Parents and Children (22 page)

‘Another laugh, Mrs Cranmer!' said Luce.

‘I do it by being always in the wrong. And though that is not much to do for Paul, it is the little, daily sacrifices that count. They are so much more than the one great one.'

‘I wonder if people would recognize that one, if they saw it,' said Eleanor.

‘There, see how much good I am doing you! It is a healthy sign to see the inconsistencies in others. It seems fortunate that it is almost universal.'

‘Does Ridley make any sacrifices?' said Regan.

‘Well, he may be waiting for the one great one.'

‘I hope we are not putting too much on him,' said Eleanor.

‘I don't think you could have thought I meant that, dear,' said Hope.

Regan went into laughter and Eleanor looked puzzled for a moment.

‘Fulbert may come back to do his own work,' said Regan, with a return of grimness.

‘And Ridley will go on waiting,' said Hope. ‘And I like my stepchildren to be frustrated. I can say it today, because it is to do you good.'

‘Do you know, Mrs Cranmer, it does have that effect?' said Luce, bringing her brows together.

‘Where is Sir Jesse?' said Hope. ‘I keep being afraid he will come in.'

‘He is with the boys in the library,' said Eleanor.

‘I always say people prefer their own sex. It is such a tribute to everyone, when they understand it so well. It means they
don't even mind being understood. I am glad Faith is not here, to look as if I were really saying something uncharitable.'

‘Faith is here, Mrs Cranmer,' said Luce, in a just audible tone, glancing out of the window and trying to suppress a smile.

‘I suppose she would be by now. So she has come to put me at a disadvantage.'

‘I hardly think that is fair.'

‘No, dear, but I am here to do you good. Being fair would achieve nothing, and being put at a disadvantage may. We will wait for Faith to do her part. If it is for your sakes, I mind nothing.'

Faith looked with gentle inquiry from face to face.

‘I am afraid it is the last of all days to call.'

‘I don't think you can be, dear,' said Hope.

‘I feel I must be an unwelcome visitor.'

‘I don't think you can feel that either.'

Faith brought her eyes to rest on her stepmother.

‘You see it is happening,' said Hope, fidgeting. ‘But I am only too glad to be of use.'

Faith's expression became one of inquiry.

‘You must have some errand that you have not said,' said Hope.

‘I did not like the idea of your walking home by yourself, Mother.'

‘But when we walk together, we can't keep in step.'

‘I will try and take shorter steps.'

‘And if I do the opposite, we shall meet each other. It is quite a little parable for our daily life.'

‘I am afraid I am rather tall,' said Faith, looking round with a deprecating smile. ‘But I do not think it at all fair for the shorter person to adapt herself. It is for the taller one to do that.'

‘It must be nice to give out of abundance,' said Hope.

‘Or bearable anyhow,' said Regan.

Luce exchanged a glance with Faith, in smiling reference to the attitude of the older women.

‘How are the children?' said Faith, turning to Eleanor.

‘They have had a sad day, I am afraid.'

‘Perhaps I may go and see them.'

‘Well, it would be very kind.'

‘Do let us go from floor to floor,' said Hope, incurring a glance from Faith, who had wished to go alone with Eleanor. ‘I should not feel I had been here, if I had not done that. And it would be a pity not to take advantage of my unembittered mood. I must always have seen the children with a jaundiced eye.'

‘I must just look in on my husband,' said Regan, as they crossed the hall.

‘I see I have no conception of a true union.'

Sir Jesse was engaged on some game of his youth with his eldest grandson, while the second looked on. He had lost his skill with years, and Daniel was being hard pressed to give him play, and at the same time cover his lapses. Graham was pale with the effort of following and supporting the contest.

‘Youth and Age,' said Faith, looking round with a smile. ‘It makes me wish I were a painter.'

‘That was a picture in words,' said Luce.

‘Not a very elaborate one, I am afraid,' said Faith, looking down as she turned to the stairs.

‘We see the older children first,' said Hope. ‘The higher we go, the younger they get. It seems odd that the smaller ones should have to climb further. We read about little, sturdy legs toiling up the stairs, but why does it have to be like that?'

