‘Is there a road between here and the house?’ he asked.
‘Just an old wood road. Do you know our New England wood roads? The woods, all around here, are crisscrossed with wood roads. If you take a walk through these woods, you’ll keep coming on them. They twist and wind around, through the woods. Woodcutters used them, years ago, and along all of them are the old stone walls. Sometimes I marvel at the stamina our New England ancestors must have had to build so many stone walls! They must have been extraordinary people, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Indeed they must have been.’
‘Some of the old roads we’ve cleared for bridle paths, for the horses. But not all. We always say that there are only two ways to get here, where we are now, from the house. And that’s by boat or by horseback! Oh, of course, they’ve driven in here with trucks and things, when we built this little guesthouse. But actually, the two best ways to get here are by boat or on horseback.’
‘It’s a beautiful spot,’ he said.
‘Thank you. We love it. Tell me, Mr. Greer,’ she said, smiling, ‘what are you studying at Princeton?’
‘Well, I plan to major in history,’ Carson told her.
‘History! Now isn’t that interesting! I don’t know whether Barbara told you or not, but my father was chairman of the History Department at Brown University.’
‘Yes, I believe Barbara mentioned it to me,’ he said.
‘Yes. It’s a pity my father is no longer living, because you would have enjoyed talking to him, I’m sure. He was a remarkable man, a true scholar. At his time, he was considered one of the best in his field.’
‘Is that so,’ Carson said.
‘Yes.’ She smiled again. ‘But I’m afraid you’ll find me rather poor at history. You see, I was brought up—in Providence—in, well, perhaps you’d call it the Old World way. My father thought that it was unnecessary for a woman to have a college education, though, of course, he considered it essential for a man. So history—except for a smattering of ancient history in boarding school—is a subject I’ve never really studied. Strange, isn’t it? That a history professor’s daughter should never have studied history? Well, all I can say is that I know you would have enjoyed my father.’
‘Yes, I’m sure I would have, ma’am,’ Carson said.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘do you enjoy Princeton?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Very much indeed. It’s a fine school.’
She laughed lightly. ‘I’m afraid you’ll find the loyalties are split in this family, Mr. Greer,’ she said. ‘My loyalties are, of course, to Brown. But Barbara’s father and most of his family are Yale. However,’ she said, ‘we shall try not to be too unfair toward Princeton while you are here!’
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said, smiling.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘you roomed with our cousin Woody, didn’t you?’
He felt his face redden slightly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘For one term.’
‘I thought that was what Barbara said.’
‘Things got—’ he hesitated. ‘Things got sort of switched around. They—well, you know how a dean’s office is. Changing things around. They switched us around, gave us new roommates.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Well, to be perfectly frank, if I were designing a college, I’d design it so that no one had a roommate. I mean, I think it’s difficult to share a room, and try to study with another person, don’t you? I think individual rooms would be far, far pleasanter. At the school I went to, for instance, there were individual rooms.’
‘Well,’ Carson said, ‘I think it all depends.’
‘Of course. It does depend.’ She raised her eyes and looked around at the others. ‘I was sorry Woody and his mother and father couldn’t come to our little picnic today. Woody hasn’t been feeling well.’
‘So—so I’ve heard,’ Carson said.
‘But he’s actually feeling much, much better. Did you meet Woody’s mother and father, ever, at Princeton?’
‘No, I never did,’ Carson said.
‘They’re both very dear people and we’re terribly fond of them. Leighton deWinter, Woody’s father, is a lawyer. He has an excellent legal mind. He does most of the legal work for our little company. And Mary-Adams, Woody’s mother, is an absolute angel of a person. She was Mary-Adams Woodcock, my husband’s cousin. Tell me,’ she said; turning to him with a bright smile, ‘does this family confuse you—so many cousins?’
He laughed politely. ‘Well, ma’am, you have more cousins than I do,’ he said.
‘Well, it’s really very simple. There were two brothers—my husband’s father and another brother, William, who is no longer living. William had two children, Mary-Adams and William, Junior. William, Junior, was killed, very sadly, in the last war, but you’ve met his wife, Victoria, today. My husband’s father had only one son, my husband. So there it is! That’s everyone! Simple isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I see now.’
‘Two members of the family whom you haven’t met are my husband’s parents, Barbara’s grandparents. They live in town and they’re both, I’m afraid, quite elderly, so they don’t come on our little picnics any more. But you must meet them. Perhaps, if you have a chance tomorrow, Barbara will drive you in to town to meet them.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I hope I’ll have a chance to do that.’
‘Of course,’ she said, frowning, ‘they’re difficult. I mean, they’re quite old. They’re both in their eighties, and old people are—well, difficult, sometimes, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose that’s true,’ he said.
‘Yes. And sometimes—I’m thinking of Barbara’s grandfather particularly—they say things that—that they don’t mean. Things that don’t sound kind. But, I suppose we must forgive old people for that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do,’ he said.
She looked up. ‘Well, here’s Barbara. I’ve bored you long enough, I’m sure, with talk of family.’
‘Not at all, Mrs. Woodcock!’ he protested earnestly.
