He thought — “I wonder what the devil you mean by that?” He said:
“That’s very kind of you. But I don’t quite know how I am to show you friendship. What do you want me to do?” He looked warily at her.
Her voice had never been more musical, more moving.
“Just not to forget my existence! To come and see me sometimes. You promised to take me to the Horse Show, you know. I don’t want you to forget that.”
He still looked wary and a little embarrassed. He said:
“All that’s very easy to promise.”
“There’s another thing. I want you to let me give Eden my canoe. It’s of no use to me now.”
“But I can’t let you do that. Surely you will be able to use it next year.”
“I’m too nervous to go out in it alone. I can’t continue to pay rent for something that will be of no further use to me.”
“I will buy it from you, then.”
She said, almost gaily — “Let’s forget about the canoe for the present. It is enough for me that things are different between us.”
Her large eyes looked deep into his. She laid her hand on his arm. His eyes turned to an approaching figure. It was the American, Mrs. Denovan, followed by her husband.
With relief at the success of his conversation with Amy Stroud, relief, too, from the embarrassment of her emotional reaching out to him, he rose and greeted the newcomers. He suggested that they should have cocktails.
They were joined by several others who had come to town for the Horse Show. Amy Stroud found herself in a new world.
XXII
NEWS FROM ENGLAND
THIS WAS AN afternoon in early December. White and purple clouds were moving steadily southward but all day the sun somehow had managed to evade them and to send its brightness on the brown fields, the stable, the weather-cock that flicked from south to south-east, as the cold breeze whistled against his side. Nicholas Whiteoak had just returned from a solitary ride along the lake shore. He had enjoyed it and there was a good colour in his long flat cheeks. He looked well in his riding clothes which were immaculate, in contrast to the worn coat and breeches of his nephew who strolled forward to meet him. A stableman held the horse while Nicholas dismounted. The horse lifted an eager foreleg, his mind on his evening feed.
“Hullo,” said Renny. “Had a good ride?”
“Fine. The road was quiet. I met scarcely a soul. Had a little chat with the Lacey girls who’d been at a Women’s Institute meeting.”
“Oh yes, Meg was there. Like to see the ponies? We’re just finishing with them.”
They went toward the paddock. The sun was getting low. A saffron light lay across the fields. The hoof-beats of the ponies swept like soft thunder across the turf. There were three of them, ridden by Chris, Dayborn and Piers. A row of kegs had been spaced on the paddock and the three were weaving their way in and about them at full gallop.
Nicholas leant against the palings watching them with delight; the youth and skill of the riders, the strength, abandon and grace of the ponies.
“Gad,” he exclaimed, “that girl can ride!”
Renny acquiesced by a muttered monosyllable.
“That’s a cantankerous little beast Piers is riding. He handles him well.”
Again the approving monosyllable. Then he shouted, — “Enough for today!”
The ponies came to a standstill, their sides heaving, nuzzling each other.
“Admirable!” shouted Nicholas. “Good boy, Piers!”
“That fellow’s a handful, I can tell you,” said Piers, coming to them. Dayborn had taken Piers’s pony as well as his own into the stable. Chris was bent over, examining a foreleg of her pony.
“Anything wrong?” called out Renny.
“Just a graze. I’ll put something on it.” Her voice came high and childlike on the frosty air.
“There’s Matthews,” said Piers. “He’s been to the post. I’ll see what he’s got.” He ran off eagerly, though he rarely had more than a half-dozen letters in the year.
“Well,” said Nicholas, “I think I’ll go in. How is Launceton?”
“Grand. Come and see him tomorrow. He’ll take your breath away.”
Nicholas frowned. “I think it’s a hare-brained scheme, entering him for the Grand National. I’ve seen that race run too often not to know the pitfalls of it. He’ll have no chance and you’ll have wasted a lot of money. To begin with, you paid an exorbitant price for him. If he’s in good condition I advise you to get your money out of him now — if you can.”
