“I received a visit from a friend of yours today,” he said to her, “a young man from the chaplain’s department, who called himself Yarrow.”
“He is not a particular friend of mine.”
“Indeed? He appeared to know a good deal about our family affairs.”
Pearl said nothing.
“Tell me, Pearl, is it your custom to discuss family matters with outsiders?”
“No, Father.”
“But you have discussed your home with this man Yarrow?”
Pearl’s first instinct was to lie. Before that dreadful, emancipating Wednesday night she would certainly have done so. But three days of bitterness had changed her.
“Yes, Father.”
“I see. And may I ask why you did so?”
“I must talk to someone occasionally.”
The Professor said no more, and his heart was very heavy. He did not suppose, of course, that Pearl had told Yarrow that he had beaten her with a stick, or that he had an incestuous passion for her. That was plainly the spiteful talk of the cabal which had so long been at work against him. But he knew that Pearl had shut him out of her life because of that night.
Sunday was a black, silent day in the Vambrace home.
SUNDAY WAS NOT MUCH BETTER for Solly than it was for Professor Vambrace. He was possessed by the seemingly contradictory convictions that Pearl was a wretched, inconsiderable, bungling creature who had introduced a last intolerable complication into his already complicated life, and by the feeling that he must talk to her as soon as possible. In his mind’s eye he could see her—dark, dowdy and withdrawn. Therefore it was with surprise that he encountered the reality in the music room in the Library on Monday morning; it was as though a picture, previously much out of focus, had been made clear to him.
“Ah—can I have a minute? I mean, I’ve simply got to talk to you. It’s desperately important.”
“I’m very busy.”
“I can’t help that. You must listen; it’s as much your business as mine.”
“Please go away.”
“I won’t go away. I’ve been chasing you for days. We’ve got to have a talk. How can we get out of this bloody mess if we don’t discuss it?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t think you are likely to find a way.”
“Oh, I know; you’re angry with me because I didn’t do anything the other night. Well, what could I do? How would it have been if I’d knocked your father down when he was cuffing you? Or called a policeman? Damn it, I’m sorry. I’d have done something if it could have made any difference or settled anything. But I couldn’t think of anything, so I got out of the way. Look: I’m terribly sorry. And don’t think I came here for fun. I’m not enjoying this a bit more than you.”
“That’s a very charming remark.”
“Well, how charming have you been, since I came? Can’t we behave like sensible creatures and talk this thing out? I hear your father is suing The Bellman.”
“Yes. What’s that to you? All you have to do is get up in the witness box and swear that you never had any intention of marrying me, and you will be as white as driven snow. The judge will probably offer you the pity of the court in your wronged condition.”
“Well if that isn’t the most nauseating feminine attitude I’ve ever heard! Do you suppose I want anything of the kind? I don’t want anything to do with a court action. Do you?”
“Oh don’t talk like a fool! Of course I don’t. How do you suppose it will make me look?”
“Well, then, why don’t you repudiate the action?”
“How?”
“Simple. You hire a lawyer. When the case comes up he gets on his feet and says, ‘Your Honour, my client, Miss Pearl Vambrace, wishes me to say that she does not consider herself libelled, and wants it understood that she has nothing to do with bringing this action, and that it’s all a pipedream of her father’s, who has got into a fantod about nothing very much.’ Or however lawyers phrase these things. It’d blow the case sky-high.”
Pearl gazed at Solly with reluctant admiration. She had been agonizing about her situation for several days, and had seen no ray of light. But here was a man who cut through the complications with easy brilliance.
“If it was known you were going to do that, I doubt if the case would ever come to court,” Solly went on. “It’d just be a waste of money. Do you know a lawyer?”
“My cousin Ronnie is a lawyer.”
“Fitzalan? No good. He’s old Snelgrove’s partner, and Snelgrove has been telling half the town, in strict confidence, that he is going to take the hide off The Bellman.”
“Well, and so he should. It’s libelled me. And you too.”
“Don’t be silly. If it’s libel to say I’m engaged to you, and if it’s libel to say you’re engaged to me, surely we are both such lepers that the two libels cancel out. It’s a mistake, a damn silly mistake, but still a mistake.”
Once again Pearl was dazzled by Solly’s grasp of the fundamentals of her problem. His law might be shaky, but his reasoning was sound.
“You mean you don’t care about that engagement notice appearing?”
“Of course I care. It can make a hell of a mess of things for me. But it isn’t the end of the world, you know.”
“You mean it would be awful for you if Griselda Webster came to hear of it?”
“Well, it certainly wouldn’t make things any simpler.”
“I’m sorry I was so nasty about Griselda and you the other night.”
“Forget about all that. You were upset, understandably. So was I. All that crawling about on the floor, and hitting me on the nose, and playing those blood-soaked games. Very unnerving.” Solly caught her eye, and Pearl smiled. And she was so surprised to find herself smiling after four bitter days that she laughed and he laughed with her. They were so delighted and relieved to be laughing that they did not notice that the door had opened, and that the Librarian, Dr. Forgie, stood beside them. A chronic sufferer from asthma, he spoke bubblingly, like a man under water.
