Jalna: Books 1-4: The Building of Jalna / Morning at Jalna / Mary Wakefield / Young Renny (87 page)

She carried the flowers to the chancel and placed them reverently on the altar. She backed away a few steps and stood admiring them… Then she went and sat down before the organ. Her hands were cold and wet from being under the pump. She rubbed the palms on her skirt.

In another moment the music of Mendelsohn’s “Wedding March” filled the church.

I
N THESE WEEKS
the mind of Ernest Whiteoak had been greatly disturbed but until now he had been able to keep his anxiety to himself. He had lost money in Crystal Palace A shares. He had lost money in Breweries. He had lost money in Cotton. He had been fooled by a broker into buying shares on margin. More and more good money had been thrown away to retain his shares. He was indeed playing with capital that was not his. He was gambling on market changes and only had to put up a small proportion of the sum at stake. This had given his somewhat credulous nature a false feeling of power. He was even less fitted to gamble on the stock market than was Nicholas, but his earlier successes made him bold.

Now he bitterly regretted leaving England. His communications with his broker had of necessity been made by cable. He was positive that if he had been on the spot, he could have managed his affairs effectively.

The latest messages he had received had made him incapable of clear thought. His mind was too confused by his losses to be able to do more than reiterate, “If only I had been there!”

He had been so sure that not only was he going to augment
his fortune, as indeed for a time he had, but that he would double it. Now, with a sinking heart, he sought out his brother Nicholas.

Nicholas was sunning himself on the rustic seat, beneath a stately silver birch that grew in the centre of the lawn. Between his feet sat Jake, gazing up into his face with ecstasy, as Nicholas fondled his ears and gently tickled the back of his neck.

Ernest came swiftly across the grass and stood in front of his brother.

Nicholas looked up. Then he saw the expression on Ernest’s face and asked, “Anything wrong?”

Ernest gave a groan of affirmation. Then sat down on the bench beside him.

“Wrong! It could scarcely be worse. New Gaston Mining stock has fallen from 3 1/8 to 1/2.”

“Ha! What can you do about it?”

“Nothing. South Eastern Railway has declined.”

Nicholas turned his large eyes sympathetically on his brother.

“Hard luck,” he muttered.

“If only I’d been in England, I’d have got out of it in time.”

“I wonder. I didn’t, you know.”

“Nick, you haven’t the flair for speculation that I have. Oh, if only I had been there!” He sprang to his feet and began pacing up and down.

“There is one thing certain,” said Nicholas. “We shall have to draw in our horns when we go back to London.”

“Nick, when I have sifted the dregs of this catastrophe, I think I shall find myself a poor man.”

“Surely it isn’t as bad as that.”

“Nick, I shall have to spend more time at Jalna.”

“Yes. There’s always Jalna.”

“Oh, if only I were in England now!”

“You couldn’t have done anything, old man.”

“Curse that broker.”

“Only a few weeks ago you seemed quite pleased with him — and yourself.”

“I was. I thought I was going to do more than make up for my earlier losses.”

“I told you more than once that you depended too much on him.”

“No one could have depended more on a broker than you did on yours.”

“I don’t pretend to be knowing about investments.”

“Neither do I. I don’t
pretend
, but I am very cognizant of what goes on in the market. My broker told me it was quite remarkable — I mean my grasp of it all. Oh, I wish I were in London!”

“Why not go?”

“It’s too late, I tell you. Unless, of course, I had more capital. I wonder if Mamma —”

“Never. She’d never lend you a penny.”

“She might if I promised to double it for her.”

“You’re more optimistic than I am.”

“Perhaps Philip…”

“You can try him but I doubt it.”

“There he is now. He’s been fishing. It’s a propitious moment.”

Philip, seeing them, turned in their direction. He had on a disreputable old jacket, a pair of baggy duck trouser, and he needed a hair-cut. For once, the immaculate Ernest did not notice these details of his brother’s costume.

“Hullo, Philip,” he greeted him genially. “Had any luck?” Philip held up his fishing basket, in which lay eight gleaming trout.

“Oh, very nice. Quite a change from the last time when you didn’t get even a bite.”

“Enjoyed it just the same,” said Philip, laconically.

“Still, it was not like having a nice little catch like this.”

“N — no. But I enjoyed it. A lovely morning, that was.”

