The room was almost dark. She looked about and said, — “I wonder what I ought to do next.”
“If it’s the evening meal you’re thinking of, ma’am, don’t worry. I’ll be after getting that.”
“Oh, you can’t, Tom.”
“Indeed and I can. You’d be surprised at all I can do.”
“My sister has such a headache — I sent her to lie down.”
“I’ll carry up a tray to her,” he said at once, eager to help.
“You are kind, Tom. I shall get it ready and you may carry it up.”
She lingered a little watching him bring potatoes from the basement and set to peeling them. He did everything as though with a quiet enjoyment. It was almost touching to her to see him moving about the kitchen in his heavy boots trying to make no noise.
In the living room she found her husband reading the Reader’s Digest. He laid it down.
“I’ve just been enjoying a splendid article,” he said, “on causes and cures for mental illness. Several books are mentioned in it and I have a mind to get them. The trouble is that the books become too long-winded and complicated. On the whole I prefer condensed articles. D’you know, Gem, if I were a young man today I’d go in for psychiatry as a profession.”
“Really?” she said indifferently.
“Well, don’t you agree that there is nothing more interesting than the study of human nature? The real motives behind people’s actions, all the queer frustrations and inhibitions that beset the weak? I feel that I am cut out for this study, being absolutely free of all these disabilities.”
Suddenly she looked at him hard, laughing.
“You’d never make so much money at that sort of thing,” she said.
He laughed too. “Oh, shouldn’t I? I’d probably make more. Those psychiatrists do pretty well. I’d make money! You can trust your Tiddledy-winks for that, girlie.”
“I believe you,” she agreed.
“Well,” he said seriously, “I’ve always thought out what I wanted and gone straight for it.” He stretched out a hand and caught at her skirt. “You, for instance.”
She avoided the hand, went to the window, and looked out. The house was built in a hollow and in that shelter the trees grew thick and close to the house. The snow-laden air lowered itself to their tops. She said:
“Darkness is coming fast, and more snow with it. Shall we never have spring?”
“Spring will come, girlie. Nobody will be gladder of it than me. I think I’ll take you down to Atlantic City. How would you like that?”
“It would be lovely,” she said absently.
He regarded her with some irritation. “what’s the matter with you, girlie? You used to be so enthusiastic. Now you’ve got so don’t-care about things.”
“It’s the winter,” she said. “It’s so long.”
“You weren’t like that last spring.”
“Wasn’t I?”
“what you need is a change.”
“what about Althea — could she come?”
“No.” He spoke sharply. “One thing that is wrong with us is her being always on the spot. Love her as we may we need to get away by ourselves for a while. It’s not right for married people to always have an outsider with them. After I’ve gone a little deeper into the subject I intend to make a close study of Althea and find out just what her particular emotional upset is. Now young Bell I understand. His neurosis is definitely the result of his imprisonment in Germany. I sometimes fear for his sanity. You’d never guess what he said to me. He said he liked the prison camp.”
“Perhaps he didn’t enjoy your probings.”
Eugene Clapperton gave a smile of self-satisfaction. “He had no idea I was probing. It was all done so delicately. That’s what we psychiatrists have to be so very careful about — to do it delicately.”
It was out! He had called himself what he had been longing to! Gem turned away to hide the sardonic grin that bent her mouth down at the corners. She said:
“Well, you have two patients right at hand.”
“Three, Gem!” he cried. “But the third is incurable. I wouldn’t bother about him. I refer to Colonel Whiteoak. He’s got a family estate fixation — a grandmother complex — and a fear neurosis — all inside that foxy red head of his.”
“I find it hard to associate fear with him,” Gem said coldly.
Her husband gave his loud, rather mirthless laugh. “Fear! He’s one bundle of it. He’s always afraid of what I’m going to do, when my ambition is to be a benefactor to the neighbourhood.”
“You don’t call those bungalows a benefit, do you?”
“I do. They’re well built. They’re pretty, in my opinion. I’m going to build a pretty little village here.”
“what about the Blacks’ farm?”
The skin about his mouth tightened. “I’m going to make a nice little pile of money out of that. If Colonel Whiteoak doesn’t like what I build he can lump it.” He gave a consciously nonchalant yawn and added, — “It might be a jam factory.”
“But, Eugene,” she cried, “you promised —”
He cut her off with an almost violent change to a tone of authority. “Don’t remind me again of any half-promises I made.”
“They weren’t half-promises!”
“You said that bungalows on Vaughanlands would annoy you. This is a different matter. All Jalna lies between us and Black’s farm.”
“It would depreciate all the property in the neighbourhood.”
He spoke with resignation to that possibility. “We needn’t worry about that, girlie. We’ll, in all probability, be far away.”
“Eugene! what do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m getting tired of the old-fashioned Victorian atmosphere of this place. Ninety per cent of the neighbourhood are reactionaries and Colonel Whiteoak is the worst of them all.… He’d threaten me, would he? Threaten he’d lay hands on me! We’ll see. We’ll see. He who laughs last, laughs …” So worked up was Eugene Clapperton that he could not recall the last word of the proverb but kept on repeating — “laughs — laughs …”
She was intimidated by his manner. She could only ask, — “where would we go? why, I thought you intended to spend the rest of your life here!”
