The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche

by de la Roche, Mazo

  “May God strike him dead!” said Archer.

  “Archer, leave the table and go to your room,” ordered Alayne.

  He rose and, rigidly straight with tow head erect, marched from the room.

  “My fault,” growled Nicholas.

  “He’d finished, anyway,” said Roma, her eyes slanting toward Alayne.

  “That does not alter the disgrace,” said Alayne.

  “It alters the feeling in your stomach,” said Adeline. Finch gave a snort of laughter.

  “You two girls also may go to your room,” said Alayne. They left.

  “I like children,” said Ernest, “but it is much more peaceful without them.”

  “My father,” said Nicholas, “would knock me down as quick as look at me.”

  “Come, come,” said Ernest, “if our father knocked you down, you deserved it.”

  “I can’t remember what I did but I do remember being knocked down. What is the moral, Finch? You’ve been knocked down, haven’t you?”

  “You bet I have.” Finch flushed. “But I never tried to find a moral for it.”

  “If you can find a moral for your sufferings,” observed Ernest, helping himself to more raspberries, “they are easier to bear.”

  “I do hope,” Alayne said to Renny, “that you will have no disagreeableness with Mr. Clapperton. You certainly are helpless in the matter.”

  He frowned. “I know. I know. But give me time. In any case I’ll make a struggle. I’ve not given up hope.”

  Considering all, he looked cheerful. At the end of the meal he went and stood beneath the portrait of his grandmother. “I wonder, Gran,” he said, “what you would have thought of this Clapperton?”

  “Just what I think,” said Nicholas. “A horrid —”

  Ernest interrupted, “Do think of something new to say about him, Nick. Reiteration grows so tiresome.”

  XV

  ALMOST A PROPOSAL

  WHEN RENNY WHITEOAK had disappeared from Eugene Clapperton’s sight, he turned, with anger manifest in every movement of his body and entered the room where his secretary was typing. Young Swift continued to type, displaying no more expression than the machine itself.

  “I suppose,” remarked Mr. Clapperton sarcastically, “that you heard nothing of the little interview I had with Colonel Whiteoak.”

  “Nothing,” answered Swift, turning in his chair to face his employer. “what was it about?”

  “Surely you heard something.”

  “No. How could I when I was typing?”

  “We were speaking loudly. He has a very penetrating voice.”

  Swift preserved an irritating silence.

  Mr. Clapperton clenched his hands and said through his teeth, “It is unbearable that that man should interfere with me. I bought the property, didn’t I? I paid for it, didn’t I? I’ve poured out money like water on improving the property, haven’t I? I have an ideal I’m trying to realize. Now comes this man and insults me — offers to lay hands on me!”

  “Really!” Swift had heard all but it was against his nature to acknowledge it.

  “Yes. I knew I’d dislike him but I never guessed how much. And his sister is so nice. I look on her as a friend. And his two old uncles! They are courtliness itself. And his wife! A charming woman. How she endures him I can’t imagine. The whole family is agreeable, with the exception of him.”

  “I certainly don’t like Maurice’s father.”

  “He is quite pleasant toward me. Now we are on the subject of likes and dislikes, Sidney, I must say I’d be very pleased if you’d make up to young Miss Vaughan.”

  “Patience, you mean?”

  “Yes. She’s a sweet girl and she’ll have a tidy little fortune. I’d like to see you marry into the Whiteoak family. I don’t approve of you going with Garda Griffith. I’ve been intending to speak of this for some time.”

  “She’s a mighty nice girl.”

  “All three sisters are. When I think what my coming here has meant to them! I’ve completely changed their lives. I’ve rescued poor little Gemmel from misery and frustration. They’re all so grateful — it’s pathetic.”

  He was undoubtedly moved. He took several rapid turns about the room, then abruptly left it. Swift heard him cross the verandah, then had a glimpse of him going in the direction of the fox farm.

