Ernest and Nicholas established themselves in their own chairs on the lawn. The rest of the family collected round them. Renny sprawled in a deep garden chair, the Cairn terrier on his knee, the bulldog and the bobtail sheepdog at his feet. Already he had complained bitterly of the state of the latter’s coat. “Ah, Roger,” he had mourned, “you would not be the neglected bundle of rags you are if I had been at home. No wonder your mistress wants you kept out of sight.”
Adeline was humiliated. “If only you knew how often I have combed him! And Wright has too. But he has such a propensity for burrs.”
“when was he last combed?”
“Yesterday. No — I believe it was two days ago.”
“More like two weeks ago. Never mind, Roger, you’ll not be neglected now.” Roger gazed up at him with an adoring, sanctimonious expression on his woolly face.
Alayne stood in the porch contemplating the family group. It was twenty years since she had come to Jalna as Eden’s bride. And there they sat, as they had sat then, close together in the invincible bond of their kinship! There were missing from the group old Adeline, Eden, and Wakefield. What would Eden be if he were living today? The grandmother had died. Eden had died. But seven young ones had sprung into being. What strong-featured individualists these young ones would develop into! Just as their elders. She had to acknowledge that Archer, in spite of his resemblance to her gentle scholarly father, fitted well into the group. Even Nooky was developing the Court nose. Her eyes came to rest on Renny. Was it possible that she beheld him sitting safe, with his dogs, his family! For the thousandth time she admired the way he held his head, the set of his shoulders, that look which, when he was mounted, made him seem a part of the horse. He looked not much older than Piers, for Piers had grown heavy and those years in the prison camp had done something to him. Alayne crossed the grass and joined the group, coming to Renny’s side and sitting on the broad arm of his chair. He put an arm about her but not quite tenderly, for he remembered the wallpaper, the radiators and the banished stove. The various irritations he had suffered in the moment of homecoming caused him to look with added dolour on Piers’ affliction. He said:
“It’s a strange thing to see you, Piers, with one of your legs missing.”
A shock went through Alayne. How could he speak, with such dreadful openness, of what she had never yet referred to in Piers’ presence?
Piers answered a little huffily, “I have a mighty good artificial leg. I got a new one after I came home. The first was just a makeshift. I get about very well.”
“Indeed he does!” cried Pheasant. “There is almost nothing he can’t do. Just wait till you see him sitting up on the harrow! He can do anything.”
Renny pessimistically surveyed his brother. “It’s well,” he said, “to feel so. That puppy you have climbing all over you — you seem very fond of it.”
“why not? It was a birthday present — to take the place of Biddy. You knew she was run over by a car.”
“To take the place of Biddy!” repeated Renny, on a note of astonishment. “Do you mean to say that you would let this puppy take her place? But then — you never were very fond of her or she of you. She was always following me home.”
Piers stared truculently at him but said nothing. Renny turned to Meg. “It seems strange,” he said, “to think of you in that little house where Mrs. Stroud lived — a widow — in a little house.”
“It is very strange and sad,” she answered, taking his hand. “But not so bad as it might be. I have Patience and the house looks quite nice since I have turned both halves of it into one, as it was originally.”
“Meg got a very tidy sum for Vaughanlands,” said Piers.
A gleam came into Renny’s eyes. “She did! Good. I asked you in a letter, Meg, but you didn’t answer.”
“You must meet Mr. Clapperton,” said Meg. “He is a perfect dear. So kind! So generous!”
“Indeed! So far I haven’t liked what I’ve heard of him.”
“what have you heard?”
“That he bought Vaughanlands.”
A vibration went through the older members of the family. If Renny did not like the idea of Mr. Clapperton at Vaughanlands, what would his feelings be when he heard of the proposed model village? A model village, named Clappertown, at his very door! No one dared tell him of it.
Meg continued, “His kindness to poor Gemmel Griffith is simply wonderful.”
“Gemmel? She’s the cripple, isn’t she?”
