Sister of the Housemaster (13 page)

“
I certainly hope she will. Poor Sylvia. She
’
s already been lying on a couch for months, having to interest, herself in books and needlework.
”
(Ingrid did not realise that Sylvia was a naturally lazy person, and really relished her idleness.)
“
But don
’
t you see that the moment I am free of Sylvia, I shall be back at the hospital working? I am having a holiday now, and nobody could say that I am overworked at Sylvia
’
s, so I don
’
t thi
nk
I shall have any more holidays t
hi
s year. Besides, I am really dying to get back to work, Laurence. It
’
s so interesting and absorbing, and there
’
s such a satisfaction in doing something useful, Oh, I do hope Sylvia will soon be better.
”

“
Then I suppose I shan
’
t see much of you,
”
said Laurence.

“
Oh, why not? Not as much as you can at school of course; but
I’m
sure we can still see each other.
”

“
I must make the most of the summer ter
m
—
which is always such a busy one. Ingrid, you do know how I feel about you, don
’
t you?
”

“
I
’
m not sure,
”
she said, smiling at him half, shyly, h
a
lf-teasingly.

“
I know we haven
’
t known each other very long, and that these things sometimes take a long time to ripen properly; and I don
’
t want to spoil anything by speaking too soon; but I
’
d be darned annoyed if I spoke too late and missed the
b
oat
.
Ingrid, I
’
m very much in love with you. I
kn
ow you
’
re the only girl for me, I know that I want to marry you
...
Just now, I
’
m not really in a position to marry, and I know that you want to work at this job that absorbs you so; but I could know that, at some time in the future, you would m
ar
ry me, I
’
d be on top off the world. What do you I think about it, Ingrid?
”

She was silent for a while as she walked by hi
s
side along the narrow country lane. Then she smiled at him, pausing
i
n her walk so that he passed too, turning to face her.

“
I don
’
t quite know, Laurence. I
—
hadn
’
t got nearly as far as that. I like you very much, but you know that already. I don
’
t honestly think I
’
m in love
—
with you or anybody. I like to be with you, I love the times we have together; and the way we can talk to each other. I like to be seen out with you, but that
’
s only foolish pride because you
’
re so
bi
g and dashing and handsome.
”
She had to laugh a little at his expression.
“
Well,
”
she insisted,
“
you are all those things, and they are nice ones. But if that is love, it
’
s rather a mild sort of feeling, and I
’
m pretty sure it can
’
t be.
”

“
There
’
s nothing mild about my feeling for you.
”

“
You see. No, I
’
m afraid I
’
m not in love with you; and, as you say, I do want to do my work
—
I only wish I could get back to it. And you aren
’
t quite in a position to marry, so why don
’
t we leave things just as they are for a while?
”

“
We can
’
t really do anything else. But you don
’
t feel you can promise anything?
”

“
I can promise one thing
—
that I won
’
t forget what you have said, and that I will often think about it.
”

“
And we will see as much of each other as w
e
can, all next term?
”

“
Oh yes. You
’
re one of the nicest things about staying at Arnold
’
s.
”

He put an a
rm
about her and hugged her for a moment. When they went on, her hand was held closely in hi
s
.

The whole family went to a dance one evening. It was in support of a local charity, and Ingrid wore the white dress that Arnold had bought her for the visit to the Orindeans. Knowing her predilection for real flowers, Laurence had entrusted the girl at the village flower shop with the making of a spray of small spring flowers. It had enchanted Ingrid, and she pinned it to the shoulder of her white dress before she went downstairs.

Only Mrs. Pinder was
i
n the sitting-room. She was wearing black velvet and looked at once comfortable and dignified. She smiled with pleasure as she saw Ingrid,

“
My dear, how very pretty you look. What a really charming dres
s
.
”

“
It was a present from my brother. I love it myself.
”

“
And those delightful flowers e
nhance the general effect so well
.
”
Mrs. Pinder was thinking that it was small wonder that Laurence had fallen in love with this girl, for in her filmy white dress
with her dark hair and her sparkling brown eyes, she was most attractive. And there was a wa
r
mth and
candour
about her that appealed to the whole
P
inder family.

