“Not many people would have remembered that,” he said.
“Oh yes, I think they would.” She sighed a little. It didn’t seem very important, anyway.
“Well then, they wouldn’t have acted on it. It couldn’t have been easy, Ariane?” He was still looking straight ahead, and there was not much expression in his voice.
“Why, no, it—wasn’t.” It warmed her heart very slightly that he should know that.
“And only a sense of duty made you do it?”
She wondered if that were a statement at first. Then she realized that it was a question.
“I suppose so. Yes.” She was vaguely grateful to him for talking like this. It kept her thoughts from what had happened.
“Your sense of duty must be pretty strong.”
“Oh—no, I don’t think so. I suppose—” She broke off, without finishing the sentence.
“Yes, Ariane?”
She roused herself again.
“I suppose there are always a few times in your life when duty isn’t just an old-fashioned word. It’s something very—real, and, if you’re worth anything at all, you act on it.”
It was she who was looking thoughtfully ahead that time, so that she didn’t see the half-startled glance he gave her.
He made no reply, however. And after that there was silence until they reached the house. And even then he handed her out without a word.
“Will you come in?”
“No. I don’t think your mother would want to see me, of all people, just now.” He spoke quite gently and entirely without rancour. “But I’ll wait out here in the car in case I can be of any use. Just send out one of the servants later on if there is anything you would like done.”
“You’re very kind.” His unusual consideration shook her composure more than anything else had done, and her mouth trembled as she whispered, “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Ariane. There’s no need to tell you to be brave, because you always are.”
She shook her head dumbly and ran into the house. And as she went, she wondered guiltily if it were callous of her to find that, even at this moment, his praise had power to move her.
It was a sad and bewildered household to which Ariane returned. Mrs. Dobson, completely prostrated by the shock, was scarcely able to grasp the full meaning of what had happened, and it fell to her daughter to order and arrange almost every detail of the sad business.
Afterwards, Ariane could scarcely believe that it was to Harvey she had looked for support during the whole of that difficult evening. But in a way, it was his quiet, almost stern air which helped her to retain her own composure.
He and his car were at her disposal for every commission, however small. And it was not until a strange and bewildering evening had emerged into a strange and bewildering night that Ariane remembered these were Marta’s last hours in England, and marvelled wearily at the way Harvey had spent them.
Not until several days later did Ariane speak to her mother about her broken engagement. Even then, she was reluctant to do so, but to leave matters longer would involve the risk of someone else mentioning it. And so it had to be done.
To Julie she merely said that the engagement was over, but to her mother she told the whole truth, feeling that only that would justify what she was doing.
It was not quite so much of a shock as she had expected, perhaps because one of the chief reasons for the engagement had now ceased to exist.
“I don’t see that you could have done anything else, my dear,” Mrs. Dobson said with a sigh. “But, of course, it simply leaves us where we were in the beginning. Except that—that there are only ourselves and Julie to consider now.”
“Yes. We’ll have to see how things are when everything has been settled, and I must get a job of some sort,” Ariane explained. “I’ve been trying to think it all out—”
“There isn’t any need to be in such a hurry, Ariane. We must wait and see what the exact position of Dobson’s is now, and the terms of your father’s will.”
Ariane said nothing. She felt that there was very little to be gained in waiting to hear the details of their disaster before they made any plans. But she saw that her mother shrank from having to make any more decisions just then. Bewildered at what had befallen her, she clung determinedly, and indeed a little querulously, to a set of circumstances which had really already left her.
“Poor Mother,” thought Ariane. “She’s going to find the change even more miserable than she thinks.”
Julie, for her part, took the announcement of the broken engagement calmly.
“I say! That’s a pity, isn’t it? But we can still be friendly with the Muldanes, can’t we?”
“Of course, Julie!” Ariane assured her. “Frank and I haven’t quarrelled in the least.”
“All the same,” Mrs. Dobson interrupted quickly, “we shan’t see more of them than we can help. But for your engagement, Ariane, they would never have been the kind of people we should have dreamed of knowing well. We shall just have to drop them as quickly and as quietly as dignity permits. And, as far as I am concerned,” she added with a sigh, “I shall not be at all sorry.”
“But, Mother,”—Ariane was rather disturbed at this—“I don’t think there will be any question of our dropping them. They’re altogether too much in our set. Besides, it would look—”
“Of course, my dear, I’m not suggesting anything that would seem like pique on your part.” Mrs. Dobson spoke rather more sharply than usual. “But we can’t disguise the fact that they’re not our sort, and never would be.”
Ariane drew in her breath to answer with some heat, but at that moment, Julie, who had been gazing abstractedly out of the window, interrupted.
“Here’s the Muldane car coming up the drive,” she announced shrilly. “And—yes, it’s old Mr. Muldane himself getting out, and Harvey. I wonder what they want.”
Ariane wondered too. And she guessed, from the exclamation of nervous distaste, that her mother probably felt the greatest apprehension of all.
There was almost complete silence when Mr. Muldane and Harvey actually came in. Then Julie observed sociably:
“How d’you do? We were just talking about you, funnily enough.”
