The Shadow of the Lynx (30 page)

as it was said, comfortable; and in any case we were not rich either.

I believe that something had happened to our finances during the last two years, for whenever money was mentioned Papa would assume a studied vagueness which meant that this was a subject he did not wish to hear of because it bothered him.

However, it would be very convenient if Franklyn and I married. I had even come to regard this as an inevitability. I wondered whether Franklyn did too. He always treated me with a delightful courtesy; but then he extended this to everyone. I had seen the village post mistress flush with pleasure when he exchanged a few words with her. He was tall-all the Wakefields had been tall—and he managed his father’s estate with tact and efficiency, being a very good landlord to all the tenants. But behind Franklyn’s easygoing charm there was an aloofness.

His eyes were slaty grey rather than blue; there was a lack of warmth in them and one felt that if he was never angry, he was never really delighted either. He was equable; and therefore, though a comforting person to be with, hardly an exciting one. Everything about him was conventional: his immaculate dress; his courteous manners; his well-ordered life.

These facts had not occurred to me before. It was because of those two people who had invaded my afternoon that I had begun this assessment.

Well, they had gone. I never expected to see them again.

“Exactly,” Papa was saying.

“I always tell myself that I must accept this hard task for the sake of posterity?

“I am sure,” added Franklyn, ‘that you will complete it to the satisfaction of the present generation and those to come. “

My father was pleased, particularly when Lucie added earnestly: “I am sure you will, too. Sir Hilary.”

Then Lucie and Franklyn began to talk with Papa, and Mamma yawned and said her headache was coming on again, so Lucie took her to her room where she would lie down before dinner.

“Franklyn, you’ll dine with us?” said my father; and Franklyn graciously accepted.

Mamma did not appear for dinner. She sent for Lizzie, her maid, to rub eau-de-Cologne on her forehead. Dr. Hunter had been invited to dine with us but he would first spend half an hour or so with Mamma discussing her symptoms before joining us.

sol. -h 193

Dr. Hunter had come to us only two years ago and seemed young to have the responsibility of our lives and deaths, but perhaps that was because we compared him with old Dr. Hedgling whose practice he had taken over. Dr. Hunter was in his early thirties; he was a bachelor and had a housekeeper who was supposed to look after his material comforts. He was, I fancied, over anxious for our good opinion, while being aware that we considered him a trifle inexperienced. He was an amusing young man and Mamma liked him, which was an important point.

Dinner was quite lively. The young doctor had an amusing way of describing a situation and Franklyn could cap his stories often in a coolly witty manner. I was rather glad that Mamma had decided to have dinner sent up on a tray, for with her constant repetitions of her symptoms she could be a little tiresome and she most certainly would indulge in the recital of them if the doctor were present.

H I think my father was pleased, too. He was always different when she was absent; it was almost as though he revelled in his freedom.

The doctor was talking of one or two of his patients, how old Betty EUery who was bedridden refused to see what she called ‘a bit of a boy’. “While confessing to my youth,” said the doctor, “I had to insist that my person was intact, and that I was whole and certainly not a bit of myself.”

“Poor Betty!” I said.

“She’s been in bed since I was a little girl. I remember going to her with blankets every Christmas, plus a chicken and plum pudding. When the carriage pulled up at her door and we alighted, she would cry out: ” Come in, madam, and you’re almost as welcome as the gifts you’ve brought. ” I used to sit solemnly in the chair beside her bed and listen to the stories she told of when Grandpapa Dorian was alive and Mamma used to go visiting with her Mamma.”

“The old customs remain,” said Pranklyn.

“And a good thing, too, don’t you agree, Franklyn?” asked my father.

Franklyn said that in some cases it was good to cling to the old customs; in others better to discard them. And so the conversation continued.

After dinner Lucie and the doctor sat talking earnestly while I chatted with Franklyn. I asked him what he thought of the people who had come that afternoon.