“Oh, do you?” said Renny, turning away.
He felt bitter at the continued opposition of his family to this dearest project. Time and again they had had evidence of Launceton’s amazing powers. Yet, because his father and his grandfather had bred show horses, not racehorses, they resented his enterprise. As to extravagance, good God, his uncles had each frittered away their fortunes. His father had never added anything to the family fortunes, and every member of the family had some share in dispersing what was left.
A great saffron lake had formed in the western sky. Its reflection illumined his face as he went slowly toward the stables. All activity had suddenly ceased where so short a time ago the very earth seemed vibrant with hoof-beats. Now it was black and still.
By a projection of the stable wall he came on Dayborn and Chris, standing close together, waiting for him. She still held her pony by the bridle, while it looked enquiringly at her out of its dark liquid eyes, and occupied itself by pawing a groove in the frosty earth.
“I hope it’s not going to freeze hard,” Renny said as he approached them.
Neither answered. He saw that Dayborn’s face was ghastly. Chris had a drawn look. She twisted a lock of the pony’s mane in her fingers. She said:
“Jim’s had awful news. He’s heard from his friend in England. Instead of sending the quarterly cheque, she sent a letter saying she knows all about us. I’ve told Jim that you know. It doesn’t matter now.”
Renny was aghast. “Is she going to cut off his allowance? ”
“Yes,” said Dayborn. “This is the end.”
“How did she find out?”
“Oh, don’t start him again!” said Chris miserably.
“It’s that Stroud woman!” Dayborn’s voice shook with rage. “The bitch! The fiend incarnate! I’ll get even with her — see if I don’t. I’d kill her if I didn’t know I’d swing for it!”
“Don’t talk so wildly,” said Renny soothingly. “Come into my office and have a drink. Did your friend mention Mrs. Stroud’s name? ”
“She didn’t need to! She said she’d had a letter from someone who knows us well. She’s had a lawyer and a detective on my trail — as though I were a murderer. God! I feel like one!”
“Does she know about Tod?”
“She knows everything. What a fool I’ve been!”
Chris stood plaiting the pony’s mane, her lips quivering. She said to Renny:
“I tell him we’ll get along somehow. We can, can’t we?”
“Of course you can. We’ll find a way out. Come along, Jim.” Renny took him by the arm and steered him into the stable.
Chris followed, leading the pony. It gave a low whinny of delight and nuzzled her cheek. She put it in its stall and followed the two men into the office. Dayborn had a glass of whiskey and water in his shaking hand. He was saying:
“It isn’t just the money. It’s the feeling that she’s been after us all these months. Trying to harm us. Lying low for us. Prying and writing letters about us. I said from the first that she was a snake but Chris wouldn’t believe me. It was Chris’s fault she found out about our marriage.”
“It wasn’t!” retorted Chris. “It was your own fault. She heard you say something when you were angry.”
“Well, it was your fault for making me angry. You never give me any peace!”
“Shut up,” ordered Renny. “I won’t hear her talked to like that.”
Da
yborn glared at him. “Oh, and what are you going to do about it? Fire me, I suppose!”
“Keep your shirt on, Jim,” said Renny. “You do no good by going on like this. No man ever had a better wife than Chris, and you know it.”
“There are different sorts of goodness,” muttered Dayborn. “I’m not so sure about her sort.”
Renny refilled his glass. Dayborn became calmer. He said:
“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going straight to her house to have it out with her.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Renny. “You’re not sure she did it. I don’t believe she did. I don’t believe she could.”
“Oh, she’s got round you! She’s a serpent, if ever there was one! First it was your brother — then your uncle — now you! You took her to the Horse Show! You go to her house! She writes little scented notes to you! Oh, I’ve seen through the whole affair. She tried her hand on each of the others — then she tackled you — she’s got you just where she wants you! Chris, you’ve no chance against her, don’t imagine you have!”
Renny sprang up from his chair. He took Dayborn by the coat and pushed him out through the door.