“Julie.” Mrs. Dobson’s way of pronouncing her name quelled further eloquence.
“Well, Mrs. Dobson,” Mr. Muldane firmly grasped the reluctant hand she extended, “this is a very sad business. There’s not much one can say. But I thought perhaps a talk on practical possibilities might help a lot more than all these vague uncertainties. Frankness is always best.”
“It is very kind of you.” Mrs. Dobson’s tone implied something more like the reverse. “I don’t know that there is much—”
“Oh yes, I’m afraid there is. You see—”
“Julie,” Mrs. Dobson turned to her younger daughter again, “you’d better run along and find something else to do.”
“Oh, Mother I There’s nothing to do,” signed Julie.
Harvey, however, went over and held open the door. But he smiled at her quite kindly as she made her exit at a funereal pace.
“Now—” Mr. Muldane cleared his throat and settled back in his chair with a business-like air which, Ariane guessed, irritated her mother profoundly. “Of course you know that Dobson’s was—well,” he made a deprecating gesture, “in a pretty rocky condition.”
Mrs. Dobson coloured slightly and stiffened still more. She didn’t really share Mr. Muldane’s belief that frankness was always best.
“The firm had not been doing well,” she admitted coldly.
“No. No, exactly. But with the prospect of your girl marrying Frank, I’d come to something of an understanding with Mr. Dobson before his death. We were arranging to put a good deal of capital into the business, with the idea that it should eventually belong to the young people.”
Mrs. Dobson’s face remained curiously impassive. Ariane knew that her mother was disgustedly resenting expressions like “your g
irl” and “the young people.” And she knew that Harvey knew it too. He didn’t offer to help his father out, however, but just stared at the floor with unnecessary attention.
“Now, of course, things are a great deal altered.” Even Mr. Muldane was beginning to find that frankness had its pitfalls, and instead of leaning back in his chair, he was sitting forward a trifle embarrassedly.
“Yes,” Mrs. Dobson said, slowly and distinctly. “In fact, the connection between the two families and the two firms has really ceased to exist.”
“Well, I—shouldn’t like to—er—put it like that.” Mr. Muldane was having some difficulty in putting it at all by now, but he made another effort. “You see, I can’t help knowing that, as a paying proposition, Dobson’s is finished. If I or any other firm take it over—buy it, subsidize it—whatever you like to call it, there won’t be a great deal in it for your family, Mrs. Dobson, when everything is settled up.”
The silence now would have beaten a less stubborn man, but Mr. Muldane ploughed on.
“Your husband and I didn’t always see eye to eye in the past,” he explained unnecessarily, “but before the end I—well, I liked and respected him. In a way, I feel some sort of responsibility about his family. I want you to let me make myself responsible for the education of your younger girl, Mrs. Dobson. She’s a bright kiddie, and deserves a good start. As for Ariane, I don’t see why we shouldn’t find her a good place in the business. I’m sorry she and my boy didn’t—”
“Mr. Muldane,” Mrs. Dobson stood up, thereby forcing them to do the same, “if I am compelled to resort to charity For the education of Julie, or to curry favour in order to find employment for Ariane, I shall apply to my friends. I shall not, I earnestly hope, ever be in a position to have to make you feel responsible for my family.”
“Oh, Mother—” Ariane was very white. “Mother, how can you? They mean to be so kind. You must understand.”
She felt no sort of apology would ever wipe out the bewildered surprise on Mr. Muldane’s face, or the pale, angry humiliation of Harvey.
“Ariane, my dear, you must let me deal with this.”
“I think, Mrs. Dobson, that you have dealt with it.” Harvey spoke for the first time, very quietly and coldly. “My father hasn’t perhaps put his suggestion as well as he might—as gracefully as a Dobson would have put it—but it was generously meant, and has been, less generously, refused. I don’t think there is anything else any of us can say about it.”
“But—” began Mr. Muldane.
“It’s more than time we went,” Harvey said firmly. “I’m afraid Mrs. Dobson finds our presence definitely distasteful.”
Ariane was in despair. She felt there must be something she could say, so that they should not go away so utterly sore and humiliated, but her mother’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“I agree that there is nothing else whatever to add. Good afternoon,” Mrs. Dobson said.
The Muldanes both bowed slightly and, in absolute silence, went out of the room.
“It’s impossible I You can’t let them go like that!” Ariane was very near tears, as she started forward towards the closed door.
“Ariane, I insist that you should respect my wishes and authority in this,” Mrs. Dobson said. “This—this impertinent offer was made to me. It is for me to deal with it.”
“But it’s not impertinent! He was trying to be kind. He meant it when he said he felt responsible. They don’t know why you’re so angry—at least, the old man doesn’t. Oh, it’s like hitting a child for being clumsy.” And Ariane almost wrung her hands because she suddenly remembered what Harvey had said of himself and his mother: “I was a clumsy, bad-tempered child, I think, and never seemed able to please her much.”
“My dear child, will you stop being hysterical about this.” Mrs. Dobson sounded really angry for once. “You don’t seem to realize that—”
“Oh, I say, have they gone? Couldn’t they stay to tea?” Julie stood in the doorway, disappointedly surveying the scene. “Ariane! What on earth is the matter?”
