A Family and a Fortune

Home > Other > A Family and a Fortune > Page 19
A Family and a Fortune Page 19

by Ivy Compton-Burnett


  ‘Is that what has happened to Father?’ said Clement to his brother. ‘Or has the stream sucked him in unawares? It has taken him already some distance. I wonder if he knows.’

  ‘Knows what?’

  ‘Is it like Father to wander about alone with a strange woman?’

  ‘It is like very few of us, but that is not what he is doing.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘When is Uncle going to be married?

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose not too soon after Mother’s death.’

  Clement remained at the window after his brother had left him. He was to stand there several times in the next two months. At the end of them he came to the room where his sister was alone.

  ‘Are not Father and Uncle going away in a few days?’

  ‘Yes. Uncle has to see his godfather’s lawyer, who manages his money. It may be about settlements or something. I have not asked. It is between him and Miss Sloane.

  ‘Then they are going near Grandpa’s old home. It was when he and Father were visiting the godfather that Father and Mother met.’

  ‘Yes, so it was. Yes, they must be going there. It will do Father good to get away alone with Uncle.’

  ‘But surely this will not be the suitable change for him. Are we simply passing over Mother’s death and expecting him to do the same?’

  ‘Oh, I had not thought. Of course he must not go there. I had forgotten the place. I will speak to Uncle. Poor Father, no wonder he was not very eager over the plan.’

  ‘Grandpa and Aunt Matty are more and more anxious to sell their house and the furniture they left in it,’ said Clement, strolling to the window and twisting the blind cord round in his hand, while his eyes went down to what was beneath. The agent who is supposed to be doing it seems to need some pressure and supervision. Could not Uncle try to put it through and come home a little later? It would put an end to Aunt Matty’s talk.’

  ‘Does she talk so much about it? She must talk to you and not to me. It suggests that I am in disgrace. I daresay Uncle could do it. It is a good idea. We will ask him.’

  ‘And I believe that Miss Sloane wants something done in her old home.’

  ‘Well, he will certainly be glad to do that. She can ask him herself; I will remind her. And I will also remind Aunt Matty. It will make a good approach and help to bridge the rift. What a thoughtful boy you grow!’

  Clement still twisted the cord.

  ‘You seem tied to the window in every sense. What is there to be seen from it? If we light upon any uplifting scenes, we are only concerned with them as onlookers. For us there remains the common task.’

  Chapter 7

  ‘I am just the person who should not be going away,’ said Dudley.

  ‘Courage, Uncle,’ said his niece. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fond. And we will all keep an eye on her for you.’

  ‘Do you want to give me any instructions as the person in charge?’ said Matty.

  ‘I have not had my own yet. I am waiting to be told to take care of myself and to come back as soon as I can. I must take the will for the deed, though that always seems to be giving people too much credit.’

  ‘Come away from the hall,’ said Justine. ‘Leave the engaged pair to enact their little scene in privacy and peace. They do not want eyes upon them at every moment. Someone give an arm to Aunt Matty.’

  ‘I think I may stay here, dear. I am not so able-bodied as to keep running away on any pretext. And I am to take Maria home as soon as your uncle has gone.’

  ‘I think it would be better to forget your office for once. Too duenna-like a course is less kind than it sounds.’

  ‘It did not sound kind, dear. And the words are not in place. There is nothing duenna-like about me. I have no practice in such things. I have been a person rather to need them from other people.’

  ‘Yes, I daresay, Aunt Matty. I did not mean the word to be a barbed one. Well, come along, Father. Leave Aunt Matty to carry out her duty in her own way. It would not be my way, but I must not impose my will on hers.’

  ‘You can only do your best,’ said Mark. ‘And that you have done.’

  ‘Come, let the engaged couple have anyhow only one pair of eyes upon them.’

  ‘They are still accustomed to being apart,’ said Edgar, as he moved from his place. ‘Their life together is not to begin yet.’

  ‘No, but common sense will hardly play much part in their feelings at this time. Whatever they feel, logic will not have much to do with it.’