“Autumn is coming.”

“Yes. Look at this birch tree. I like its little yellow leaves. They’re the first to turn.”

Nicholas leant forward to look at the fish. “Good ones,” he said. “I shall have one for my breakfast.”

“Sit down, Philip,” said Ernest. “I want to tell you something.”

They made room for him on the rustic seat. He sat down and lighted his pipe. Jake, with an apologetic leer at Nicholas, moved from between his knees to between Philip’s. Philip looked enquiringly and a little defensively at Ernest.

Ernest came straight to the point. “I’ve had bad news,” he said. “Stocks I’ve been holding on to have fallen. I’m going to lose quite a lot of money, I’m afraid.”

“What a surprise,” said Philip. “I thought you were getting rich.”

“So I was! And so I should yet, if I had more capital. I’ll explain the whole matter.”

He embarked on a long explanation of the state of his affairs, and if at times he grew a little confusion, it did not really matter.

“It’s all Greek to me,” said Philip. “What do you want me to do?”

Ernest’s self-esteem was returning. “If you could make me a loan,” he said, “it would save the day.”

“How?”

“Well, these stocks are bound to revive. I could hang on till they do.”

“I never like the idea of gambling in stocks.” Philip opened Jake’s mouth and looked with concentrated interest at his teeth.

“You can’t call this gambling, Philip. These investments are sound. There’ll be little risk. Don’t you agree, Nicholas?”

“I won’t commit myself.”

“Well, as my broker has often remarked, I have a remarkable flair —”

“What’s all this?” asked a strong voice. The three rose and discovered Adeline close behind them. She placed her hands on the back of the seat and looked quizzically from face to face.

How much had she overheard, Ernest wondered. But, whether it were much or little she was bound to find out all. He could not keep anything away from her and he knew it.

“Come and sit down, old girl,” said Nicholas. He went to her and put his arm about her. He led her to a seat, gently smacking her on the hip with the flat of his hand.

A harsh note came into her voice as she spoke.

“You’ve lent Ernest money before this, Philip,” she said. “Don’t you do it again. I won’t have it.”

“Then,” exclaimed Ernest hotly, “you would have me lose my investment, for lack of a little more capital!”

“I had rather you lost it than to cripple Jalna. If Philip were anyone else, I’d say go ahead.”

“Perhaps then you yourself would be willing,” said Ernest eagerly.

“I am a poor woman,” she returned, looking gloomily at her shoes. “I have little enough to live on.”

“Poor old girl,” said Nicholas.

“Then,” said Philip, wanting to hear her confirm her opposition, “you advise me not to go into this?”

“I don’t advise. I say I won’t have it.”

Nicholas winked at Philip.

Adeline laid her hand on Ernest’s knee, who had sat down beside her. “Come,” she said. “Take this loss like a man. I heard all your explanation and I’m sure this is a bad case. Be thankful you have something left and don’t throw good money after bad. I hope Robert Vaughan has not invested in these things.”

“I’m afraid he has,” answered Ernest. “But, by no means disasterously.”

Adeline groaned, then exclaimed vivaciously, “I’ll tell you what, you, Ernest, must marry Muriel Craig! She will inherit a considerable fortune. You needn’t worry any longer.”

“Miss Craig cares nothing for me,” said Ernest, crossly. “It’s Philip she is after.”

“Then you should make her care for you,” said Adeline. “What is your feeling toward her?”

Ernest put the tips of his fingers together and said judiciously, “A kind of tepid admiration.”

“You couldn’t have a better beginning, with your temperament. You will warm to her as time goes on.”

“I repeat it is Philip she wants.”

“Well, here she comes like Paris with the golden apple and here are the three of you waiting! Let her make her choice.”

From the thick evergreens that fringed the drive Muriel Craig’s trap emerged, drawn by a pretty chestnut cob. She sat very straight, holding the reins high, the small elegant whip in one hand. She looked self-conscious, rather than confident. The three brothers went quickly toward her. Adeline looking after them thought, “If she chooses by distinction, it’s Nicholas — if by elegance, it’s Ernest — if she prefers an untidy rapscallion, as she probably does, it’s Philip.”

She greeted Muriel Craig warmly, giving at the same time an appraising look at her, out of narrowed dark eyes.

“How fresh you look, my dear, and what a pretty striped shirt-waist!”

