Indiscretion (22 page)

‘Indeed, sir?’ responded Isabella politely. ‘Well, if the Ouse should ever burst its banks so disastrously that Wythorpe Manor actually floats out to sea, I shall know where to come for advice.’

‘I shall be honoured,’ Captain Brunton said punctiliously. Then the consciousness that he had made a very silly reply crept visibly over him, and he took refuge in a torrent of coughs so loud that Fanny’s spaniel began joining in for company.

‘Isabella is jesting at your expense, Cousin,’ Lady Milner said, with pained and distant disapproval.

‘Oh, all jests seem to be at someone’s expense, but usually they are just expressions of good humour,’ cried Caroline, intervening on behalf of Isabella, who looked as if she had been smacked. ‘I remember being in company with a gentleman who had a wooden leg: it was remarkable how every turn the conversation took ended with me making some remark about not having a leg to stand on, or about some tale having a lame conclusion, or
—’

‘Was the name of the gentleman Clarke?’ suddenly interrupted Lady Milner.

‘No.’

‘Oh
—
then that cannot have been the same gentleman I was thinking of. I knew a gentleman named Clarke who had a wooden leg, you see. I thought it must be the same.’

‘Unless there is a sort of Masonic society, by which all men with wooden legs must bear the same name, I cannot see how it could be,’ said Caroline, irritated
—
and, perhaps, imprudent: Lady Milner rewarded her with such a stare as she might have accorded an ex-servant suspected of purloining the spoons. Certainly Caroline felt that her wits had betrayed her into discourtesy. She flung about desperately
—
but found Stephen Milner coming to her rescue.

‘Augusta, you take everything much too seriously,’ he said with decision. ‘And to show I am quite even-handed, I may say that you do too, Bella. So does the whole world, come to that. Now one of the few things that
is
worth taking seriously is a good dinner, and my nose tells me ours is ready, and so I think we should go in.’

Lady Milner sprang up with surprising alacrity
—
for her wandlike figure by no means suggested the gourmand: but Caroline realized after a moment that it was only a hunger for importance that impelled her. She must be seen absolutely to take precedence here, and so glided her stiff-backed way to the dining-parlour before everyone else. Caroline rather thought that Mrs Hampson, as a bride, should have had first place in the company; but in any case, Lady Milner was put into difficulty by her own haste. Stephen Milner in his restless prowlings had fetched up closest to Caroline, and so he offered her his arm:
Dr Langland,
with many compliments and jests to Mr Hampson about stealing the lady away, took Mrs Hampson’s, while Mr Hampson, with many jests likewise
—
more perhaps than could be heard with entire patience
—
escorted Aunt Selina. Only now did it occur to Lady Milner that she was unaccompanied: she stopped, and turned to look for Captain Brunton. He was at that moment offering his arm to Isabella, but at his cousin’s significant look he paused: hesitated: coughed deeply; and appeared as if he might have remained helplessly fixed to that spot for ever more, had not Isabella settled the matter for him.

‘Sir, you are wanted, I think: please escort Lady Milner,’ she said coolly. ‘My sister will be glad to walk in with me
—
won’t you, Fanny?’

‘To be sure!’ cried Fanny, seizing her arm. ‘I have never understood why a woman must have a man to take her into dinner. Is male conversation supposed to be better for the digestion? Most of the men in this benighted neighbourhood can only talk of hunting and horseflesh, so that can hardly be the case.’

‘Probably because of our barbaric ancestors,’ her brother opined, ‘all hacking away at one roast boar, and devil take the hindmost. A man’s assistance would at least assure you of a decent thighbone to gnaw on.’

‘And yet, you know, women can be quite as grasping and overbearing as men,’ Isabella gently suggested.

‘Well, now,’ said Uncle John, all smiles, ‘isn’t this pleasant?’ Probably no one but the blissfully obtuse
Dr
Langland could have found it so, but it was certainly, Caroline thought, mightily interesting. She felt the moment had come for a direct attack on her partner’s defences; and so, as he was seating her at table, she quietly observed to Mr Milner: ‘Your cats are not settling in the basket.’