  “So grateful to him! And how touching their gratitude is!” thought Swift. “The next thing will be that he’ll marry one of them. I’ll bet it’s Garda he’s after. Of course, it is! The old blighter! A young girl like Garda. A child! And I’m to marry Patience! If she’ll have me. And leave my dear little Garda to him. What he wants is to push me out and never leave me a penny of his money — after all the times he’s hinted — more than hinted — that he’ll leave me everything! I wish he had got a shaking.”

  He in his turn fretted up and down the room. The covetous thought of Mr. Clapperton’s money was never far from his mind. In the anticipation of inheriting it, he had borne a good deal. He would find it bitter indeed to be cut off from this hope by the marriage of his employer. He admired Patience but she was too cool, too critical, to capture his affection. Little Garda had that power, though it was not in him to be loyal to any woman. But Eugene Clapperton — Eugene and Garda — he ground his teeth at the thought of it.

  Althea was preparing a tray for Gemmel when the knock sounded on the door.

  “It’s him,” whispered Garda. The magic pronoun was all that was needed to set them in a glow of eager welcome.

  “She will have to wait for her lunch till he has gone,” said Althea. “Go to the door, Garda.”

  Althea nerved herself to remain in the room. She smiled at him and offered her hand. He clasped it warmly in his.

  “And how is everything with my dear little girls?” he asked.

  “Splendid,” answered Garda. “Gem had a good night. This morning she took three steps. It’s wonderful to see her. But she gets so excited.”

  “I hope you two hold her up carefully.”

  “Indeed we do. We’re more anxious than she is. She’s ready to try anything.”

  His face beamed. “Ready to try anything,” he repeated. “She’s a little heroine. May I go up?”

  He had been to see her every day in the hospital. Now that she was home again his possessive air in the three sisters was marked. With them he had shared anxiety, suspense, and the wonder of a cure that seemed miraculous. Garda led him upstairs to the room where, dressed in a light blue dressing gown, Gemmel lay on a couch. She looked up at them with a smile.

  “Good afternoon, my dear.” Eugene Clapperton took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I hear good accounts of you. You had a restful night and you have taken three steps.”

  “I would have taken a dozen,” she said, “if those sisters of mine had not been so nervous.”

  “Ah, but we must be careful of you. You are a very precious person. Isn’t she, Garda?”

  “She’ll soon be a very independent person,” returned Garda. She was conscious that he wanted to be left alone with Gemmel. So, after a moment’s lingering in the room, she went downstairs to her housework.

  “what sweet girls your sisters are!” said Eugene Clapperton. “They are devoted to you. But — aren’t we all?”

  She regarded him with a strange mixture of gratitude and wariness. “what you have done for me is beyond my understanding,” she said. “You have the kindest, most generous heart in the world.”

  “Enough of that,” he interrupted. “You know very well that I don’t want gratitude from you. Only friendship and a little — yes, for the present, a little love.”

  He gave an embarrassed laugh.

  “We all love you!” she exclaimed. “We love you — like a —”

  He interrupted, — “Don’t say like a father, Gem. Don’t say that.”

  “Never. We love you like our best, our dearest friend.”

  He settled himself in a chair by her side. “Tell me,” he said, �
��what you feel like when you stand on your two feet like other people, when you look right into people’s faces, instead of up at them.”

  “It is such a new experience, it will take me a while to get used to it. Then, there are those who are supporting me. When they let go of me, stop being fussy over me, then I shall realize it.”

  “But you are happy, Gem?”

  He again took her hand, and stroked it. “You know it’s my nature to want everyone about me to be happy. Even to be happier because of my existence. I’m an idealist. I dream of happiness in a miserable world. But this morning I had a shock. Colonel Whiteoak called on me. He made himself very disagreeable about my village. He was insulting. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more detestable man.” A hard look came into his eyes. “But insults have no effect on me. I’ll go on with my building. I’ll make him look small in this community.”