“You go to hell out of here!” he exclaimed.
Chris followed them into the open. She suddenly remembered Tod. She ran toward the garage. Over her shoulder she could see the two men striding, side by side, along the path. She ran up the stairs to the flat. It was almost dark in there. For a moment she saw no sign of Tod. Then she found him sitting on the floor with his building bricks. He had piled seven, one on top of the other, the tallest tower he had yet achieved. He turned toward her smiling. He was beginning to talk.
“Tall, tall,” he said. “Nice.”
She caught him up and held him to her cheek. He sniffed. “Pony,” he breathed. “Nice.”
Dayborn was saying to Renny — “You’re always ready to make excuses for women. And the reason is clear. You don’t understand them. I do understand them, and I hate them.”
“Yet,” returned Renny, “you’re willing to take favours from them.”
“I’ve been driven to it,” muttered Dayborn. He lengthened his stride and added — “When I’ve told Mrs. Stroud what I think of her, she’ll not look so pleased with herself. Your attentions have made a complete fool of her. I believe that’s why she wrote that letter. She wants to drive Chris and me out of Jalna. She’s jealous because we’re your friends. I’ll bet she’s made up her mind to marry you.”
“You know you’re talking rot. Mrs. Stroud is a lonely woman. She promised me not to see young Eden again. She’s kept her word. I had to be decent to her.”
“I suppose you’ll go right on being decent, even after this!”
“I’ll never see her again!”
“I’ll tell her that! I’ll tell her you said she could not —”
“Yes, do! Make a greater ass of yourself than you already have! Now look here, Jim, you are not going to see Mrs. Stroud. She has tried to injure you —”
“Tried! She’s succeeded, hasn’t she?”
“For the time being, she has. And nothing will please her more than for you to tell her so.”
Dayborn ground his teeth.
“The only thing to do is to behave as though she doesn’t exist. I don’t want ever to speak to her again but if I’m forced to —”
“You go to her now! Tell her what you think of her.”
“I’d look well, shouldn’t I? No, the important thing is to show her that she’s a failure. You must come into the open and acknowledge that Chris and you are married. Say you’ve kept it secret because of family disapproval. Now, I’ve an idea! I’ll get my sister to write to your friend and tell her what we think of Chris and the kid. We’ll send a letter that will prove that marriage has been the best thing in the world for you.”
“She’ll never forgive me,” groaned Dayborn.
“Is she in love with you?”
“Not a bit. She’s one of those strong characters who never change their mind.”
“Then she should still be your friend.”
“She can’t! Mrs. Stroud told her that she heard me say, when I got one of her cheques — ‘Thank God the old girl has ponied up again!’”
“Did you say it?”
“Yes!”
“Well, you must deny it. One more lie won’t damn you.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll deny it! The letter from your sister will be fine. Ah, Whiteoak, what a good friend you are!” He squeezed Renny’s arm. His fingers felt thin and hard as bones. “But I’ll repay you! I’ll win the Grand National for you, or die in the attempt!”
They were opposite Mrs. Stroud’s. Into the frosty green sky the white smoke from her chimney curled comfortably. The windows of her living room glowed warmly through the drawn curtains. The other half of the house stood blank and empty. A new sign bearing the words “To Let” had been fixed to the gate. They stared at it for a moment in silence, then turned back toward Jalna.
Having parted with Dayborn at his flat, Renny returned to the house. It was now dark. In the hall his nostrils were greeted by the pungent smell of hot tomato catsup, rising from the kitchen. He sniffed it and hung up his hat. Three dogs were about the stove. Fan, his father’s spaniel, had carried in a large bone and was guarding it between her paws. She had a far away look but her mind was alert. The big young bob-tailed sheepdog, Ben, which Renny had acquired since his return, lay facing Fan, his eyes twinkling at the bone, through his long hair. On a high-backed chair the Yorkshire terrier puppy belonging to Nicholas sat shivering in excitement. Warning the two larger dogs not to fight, Renny tucked Nip under his arm and went into the drawing room.