‘Eh?’ She had him off-guard: but he quickly recovered. ‘Oh, that.’ He chuckled reminiscently, then shrugged. ‘Hey, well, devil knows what’s to be done with them.’

‘Does it not occur to you that perhaps grown women are beings of a good deal more complexity than cats?’

Mr Milner gave this a perplexed attention, as to some outlandish though intriguing theory. ‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘cats can be very temperamental creatures too, you know. Bella had a pretty tortoiseshell once that was all good nature during the week, but spat and scratched on Sundays. We thought it must have been due to the sound of church bells. Will you take some wine, Miss Fortune?’ He presented to her a face of infuriating bland puzzlement. ‘What? Have you turned Methodist, perhaps, and take only water? I confess I find it hard to believe, but I’ll try my best
—’

‘Yes, I will have some wine, thank you, Mr Milner,’ she rapped at him, fighting down a smile, ‘and you will not divert me from my question.’

‘Does it not occur to
you,
Miss Fortune, that questioning a man you hardly know at his own dinner-table makes you a thoroughly forward little piece?’

‘Does it? Well, I’m progressing anyhow. At Bath you called me a bold little piece: “forward” is just slightly less insulting. And I did get to know you tolerably well there, sir.’

‘I see: and now you have added to your knowledge by talking about me with my family’

‘Oh, there are many other more interesting things to talk about, believe me
—
but you do come up, Mr Milner, from time to time.’

‘You come up
all
the time. Fanny has made you her touchstone in her perpetual war against the conventions; and I know what a favourite you are with Isabella already.’

‘She is a great favourite with me: I never knew anyone more amiable, more truly gentle-hearted, than your sister.’

‘Which you find surprising, having met me first.’

‘To adopt your own figure, sir, I am not surprised, I am astonished. But come: considering I am bold, forward, and
—
what was your other elegant expression? ah, yes
—
trouble
—’

‘You remember everything I say!’ Mr Milner said, in a tone that mixed wonderment with approval. ‘Do you write it all down
—
or just engrave it on your heart?’

‘Considering I am all these things,’ she went on, ignoring this, ‘you must confess I have not yet had the baleful influence on Wythorpe you predicted. For you see, here are no earthquakes or revolutions
—
not even, I would go so far as to say, any ruffled feathers.’

‘I am willing to concur with all you say, Miss Fortune, because of that one significant word in the middle of it: not
yet.
You have not been here long, after all.’

‘Long enough,’ she said, refusing to be provoked even by his satisfied smile of triumph, ‘to have grown greatly attached to Isabella, and to wish
—
well, to wish to help her: except that that does not lie in
my
power.’

‘Oh, I understand you,’ he said nodding, ‘indeed I do: but I fancy you overestimate the ability of a mere male to settle the inevitable differences of two women under one roof.

‘From what I see, they are eased, if not settled, simply by your presence under that roof. There, that is the first compliment I have paid you, and probably will be the last.’

‘No, it isn’t, it is a reproach,’ he said collectedly, helping her to soup, ‘and a just one as far as it goes. I certainly am disinclined to botheration, and follow the natural impulse to fly from it whenever I can. But the fact is
—’
he took care to lower his voice, though Lady Milner was at the other end of the long rosewood table
—
‘Father did leave us rather awkwardly placed by that unexpected decision of his autumn years, and there’s no denying it. No reflection on the persons involved: only the situation. I’m sure I need say no more
—
have probably said too much: I’ll only add that as you may imagine, it has confirmed my opinion of marriage as a fool’s game.’

He turned then, to do the duties of the tureen for Aunt Selina, who was on his left, leaving Caroline to ponder on what he said. She suffered a momentary misgiving: had she been meddlesome? But her eye falling on Isabella, who was presenting a face of civil attention to Captain Brunton, apparently becalmed in the midst of a very slow anecdote, she dismissed it. Friendship was a new sensation to her, and precious
—
a gift for which she wanted to make some recompense: she could not do much, but she could be Isabella’s advocate. Her glance turned next to Lady Milner, prompted perhaps by another misgiving, that her partiality for her friend made her unjust to the stepmother: but a moment’s reflection and observation convinced her it was not so. She felt no malice towards Lady Milner: indeed much in her conduct was thoroughly understandable. As she sat at the foot of the table, her inability to play the hostess was sadly conspicuous: for instead of gently marshalling the conversation, and making sure that everyone was comfortable, included, and well supplied, she could only dart her unquiet glances at every separate colloquy, as if suspecting she was talked about, or seek whisperingly to engross the attention of Captain Brunton on her left, the one person with whom she seemed at ease. In sum, she was uncomfortable in her position: but to sympathize with this was not to excuse its harmful effects.