“I did, and I still may, but, as I said, there is much against the place — against the whole country, for that matter. The winters are too cold, too long. Look at this for April! They say you live ten years longer if you go to California. There is a lot in that country to attract a man of my age and my temperament.”
“Hollywood?” she asked.
“No. Not Hollywood.” He was displeased and fixed her with a stern eye. “I don’t quite know what you mean by that remark.”
“Nothing. I was just wondering. It is the only place in California I’ve heard about.”
“Well, your education leaves a good deal to be desired. There are lots of interesting places there. There are lots of people that would be congenial to a man of enquiring mind who likes to look into the heart of things and try to find out what is beyond the materialism of our times.” He was pleased by this speech. He looked searchingly at her to see what she thought of it. She looked impressed, he thought. He added:
“There’s also a beautiful climate. What would you say to such a move, Gem?”
“what about Althea?”
“She would come, of course.”
“And her Great Dane?”
“He could come too, if he wanted to.” Eugene Clapperton felt exhilarated by the thought of going to California. He felt kind and generous.
“It is good of you to say that, Tiddledy-winks,” she exclaimed. “And would you sell this property?”
“I think not. I think I’d like to keep a hold on all my property here. It would give me a good deal of interest to come back now and then and see how my factory and my little village were getting on.
“And this house?” she asked, her eyes shining. She could not help thinking what fun it woul
d be to go away. She had seen so little of the world.
He pursed his lips. “Well, I think I’d probably let this house to the manager of the factory. I know the very man. A rough diamond but as honest as they make them: Oh, don’t you worry, girlie. I’ll fix everything so it will be watertight!”
Upstairs the Great Dane began to bark.
“He wants me to bring Althea’s tray,” Gem cried. “Poor dear, she’s lying there neglected in the dark!”
“Raikes will carry it up for you, Gem. I hear him in the kitchen whistling. I must ask him not to whistle in the house. His is a particularly penetrating one.”
“But so sweet.” She bent her head to listen.
Left to himself Eugene Clapperton took the chair in which he was sitting by the arms and walked, dragging it after him, to face the oil painting of the shipwreck. He settled himself comfortably to gaze at it. At the first shadow of dusk he had turned on the electric light beneath it. Now, with almost ceremonial gravity, he raised his eyes to it. The thunderous clouds, the lurid lightning, the ship staggering toward the black menace of the rocks, enthralled him. How much longer had the ship lasted, he wondered. How many of the sailors clinging to the rigging had survived? Not many, he was sure of that. What a wonderful thing it was, he thought, to be able to lose oneself in that pictured struggle — to absorb the elemental grandeur of the scene! There were few business men who had the imagination to do it, few whose minds ever strayed from the mundane, the materialistic…. And it never had done him any harm. Only good. Consciously he relaxed, letting his mind swim in the roaring terror of the scene, hearing the pounding of the waves, the reverberation of the thunder.
In the kitchen Raikes was still whistling. Gem had prepared a tray for Althea and he had carried it up for her. Now he leant against the sink watching the Great Dane eat its supper of dog biscuit. Earlier in the day it had had its meal of meat and vegetables. Now it was not very hungry and chewed the hard morsels as if only to oblige. Raikes watched it kindly while he awaited Gem’s return. His thoughts moved forward to the hour when the Clappertons would be in bed — to the moment when he would gently open the door of the garage, take out the Cadillac, and drive to the club.
X
GOODBYE
On the last day of April the onrush of spring was able to defeat even the iron will of that winter. With glittering force the sun pushed back the heavy vapours and gave his fervent attention to land and rivers and lakes. With equal fervour they sought to make up for the delay in their reunion. Lake steamers began to nose their way through the spongy ice. The first captain to make the trip was presented as always with a top hat. The rivers, as though roaring with laughter in their freedom, piled up great blocks of broken ice, broke down bridges, overflowed their banks, brought floods, drowned people and cattle, showed themselves brown and menacing. In the woods catkins appeared, in the gardens crocus and scilla smiled gold and blue. The stems of the willows turned glossy yellow. Sap moved in the maples and came oozing down their trunks. Gnats, bugs, and worms appeared as though from nowhere and sunned themselves according to their pleasure, observed by Noah Binns with gloomy forecast. Piers’ cows, ewes, and sows gave themselves up to the bliss of having young. Hens ran cackling from the streaming barnyard and flopped into their nests just in time to lay an egg there. Piers’ little daughter Mary was given her first skipping rope and spent long, panting hours in trying to achieve one successful hop over it. The grass that covered the graves of all the Whiteoaks in the churchyard turned a delicate green and the sound of the church bell came sweet on the air.
The windows at Jalna were thrown open and the sunshine discovered fresh worn spots and cracks in the furnishings. But the old house bore the inspection well. Behind the rosy leaf buds of the Virginia creeper the rosy brick showed solid and strong. Woodwork and shutters had been freshly painted the year before and still looked fresh.
