The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche

by de la Roche, Mazo

  “Thank you,” she said simply, then added in a forthright tone, “Roma will never settle down here now that she has this money. Something has got to be done about her.”

  “She’ll do what she is told,” Renny said curtly.

  Alayne had been looking thoughtful. Now she said, “I have an idea. I will get into touch with my old friend, Rosamund Trent, and ask her advice. She has lived in New York all her life. She will know what opportunities there are. She will give us just the advice we need.”

  “Splendid,” said Meg.

  Renny frowned. “It seems strange that these girls can’t get on together.”

  “There will always be trouble where Roma is,” said Meg.

  Renny saw Roma, where she was standing with a group of the young people, and called to her. “Roma, come here!”

  She moved slowly across the dew-wet grass to them.

  This evening was the first time that she had encountered Adeline since the violent scene by the lake. At table they had been seated at a distance from each other, but on the lawn they came face to face. A brightness of rage kindled in Adeline’s eyes. For very little, she felt, she would have attacked Roma physically. She would have caught Roma in her fierce hands and beaten her. But Roma looked large-eyed and sad, as though puzzled to know what all this was about. Patience, with little Mary by the hand, came and stood beside them, with a troubled smile. There was something magnificent in Patience’s own self, as though she would guard all three.

  The young male cousins, who had formed themselves into another group, consisting of Piers’s three sons, Renny’s son, and Finch’s, now moved to join the girls. So, in the light of an enormous harvest moon that had just risen above the treetops, the nine cousins were in front of the house. The house, which had the look of sinking into its clustering vine, as though for the comfort of a night’s repose, now might have been imagined to rouse itself, to take a good look at the new generation of Whiteoaks displayed before it. How did these compare, it might have considered, with those who had reached maturity — with Meg, Renny, Piers, Finch, and Wakefield? How did they compare with those whose gravestones, in the churchyard, this same harvest moon emblazoned? They will do, the old house appeared to say, they will do.

  Young Philip could not contain his exuberance. He bent, put his palms on the grass and raised his legs, clad in white duck trousers, straight into the air. He walked on his hands.

  Renny’s voice, calling to Roma, drew her from her cousins.

  “Roma,” Renny said, looking down at her with rather a puzzled expression, “why do you want to go to New York?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” she asked, with a cool glance, about halfway up his height.

  “My God!” he exclaimed, and burst out laughing.

  “For a visit,” said Meg, “that’s natural. But you want to stay?”

  “I want to learn something.”

  “You can learn all you need to know in Canada,” said Renny.

  “You can’t be so expert in fashions.”

  “I think Roma is right.” Alayne spoke with unusual warmth toward Roma. “For the particular line she wants to take up there’s no place like New York.”

  “She can’t go alone,” said Renny, weakening.

  “I have been thinking that I might go with her. As I have said, I can get the best advice from my friend Rosamund Trent, and can arrange for a boarding-place — the sort of place suitable for a young girl.”

  Roma said nothing but looked in acquiescence from one face to the other while they discussed plans.

  “One great obstacle,” said Alayne, “is that the Wragges are leaving so soon. I should be here.”

  “Don’t worry yourself on that score.” Renny gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “We shall manage. There’s no dear old uncle to be waited on now. And our visitors are gone.”

  “I should engage a cook before I leave, but you could not be expected to take her in hand — nor could Adeline.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Meg. “I’ll come and help. We shall get along famously.” She saw Finch wandering about, with an iced drink in his hand, and went to join him.

  “Finch, dear,” she said in her warm motherly voice, “we have just been arranging for Alayne to take Roma to New York. It’s really kind of her, don’t you think? The child is determined to go. Perhaps you’ve heard.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard.”

  “Her going will leave only Patience and me to live with you.”

  “Yes. That’s true.”

  “Finch, what is puzzling me is why you don’t have those empty bedrooms furnished. Surely there’s a reason.”

  “I have a room ready for Dennis.”

