A Family and a Fortune

by Ivy Compton-Burnett

  ‘I am. She told me. But there are things which cannot pass my lips.’

  ‘It must be over thirty years.’

  ‘You are a tougher creature than I am. I wonder if people know that you are.’

  ‘It is difficult to form a picture of all those years.’

  ‘Edgar, you do sometimes say the most dreadful things. You should remember my shrinking nature. I shall have to see a great deal of Miss Griffin. Will seeing her take away that picture before my eyes?’

  ‘Come along, you two,’ called Justine, turning with beckoning hand. ‘If you wait every minute to argue, we shall never get up the drive. Mother does not like to keep stopping.’

  That was true of Blanche, and therefore she had not stopped, but was proceeding towards the house, with her short, unequal steps carrying her rapidly over the ground.

  When she came to the porch she paused, as if waiting there affected her differently.

  ‘There is that little brick house beyond the trees,’ said Justine, turning to look back as they all met.

  ‘Your eyes do not deceive you,’ said her father, with a smile.

  ‘Now don’t try to snub me, Father; that is not like your dealings. There it is, and it is good to think of Grandpa and Aunt Matty snugly sheltered in it. I shall call up the picture tonight when I am in bed.’

  ‘At night,’ murmured Dudley, ‘and in bed! In those hours when things rise up before us out of their true proportion!’

  ‘What are you murmuring about to yourself, Uncle?’

  ‘About the picture which you will call up in the night.’

  ‘You like to share it with me? It is a pretty picture, isn’t it? Dear Grandpa, with his white hair and fine old face; and Aunt Matty, handsome in the firelight, vivacious and fluent, and no more querulous than one can forgive in her helpless state; and dear, patient Miss Griffin, thinking of everyone but herself. It is a satisfying sight.’

  ‘Perhaps it is healthier to bring it out into the light.’

  ‘You were the one who did not forgive your aunt,’ said Edgar, smiling again at his daughter.

  ‘Now, Father, don’t think that your naughty little thrusts are atoned for by your especial smile for me, dear to me though it is.’ Edgar’s expression wavered as he heard it defined. ‘Aunt Matty and I are the firmest friends and very good for one another. We never mind looking at ourselves through each other’s eyes and getting useful light on our personalities. I do not believe in putting disabled people on one side and denying them their share in healthy human life. It seems to me a wrong thing to do, and in the end bad for everyone. So I sound my bracing note and snap my fingers at the consequences.’ Justine illustrated what she said.

  The scene in the lodge was as she saw it, except that Matty’s querulousness was missing. The latter was sitting at dinner, talking with a great liveliness, as if her audience were larger than it was, almost as if in practice for greater occasions. She often threw herself into the entertainment of her father and her companion, with or without thought of imaginary listeners.

  ‘And then those funny, little, country shoes! Dear Blanche, still full of her quaint, little, old touches! I had to laugh to myself when I saw her come tripping and stumbling in, such a dear, familiar figure!’

  ‘No one would have known you had,’ said Oliver. ‘It might have been better to give some sign. It seemed the last thing to expect of you.’

  Matty was indifferent to her father’s criticism and knew that her talk diverted him.

  ‘And then her own little, charitable ways, a mixture of daughter and sister and lady bountiful! So full of affection and kindness and yet with her own little sharpness, just our old Blanche! And her dear Justine’ - Matty put her hand to her lips and fell into mirth - ‘so sure of her right to improve us all and so satisfied with it! So pleased with her effort to influence her aunt, who has faced so much more than she could conceive! Dear child, may she never even have to attempt it. Well, we are not all alike and perhaps it is as well. Perhaps it is good that we are all on our different steps in the human scale. And there are good things on each level. In some ways we might take a leaf out of her book.’

  ‘We might, but I do not think of it, and I do not ask it of you.’

  ‘It is naughty to say it, but does she remind you of that church worker at home? Someone so good and useful that everyone loved her and no one admired her? Now how unkind and malicious! I am quite ashamed.’

  ‘Have I met a person of that kind?’

