O, These Men, These Men!

by Angela Thirkell

  “One ought to be allowed to go straight to bed after a wedding,’ said Anna yawning. “All that emotion so early and then nothing to do. It’s too early for a cinema even. I wish something exciting would happen.”

  The telephone bell rang. Colonel Beaton took off the receiver.

  “Your wife wants to speak to you, Herbert,” he said. “I hope she’s all right with James.”

  Dr. Herbert went to the telephone. What his wife had to say was evidently extremely disturbing. He said hardly anything, but his ejaculations showed that something unusual had happened.

  “I’ll be round at once,” he said and rang off.

  “One of your patients come up to London and had a stroke?” said Anna.

  “No,” said Dr. Herbert, getting his coat on. “I haven’t time to try to break this to you, Anna. It is your brother James. An accident of some sort.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Colonel Beaton taking Anna’s arm.

  They got in a taxi and drove in silence to Francis’ house where a red-eyed Rose opened the door to them.

  “Oh, Miss Anna, oh, sir,” was all that she could say between sobs and sniffs.

  Dr. Herbert put her not unkindly aside, shut the front door and ran upstairs. Colonel Beaton and Anna followed him, not knowing where to go, nor whether they were wanted.

  “We had better go into the drawing room,” said Anna. “I feel frightened. What do you think it is?”

  Before Colonel Beaton could answer, Mrs. Herbert came into the room, looking agitated.

  “Has Rose told you?” she asked.

  “No one has told us anything,” said Colonel Beaton impatiently. “What is it?”

  “My dear, it wasn’t my fault,” said Mrs. Herbert tragically to Anna. “I was very fond of James in old days and I wanted to help him. So I stayed with him this morning to let poor Francis, who looked like death after the dreadful night we had, go to Julia’s wedding, and I was more disappointed than I can tell you to miss it myself, but I felt I could do more with James than anybody and now it has come to this. You will need some wine or something. I’ll ring for Rose; but she does nothing but cry and makes the other servants cry too.”

  Colonel Beaton checked her as she was about to ring.

  “Mrs. Herbert,” he said, “what has happened to James?”

  “Yes, please what is it?” said Anna, holding tightly to Colonel Beaton’s sleeve with both hands to keep herself steady.

  “It was the bath,” said Mrs. Herbert. “Rose and I had got him to bed and my husband gave him something to make him sleep before he went to the church. But it didn’t work and James said he must have a bath and shave himself. If I had any sense I would have locked the door, but Rose and I were arguing with him and he suddenly burst out of bed and almost knocked us over and he went into the bathroom and bolted the door. And then we heard him fall.”

  “Is he dead?” said Colonel Beaton, holding Anna’s hands firmly in one of his own.

  “We couldn’t tell. We couldn’t get in. So I thought you would be back from the wedding and I rang up the hotel. My husband broke the door open.”

  “Sit down, darling,” said Colonel Beaton to Anna, though neither of them noticed the word, so anxious and exasperated they were by Mrs. Herbert’s method of breaking the news. To everyone’s relief, Dr. Herbert came in.

  “James is dead,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice which braced everyone. “It was the bath. One of those old-fashioned ones with a marble step up to it. I don’t suppose the house has been touched since Lester’s people died. He must have slipped and hit his head and been killed instantaneously. I can’t say how sorry I am, Anna, for your parents. It will be a frightful shock to them. Otherwise I think you will all agree that it was the best thing. Come up with me, my dear,” he said to his wife. “I want you to see about a nurse and a few other things. Then we shall have to tell his parents,” he said to Colonel Beaton.

  “I’ll do that,” said Colonel Beaton. “And what about Francis? It is his house after all. I’d better send him a wire to Beechwood and ask him to tell Caroline, but that will do later. Hugh and Julia we needn’t trouble till tomorrow. After all James was no relation of theirs and it seems cruel to break their first day together with this sordid affair. And I will tell Wilfred and George. Let me know exactly what to say when you come down, Herbert.”

  Left alone, Colonel Beaton sat down by Anna.

