The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (150 page)

“You better go,” she said to Wragge, “and help Mr. Ernest with his coat.”

“Right — o!” sang out Wragge, and he darted through the kitchen door, up the three steps to the yard and bent his solicitous head before Ernest.

“Can I ’elp you, sir?” He got the brush into his own hand.

Ernest was glad because he was standing on the wrong side of the line and the breeze was blowing bits of fluff into his eyes.

“If you would put the coat on, sir,” suggested Wragge.

Ernest, with his help, donned the coat.

“Not many gentlemen,” said Wragge, brushing furiously, “’ave such a figger as you ’ave, sir, at fifty.”

Ernest smiled delightedly. “Fifty! I’m sixty-five!”

“Noa, noa, sir — I can’t believe it!”

Eliza could not hear what was being said but she could imagine. “Go on,” she sneered, between her clenched teeth, “flatter him — worm your way in!”

Ernest kept on the coat and joined his mother on the lawn. He had given Wragge a silk muffler he had found in the pocket of his coat. The day before he had seen Nicholas give him something. It was not well to let his brother get in ahead of him. He strode out, feeling that he looked well in the coat. His shadow lay on the grass, showing the elegant waistline.

The old lady sat tranquil, Wakefield sunk in the delicious depth of her lap. She dipped bits of biscuit into her glass of sherry and put them into his mouth. He kept his eyes on her face with the unquestioning pleasure of a little animal. Meg sat in a wicker chair reading one of Jane Austen’s novels, not because she was trying to be modern or because she thought her books “delicious” or “delightful,” but because Jane Austen had always been her favourite author.

Ernest turned round in front of them.

“How do you think it looks? That man of Renny’s gave it a good brushing.”

“Why don’t you buy a new one?” asked his mother. “Your father always bought a new one.”

“You must know by this time, Mamma, that my financial position is not what my father’s was.”

“What’s the use of having a good shape if you don’t dress it properly?”

“Do
you
think I should have a new coat, my dear?”

Meg pursed her lips. “This one looks very nice, but in the spring sunshine —”

“That settles it,” said Ernest. “I shall go to my tailor today and order a new one.” He turned suddenly to his mother. “Do you think that Renny is a bit close?”

She peered about her “Nearby d’ye mean? I want to see him.”

“No, no. I mean
close.
”

“Close by?” She peered around the edge of her fascinator. “I’ve a bone to pick with him. Where is he?”

Ernest sighed. “Mamma, I mean
close-fisted
.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I do. He’s like my father, I’m sorry to say. My father, old Dennis Court, he’d skin a flea for its hide and tallow. There was nothing he wouldn’t do.”

“But you are always saying, Granny, how many servants he kept,” said Meg.

“He kept them because they couldn’t leave him, he owed them so much.”

“But I don’t think Renny’s close. He only has asked questions. Like about the pigs.”

“He has been gong over the accounts, reckoning the vet’s bill, the feed bill, wondering why there isn’t feed enough raised on the place for horses and stock.”

“And he home only a week!” cried Adeline. “And with a medal! That ought to be enough for him.”

It made Meg unhappy to hear her best-loved brother criticized. Her face flushed as she defended him. “But he must understand the place. After all, it’s his. He’s got three boys to educate. And Baby coming on.”

“Baby wants more sops,” said Wakefield.

“Yes, my pet,” said Adeline. “This child would never live if I hadn’t an eye to him.” She filled his little mouth.

“It’s quite true,” went on Meg, “that the boy’s clothes have cost a lot. Their tennis rackets, their skates, their camping trips all mount up. Renny says why can’t we give them more stews and fewer cutlets.”

“Has he been into all that?” cried Ernest.

“By the time he’s middle-aged,” said Adeline, “he’ll be a skinflint.”

“Here he comes,” said Meg.

Adeline watched the approach of the tall figure of the Master of Jalna with some uneasiness. She hoped he would not suggest that she might contribute to the family exchequer. She had no intention of doing any such thing. She had her own private fortune and she meant to hang on to it. Her husband had left her a third of his money. The remaining two-thirds he had divided among her three sons, also bequeathing house and land to the youngest and least extravagant. Nicholas and Ernest had made their shares last for twenty years and thought they had done well with it, considering that they had lived in England among people of expensive tastes. They had gone into several ventures to increase their incomes but these had always failed. At the time of their younger brother’s death they had come home to Jalna and were settled down quite happily. They had felt that their presence was more or less necessary there. Now that Renny had come home they had, mingled with their sense of relief at his preservation, a stirring of resentment at his obvious desire to take over the reins.