“
The flowers were Laurence
’
s gift,
”
smiled Ingrid.

“
Yes, so were mine. Wasn
’
t it sweet of him? He was always such a thoughtful boy. May I say, Ingrid, that we were all so surprised when we knew he wanted to bring a girl home here? He has never done such a thing before
—
not to stay here. And all so pleased when you arrived. We might have known he would make an excellent choice.
”

“
Oh please,
”
protested Ingrid.
“
You mustn
’
t make it sound so settled
—
and arranged. We are the best of friends, Laurence and I. But there isn
’
t anything more real
l
y.
”

Mrs.
Pinder
looked at her with an indulgent smile.

“
No, I
’
m afraid I
’
m rushing in again. But my dear, don
’
t forget I
’
ve known Laurence a long time. Don
’
t try to tell me that there isn
’
t anything more than friendship where he is concerned. But we won
’
t talk about it, if you would rather not
...
Ah, here
is Elsa.
Isn
’
t it funny how the impression has got about that men have to w
ai
t for women? In this house at least, it is al
wa
ys the other way round. Elsa and I have spent hours and hours waiting for Laurence and Tony and their father to tie their ties, and generally get themselves into their evening armo
u
r.
”

The dance was one more successful item in this w
e
ek of happy family reunion. In a short time, Ingrid knew, Mr. and Mrs.
Pinder
would be alone again, with Laurence and Elsa back at their teaching jobs, and Tony in uniform. They all made the
most of their time together, and when Ingrid left, at the end of her week
’
s stay, they were unanimous in inviting her to come again soon. Laurence saw her to her train.

“
I hope the rest of the holiday won
’
t be too boring for you,
”
he said.
“
It seems strange that you are going back to a big, empty school.
”

“
It won
’
t be boring. Sylvia is arranging all sorts of social events. But it will be nice to see you all coming back again.
”

“
I wish I were coming now,
”
he said.
“
Don
’
t forget me,
”

She smiled in reply, and stood at the window waving to him when the train started, until he was out of sight. It had been a most enjoyable week. She liked Laurence very much. Yet she was aware of the faintest relief at getting away from his ebullient family. She was aware of a feeling of pleased anticipation to be returning to the quiet nobility of the grey stone school buildings, the beauty and grandeur of the Cathedral, lifting its lofty spire to the sky.

CHAPTER SEVEN

INGR
ID
reached the Cathedral town in the approaching dusk of spring evening. Although she had lived there for a period a little less than three months, there was already a feeling of home about it, a welcome in its old streets and the houses that had settled down into a serene old age. The
modern
shops, the activity of the thriving school, were all to the good, since they gave a present life and zest, to so much that was ancient and beautiful. Ingrid, who now knew her way so well that she could have taken a short cut to
Arnold
’
s House, preferred to go by the Cathedral, slipping into the precincts by a small side gate, and making her way round the cloisters and through the Black Alley into the quadrangle. It was very quiet and still. Many centuries of existence, some of them troubled, some of them peaceful and prosperous, rested upon these old buildings and mellowed them. Pilgrims, as long ago as Chaucer
’
s time, had travelled through the me
di
eval countryside to reach this spot, and monks in brown robes had paced these cloisters. A. feeling of security
—
a reassurance that there was still much that was good and lasting
—
was to
be
had here, and Ingrid walked unhurriedly, appreciating it.

She came to Arnold
’
s House to find supper laid, and the meal ready. In a few minutes, she was seated at the table with Sylvia, Arnold and Miss Everton. Everything had gone very smoothly in her absence, and they were all interested to k
n
ow how she had enjoyed her week, and how she had spent it. After supper, she went into the kitchen to help Mis
s
Everton wash up.