  “I wish I felt sorrier,” said Anna. “It is all very horrible, but I can’t help a feeling of relief. It is my father and mother I am so sorry about. Wilfred going to Paris, James dead, it is almost like losing two sons. And Caroline can’t ever feel quite the same about living with us now. James’ death will make a kind of shadow. It will be lonely without her.”

  “Life is mostly loneliness.”

  “Yes, you will be lonely too. But you will be very busy in Father’s affairs now, so we shall see more of you, I hope.”

  “Anna,” said Colonel Beaton, looking at his watch, “while we have these few minutes to ourselves, I want to tell you how much I need you. I know this isn’t the moment with James dead upstairs, but I can’t choose my time. I need you so much. I’ve needed you for a long time.”

  Anna said, “Is it because you are lonely that you need me, William?”

  “No, my dear, I am lonely because I need you.”

  “Then never be lonely again.”

  “That is all we may be able to say for the time being,” said Colonel Beaton, quite satisfied and making no demonstration of love. “But now I feel a double right to help you, as your father’s partner and your husband. The time of marrying shall be for you to say. Whitelands is waiting for you, where you can be near your parents. From now onwards, for some time, we shall have to think of our duty to others, as you have always done, all the time I have known you. When those duties are done, it will be my privilege to think of you and to think for you as long as I live.”

  Then Dr. Herbert came into the room and all the confusion that cold silent death brings with it had to begin. Anna and Colonel Beaton went straight to Cadogan Square, leaving the Herberts in charge. Mrs. Danvers, at first stunned by the news, found relief in tears and lamentations, and reminiscences of James’ childish days till she consented to let Anna take her to her room.

  Colonel Beaton glanced at the clock. It was barely half-past one. So much had happened since Julia’s wedding, which now seemed a thing of the past. Mr. Danvers asked him to stay to lunch and he accepted, feeling that he might be a help. Anna came down, reporting that her mother was having a little lunch in bed and was calmer. No one could eat much. Mr. Danvers had said little and Anna was afraid for his strength.

  Presently, a nurse came to look after Mrs. Danvers and then Mr. Danvers said he would like to see James once more, so Colonel Beaton telephoned to Dr. Herbert. He also telephoned to the office to tell Wilfred and George.

  Then he and Mr. Danvers and Anna went to Francis’ house. Wilfred and George were already there with Mrs. Herbert, who asked them all to come upstairs. There on the bed lay the son, the brother, who had caused so much misery and anxiety. Mr. Danvers approached the bed and looked at the face of his eldest son. Then he knelt down by the bed in prayer. Wilfred and George, full of conflicting emotions, the old affection for their elder brother, the resentment and dislike which youth feels for death, remembrances of James as he used to be and as they had lately seen him, stood close together in silent accord. Anna closed her eyes and pressed her face against her William’s sleeve. A nurse who had appeared, asked in a low voice if the lady felt faint, but Colonel Beaton waved her away and putting his arm around Anna gave her the support she needed.

  When Mr. Danvers rose, they all went downstairs.

  “My wife and I cannot thank you and your wife enough,” said Mr. Danvers to Dr. Herbert, “for what you did for our poor son. You were old friends of his. We all grieve for what James became and we must forget much that was not his true self. Anna, my dear, we had better
go home to your mother.”

  Wilfred whispered to Anna that he and George were going back to the office, but would come at any moment if wanted, and gladly escaped.

  “Come round after dinner, Beaton,” said Mr. Danvers. “We shall be glad to see you.” And he got into a taxi with Anna and went away.

  Colonel Beaton then wrote a note to Hugh and Julia, telling them that it was quite unnecessary to interrupt their honeymoon. He had a thought to tell them about Anna, but decided to leave it till they returned. He felt no doubt as to his Julia’s pleasure.

  By the time Dr. Herbert had arranged for James’ body to be removed, it was getting late, so he asked the Herberts to come out to dinner with him. It was a pleasant meal. They all knew each other well enough not to pretend any deep grief for what had happened.

  “The person I feel sorriest for at the moment, apart from Mr. and Mrs. Danvers,” said Mrs. Herbert, “is Francis. It was quite bad enough to have James living in his house without his dying there. I suppose he will have got your wire by now, Colonel Beaton.”