  “I know, and you have Mooey occupying it, which is annoying to his parents, for naturally they want their own son at home, and hard on poor little Dennis, who longs to be with you — just as I long to be with you.”

  “I know.” He took a mouthful of the cooling drink. “I know, and I’ll arrange it all — in time.”

  Meg spoke with an older sister’s firmness. “Your habit of procrastination is growing on you, Finch. Indecision and procrastination — when you have so much need of resolution and promptness, haven’t you?”

  “I have,” he agreed, “and I’ll get those rooms finished very soon.”

  “I’d gladly bring my own furniture, but, as you say — though I cannot quite agree with you — it’s rather large and Victorian for your type of house — though you do seem to like my little occasional table.”

  “It’s a very useful little table,” he said eagerly.

  “I think” — there was a hint of reproach in her voice — “that it is something more than merely useful.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he hastened to add.

  XIX

  Departures

  DURING THE FOLLOWING fortnight there was a bustle of preparation at Jalna. The Wragges were preparing for their prolonged holiday in England. Alayne was putting Archer’s clothes in order for school and was at the same time making arrangements for taking Roma to New York. Though so much unhappiness had been the occasion of this journey, Alayne as always experienced a feeling of exhilaration in the prospect of visiting that city and of again renewing old friendships. She was a lively correspondent and regularly exchanged letters with her friends.

  Never before had she and Roma travelled together. Now they were drawn into an odd, uneasy intimacy. The girl would come to Jalna at all sorts of hours to ask Alayne’s advice about this or that. She would remain in Alayne’s bedroom, talking in desultory fashion or silently watching Alayne’s preparations. Adeline took care to keep out of the way when Roma was in the house.

  The day came when Archer and Dennis left for school. Philip left for the Royal Military College. On top of this came the almost unbelievable departure of the Wragges, though they declared that a return to Canada was probable within a year. Two days later Alayne and Roma left for New York.

  Renny and Piers went with them to the train. It was Roma’s first long journey from home, but she looked cooler and less flurried than Alayne. Alayne had had so much to attend to, was leaving such an uncertain domestic situation behind her. She pictured a succession of household tragedies in her absence, even while she despised herself for having become no more than a housewife. If only the Wragges had been in charge as of old! when it had come to parting, an atmosphere of sentimentality, almost on his part to the point of tears, had enfolded them. “Me and my missus will never forget our happy days at Jalna,” Rags had said.

  When the train pulled out from the station and she and Roma found themselves facing each other in their compartment, their hand luggage beside them, Alayne had a sense of unreality. Surely Roma was the last person with whom she would have expected to find herself travelling. However, Roma appeared not to find anything strange about it. She gave Alayne a wide, cheerful smile, showing her beautiful white teeth behind her vivid red lips, and remarked that the compartment was nice.

  How st
range it was, thought Alayne, that she should be taking Roma to New York — where she and Roma’s father had first met. That had been twenty-six years ago. Eden ... how brilliantly good-looking he had been ... how devastatingly attractive to her. She had been swept into marriage by that attraction, as a becalmed sailing boat by a wind from the north. But what a short while it had lasted. Her passion for Renny had been its undoing.

  She tried to trace a resemblance to Eden in the young face opposite. But there was nothing to remind her of Eden and she was glad of that. Let his image remain untouched.

  Every time their eyes met, Roma gave her a confident friendly look. “Just as though we were new acquaintances,” thought Alayne, “and liked one another and had no past behind us at Jalna.”

  They chatted cheerfully as they undressed together.

  * * *

  Renny and Piers talked little as they drove homeward. Renny was a consistently erratic and nervous driver. He hated his car; and, to judge by its behaviour, his car hated him.

  Now and again an exclamation of warning or of protest would be forced from Piers, but when they reached the quiet of their country road he relaxed and remarked in a meditative tone, “Things have taken an odd turn, haven’t they?”