“You stand the racket pretty well, don’t you?” said Renny Whiteoak, addressing himself to the house from where he stood on the gravel drive. “You’ll soon be celebrating your centenary. Lord, what a party we’ll have for you!”
In his mind he went over the list of those of the family who would come to the party. His sister Meg and her daughter, Roma and Dennis, Piers and Pheasant and their children — young Maurice must come over from Ireland. Finch and Wakefield certainly, whatever distance they might have to travel. Perhaps they might be married by then, Finch for the second time. The right sort of wife would be good for him — he’d had bad luck in his first marriage. And Wakefield, God knew, had had bad luck in his first love. Well, better luck for them both next time, he hoped…. By that time Piers’ two younger sons would be grown up. Nooky was already as tall as Piers, and Philip a strapping fellow at fifteen. Mentally he added up the total number of the family who would be present at that party. Eighteen, if the two old uncles survived so long. Would it be possible? He sincerely hoped so. His mind shied away from the thought of their death. He would not consider it. Their mother had lived to be over a hundred, why not they? He raised his eyes confidently to the house, sunning itself after the long winter. How almost knowing it looked! How benign! He would protect it against all encroachments. It would remain as a fortress guarding the traditions of his forebears. He thought of Clapperton and gave a wry smile. He’d always be up to some mischief. But he felt himself a match for Clapperton. The day would come when he would put Clapperton permanently in his place — keep him there.
He heard a quick step and Adeline appeared from the darkness of the evergreens and came to him. She hooked an arm about his shoulder and looked up into his face.
“Daddy,” she said, “I want to ask you a very serious question.”
Before he spoke he studied that youthful face, in a moment’s delight, so warmly alive, so full of character as yet untried. Then he asked:
“Well, what is it?”
“It’s this. Can you really afford this trip for me? I know it’s terribly expensive.”
“Now, look here,” he spoke in some exasperation, “if I can’t afford a sea voyage and a visit to Ireland and London for my only daughter, things have reached a pretty low level with me.”
“That’s all very well, Daddy, but everything costs so terribly nowadays. Why — when Maurice told me the cost of the mere passage there and back I was shocked to the marrow. That’s to say nothing of the hotel bill in London!” Breathlessly she hurried on. “I know how the men’s wages are twice what they used to be and that the horses we’ve sold haven’t brought what we hoped they’d bring. I do think that perhaps I’d better give up the idea.”
“Too late. Your passage is bought and paid for.”
“Not really?”
“Yes, really. So stop worrying your head about cost.”
Still she was not satisfied. “But, Daddy, why have you refused to come? If you can afford it why won’t you come?”
“I have things to do at home.”
“Nothing that Uncle Piers can’t attend to, I’m very sure.”
“He can’t attend to Clapperton.”
“Are you joking?”
“No.”
“what a menace that man is!” she exclaimed.
“He is indeed…. Well, by next year I hope to settle him. Then we shall go to Ireland together.”
“I will hold you to that,” she said sternly.
But whether Renny was to accompany her or not, her pleasure in her preparations for the voyage made her days and even her dreams at night joyful. She went about the house singing, in a good voice but never in tune for more than six bars. She had a remarkable gift for starting on one tune and ending on another. It was impossible to discover why or on what note the change was made. For one thing she never sang the words but tra-la-la-ed her way in happy ignorance of her destination. This fascinated Finch. “Pomp and Circumstance!” he would shout, and then, after a few more bars, — “Rule, Britannia! How on earth do you do it?”
“It’s easy,” she would answer
. “We learned them at school.”
She would, had she been allowed, have done all her shopping and packing in two days; but Alayne was fastidious as to buying and to the careful packing of the clothes — “Though what your things will look like by the time you return I can’t imagine!”
“If only I could do as Uncle Finch does! Packing is simple for him. Oh, I wish I were a boy!”
“Girls do practically everything today that boys do. They wear their clothes, take up their professions, or business.”
“It isn’t the same. Even if a girl becomes a gangster she never would be as dangerous as one.”
“You’re being really silly, Adeline.”
“Of course I am,” cried Adeline. “To tell the truth I hardly know what I’m doing these days. I live in a delicious haze. When I went to Ireland before I was a child. It was wonderful going with Daddy, but — I was too young to appreciate travel as I can now. You remember how you felt when you went to Italy, when you were a girl.”
“Indeed I do … It was another world then.”
“Yes, I know. But even if travel and life and everything have deteriorated — as I’m sure they have — still, life seems pretty good to me.”
There were certain things to be done before she sailed and two of the most important of these were bidding goodbye to her cousins and her brother who were at boarding school. To be sure she had seen them not long ago in the Easter holidays but she had promised all four that she would make a special journey, at the very last, to their schools. What pleased her most about these goodbyes was that, in each case, Renny was to drive her to the schools. That meant two whole days in his company. So soon they would be far apart — the ocean rolling between.
They motored first to Roma’s school. She was younger than Adeline, the daughter of Renny’s brother Eden who had died when she was a baby. She was an odd child whom Alayne had always disliked and, because of something Roma had done, now almost hated. Adeline had not much love for her cousin, holding the same act against her, but Renny loved the girl, and she, in her cool fashion, was attached to Adeline.
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 449