“Renny has ridden too much,” observed Ernest, “he’s a bit bow-legged.”

“Uncle!” cried Meg, “What nonsense! Renny has beautiful legs.”

“He has the rider’s gait. Back a little bent. Legs slightly bowed. Hard and wiry.”

“He’ll have his hands full,” said Adeline, “if he tries to domineer over this household.”

She pushed out her underlip and watched the approach of her eldest grandson. She bent and whispered into Wakefield’s ear — “Granny’s pet. Mustn’t go to soldier man.”

“What’s he do?” whispered Wakefield.

“Kills people.” Her long arm pressed the little body protectively. “Stay with Granny.”

Renny came, slapping his hands together. “Hello, Wake! Come and have a ride on my shoulder.”

Wakefield burrowed his curly head into his grandmother’s side. She hastily finished the sherry lest it should be spilt.

“Go along, darling,” urged Meg, drawing him upright. “Go to Renny.”

“No. No.” He squirmed and burrowed. Renny’s eyes hardened. He showed his chagrin. He took Wakefield from Adeline’s lap and held him at arm’s length. No one was prepared for the shrieks that came from his squared mouth, as though without his volition. His face turned white. Renny set him down. At once he was quiet.

“What in thunder is the matter with him?”

“He’s shy,” said Meg.

“Shy! He’s utterly spoilt.”

“He thinks you’ll hurt him.”

“So I shall — if he doesn’t behave himself.”

He had been home a fortnight, and to speak so peremptorily! Meg flushed.

“I’m worn out,” said Adeline. “I want to go into the house. Give me your arm, Ernest.” But she was really amused and exhilarated.

“It hasn’t been very restful for you, Mamma,” remarked Ernest as he helped her to her feet.

Piers came round the side of the house wheeling his bicycle. A small case was on the carrier behind.

“I’m off,” he said, kissing Meg.

“Where are you going?” asked Renny.

Piers returned his look with nonchalance.

“With Tom Fennel — camping over the weekend.”

“Who said you might?”

“I told Meg I was going.” There was almost effrontery in his tone, and he fourteen. Now was the time for a lesson.

“You
told
Meg you were going?”

“Yes.”

“Well — put that bicycle away and next time you want to go off for the weekend, ask me.”

Their eyes, bright blue and fiery brown, held their antagonism in mid-air for a space. Then Piers turned, wheeled his bicycle back to the house, went behind it, out of sight, somehow containing the fury that was in him for that space. The he hurled the bicycle to the ground. The case fell off and he kicked it. It flew open. He kicked it till the clothes inside were scattered on the grass. In his blind anger he kicked the pedal of the bicycle and hurt his toes. He kicked the bicycle in its spokes. Just as he did this Renny came round the corner of the house. They stared at each other, neither wishing that the situation might be different. There was a triumphant light in both faces.

“So that’s the way you behave when you’re thwarted,” said Renny.

“Yes,” answered Piers. He gave the bicycle another kick.

Renny picked up the strap that had fastened the case to the carrier.

Piers backed away from him, his nostrils dilated.

In an instant he was bent forward by an iron hand on his neck. Blows from the strap rained down on him. He twisted and writhed. He reached for Renny’s legs. Renny thought he had never felt a body so resilient. He grinned as he brought the strap down on it.

“Will you do that again?” he asked.

“Yes!” shouted Piers.

Eden, strolling from the cherry orchard, a book in his hand, stood galvanized by the sight. His face had been dreamy but now a look of amused astonishment lighted it.

“Are you going to behave yourself?” demanded Renny.

“Yes.” Piers was breathing hard. He straightened himself, his eyes clouded by tears.

“Gather your things and put them away.”

Piers picked up a sweater, a pair of pyjamas, a toothbrush. He gave a surly look at Eden.

But now Eden was sorry for him. He found his soap and proffered it. But Piers ignored it.

“Let him do it himself,” said Renny.

