” His face cleared, then darkened again. He said:
“Dayborn says Mrs. Stroud is a devil. What do you think?”
“I think she probably has devil enough in her to be stimulating.”
Renny gave him a shrewd look.
He asked:
“How much longer is it going to take you to cut Eden out?”
“I’ve thrown up the sponge. I’ve tried and I’ve failed. I look on the affair as very serious.”
The colour in Renny’s already high-coloured face intensified. He exclaimed hotly:
“The young fool! With a woman that age!”
“What about yourself at eighteen?”
“I deserved a thrashing. My father was too easygoing. The woman is a pest. She has turned out Dayborn and Chris and roped in Eden. I shall have a word to say to her, and to him too.”
“I wish you were more cautious. You may do more harm than good. I sometimes fear I have.”
“I’ll be crafty.”
There were voices in the hall. Someone was going.
“I had better go back to our guests,” said Ernest. “The Laceys are leaving.”
“Un
cle Ernest, I wish you would tell Chris I want to speak to her. She must be very upset. Bring her here, will you?”
Renny walked impatiently about the room. Through the window he could see the Miss Laceys departing. What a hot walk they had ahead of them. Why had no one thought of taking them home in the car. He stuck his head out of the window.
“Wait a moment!” he called. “Someone will take you home. It’s as hot as blazes.”
They came over to the window.
“Oh, how kind of you!”
“That will be nice.”
“It’s been such a delightful afternoon —”
“And quite picturesque —”
“I always think a meal out of doors —”
“Dear Mrs. Whiteoak is wonderful. She said to me —”
“And she even had a piece of the wedding cake. I said to her —”
“No, it was I who said —”
They chattered on, interrupting each other, as all his life he remembered their doing. They would think nothing of spending an hour by the window. He heard Chris enter the room. He signalled to her behind his back. She took his hand in hers.
The elder Miss Lacey was saying:
“I remember a garden party at Jalna. It was just such a September day as this. Your grandfather was still living and he —”
“What a good-looking man,” interrupted her sister. “D’you know I think that Piers —”
“But, if I may say it, I think that Piers will never have the —”
“How could he! Life and manners are —”
“To be sure, but as I —”
Renny ruthlessly interrupted the amiable flow of words. He felt Chris’s lips against his palm.
“Just wait a moment, will you,” he said. “I’ll get one of the boys to bring the car.”
He withdrew his head. Chris was in the shadow behind him. Silently he held her close.
The younger Miss Lacey’s voice came clearly: “Certainly he has not his grandfather’s manners. Did you notice how —”
“Did I? And the abrupt way he —”
With a rueful grimace at hearing himself so criticized Renny pushed Chris farther into the shadow. “Back in a moment, darling,” he whispered.
05 Whiteoak Heritage Page 19