Very Old Money

by Stanley Ellin

  In the corridor Mike said, “Of all the—”

  “Hush,” said Amy.

  “Come on, nobody says hush anymore.”

  “Until we’re outside,” Amy said, “hush.”

  However, on the way out they were waylaid by the stout and smiling Mabry in the kitchen. “Ah, good people. Let me make a guess. Your destination is the bank.”

  “Yep,” said Mike.

  “Good. Then if you do me a favor today, I will return it any time on demand.” He reached under his apron. “Here is some money for deposit and here is the deposit slip. All you need return is the slip, properly stamped.”

  “You put such faith in strangers?” Mike said.

  “Hardly strangers. Friends, who toil under the same yoke. Honesty shines in their eyes. Especially the lady’s. I make her overseer of this project.”

  Outside, Mike waited until they had made the uphill ascent to the sidewalk then said, “Oh, boy. If he had seen the lady’s sneaky performance—”

  “I was waiting for that,” Amy said. “He gave you the perfect opening for it, didn’t he?”

  “He didn’t have to. But I must say I admire your style. About your truthfulness I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “She shouldn’t have questioned us that way,” Amy said. “You don’t set servants to spying on the family.”

  “Family’s orders,” Mike pointed out. “And she sees her position as clear-cut. Yours, since you’ve developed this crush on the old lady, is ambiguous. In a way, Mrs. Mac is righter than you are.”

  “I don’t see that. And it’s not a crush. It’s an intense sympathy. Sometimes when I’m walking down a hall I try a few steps with my eyes tight shut just to sense what it’s like that way, and it’s terrifying. With all that brave front, she is so pitifully helpless. Besides, it’s not the whole family that’s allied against her. When I was with her this morning Glendon and Dorothy came to call. They get along fine with her. There’s a sort of teasing that goes on, and I think she likes it.”

  “Sounds hilarious. Any interesting talk develop?”

  Amy nodded broadly. “About Gwen. She is in London now trying to convince her husband—that Daniel Langfeld—to give her a polite divorce. That’s what Craig and Jocelyn don’t like. Any kind of divorce. And Dorothy said the only reason is they’re afraid there could be some publicity. In this day and age, can you imagine?”

  “Well, knowing the Durie phobia about publicity, any day and age, I can. But do you really mean that it’s Gwen who’s dumping Daniel?”

  “Yes. And according to Dorothy, it’s because Gwen found Daniel too earthy.”

  “Lovely,” Mike said. “And where were you when all this frank talk was going on? Hiding in the closet?”

  “Sitting right there at the desk sorting mail. But invisible all right.”

  “I know. Ma’am couldn’t see you, Glendon and Dorothy wouldn’t. But come to think of it, if we find Ma’am’s secret life getting troublesome, that couple might be the ones to turn to.”

  “Not at all,” Amy said sharply. “They’re family, aren’t they?”

  “Did you actually say family with a capital F?”

  “I’m serious, Mike. They are family, and they could be acting for the family in this cozying up to Ma’am. In getting her off guard.”

  “High-level spying.”

  “Whatever. And since you’re so impressed by Dorothy’s earthy quality—”

  “Me?”

  “—let me tell you that she’s nobody’s sex object. It so happens that Northeast Colonial puts out some kind of newsletter—inside advice to investors about stocks and bonds—and Dorothy Durie is its editor and chief researcher. That’s what Ma’am admires her for. Inside that earthy exterior is an astute businesswoman.”

  “Kind of fits Camilla, too,” Mike pointed out. “Is it these strange times doing it, or is there something about that house that infects the occupants with the commercial bug? Is there a possibility that eventually you and I—?”

  “That’s why we’re there,” said Amy.

  “So it is. Did you do any other business with Ma’am besides eavesdropping?”

  “Same as usual. Read her the obits, sorted the mail, and after Glendon and Dorothy left I finished reading her The Barretts of Wimpole Street.”

  “Moving her to tears.”

