James, Fabulous Feline

by Harriet Hahn

  The third round of singles ended with a quarter-final pairing of Helena against a young Royal, Jane against a Victorian lady, a Butler against a Victorian, and Lord Henry against Fiona. The four quarter-final games were played simultaneously on the four courts, and Peter, James and I were kept busy running from court to court. At last the results were in. Helena, Jane, Fiona, and a Butler had survived. Our hopes now lay with Helena.

  It was decided that the semifinals would be played at once. Then the contestants would have time for a long lunch and rest, and the finals would be played in the afternoon.

  Fiona dispatched her adversary in short order on the court on one side of the castle. On a court on the other side, Helena and Jane faced off. Helena was tired and for a while it looked as though Jane might win. James set himself to be a constantly moving object, always in Jane’s sightline. He developed the sharp meow just as she was about to hit the ball and the pounce at an imaginary mouse just as she had lined up her shot, but to no avail as far as we could see until the end of the match. I don’t know whether it was a sudden case of overconfidence or the efforts of James, but Jane aimed at the stake, gave a dramatic sweep with her mallet, James yowled, and she missed badly. Helena took the opening provided and won. The finals in the singles competition would be between the Honorable Fiona Wettin and Lady Helena. James was wild with excitement. Lord Henry was worried, and the rest of us rejoiced.

  As for the other games, the team-of-four final would be between Etheria’s team in doublet and hose and the Royals in tabards, and the doubles finals would see one pair of Butlers play the other.

  It promised to be an interesting afternoon. Team of four would play first, doubles second and singles last.

  Now that the field had been reduced to the final contestants, the viscount provided a splendid luncheon for the teams participating in the finals in the contestants’ tent. He had thoughtfully provided a cot on which Helena could stretch out if she chose, and she did. She was surrounded by not only Lord Henry, Peter and me but Roger Ham and the new member of Etheria’s team, Ellen Bruce. James sat next to her and scowled at us all. At last, Helena sent us all away.

  Roger and Ellen wandered off together, and James and I went outside to check the court where Helena’s match would be played. It was a glorious afternoon, a faint dust scattering the sunlight in the air. The pennants of the players fluttered on the players’ poles. Spectators now covered the earthworks and some hung from the ruined windows of the castle.

  We wandered through the castle and out past the gift shop. James stopped to examine the coal pile. It was very dusty. On the courts that would not be used we found some young men removing wickets while a group of children played with a pair of Welsh terriers. James watched them carefully. At last he ran out onto the field in sight of the dogs. They immediately gave chase, but they are small dogs with short legs and James easily outdistanced them. He then insisted we return to the courts where the matches were to be played. He found a croquet ball lying on the grass and ran at it as hard as he could, streaking over it but moving it some small distance in the process. Then he seemed satisfied that what he had practiced in the apartment seemed to work and went to sit on the stands to wait for play to begin. I was worried. What did he have in mind?

  Trumpeters appeared and blasted on their trumpets. Spectators who were wandering assembled, including the children and their dogs. The contestants for the team-of-four finals were introduced and the game began.

  Etheria’s team was doomed from the start. Etheria herself was the cause. She is intensely snobbish and when faced with four members of the royal family, if only cousins, she could not restrain the impulse to curtsy and paid no attention to her game. Fiona did her best, but her mind was on the finals. The viscountess was more interested in the arrangements for the awards banquet to follow and kept forgetting it was her turn. Ellen played passably but was clearly interested in catching the eye of an eligible young man. The Royals won. James grinned.

  The doubles final between the four members of the Butlers team was a more or less jolly affair. Jane and Roger won in a walk, and then all four hung on one another’s shoulders laughing.

  Now at last was the moment our team had been waiting for. The trumpeters trumpeted. Helena in her white cap with a big purple J on it and a white billowy, summer dress joined Fiona, in her doublet and hose. The viscount tossed a coin, and Helena called “heads.” It came up tails. Fiona chose to go second and the game began.