“I’m glad you like it. My father thinks the strip rather loud.”

“Not a bit of it. If anyone can wear that stripe you can. What do you say, Ernest?”

“I say she can wear it,” he returned, tepidly.

“Mr. Ernest does not sound very enthusiastic,” said Muriel Craig. “I’m afraid he also considers it too loud.” She turned to Philip. “What do you think, Mr. Philip?”

“I always like stripes. Like ’em loud, too.”

Nicholas thought, “The girl is positively languishing for Philip. Ernest has no chance whatever.”

The children ran out of the house shouting, their lessons over, free for the rest of the day. They began to pull handfuls of grass for Miss Craig’s cob.

“Oh, the sweet children!” she exclaimed. “I must go to see them.” She sprang up and swept across the grass. A straight line might have been drawn from her chin to her instep…

“Children!” she called. “I have brought you candy!”

From the seat of the trap she took a small box of butterscotch. They were delighted. Meg thrust a square of it into her mouth, and mumbled her thanks.

“You should have passed it round first, you greedy girl,” said Renny.

Her cheek distended, her teeth glued together, Meg proffered it to her elders.
Philip had got to his feet and made as though to join Miss Craig.

Adeline gave him the dark look she had for him nowadays.

“Don’t go,” she said. “Leave that to Ernest.”

Ernest roe. He refused butterscotch but Adeline took a piece with eagerness. “A very small box,” she commented in an undertone to Nicholas. “I hope the girl isn’t mean.”

Philip watched Ernest’s progress with amusement.

“An ardent suitor, what!” he remarked.

“That fellow,” said Nicholas, “will never reach the point of proposing to any girl.”

“Ernest has plenty of character,” said his mother. “Give him time.”

Ernest had reached Miss Craig’s side. He smiled pleasantly and said, “How is your father, Miss Craig?”

“Improving every day. He is beginning to walk again. He has a most efficient nurse who seldom leaves his side.”

“How very satisfactory.”

“Yes. But she really is a detestable woman.”

“How annoying.”

“But, I hear that all nurses become overbearing.”

“I shouldn’t wonder.” After a silence he asked:

“Would you care to see our dahlias? They’re very fine.”

She hesitated. “I’m afraid I should be going. My father…”

“The dahlias really are especially good.”

Her eyes wandered to the group on the lawn.

Ernest thought, “I was never meant for this. A fortune-hunter! It’s humiliating.” Then the remembrance of Mr. Craig’s wealth stood out as promising deliverance from his financial worries, and she was a personable girl — an attractive girl. He wondered at his own coldness.

Mary came out to the porch where its drapery of Virginia creeper was just beginning to redden. Soon the frosts would set it flaming and turn the dahlias black.

“Ernest is taking Miss Craig to see the dahlias,” observed Nicholas. “That looks promising.”

“There’s Miss Wakefield!” cried Renny. “May I take her a piece of butterscotch?”

“Not just one piece,” said Adeline. “Offer her the box. Then ask her if she will be kind enough to go the Rectory and ask Mrs. Pink for the recipe she promised me. You children had better go with her. Come first and kiss me.”

He clambered on her knee, hugged and kissed her.

Philip rose. He extracted a piece of butterscotch from between Jake’s jaws which was causing him acute misery and threw it in the shrubbery. Jake at once set out on an intensive search for it.

“Don’t go, Philip,” said Adeline, more kindly than she had spoken to him since the night of the party. “I’ve scarcely set eyes on you today.”

“I’ll be back before long, Mamma,” he said, stubbornly. “Nick will be with you.”

He went toward the porch.

“Look at the shape of his trousers!” exclaimed Adeline. “The set of his jacket! I can’t imagine what any girl sees in him. Think of your father’s back — the way he wore his clothes! The contrast is terrible. I wonder Philip can be my husband’s son.”

“Don’t worry about him, Mamma. All the girls are after him.”

“Ah, if only I could get that governess out of the house! And do it I will, by hook or by crook.”

Philip stood looking up at Mary.

“Did you get my mother’s message, Miss Wakefield?” he asked. For the first time he noticed how she’d gone off in her looks.

“Yes. I’m setting out now.”

“We want to go too,” immediately came from Renny.

“I don’t think he should,” Mary said. “He runs so much on the way and gets hot and it makes his hives itch.”