  “They have. Nothing is like it was at the beginning of summer.” But though he spoke even more seriously than Piers, his expression was resigned. He took out a cigarette and lighted it. “I have important things to see to,” he said. “I must engage a trainer for the colt. I’ve heard of a first-rate man who is free. He’s expensive, but if you’re going to do a thing you might as well do it properly, eh?”

  Piers said nothing but gave him an amused, a very understanding look.

  “The trainer is named Kelly. My friends Crowdy and Chase are bringing him to Jalna tomorrow morning. It’s pretty certain that I shall engage him.”

  “Well, let’s hope this turns out well. You run the risk of losing a lot of money.” And Piers could not resist adding, “It’s a good thing Alayne is out of the way.”

  “Alayne never interferes,” Renny returned stiffly.

  “She knows it’s no damned use,” laughed Piers.

  They were now nearing Jalna. Renny asked, “Shall I drive you home or will you come in and take potluck with Adeline and me?”

  “I promised to be home. Pheasant has some special dish. We had better pick Adeline up and the two of you come to us.”

  “Thanks. Another time.” After a little he exclaimed: “I hope Roma behaves herself in New York. God, I’m grateful to her! If it hadn’t been for her I might have had Fitzturgis on my hands for the rest of my days.”

  “He’d never have stuck it out here.”

  “But he might have taken Adeline away with him.”

  “Someone else will do that, you may be sure.”

  “Not if I can prevent it.”

  “Do you know,” said Piers, “I should rather hate to be your son-in-law.”

  “Let Adeline marry the right sort of fellow and he’ll find me easy to get on with.”

  “I wish,” said Piers, “that young Philip were older and that he and Adeline might marry. What a pair! Our grandparents right over again.”

  “‘The trouble is that girls seem to have such poor judgment.... I’ve seen that happen time and again in my life.”

  “Well,” Piers spoke with some warmth, “I don’t see anything wrong in Pheasant’s choice.”

  “It’s turned out all right,” said Renny cryptically.

  There was a somewhat prickly silence till they were passing Vaughanlands. Then Renny remarked, “I can’t get used to the sight of that modern little house. The old house, while it had no distinction, was a landmark. It had meaning for us. This house has none.”

  “It has plenty for Finch.”

  “Meg is longing to go and look after him.”

  “He doesn’t want her. No more than he wants Dennis. He prefers my tippling son. Finch is a queer fellow.”

  Soon Piers was set down at his own gate and Renny turned the car in the direction of Jalna.

  How strangely empty the house was! Doors and windows stood open, and the cool quietness of the evening had moved in, as though to take possession. The window curtains were gently drawing and withdrawing with a soft flapping sound. There was no sign of Adeline or of the dogs. Renny mounted the stairs and looked in at the door of Alayne’s room. That room, usually in such fastidious order, now had a strangely dishevelled appearance, the silk coverlet rumpled, the floor strewn with paper wrappings, the door of the clothes cupboard standing ajar. Always Alayne left her room tidy, but in these last days there had seemed so little time for all she had to do.

  Empty rooms everywhere. Nicholas’s room closed in, silent, secluded. Renny had a sense of foreboding. Never could he remember having been alone in the house.

  Suddenly from the basement came the sound of the dogs’ barking. He ran down the stairs, down the basement stairs, into the kitchen. The lights were on. Here indeed was life and animation. Adeline was there, an apron tied about her middle, a pucker of anxiety on her forehead. The dogs were there, watching her every movement, getting in her way, getting in each other’s way, acutely conscious of a meal preparing at an unusual time, of a change in the order of things.

  “I thought you’d be hungry,” she said. “I thought I’d scramble eggs and make some coffee.”

  “I’m devilish hungry. I hope you are too.”

  “I’m starving. Funny, it’s the first time I’ve been hungry since....” She did not finish the sentence.

  “Good girl,” he said.

