Parents and Children (39 page)

‘Is that the way to make the most of your holiday?' said her mother, her last word showing James the extent of his misapprehension.

‘I daresay it is,' said Fulbert, resting his eyes on his daughter. ‘People must relax when they have been wrought up too far.'

‘Well, what is Venice doing?' said his wife.

Venice revealed a piece of embroidery, or rather took no steps to hide it.

‘You need not be ashamed of it, my dear. I am not such an advocate of doing nothing. Let me see it.'

Venice laid it out, appearing hardly to see it herself.

‘Sewing,' said her father. ‘Another way of resting.'

Venice's face cleared, and she looked at her mother for her opinion.

‘You are improving very much. I wish Isabel would learn to do a little needlework. As Father says, it would do her good.'

‘Did I say so?' said Fulbert. ‘Well, if it would, I hope she will take to it. And how is James passing his time?'

James handed his book to his mother with a smile, feeling a reluctance to show it to the parent responsible for it.

‘That is a very nice book for today. I think James is developing, Fulbert.'

‘This continual process in James should take him far,' said Isabel.

‘I won't put him through his paces this morning,' said Fulbert, looking at his son with his old, quizzical air.

‘The world is a different place to all of them,' said Eleanor.

‘And to me it is the same place, and I would ask no more. Well, good-bye, Miss Mitford. It is good of you to let us intrude on your province.'

‘Now you will settle down to a life where you have nothing to wish for,' said Eleanor, addressing her children at the door. ‘That is a pleasant thought for your mother and for you.'

There was silence after she had gone.

‘Nothing that could conceivably be realized,' said Isabel.

Her sister looked at her, and for a moment they held each other's eyes; then they suddenly rose and staggered to a distant sofa and fell on it in a fit of mirth.

James glanced up from his book, for once completely at a loss. Miss Mitford made a survey of her pupils and looked down with curiosity essentially satisfied. The two girls leant towards each other and spoke in tones audible to no one else.

‘Our imagination ran away,' said Isabel. ‘It is so rarely put to the proof. People have never lost what they think they have. And if they recover it, the moment comes.'

‘Do you mind much?' whispered Venice.

‘Not now the shock is over. In a way it is a relief. I can be at ease with everyone in the house. There is no one superior to me.'

‘I am not like you,' said Venice.

‘I can always protect you,' said Isabel.

‘Mother will always be here as well as Father,' said James, closing his book.

‘It is a small price to pay for Father's coming back,' said Isabel, causing Miss Mitford to raise her eyes. ‘And she will be a great deal with him.'

‘She will at first,' said James, and took up another book, as if he could leave the future.

‘We can't have Father without his wife. And Mother has nothing contemptible about her.'

‘You talk like Honor,' said James, in an absent tone.

‘She and I are said to be alike.'

‘I don't think you are,' said Venice.

‘No one is really like anyone else.'

‘That is true,' said Miss Mitford. ‘We are struck by a little likeness because it is imposed on so much difference.'

‘Venice is not like anyone. She is almost a beauty,' said Isabel, as if this precluded resemblance.

Venice fixed her eyes in front of her, while a great pleasure welled up within her, and James looked almost troubled by such an idea in connection with anyone so intimate.

Eleanor returned to the room.

‘Father is worried about you, Isabel. Are you really exhausted?'

‘No, only feeling a slight reaction, Mother.'

‘That is my good girl,' said Eleanor, with surprised approval. ‘I heard all that laughing, and I did not think it sounded much like exhaustion.'

‘It was a schoolroom joke, Mother.'

‘I expect you have all sorts of nonsense among yourselves,' said Eleanor, little thinking how much more worth her while such jests might be, than those she pursued downstairs.

‘Is Venice really a beauty?' said James.

‘Who has been saying she is?' said Eleanor, giving a deprecating look at Venice and suspecting Fulbert of the indiscretion.

‘Isabel,' said James.