‘You’re very kind,’ she said. ‘Now run along, the two of you. Barbara, take Mr. Greer for a walk along the lake, along the old wood road. I’ve been telling him about the old wood roads that are all through here.’
‘I’ve certainly enjoyed talking to you, Mrs. Woodcock,’ Carson said, standing up. ‘And I can’t thank you enough for asking me up this weekend.’
‘We’re delighted. Now run along, both of you, and have your walk. It will help you digest your lunch,’ she said.
He and Barbara walked side by side across the grass and when they reached the protective shelter of the trees he took her hand.
‘Well?’ she said eagerly, ‘Did you charm her off her pins?’
‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘I tried.’
‘What did she talk to you about? What questions did she ask you? You were talking for hours!’
‘Well, we talked about your family and how they fixed up the guesthouse, and—’
‘But what questions? Didn’t she give you the third degree?’
‘No, not really,’ he said.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘That’s good. That means the research was satisfactory.’
‘What research?’
‘I think you’ve been looked into,’ she said. ‘By my grandfather. He likes to keep tabs on what all of us do. When he heard you were coming up here, he got to work. I’m sure he got a full report—on you, your family, everything about you.’
He had been startled to hear this. ‘Is all that so important?’ he asked her. ‘Would things like that really make any difference?’
She laughed. ‘Not with you!’ she said. ‘Obviously, you’ve passed the test! He’s put a little “O.K.” next to your name! As long as that’s happened, it’s not important at all.’
‘What a funny thing,’ he said.
‘You don’t know my grandfather,’ she said.
‘Your mother said we ought t
o try to see him tomorrow.’
‘Well, let’s not try,’ she said. ‘If he calls us, of course we’ll have to. But let’s hope he won’t. I’d like to spare you that ordeal.’
‘Is it such an ordeal?’
‘He’s the patriarch,’ she said. ‘In this family we indulge in ancestor-worship—especially the living ancestors, like him. He’s the monster everyone’s terrified of. He terrifies me, too. He makes all the rules.’
‘I see,’ he said.
‘But I know he’ll like you, so there’s nothing to worry about. Mother liked you, and that’s the first thing.’
‘Do you think she did, Barbara?’ he asked her.
She laughed gaily, tossing her head. ‘Oh, I could tell!’ she said. ‘I could tell she liked you. I could tell by the expression on her face!’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, of course! Of course. She adores you. She thinks you’re the handsomest, most charming young man she ever met! And do you know why, Carson? Do you know why?’
‘No. Tell me why?’
‘Because you just kept nodding politely and smiling and letting her do all the talking! You idiot, didn’t you know that’s the only way in the world to charm a girl’s mother?’ With her hand still in his she circled his waist with her arm, drawing him closer, and for a moment he felt unsteady and almost deliriously happy, thinking he might very easily collapse on his knees to the ground. ‘You were wonderful!’ she said, and they walked very slowly, kicking the dried leaves and twigs with their toes under the deep green shade of the trees, saying nothing, and he looked upward, into the branches above, feeling tears in his eyes.
And a few moments later he stopped her, turned her toward him, and kissed her. She looked at him wordlessly, her face grave and anxious, for a long time. Then they continued slowly, arm in arm, along the path through the trees, saying nothing.
Presently they came to a spot of open sunlight and she separated herself from him, ran across the grass, and lay down on her back, looking up and laughing. She reached for a long blade of grass and placed it between her teeth and the folds of her white cotton dress lay all along the contours of her body. ‘Do I look like the constant nymph?’ she asked him.
‘Better,’ he said.
‘Better than Joan Fontaine? Really?’
‘Much better,’ he said. He knelt beside her.
‘That’s nice to hear,’ she said. ‘Say it again.’
‘Much better,’ he said.
She put her head on one side. ‘I’m worried about my morals,’ she said.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Don’t you know why?’
‘Well, perhaps.’
‘I do worry. It scares me. What are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said huskily.
‘I know right from wrong,’ she said.
‘So do I.’
‘I know you do. But that doesn’t help. Does it?’
‘Not much,’ he said.
‘We can’t get married,’ she said. ‘We’re too young.’
‘I know.’
‘No one would hear of it, would they? Your family or my family? It’s quite impossible …’
‘Yes.’
‘I think we’re in love.’
‘Yes,’ he said. And, bending over her so that her face was in his shadow, he said huskily, ‘I adore you.’
She looked up at him. ‘What a funny thing to say!’
‘I adore you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because—’ she shivered slightly. ‘Because—I don’t know. If you had said, “I love you,” I wouldn’t have been surprised.’
‘But adoring,’ he said, ‘is more.’
‘I know,’ she said faintly. ‘And it’s just what—just what I wanted you to say.’ And now there were tears in her eyes.
‘Barbara—’
‘We’ve got to get back,’ she said. Abruptly she stood up. ‘If we don’t get back soon, they’ll start looking for us.’
He stood up also and they started back through the woods toward the picnic.
Just before they reached the edge of the clearing where the family was gathered, she stopped him with her hand. ‘Carson?’ she said.
‘Yes?’
