Jalna: Books 1-4: The Building of Jalna / Morning at Jalna / Mary Wakefield / Young Renny

by de la Roche, Mazo

  Augusta, raising her face to the breeze, asked, “Why did you get married, Tite? Now you must always think of Belle.”

  “Do you mean Belle hinders me?” he said.

  “Well, you’re no longer free, are you?”

  Tite showed his white teeth in an enigmatic smile. “Since I married Belle,” he said, “I have even more freedom. When I go away, she looks after my boss for me. When I am at home, she waits on us both. She does all the work. She is accustomed to being a slave. Freedom is of no use to her. With me it is different. I am descended from Indian braves and from a nobly born French explorer. I must be free or die.”

  “And so must we,” said Nicholas, sniffing the spring wind. “Isn’t that so, Gussie?”

  The small sailing boat, like a creature alive, sported over the waves, which increased in size as they ventured farther out on the lake. The early green verdure of the shore was one with the bluish-green waters. Water birds flew close to the land. Land birds tried their exulting wings at the lake’s edge.

  All was motion. Everywhere was a fluid intermingling of the elements. Augusta felt that never before had she known what true happiness was. It was, she thought, freedom to go where you chose, when you chose. Her eyes sought the faces of her two companions. That odd smile, that so inscrutable smile, never left Tite’s lips. On the brow of Nicholas there was a frown of concentration as he bent all his powers on watching Tite at the sail. Yet there was a deep serenity on his face. Augusta said to him, “What if we never went back? Remember what Mr. Madigan said about running away.”

  “It’s a good idea,” said Nicholas. After a little he remarked to Tite, “I wish we had a light sailing boat like this. It’s just what we need.”

  “Why don’t you ask your Mamma to buy you one?”

  “Why do you say Mamma?” asked Nicholas. “It is Papa who does the buying.”

  “But it is the wife who persuades,” said Tite.

  “Does Belle persuade you?”

  “We have no money,” said Tite.

  “But how can you buy without money?”

  “There are other ways.” And he added, with easy satisfaction, “I know them all.”

  Augusta threw back her head, drank in the wild sweetness of the spring day, and remarked, “We are thinking — my brother and I — of leaving home.”

  It was impossible to surprise Tite. Now he looked as though this was no more than he had expected. But he asked, “What would you live on, my little lady, and where would you live?”

  Augusta answered, without hesitation, “We have friends. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. They have invited us to come to them at any time and to stay as long as we wish in Charleston. You see, Tite, our parents intend to take us to boarding school in England.”

  “And we don’t want to go,” put in Nicholas.

  “Young sir,” said Tite “you would receive a beautiful education in England — better than in any other place in all the world. It was in England that my boss got his education and no one in all this country has an education to match it. I wish I had your chance.”

  “We don’t want to be educated,” persisted Nicholas. “We want to be free.”

  “And to have strange adventures,” added Augusta.

  “In the English schools,” said Nicholas, “we’d be looked on as barbarians. We’d be bullied. Even our little brother would be bullied.”

  “Take my advice” — Tite’s narrow eyes rested speculatively on the two faces so eagerly turned to him — “get all the book-learning you can. It is something solid to hang on to. You can listen to the talk of other folks — the way they chatter — and all the while you reflect on how much more you know than they know. Reflection is a very nice pastime, miss” — he addressed Augusta in particular — “there is no better way of spending your time. Your face, miss, shows that you were made for reflection.”

  “And adventure,” said Augusta.

  “And adventure,” added Tite. “But look, the wind has veered. We must come about.”

  For a time they were occupied with the sail. Nicholas was especially good at manipulating them. After a time they were becalmed, and as they lounged in the small boat Augusta was moved to tell Tite of her plan. It was the first Nicholas had heard of it. Nevertheless he listened without turning a hair. Indeed an observer looking on might have thought he had concocted the whole scheme, so self-possessed was he.

