A Family and a Fortune (5 page)

Dudley drafted and dictated the letter, and Edgar wrote it and submitted it for his inspection, and then suggested a game of chess. When Justine came for the letter, the brothers were sitting silent over the board. They played chess often, Dudley playing the better, but Edgar playing for the sake of the game, careless and almost unconscious of success. Justine tiptoed from the room, mutely kissing her hand towards the table.

‘Is this a house or a hutch? It is meant, I suppose, for human habitation,' said Blanche's father, walking about his new home. ‘It is well that I shall soon be gone and leave you alone in it. For it is better for one than for two, as I cannot but see.'

‘Come, Father, pluck up heart. You are an able-bodied man and not a crippled woman. I must not be given any
more to bear. You must remember your poor invalid, though I never remind you that I am that.'

‘If that was not a reminder, I need not take it as one. I grant that that fall made a poor thing of you, but you want a chair to sit upon, all the more. And I don't see where we are to put one, on a first sight.'

‘There are plenty of chairs, Father. Let us sit down in two of them. Come, I think they have done their best. It only needed a little best for such a little home, but such as it had to be, I think it is done. And we must be as grateful as they will expect us to be.' Blanche's sister put back her head and went into mirth. ‘This room is quite a pretty little place. So we must try to feel at home in it. We are not people to fail in courage.'

Matilda Seaton was two years older than Blanche, of the same height as her sister, but of the suppler, stronger build of her niece, Justine. She had hair less grey than her sister's, a darker skin less lined, and the same narrow, dark eyes looking out with a sharper, deeper gaze. A fall from a horse had rendered her an invalid, or rather obliged her to walk with a stick, but her energy seemed to accumulate, and to work itself out at the cost of some havoc within her. Her voice was deeper than her sister's and had some sweeter tones. She appeared handsomer, though she also looked her age and her features were of the same mould. Her father admired her the more, and believed her maidenhood to be due to her invalid state, though her accident had not happened until she was middle-aged. It had done him a service in a way, as he had been at a loss to account for the position. The truth was that Matty had had many chances to marry and had not accepted them. She had never met a man whom she saw as her equal, as her conception of herself was above any human standard. She may also have had some feeling that a family would take her attention and that of others from herself. The idea that anyone could pity her found no place in her mind; there was no place there for such a feeling. Even her lameness she saw as giving a touch of tragic interest to an already remarkable impression. Oliver knew of her efforts, or rather had been told of them,
as his daughter kept nothing which seemed to exalt her to herself, but he thought it normal self-respect in a woman to invent proposals if they were not forthcoming. Matty did not guess that she had not justice from her father, as he thought it wise to keep his doubt to himself, indeed knew it was. The father and daughter were less alike than they had been, for Oliver's face, once the original type, was fallen and shrunk from age. His figure was of the same size for a man as his elder daughter's for a woman, and had a touch of the awkwardness of the younger's which was something apart from the stiffness of the old. When he was seen with Blanche and her youngest son, this lack of balance became a family trait. His wife had been some years his senior and had herself lived to an advanced age, and at her death he had been old enough to accept his daughter in her place.

‘Yes, I am sure they have done what they can,' said Matty, still looking round, ‘It is a funny little pattern on the paper. Suitable for the funny little room, I suppose. We are not to forget how we are placed. They thought it was better for us to take the plunge at once. Well, I daresay they are right. We will try to think they are. That is a lesson we shall have to learn.'

‘You seem to be failing at the moment,' said Oliver, as Matty wiped her eyes. ‘I can't see that the scrawl on the paper makes much odds. And the room seems to hold two people, which is what we want of it. What are you crying about? Aren't you thankful to have a home?'

‘I am not so very at the moment. I can't help thinking of the one we have left. Perhaps it shows the feeling I had for that,' said Matty, putting her handkerchief away with a courageously final movement. ‘I shall soon be able to be myself, but it is rather a sudden difference, the little paper and all.' She put her hand to her mouth in her sudden laughter. ‘Well, shall we say that we appreciated our old home so much? I think we may say that without being unthankful.'

