The innocent Mrs Duff

by Elisabeth Sanxay Holding

  “Where’s Jay?” he asked.

  “Miss Castle sent him to bed early, because he was rude to you at breakfast.”

  They went up the stairs together, and, without a word, separated, going to their separate rooms. If she was human. Duff thought, if she was a woman, shed ask me to come back to her. But she never says one word. Good God, what is she?

  There was nearly an hour to fill before dinner. Duff washed, and went quickly downstairs. He was pleased to find Miss Castle in the sitting-room, and he thought she was pleased to see him. She-looked very nice, he thought, in a long-sleeved white blouse, her hair so neat. A handsome woman; a real woman.

  “I thought a cocktail wouldn’t come amiss,” he said. “Will you join me, Miss Castle?”

  “Oh, thank you!” she said.

  He rang for Mary, and told her to bring ice cubes, gin, French vermouth, and bitters.

  “And be as quick as you can,” he said.

  That needed explaining to Miss Castle.

  “When I do take a cocktail,” he said, “I like it fifteen or twenty minutes before dinner. Not right on top of the meal.”

  “I’m sure that’s more artistic,” she said. “Do you know, when I left England, six years ago, I’d never had a cocktail? Sherry, sometimes, before dinner, and once in a great while, a brandy afterward.”

  “If you’d rather have sherry—?”

  “Oh, thank you, but I quite enjoy a cocktail now and then. If one’s at all depressed or out of sorts…”

  He did not like to think of Miss Castle being depressed; he wanted her to be serene and happy under his roof.

  “I hope Jay doesn’t give you too much trouble,” he said.

  “Oh, no! He’s a very interesting child. But there is one thing… I don’t think Nolan is a good influence, Mr. Duff.”

  “Nolan?” he said, startled. “Does the boy see much of Nolan?”

  “He’s always running off to the garage. He’s quite devoted to Nolan. Of course, it’s easy to understand. Nolan tells him these stories of his life in the Marines.”

  “I didn’t know he’d been a Marine.”

  “Oh, yes! He was two years in the Pacific islands.”

  The clock on the mantel struck half past six; Duff frowned and rang again for the housemaid.

  “What’s your opinion of Nolan, Miss Castle?” he asked.

  “Not very high, I’m afraid.”

  “I’d like very much to know just why.”

  “It’s difficult to put these things into words…” she said. “I don’t think Nolan is—trustworthy.”

  “Have you had any trouble with him? Has he been impertinent to you?”

  “Oh, no, never!” she said. “I shouldn’t quite call Nolan impertinent. It’s simply that he’s so—” She hesitated. “So extremely independent,” she said. “Or perhaps cynical would be a better word.”

  “Have you forbidden Jay to go to the garage?”

  “No,” she said.

  He rang the bell in the wall again, kept his finger on it.

  “I’d like to know why not,” he said.

  “I have the greatest admiration for Mrs. Duffs ideas,” she said. “She’s truly, sincerely democratic. I wish I’d been brought up with a little more of that, myself. I think that spirit is increasing at home, in England. And really it’s not because Nolan’s a chauffeur that I object to him. It’s because of his—character.”

  “And Mrs. Duff stands up for him?”

  “I shouldn’t put it quite that way,” she said. “It’s simply that Mrs. Duff is so very honest—”

  The housemaid came in now with the tray.

  “You’ve forgotten the bitters,” said Duff. “Hurry up with it, will you?”

  “I didn’t see any bitters, sir. I read the names on all the bottles—”

  “Let me get it!” said Miss Castle, rising.

  “No, no!” said Duff. “Sit down. Miss Castle. You come with me, Mary, and I’ll show you…”

  He got the bottle from the pantry, and when he returned to the sitting-room, Reggie was there.

  He remembered that when he had first seen her the thing that had most charmed him had been her look of exquisite cleanliness. Flower-like, he had called it. Very well; she was flower-like now, in a black-and-white checked evening dress with a long skirt and a prim little bodice buttoned up to the neck, her black hair soft about her pale, clear face; her blue eyes brilliant.