“Yes. The poor girl never could walk. She just crept about the house — a terrible responsibility for her sisters.”
“The oldest one, Molly,” put in Patience, “is on the stage in New York. She’s lovely.”
“The really lovely one,” said Finch, “is Althea.”
“She’s shy,” added Roma. “She runs the other way if you meet her.”
“Well, what has this fellow done that’s so generous?” asked Renny.
Meg continued, “He took that poor, crippled girl to a specialist. She’s had a most delicate operation on her spine and before very long will be able to walk. She’s now in a nursing home. Mr. Clapperton is paying for everything.”
“He sounds damned officious.”
Alayne’s eyes met Finch’s. They laughed, almost hysterically.
“But don’t you think it was very kind and generous?” asked Meg. “It will change the girl’s whole life — and her sisters’ too.”
“She seemed to me very happy as she was. I’d have let her alone. There are enough girls running around.”
He turned to Nicholas, “what do you think of him, Uncle Nick?”
Nicholas blew out his cheeks. “I think,” he said, “that he is a horrid old fellow and his secretary, Mooey’s tutor, is a horrid young fellow.”
“I quite agree as to Swift,” said Piers. “I can’t stand him. I don’t like the ideas he’s putting into Mooey’s head.”
Maurice flushed. “He is a good teacher,” he said.
“That’s the main point,” said Renny. “How are you getting on?”
Pheasant broke in, “He has tried some of the exams and passed with honours. They were child’s play for him.”
“It’s maths and science that get me down,” said Maurice, “but I expect to get through them next year.”
“My God,” exclaimed Piers, “have we to endure that whippersnapper, Swift, about the place for almost another year?”
“Daddy — Daddy,” interrupted Adeline, “when are you coming to the stables? Wright has everything shining for you. He’s dying to see you. Do come — please!”
“Are you sure,” asked Renny, “that he has not had the whole interior done over in a pale ivory and central heating installed?”
“Positive. Do come!” She tugged at his arm.
He rose. “All right. Who is coming with me?”
Even Alayne, knowing the family’s predilection for each other’s society, was surprised to see them rise in a body, with the sole exception of Nicholas.
“Do you think you should attempt it?” she asked Ernest. “You haven’t walked so far in a long while.”
“He can rest in my office,” said Renny. “Take my arm, Uncle Ernest.”
Nicholas said ruefully, “I’d go like a shot, if it weren’t for my knee.”
“Fetch his wheelchair, Finch,” said Renny. “We’ll take him over.”
Finch darted off for the chair.
“Hurrah,” cried Archer. “Uncle Nicholas is having his last trip to the stables!”
“It’s not his last,” said Adeline, indignantly. “He’ll go lots of times — now that Daddy’s home.”
With many heavings and gruntings, Nicholas was installed in the wheelchair. Finch laboured behind it while Ernest leant on Renny’s arm.
Renny asked, “Aren’t you coming, Alayne?”
“I cannot possibly,” she answered. “I have a thousand things to do. Whom do you suppose does the work in that big house?”
�
��The Wragges.”
“They couldn’t possibly do it all. Adeline, don’t forget that all your things are to be carried upstairs from Daddy’s room and the beds to be made.”
“I’ll not forget. Hurry up, everybody!”
“Do come with us, Alayne,” Renny said coaxingly.
“My dear, I cannot.”
She stood watching them go. She smiled ironically at the strangely decorative procession they made. What was there about them? A freedom of movement, a letting of themselves go, combined with a valid Victorian dignity, as of beings important to the universe. There was Nicholas, an hilarious smile on his face, carried away by the excitement of this unexpected jaunt. There was Finch, a mousey-fair lock dangling over his eyes as he bent his back to the pushing of the wheelchair. There was Piers with the harsh years of the prison camp behind him, hardy, upright, though with a limp. There was Pheasant, her hand swinging in his. Meg and Patience on either side of Nicholas’ chair. Young Maurice with his quick grace; the five children. There was Ernest, taking careful steps, guided by Renny. There was he! Fifteen of them in all, he in the centre, the pivot of their circle. Oh, to form one of that invincible procession, since her life moved in the stream with theirs! Oh, to be one of them! But she could not — not after twenty years!