  ‘If they don’t want people’s eyes they may not want their tongues.’

  ‘Father, protect me against this unchivalrous brother.’

  Edgar edged by his daughter and walked down the hall. She misinterpreted his abruptness and followed and put her hand through his arm. He shook it off and went on, giving one backward glance.

  ‘Father’s look at Uncle goes to my heart,’ she said, as she joined her brothers.

  Clement looked at her and did not speak. He also had followed his father’s eyes.

  ‘Some things are too sacred for our sight,’ said Aubrey. ‘They can only bear Aunt Matty’s.’

  ‘Yes, that is the inconsistence I can’t quite get over,’ said Justine. ‘It does not seem fair, but we are not allowed to prevent it.’

  ‘They have all their lives to be alone with each other,’ said Mark.

  ‘Oh, why can’t people see that the whole of their lives has no bearing on this moment?’ said his sister, beating her hands against her sides. ‘All those moments added together will not make this one. It is one of the high water marks of life, the first parting after an acknowledged engagement. Why must we be so uncromprehending about it all?’

  ‘We need not grasp more than is there,’ said Edgar, who had returned and now spoke with a smile.

  ‘I told him that we were all boys together,’ said Aubrey, with tears and mirth. ‘That is what he did not like. He tries to think he is a man.’

  ‘Is anyone hurt?’ asked Edgar at the door.

  ‘No, Father, only someone’s feelings. And they are already soothed,’ said Justine, encircling Aubrey’s head in a manner which for once he welcomed, as it hid his face. ‘So we need not worry you with it.’

  Edgar looked at his eldest and youngest children, as they went together from the room.

  ‘There is a good deal on your sister. I hope you will be a help to her. I will ask you both to do your best. A house like this goes ill without an older woman. It will run for a time of itself as it has been set on its lines. But if any part goes off, the whole must follow. We must support that one of us who may be destined to strive and fail.’

  ‘I hope that Uncle will live near to us,’ said Mark.

  ‘I hope so; I think he will do his best. But a separate household will not keep this one to its course. I trust the lines may run together; I trust they may.’

  Edgar left the house and walked on the path where he was used to walking with his brother. He held his head upright and his hands behind his back, as if seeking a position to replace the old one. His face was still and set, as though he would not yield to any feelings that would cause a change. He looked at his watch, surprised by its slowness, and at once replaced it and walked on.

  Justine, watching from a window, left her place and hastened to her room. Coming downstairs in outdoor clothes, she passed her brothers with a sign.

  ‘Do not ask me where I am going. Do not see me. Do not remember I have gone. Go on with what you are doing and leave me to do the same.’

  ‘Where is she going?’ said Mark. ‘What is the mystery?’

  ‘I suppose to see Aunt Matty. She may be about to make some scene. It is a good thing to be out of it.’

  ‘Is Aunt Matty very lonely without Mother?’ ‘She must miss the concern which it had taken sixty years to work up. I should think it could not have been done in less, it is no good for anyone else to begin it.’

  ‘It is a pity that Grandpa is too old for a companion to Fathe
r.’

  ‘You are less sure of yourself in that character?’

  ‘That aspect of me does not seem to strike him,’ said Mark, with his easy acceptance of the truth. ‘And I hesitate to bring it to his notice.’

  ‘We shall be a wretched household if Uncle - when Uncle goes. And I shall be obliged to spend more time in it.’

  ‘You take your usual simple attitude.’

  ‘What would happen to me if I did not?’

  ‘You might devote yourself to doing a mother’s part by Aubrey.’

  ‘You might have more success in that part yourself than as a wife for Father.’

  ‘Successful!’ called Justine’s voice, as her rapid feet bore her through the hall. ‘Successful and you need not ask in what way. That is in my own heart and I do not need to reveal it. I am content with my own sense of satisfaction.’

  Clement paced up and down, silent and as if preoccupied. When Maria came up the drive he glanced through the window, and continued pacing as if unaware of what he had seen.