‘The nurseries are always furthest from the lower floors,' said Faith.

‘Yes, that is what I said, dear. But why?'

‘We don't want too many nursery sounds,' said Eleanor.

‘I thought they were the most beautiful sounds in the world. I don't seem to understand the things I have missed. But I daresay that is natural.'

The schoolroom children were lying back in their chairs, listening to Miss Mitford reading aloud. They rose, looking rather conscious of their self-indulgence.

‘So they are in spirits again,' said Eleanor, who took any form of recreation as a token of this.

‘How do you know they are?' said Hope. ‘Miss Mitford may be trying to distract them.'

‘I hope she has met with a measure of success. They are themselves again, are they, Miss Mitford?'

‘No.'

‘Are they not? Why?'

‘Because their father has left them.'

‘But they are up to enjoying a book.'

‘Anyone is equal to something done by someone else.'

‘Well, I hope your time is not being quite wasted. What are you doing, James? You don't seem to be listening.'

James did not say he was sunk in the lethargy of exhaustion. He sat up and alertly indicated a box at his side.

‘I am tidying my case of curiosities.'

‘They do not look as if they had had much attention,' said Eleanor, smiling in the belief that a boy could pursue such an occupation without result. ‘You had better ask Venice to help you.'

‘Why Venice?'said Hope.

‘She is our obliging little woman.'

‘Miss Mitford said she would help me to put labels on the things,' said James.

‘Well, that would bring order out of chaos. Why do you prop up the box on a book? I never knew a boy put books to such odd purposes.'

‘It goes down without it,' said James, drawing out the book so that the box dropped with a crash, and taking the box into his arms as if to protect it.

‘Where did you get the book?' said his mother.

‘From the dining-room,' said James, in immediate, cordial response.

‘I saw a space on the shelves. Did you take more than one?'

‘Three all the same,' said James, holding the box with his chin, while he adjusted his hands beneath it. ‘Two of them are in my room.'

‘Then run and fetch them, my dear. They are not books you want to read.'

James looked for someone to whom to entrust his box, yielded it to Faith's ready hands, and scampered upstairs.

‘What is the book?' said Hope.

Eleanor met her eyes, while she addressed a casual remark to Miss Mitford, and everyone knew that the subject was not one for Isabel and Venice, including the pair concerned. James returned and put the books into Eleanor's hands without looking at them, and carefully retrieved his box.

‘Why did you take them?' said his mother.

‘They looked as if they were interesting,' said James, in an almost confidential tone. ‘They have covers like Miss Mitford's German fairy tales. And there were nine all alike. But perhaps the leaves wanted cutting.'

‘And can't you do that?' said Faith, at once.

‘I always tear them, if I do it,' said James, looking at her with frankness in his eyes, if in no other part of him.

‘That would not do for the dining-room books,' said Eleanor. ‘They must be left alone in future.'

‘Would you like to have a paper knife?' said Faith.

‘Is that a knife for cutting pages?' said James, with his customary unawareness of the purposes of things.

‘Yes. I will bring you one next time I come.'

‘Then I shall have one like Miss Mitford,' said James, betraying that he had seen this one in use.

‘Isabel looks tired, Miss Mitford,' said Eleanor. ‘And she has had a sleep. She cannot spend her life resting.'

‘Certainly not, on such a day as this in her family.'

‘Everything possible has been spared her.'

‘I am sure it has. But that could hardly be much.'

‘They would be better in bed,' said Eleanor, taking an accustomed outlet for her anxiety and other feelings.

‘You need not stand, children,' said Luce. ‘We know you have had a long day.'

‘Need they sit either?' said Hope. ‘I think they like to lie down. Are they prostrated by their father's going?'

‘Yes,' said Miss Mitford.

‘I expect they would like to be rid of us,' said Faith, going with decision to the door. ‘After all, they did not invite us in here, did they?'

‘You seemed to have a standing invitation, dear,' said Hope.

‘What an open expression James has!' said Faith, when she gained the landing.

Luce touched her arm and her own lips, and motioned towards the open door, and Faith nodded and smiled in suitable dumb response.