  When Augusta and Nicholas returned home after the sail they entered the side door, which was usual, tiptoed past their mother’s room, from which came the sound of her voice telling a story to little Philip to keep him quiet while she coaxed the tangles out of his sunny hair. She interrupted her story to say, “This hair of yours, my little one, is like pure gold.”

  Philip had lately reached the stage of feeling himself to be an individual, one with feelings different from those of his family or of anyone else in the world. Now he said, “No.”

  “You silly little creature!” cried Adeline. “How can you know what colour your hair is? I tell you it’s pure gold and you’re the image of your papa who is the only man hereabout worth looking at.”

  “No,” said Philip.

  “Sit still,” cried Adeline, “or you’ll get smacked!”

  “No,” said Philip.

  “Are you going to obey?”

  “No.”

  Now there came the sound of a smart slap. Philip was set on his feet and at once ran loudly crying into the hall. When he saw Augusta and Nicholas trying to escape up the stairs his crying changed to laughter and he sturdily joined them, taking a hand of each.

  “Gussie — Nicky,” he said ingratiatingly.

  “Shall we let him come?” asked Nicholas.

  Augusta nodded, and clinging to their hands he climbed the stairs. They could hear Adeline calling, “Philip — Philip — come here and let Mamma put a clean dress on you!”

  “No,” said Philip.

  They discovered Ernest on the second flight of stairs. He was playing his secret game. This was played with a few discarded chessmen, some scraps of paper, and coloured stones. He would write directions for the chessmen, move them from one step to another, at the same time making remarks such as — “Live long, O King” — or “Now is my Solitary Fate” or “Call the Wolves to their Tea.” Augusta and Nicholas had a respect for this game. Never had they tried to understand it but they realized the comfort it had been to Ernest while he was ill. He gave them a wary look, as they guided little Philip past him, up the stairs, taking care not to disturb his solitary pleasure.

  It was not long before he joined them in Augusta’s room. Even they noticed how pale was his face and that he wore a red flannel bandage round his throat, from which came a pleasant odour of eucalyptus ointment.

  Ernest said, “I heard talk when I was on the stairs.”

  “What about?” asked Nicholas.

  “You should have been occupied with your game,” said Augusta.

  “I can play it and listen too,” he said.

  “What did you hear?” Nicholas asked peremptorily.

  Ernest looked knowing. “Something about running away,” he said, balancing on his toes.

  Little Philip too looked knowing. “Me wun away,” he said.

  “Now everybody knows,” exclaimed Nicholas crossly.

  Ernest said, “If you run away I’ll go too.” He made a heroic stand. “I’ll run to the ends of the earth with you.”

  Nicholas asked, “What do you know about running away?”

  “I know that Mr. Madigan advised us to.”

  Augusta looked deeply thoughtful. She said, “I think we had better tell Ernest. He can keep a secret, as we know by his secret play. Also he will be useful for carrying supplies and to manage the boat.”

  Nicholas was still unconvinced. “Ernest’s too little,” he said.

  Baby Philip pushed out his chest. “Me’s big,” he said.

  Adeline’s voice came up from below, calling Philip.

  Augusta, weary
she did not know why, had laid her pale cheek on the table and closed her eyes. Now her eyes flew open, she rose and picked up Philip. “You must go to Mamma,” she said and carried him down the stairs. He liked the way Augusta cradled him in her arms. The face she bent over him appeared to him for the first time as a comforting face. He ceased to try to be a boy and resigned himself for the moment to babyhood. A flood of tenderness passed from him, through her arms and into all her veins. Her heart beat heavily and she paused halfway down the stairs wondering if she could go on.

  Again came Adeline’s voice calling to Philip.

  “I’m bringing him, Mamma,” Augusta called back. She handed him over. Adeline said, “This is the most disobedient child I’ve had. By the time he’s seven he’ll need a man to control him.” Philip put both arms round her neck and planted a moist kiss on her mouth.

  Slowly Augusta mounted the stairs.

  She found Ernest making a list of the things they would need to take on the journey. “Just look at him,” exclaimed Nicholas. “We’ve only just given him permission to come with us, and already he’s taken the thing into his own hands.”