No one seemed anxious to explain, however.
“Please stop being so absurd,” Mrs. Dobson said sharply. “All those two really wanted was a chance to buy up Dobson’s cheaply, and make us feel under an obligation at the same time. They thought because we were alone now—”
“But why?” began Julie again with maddening obtuseness.
Unable to bear any more, Ariane got up and went out of the room, leaving her mother to the task of satisfying Julie.
Upstairs in her own room, she wandered about, aimless and unhappy. She hated being at variance with her mother, but in this, Ariane was convinced, considerable injustice had been done. And the injustice had fallen where she would least have wished it.
A little while afterwards, Julie came in search of her.
“Goodness, Ariane! It isn’t much good sitting moping up here,” she said practically. “Besides, it’s tea-time. Come along down.”
Ariane got up with a sigh from the chair in which she had been lying.
“I wish I could do something about it,” she said disconsolately.
“Was Mother frightfully upper-ten?” asked Julie comprehendingly.
“Frightfully,” Ariane sighed.
“Did they get angry, or just turn red and look silly?” Julie wanted to know.”
“Harvey went very white,” Ariane said in a whisper.
“And the old man?”
“He just looked utterly bewildered, Julie. He simply didn’t understand what Mother was getting at.”
“Then you should have explained.”
“But I couldn’t. It would have been like letting Mother down, to argue with her in front of them. And she’s had so much to put up with already,” Ariane added sadly.
“Oh—” Julie sucked her under-lip thoughtfully and considered the problem from another angle. “Well then, next time you see them—”
“There won’t be a next time, I’m afraid,” her sister interrupted. “They’ll probably avoid us like the plague in future.”
But Julie was still unbeaten.
“Suppose I went down to see them and explained? They couldn’t refuse to let me in.”
Ariane smiled faintly.
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t do, Julie Then she stopped abruptly. “But I might go. There’s quite a good deal I could explain without being disloyal to Mother. About her being overwrought and—and not understanding the kindness of their intention, and so on. It’s quite true that Mr. Muldane couldn’t actually refuse to see me. ... Julie, I’ll go! It’s hateful, but it’s the only way.”
“Perhaps I ought to come too.” Julie still thirsted for an active role.
“No, dear, that wouldn’t do, I’m afraid. It’s the sort of thing that must be done by one person.”
“We-ell, all right,” conceded Julie. “Though the idea was mine.”
Ariane generously admitted the fact, but still insisted that she must go alone. And, with Julie almost completely appeased, they went down to tea together.
There was a little comfort in Ariane’s heart at the thought that something definite might be done. Although, along with that, was acute nervousness for the prospect of the interview she must face.
Anyway, she must not think too much about that, or her courage would fail altogether. And, during the first half of the evening, she forced herself to think of other things.
Not until after dinner, when she had at last found an opportunity to slip away, did she allow her thoughts to travel ahead of her to the big house where the Muldanes lived.
She tried to reassure herself with the reminder that Mr. Muldane had always liked her, always been quite kind to her. But she felt that his liking and kindness must have undergone a severe strain that afternoon.
By the time she reached the house, her heart was beating heavily, and her breathing was quick and shallow. She rang the great polished bell and waited.
The few moments before the door o
pened were horrible, but she managed to say quite calmly then:
“Is Mr. Muldane in?”
“No, Miss Dobson, I’m sorry. He won’t be in until late.”
Ariane stared at the servant in dismay. Somehow she had never thought of this. It had seemed to her that if only she could persuade herself to come there and face the interview, the rest would follow automatically. Her question had been the nearest form.
“Would you perhaps like to see Mr. Harvey? He’s the only one in, miss.”
See Harvey about this horrible business! No, that really was the last thing on earth she was prepared to do. To explain and apologize to old Mr. Muldane would have been unpleasant enough. But to spread out her thin, pitiful explanations for Harvey’s supercilious judgment was more than she could do.
“No. Oh no, thank you. It doesn’t matter,” she said hastily.
The servant looked a little doubtful. And then, at that moment, a door opened and Harvey himself came out into the hall. The light shone full on her, and he could scarcely fail to see her.
“What is it, Ariane?” He came forward unsmilingly, and his voice sounded very cold and remote to her.
“Miss Dobson wanted to see Mr. Muldane,” explained the servant, since Miss Dobson seemed quite unable to explain for herself.
“I see. I’m sorry, my father is out. Will you come in and let me settle whatever it is?”
She wanted to say “No” again, but something in his tone forbade that.
In fascinated silence she followed him across the hall and into the big panelled room which was Mr. Muldane’s office. She wished most fervently that she had never come, that Mr. Muldane would return at once—that anything in the world, in fact, would happen to stop this scene with Harvey.
But nothing did happen.
Instead, he shut the door, and leaning against it, surveyed her coolly.
“Well, Ariane, what does your family want with mine this time?”
CHAPTER IX
Harvey’s way of putting it frightened her more than ever. She stood there for a moment, wordless, fumbling rather pathetically with her gloves.
But Not For Me Page 12