  She smiled, she could not help it.

  “You may smile,” he exclaimed. “But just give me time. Give Clappertown time. We’ll make him look small. When I get an idea in my head, Gem, I can think of little else. I have had the ideal village as my goal. My only other thoughts have been of you. But, by jingo, you’ve pretty nearly liquidated the village sometimes, you little scamp.”

  Life had offered Gemmel Griffith so little. It had not even given her the power of standing upright. She had always been forced to raise her eyes to other people, as though she were a being of inferior order but now, now she could rise on her own two legs and soon would be able to walk. And here was this wealthy man, the man who had poured out his good money for her recovery, calling her a little scamp with an air there was no mistaking. She had a sudden, half-mad desire to domineer over Eugene Clapperton, even while her heart was overflowing in gratitude to him. But gratitude was really against her nature. She had never been grateful to her sisters. The thought of being grateful for the rest of her days to Eugene Clapperton made her angry. She wished she could do something tremendous for him — pay him off and have done with it.

  “Call me Eugene,” he was saying. “I’d love to hear my name on your lips.”

  “Eugene,” she repeated obediently and prayed that Garda might come with her tray. “It’s a pretty name,” she added, reaching for succour in that direction. “Do tell me how you came to get it.”

  He liked to talk of himself. He told her how his mother had liked the name Eugene, and his father had liked the name Robert; so he had been called Eugene Robert. He never took his eyes from her face. She thought, “Has this look in his eyes something to do with my being like other women now? I’ve never seen the look before — I do wish Garda would come.”

  “And your name,” he was saying. “How did you get your dear name?”

  “Oh, my mother was determined to give us unusual names. That was all. Much better, I think, to have been Elizabeth and Ann and Jane.”

  “My little Gem,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Garda came in with the tray. A little frown from Gemmel detained her and, looking at his watch and seeing how late it was, Mr. Clapperton left, promising to call again the next day.

  “Don’t give me my tray. I couldn’t eat a bite.”

  Garda looked frightened. “Are you ill, Gem?”

  “No. Not ill. But —” She flung out her arm, then laid it across her eyes. “I’m so disturbed. Mr. Clapperton has been trying to tell me he loves me.”

  “Really! Oh, Gem! How thrilling! You’ve always been on the lookout for lovers for Althea and me, and now — almost before —” she hesitated.

  “Go on.”

  “Almost before you’re quite well you have one of your own.”

  “I know how Althea feels.”

  “Shy, you mean?”

  She uncovered her eyes. “No, not shy. Just terrified.”

  “But he’s so kind. Think what he’s done for you. And for us through you. If you spent the rest of your life trying to repay him you scarcely could do it.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s done a miracle for us.”

  “Yes. Like Christ. And I’d be willing to think of him like that.”

  “Do you think he wants to marry you?”

  “I suspect it. Picture me getting married!”

  “Gem, he’s terribly rich. He must be or he couldn’t do the things he does.”

  “I love worldly possessions. I’ve always hankered for them.”

  “You could have everything, Gem.”

  “So could you and Althea. That is what excites me ... Oh, why did this happen? And before I can take two steps alone!” She broke into sobs, covering her face with her hands.

  Garda knelt beside the sofa and took her sister in her arms. “You needn’t see him, if you don’t want to. He’s often said he doesn’t ask for gratitude. Come, let me dry your eyes.”

  Gemmel controlled herself. “Give me the tray,” she said.

  “That’s a good girl. You must eat and grow strong. And, when all is said and done, it’s rather nice to think that you’ve captivated a rich widower — with positively no effort. Think what you could do if you tried.” She arranged the tray in front of her sister.

  Gemmel laughed through her tears and began hungrily to eat. “I’ll write and tell Molly. What fun to tell her! You must leave that to me.”

  “Now you talk like yourself. Be a good girl and eat up every crumb.”