‘Oh, Isabel,' said Eleanor, as if this testimony hardly counted. ‘Why, what a flattering sister to have! What has Venice to say about her in return?'

‘She often says she is clever,' said James. ‘A lot of people do.'

‘Well, so she is,' said Eleanor, thinking more easily of tribute along this line. ‘And what of James? Are people going to say the same thing about him?'

James was taken aback by this result of his generosity, though he should have been learning that most things gave rise to it.

‘Yes,' he said, in a light tone.

‘And what grounds are they going to have for saying it?'

James could not refer to his choice of books for an occasion, as it had already been forgotten; or to the poems which to himself were proof of it, as he had revealed them to no one, and was postponing publication until his maturity; and merely made uneasy movements.

‘Well, we won't talk about it on Father's first day,' said Eleanor, allowing that it was an awkward subject.

James returned to the book he had been reading when his parents entered.

‘I should not read while your mother is in the room, my boy.'

James kept his eyes on the page until he seemed to reach a climax, put in his marker and smiled at his mother, while he put out his hand to the other book, whose appearance might need explanation.

‘You were just reading to a place where you could stop.'

‘Yes.'

‘And now you are going to have a change,' said Eleanor, with a condoning smile and a sense of relief, as solemn spirits on seriously joyful occasions affected her as they did most people. ‘And now I hear Father calling me. I must remember who has the right to my time. I may not be able to visit you again today.'

She descended to the hall and came upon Fulbert and Luce engaged in talk. Her daughter turned to meet her.

‘Mother, the Cambridge results are out. They really came some days ago, but they have only transpired today. Daniel has a first, and Graham a low third. It is what they expected, so do not let us make a disturbance.'

‘Was anyone showing any tendency to do so, my dear?'

Fulbert jerked his thumb towards the door of the library with an air of giving an answer.

Sir Jesse emerged and walked in to luncheon, looking at no one. His grandsons followed him and paused to join their parents.

‘Well done, my boy,' said Fulbert, bringing his hand down on
Daniel's shoulder. ‘Some people belittle this kind of success, but I am not one of them. This is a happy chance on my first day with you all.'

‘We were keeping the news for an opportune moment,' said Daniel, not mentioning that they had postponed it until after their mother's marriage. ‘And then we forgot it in the excitement of your return. It was in the
Times
on Tuesday, and Grandpa scanned the lists this morning and found our place. Somehow it seems an odd thing for him to do.'

‘There is no limit to what he is capable of,' said Graham. ‘But I suppose not even he will think it a moment for dwelling on people's weaker sides.'

‘Have you already forgotten that some things are not to be mentioned?' said Eleanor.

‘I will remind myself of it, Mother. I am all for following the course.'

‘You shall have my support, my boy,' said Fulbert, ‘I have not come back to expect great things of you. I have done little myself but survive. I ask nothing but your welcome.'

‘He has it,' said Graham, in a fervent undertone.

‘You could not make an effort for your mother, Graham?' said Eleanor.

‘Graham, some day you may tell people what was the bitterest moment of your life,' said Daniel.

Fulbert signed towards the dining-room.

‘Is it wise to keep the old man waiting for his luncheon?'

Luce tiptoed to the room and back again, with a smile spreading over her face.

‘We have not done so, Father.'

‘We may as well go and catch him up,' said Fulbert, walking through the open door.

Sir Jesse gave no sign while his family took their seats, but presently turned to Graham.

‘I mentioned to you that I saw those lists in the
Times.
I asked you if I was to believe the evidence of my eyes. You did not answer my question.'

‘Well, I wish you would not do so, Grandpa.'

‘Am I to gather there is some mistake?'

‘Things in the
Times
tend to be true. And the same must be said of the testimony of people's senses.'

‘Are you speaking to me?'

‘I am answering you, Grandpa.'

‘Would you prefer to be apprenticed to a shoemaker or a shoeblack?'

‘The first; I should say there is no comparison. The work would be more skilled and more remunerative.'

‘Good reasons, my boy,' said Fulbert, under his breath.