  He watched her moving about the kitchen, so light, so strong, so restored to him, as it were, from peril. She was very like, he felt sure, to that older Adeline when she had descended to inspect these basement rooms at the time of the building of the house. But — what different clothes — what a different world! Tonight this present world seemed very good to him. He whistled softly as he beat the eggs.

  They sizzled in the frying pan. Adeline was making coffee. “Funny,” she remarked, “how you seem to know just how things should be done, till you try to do them yourself. I wonder how much coffee to a person.”

  “Two tablespoons.”

  “How long should it stew?”

  “About ten minutes.”

  “Good. Will you have tomatoes with your eggs?”

  “Yes. And olive oil on them.”

  “Would you like some sliced peaches and cream?”

  “I certainly should. Come and have a look at the eggs. They’re nice and fluffy.”

  Together they bent over the sizzling eggs. The coffee bubbled in the pot. The dogs were almost beside themselves with anxiety.

  “Oh, Daddy,” cried Adeline, “I should have heated a covered dish for the eggs! They’ll be cold by the time I have set the table and carried them up to the dining room. Where is the large tray? where is the butter? The eggs are burning! The coffee is boiling over! where does Rags keep things? Dogs— get out of the way! Oh, Daddy!” Quite suddenly she was distraught. She walked in a circle, the frying pan in her hand.

  Renny had seen meals prepared under greater difficulties than this. He said decisively, “No need to worry. We’ll eat down here in the kitchen.”

  She opened her eyes wide. “Oh, heavenly! I’ll run up and get a tablecloth.”

  “We’ll not need one. Dish up the eggs.”

  “Better and better!” She laughed in relief.

  A generous helping was served on the two plates. Father and daughter drew up the chairs which for so many years had seated the Wragges. They filled their mouths with scrambled eggs and hot buttered toast. The aroma of the bubbling coffee blessed the air.

  “If your mother could see us!” exclaimed Renny.

  “She’d not believe her own eyes.”

  “It goes to show,” he said, “that conventions are only on the surface.”

  “Not with Mummy.”

  “Not with her — God bless her.” Then he adde
d with great seriousness, “You have a wonderful mother, Adeline. We should — both of us — appreciate what an effort she made in taking Roma to New York. Particularly at a time like this.”

  “Oh, I do appreciate it. Still, it’s nice for Mummy to get away sometimes — from everything.”

  “It certainly is.” He spoke with a heartiness that suggested the possible benefit to those left behind, of being for a time left to their own devices.

  Adeline now produced an eleven-quart basket of large, ripe tomatoes and a six-quart basket of richly tinted peaches. These she set on a side table. Each selected the tomato the most appealing, sliced it, smothered it in olive oil. Neither appeared to remember how carefully Mrs. Wragge had skinned, garnished with slices of cucumber, and chilled the tomatoes before sending to table, but ate them straight from the basket with relish. It was the same with the peaches. Greedily they chose the biggest and most richly coloured, sliced and smothered them in cream. Adeline produced Mrs. Wragge’s final achievement, a pan of currant buns. The coffee, though a trifle bitter, had power in it. The meal was, in truth, a picnic. Neither did it lack conversation. This was centred on the colt, the difficulties to be faced in his training, the brilliant possibilities of his future. The possibility of failure was never mentioned.

  They sat long over the meal, each with an abundant pleasure in the nearness of the other. It was as though they had been long separated and come together again. When Adeline rose from the table to wait on him she would bend to touch his hair with her cheek or lay her hand for an instant against his sunburnt nape.

  The dogs, in sudden good manners, awaited docilely till their turn came. The fact that they had been already well fed that day meant nothing to Adeline. Each was given some of the scrambled eggs, a little bread and butter, and a piece of cake. Surfeited, they stretched themselves on the floor to sleep.

  “Now,” said Adeline, “for the dishes.”

  “Let’s leave them till the morning.”

  “No,” she declared sturdily, “there’s to be no shirking. I shall do the dishes now.”