  But it failed to charm him now. He knew how it would be to take her in his arms. She would nestle against him, feeling boneless; there would be a faint scent of talcum powder about her; she would be pleased with his love-making, as a kitten may be pleased at being picked up. And, like a kitten, she was happy when let alone.

  Does she let Nolan make love to her, in that same way? he thought.

  He mixed the cocktails and poured out two; none for Reggie. “I’ve never had a drink in my life,” she had told him in the beginning, “and I guess I never will. I’ve seen too much of it, right in my own family.” She had told him a tale about an Uncle Vincent, who had begun to drink and had ruined himself. It was just the saddest thing, she had said.

  “Dinner is served, madam,” said the maid.

  “Can you put it back ten minutes, Reggie?” Duff asked. “We’d like to finish our drinks in peace.”

  “Oh, yes!” said Reggie. “Mary, will you tell Ellen, please?”

  But the drink was spoilt now; there was none of that pleasant feeling of relaxation.

  “There’s a dividend here for you, Miss Castle.”

  “Oh, no, thanks! One is just right for me.”

  So he had to finish up what was in the shaker, and much too quickly.

  “Well, is it all right to have dinner now, Jake?” Reggie asked.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  He had no appetite at all. But that’s all to the good, he thought, with this new diet. Reggie and Miss Castle went past him into the dining-room and he followed them.

  “What do you think of them, Jake?” Reggie asked. “The new chairs?”

  He thought they were terrible: a sort of bogus Windsor style, with cane seats and cane insets in the backs.

  “Very nice,” he said.

  He drew back her chair for her; Miss Castle was already seated, and he went to his end of the table. The new chair was not only ugly but uncomfortable; the seat was too narrow, the arms constricting. He did not like the soup set before him.

  “It’s a meatless day,” Reggie said, “but we’ve got some nice creamed sweetbreads—”

  “Not for me, thanks,” he said. “I’m on a diet. I told you so, this morning.”

  “Well, what can you eat?” she asked, anxiously. “Scrambled eggs, Jake? Or—”

  The cane seat of the chair gave way. As he seized the arms and tried to rise, he fell over sideways, caught in the chair. Reggie came running to him.

  “Oh, Jake!” she cried. “Oh, gosh! Are you hurt? Oh, Jake, I’m terribly sorry!”

  Now he hated Reggie.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “I don’t want anything more.”

  “But, Jake, you haven’t eaten a thing—!”

  “Nothing more, thank you. I’ve brought home some work to do. Good-night, Reggie. Good-night, Miss Castle.”

  He went off to that study, a ridiculous room, and locked the door. He took up Uncle Fred’s book, but his hands shook so that he could not hold it. He had a bottle of whiskey in a drawer of the desk; he brought it out and poured himself a drink.

  All right! All right! he told himself. I’m going to put the whole thing out of my mind. It’s nothing.

  Only, Miss Castle had seen him. Very well. She wouldn’t think anything of it. A little—contretemps. Could happen to anyone. It’s nothing. Simply, if you’re a little overweight, you’re—sensitive about a thing like that.

  Damn those chairs! It takes Reggie to buy such flimsy, tawdry stuff. Damn. All right! Damn Reggie. Everything’s finished between us, as far as I’m concer
ned. Even Aunt Lou could see that now, if she were here. I’ve got to get out.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Yes?” he said.

  “It’s me, Jake.”

  “I’m very busy just now, Reggie.”

  “Just a minute, Jake! Please!”

  He put away the bottle, and hid the glass under the desk, and unlocked the door.

  “Jake, I’m so terribly sorry about what happened.”

  “It’s nothing. Absolutely nothing, my dear girl.”

  “Jake, I’m so sorry. I guess those chairs just weren’t any good.”

  “It’s nothing. Let’s not talk about it.”

  “Jake, could I sit in here with you for a while, and just read?”

  “Thanks, but I have some rather important business papers.”

  “Could I type for you, Jake?”

  “No, thanks. No typing to be done.”

  “Jake…” She laid her hand on his arm. “I just hate for us to get like this.”