  Three weeks later Aubrey came to the others.

  ‘I saw Father and Miss Sloane saying good-bye.’

  ‘Did you?’ said his sister. ‘Well, that was not much of an event. They must meet and part every day.’

  ‘Do people - do men kiss the women their brothers are going to marry?’

  ‘Oh, that is what you saw? So that is what it has come to. Well, I am glad it has. They can carry that off, being the people they are. I don’t know whether it is conventional between brothers and sisters-in-law, but that does not matter with these two. No doubt they felt that. They must know themselves as they are.’

  ‘Father will miss Miss Sloane when Uncle marries,’ said Clement.

  ‘And shall we not all miss several people? A great part of our life will be a blank. This is something to be a help to him until the break comes. It is sad that we should think in that way of the consummation of Uncle’s life, but we can hardly help it. I question indeed whether I have been wise in throwing Father and Maria so much together. I meant it for the best; God knows I did; but it will be something else to be relinquished. And I have been so glad to see him brighter and hear the old spring in his step. Well, we will not anticipate trouble. It will be on us soon enough.’

  ‘He must be better for being helped through the first stage. When that is over, he will have himself in hand and can look to his future. Fie must be used to his loss, before he is master of his own life.’

  ‘And people get used to anything,’ said Mark. ‘Even if he never gets over it, he must get used to it.’

  ‘He will get over it,’ said Justine. ‘To be honest, we know he will. His feeling for Mother was sound and true, but it was not that, not the kind to live by itself when its object was gone. You do not misunderstand me?’

  They did not, and she stroked Aubrey’s hand to help him over this initiation into the life of truth.

  ‘We are all leaving our loss behind,’ said Clement. ‘And it is better for us and for other people, the sooner it is done.’

  ‘I hope it does not mean that our little mother is drifting away,’ said Justine, frowning as she tried to think of another meaning. ‘But what dear, good boys you are in these days! You will not leave your sister alone at the helm. It is only Father whose future troubles me. He does seem to be separated by a wide gulf. Mark and I hoped that we could bridge it, but we found our mistake. That is why I am glad if Maria can get even a little way towards the self which is hidden. Somehow he seems to want to keep it so. Somehow I feel that there is a higher barrier between us than there was. There is something which I can’t put into words about it.’

  ‘Does Father like Miss Sloane better than Mother?’ said Aubrey.

  ‘Now, little boy, you know better than to ask such questions. It is not worth while to answer them. But Father’s life is not my affair, if he does not wish it to be. It was presumptuous to feel that I could in any way take Mother’s place. I am content that Maria should do so to any extent that she can. The trouble is that it cannot be for long.’

  ‘Then Father likes Miss Sloane better than you, Justine.’

  ‘Oh, come, I am Father’s only daughter, since Mother died the only woman in his family. You will know better when you are older, what that means. He may not want to mix up other relations with it. He has a right to have it by itself, simple and intact, if he wishes.’

  ‘Uncle is coming back tomorrow,’ said Clement.

  ‘And Father’s life will be full for the time. And we will not look further.’

  ‘Uncle has written to Miss Sloane every day,’ said Aubrey. ‘I saw the pile of letters on Aunt Matty’s desk.’

  ‘Really, little boy, I don’t know what to say to that. I hope they remained in a pile; I am sure they did; but even then I don’t know what has become of my training.’

  ‘I don’t think she writes to him as often,’ said Mark. ‘I took their letters to the post one day, and there was not one from her to him.’

  ‘My dear boys, what has come to you? I suppose you must have your little curiosities, but this goes too far. People must have their private lives and you must leave them. In some ways convention is a good thing. Mark, you are too old not to be quite certain about it.’

  ‘It is a wonder that the young are not worse than they are, when everything is condoned in them,’ said Clement. ‘We do all we can to prevent their improvement.’

  ‘Do you think Clement is softened lately, Justine?’ said Aubrey.