‘Why are unsuccessful sons supposed to apply themselves to callings connected with shoes?' said Daniel.

‘No wonder good boots seem so very good,' said Graham. ‘A great deal of good blood must be behind the making of them.'

‘If you cannot apply your sharpness to your work, I want none of it,' said Sir Jesse.

‘Miss Mitford was so pleased about your place, Daniel,' said Luce. ‘She also saw the lists in the
Times.
'

‘The
Times?'
said Sir Jesse, Regan and Eleanor at once.

‘Not the family copy,' said Luce, laughing. ‘She has her own.'

‘How like her!' said Regan, her tone almost giving way under her feeling.

‘Why, Grandma, she may want to know the news of the day.'

‘And no doubt does what she wants,' said Regan, in the same tone.

‘You appear to be eating your luncheon, Graham,' said Sir Jesse, seeming to view ordinary proceeding in his grandson, as his wife did in the governess. ‘What are your ideas about your ultimate provision?'

‘If only Graham could be cured, what problems it would solve!' said Daniel.

‘You have never needed to have any on the subject yourself, Grandpa,' said Graham.

‘You need not compare yourself with me. I have done many other things.'

‘Yes, I know you have,' said Graham, drawing his mother's eyes.

‘Do you feel no gratitude to me for your home and your education?'

‘You make me pay too heavy a price for them.'

‘I hope that sort of payment will stand you in stead with other people.'

The three children ran into the room in outdoor clothes.

‘They have just come in to see us,' said Eleanor. ‘I thought they would be too much for their father today. He is not strong yet.'

‘Come and have a piece of my chicken,' said Fulbert, to his youngest son.

Nevill came up and waited while a spoon was supplied, not standing very close or looking at the process.

‘Did you like it?' said his father.

‘No, it burnt his tongue,' said Nevill, and turned away.

‘How shall I pay for my future portions of chicken?' said Graham.

‘I should be glad to know,' said Sir Jesse.

‘Why can't Graham just be a man like Grandpa and Father?' said Gavin, who had grasped the nature of the conversation.

‘He has no money,' said Eleanor. ‘You will all have to earn your living.'

‘Shall we? I thought it was only James.'

‘No, of course not. You are all in the same position.'

‘Then I shall be a traveller.'

‘You would not earn much like that.'

‘If I confronted great dangers, I should.'

‘Who would pay you for doing it? It would not be much good to other people.'

‘There are societies who pay,' said Honor. ‘People like things to be discovered.'

‘Graham's occupation is the immediate point,' said Sir Jesse.

‘I thought you had arranged it, sir,' said Graham.

‘He will call Grandpa, sir,' said Nevill, in an admiring tone.

‘Shall we say a word about Daniel?' said Fulbert. ‘We may as well dwell upon our success.'

‘He knows how glad and proud he has made us,' said Eleanor. ‘We do not need to talk about it.'

‘I also have grasped the general feeling,' said Graham.

‘I suppose Graham will be a tutor,' said Sir Jesse, in a tone that did not exalt this calling.

‘I should be the first of Miss Mitford's pupils to follow in her steps.'

Why isn't it nice to be a tutor?' said Honor. ‘Royal people have tutors, and their names are put in the papers.'

‘So are the ladies-in-waiting,' said Sir Jesse.

‘Grandpa spoke to Honor,' said Nevill, impressed by this equal answer.

‘Does Hatton also have the
Times?
' said Fulbert.

‘Hatton has it all,' said Nevill.

‘What are you going to be when you grow up?' said Fulbert, catching his son and lifting him to his knee.

‘He will be a king,' said Nevill, reconciling himself to his situation.

‘Then you will be above your father.'

‘Yes, Father is only a man.'

‘Why do you want to look down on us all?'

‘He will take care of you. And he will take care of Hatton and Mullet too.'

‘And what will Hatton be?'

‘She will be a lady when he marries her.'

‘But then she will be a queen.'

‘No, he will. There is only one. Hatton likes it to be him.'