  Both players were very skillful, and the advantage seesawed back and forth. About the middle of the game, James, who had been getting more and more nervous, disappeared entirely.

  The spectators were very quiet. The game was nearing its end. Fiona’s ball lay in front of the last wicket. A well-directed shot through the wicket would hit the last stake and win the game. Helena’s ball was behind Fiona’s but also in perfect position. However, it was Fiona’s turn to shoot. The game seemed over. Fiona had won. As she approached her ball, there was a sudden disturbance among the spectators. Suddenly a black cat streaked across the field followed by the two Welsh terriers. The cat ran right across the area of play and the dogs followed. The cat disappeared under the stands. The dogs were caught by a referee and returned to the children who were standing on the sidelines.

  When play was resumed it appeared that Fiona’s ball was no longer in perfect position. Instead it was lying impossibly against the wire of the wicket itself. It would require at least one shot to get back in position, but it would also be in perfect position for Helena to remove it. The game had been turned around.

  The referee was called. Fiona demanded that she be allowed to replace her ball. Etheria entered the argument and demanded that Fiona be awarded the game. The referee, perhaps irritated by Etheria’s manner, decided that, as had happened on other occasions during the tournament, acts of God and animals were just the breaks of the game and that no relief would be given.

  Fiona was angry. She slashed at her ball. It bounced against the wicket and rolled farther away.

  Helena approached her ball. She looked over at the stands where, lying on the grass underneath, a cat was grinning at her. Then she took her mallet and, pretending to try to hit Fiona’s ball, knocked her own ball away.

  Fiona recovered and hit her ball into position again. Helena hit a poor shot from some distance away. Fiona played her final shot and hit the stake. The game was over. The stands erupted. Etheria rushed onto the court and hugged Fiona. Fiona, looking puzzled, brushed Etheria aside and held out her hand to Helena. “That was very sporting, indeed,” she said. “You could have won.”

  “No,” said Helena, smiling. “It wouldn’t have been fair, but thank you for a splendid game.”

  Then Helena returned to the stands to join the rest of us. James climbed out from under where we were sitting and glared at everyone. The trumpets blared and Fiona’s pennant was run up the winners’ pole.

  James, who was covered with coal dust, was glaring at Helena. He batted at her arm and coal dust flew around.

  “James, dear,” said Helena slowly, “you must not be angry. I appreciate that you wanted me to win, but that is not the way.”

  James gave her a disgusted look. She should have won. He had fixed it all up.

  He looked at the rest of us, to Lord Henry, Peter, Roger, who was sitting with us, and me. We all looked grave. We all shook our heads.

  Ellen, who seemed for the moment to have attached herself to Roger, grinned at James. “I thought it was a very clever move,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “Clever, maybe, but not sporting,” said Roger.

  “You see,” said Helena, “the game has rules and if it is to have any value as a game, you must play it by the rules. If you break the rules to win, there is no sense to the game. I had to give Fiona the game because, before you appeared, she was in a position to win. She might have blown it, but all I did was give her the opportunity to get back to where she was and if I had not done that, I could
never have accepted the prize if I had won. It’s a matter of sportsmanship.”

  “Oh,” said Ellen.

  One of the Royals appeared. “I have to congratulate you,” he said. “That was a very sporting thing you did.”

  Helena smiled. “It was a fine game,” she said, “and truly the best woman won.”

  James looked from one to the other again.

  “She’s right,” said Peter, “there is no point in winning by cheating.”

  James began to quiver, and coal dust blew all over. Helena picked him up and put him on her lap, coal dust and all. “You are my dearest friend and I love the impulse that made you want to help,” she said. “Now let’s get clean and go to the banquet.”

