Cheerfulness Breaks In

by Angela Thirkell

‘Sorry, Noel,’ she said, as she bumped her elbow against Mr. Merton, who had been jammed between Sir Edmund and the Archdeacon and so had very unwillingly heard Mr. Needham call Lydia an angel and Lydia beg Mr. Needham to write, besides seeing her take that young gentieman’s arm. He was used to his Lydia’s ebullient ways but he found himself hating Mr. Needham in a most unseemly way for being so much younger than himself.

  ‘Good-bye, Noel,’ said Mrs. Brandon, all furred and cloaked (for these phrases come naturally to one’s mind when speaking of her). ‘Don’t forget.’

  ‘You may command me in anything,’ said Noel. ‘Bless you,’ and he lifted her hand to his lips for she was one of the few women he knew who could take such homage with grace.

  Owing to the squash Lydia could not disentangle her arm from Mr. Needham’s in time not to see what she saw, hear what she heard.

  ‘Good-bye, Lydia,’ said Noel. ‘Shall I see you when I get my next leave?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lydia, wondering, as they shook hands.

  Their eyes met, asking questions that this was no time, no place to answer. Lydia drove home with her father and Noel caught the night train to London, each thinking, just like people in novels, that the other’s heart was not so warm, not so near, each determined to die sooner than infringe by a hair’sbreadth the freedom of the other.

  CHAPTER XV

  STORY WITHOUT AN END

  THE loveliest spring that England could remember had emerged from the long hard winter and went flashing by in luxuriant riot into early summer, at cinema speed. And with the quick and profuse blossoming of almond, wild cherry, hawthorn red white and pink, buttercups, lilac, laburnum; with the onward rush of the trees from a mist of tender green to a heavy and sullen leafage, the rush of events came thundering down from the Arctic Circle across the Low Countries, marshalled by the Powers of Darkness.

  The Earl of Pomfret died quietly in the small hours of the morning, early in May. I do not think he had any fears or regrets. His heir, whom he had at first mistrusted and gradually come to value, would carry on, under changed conditions, work for which he knew he would soon have been unfit, and had already two sons. His heir’s wife he liked and respected, for she had the best hands in the county and good common sense. They were both by his bed when his eyes failed to see the sunlight flooding his room. He held a hand of each and spoke the name of his dead wife and the son who had been killed a lifetime ago in a frontier skirmish. The eighth Earl of Pomfret looked down on the seventh Earl and took up his burden.

  Old Lord Pomfret was buried quietly in the parish church-yard. There was a Memorial Service at St. Margaret’s, Westminster, for the outer world. Then there was a Memorial Service in Barchester Cathedral, attended by the whole county, high and low; the last time that many of those in the great congregation were to see each other.

  Lydia Keith and her father were among those present. Lydia had half hoped that she might see Noel Merton in the Deanery pew, but when he was not there, she knew that her thoughts had been self-delusion. She went home by train alone, for her father was to stay on in Barchester for a committee and dine with his son Robert to discuss some business of the firm. Mrs. Keith had not been so well and depended more and more on Lydia, who handled her mother with firm and unaltering kindness. Lydia and her father knew that Mrs. Keith’s heart was less satisfactory each month, and they both felt a chill shadow of private grief among the shadow of general sadness and apprehension, and both bore the shadow with courage and worked all the harder.

  But the shadow was not to touch Mr. Keith. When he left Robert’s house that evening he walked down to the County Club where he had left his car in the morning. In the uncertain light he stepped into the road in front of a stationary car, was hit by a lorry and taken unconscious to the Barchester Hospital. He had only done what thousands of people do every day, and paid the penalty. The lorry driver was in no way to blame, rather to be pitied for the sense of guilt that Mr. Keith’s carelessness must have caused him. Lydia was fetched by her brother Robert early next morning. As Mrs. Keith was used to her husband and daughter being out and about before she came down, she felt no alarm. Mr. Keith lingered, always unconscious, for two days and then died without recognising Robert or Lydia.

  It had been necessary to tell Mrs. Keith that her husband was injured and this Robert and Lydia had managed with such kindness that she was not made ill, as they had feared. When she had to be told that her husband was dead she was more stunned than unhappy. Luckily Nurse Chiffinch, an excellent nurse who had been with old Lord Pomfret and was known to Mrs. Morland, could be secured, and was installed to look after Mrs. Keith for the present.

