Chuff, arriving home for lunch, daunted by these immense and dangerous prospects of unknown financial territories which lay ahead of him, found Jonathan working peacefully over some papers—‘lesson notes’, he said—in the summer-house, Susie sitting silent beside him.
‘Easy for them,’ he thought.
‘A difficult morning?’ suggested Jonathan, as Chuff slumped on to the bench.
‘Nat Armitage proposes he should be Chairman of Henry Morcar Limited and I should be Managing Director,’ he blurted.
‘Cool.’
‘Damned cool.’
‘But it might not be a bad idea,’ said Jonathan thoughtfully. ‘The West Riding might like it. Armitages still have a great name. You’re…’
‘—young and haven’t been brought up in Yorkshire,’ concluded Chuff savagely.
‘Still, you’re West Riding by birth on both sides.’
‘Thank you for those kind words.’
‘What had you thought, yourself, of doing?’
‘I hadn’t thought,’ said Chuff. The truth was he had simply assumed that Syke Mills and its subsidiaries were now his to do as he liked with; Chairmen, Boards of Directors and so on had not entered his calculations. ‘What do you think about it all, Jonathan? Seriously?’
‘It’s all too much for you to manage alone, Chuff —yet,’ said Jonathan gravely.
‘You’d like me to go in for a merger, perhaps?’
‘Mergers are all the trend. Uncle Harry considered a merger, after all.’
‘I don’t want a merger,’ said Chuff, biting off each word.
‘You’ll have to elect a new Chairman to replace Uncle Harry, anyway.’
‘Armitages have had their day. They’re out of date.’
‘But you are not. You would balance Uncle Nat’ (He had settled on this mode of naming his mother’s husband.) ‘Uncle Nat is an honourable man.’
‘Oh, agreed.’
‘Then later you can become Chairman. It would all be in the family—you’d all be on the same side.’
‘Ha!’ said Chuff with extreme scepticism. ‘Families!’
The necessary notices were, however, sent out, the necessary adjustments made to voting shares; Nat Armitage became Chairman of Henry Morcar, Limited, and C. H. F. Morcar its Managing Director. As Jonathan had prophesied, the West Riding seemed to approve, and even Chuff admitted that the former Major Armitage was sometimes useful. He knew how to preside at meetings and take votes and things of that kind, so that shareholders who arrived looking rather anxious departed looking soothed. Above all, he did not interfere in the day-to-day working of the mills. Nevertheless, C. H. F. Morcar, though he soon settled, he thought, into his managerial duties, did not forget the fearful blow to his pride which he had received on the first morning of his new career. He did not forget, and he did not intend to do so.
7
Susie
Chuff’s decision to marry in the spring, announced in the New Year, was well received by all concerned except Susie.
Chuff did not notice his sister’s reaction at first. When on a couple of nights she slipped off to bed immediately after their evening meal together, he attributed this to natural causes. In any case his evenings nowadays were devoted either to Ruth or to vigorous wrestles with Henry Morcar Limited problems. But after a few more nights he began to notice her absence.
‘Where’s Susie, Mrs Jessopp?’ he enquired.
Mrs Jessopp pursed her lips.
‘She’s upstairs in her room.’
‘Has she gone to bed? Is she ill or something?’
Mrs Jessopp hesitated. ‘I don’t think she’s ill, exactly,’ she said. ‘She seems unhappy.’
Chuff threw down the evening Recorder and ran upstairs. His knock at Susie’s door receiving no reply, he opened the door and burst in. The room was in darkness, but there seemed to be no one in the bed; screwing up his eyes, he thought he perceived a deepened shadow in an armchair.
‘Susie!’ he said.
The shadow moved.
‘Susie, why are you upstairs here in the cold?’ he said in his most soothing, loving tone. ‘Come down and sit with me, lovey, do.’
‘You don’t want me,’ said Susie.
‘What are you talking about? Of course I do. You’re my sister.’
‘If you don’t want Jonathan, you don’t want me.’
‘Jonathan’s away in Ormbury,’ said Chuff, puzzled.
‘You turned him out.’
‘I turned Jonathan out!’ exclaimed Chuff in capital letters. ‘What rubbish! I did nothing of the sort! I told him he was always welcome at Stanney Royd.’
‘That’s not the same as asking him to stay here.’
Chuff sighed and did not know what to say; he supposed she was right. ‘Do try to be happy, now you’ve left school,’ he produced at last.
‘I don’t want to stay here when you’re married,’ went on Susie in her obstinate little voice.
‘But why not?’ said Chuff, dismayed. ‘Ruth is fond of you.’
‘Oh, Ruth’s all right. But if you thirds: I shall enjoy it, alone here, watching you and Ruth being married, you’re mistaken.’