  “No, I don’t even think she was listening. She was far away and long ago. I think I was just sort of background music to whatever she was thinking.”

  “Moody thoughts? Morbid thoughts?”

  “No,” said Amy, “just as I told you. Far away and long ago.”

  “Funny you put it that way. You might have hit it right on the head. About her kind of thinking, I mean. You know those plays you told me she has lined up there? Not only the Barretts, but Cynara, Private Lives, and so on?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it struck me that they all date back to the early 1930s. Very close to when she went down those stairs. Possibly even that season. My guess is that they were the most memorable occasions for her just before she lost her sight. So, it wouldn’t only be the plays that matter to her, it would be the time, the place, the occasion itself she’s reliving. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Amy said in a strained voice. “Too much. I’m sorry you told it to me.”

  “Baby, don’t be like that. You can’t live her emotional life for her.”

  “I know. And I don’t even want to. But I can’t help it. Especially after seeing that portrait of her when she was a girl. When you see it you’ll know what I mean.”

  “I’d be glad to see it. But I’ve been given to understand that chauffeurs aren’t invited to ramble around on sight-seeing tours of the palace.”

  “Then I’ll just talk to the McEye about it.” Amy frowned at him. “Or would that suggest to her you’re taking an undue interest in the family’s private lives? On the other hand—”

  “Whenever you work it out,” Mike said, “just let me know.”

  Late Sunday afternoon, after a stint at the Forty-second Street library, they made it down to the Silverstones of Thompson Street on foot. Abe and Audrey greeted them fondly, and Audrey, Mike took note, after surveying his wife with a professional eye was obviously smitten by her own handiwork. “I knew that dress was a winner as soon as I saw it on the rack, doll. But what did you do, swear off jeans for keeps? I thought this kind of costume was strictly business.”

  “I know. But it didn’t seem fair to let the family have all the benefit of your good judgment.”

  Audrey looked startled. “You mean Mike’s folks are in town?”

  “God forbid, bless their hearts,” Mike said. “No, dear, family happens to be the generic term for the Duries.”

  “Oh? Well,” Audrey said to her favorite client, “you look enchanting. All the better you’ve gone off slouching, too. It’s about time.”

  “Generic term for the Duries,” Abe said. “Good God.”

  But Amy, Mike saw, was not to be diverted by this. She said to Audrey, “The Margaret Durie influence. Shoulders squared, back straight whether she’s sitting or standing. And even though she can’t see me, I have the feeling that if I slouch she’ll immediately say something about it. Anyhow”—she dug into her handbag and came up with the check she had prepared—“this is for you and Abe with gratitude. First payment, more to follow.”

  Abe took instant possession of the check. He glanced at it. “Too much. Ridiculous.” He tried to thrust it back into Amy’s hand and she firmly resisted.

  “It is not ridiculous, Abe. And I’ve already mailed out payment for the back rent here and payment in full to Mike’s father. And we still have some money left over.”

  “Look,” Abe said, “a schedule of payment must be reasonable. If you—”

  “Take the check, Abe,” Audrey said. Mike observed that she had been watching Amy’s face. “Just take the check and bring our friends their drinks.”

  “Capital idea,” Mike pu
t in. “Remember I’m restricted to beer while on duty. I need a total relaxant.”

  “But no snacks.” Audrey warned. “We found a good new place for dinner down in SoHo, and it’s made for overeating.”

  “And separate checks, I trust,” said Mike.

  “No, I don’t want my husband to start climbing the wall. This is our party to celebrate your payment schedule.”

  Abe handed Mike a bourbon and water, Amy a Perrier. He fixed drinks for Audrey and himself and turned an inquiring eye on Mike. He was evidently still in a mood. “Well, friend, what’s the latest about your generic Duries?”

  “Actually,” said Mike, “the earliest. We were lining up bibliographies in the library today. Anything mentioning the name Durie, anything in depth on colonial New York. Just scratching the surface so far.”

  “And,” Amy said accusingly to Abe, “Mike put me on Who’s Who, and I found out something. You’re in it and you never told us.”