  Lydia, who had prepared herself for her mother’s possible death, was shaken to the core by this turn of fate, but held valiantly to her post. Robert’s wife offered to come and stay with her, as did her own sister Kate, but with many thanks Lydia said she could manage it better alone. Robert took over all business matters for her. Northbridge Manor was left to him. As he and his wife had no wish to live there at present it was agreed that part of the house should be shut up and Mrs. Keith go on living there for the present under Nurse Chiffinch’s care, while Lydia would do her capable best with the estate and all Mr. Keith’s local activities.

  To Lydia’s intense joy her brother Colin was able to get twenty-four hours’ leave on the day when Mr. Keith was buried. He was well and fit and absorbed in his soldier’s life and for a moment Lydia’s burden was lifted. Of his future movements he gave Lydia no information, for he had none. Lydia asked if he had heard of Noel, but he had dropped out of touch with many old friends, Noel among them. There could be no Grand Opening of the boating season this year, so they took the punt up to Parsley Island and laughed at remembering the picnic there when Rose Birkett had taken Noel’s and Everard’s coats to shelter her pink dress from the thunderstorm and Philip had been so unpleasant and Communist about flowers in churches.

  Colin had to go back the same evening. Lydia sat with her mother till Nurse Chiffinch announced that her patient ought to be thinking of Bedfordshire now, which she did with a brightness that only Mrs. Keith’s apathy and Lydia’s restrained grief kept them from resenting, though she was so good and kind and conscientious that they were really grateful to her. Lydia sat up till late answering letters of condolence for her mother and went to bed so tired that being young she was able to go to sleep at once.

  Next day, in the full loveliness of spring, the world was told of the betrayal of a little army, sent in answer to a stricken country’s cry for help. Every heart was stunned by the thought of what might come, every heart was steeled to bear the very worst, and darkness covered the sun. England held her breath and was silent, waiting, while the author of the betrayal slipped into black oblivion, beyond human blame, beyond human compassion.

  Lydia, wisely considering activity the best remedy for most ills, after seeing her mother and Nurse Chiffinch had a few words with Palmer about the silver. It had been arranged that most of it was to go to the bank for the present, a step which Palmer chose to take as a direct personal insult. Lydia accepted Palmer’s notice with complete equanimity and even relief, and after putting on an overall began to turn out things in the drawing-room, for it had been decided to shut it up and use the small study or library. For a couple of hours she rolled up rugs, took the washing covers off chairs and sofas, dust-sheeted much of the furniture, wrapped china in tissue paper and put it in a hamper to be stored in the garage. Then she turned her attention to the books. Some she proposed to put in the study, the rest she began to pack in empty cases supplied by the gardener. As always happens when one begins to finger books she opened first one and then another, read snatches, rebuked herself and went on with her work. And all the time sunshine was flooding the room and the scent of wistaria came piercingly on the light breeze through the open french window.

  Presently she found an old volume of Grimm’s Household Tales which had belonged to Mrs. Keith’s childhood and had be
en read aloud to all the young Keiths in turn. Turning its rather battered pages, many of them loose with age and hard use, she fell completely into its charm and was reading earnestly, perched on the uncomfortable edge of a packing case, when a shadow fell on the book. She looked up and saw Noel Merton who had come in by the french window. Lydia laid down her book, got up, and went straight to Noel’s arms. Noel, hardly able to believe that his proud Lydia could lay her head so on his shoulder in peace, held her very lightly and said nothing. Then, sensitive to a faint withdrawal on her part, he let her go.

  ‘Lydia; I didn’t know,’ he said, speaking as if nothing had happened between them. ‘I hadn’t seen a paper for days, or only the cheap rags, and I never knew about your father. I ran into Roddy Wicklow in town last night and he told me.’

  ‘It was pretty bad for Mother,’ said Lydia. ‘But Robert and Edith and Everard and Kate have been angels and we have a splendid nurse. And Colin did get down for the funeral and we went on the river. I am pleased to see you, Noel.’

  Noel asked a few questions about the future of Northbridge Manor and satisfied himself that Lydia and her mother were being well looked after. Then he did not quite know what to say. His Lydia looked well though her eyes were shadowed, but he missed her uncaring arrogance and wondered with a pang if he had bad news for her. But it had better be told.