“
I’m
so grateful to you,
”
said Ingrid,
“
for making it possible for me to have this week
’
s holiday.
”

“
It was a pleasure.
”

“
You would say
s
o, of course. I expect you are in a hurry to be gone
—
when do you intend leaving?
’

“
Tomorrow, I suppose, although I am not in such a hurry as you imagine. This has been a very gay week
—
Sylvia, was in a very good mood most of idle time, and it really was a pleasure to take your place. Patrick came last week-end
—
you knew he was coming to Saturday
’
s dinner, and he was able to stay until Tuesday evening. That delighted his sister, of course, and Miss Orindean was here on Saturday, and on Sunday to tea, and on Monday again to dinner. Something was happening all the time, and it was really mo
s
t interesting. Patrick
—
I suppose I should call him Mr. Edgeworth, but everybody else was calling
him
Patrick and he told me to, as well
—
was in wonderful form. He is delightful, Ingrid; you would have to admit it if you had been here last week-end; so interesting to listen to and such fun too. He was in
a
sort of recklessly gay mood on Sunday
—
I can
’
t imagine why
—
and the whole house seemed lighter and happier. We all laughed a lot, but I couldn
’
t remember afterwards what was so funny. I know the place seemed rather du
ll
and empty when he had gone.
”

“
I
’
m glad,
”
said Ingrid,
“
that you were enjoying yourself as well as I.
”

“
That wasn
’
t all, either. Mr. Southbrook said we weren
’
t indispensable to Sylvia when she had Patrick and Miss Orindean, so he took me off to the cinema, and we had a wonderful walk back afterwards. And on Thursday Miss Goode
l
l came to
s
p
e
nd the day and was persuaded to stay overnight
—
do you know her? She is a very old friend of Sylvia
’
s; so Arnold
—
Mr. Southbrook I should say
—
said we would leave them to gossip, and took me to see the Repertory
Players doing
The School for Scandal
.
Oh, it has been a wonderful we
e
k
.
”

“
You are very fond of Arnold, aren
’
t you?
”
asked Ingrid, smiling at Miss Everton sympathetically, glad that she had had such a good time. She was totally unprepared for the dark color that swept so unexpectedly into Miss Everton
’
s cheeks, for the desperate embarrassment that overtook her, so that tears came into her eyes, and she had to t
ear
away from Ingrid to recover herself.

“
Oh,
I
’
m so sorry,
”
said Ingrid at on
ce
.
“
So so
r
ry. I wouldn
’
t have said anything
...
I didn
’
t want to hurt you ... I had no idea..
.”

“
It
’
s all right,
”
said Miss Everton, her voice that had been light and
l
ilting, now subdued.
“
I don
’
t mind your knowing, but I wouldn
’
t want anybody else to know. I worship the ground that he walks on. I have for ages, oh, so long.
”

“
And he has no idea?
”
said Ingrid, but it was more a statement than a question.

“
Of course not. We have always been friends, good friends. In the work here, we get on so well together; but of course he has no idea of anything else
...
And, even if he had, which heaven forbid, he would never make a sign of it
”

“
Poor Nora,
”
said Ingrid, using the Christian name deliberately.
“
It
’
s a very sad state of affairs for you.
”

Miss Everton stood still, her hands idle on the edge of the sink. After a moment, she sighed unconsciously.

“
Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, I don
’
t know how to bear it. When Sylvia is in a bad mood
—
you
’
ve no idea how often that is, when things aren
’
t going her way
—
and he looks worried and anxious, and I long to comfort him. But usually, it isn
’
t too bad. I can be near him and tal
k
to him, and do things for him, and that is something. And as long as I can do just that, I shall stay here.
”

“
It isn
’
t a very happy outlook
—
it is so without hope.
”

“
Yes, I realise that. Arnold is one of those men with, the most scrupulous sense of hono
u
r. If ever he were to be tempted in that way, which is unlikely, I know cert
ainly that he would turn his back
on it. He has the strength to, and that gives me the strength. Y
ou know, Ingrid, the only thing
to do is to take a firm line with myself; as long as I think the whole thing is impossible, and resolutely keep on thinking so, I am all right. I can go on working with him and enjoying the work, and being grateful for the crumbs that fall from Sylvia
’
s table.
”

“
Poor Nora,
”
said Ingrid again.