  ‘He has been more at home,’ said Mark. ‘I hoped, Justine, that our combined influence might do something for him. And I am not wholly disappointed.’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense. It will only end in a quarrel. And one thing I want to say. When Uncle comes back and meets Miss Sloane, don’t all stand round in a circle, gaping at them. Let them have their moment.’

  ‘I do not remember grouping ourselves in that manner or with that self-indulgence. It was not a conscious effect.’

  ‘Well, you know what I mean. Anyhow you all seem to know a good deal. Talk about the curiosity of women! I seem to have much the least. Keep away and allow them their first hour. I expect even Father will do that. And it will be more to him, a foretaste of the time when he will be deserted. For that is what I fear he will feel in spite of his children. Dear, dear, I hardly dare to look at the future.’

  Edgar did not do as his daughter foretold. He met his brother, standing at Maria’s side, and shook hands with his eyes on his face, as if he felt it was his duty to meet his eyes. Dudley took a step towards them, but stopped short, warned by some instinct that things were not as they had been. He drew back and waited for them to speak, feeling with his natural swiftness that this imposed on them the most demand and gave him the fullest chance. Maria’s letters came to him, and he saw in a flash that this was not how she wrote. He waited to hear that she wanted release and had enlisted his brother’s support. What he heard was always to return to his mind, each word sharp and heavy with all its meaning.

  ‘Dudley, I must say what I must. Everything comes from me. You must hear it from my lips. Maria wishes to be released from you and has consented to marry me. We would not continue in a lie to you for a day. I cannot ask you to wish us happiness, but I can hardly believe, with my knowledge of you, that you will not wish it. And I can say that I wished it to you, when it seemed that things were to be with me as they are with you.’

  Dudley looked at his brother with motionless eyes, and in an instant recovered himself and met the moment, seeming to himself to act a part over unrealized feeling.

  ‘So I am to be a hero. Well, it will suit me better than it would most people, much better than you, Edgar. I see how unheroic you are. And I return to my life of living for others. I don’t think that they have really liked my doing anything else. And I see that it is nicer for them. And I shall keep you both instead of giving up one for the other. I expect that is what you have been saying, it sounds an improvement, but I shall not le
t you think it is. I must have some revenge for being put in this position. I shall look so foolish, standing aside in simple renunciation.’

  ‘You will indeed keep us both,’ said Edgar, in so low a voice that he seemed to feel it unfitting that he should speak.

  ‘I ought to have thought of this myself. It would have come better from me. It does not come at all well from you, Edgar. I wish I could have the credit of suggesting it. I suppose I can’t have it? We can’t pretend that it did come from me?’

  ‘It did in a way, Dudley. You gave us so full a share of each other.’

  Dudley recoiled but in a moment went on.

  ‘And you have both taken a larger share than I meant. That is the worst of kindness; people take advantage of it. You really have done so. It will give me a great hold on you both.’

  His words, and his voice more than his words, laid a spell on his hearers and kept them still. Maria did not speak. She had nothing to say, nothing to add to what Edgar had said. Dudley looked at her, aloof and silent, and over his tumult of feeling continued to speak. He felt that he must get through the minutes, get them behind, that he must meet his brother’s children and break the truth, before he went away alone to face the years. He could not face them with anything more upon him.

  ‘I will go and tell Justine and the boys that I am to remain in their home. I suppose you do not wish me to leave it? You don’t feel as guilty before me as that. They will betray their pleasure at the news, and I suppose that will be balm to my sore heart. I may be fortunate that I have never needed any balm before. They would rather have me than you, Edgar. I suppose I have really been the only father they have known. It is a good thing that you have not to face this ordeal. You would be quite unequal to it. You have been very awkward in this last scene. I see what people mean when they say that I am the better of the two.’

  ‘So do I, Dudley.’

  Dudley left them with a light step and they still stood apart. But as he paused to get his grasp on himself, he saw them move to each other and lift their eyes. Their ordeal was over: his had begun.

 

‹ Prev