  ‘I came down to the Deanery to-day,’ he said, not adding that he had come solely to see Lydia and give any help he could, ‘and found Crawley and Mrs. Crawley transported with joy, though a duller thing to be joyful about have I never seen. Had you heard about Octavia?’

  ‘She isn’t engaged to Tommy, is she?’ said Lydia, suddenly alive with pleasure and interest.

  Noel nodded, with such a revulsion of relief that he could not speak.

  ‘I don’t want to boast,’ said Lydia, ‘but I practically did it. I gave Tommy a most awful talking to that night at the Deanery and he promised he’d take Octavia for a walk next day when she came off duty. Good old Tommy. When are they to be married?’

  ‘That part is even duller, if possible,’ said Noel. ‘Needham has just heard that he can go abroad, and he and Octavia have decided that it is their duty not to get married, though for no reason at all as far as I can see except that it makes them both feel heroic and Daisy-Chain-ish. I think the Crawleys would have liked to see Octavia married; in fact I know they would because Mrs. Crawley told me so, but of course they can’t thrust their child into matrimony if she and her bridegroom don’t want it. However, Octavia proposes to go abroad with the Red Cross and her eyes are glistening at the thought of meeting Needham in a hospital one mass of head wounds and abdominals.’

  And at this they both laughed in a very un-serious way till Lydia suddenly stopped.

  ‘Gosh!’ she said. ‘If I loved anyone I’d marry them at once.’

  Then to Noel’s intense surprise her face went bright pink and she looked at him as if imploring forgiveness.

  ‘You couldn’t think of me in that light, I suppose,’ said Noel. ‘Because if you did I would be more than willing. Much more.’

  For the first time since he had known his Lydia her gaze dropped before his.

  ‘I thought perhaps I wasn’t grown-up enough for you,’ she said in a small, desolate voice. ‘I mean Mrs. Brandon and people are the sort I thought you really liked.’

  ‘Listen to me, my girl,’ said Noel; ‘and let me tell you that I thought perhaps I was too old for you. I am ashamed to say that I thought you might like Needham.’

  ‘Tommy?’ said Lydia, lifting her eyes in wonder at Noel’s stupidity.

  And upon that she gave such a very credible imitation of a small fit of hysterics that Noel had to hold her until her voice and body were steady again; which did not take long, for she had herself well in hand.

  ‘I’ve always thought you were the nicest girl I knew,’ said Noel. ‘And when you said in that voice that you would marry anyone you loved at once, I couldn’t bear it any longer.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Lydia. ‘I’ll have to go on living here and looking after Mother and the place of course, but then you’ll probably be busy and you can always come here when you get leave. We couldn’t get married to-day, could we?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Noel. ‘But I think we could manage it to-morrow if you like. And as for leave, I think I’ll be sent abroad at any moment.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said the old Lydia. ‘I mean, I expect you’ll be much happier abroad. We’d better tell Robert and Kate. Oh, and Colin.’

  Without wasting any more time over sentiment Lydia rang up her sister Kate who was enchanted, and very untruthfully said she had always known it. Kate said she would get Robert and his wife to dinner and Lydia must bring Noel. A telegram was sent to Colin who answered with the longest and most expensive Golden Telegram ever sent of love, approval and regrets that he couldn’t get away. Kate had undertaken to tell the Birketts and a few old friends. Then Palmer grudgingly came in to ask if Mr. Merton was staying for lunch.

  ‘It’s Captain Merton,’ said Lydia. ‘Yes, he is. And we are going to be married to-morrow, so you’d better tell Cook and everyone. Come on, Noel.’

  Mrs. Keith was staying in bed till the afternoon, so they only had Nurse Chiffinch for lunch. That excellent creature was delighted by the news and eagerly entered into the discussion as to when they should tell Mrs. Keith. It was finally decided that Lydia, who as she pointed out was twenty-one, should say nothing to her Mother till the marriage had taken place. Noel wondered if it was rather deceitful, but Nurse Chiffinch said so firmly that her patient would only worry if she heard of the engagement that she got her way.

  Noel then had to go back to Barchester.

  ‘I’ll come and fetch you this evening,’ he said from the inside of the car, ‘and take you to Kate’s. I do like your Chiffinch.’