  “You never asked. And why, Amy darling, were you researching me? All you had to do was come to the source.”

  “She’s serendipitous,” Mike said. “She was supposed to be doing Craig and Walter.”

  “And they’re not in Who’s Who,” Amy said, still accusatory. “Why not? Don’t they rate?”

  “By my reckoning,” Abe said, “they do. But I suppose you don’t have to be listed if you don’t want to be, and after what you’ve had to say about them I’m not surprised the Duries reject the invitation to join the club. For one thing, unlike us mere mortals, they don’t need printed assurance that they rate. For another thing, they seem powerfully compelled to stay out of any limelight. But behind the scenes at the manor house what goes? Your Mrs. McEye carry out her coup and seize power yet?”

  “Well—” Mike said and caught Amy’s small warning frown. Tough, he thought, after all the years of being open with the Silverstones, to lock off even one small corner from them, but Amy, really the one in the front-line trenches, had the say-so there. This double-agent thing she was involved in had to be closed off to any outsider, no matter how near and dear. “Well, the more I know our Mrs. Mac, the more I think that while she’d be an unknown as presidential timber, she’d make a hell of a one-woman cabinet. And my wife is now heading in the same direction. Along with being the perfect secretary and companion for dear old Miss Margaret.”

  Amy gave him a quick smile—an A-plus for diplomacy. “It’s not that big a deal,” she assured Abe and Audrey.

  Abe looked dissatisfied. “Interesting how everything is now all sweetness and light. No deeper thoughts? No sober reflections on exactly what the very, very rich are, and why? Is it possible, for example, that people like the Duries—all that very old money—have no consciousness of being rich?”

  “Hard to tell,” Mike said. “But I do have one ongoing reflection about them, and maybe you’d have an answer. This business of their sharing the same house. Father, mother, and unmarried children, yes. But here we have a couple of brothers and a sister, and their adult children, married and otherwise. Granting there’s more than enough space for everybody to live the full life without banging elbows, is this a customary mode for such as the Duries?”

  “Hotel style,” Audrey suggested. “Same as if they bought their own hotel and used different suites in it. Why not?”

  “Except,” Mike said, “this is very much a private home occupied by one very private family. And the staff is not like hotel staff. In a way it’s part of the family. Especially the old-timers. Highly privileged. The chef, the building custodian, even that chauffeur I replaced. No, the hotel analogy does not fit the case.”

  “The Kennedys,” Abe said. From his tone Mike recognized that, even though he wasn’t controlling the conversation, he was interested in it. “Didn’t they set up in family enclaves?”

  “For a specific purpose,” Mike said. “Aggression. Taking over. Right up to the presidency. But there’s none of that in the Duries. Not the slightest whiff. If anything, their enclave is completely defensive. Pull the door shut and block the world out. Business done at the office, some entertaining of the chosen in the house, that’s it.”

  “It isn’t bad,” Amy put in, “once you’re used to it. Comfortable in a way.”

  “You agree?” Abe asked Mike.

  Mike thought it over. “I don’t know if comfortable is the word. There are family conflicts you become aware of, volatile elements at work. But I know what Amy means. Once you settle in you do undergo a change. Like when we were walking here from uptown and I felt that everything along the way was just too damn noisy and dirty to tolerate. Sometimes even threatening. In the Durie house you’re totally cut off from the confusion. Do your job, keep your nose clean, and you’re sort of invulnerable to that mess out there.”

  “I see,” Abe said. “Then you polish up the car nicely, the boss pats your head, and you’re doubly gratified. Of course, along the way you could lose that cold objectivity that is supposed to be the writer’s prime instrument.”

  “I doubt it,” Mike said. “All I’ve lost so far is the sense of money pressure that made writing damn near impossible. I mean, watch the calendar and wonder if you can get up the rent on time, and you can’t really concentrate on your beautiful prose. Right now, the way things are, I can.”

  “We’re going out to dinner now,” Audrey said loudly. “Finish your drinks, all of you, and place your glasses on the coasters, not the woodwork. Especially you, Abe.”