“Well,” said he, looking up at them from his five foot three of scholarly obesity, “I have surprised you, I see. Now I really must protest, Bridgetower, against these, ah—tender assignations during Library hours. Miss Vambrace has her work to do, and I must beg you to confine your meetings to leisure time, which is ample—ample. We shall not quarrel about this single transgression of rules. Cupid plays strange tricks upon us all. Permit me to congratulate you both!” And here Dr. Forgie seized Solly’s hand and wrung it powerfully. He then reached up to Pearl’s shoulders and dragged her down to a level with his own face, and kissed her with a smack. “I must beg that there will be no repetition of this incident,” said he, and strutted out of the room.
“Unless you want to be kissed again by Dr. Forgie, we’d better part,” said Solly.
“How do you suppose he knew we were here?”
“His daughter Tessie told me where to find you. With many tender and insinuating sighs and glances, I may say. Cupid has a firm friend in Tessie. Then I suppose she regretted her kind action, and blatted to Pa.”
“How like Tessie. You must go.”
“When do I see you again?”
“Eh? What for?”
“We haven’t half settled things. I keep telling you that we must talk. Unless we have a united plan of action, this is going to be bad for both of us. Can I see you tonight?”
“I suppose so.”
“Where shall I call for you?”
“At home.”
“What? Won’t your father mind?”
“I haven’t any notion. Come about half-past eight. I’ll be watching for you. No—just blow your horn, will you?”
It was Solly’s turn to admire. Casually blown motor horns, he was sure, would not soothe the breast of Pearl’s father. And yet she did not seem to care. Clearly Pearl was a girl of greater spirit than he had supposed.
PUNCTUALLY at half-past four Ridley arrived at the home of his employer,
and as concisely as possible he reported to him the conversation which had passed between him and Gordon Balmer, The Bellman’s solicitor, earlier in the day.
“So he’s going to Pimples Buckle?” said Mr. Clerebold Warboys.
“Yes. I didn’t tell him that Weir went to Buckle last week; we know just as much about Buckle’s influence as he does. But it’s no good. Buckle knows nothing about the affair, and isn’t interested. He has his pride, you know. He says this isn’t crime—merely kid stuff—and he’s only interested in crime. He wouldn’t budge unless we would promise him a good deal of newspaper protection next time he comes into court, and of course we can’t do that.”
“So we’re still up in the air about X.”
“Yes. Worse than up in the air, I’m afraid. Snelgrove has nabbed X.”
“What!”
“I had a call from Balmer just as I was leaving the office. Snelgrove had called him not long before; they say they’ve got X, but of course they won’t tell us who it is. Balmer’s guess is that it is a woman. Anyhow, Snelgrove wanted us to meet him tomorrow, for a showdown, in his office. Balmer fought that, because he wanted the meeting to be in his office. But after a lot of wrangling I’ve arranged that the lawyers, and Vambrace, and X, should all meet in my office. We have to keep some sort of face.”
“Quite right. If we have to climb down and make terms, we’d better do it on our own ground.”
“You think we should climb down?”
“I don’t know. And I’m not going to be there. You must handle this. Let them think they have winkled me out of my house and down to the office, and they’ll imagine we are worried. Which, of course, we are. But we mustn’t show it. That’s why you must deal with it yourself.”
“Very well; if you think that best.”
“I do. Fight to the last ditch. We mustn’t climb down if we can possibly avoid it.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.”
“I certainly do feel that way. There is nothing lawyers like better than to score off a newspaper. In fact, you might say there is nothing most people like better than to score off a newspaper. And it’s understandable that they should feel that way. There have been times in my political life when I would have been glad to silence every newspaper in the country. Newspapers, as you very well know, can be damned nuisances.”
Ridley smiled. “There have been two or three times in my life when I would have done anything to keep something out of a paper,” said he; “anything, that is, except give the order for a story to be killed.”
“I know what you’re talking about,” said Clerebold Warboys. “But in spite of all the hogwash that is talked about the freedom of the Press, and in spite of the nauseating slop which the newspapers sometimes write about it, the freedom of the Press is a damned important thing. Not that this pin-prick has much to do with it. At worst it will cost us some money. But what I don’t like is being pushed around by people who hate the paper and want to make it look foolish. God knows we can make ourselves look silly enough, without any outside help. We’ve got a case of some sort. We are as much abused as Vambrace. So we’ll fight, just to show that a newspaper doesn’t have to look like a fool to please a few cranks. We’ll get Pettypiece to fight the case for us, if it goes to court. He’s forgotten more about newspapers and libel than old Snelgrove will ever know. We won’t climb down unless they can show that we have really been careless and haven’t a leg to stand on.”
“I’m afraid we have been careless,” said Ridley.
“It could happen to anybody. Anyway, they don’t know we’ve been careless yet. And they won’t, unless this comes to court. Don’t let this thing worry you, Ridley. A pin-prick.”