‘You do love me, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it’s mature love, isn’t it? Grown-up love, not like children.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
She breathed deeply, ‘Yes. I think so, too.’ And then: ‘Carson—’
‘Yes?’
She pointed. ‘The guesthouse. There’s—there’s a key to it.’
He whispered, ‘Is there?’
‘Yes. Tonight, we could go there.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
They were not looking at each other, and after a moment he said, ‘When?’
‘When?’
‘I mean, what time?’
‘Whatever time,’ she said. ‘Whatever time—is best.’
‘You mean when people are—’
‘Yes, when the house is quiet.’
‘All right,’ he said.
‘Walk down to the lake and take one of the canoes.’
‘Yes,’ he said.
She looked at him doubtfully. ‘Unless—’
‘No,’ he said, trying to make his voice sound casual. ‘No, let’s do that.’
‘All right,’ she said.
Then, quickly, they started across the grass toward the others.
Late that afternoon he had gone to the pool alone for a swim. As he went down the stone steps he saw Peggy Woodcock. She sat on the tip of the diving board, trailing her feet in the blue water. At fourteen she had been thin and gangly, with legs and arms that seemed too long for the rest of her body. She was wearing, he remembered, a black two-piece bathing suit the top portion of which still appeared to be unnecessary; and her boyish face, shoulders and arms seemed to be composed of one continuous freckle. She had looked like a girl made of tortoise shell and her short dark hair stood out in damp, angry points all round her head. She was smoking a cigarette, dropping her ashes into the pool. ‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ Carson said.
With a stiff-fingered gesture she drew the cigarette to her lips, frowned, sucked in on it, and immediately exhaled a noisy stream of smoke. Another ash fell and disintegrated in the water.
‘Been smoking long?’ Carson asked her, smiling.
‘Three years,’ she said, not looking at him but scowling at the surface of the pool. ‘It’s a filthy habit.’
He said nothing. After a moment, she said, ‘I know what you’re wondering.’
‘Really? What?’ he asked.
‘You’re wondering why my hair looks the way it does.’
‘I wasn’t, really,’ he said. ‘But now that you mention it, why does it?’
‘It’s a butch haircut that’s growing out,’ she said.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘I gave myself a butch haircut. Mother had a conniption! My God!’ she said, and laughed. ‘But there’s nothing she can do now except wait for it to grow out.’
He sat down at the edge of the pool. ‘That was a nice picnic today,’ he said.
‘Oh?’ she said. ‘Did you think so?’
‘Yes. Very nice.’
‘Ha!’ she said.
‘Why? What was wrong with it?’
‘Conspicuous consumption!’ she said.
Oh?’
‘Yes. Haven’t you read Thorstein Veblen for God’s sake?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t say as I have.’
‘Ye gods!’ she said. ‘Well, he’s just about God, if you ask me. I mean, what about all that champagne, and all the servants and things? I mean, ye gods, how conspicuous can you get at a picnic? The trouble with this family is,’ she said, ‘is that nobody feels any obligation to wealth. Now, in my opinion, wealth imposes a duty and an obligation on the wealthy, and if you’re just going to waste it,
and fritter it, then it ought to revert to the poor. And things like these picnics of Mother’s, well, just how leisure-class-ish can you get?’
‘I see,’ he said.
She flipped one leg over the diving board and settled herself facing him. ‘Where’s Barbara?’ she asked.
‘In the house. Changing her clothes.’
‘Aha!’ she said. ‘You see what I mean? There’s an example? What’s she changing her clothes for, for God’s sake? What’s wrong with the dress she had on? Do you see what I mean?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not quite.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘Barbara and I have completely incompatible ideologies.’
‘Oh,’ he said.
‘But of course. Now she seems to feel that wealth is to be enjoyed, that’s all. Whatever comes, she accepts. She’s a very accepting sort of person. Talk about, “she spins not, neither does she reap,” ye gods! That’s Barbara all right. Now I, on the other hand, firmly believe that those of us who are born into this world more fortunate than others have a heightened obligation to our fellow man. I mean we should work, produce, contribute in order to deserve the luxuries we’ve got! Not just laze around all day and be fed like a fish. Ye gods!’
‘In other words,’ Carson said, ‘the money should only go to those who work for it.’
‘Not exactly,’ she said. ‘My personal theory is that those who have the money have got to work to keep it. If they can’t, then it should be distributed among those who can work. So I’m not a Communist. In fact I think my theory’s far more advanced. I call myself a dynamic capitalist. Dynamic means active. I think that under our capitalistic system it should be worked out that only those who produce according to their means get to keep their means. If they produce, it means more employment and better living conditions for the working classes. But the thing we’ve got to get rid of is the sponges. Do you see what I mean?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think so.’
‘What do you think of my theory?’
‘Well, I’d have to give it some thought,’ he said.
‘Yes. Of course it’s highly revolutionary and unheard of, but I’m planning to write a book on it and make it all very clear,’ she said. She took a final pull on her cigarette, spat out the smoke, and tossed the butt into the grass. ‘You’re positively loony about Barbara, aren’t you?’
Barbara Greer Page 22