Oliver was silent. He had suffered from leaving his home as well as his daughter, almost feeling that he left his youth and his prime and his married life behind in it, but the
lessening grasp of his age had saved him the worst. He had lived all his life on private means, and his capital had dwindled, partly in the natural course - his investments suffering from age like himself, and even in some cases succumbing like his wife - and partly because he had annually spent a portion of it. The eventual result struck him as a sudden misfortune, and his daughter faced their retrenchment in this spirit.

‘Is that commotion to continue?' he said, as sounds of adjusting furniture came from the hall. ‘No one would guess that we left our possessions behind. I should not have thought that the place was large enough to allow of it.'

‘We must have a few necessities even in a little home. But there is less to be done than if we were to have what we have always had. That is one bright side to it.'

‘And you see it, do you? When did you get your glimpse?'

‘Things will soon be done, and you can have your dinner,' said Matty, retaliating on her father by explaining his mood. ‘Miss Griffin will come and tell us.'

‘You will eat as well as I, I suppose, and so will she. Will she be able to put up with the corner in which she finds herself?'

‘It is the only home we can give her. We have to be content with it.'

‘I meant what I said, her corner of it,' said Oliver, with a grin which recalled his youngest grandson. ‘I still mean what I say.'

‘We cannot help having had to leave our house for this one. It is not a pleasure for us.'

‘No, my dear, you give no sign that it is. I grant it to you. Well, Miss Griffin is a good woman not to leave us. She has indeed been a remarkable person not to do that. I cannot say what she gets out of serving us.'

‘Of course you can. It is quite clear. We give her a home when she has no other.'

‘Sell it to her for herself, I should say. I would not congratulate her on her bargain.'

‘It is better to stay with people who are fond of her, than to start again with strangers.'

‘Strangers would treat her as a stranger. That was rather in my mind. And fond of her! You may be that; I am myself. But I shouldn't be proud of your way of showing it. Indeed I am not proud of it.'

‘It would take her a long time to get to the same stage with another family.'

‘Why, that is what I meant; this stage could not come at once. But I suppose women understand each other. I can only hope it. I don't see what I can do more. But it doesn't seem enough to keep a human being at my beck and call.'

‘They have not come down to see us,' said Matty, glancing at the time. ‘They have not run across from their big house to see how we are faring on our first evening in our small one. Well, I suppose they have many other claims: we must think they have.' She looked again at the clock and tapped her knee with her hand, making a simultaneous movement with her foot, as if she would have tapped the ground if she had been able.

‘Well, I cannot tell. But we have not been in the house above two hours.'

‘They are long hours when you have to sit still and hear other people about and doing, and feel how much better you could do it all, if you were as they are. They have been long ones.'

‘Why, so they have, child, for me as well as for you.'

‘Well, we must be still and go on a little longer.'

‘Why, so we must, and for how much longer we cannot say. But it will not help us for you to cry about it. And what is your reason? You have a home and a bed and a woman to wait on you, haven't you?'

‘Yes, I have, and I am going to feel it. I have more than many people. But it did seem to me for a moment that people who have more still - and we must say much more -might spare a thought for us in our first isolation. It was just for the moment.'

‘Then it doesn't seem to you so any longer.'

‘No, it must not,' said Matty, again concealing her handkerchief. ‘There shall be nothing in our minds but bright and thankful thoughts.'

‘Well, that will make a difference. And here is someone in the hall. So if you want to hide your handkerchief, find a place that serves your purpose. It is well that you are what you say in time.'

‘Well, Matty dear, well, Father dear!' said Blanche's voice, the unconscious order of the names telling its tale. ‘Well, here is a red-letter day for us all!'

‘Red-letter day, when we have left our home and all we have, behind!' said Matty in a rapid aside to her father, pressing her handkerchief to her face in another spirit.