“The young lady of the scarf, you mean.”

“Both of them. They seemed unusual.”

“Did they?” Franklyn clearly did not think so and I could see that he had almost forgotten them. I felt faintly annoyed with him and turned to Lucie and the doctor. The doctor was talking about his housekeeper, Mrs. Devlin, whom he suspected of drinking more than sobriety demanded.

T hope,” said Lucie, ‘that you lock up your spirits.”

“My dear Miss Maryan, if I did I should lose the lady.”

“Would she be such a loss?”

“You clearly have no idea of the trials of a bachelor’s exis-tense when he is at the mercy of a couple of maids. Why, I should starve and my house would resemble a pigsty without the supervision of my Mrs. Devlin. I have to forgive her her love of strong drink for the sake of the comfort she brings into my life.”

I smiled at Franklyn. I wondered whether he was thinking the same as I was. Dear Lucie! She must be nearly thirty and if she were ever going to marry she should do it soon and what a good doctor’s wife she would make! I could picture her dealing with the patients, helping him along. It was an ideal situation, although we should lose her, and what should we do without her? But we must not, of course, be selfish.

This was Lucie’s chance; and if she married the doctor, she would be living close to me for the rest of her life.

I turned to Franklyn. I was about to whisper that I thought it would be wonderful if Lucie and Dr. Hunter made a match;

but one did not say things like that to Franklyn. He would think it bad taste to whisper of such a matter—or even talk of it openly—when it concerned only the two people involved. Oh dear, how tiresome he could be! And what a lot of fun he was missing in life!

I contrived it so that we talked in one group and Dr. Hunter told us some amusing stories of his life in hospital before he came to the district; and he was very entertaining. But he and Wakefield left soon after ten and we retired for the night.

When I went in to say goodnight to my mother she was wide awake.

There was a change in her.

She said: “Sit down, Minta, and talk to me for a while. I shall never sleep tonight.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“You know, Minta,” she said reproachfully, ‘that I never sleep well.

”

1 thought then that we were going to have an account of her sufferings, but this was not so. She went on quickly:

“I feel I must talk to you. There is so much I have never told you. I hope, my child, that your life will be happier than mine.”

When I thought of her life with an indulgent husband, a beautiful home, servants to attend to every whim, and freedom to do everything she wanted—or almost—I could not agree that she was in need of commiseration. But, as always with Mamma, I made a pretence of listening. I’m afraid that my attention often wandered and I would murmur a sympathetic ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘how terrible without really knowing what it was all about.

Then my attention was caught and held because she said:

“It was those people coming this afternoon that brought it all back.

The man came from Australia. That was where he went all those years ago. “

“Who, Mamma?”

“Charles. I wish you could have known Charles. There was no one quite like him ever.”

“And who was he?”

“How could you say who Charles was? He came here as a drawing-master, my drawing-master. But he was more than that. I remember the day he arrived. I was in the schoolroom then. I was sixteen—younger than you are now. He was a few years older. He came in looking bold and arrogant—not in the ‘least like a drawing-master and said: ” Are you Miss Dorian? I’ve come to teach you. ” And he taught me so much, Minta, so very much.”

“Mamma,” I said, ‘what made those people remind you of him? “

“Because they came from Australia and that was where he went—where they sent him. And that young man reminded me of him in a way. There was an air about him. Do you know what I mean? He didn’t care what people thought of him. He knew he was as good—no, better—than anyone. Do you know what I mean?”

Yes, I do. “

“It was cruel,” she went on.

“I hated your grandfather after that.

Charles was innocent. As if he cared about my jewels! He wanted me . not what I could bring him. I’m sure of that, Minta. “

She had changed. The peevish invalid bad disappeared. She

even looked beautiful as she must have been years ago. Jl knew there was something significant about that visit this afternoon and I was enormously interested.

“Tell me about it,” I begged.