‘Well, that wasn't a very gracious welcome,' said Eleanor, to her children. ‘It is kind of people to come and see you. Don't you think it is, Isabel?'

‘I don't suppose so, or they would not come so often. People are not so fond of being kind.'

‘I don't think you have any reason for saying that, my dear. You have had great patience today.'

‘Oh, so have you,' said Isabel, raising her hands to her head.

Miss Mitford made as if to resume the book, and Eleanor left the room without requiring James's offices at the door, indeed shutting it herself with a certain sharpness. Her expression for the moment resembled Isabel's. Her daughter was at the end of her tether, and so was she.

The party went upstairs to the nursery, where Honor and Gavin were employed at the table, and Nevill was sitting on Hat-ton's lap, looking flushed and rumpled.

‘Too tired to sleep,' he said, as he turned to the guests.

‘Is he, Hatton?' said Eleanor, with a certain weariness in her own manner.

‘He missed his rest, madam. He will be all right in the morning.'

‘But not go to bed yet,' said Nevill, in a sharp tone.

‘I hope he isn't sickening for anything,' said Eleanor.

‘You must hope so,' said Hope. ‘I am sure I do too. Indeed I hope no one is.'

‘What are the others doing?' said Faith.

‘We are painting arrows for our bows and arrows,' said Gavin. ‘Miss Pilbeam helped us to make the bows. The arrows were in the shop.'

‘He has a bow-and-arrow,' said Nevill, pronouncing the last three words in one, and indicating a production of Mullet's on a chair.

‘That is not a real one,' said Gavin.

‘A little bow-and-arrow,' said Nevill, in a contented tone.

‘What will you shoot with them?' said Faith, with some misgiving in her tone.

‘Oh, birds and animals and things,' said Gavin. ‘They are not toys. They could give a mortal wound.'

‘I don't suppose we shall hit much,' said Honor. ‘And they are not poisoned arrows.'

‘He will shoot a bird,' said Nevill, his voice rising with his thought. ‘He will shoot a chicken; he will shoot a cock.'

‘A duck would be easy to shoot,' said Gavin.

‘A duck,' agreed Nevill, settling down on Hatton's lap.

‘They must not make havoc among the poultry, Hatton,' said Eleanor.

‘Then how are they to manage?' said Hope.

‘Why don't they have a target to shoot at?' said Faith.

‘What is a target?' said Gavin.

‘A piece of wood made on purpose for shooting,' said Faith, with mingled eagerness and precision. ‘It has holes or marks on it, so that people can aim.'

‘I would rather shoot at something alive. I expect I shall shoot at wild birds.'

‘He will too,' said Nevill.

‘But suppose you hit one and hurt it?'

‘It wouldn't know it was hurt; it would be dead,' said Gavin. ‘Grown-up men shoot birds.'

‘And animals too,' said Honor. ‘They shoot big game.'

‘What would you do with a dead bird?' said Faith.

‘Cook it and eat it,' said Gavin.

‘Or have a funeral,' said Honor.

‘And say prayers,' said Nevill, in a lower tone, with a movement of his hands towards each other.

‘But it might be hurt and not dead,' said Faith.

‘Then I would shoot it again and make it dead,' said Gavin.

‘Well, if you can depend on your aim like that!'

‘He doesn't,' said Honor, defending her brother from this charge. ‘If he shot a bird once, he could do it again.'

‘We might stuff a bird, to give to Father when he comes home,' said Gavin.

‘How would you do that?' said Faith, believing the process to involve objections.

‘Take out the inside and fill it up with something else. Fred knows about it. He is the gardener's boy.'

‘Fred is a nice boy,' said Nevill.

‘Wouldn't a live bird be better than a stuffed one?' said Faith, looking at Nevill with disagreement.

‘It wouldn't be your own,' said Honor. ‘It couldn't belong to anyone. It wouldn't be different from other birds.'

‘Father likes stuffed birds. There is one in his dressing-room,' said Gavin.

‘A little, red bird,' said Nevill. ‘He will shoot a robin for Father.'