Blanche entered with outstretched arms and stumbled slightly over nothing apparent, as she hurried forward.

‘Well, how do you like coming here amongst us? We like to have you so much. How are you both after your journey? I could not wait another minute to come and see.'

Blanche gave her father and sister a long embrace, stooping to the latter, at she remained in her seat, and then stood back to receive her response.

‘Well, how do you feel about coming to share our life?' she said, as something more was needed to produce it.

‘We shall be happy in it, dear. We shall,' promised Matty, rapidly using her handkerchief and hiding it. ‘We see that now. We did not feel quite amongst you until this moment. But we do now indeed.' She took her sister's hand and lifted it to her face, as Blanche often did her daughter's.

‘Sit down, my dear, sit down,' said Oliver. ‘You give us a welcome and we do the same for you. I think there is a chair; I think there is room for three.'

‘Of course there is. It is a very nice little room,' said Blanche, sitting down and looking round. ‘How do you like the little paper? Don't you think it is just the thing? It is the one the boys have in their study.'

‘Yes, dear, is it? Yes, it would be nice for that,' said Matty, following her sister's eyes. ‘Just the thing, as you say. For this room in my house, and for a little, odd room in yours. It is the suitable choice.'

‘Don't you like it in this room, dear?' said Blanche, evidently accustomed to answering her sister's meaning rather than her words.

‘Yes, yes, I do. It is best to realize that we are in a little room, and not in a big one any longer. Best to leap the gulf and have a paper like the one in the boys' study.' Matty began to laugh but checked herself at once. Tar better not to try to make it like the room at home, as we might have done by ourselves. We might have tried and failed, and it is so much wiser not to do that. Yes, it was best for people to deal with it who saw it from outside and not from within. And it was so good of you do it for us, and it is kindly and wisely done.'

‘I thought you would like it so much; I did not know that you would want it like the drawing-room at home. That was so much larger that I thought it would be better to start afresh.'

‘So it was, dear; that is what I said.'

‘No, you said other things, child,' said Oliver.

‘That is what we are doing, starting afresh, and finding rather a task at the moment,' said Matty, not looking at her father. ‘But we shall manage it. It is only hard at first, and we can't help it that you find us in the first stage.' She touched her eyes and this time retained the handkerchief.

‘Keep it, my dear,' said Oliver, offering her another. ‘It is more convenient to you at hand.'

Matty held up the handkerchief to her sister with a smile for its size, and went on as if she had not paused.

‘We shall make a success of it, as you have done with the room.'

‘The room serves its purpose, my dear,' said Oliver to Blanche. ‘The paper covers the walls and the plaster would not look as well without it, and what more should be done? You have managed well for us, and so we should tell you, and I do so for us both.'

‘Yes, if we have seemed ungrateful, we are not,' said Matty, not explaining the impression. ‘We both thank you from our hearts. So Edgar did not come with you to see us?'

‘He came with me to the door and left me. He thought we should like our first meeting by ourselves.'

‘He is always so thoughtful, and we have liked it indeed.
And we shall like one with him as well the next time he is at our door. We have come to a place where we hope there will be so many meetings.'

‘Blanche is enough for us,' said Oliver. ‘We do not want her man. Why not say that you want the whole family? You almost did say it.'

‘Well, I did have a thought that they might all come running down to greet the old aunt on her first night. I had almost imagined myself the centre of a family circle.'

‘You imagined yourself the centre! So that is what is wrong. No wonder you wanted a room like the one at home. I don't know where you would have put them.'

‘They could have got in quite well,' said Blanche. No doubt they will often do so. But tonight we thought you would want to be spared.' She paused and seemed to yield to another impulse. ‘I am glad that you are so little depressed by the good-bye to the old home. We thought you might be rather upset by it.' Her way of speaking with a sting seemed an echo of her sister's in a lighter medium.