  ‘You must remember poor Miss Dunn at home.’

  ‘Why should I single her out of all that I remember? And how could I guess her employment?’

  ‘The coat and the collar and the shoes,’ said Matty, again in mirth.

  ‘They both wear such things, I grant you. I do the same and shall do it still for a short time.’

  ‘Poor Miss Griffin, you were the target. You might have been a little dark slave or a wee beastie in a trap, from the way she spoke. We do not move every day, do we? It has only been once in thirty years.’

  Miss Griffin felt that there was some reproach in the rareness of the step, though she would willingly have taken it oftener.

  ‘She meant to be very kind, I am sure.’

  ‘She meant to be a little stern with me, just a tiny bit severe. But I did not mind. She is my dear, good niece and wants to improve the world and the people in it, Aunt Matty into the bargain.’

  ‘They might be the better for it,’ said Oliver, ‘but it is not her business.’

  ‘She feels it is, and so we must let her do it. We must take it up as a funny little cross and carry it with us.’

  ‘Why do that? Why not close her mouth upon things which are not her concern? That is a thing you can do. I have observed it.’

  ‘Edgar is a handsome man,’ said Matty in another tone. ‘He was very tall and distinguished in this little room. Oh, wasn’t it funny, the way they kept talking about it? Calling it snug and cosy. We might be cottagers.’

  ‘That is what we are, though your sister did not allow it.’

  ‘And Justine said that she was glad we were safe in it. We had no other refuge, had we?’

  ‘I cannot tell you of one. So we have our cause for thankfulness. But it is not for her to point it out. She seems to me to have greater cause.’

  ‘Mr Gaveston and Mr Dudley are not so much alike when you get to know them,’ said Miss Griffin.

  ‘They are of the same type, but Mr Gaveston is the better example,’ said Matty, who maintained the full formal distance between herself and her companion, in spite of her habit of frankness before her.

  ‘I like Mr Dudley’s face better.’

  ‘Do you? It is not the better face. It has not the line or the symmetry. It is a thought out of drawing. But they are a fine pair of brothers.’

  ‘There is something in Mr Dudley’s face that makes it quite different from Mr Gaveston’s, I hardly know how to say what I mean.’

  ‘That might be said of any two people. They are not just alike, of course.’

  ‘Mr Dudley’s face has a different kind of attraction.’

  ‘There is only one kind, of the one we were talking of,’ said Matty in a tone which closed the subject.

  ‘Miss Griffin has found another,’ said Oliver, ‘or has fancied it. But why talk of the fellows’ looks? They are not women. And both of you are, so it is wise to leave the matter.’

  ‘Was Mr Dudley talking to you outside?’ said Matty in a sudden, different tone to Miss Griffin.

  ‘No - yes - he just said a word, and then went out to look at the night, into the porch,’ said Miss Griffin, who told a falsehood when she could see no other course.

  Oliver had heard the voices in the hall, but he did not speak. He never crossed the barrier into the women’s world. If he had done so, he would have had to protect Miss Griffin and anger his daughter; and he felt unequal to either of these things, which would have tried the strength of a younger man.

  ‘Di
d you notice the way they set off home?’ said Matty, with a return of mirth. ‘I saw them from the window. My eyes are still alert for what they can see, though I am tied to my chair. Blanche leading the way, and Justine trying to keep up and to keep step, and failing in both in spite of her youth and her strength! And the two men walking behind, as tranquil as if they were unconscious of the feminine creatures in front! Blanche leading a group is one of my earliest memories. Her stiff, little legs marching on, how they come back to me! And they are so little different, the active, determined, little legs. How much of her height is in her body! Well, my legs are not so much to boast of now. I have not my old advantage. Dear, dear, it is a funny thing, a family. I can’t help feeling glad sometimes that I have had no part in making one.’

  ‘Why try to help it? It is well to be glad of anything, and you do not too often seem so. Though some people might not choose just that reason.’

  ‘Well, mine is not a lot which calls for much gladness. It needs some courage to find any cause for it.’