  I had never seen such a change in James. He had been ashamed of himself once when he fell into the baptismal font at the village church during a service, but then he was ashamed because he had been showing off and he knew it. Now he was not only ashamed because all his friends and his peer, Lord Henry, had made it very clear that an action he had carefully planned in order that Helena could win the championship was wrong, was in fact so wrong she had to throw the game away to make up for it.

  He kept watching us all through the banquet, which was held on the grounds where only hours before croquet courts had been laid out. The delicious food and wine were brought by caterers in large trucks that also functioned as serving stations.

  In the long summer twilight, as candles flickered on the tables in what tiny breeze there was, we toasted one another and laughed, all except James who curled up on the chair provided for him, put his paws over his head and responded to no one. Helena tried to tempt him with food. He simply shook his head. She stroked him gently, ignoring the coal dust that still clung to his grey fur. “I love you, James, sir,” she whispered. “I think the feeling behind your gesture was wonderful.” James gave a tiny meow, but he refused to participate. His spirit, at least for the moment, was badly bent.

  Trophies were handed out at last, and speeches made by the viscount and by the winners. The team of four Royals, represented by a tall, bald fellow, thanked everybody and hoped to play again next year. As he was about to sit down he remembered something. “I want to compliment the directors of the tournament and particularly the players for the high standard of sportsmanship displayed.”

  The Butlers pair thanked everybody and were appropriately solemn for as long as they were at the podium. They collapsed in laughter as soon as they had made their acceptance speech.

  Fiona rose to receive her trophy to the enthusiastic applause of her team. Etheria looked at Helena and gave a little toss of her head that said, “Those of us who are superior will always win.”

  Fiona had a strange look on her bony face. It seemed to be compounded of fear and confusion. Her normally loud and somewhat grating voice was muffled.

  “I’m glad I won the trophy,” she said. “It is a source of satisfaction to our team, but I have to acknowledge that not only was my opponent a skillful player, she was also”—there was a short pause—“an uncommonly gracious and sportswomanlike contestant.”

  A roar of applause went up on the part of everyone except Etheria, who now directed her animosity to Fiona.

  “Poor Honorable Wettin,” I thought. “Her noble connection, the duchess of Inverness, is about to cut her off. No wonder she looked afraid.”

  “That took courage, considering the circumstances,” I said to Helena.

  “Yes,” said Helena, “and we must remember that.”

  At last the time came for the party to break up. Lord Henry, on behalf of the contestants and their families and supporters thanked the viscount and viscountess, and we walked toward the drawbridge and Weatherby. I carried an inert James, though atleast his eyes were open. Roger and Jane caught up with us and so did Ellen Bruce. This very pretty girl with long, lovely legs and wavy black hair to her shoulders seemed to have attached herself to us.

  Back at the Hall I stood in front of my window looking out at the night. James sat on the windowsill. He was very depressed. I got a brush I carry for him and brushed the last of the coal dust out of his coat. He usually loves brushing, but now he passively let me finish, then he hopped off the windowsill and plopped himself on the foot of the bed.

  “Good night,” I said as I climbed in.

  All I heard in response was a sort of sob.

  Perhaps in sympathy with James, the fine weather disappeared, and rain and drizzle with occasional gusts of cold wind descended. On our return on Monday after the tournament, James had dragged himself up to the fifth floor, and there he stayed for two days. At last on Wednesday, he appeared at five in the afternoon, accepted only cream, sat on the windowsill looking out at the rain, and then refused the offer of a dinner at Frank’s or Colombino’s. Instead, he stalked gloomily back upstairs. Peter asked after him. Mrs. March was worried about him. I was a bit concerned myself, as James had always bounced back before.

  Sunday he came early in the morning and insisted we go out. It was a little warmer and showed some signs of sun and I thought he wanted a walk, but he led me directly to St. James’s Church, where we listened to a sermon on sin and redemption. James, who had never listened to a sermon before even when he had to sit in the village church at Haverstock, sat perfectly still through it all. Then he wandered around the churchyard for a time and at last headed back to Baron’s Chambers.

