The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (581 page)

Fitzturgis answered defensively, “We haven’t decided on a time yet.” Then he added, “So far as I am concerned the sooner the better.”

As he returned to the house he had the feeling that his affairs were being taken out of his hands. In a way this suited him, for he was inclined to indolence; he was in a strange country; he was committed to a new and different life. On the other hand he resented what he felt to be the somewhat arrogant tone of the master of Jalna. He wondered if it was a good combination, this combining of father-in-law and employer in the one person.

Adeline came across the lawn to meet him, carrying roses she had just been cutting.

“Aren’t they sweet!” she exclaimed, holding them to his face. “They’re just the old-fashioned crumply sort without a name, but I love them.”

“It’s wonderful to see you,” he said, “here in your own setting, with flowers from your own garden in your hands.”

“It is your garden too,” she said, conscious of something in him that needed reassurance.

He took her hand and they walked together to a seat that encircled an old silver-birch tree. The sun beat down hotly on the grass.

“The grass,” he said, “is a different colour.”

“Yes, I know.” She spoke apologetically. “It’s not so green.” Then, her eager eyes on his, she asked, “Did you enjoy your morning with Daddy? And what do you think of Jalna?”

“Oh, I like it.” He spoke warmly, but he did not go into the details she wanted. They sat silent a space, watching a squirrel dig a hole in the grass, find something to its liking, then deftly extract it and sit up nibbling it.

“The wild things here are so tame,” he said; then added, “I had a talk with your father — in his office.”

She laughed gaily. “Oh, I wish I’d been there!”

“why?” he asked abruptly.

“Because you are the two men I love best in all the world. It fascinates me to see your reactions to each other.”

“They might not have been altogether pleasing to you,” said Fitzturgis. “My ideas are different from what he seemed to expect and I find it hard to understand him.”

“Once you do you wouldn’t want him different. I think we all feel that way about him — except perhaps Mummy.”

“I can imagine she would.”

“It’s funny you’d feel that — so soon.”

Fitzturgis said sombrely, “Your father and I should have arranged everything before I came out.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “why, I thought you and I had. We corresponded for two years.”

“what about?” he demanded, seeing his reflection in the dark depths of her eyes, noticing a tiny mole near one of them.

“About how we wished we might be together, and I told you all the news from Jalna.”

“And I have made it clear that I am a poor man. I mean that I have nothing to invest. You know that my mother and sister are dependent on me.”

She heaved an exaggerated child’s sigh. “Of course I do. But don’t worry. Daddy always hopes people will have money to invest in the stables, but — if they haven’t — it doesn’t really matter.”

“But I’m not just ‘people,’ Adeline.”

“You’re too sensitive, Malt. There will be plenty for you to do. Daddy’s always wishing Uncle Piers had more time to help with the horses. And he’s so generous. He’ll give you a good share, you may be sure.”

He took her hand and kissed the palm. “You make me feel middle-aged and disillusioned,” he said. “But perhaps I’ll get over it in the air of Jalna where you all have a sort of born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-the-mouth look and a Victorian confidence in the future.”

He told her of Renny’s suggestion that they might arrange to have Meg’s house and she was delighted. She strained toward the evening when they could inspect it. She said:

“It will be splendid for when your people come from New York to visit us. Of course when they come to the wedding they’ll stay at Jalna.”

“Couldn’t we get married without any fuss? Just your family here — and we two?”

Adeline was astonished. “why, Maitland, don’t you want a proper wedding?”

“Not particularly. I hate fuss.”

“But don’t you want your family to come to see you married?”

“Not particularly. We could go down to New York to see them on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, I thought we’d go to one of our lakes in the north or perhaps to Quebec.”

“All right, dearest, whatever you want.”

At Meg’s all was preparation for the dinner party. Patience stayed at home that day and she and her mother became involved in intricate preparations for a meal to rival those at Jalna. Meg felt that when Renny came to her house he must be offered cooking equal to Mrs. Wragge’s. Patience, with little experience to help her, had a passion for trying new recipes. The result was that every utensil in the kitchen was in use, and by the time the guests began to arrive they were both in a state of confusion, heat, and almost despair. It had been Roma’s part to lay the table, but the setting of twelve places about the table, even with the extension leaf added, had been too much for her patience. She showed a flushed face at the kitchen door. “I’d like,” she said, “to throw all these dishes and knives and forks on the floor.”