  ‘So courage is the word for your talk of your sister. We could find others.’

  ‘Blanche and I are the closest friends. I am going to rejoice in being the elder sister again. You and she are the only people who see me as I was, and not as I am, the poor, baffled, helpless creature who has to get her outlet somehow. Yes, I was bright and young once. Even Miss Griffin remembers part of that time.’

  ‘Yes, indeed I do; indeed you were,’ said Miss Griffin.

  ‘Miss Griffin was even younger,’ said Oliver, bringing a new idea to both his hearers as he rose to leave them.

  ‘Yes, I was a naughty, sprightly person,’ continued Matty after a moment’s pause, during which the idea left her. ‘Always looking for something on which to work my wits. Something or someone; I fear it did not matter as long as my penetration had its exercise. Well, we can’t choose the pattern on which we are made. And perhaps I would not alter mine. Perhaps there is no need to meddle with it, eh, Miss Griffin?’

  Miss Griffin was standing with her hand on her chair, thinking of the next step in her day. She gave a faint start as she realized her plight and saw the look on Matty’s face. The next moment she heard her voice.

  ‘Don’t go dragging away from the table like that. Either move about and get something done, or don’t pretend to do anything. Just posing as being a weary drudge will not get us anywhere.’

  ‘Perhaps the things which have made me that, have got us somewhere,’ said Miss Griffin, in an even, oddly hopeless tone, with little idea that the words on her lips marked a turning point in her life.

  ‘You need not answer like that. That is not going to begin, so you need not think it is. I do not expect to have my words taken up as if I were a woman on the common line. I am a very exceptional person and in a tragic position, and you will have to grasp it, or you are no good to me. And going off in that way, pretending not to hear, taking advantage of my helplessness! That is a thing of such a dreadful meanness that no one would speak to you if he knew it; no one would go near you; you would be shunned and spat upon!’

  Matty’s voice rose to a scream, as her words did nothing and Miss Griffin passed out of hearing. She rocked herself to and fro and muttered to herself, with her hands clenched and her jaw thrust forward in a manner which would have made a piece of acting and really had something of this in it, as she did not lose sight of herself.

  Miss Griffin went along the passage and paused at the end where the wall made a support, and looked to see that Matty had not followed.

  ‘It is all I have. Just this. I have nothing else. I have no home, no friends. I go on, year after year, never have any pleasure, never have any change. She feels nothing for me after I have been with her for thirty years. All the best years of my life. And it gets worse with every year. I thought this move might make a change, but it is going to be the same. And my life is going; I may never have anything else; and no one ought to have only that.’ She shed some tears, scanty through fear and furtiveness, and lightening her face and throwing off a part of her burden, went into the kitchen to the maid, glad of this degree of human fellowship.

  Matty, left to herself, relaxed her body and her mind and hoped that her father had not heard her voice, or rather recalled that he would behave as if he had not done so. When Oliver came from his study to bid her a good night, she rose to meet him, hiding what she could of her lameness, and led him to a chair, amending both his and her own conception of herself.

  ‘I come to take my leave of you, my dear, in case I do not see you again. My end may come at any time and why not tonight? The strength ebbs after dark and I have used too much of mine today. So good night and more, if that is to be.’

  ‘Come, Father, you are overtired and depressed by being in this funny little place. Cosy we are to call it, and we will do our best. We have to try to do so many things and in time we shall succeed. We are not people who fail. We will not be.’

  ‘I am almost glad that your mother is not here tonight, Matty. This would not have been a home for her. It will do for you and me.’

  ‘I don’t know why we should be so easily satisfied,’ said Matty, unable to accept this view of herself in any mood. ‘But we shall have another outlook tomorrow and it will seem a different place, and we shall wish Mother back with us, as I have wished her many times today.’ Her father must pay for using such words of his daughter. ‘But we can’t do anything more tonight. We have striven to our limit and beyond. It is no wonder if we fail a little. I daresay we have all had our lapses from our level.’