  When we got to my flat, I found a note under my door.

  James sat on the stairs while I read it.

  “Do you feel well enough to meet people this afternoon?” I asked. “I really need you.”

  James nodded in a perfunctory way.

  “Roger Ham is coming with Helena and some others; that’s what the note says.”

  James laid his head on his paws and looked miserable.

  I went into my apartment, and James followed. He jumped on the easy chair, stood on the back of it and looked at himself in the little mirror with the gold frame that hangs just above the chair. He saw a scruffy cat with dull, despairing eyes and unkempt fur.

  Soon the bell rang and I admitted Roger and Helena and, to my surprise, Fiona Wettin.

  James retreated to the windowsill and looked at us from a long distance. A sinner in jail, not permitted to participate.

  “Helena consented to come to town to install the painting I bought from her in my office,” said Roger, by way of explanation.

  “I think it will do very well on the wall across from your desk,” said Helena. “It is nice to have someone pay attention to my work for a change.” Then she turned to Fiona. “We met Fiona at the Savoy where we stopped in for coffee and offered her a ride home.”

  Fiona smiled her funny smile. “I must say it is very good of you, Lady Haverstock, to do this,” she said.

  “For heaven’s sake call me Helena and let’s be friends,” said Helena.

  Fiona blushed. “Thank you, Helena,” she said.

  I now produced tea and ginger biscuits, and James, after some coaxing, consented to sit next to Helena and let her stroke him gently.

  “I’m afraid I have been presumptuous,” said Fiona, once we were all provided with refreshment. “I have asked Ellen Bruce to stop in for a few minutes.”

  James looked up and snarled. I was surprised at the suggestion of an apology in Fiona’s announcement. Usually she simply does as she wishes.

  “Fine,” I said. “As I remember, she’s the girl with the big eyes and the stunning legs who was on your team after Lucy sprained her ankle.”

  “Exactly.” Fiona was rapidly returning to form. “She is a very distinguished young person, a direct descendant of Robert the Bruce of Scotland.”

  We all nodded to indicate we knew how important Robert the Bruce was.

  “Etheria found her,” Fiona continued, “at a festival in Edinburgh and felt that a girl with her background should not be waiting tables. She seems to have some dramatic talent, so Etheria is paying her tuition at the Royal Academy of
Dramatic Art and giving her a small allowance. She lives in London now. I’m not sure a career in the theater is quite the right thing for one of her breeding, but Etheria seems to think it is all right.”

  “She certainly has the looks for it,” said Roger with a sigh.

  James hissed at him.

  Then the doorbell sounded and Ellen herself made an appearance.

  I offered her tea, which she accepted, and a chair, which she declined in favor of sitting on the floor next to Roger, stretching her handsome legs out and resting her back against his chair. She made a most attractive sight.

  She didn’t so much talk as make little flattering noises every time Roger talked. Meanwhile, Roger looked first at Helena and then down at Ellen, not sure where his interest should light.

  We talked about an exhibition at the Royal Academy in Burlington House which had generated a lot of controversy.

  “I have some catalogs and reproductions I picked up in the bedroom,” I said. Helena and Roger decided to settle a dispute by looking them over. The three of us retired to the bedroom. James remained on the sofa.

  “Ellen,” Fiona asked when they were alone, “will you do me a great favor?”

  “Of course,” said Ellen. “You and Etheria have been so kind to me I’d be happy to do whatever you want.”

  “I can’t get up to London for the Victorian jewelry sale at Thwaites on June fifth. I will be in Edinburgh and there is a brooch in the sale I very much want. Will you bid on it for me?” Fiona produced a catalog from her capacious purse. “I have marked the lot number and I would be prepared to spend £350. I will tell Thwaites you are my agent and you can charge the brooch to my account if you get it.”

  Ellen took the catalog and smiled her radiant smile. “I’d be delighted to bid for you. It will be fun.”

  “Thank you,” said Fiona.