Old Adeline was dozing in her chair by the fire. It was her custom to relax after a good tea. Nicholas and Ernest were just finishing a game of backgammon. Ernest indicated his victory to Renny by a gesture of triumph. Nicholas yawned and felt for his tobacco pouch. Meg was making herself a blouse with frills down the front. She was so absorbed that she scarcely noticed Renny’s coming. He tossed the terrier on to Nicholas’s knee and tucked his cold fingers inside Meg’s collar. She hunched her shoulders and said:
“How cold you are! Please don’t! Go and warm yourself. There are muffins keeping hot for you and Rags will bring you a fresh pot of tea. What kept you?”
“I’ll tell you later.” He bent his head and looked into his grandmother’s face. Her lips were pouted and she was blowing through them gustily. There were crumbs down her front but her hands, clasped on her stomach, were so handsome and so richly ringed that her mien was not without dignity.
The old bell-cord made a rasping sound when pulled. It might wake her. Renny left the room and went to the top of the basement stairs. He shouted:
“Rags! Tea!”
Returning, he noticed that the sheepdog had got into the chair lately occupied by the Yorkshire terrier. The spaniel lay with her chin on the bone. Her eyes were closed.
Renny was so hungry that he had taken a muffin from the dish and eaten it as he went through the hall. Swallowing the last of it, he returned to the drawing room and sat down near Meg. As he ate his tea he told what had happened that afternoon. What annoyance Meg might have felt at having been deceived by the Dayborns was lost in her pity for their fresh misfortune. She had long felt nothing but distrust of Mrs. Stroud. She regretted that such a woman had pushed her way into the neighbourhood. She blamed poor Miss Pink not a little for having sold her her house.
Nicholas was inclined to be jocular on the subject, especially as Ernest had been involved in the affair. He pulled a long face and asked his brother, in a hoarse whisper, if he thought he had given Mrs. Stroud any grounds for a breach of promise suit. Vehemently though Ernest denied this, he was greatly agitated and began to pace up and down the room, reviewing in his mind every note written to her. Oh, to have them back! Their slightest friendly phrase now loomed incriminating to him.
“What a dangerous woman!” he exclaimed.
“I think,” said Renny, “that she blamed him for my finding out about Eden. But it was Rags who told me.”
“What a useful man he is,” said Meg. “And so devoted to us.”
Rags now entered with the pot of fresh tea. He carried his head on one side as though, by this posture, he further emphasized his respect for the family. There was silence till he left the room.
“What I want you to do, Meg,” said Renny, “is to write a nice letter to this friend of Dayborn’s and tell her how abominably Mrs. Stroud has behaved. You must tell her what you think of Chris and the baby, and what a hardship it will be on the three of them if the allowance is cut off. Will you do that, Meggie dear?” He laid his hand on hers.
“Of course I will! I’ll tell her that Chris keeps him straight and that, if it were not for her, he would probably have gone to the dogs.”
“Good for you, Meggie!” He gripped her fingers.
“And I’ll write and tell Aunt Augusta about it, and ask her to use her influence.”
“The very thing! Why — the lady lives in Exeter. Not forty miles from Aunty.”
In his excitement he had forgotten to control his voice. Old Adeline woke with a snort. She stared truculently at them.
“What a to-do!” she said. “One would think it was the middle of the day.”
“It’s only six o’clock, Granny.”
“Bless me, I thought it was midnight. What a long day!”
“Yet you were saying, Granny, just before you fell asleep, what a short day it’s been!”
“Long or short, it’s all one to me,” returned Adeline huffily.
Renny came to her side and sat down. Briefly he told her what had happened. Perhaps he told her too briefly, without the details she loved. Perhaps there was just something in him that day which she did not like, as sometimes happened. However it was, she listened with an uncomprehending stare and then turned to Meg.
“Tell it properly,” she said. “He’s talking in a funny way. I believe he’s tight.”
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 148