  ‘She’s an awfully good sort,’ said Lydia, ‘and an angel with Mother, even if she is a bit nurse-ish. I know she will count on her fingers from the moment we are married and take offence if I don’t engage her almost at once.’

  ‘I hadn’t really considered that question yet,’ said Noel, wondering if he were blushing, and thankful for the years of comradeship with Lydia that made her unabashed frankness so easy a thing.

  ‘Babies, you mean,’ said Lydia, with all her old severity. ‘Well, I really hadn’t much either,’ she added frankly. ‘I should think I’m more a wife than a mother, but you never know. Anyway, we’ll not bother and see what happens.’

  Noel found nothing to say. He pressed Lydia’s capable hand that lay on the door of the car and was answered by such a look of mute adoration as seriously disturbed his driving.

  At the Carters’ house the millennium appeared to have set in, in spite of every discouragement. Noel, who had spent the afternoon over various matters of business, some at his father’s office (a solicitor as it may be remembered in Barchester), some with other authorities, was able to report that he and Lydia would be married to-morrow and the Dean insisted on performing the ceremony himself and Mr. Needham was to be allowed to help. With Robert he had a short talk which showed Robert that his young sister’s material interests would be well cared for.

  Kate, who was joyfully in her element of kind fussing, then said that she knew the sight of Bobbie would do Mrs. Keith more good than anything and that she proposed to bring him and his nurse over to Northbridge on the following day and stay there as long as Noel could get leave, so that he and Lydia would be free to go where they liked.

  Mrs. Brandon then rang up to say that she had to go to London for a few days to get some clothes for Delia and would be deeply offended if Noel and Lydia didn’t use Stories for their honeymoon.

  ‘You are an angel, Lavinia,’ said Noel, who had taken over the call.

  ‘Of course I am,’ said Mrs. Brandon. ‘That is all an old woman like myself is fit for.’

  ‘I refuse to make any comment on that remark,’ said Noe
l.

  ‘Nincompoop. Bless you a thousand times,’ said Mrs. Brandon and rang off.

  Then Mr. and Mrs. Birkett came over full of congratulations. Mr. Birkett was preoccupied with the School measles which were wavering between German and plain, but extremely cordial. Mrs. Birkett not unnaturally felt that the engagement was a peg on which to hang conversation about Geraldine, who was to be married at the end of May all being well and had been allowed to assist at a blood transfusion; but she was warm in her congratulations.

  ‘Is there any news of Philip?’ said Noel.

  ‘None, since he went abroad,’ said Everard.

  But for the moment the shadow of the little army fighting its way stubbornly back from treachery to the friendly sea was not allowed to intrude.

  When Noel and Lydia left, Everard caught Noel for a moment.

  ‘Have you any idea of what your movements are likely to be?’ he asked. ‘I’m not being Fifth Columnist, but we’d like to know what Lydia can count on.’

  ‘It is three days’ leave,’ said Noel.

  ‘That means,’ said Everard, ‘that you have to go back the day after to-morrow. We’ll take care of Lydia.’

  Noel left Lydia at the door of Northbridge Manor.

  ‘Noel,’ she said out of the darkness. ‘I suppose you will have to go abroad fairly soon.’

  ‘The day after to-morrow,’ said Noel.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Lydia, and vanished into the house.

  Kate was as good as her word and not only brought Bobbie over, but managed so to insinuate into her mother’s mind the horrible idea of Lydia’s being an old maid that Mrs. Keith said she had always been afraid when Lydia did so badly in her exams that she would never get married, and what a pity it was that Noel Merton, who was so very nice, wasn’t a little younger as he might have taken an interest in Lydia. With this to work on Kate managed to break the news that Lydia and Noel, properly married by the Dean, would be back to lunch, and by this time Mrs. Keith was so sure that she had foreseen and arranged the whole thing herself that her greatest anxiety was having mislaid a very hideous set of garnets belonging to her grandmother that she wanted Lydia to have. By dint of Kate and Nurse Chiffinch’s united efforts in looking in all the places where Mrs. Keith was sure the garnets were, they were at last discovered in the one place where she knew that they weren’t, and she was able to welcome the married couple and was reported by Nurse Chiffinch to be standing it splendidly.