All day she would watch them doing things together. Talking, arguing, eating together. Looking into each other’s eyes, putting out a hand to touch each other. The young ones shouldering their way into the circle, to become stronger in its strength. All the long day she would look on but — at night she would have him to herself. She would redeem the loneliness of the years of separation.
XIV
THE WHEELBARROW, THE ORGAN,
AND THE MODEL VILLAGE
THE THREE DOGS lived as though in fear of losing sight of Renny. In and out, up and down, they padded after him. The little Cairn constantly got in the way of the many moving legs, darted aside, darted back, raised a face so appealing that Renny must bend down to pet and reassure it. When he sat down the bulldog sat by him, resting its massive head against his leg, gazing at his very boots with adoration. Through a dense fringe of hair, the sheepdog watched his every movement. But he greatly missed Merlin, his blind spaniel, that dog between which and himself communion of touch had reached such sensitive expression. Now in the morning, with the three at his heels, he prowled about the various outbuildings behind the house. The shed where flowerpots, garden shears, and lawn mower were kept, where bulbs of gladioli and dahlia in their time were stored, where strings of onions hung from the cobwebbed roof; the carriage house where his grandmother’s old phaeton stood in dim twilight and the carriage his grandfather had had sent out from England, with its massive lamps, its interior trimmings of velvet and ivory, its sagging cushions on which many little Whiteoaks had bounced. Then there was the tool shed. He noticed how hammers and chisels lay scattered uncared for and he frowned. Archer, Nooky, and Philip, he guessed, had worked their will here. Well, they would be sorry if he got after them. But this was only his second day at home. He would prowl about peaceably, enjoying the dear, familiar sights and smells.
As he again passed the door of the carriage house it dawned on him that something was missing from there. He opened the door and went in, trying to think what it was. It required some moments of scrutiny, then he discovered that his grandmother’s garden wheelbarrow of wickerwork, light but strong, was gone. He looked in every corner for it. Then, coming out into the sunlight, he saw Finch crossing the yard.
“Hullo,” he called out, “do you know what has become of Gran’s wicker wheelbarrow?”
Finch stopped short. His jaw dropped. He stammered, “Well, no — I mean, yes — I’m not quite sure.”
Renny’s eyebrows shot up. “what the devil do you mean? Have the kids broken it?”
“No. The fact is I lent it to the Griffith girls. They wheeled Gemmel about in it. She couldn’t walk, you see, and it was nice and light.”
“Hmph. Well, she can walk now or soon will, from what I hear. You shouldn’t have given it for such a use. It’s not strong enough. I value it, if you don’t. I want you to fetch it home today. Why, both Gran and Meggie thought a great deal of that wheelbarrow.”
“All right,” said Finch. He hesitated and then continued, “There is something else missing. I think I ought to tell you. I haven’t said anything about it to Alayne. It’s the organ that was in the basement. It’s disappeared.”
“The organ! Aunt Augusta’s organ! But how could it disappear?”
“I don’t know, but it has. I’ve asked Rags and cook but they hadn’t even missed it.”
“Not missed it! Anything the size of an organ!”
“So they said.”
“By Judas, there have been queer goings on here!”
He strode to the steps leading to the basement. He descended them, the dogs rushing after him, panting, as though he were in full flight from them. In the kitchen he confronted husband and wife, she baking bread, he cleaning brass.
“where is the organ?” he demanded.
The cook stared at him out of fat little eyes, the mass of pure dough in front of her, the smudge of flour on her red cheek, giving her an air of innocence. Rags, on the other hand, surrounded by tarnished brass trays, candlesticks and urns, his fingers stained by the brass-cleaning mixture, looked a picture of guilt.
“I’ve been asked that before,” said the cook truculently, “and what I say is — I’ve never missed it.”
“Rags, you know where that organ is.”