“Oh, my dear Minta, it seems like yesterday. I wish I could describe Charles to you.”

“You were in love with him, I suppose.”

“Yes,” she said.

“And I have been all my life.”

I felt this was disloyal to my father and I protested.

“Isn’t that because he went out of your life when he was young and handsome and you’ve always seen him like that? If you could see him now you might have a terrible shock.”

“If I could see him now …” Her eyes were dreamy.

“That young man reminded me so much … it brought it all back. Those days when we were in the schoolroom; and then he said we must work out of doors. We would sit under the chestnut tree … where we were sitting this afternoon and he would sketch the flowers or a bird and I would have to copy it. Then we went for walks together, studying wild life and trying to put it on paper. He used to talk about Whiteladies as Lucie does. It’s strange how people are impressed by the house. He never tired of talking of it. And then we were in love and going to be married, and of course your grandfather would not allow it.”

“You were only about seventeen. Mamma. Perhaps you were carried away.”

“There are some things one can be sure of however young. I was sure of this. Once having known Charles, I was certain that no one else would ever mean to me what he did. He said we must not tell your grandfather, that he would forbid our marriage and something dreadful would happen, for your grandfather was a very powerful man. But he discovered what was going on. Someone must have told him, and Charles was dismissed. We planned to elope. My father was afraid of Charles for he knew he was no ordinary young man. I was guarded all the time but the notes were smuggled in and we made our arrangements. He climbed to my room on the night we were going away together. I gave him my jewellery to put in his pockets and keep for me while we climbed down.” Her lips began to tremble.

“We were betrayed. The jewellery was found on him and he was transported for seven years.

Your grandfather was a hard man and my heart was broken. “

“Poor Mamma, what a sad story! But would you have been

happy with him? “

“If you had ever known him you would understand. I could be happy with no one else. He thought that if we married, my father would forgive us in time. I was after all his only daughter. Our children would be his grandchildren. Charles used to say: ” Our children will play on the lawns of Whiteladies, never fear. ” But they sent him away and I never saw him again. I shall never, never forget.”

I understood then the reason for all those peevish years. She believed life had cheated her. Her love for this man she had chosen had turned into discontent with the husband who had been chosen for her. I should have been more tolerant towards her. I should try to be now.

“And at the back of my mind,” she went on, in an unusually revelatory manner, “I always thought there was something I should have done. I was my father’s only child. I could have threatened to run away, to kill myself—anything. I believe now that if I had, something would have been done. But I was afraid of your grandfather and I let them take him away without protest and five years later I married your father because that was what my father wished.”

“Well, Mamma,” I reminded her, “Papa is a very good man. And this drawing-master might not have been all you imagined him to be.”

“Life with him might not always have been easy, but it would have been wonderfully worth while. As it is …”

“You have a great deal to be thankful for. Mamma,” I reminded her again; and she smiled at me rather wanly.

“I was a little reconciled when you were born, Minta. But that was a long time after our marriage. I thought we should never have a child.

Perhaps if you had arrived earlier . and then of course your birth had such an effect on my health. “

She was her wan self again recalling the terrible period of gestation, the fearful ordeal of my arrival. I had heard it before and was not eager to do so again.

“And because those people came this afternoon you were reminded of the past,” I said quickly.

“I wish I knew what happened to him, Minta. To be sent away as a convict. That proud man!”

“I daresay he was ingenious enough to find a niche for himself.”

She smiled.

“That was a thought I consoled myself with.”

There was a knock on the door and Lizzie came in. Lizzie

was about a year or so older than my mother. She had been nurse to me and before that my mother’s maid. She treated me still as though I were a baby and was more familiar with my mother than any of the servants were. She had thick grey hair which was a riot of curls about her head; it was her only beauty but striking enough even now to make people look twice at her.

“You’re keeping your mother from her sleep. Miss Minta,” she said.

“I

thought she was tired out. “

“We’ve been talking,” I said.