  “I forgot it. Also, now I come to think of it, I don’t know if he is staying the night there or not. Herbert, if he does come back tonight you will explain to him, won’t you. And if he isn’t back, I will ring him up at Beechwood first thing tomorrow. Then he can bring Caroline up with him.”

  “How like a man,” said Mrs. Herbert. “Why on earth should poor Caroline who has suffered heaven knows what at his hands have to come up to her ex-husband’s funeral?”

  “Well, I really don’t know why she should.”

  “I really don’t know either why Francis should,” said Mrs. Herbert provocatively, “except that he has to come up for his business. Otherwise I would say he had much better stay where he is needed.”

  “With Caroline, do you mean?”

  Mrs. Herbert bowed her head majestically.

  “A decline is a good old-fashioned word,” said Dr. Herbert, eyeing his wine as he lifted it and sipping while he spoke, “but it is what Caroline will go into if she doesn’t settle down. I have looked after her since Francis brought her to Beechwood when that skunk James had done with her – bad taste I dare say to say skunk, but he is no longer in Francis’ house so it may be excused – and I know her. Dying for love is another old-fashioned exploded expression, but it is what she is capable of.”

  “Und mein Stamm sind jene Asra…” said Colonel Beaton, half to himself.

  “Quite right, Beaton. I used to think Hugh was the man, but I have felt for some time that it was Francis. With Francis and a handful of children you wouldn’t know her.”

  His wife who had been looking at him with suspicion, stretched out her hand and took away his glass.

  “You have exceeded,” she said, with great majesty. “When you get to gossiping about your patients it is time to stop.”

  Dr. Herbert laughed and Colonel Beaton called for the bill. He then drove them back to Francis’ house, keeping the taxi waiting to take him on to Cadogan Square. Voices in the dining room attracted his attention. He opened the door and looked in. Rose and a young woman of pleasant appearance who were sitting by the fire jumped up.

  “Friend of yours, Rose?” said Colonel Beaton. “Dr. and Mrs. Herbert have come back, so you’d better see if they want anything.”

  “I’m sorry I’m sure, sir,” said Rose, “but Miss Morton who works at the Rose and Crown just round the corner, a very respectable house, sir, came over to keep me company, it being her half day off. If I had known you would have been back so early, sir, I’m sure I wouldn’t have presumed, but I don’t fancy being alone much after what has happened, and that Maud and cook do get on my nerves downstairs.”

  “I would like some hot milk, Rose, before I go to bed,” said Mrs. Herbert, advancing into the room. “Good evening, Miss Morton.”

  “Good evening, madam,” said Miss Morton, who seemed to be a well-spoken young woman, “I hope I’m not intruding, but Miss Faggott asked me to step round.”

  The rest of the company gazed enthralled at Rose whose surname had previously been unknown to man.

  “You see, madam,” continued Miss Morton, pleased to have an audience, “the poor gentleman used to step across quite often to the private bar, but I never let him go too far, not more than a gentleman should. But what’s the good? He only went elsewhere.”

  “You are a reader, I see,” said Mrs. Herbert pleasantly as Miss Morton picked up her bag and a paper-covered book.

  “Cissies Companion, madam. A reel good paper,” said Miss Morton, her gentility leaving her as her enthusiasm mounted. “There’s a lovely serial running in it by Pearl Trotter. I’m a bit partickler about what I read, but she always writes splendid. Reel life, if you know what I mean. I’ve just got to the bit where the villain is offering Maisie a trip to Southend. Poor girl, she needs someone like me as knows the world a bit to tell her to mind her step. I do hope the worst won’t occur. I should mind ever so.”

  Mrs. Herbert’s heart beat in her bosom with high exaltation. Here at last was the reader of her dreams.

  “I can promise you that it will be all right,” she said, “because I wrote that story. I used to be on the stage under the name of Pearl Trotter so I use that name for writing.”

  As she spoke, Mrs. Herbert became aware that she had fallen to the lowest point of Rose’s estimation, but in her joy at discovering Miss Morton, Rose’s opinion was of complete indifference to her. Miss Morton’s gasp, her devouring eyes, her respectful mien, were honey to the authoress.