  Then do something about it! he cried in his heart. Do something to stir me, to make me care again. Don’t stand there-like a damn flower…

  “Haven’t you been feeling so well lately, Jake?”

  “Never better,” he said.

  “I’ve been worried about you, Jake.”

  “And why?”

  “Well, you hardly eat a thing, Jake.” She paused. “I was talking to Aunt Lou today, Jake. About when you were a little boy. She said you always were terribly hard to—amuse. She said you always got bored so easily.” She paused again. “I thought maybe you were sort of bored now, Jake,” she said.

  “Oh, certainly not!” he said, with bleak politeness.

  “Because if you are, Jake, couldn’t we do something about it?”

  We? You could. You could be even a little exciting, a little seductive.

  “Could we go out more, maybe? To shows, or night-clubs, or whatever you like?”

  “Thanks, Reggie, that’s a very nice idea. Later on, perhaps.”

  “Jake… We used to love each other…”

  “Certainly. We do now. But at the moment, I’m pretty busy. If you’ll excuse me—”

  “Well, good-night, Jake,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

  One of her damn flower-kisses, he thought. I’m not going to go on like this. I can’t stand it, and I won’t.

  Chapter 5

  He waked in the morning, feeling strangely ill. When he got out of bed his legs were so weak he could scarcely stand. There was a grinding pain in the pit of his stomach.

  This is no hangover, he said to himself. Anyhow, I didn’t drink so much last night. No. This is something else. Something serious.

  He was afraid to take a cold shower, feeling like this. He dressed as quickly as he could, but his hands trembled horribly. When he brushed his hair, one of the brushes somehow twisted in his hand and hit him a whack on the head. He had a very bad time with his necktie.

  This is no hangover, he thought. I’ve had plenty of them in my day, and this isn’t one. I’m going to take a drink, but it won’t help me much. Not with this thing, whatever it is.

  He had the good luck to get downstairs without meeting anyone. He remembered that the bottle in the study was empty, and he had to go to the cellarette in the dining-room. That was almost too much. Mary might come in, Reggie, Miss Castle, Jay, anyone, and see him taking a drink—before breakfast. The thought of it made him sweat with fear and dismay.

  But I’ve got to! he cried to himself. I can’t go on this way. He opened the cellarette in the sideboard, he unscrewed the top of a bottle, and he had poured himself a generous drink before he noticed that it was gin instead of whiskey.

  “Oh, damn!” he said, aloud.

  But then an idea came to him. He put the bottle back and filled up the glass, already half-full of gin, with stale water from the carafe; he carried it into his study and closed the door. He scribbled some meaningless figures on the pad before him; he sipped his drink, and lit a cigarette. He knew Reggie would come knocking at the door, and she did.

  “Come in!” he said, absently.

  “Oh, Jake! You shouldn’t smoke before breakfast, hon!”

  “Just a minute…” he said, in the same absent tone, and wrote down some more figures. He lifted the glass and took another swallow. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Reggie.”

  Anyone would take it for granted that what he had was a glass of water. You don’t expect to see a man drinking gin at eight o’clock in the morning. Normally, he thought, I’d say it was a pretty bad sign, pretty serious. Only I’m so damn sick…

  Only he wasn’t. That strange weakness, the pain, the trembling, were all passing away. His brain became clear, and he remembered the plan he had made the night before. It was a good plan, and he intended to carry it out at once.

  He went into the dining-room, and for the first time he noticed that it was raining outside; there was a grey, dull light in the room. Reggie was wearing a black dress with long sleeves; she looked, he thought, like a shop-girl.

  “Jay…!” said Miss Castle, and Jay stood up.

  “G’morning, Daddy!” he said, and sat down again, so hard that his chair slid back a little.

  “Good-morning,” said Duff. “Good-morning, Miss Castle.”

  “Good-morning, Mr. Duff.”

  He liked all this good-morning good-morning ritual; he liked the looks of Miss Castle, in her white blouse and grey skirt, with the healthy color in her cheeks. And Jay, he thought, was a rather remarkable child. Not exactly handsome, but even now, at this age, he looked like Somebody.