“If you were doing what I’m doing,” said her cousin, “you might talk.”

“I’d never do it. There’s no sense in it.”

“Can’t you set the table without getting in a temper?”

“There’s no room for twelve. Why did Aunty Meg have to ask Philip and Archer?”

“I don’t know,” shouted Patience. “If you can’t lay the table, leave it to me. I’ll do it.”

“why can’t we have a buffet dinner like other people do?”

Meg called from the pantry, “I never have set my brother down to a buffet dinner, and never shall.”

“You don’t sit down, you stand,” grumbled Roma.

“Not in this house you don’t,” said Meg.

At this moment Piers and his family arrived, and Pheasant at once took over the setting of the table, Christian drifted away with Roma, Piers undertook the sharpening of the carving-knife, Philip began to mow the lawn, and little Mary went into a corner and cried.

By the time the party arrived from Jalna all was in order. They were welcomed by Meg wearing a dark-blue dress with white belt, which somehow made her plump waist appear even plumper; Patience in frilly pink, with not at all the fashionable silhouette; Roma in pale angelic blue. All regarded Fitzturgis with unstinted curiosity. He, on his part, looked over all three with a practiced eye.

As soon as possible Renny drew his sister aside.

“Meggie,” he said, “I have a prospective tenant or buyer for your house.”

“Oh splendid,” she cried. “who is it?”

“Fitzturgis. He is determined that he and Adeline shall have their own house, and I daresay he’s right. I haven’t been able to find out what means he has, but I guess not very affluent. Still, he should be able to pay a fair price or rent.”

“Oh, he must! Of course, if I were not a widow, with two young girls to support, it would not matter so much, but — with times what they are —”

“I know,” he said sympathetically, not reminding her that he paid her for Roma’s support and that Patience earned her own living.

“I shall love to think of Adeline in this house and that sweet Irishman too. And with me keeping house for Finch it seems almost too —”

“Too true to be good,” said Archer, just entering.

Renny looked with some sternness at his son. “Were you listening?” he demanded.

“I suppose I was,” answered Archer. “I find it so hard to draw the line between being not interested enough and being too interested.”

“I’ll draw it for you,” said Renny. “when you come upon two people talking in low tones together that’s the time to keep out.”

“But wherever I go I find two people talking in low tones. There seems to be no place for me.”

There now came a smell of burning from the kitchen and Meg flew to it in panic. However, no mischief had been done and shortly a pair of fine plump capons were placed on the table. Pheasant found her little daughter, comforted her, and the family drew about the table.

“Depressus extollor,”
remarked Archer, then, for the benefit of the company, translated, “Having been depressed, I am now exalted.” Alayne gave him a repressive look. Renny took up the carving-knife and fork.

He had barely disjointed a wing when there was the sound of a car on the drive. From where she sat Roma could see the arrival. “Do you know what?” she said to Christian, who sat next her. “It’s Uncle Nicholas. You’d think he’d know enough to stay home at his age.”

Now everyone had discovered him. There was a general standing up and craning of necks, Renny still gripping the carving-knife and fork. He exclaimed:

“The dear old boy said he wanted to come. I told him I thought it would be too much for him. He looked disappointed and now, by the Lord, he’s had his own way. Philip and Nooky, you two go and help him in.” The boys obeyed.

“who brought him?” Alayne asked in the voice she used when she was prepared to endure some fresh evidence of family wilfulness.

“Wright. In his own car. Now Wright has got him out. Why — he’s walking strongly!”

“Bless his heart,” said Meg. “Patience, will you lay a place for him?” She looked hopefully about the already crowded table.

“He had his dinner before we left,” said Alayne. “I saw to that.”

“I know,” Renny agreed. “But he ate very little. He’ll be hungry by now. Archer, you could let Uncle Nick have your place, couldn’t you?”

“Mercy!” said Archer. It was his latest favourite in words and he uttered it on a high complaining note.

By this time the old man was in the room, smiling his triumph. “Thought you’d got rid of me, didn’t you? But I enjoy a party as well as anyone.”

“And we’re delighted to have you,” cried Meg, going to him and kissing him.

“Now don’t trouble about me,” said Nicholas. “I’ll just sit at this little table and gnaw a bone. How pretty everything looks.”