Fortunately Lady Milner’s economies had not extended to the table. Plentifully came the haddock, the ham and tongue, the boiled fowls and batter-pudding and roasted saddle of mutton. Taken together with this lofty dining-parlour, with its shining sonorous boards, capacious fireplace, and monumental buffet, it afforded Caroline a glimpse of an old country style of entertaining, very different from what she was used to.

As if divining her thoughts, Mr Milner said: ‘Plain roast-and-boiled, you see, Miss Fortune. For my part I hanker after ragouts and fricassees sometimes, but our cook does not enjoy them, nor, as a rule, our guests. An unspoken suspicion hovers that sauces will turn you into a Frenchie.’

‘I own I am fond of a little spice, sir
—
though this is very fine fare, to be sure. Perhaps you could venture to serve macaroni: that at least has not the reproach of being French.’

‘With Bologna sausage, Parmesan-cheese, and garlic,’ he said dreamily. ‘Ah! And then my neighbours would have me taken away in a strait-waistcoat. So, how
are
you settling in? ‘As she hesitated he went on: ‘I realize that is a fiendishly difficult question. Take time to think it out. I could ask you the square root of two hundred and twenty-five in the meanwhile
—’

‘It is because it is a simple question, and it comes from
you,
that I mistrust it. You must mean something teasy and ironical.’

‘Must I? Probably I do, deep down: but let us pretend me capable of sincerity, and of recognizing that, troublesome as you surely are, you have lost a parent, been transplanted to a new world, and had to make a deal of adjustments, none of which can have been easy’

Now she was at a loss: it was delicately said, it seemed truly meant, and it was felt by her with a tenderness all the more plangent because it was unexpected, and which only self-command could keep from drawing a tear to her eye. So all she could do was reply honestly, and without defences: ‘I’m settling in very well, I thank you. Indeed it feels as if I have known you all for years.’

He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Why, that, Miss Fortune, is because you have already heard everything we have to say
—
have plumbed our country dullness to the depths
—
and have experienced a true Wythorpe evening, in which the hands of the clock do not seem to move at all, and a whole age drags by before they indicate blessed bedtime.’

‘I would call this unfair, if I thought you meant it, which surely shows that I am a loyal Wythorpe native already. As for dullness
—
well, you are not dull, Mr Milner, I will say that for you. Though I might say many other things, much less obliging.’

‘Pray,’ came Lady Milner’s carrying voice, ‘tell us what the jest is, Stephen, Miss Fortune
—
do not leave us out.’

‘Oh, I was shamefully abusing our quiet old neighbourhood, and Miss Fortune was defending it.’

‘I see. Ah, I see
—
and the joke is, it is Miss Fortune who is the outsider.’

‘Oh, newcomer, surely, rather than outsider,’ cried Isabella warmly. ‘That is what I meant, Isabella. Of course that is what I meant.’ ‘But what
can
you find to say in favour of this deadly place?’ demanded Fanny. ‘There
—
listen to that rain at the window. That has set in now, I warrant you, till next spring
—
with the interruption only of hail, ice, snow, and other delightful diversions. There is an
end of any walks or drives or picnics
—
though to be sure there are the winter assemblies and balls, which would be some consolation if there were more of them
—
but one miserable mustering a month is about all our dismal district affords. Oh, but I make an exception for you, my dear hospitable sir,’ she said, turning to Mr Hampson,
‘you
and Mrs Hampson have made a very appreciable difference to our entertainments, and I thank you for it
—
no, more, I vow I would have gone stark mad without it.’