  “Hey,” Abe protested, “we were just getting into—”

  “Chug-a-lug, Abe,” Audrey said sweetly.

  Since the host continued in his mood the dinner at the good new place in Tribeca didn’t go too well. It was, Mike recognized, like doing white water in a canoe, Audrey paddling stern and struggling at every shift in current to keep them afloat.

  When it came time for the party to break up there was a hassle about transportation. Abe announced that he was driving his guests home, Mike, despite aching feet, the walk downtown having caught up with them, insisted that the guests could just as easily take the bus almost to their back door. In the end, out of regard for Audrey, who looked as if she were ready to climb the wall, he conceded the point. Abe dropped them off at the Madison Avenue corner of the building, and where Audrey’s farewell was heartwarming, his was just on the edge of being chilling.

  O’Dowd opened the service door and greeted them pleasantly, and when they stopped to pick up their schedule slips a gathering around the table in staff hall was no less pleasant in manner. This, Mike found, only added to his resentment of Abe’s carrying on. He held back his private thoughts until he and Amy were in the apartment. An advantage of this kind of marriage, he knew, where the partners shared a single thought under duress was that you didn’t have to spell anything out. The basic code did fine.

  “What the hell was going on?” he demanded of Amy.

  “He’s jealous of the Duries,” she said.

  “Abe?”

  “As soon as I referred to them as family. He and Audie are our family, that’s how he wants it. And he didn’t like our paying back as much as we did. I think he’d just as soon we didn’t pay back anything. He might have even felt somehow that since it’s Durie money we’re paying with, they’re taking possession. And one way or another, everything said after that only made it worse. Underneath, it was all jealousy of them.”

  Mike tried to see this. “But since he’s just as bright as Audie and you can’t apply any of this to her—”

  “She’s not as insecure as Abe. Anyhow, as soon as they’re back home Audie’ll call up. And put Abe on to apologize.”

  She was almost right. A half hour later Audrey did call, but it was she who made the apologies. Abe did not get on the phone.

  “Hell,” Mike said, “he is a stiff-necked people, isn’t he?”

  “He’ll come around,” said Amy.

  All the same, she found herself thinking during the days that followed, she might act casually about it for
Mike’s benefit, but it would be rough if the friendship with the Silverstones was in the process of being broken. Or even badly bent. And it was all up to Abe really, who, like Achilles, still sulked in his tent.

  Finally, while on office duty Friday Amy phoned Audrey at the boutique.

  “The extrasensory perception kid,” Audrey said. “I was just about to take a chance on your house rules and call you. Wednesday’s your other day off, isn’t it? I kind of thought you two would be dropping in for potluck.”

  “When Abe invites us, Audie. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Audrey heaved a long sigh. “You’re making life very complicated for me, doll. Why not just come over Sunday and let the men go into the study and work out their problems that way?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be fair to Mike. He’s the one on the bottom of the pile, and he’s being completely well balanced and courageous about it—there’s a lot of pride to swallow—and he shouldn’t have to swallow any more because of Abe. What got into him anyhow?”

  Audrey sighed again. “He says he detected symptoms in both of you of character change. He says you’re being overwhelmed by your new condition in life and you’re not even aware of it. When I told him I didn’t believe that for a moment he cooled off on me for a couple of days. Make of him what you will.”

  “What I will,” Amy said, “is that he’s worried the Duries are taking his place in our lives. Don’t you think that’s what it is?”

  “It could be, doll. And when you hear his voice on the phone you’ll know he caught wise to it himself. Meanwhile, you keep in touch, hear? Never mind my neurotic husband, I need that.”

  “So do I, Audie.”

  The whole thing would have been funny, Amy knew, if it didn’t cast such a pall. Yet the whole week seemed to be pallcasting time. Spell of emotional fair weather with sudden dark passages, the dark passages moving in not only from out there where Achilles sulked but from right in here where Ma’am was doing her thing, whatever it was.