Piers pushed the bent bicycle before him into a shed.

Eden put the soap to his nose and sniffed it.

“It must have felt lovely,” he said.

“What? To get a licking like that?”

“No. To give it. If you have the guts.”

An hour later Ernest met Piers in the upstairs passage.

“Why, I thought you were off for the weekend!” he said, simulating surprise.

“Renny wouldn’t let me go. You were there when he said,” mumbled Piers. “I don’t suppose it meant anything to you.”

“It did indeed, but I couldn’t believe he was in earnest.”

“You bet he was.”

“My dear boy, I am sorry!”

“So am I. It’s pretty hard luck. I’m darned if I’ll stand it. He thinks he owns the earth.”

“I’m afraid things aren’t going to be so pleasant for you boys. I’m afraid your Uncle Nicholas and Meggie and I have spoilt you.”

Piers looked lovingly at him. “Well,
he’s
not going to, you can see that.” Piers almost blubbered.

Ernest’s hand went to his pocket. “Take this, old fellow. Go to a film or something.” He put a silver half dollar into Piers’s hand.

Alone, Ernest felt both pleased and amused at himself. “I’ve given two presents this morning,” he thought. “Two kind deeds. I’m like an absurd old Boy Scout.”

F
RUSTRATED
P
LANS

R
ENNY FOUND
M
EG
poking about in the flower border to find out if a certain dark-blue delphinium, given her by Miss Pink, were flourishing. He stood watching her leisurely movements, unseen by her. As she squatted on her haunches, her light-brown hair slightly ruffled, her skin fair in the sunlight, she looked as though she had spent all her days in just such tranquil pursuits. Yet her life had been far from tranquil. Their mother had died when she was a child. She had never got on with their stepmother. She had been unfortunate in her one love affair. She had been hedged in by old people, keeping peace among them, adoring her father. Two deaths and a birth had shaken her world while Renny was in France. Tenderness for her welled up in him as he watched her hands move gently among the leaves.

“Hullo, Meggie,” he said.

She looked up at him. Her face clouded.

“Oh, Renny, I did think you were hard on Piers. Not letting him go with Tom Fennel. He must be terribly disappointed.”

“He’s a young ruffian.”

“Have you seen him since?”

“For a few minutes.”

She stood up, brushing the earth from her skirt.

“I’m glad you’re going to take him in hand. The truth is, I can’t do anything with him.”

He put an arm around her. “Don’t worry. He’ll soon find out he can’t be high cockalorum here.”

“If I try to control him, Gran interferes. She says he is like Grandfather….”

“I’ll take it out of him.”

“And Eden, he does just as he likes. Uncle Ernest and Aunt Augusta say he’s artistic. They encourage him.”

“Good God —
artistic
!”

“I don’t know what to think about that Mrs. Stroud. He spends a good deal of time in her house.”

“Hmph.”

“Finch is a dear little boy but he’s a great trial in some ways. If you tell him anything it goes straight in one ear and out the other. He can’t or won’t remember anything. Yesterday he put on his new shoes and ran through the gravel pit. He almost ruined them. Uncle Nick just laughed.”

“Hmph.”

“It’s so lovely having you home again. I have had no one of my own age about for so long.”

“Meg, there is something I want to talk to you about.”

She looked at him with a little apprehension. She was afraid he might be going to object to the way the place was run. She loathed the words
economize
and
change
.

“Yes?”

“It’s about Maurice.”

A flicker of amusement passed over her face. After the four years of his absence it was not disagreeable to know that he was once again in his house beyond the ravine, still hopelessly devoted to her. It would not be the first time that Renny had pleaded for him. She looked like a teasing girl now.

“Don’t imagine that I want to hear about him. You saw what my feelings were at the railway station.”

“You were wrought up. Now listen, Maurice loves you and you think you ought to let bygones be bygones and marry him. He’s served his country for four years. I think he deserves some reward.”

“I’d be a like a medal to pin to his breast. He could throw back his shoulders and say — ‘Well, boys, here is my medal.’”

“Don’t be a fool, Meg.”

Renny put both arms around her.

“Think of how nice it would be to have a wedding in the house. There hasn’t been one for twenty years.”

“Don’t remind me of that wedding. If you imagine that reminding me of it will make me want another, you’re mistaken.”