But they troubled a good deal, the boys bringing a comfortable chair, Patience laying a cloth and dishes on the little table, Renny cutting his favourite parts from the chicken.

Little Mary said, “I want to bring flowers for his table.” She had to be lifted from her chair; and when she reappeared, with three short-stemmed daisies, a vase must be found for them. Luckily the night was warm and the food not too chilled as Fitzturgis had feared. He listened to, rather than joined in the loud animated talk, now and again meeting Alayne’s eyes in an amused interchange. He saw Roma’s cool gaze on him and wondered what she was thinking.

What splendid strawberry shortcake! what thick yellow cream! what “angel food,” with eight eggs in it! Meg beamed when he praised it. After they had had coffee she said to him privately:

“Renny tells me you are anxious to find a house and that you’d like to consider this. Now would be a good time to go over it.”

“Very well,” he agreed placidly.

Meg expected more enthusiasm than this.

“Are you sure you want to?” she asked.

“Yes, indeed,” he smiled; “I’d love to.”

Meg led the way and Renny joined them. He said, “Meg and I have known this house all our lives. We used to come here to tea as children. After the first war it was made into a two-family house, but Meg restored it to its original form when she bought it.”

“Some strange people have lived here,” she recalled. “Do you remember Mrs. Stroud, Renny?
And
the Dayborns?”

He looked thoughtful. “Yes — I remember.”

In every room Meg had some memory of its past to relate. Adeline, who had been helping Patience, now joined them. “Oh, Mait,” she breathed, tucking her hand into his arm, “won’t it be lovely?”

At the end of the tour Meg asked, “Do you think you’d like to buy it or rent it?”

“It would suit me better to rent,” said Fitzturgis.

“Oh yes,” agreed Adeline. “It would suit us better to rent.”

Downstairs Patience was saving to Roma, “Do you think you could give me that fifty dollars you borrowed from me?”

Roma looked faintly surprised. “Yes,” she said, “I’ll pay it — when I can get hold of some money.”

“But, Roma, you said Uncle Nick was making you a present of some quite soon.”

“I thought he was.”

“Mother would be very annoyed if I told her this.”

“Then don’t tell her.”

“Roma, do you expect to pay me back?”

“why, yes. Some day.” She was bored by the family party. She wanted to get away somewhere with Norman, whose car was waiting for her down the road a little way. But she went dutifully and kissed Nicholas goodnight, lingered a little on the lawn with the three boys, before drifting through the gate into the dusk.

“Mercy!” exclaimed Archer, looking after her.

Norman moved a book on psychoanalysis out of the way to make room for her on the seat of his car. He offered her a cigarette, lighted it for her.

“How’d the party go?” he asked.

She let the smoke drift down her nostrils, making a wide gesture with the hand that held the cigarette. “Like hell,” she said. “Uncle Nick arrived without warning just as we sat down at the table.”

“Hmph. How is he?”

“He’s all right — the old miser!”

“How’s your Aunt Meg behaving?”

“Oh, she’s been pretty bitchy for days. I suppose she’s tired. But who isn’t? I know I am? Patience has been bothering me for the fifty dollars I borrowed.
Fifty dollars!
You’d think it was a
thousand
.”

“what became of the fifty dollars, Roma?” Norman was really curious.

“I don’t know,” she said crossly. “All I know is that they’re always after me.”

“Never mind, darling.” Norman’s arm slid about her. “We’ll soon be married and you’ll be safe with me, where your family can harm you no more.”

Roma did not answer. She could see her reflection in the little looking glass and she was gazing at it rapt.

Finch’s Return

F
INCH HAD EXPECTED
to return alone to Jalna. But in London he had been joined by Maurice, who had come over from Ireland on a sudden impulse to see him before he sailed. Maurice had been suffering a mood of depression. He had felt himself to be alone, without deep roots either in Ireland or Canada. Most of all he had felt the finality of Fitzturgis’s departure. He had never believed that the engagement between him and Adeline would end in marriage. He had expected to see Fitzturgis making spasmodic efforts to sell his property, writing less and less often to Adeline, and at last settling down to an indolent and not unpleasant life on his infertile acres. Then suddenly out of the blue (that is, out of an airmail letter from Pheasant) had come word that Fitzturgis had made a sale, and was leaving with his mother and sister for New York, that Adeline expected to be married in the early fall.