“So ’elp me — I don’t, sir.”
Renny went to the door of the room where the organ had been, threw it open and entered, the dogs shouldering each other to enter simultaneously. Finch followed. “I missed it about a fortnight ago. I remembered some old music books that used to lie on the organ and I had a sudden curiosity to see them. They were here all right but the organ had vanished.”
Rags remarked from the passage, “I’ve always said that there outside door ain’t properly barred. Any sneak-thief could break through.”
“And sneak out with the organ in his pocket! Do you expect me to believe such a story?”
“Well, as you know, sir, there’s a great scarcity of musical instruments.”
Renny fixed a penetrating gaze on him. “Tell me, Rags,” he said, “who stole that organ. It never was taken out of this room without your knowledge.”
There was a terrible silence, broken only by the sound of Mrs. Wragge thumping the dough.
“Come clean, Rags,” said Renny.
Rags visibly curled up in his distress. “Ow, Colonel Whiteoak, don’t ask me!”
“I do ask you. I don’t want to fire you on my second day home.”
“There are plenty who’d be glad to take me on.”
“I know there are. But you don’t want to go to them, any more than I want a strange couple at Jalna. Who stole the organ?”
“Sir,” said Rags desperately. “Will you give me till noon to answer that question?”
“Yes. Come along, dogs. Finch, please see to it that the wheelbarrow is brought home. Gran’s wheelbarrow — Aunt Augusta’s organ! what next?” He strode into the room that formerly had been the coal cellar and where now stood the uncompromising bulk of the oil heater. The walls had been whitewashed, the floor cleaned, not a coal was to be seen. He stood gripping his chin, staring about with a bewildered feeling. Was this the coal cellar? Was this home? He gave an ironic smile at his own concern, then, followed by his escort, made his way out of the house and along the grassy paths.
Standing among the raspberry canes was Alma Patch, plucking the dark red fruit, her small son, dirty of face, playing nearby. When he saw Renny and the dogs he ran to his mother and clutched her draggled skirt.
“Hullo, Alma,” said Renny. “So you’ve got married and had a baby since I last saw you!”
She wiped her fruit-stained fingers on her skirt and Renny shook hands with her.
“Qu
ite a fine boy,” he said, for young things were always attractive to him.
“Oh, he’s just grand.” Alma snatched up her child to show him off. “Ossie — Ossie — tell the gentleman about the train! Did you know he fell off a train, sir? And not hurt one little bit.”
“I did indeed. My sister, Mrs. Vaughan, told me all about it in a letter. Took a whole page to it.”
Alma beamed in delight. “Did she? My, just think of that! Ossie, tell the gentleman about the train.”
Ossie brought out, in a singsong, “The chain yan down the chack.
The chain yan down the chack.”
Alma hugged and kissed him. “Yes, the chain yan down the chack and Ossie hadn’t a single mark on him! Wasn’t it wonderful, sir?”
“It was indeed. The raspberries look nice, Alma.” He picked a handful from the canes and ate them. “By George, they taste better than ever.”
“I suppose, sir,” said Alma, “you’ve met the new gentleman, Mr. Clapperton. He’s so kind. Ossie never tells him about the train but what Mr. Clapperton gives him a nickel, don’t he, Ossie?”
“A very bad habit, bribing children,” said the master of Jalna hastily. “Give him a smack on the head, if he doesn’t tell it. What about the train, Ossie?”
“Yan down the chack,” said Ossie, squinting up hopefully.
“That’s right.” Renny moved through the orchard. There was promise of a good crop of apples but the trees badly needed pruning. Certainly their trunks had not been whitewashed this year and there was a bough swathed in the sinister web of the caterpillars. He longed for the day when farm help would be plentiful.
He came out on to the church road and crossed into the churchyard. All was peaceful and unchanged here. The church stood solid and with an air of serenity. And there was Noah Binns digging a grave, standing waist deep in it. He greeted Renny with a two-toothed smile. When Renny had last seen him, five black teeth had ornamented it.
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 414