That his little sister should know enough of the facts of life to make such a remark was painful to Chuff.
‘Why shouldn’t Jonathan and I get married?’
‘You’re too young yet, dear.’
‘I’m eighteen next birthday.’
‘Are you really?’ said Chuff, astonished. ‘The years slip by.’
‘If Jonathan and I can’t get married when you do, then I want to go to London and take my L.R.A.M.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A music degree,’ said Susie impatiently.
‘Susie, you can’t do that.’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘No! I shall not allow you to go and live in London alone, Susie,’ said Chuff firmly, ‘so you can stop thinking about it’
With this return to normal feeling he realised he could put the light on; he stepped back and did so. Susie was revealed gazing at him pitifully, wan and tear-stained, her lovely eyes large with anguish, her exquisite pale hair dishevelled. Susie’s beauty was quite out of the ordinary and few could resist it; her brother was not one of them.
‘Ah, Susie!’ he said weakly. ‘I shouldn’t have a moment’s peace if you were alone in London’
‘But what about me?’ said Susie in a trembling tone. ‘You should help me, Chuff.’
‘What can I do?’ said the perplexed Chuff.
‘You can ask Jonathan,’ wailed Susie.
Chuff groaned.
‘Put the light out when you go,’ said Susie.
‘I shall do nothing of the kind. Come downstairs to the fire, like a sensible girl.’
‘No.’
‘But why not, lovey?’
‘I don’t want to.’
To this there was nothing to be said. Chuff turned on the electric radiator, left the light on, and withdrew. After some agonised indecision, he rang up Jonathan, who sounded cheerful and animated.
‘Chuff? I was just about to call you,’ said Jonathan. ‘I wanted your advice.’
‘That’s new from you,’ growled Chuff.
It appeared that Jonathan had been offered a post as assistant lecturer in English literature in one of the new northern universities, to take effect next autumn.
‘That should suit you better than the hurly-burly of school,’ said Chuff.
‘Oh, there’ll be plenty of hurly-burly, I don’t doubt,’ said Jonathan cheerfully. ‘But the place is new and growing. Mostly humps of soil and piles of bricks at present, I gather. A lot of organising to do. I should like that, you know.’
‘I’ll bet you would,’ thought Chuff with the irritated fondness he usually felt for his half-cousin. ‘What’s the difficulty then?’
‘Ought I to leave Ormbury so soon? It might leave them in a bit of a hole. It seems rather mean to leave so soon. There’s a great shortage of teacher
s, you know. What do you think, Chuff? Seriously?’
Any other person, Chuff would have frankly advised to consult his own advantage, but he knew that this was the way to spur Jonathan in the opposite direction. So he said gravely: ‘I should think a new university’s need is greater.’
‘Do you think so? Really?’ said Jonathan, as delighted as a child.
He is a child, thought Chuff, contemptuous yet admiring; he’s a good fellow after all, but it’s so easy to fool him, I did it nicely that time.
‘Look, I want to have a word with you about Susie,’ he said.
‘Is anything wrong?’ said Jonathan quickly.
‘Well—could you come up for the weekend?’ suggested Chuff, finding himself unable to go into a question of such delicacy as marriage, on the telephone. It occurred to him that Jonathan might fear that Susie was changing her affections, so he added hastily: ‘Susie would be very glad to see you.’
‘I’ll come up on Friday night,’ said Jonathan.
‘Good. I’ll meet you.’
Susie, radiant in a very short new frock of white wool, threw herself into Jonathan’s arms the moment he entered Stanney Royd. Clasping her arms about his neck, she then broke into wild tears.
‘Why, Susie! What’s the matter? Susie! My darling!’ exclaimed Jonathan fondly. Leading her to a wooden bench which stood in the hall, he seated her and sat beside her, stroking her hair and pressing her face against his shoulders. ‘What is wrong, Pussy?’ he murmured in her ear.
Chuff, who found this name of endearment distastefully sentimental, moved impatiently.
‘She wants to go to London and live in lodgings and take a musical degree,’ he said in a loud practical tone.
‘Impossible,’ interjected Jonathan.
‘She doesn’t want to live with Ruth and me when we’re married.’
‘But it won’t be for long. We shall be married soon, Susie,’ said Jonathan.
Susie lifted her head and gazed imploringly at her brother. Chuff, crimson and choking, managed to get out:
‘She would like it to be now.’
‘Why not?’ cried Jonathan happily. ‘That’s the best solution—we’ll have a double wedding in the Easter holidays. Ormbury isn’t too brilliant, but that would only be for one term; then at Lorimer we could have a flat, or a nice little house in the suburbs. Susie will be eighteen in March, you know, Chuff.’