  Oliver, who was in no doubt of it, left her and mounted the stairs, bringing his feet together on each. In his room above the step became stronger, and Matty listened and put him from her mind. She understood her father. A good deal of him had come down to her.

  Miss Griffin came in later with a tray, to find Matty in an attitude of drooping weariness, with a pallor which was real after her stress of feeling.

  ‘Will you have something hot to drink?’ she said in a tone which seemed to beseech something besides what it said. ‘It will do you good before you go to bed.’

  ‘It will do us both good. It was a sensible thought. If you will bring up that little table and move that chair’ - Matty indicated with vivacious hand this further effort for Miss Griffin - ‘we will have a cosy time together and feel that we are doing what we should, as cosy is what we are supposed to be.’

  ‘It really is rather cosy in here,’ said Miss Griffin, looking round with a faint air of surprise.

  ‘Yes, it is foolish to fret for the might-have-beens. Or for the have-beens in this case.’

  Miss Griffin did not fret for these.

  ‘Now do not shirk drinking your share,’ said Matty, replenishing the cups. ‘You need it as much as I do. Being up and doing is as tiring as sitting still, however much one may envy it. Mr Seaton has gone to bed. He was overtired and sorry for himself, but I did not take much notice. It was wiser not to sympathize.’

  ‘Oh, I expect he was very tired,’ said Miss Griffin, sitting up as if to put her full energy into her compassion.

  ‘He begins to feel his age, but he is very well and strong. And we are all tired.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Griffin, speaking in a mechanical tone and suddenly enlivening it. ‘But it is a healthy tiredness.’ She had been so often told of the beneficial effects of weariness on the human frame, that she felt she should know them.

  ‘It has gone a little beyond that today. But it is only once in a lifetime. We must not complain.’

  Miss Griffin was not going to do this, but her nod had something besides agreement.

  ‘Come, come now, we must go to bed,’ said Matty, keeping her eyes from the other as if in fear of what might meet them. ‘We shall be a couple of sleepy old maids in the morning, if we do not take care.’

  Miss Griffin’s eyes opened wide and held themselves on Matty’s face.

  ‘We owe it to ourselves and to other people not to s
ink to that. We must not quite lose our self-respect. This is a matter in which considering ourselves is best for everyone. Has Emma gone to bed?’

  ‘Yes, hours ago,’ said Miss Griffin, only realizing her implication when she had spoken.

  Matty did not comment on it, possibly for the reason that Emma had only been half a day in her service and had not yet learned the benefits of exhaustion.

  ‘Well, then she can be up bright and early to wait upon us,’ she said with an effort which did not say nothing for her will. ‘We will not be down until ten o’clock. We have had a nice little chat. Good night, and mind you sleep.’

  Matty went to her room, feeling that she had made her companion ample amends, and the latter, waiting to turn out the lamps, wondered that she did not feel the same, as she had felt it so many times. This was the reason for her not feeling it again.

  Chapter 3

  ‘I am ready for Aunt Matty’, said Aubrey.

  ‘Are you, little boy? And very nice and trim you look. I wish I could feel the same. I am done with village dressmakers. I am not much of a woman for personal adornment, but there are stages beyond even me. I ought to think of my family; it was selfish and lazy of me. I certainly can’t expect to rejoice their eyes.’ Justine sighed over her conclusion.

  ‘Won’t smoothing it make it better?’

  ‘No, it will not, impertinent child. It will leave it as it is.’ Justine aimed a blow in her brother’s direction without moving towards him.

  ‘Mark, are you ready for your aunt?’ said Aubrey.

  ‘As far as the outward man can count. But her eyes may pierce the surface and pounce on what is beneath.’

  ‘Now I won’t have Aunt Matty laughed at for her penetration,’ said Justine. ‘It is a valuable quality and one which deserves to be reckoned with.’

  ‘And is more than any other.’

  ‘She has none,’ said Clement. ‘She attributes motives to people, whether they are there or not. That gets us further from the truth than anything. Mother has really a sounder penetration.’

  ‘Dear little Mother,’ said Justine, giving a pitying tenderness to the same quality in Blanche.