  “You can eat plain boiled eggs, couldn’t you, Jake?” asked Reggie.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “I’m a little off my feed. Need a change, probably. Tell you what, Reggie. If you haven’t any engagements, suppose we go out to the shack for the week-end?”

  “Oh, I’d love it!” she said.

  “Good! You can drive out this afternoon, and I’ll come straight from the office. We can eat dinner at the Yacht Club, to save you trouble.”

  “Oh, let’s eat home! I’ll get things on the way. I love to cook, Jake.”

  “Nolan can wait there until I come,” he said. “I don’t care to have you there alone. It’s pretty deserted, this time of the year.”

  “All right, Jake,” she said.

  He drank a cup of coffee and ate a slice of toast.

  “Kin I go now?” Jay asked.

  “No,” said Duff. “You’re to stay at the table until other people have finished.”

  Jay leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

  “Unfold your arms,” said Duff.

  “Well, why? What’s bad about that?”

  “Do as you’re told,” said Duff.

  Jay stretched out his arms straight from the shoulders, and looked at his father sidelong.

  “Sit properly!” shouted Duff.

  “Well, how? I don’t know how you mean!”

  “Then I’ll teach you. You need a good thrashing.”

  “I do not!” said Jay, and began to cry.

  “Come, Jay!” said Miss Castle, and taking his hand she led him out of the room.

  “Honestly, Jake, he doesn’t mean to be naughty,” said Reggie. “It’s only—”

  “Would you very much mind not explaining my own son to me?” he said, pushing back his chair. “I know exactly what’s wrong with Jay.”

  And it’s you, he thought. He used to be a very well-behaved child; people spoke of it. But you encourage him to spend his time with the servants; you send him out to the garage. To Nolan.

  I’ve got to get rid of Reggie, he thought.

  He did not care for the thought in that crude form. I mean, he said to himself, that I want a separation. We’re not suited to each other in any way, and it is ruinous for the child. She can’t be so very happy, herself. Perhaps if I simply went to her and proposed a separation, she’d agree. But Aunt Lou would make such a hell of a row ab
out it. Give Reggie a chance. The poor girl. All that. She won’t see.

  So I’ve got to go through all this unpleasantness, he thought. His plan of last night was indeed detestable to him. It’s not the sort of thing a gentleman does, he thought. But what else can I do? I haven’t been into her room for nearly two months—and that doesn’t seem to bother her. I never bring anyone here. I never take her anywhere. If she wasn’t so damn stupid and common, she’d have seen… And, at that, maybe she does see. It’s a nice life. Plenty of money, plenty of clothes. Mrs. Jacob Duff…

  He hated the house and was glad to get out of it, but he hated the office too.

  “I’m just stepping up for a cup of coffee,” he told Miss Fuller at eleven o’clock.

  He went to another bar this time, so that this little pick-me-up would not look habitual. And in this place he came across a fellow he knew, Sammy Poole.

  “Hello!” Duff said, with an air of immense surprise. “What are you doing here, this time of the day?”

  “Oh, I come every morning,” said Sammy.

  He did not seem to see anything out of the way in it. He seemed very healthy, too; he played golf, he went to a gym, and so on. Duff did not make the explanation he had been ready to make. If Sammy could take this for granted, so much the better. He had two drinks, just two; he was never going beyond that. Then he went back to the office.

  I don’t know, he thought. Maybe I’ll cut lunch out entirely. You’re bound to lose weight that way.

  He dictated some letters, he saw two or three people, he talked to Hanbury.

  “Mr. Duff,” said Miss Fuller, “will it be all right if I go out to lunch now? It’s after two.”

  “Oh, certainly, certainly!” he said. “Go right ahead. I didn’t realize the time.”

  When she had gone, he had nothing to do, and he felt very sick again. He went out to the first bar, and it upset him. I can’t go running in and out of bars all the time, he thought. It doesn’t look well. I ought to keep something in the office, in case I want it. Plenty of fellows do that. Only Miss Fuller’s in and out, all the time.