  “I’m very glad you like the story,” she continued graciously. “I’m going to have an even better one about a wicked baronet called Sir Morton Maltravers.”

  “Morton!” exclaimed the present bearer of that name in an awestruck voice.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Herbert, following up her advantage. “And mind you tell your friends to read it, any girl friends you have in your possession. I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

  “I will, Miss Trotter, madam I should say. I’ll tell Edna Pope that works with me. She’s a one for books. She says she can read anything on a Sunday.”

  Mrs. Herbert, intoxicated by fame, drew a fountain pen from her bag.

  “I will autograph your copy,” she said, writing a large “Pearl Trotter” on the cover. “And now, good night, Miss Morton.”

  “Pleased I’m sure,” said Miss Morton.

  Rose followed Mrs. Herbert out into the hall to which the two men, unable to keep from laughing, had retired.

  “If you please, madam, I should wish to give notice at once,” she said.

  “But you can’t,” said Mrs. Herbert, “I’m not your mistress.”

  “Then I would wish you to witness, madam, that I hand in my notice now and Mr. Francis will get it as soon as he comes back. Mr. Danvers was one thing, but having such a fuss made about Miss Morton is quite another. I am sure I read every bit as good as Miss Morton, besides which I remember Mr. Hugh and Mr. Francis when they was little boys and it isn’t likely I’ll stay after this.”

  “All right, Rose, you can go,” said Colonel Beaton.

  Rose looked at him, thought better of it, and slowly disappeared towards the kitchen.

  “There is one of Francis’ troubles solved,” said Colonel Beaton. “If Rose leaves, he can sell the house. Otherwise he would go on living here forever sooner than hurt her feelings. Goodbye, Mrs. Herbert. Goodbye, Herbert. I’ll see you again at Whitelands in a day or two, and many, many thanks.”

  At Cadogan Place, he found Mr. Danvers and Anna in the library. Wilfred and George had been at dinner and done their best to be cheerful, but their well-meant efforts were so embarrassing that Anna had whispered to them not to bother to come to the library unless they wanted to. So they had melted upstairs.

  “It is good of you to come, Beaton,” said Mr. Danvers. “My wife sends you messages, but she doesn’t feel equal to coming down. Her doctor has been to see her and I think she is to have a sleeping draught. When the funera
l is over she will feel better and perhaps I will take her and Anna abroad. I couldn’t have done that without you to take my place.”

  Colonel Beaton told them the story of Mrs. Herbert and Miss Morton, which amused them. He also broke the news of Rose’s departure, though without mentioning her reasons.

  “That is good luck,” said Anna. “Now Francis can sell the house and have a nice little house or a flat. Rose has been getting crosser and crosser for the last ten years, and he and Hugh didn’t dare to get rid of her. I must say she was always very nice to Caroline and me. But then we weren’t her mistresses.”

  “I hope to be back at business in a day or two, Beaton,” said Mr. Danvers. “Now those partnership deeds are signed we can settle things at the office and I shall be free to look after poor Evelyn for a time. I look forward to your help more than I can say, and to seeing more of you. Do you know, Beaton, I thought at one time that you were beginning to care for Caroline. One gets these fancies. Poor child, I hardly see what is to happen to her for the present. I shall see that she wants for nothing of course, but this will hardly be the home for her that it was till my wife is better.”

  “Caroline has very true friends,” said Colonel Beaton, “and I hope and believe she will be well looked after. I admire her greatly, sir, but we never have been, and never should have been more than excellent friends. You see I not only admire but love your daughter, and always have, so Caroline could only take second place.”

  Mr. Danvers looked puzzled. Anna, though trusting her William to do what was wisest, wondered whether the news would be too much for her father.

  “William, how can you perplex Father?” she said. “Dear Father, William wants to marry me and I can’t think of anyone else I would rather marry, so I hope you won’t mind. And we shan’t get married till you feel you can come to our wedding.”

  She stroked his hand in the old way as she sat on a cushion at his feet.

  “I couldn’t have wished better for you, my dear,” said her father, and he held out his hand to Colonel Beaton. “I am a bad match-maker. Do you know, my dear, I actually thought it was Francis that was in your mind. But this is all I could hope for. Bless you, my child.”