  “I’m good at making lists,” said Ernest. “Look.” He displayed a sheet of foolscap, on which two items were clearly written. Augusta read:

  Eucalyptus

  Rhubarb Powder

  She demanded, “What are these for?”

  Ernest answered, “You know I never leave home without eucalyptus….” He hesitated, then went on, “The rhubarb powder is for you … in case … you are bilious.”

  Augusta firmly crossed out that item. She said, “We shall need a blanket and a waterproof sheet —”

  Ernest put in, “My compass and a notebook for the ship’s log —”

  “A lantern,” said Nicholas, “and plenty of grub.”

  Ernest wrote, then clapped his hands. “What fun it is!” he laughed.

  “It’s a serious business,” said Augusta. She insisted that their “homework” should be done, but every spare moment was given to the list and to plans for the journey. Augusta’s plan was to cross the lake, take a train on the American side. They would sell the boat to the Americans and so obtain money for their railway fare.

  “Where shall we get money to pay Tite for the boat?” asked Nicholas. Augusta was the leader, there was no question about that. “And we’re not sure that he will sell it, are we?”

  “Tite will sell anything,” she answered. “We’ll pay him for the boat with the presents the Sinclairs gave us. My ring and your watch, Nicholas.”

  While these sacrifices were being contemplated Ernest occupied himself by rubbing ointment on his throat. He hummed a little tune. He had nothing but imagination and courage to contribute to the expenses of the long journey. It was he who proposed taking Augusta’s dove with them. He said, “We could release him like Noah did the dove and he would fly home and bring a message from us to say we had run away and were well and happy.”

  Nicholas felt this to be a good idea, but Augusta needed some persuading. Secretly she hoped that if the dove fared well on the voyage, she might take him all the way. Yet, if she had to send him adrift, as from an ark, she knew he would find his way back and once there Mrs. Coveyduck would care for him. Twice the dove had escaped and returned safely to Jalna.

  That night she could not sleep for the plans, the fancies beating on her brain. Next morning the sweetest spring wind she ever had encountered rattled the shutters of her room, tossed the branches, tossed her hair, brought a wild pigeon to her window to say cooing love-words to her dove.

  The suspicion dawned on her. Was the dove possibly a lady? Such a thought had never before entered her mind. Half-dressed she flew downstairs to her parents’ room. She tapped on the door, which was opened by Adeline wearing a new pink and white dressing gown. Philip was putting lather on his face.

  “Mamma,” began Augusta, “do you think …”

  “Gussie,” began Adeline, “do you think …” but she had the stronger voice, and continued — “do you think I should wear pink? Answer me.”

  “No,” Gussie replied truthfully.

  Adeline began at once to take off the dressing gown. “I knew it!” she cried. “Yet the man in the shop persuaded me! With my hair, he said, ’twould look elegant!”

  “And so it does,” said Philip. “Gussie is only envious. Isn’t that so, Gussie?”

  “Yes, Papa.” And she went on, “I really came to ask an important question.”

  “Out with it,” said Philip, applying the razor to his chin.

  “Do you think it possible,” Gussie went on, “that my dove may be a lady?” She swallowed and then got out, “It has a caller. He is most persistent.”

  “Nothing is more probable,” said Philip. “Don’t let the fellow in.”

  “Do you think he is what Mrs. Coveyduck calls a follower?” asked Gussie.

  “I do,” said Philip.

  “You are the silliest girl I’ve ever known,” said Adeline. “And the only thing for you to do is to turn your dove outdoors to join the wild birds. That’s what she wants.”

  Augusta went slowly along the hall. Before she reached the stairs Adeline called, “Come back here, Gussie!” And when Augusta reached her mother’s bedroom, Adeline exclaimed, “Kiss me! Kiss me quick!”

  The embrace took but a moment. Augusta was left with the feel of that warm vibrant body clasping her. There was little tenderness in the kiss. Rather it was the expression of a physical desire to dominate or, possibly, if Augusta had understood, a yearning to be protected from the world by the arms of her children.