“
And now,
”
said Miss Everton more cheerfully,
“
we won
’
t talk
of
it again.
”

“
But if you feel that you want to talk of it...
”

“
No. It would be
b
etter not to. In a way, it is a comfort that you know. You love him and I love him, and that makes a bond between us. Now you do the talking
—
we have talked enough about me. Tell me about Laurence
’
s family.
”

The talk turned to more general matters, but Ingrid
’
s mind was occupied for some time after this conversation with Nora Everton
’
s unavailing love for her brother. She could not help feeling that Nora would have been so much more suitable for Arnold than Sylvia. She loved the school and her work with the boys, she shared Arnold
’
s ideals a
nd
his outlook on education, she would have discussed all his problems with him, a thing that Sylvia had always refused to do. But it could not be.

Next morning, Mis
s
Everton left for her home, and Ingrid took up the reins once more. Life fell into routine again, a routine that now included a fair number of visitors and guests. Sylvia, improving in health a little each day, was sprightly and full of plans. She was also a little more demanding every day. What had been last week
’
s new demand, a little hesitant at first, was taken for granted this week, and a new demand took its place. As she became more and more sure of Ingrid
’
s support, she took more and more advantage of it, sometimes speaking in an imperious and commanding way that could have no possible justification. Arnold winced at her manner, and wondered if Ingrid was wounded by it, but Ingrid, who would not have any disturbance for Arnold
’
s sate, took it as lightly as possible.

One morning, Sylvia said:

“
Ingrid, I want you to ring up Patrick for me. There is a par
cel
to come from one of the big stores,
and as i
t will b
e
rather fragile, he can pick it up and bring it with
him
next week-end. Will you ask him to do that?
”

She gave Ingrid the particulars and Ingrid went to do her bidding. When she got her number, she was put on to another section; when that section replied,
sh
e was put on to Mr. E
d
gewor
th’
s secretary, Mr. Edgeworth
’
s secretary begged her to wait just a moment, and Ingrid waited some time before she heard Patrick
’
s voice.

“
Good morning
,”
she said brightly,
“
this is Ingrid
.”

“
Good morning, Ingrid,
”
he replied politely
.

“
How important you must be
—
it is
s
o difficult to reach you.
”

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he said formally.

“
Oh, I don
’
t mind
”
replied Ingrid, a laugh in her voice,
“
I have a message from Sylvia. She wants you to pick up a par
cel
for her and bring it with you at the week-end.
”

“
I’m
afraid I will not be able to come this weekend. Will you tell Sylvia for me, and tell her I am very sorry.
”

“
Oh dear, she will be disappointed.
”

“
I hardly think so, she
h
as so much other company.
”
His voice was
c
old, clipped and precise.

“
Well, I will tell her, but she won
’
t like it at
all.
”

“
Thank you,
”
he said.
“
Is that all?
”

“
Y
e
s, I think so.”

“
Then good-bye.
”

“
Good-bye,
”
said Ingrid, and hung up the receiver, feeling rebuked and chastened. She stood for a moment or two, staring down at Arnold
’
s desk, feeling strangely let-down, a little dis
couraged
. His voice had been so cold and unfriendly. Then she reminded herself that the telephone had a strange effect on some voices: he probably had not meant to sound unfriendly. Moreover, she had telephoned him at his office, and it might easily not have been convenient. She should have thought of that. Perhaps it was not easy for him to speak freely. Yes, of course it would be that. She went back to report to Sylvia that Patrick could not come.

“
Why not?
”
asked Sylvia
.

“
He didn
’
t say.
”

“
Didn
’
t ask him?
”

“
No, of course not, it might have been something private.
”

“
He hasn
’
t anything on for this week-end. He said so himself. Ring him up again and tell him I am counting on him.
”