  Remembering some dish she had left on the stove she hastened downstairs. Closing the door of the kitchen behind her she faced Althea.

  “what do you suppose?”

  “what?”

  “Mr. Clapperton has been being sweet on Gem.”

  “She imagines it. You know what Gem is for imagining things. What did he say to her?”

  “I didn’t ask her.”

  “Then you don’t really know.”

  “I could tell by the way she looked. She was excited. Oh, Althea, if she really and truly recovers, and if she would marry Mr. Clapperton, what a different life we’d have!”

  “I ask nothing better than the life I have.”

  “With Gem an invalid?”

  “Gem never was an invalid. She’s always been well — except that she couldn’t walk. I’ve never thought of her as a burden.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “I’ve loved caring for her. She’s been like my child. Just like my little child.”

  “I know. I know. But think of her as well and rich — with nothing impossible to her.”

  “Is she eating her lunch?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shall take her a glass of wine.”

  “All right. I’ll get the cigarettes.”

  They went up to Gemmel’s room, doing their best to look natural. Certainly she now did. She lighted a cigarette and looked through the wine toward the window. “Eugene’s wine,” she said.

  “Goodness,” said Althea, “do you call him Eugene?”

  “I may as well begin.”

  Althea said solemnly, “Gem, I want you to put the thought of that man out of your head.”

  “what! Never think of my benefactor?”

  “Never, except as a benefactor.”

  “Althea, would you marry him if he asked you?”

  “I’d die first,” she answered passionately.

  “Ah, he’s not Finch, is he?”

  Althea turned away her face.

  “Gardie, would you marry him?”

  “Marry him? Let him give me the chance.”

  “Just for greed?”

  “I’m not thinking only of myself. Picture what I could do for you and Althea.”

  “That’s just it, isn’t it?” She lay, launching one tremulous smoke ring after another on the air, for no one could make them like she could.

  The screams of one of the Jalna dogs, in anguish of spirit as he chased a rabbit but could not overtake it, came through the open window, then died away, leaving only the vague sweet murmurings of late summer.

  XVI

  GRANDMOTHER’S R
OOM

  ADELINE CAME TO where Renny sat in the porch, the rain trickling noisily from the eave, the east wind blowing the long tendrils of Virginia Creeper that, because of its luxuriant covering of the porch, could find no foothold. She put her arms round him from behind and kissed him with demonstrative affection.

  “There’s something I want most terribly to do,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to do it ever since you came home.”

  His eyes turned toward hers that were so close. “Then why haven’t you asked before? You are not usually so diffident.”

  “But this is something very special. I’m sort of afraid to ask.”

  “Out with it. If I refuse, I refuse.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Very well. It’s this. All the while you were away I slept in your room. I wanted to sleep there more than anywhere. But now you’re home I have to share a room with Roma. I want a room of my own and you’ll never guess what room I want.”

  He stared. “what room?”

  “I want Granny’s room. I want Granny’s room for my own — if you’ll let me.”

  He drew her in front of him and set her on his knee.

  “Are you actually telling me that you have the wish to sleep alone in that queer old room? You couldn’t change things about, you know.”

  “I don’t want to change them about. I want it just as it is.”

  “And you have the cheek to ask for it? what do you suppose the uncles will say?”

  “Must it be as they say?”

  “Well, she was their mother.”

  “But it’s your house.”

  “No. It must be as they say. We’ll go and ask them what they think of the idea. Come along.”

  He sprang up, eager to tell his uncles what Adeline had suggested. He was full of pride in her.

  They left the front door open behind them. The wet cool air flooded the house. The dogs followed them up the stairs. The door of Nicholas’ room stood wide. Ernest was in there with him and they were going through old letters.

  “Come in, come in,” said Nicholas, pulling off his spectacles. “Come in and sit down. Ernest and I are destroying old letters. The time has come to go over them. Some of them had better not be read by posterity, eh, Ernest?” He picked up the little Cairn and set him on his knee.