  That day the bargain was struck with Tite. It was to be kept secret for all time. Augusta’s ring, Nicholas’s watch, were handed over to Tite. The children now were owners of a good little sailing boat. Tite, during the next week, gave them lessons on how to sail it. Every afternoon they were late for tea. Wilmott had an attack of lumbago and was glad when Tite offered to go with the children to the summerhouse at Jalna and there give them lessons in mathematics. But the time was spent on the lake sailing the boat. In the solitary boathouse were stored the provisions for the voyage. Secretly these things had been carried there and hidden. So dense was the undergrowth of the woodland, so secret were the paths made by Tite and the children, that they were able to carry on their plans without hindrance or detection. Like members of forgotten tribes, they stole through the forest paths, carrying their booty.

  “Shall we ever see home again?” Ernest asked one evening, when their preparations were completed.

  “When we have made our fortunes,” said Nicholas grandly, “we’ll come home and bring presents for everybody.”

  XXII

  VOYAGE

  “We should,” said Augusta, “eat a hearty breakfast to start us off well on our journey.”

  The boys agreed, but when they sat down to table they had little appetite. Philip was just finishing his ham and eggs. He held up a sunburnt cheek to be kissed. It was extraordinary that he seemed to notice nothing odd about the children. Adeline was not yet out of bed.

  “Well,” Philip said cheerfully, as the three seated themselves, “glad to be off to school, as usual?”

  “Rather gladder than usual,” Augusta answered cryptically.

  Philip seldom went to the trouble, the mental effort of analyzing the remarks made by his offspring, but this struck him as odd, worth looking into.

  “Why?” he demanded.

  Ernest took it on himself to answer. “Because,” he said, “we are to begin the study of Euclid.”

  Philip stared. Then, “You little horrors!” he said.

  This set Nicholas laughing. Philip was in great good humour and laughed with them. He now remarked to Ernest: “I see that your cold is better.”

  “Yes,” Ernest answered proudly. “But I’m taking my red flannel neckband and my bottle of eucalyptus with me, in case I feel a cold coming on.”

  Nicholas kicked him sharply under the table.

&n
bsp; “Ouch!” exclaimed Ernest.

  Philip said to Nicholas, “You may leave the table.”

  Nicholas left and ran down the basement stairs to the kitchen where the smallest member of the family, seated in his high chair, was eating his porridge. Nicholas patted him on the back. “Goodbye,” he said. “I may not see you again till you’re grown-up.”

  “Bye-bye!” Little Philip waved his spoon, then threw it on the floor.

  Mrs. Coveyduck turned Nicholas out of the kitchen. “Do let your little brother be,” she said. “He was as good as gold till you came. You always bring trouble.”

  The three adventurers gathered in the hall. They could hear the sewing machine humming briskly in the sitting room where the seamstress was already at work. Under cover of this they slipped out through the side door, ran along the path towards Wilmott’s cottage, but soon turned off into the secret path that led to the boathouse. The wood was lively with the music of singing birds.

  As they ran through the mossy greenness Ernest saw that there were tears on Augusta’s cheeks.

  “Why are you crying, Gussie?” he asked.

  “Life is so sad.” Her eyes looked large and mournful.

  The little boy was puzzled. “What do you mean, life is so sad, Gussie? You make me feel sad too.”

  She could not answer.

  “Perhaps we’d better stay at home a bit longer.”

  Nicholas, in the forefront, said, “If you’re going to start whining, Ernest, you may go back.”

  That had the desired effect. Ernest strode out manfully. When he cast a sidelong glance at Gussie tears were no longer to be seen. He slipped his hand into hers.

  Tite was waiting. Their supplies were already stowed in the boat as it lay beside the little wharf.

  “All is ready,” said Tite. “And it is high time you left because the boss is himself again. He expects to teach you this morning and has the books laid out in preparation. The next thing to happen will be that I shall be sent out to look for you. Ah, here is Annabelle. You had better be off before a search party is sent to look for you.”