“I’m afraid it is a little more than a pin-prick for me, sir,” said Ridley. “This is not easy to explain, because it makes me look vain and probably a little foolish. You know I’ve done a great deal to arrange the new journalism course at Waverley. In fact, I might say that I’ve done all the real work. It’s meant a great deal of time for several months. There has never been any talk of reward, and I don’t want money. I can say quite honestly that I haven’t done it for money. But it has crossed my mind, once or twice, that I might be named for an honorary degree.”
Thus modestly he brought out the ambition which had been his constant, lively companion for many weeks.
“Well, what about it? Vambrace has no say in such things. He isn’t a Governor.”
“He is very close to several Governors.”
“Which ones?”
“This is rather embarrassing, but I think he carries a great deal of influence with your daughter-in-law.”
“With Nesta? Oh, I don’t think she sees much of him.”
“Mrs. Roger Warboys has been interesting herself in this matter to a greater degree than you apparently know. And you are aware that she has a poor opinion of me as an editor. She is a friend of Mrs. Bridgetower’s as well.”
“Well, God bless my soul! You think she’s out to sink you, for this honorary degree, or whatever it is?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”
“I have not mentioned it to you before because I do not expect you to do anything about it. I have too much pride to appeal to you in a thing of this kind.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Mr. Warboys who, like many people, had a keen sense of the triviality of ambition in others. “I couldn’t interfere, you know. Most of the Governors are friends of mine, but I couldn”t go hat in hand to them and ask them to do something for somebody who was working for me. They might take it amiss. But you can leave it to me to put Nesta straight. It would be a fine thing for you to have a doctorate. A very nice crown to your career. A good thing for The Bellman. But if it doesn’t work out, don’t worry. These things are pretty chancy. Anyhow, you don’t care much about it, do you?”
Ridley longed to say that he cared passionately about it. But life had not encouraged that sort of boldness in him, and he muttered something which suggested that he cared little for worldly gauds. Mr. Warboys was plainly relieved, and after a few further remarks, Ridley rose to go. As he was about to leave the room Mrs. Roger Warboys entered.
“There’s a taxi at the door,” said she to Ridley. “I thought, it must be yours. You always come and go in taxis; why don’t you get yourself a car?”
“I prefer taxis,” said he. “I find them much more convenient.”
“Not a bit convenient, really,” said Mrs. Warboys, contradicting absent-mindedly and without interest. Then something seemed to strike her, and she looked at Ridley keenly. “What news of Mrs. Ridley?” said she.
Ridley turned very white, and the bony structure of his brow stood out in stronger relief. But when he spoke it was quietly and with self-possession. “The news does not change very much, and never for the better, Mrs. Warboys,” said he, and hurried out of the room.
“You shouldn’t have asked him that, Nesta,” said Clerebold Warboys. “Anyhow, you’re not supposed to know.”
“Nobody’s supposed to know,” said his daughter-in-law, “but somehow everybody does.”
DRAWING UP OUTSIDE the Vambrace house at about half-past eight o’clock, Solly sounded his horn in a discreet, rather than a challenging blast. He did not wish to see Pearl come through the door pursued by an angry father. A light in an upper window went out at once, and immediately afterward Pearl came down the walk, perfectly self-possessed, and stepped into his car as though this were the most ordinary thing in the world. Solly could not refrain from admiring comment.
“You made it all right?”
“Of course. What did you expect?”
When he had hunted down Pearl that morning in the music room she had been too surprised to assume her new role of woman of the world, which she had not yet been able to make fully her own. Thinking about their conversation afterward, Pearl had decided that she had been too friendly; the truth was that she had been so amazed by the common s
ense which Solly had brought to their common predicament that she had been pleasanter than she intended; he had even made her laugh. But he had referred tactlessly to her father’s treatment of her; he had let her know, quite needlessly, that he had seen that cuff on the ear, had heard those sobs. Therefore she was determined to give him a double dose of the woman of the world tonight.
Solly was properly intimidated. He had thought, that morning, that Pearl would be easy to deal with; she had laughed with him, and he set great store by laughter. So he drove in silence along a country road until he came to a point where it ran directly beside the bay upon which Salterton faces, and there he brought the car to a stop.
There was a silence, which Solly and Pearl both found embarrassing, but after a very long time—perhaps two or three minutes—he broke it.
“Well?” said he.
“Well?” countered Pearl. She did not mean to be difficult, but she could not think of anything better to say.
“Well, here we are. The meeting is now open. Ladies first; what do you want to say?”
A woman of the world should always be able to say something, and Pearl felt herself to be at least as much a woman of the world as the Old Woman in Candide, so she plunged into speech.
“We must look at this reasonably,” said she. “There’s no use getting excited; there’s been quite enough of that. We’ve been reported engaged. We’re not engaged and aren’t going to be. We want the report contradicted. It isn’t really so dreadful. Of course Father thinks it is. He hates your family.”
“He doesn’t,” said Solly. “Only a couple of years ago when we were all working on The Tempest he was easy enough to get on with. And not so many years ago he and my Mother appeared together on some sort of public committee about some current affairs thing, and they got on like a house afire. What’s all this about hating my family? It’s a good fifteen years since my father nosed him out as Dean.”
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