His whole person radiated joy. Chuff for his part was excruciatingly torn between relief and shame. He felt with immense relief that his sister’s happiness was secure, but at the same time shame that he had placed on Jonathan’s shoulders a wife who, however beautiful, would always be a responsibility, perhaps even a drag, rather than a helpmeet and a safeguard. As the two men sat together that night discussing details of the proposed wedding, Chuff wondered whether Jonathan knew this too. Looking at Jonathan’s austere profile, Chuff believed that yes, he knew.
II
Jonathan
1
Honeymoon
Jonathan indeed knew. But he undertook the responsibility of Susie not only with deep tenderness but with awestruck joy; to him it was glorious, as a man feels on appointment to a vice-chancellorship or high political office. His only uncertainty was whether he would be equal to the noble task, be worthy of the great responsibility so honourably assigned to him. His thought as he stood beside Susie at the altar was a determination to be, indeed, worthy of his young wife; never in any way to fail her.
The double wedding was performed in fine conventional style in Marthwaite Church. Jonathan had suggested a quiet ceremony, even tentatively hinting at a registrar’s office, but Chuff had put his foot down scornfully on this notion, and Jonathan yielded, admitting to himself with amusement that he would enjoy seeing Susie in white satin and lace, and hearing with her the words of the Anglican wedding service—which, when studying it carefully beforehand, he discovered to be gravely beautiful. G. B. Mellor, very spruce and upright, with pugnacious chin protruding firmly, as Ruth’s brother of course ‘gave her away’; Nat Armitage, lean and distinguished with his slight limp, did the same for Susie.
The amount of obstinacy, sheer strength of will, clustered round the vicar in Marthwaite Church was enough to blow the ancient roof off, thought Jonathan, smiling to himself. Chuff and G.B., equally determined to make their way, but in conflicting directions, he thought. (G.B. had made great strides in the Trade Union world lately, he understood; he had become secretary to his union, and though it was only a small one this election pointed the way to higher things.) Jonathan himself was determined on his own ideas, though these were for peace and brotherhood; Nat Armitage, though rather worn and exhausted, yet had the habit of authority. Ruth with her sparkling eyes and rosy complexion, her strong arms and slightly buxom figure, Was the model of a lively, robust and faithful wife who would stand no nonsense from anything which threatened her husband and children. Only his lovely Susie—whose beauty was so outstanding that as she glided gracefully down the aisle there really was a slight movement, a very slight murmur, of appreciation from the assembled guests—looked passive, accepting, with malice towards none; the type of all those in the world who suffered helplessly the persecution of the strong. She looked rather frightened now, observed Jonathan with pity, and as though her bouquet of lilies and white roses would slip from her grasp. (The two brides were dressed alike and carried similar flowers, but whereas Ruth appeared an honest, good, comely young woman, agreeably clad, on whom one could congratulate her husband as a thoroughly sensible and honourable choice, Susie seemed a transcendent figure in, say, a pre-Raphaelite picture; her lustrous pale gold hair came certainly from the brush of Rossetti.) The two grooms rose to welcome their brides. Susie’s eyes met Jonathan’s; at once those great dark-blue orbs brightened into happiness and she smiled. Jonathan’s heart turned over with love.
Chuff and Ruth spent their honeymoon in the Scottish Highlands, Jonathan and Susie in Italy.
Jonathan observed with interest that whereas Chuff had none of old Mrs Morcar’s artistic talent—which, passed on to her son, had led him to his textile triumphs —Susie had inherited it in abundance. Not a creator, she had a true appreciative gift; she understood and revelled in Italy’s artistic wealth with just discrimination. She thought Venice a fairyland, Florence a most beautiful city. She smiled with loving glee when confronted with a Carpaccio, thought Titan cross and Raphael boring, though respecting their consummate techniques, adored Michelangelo, but when she occasionally met a Rubens strayed from his native land frowned and said his women were ‘bulgy’.
‘Daddy fought in Italy,’ she remarked once wistfully as they journeyed across the Apennines.
Jonathan gave her a look of sympathy but said nothing: he dared not venture upon this subject, Susie’s holy of holies, he knew too well the anguish caused by her father’s violent death.
She had a most sensitive understanding of other people’s feelings. To Jonathan this was something of a surprise; she had often seemed, not selfish, but wrapped in a soft silk cocoon of not wishing to intrude. But this was a mistake. For example, she said to him one day suddenly:
‘Do you remember the china lamb I gave to Grandfather?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘Should you mind if I gave it to Chuff? He might be hurt if I took it away.’
Jonathan forebore to tell her that the charming model of the lamb had become Chuff’s by inheritance, but choosing his words carefully, urged her to tell her brother that she was glad he kept the lamb on his desk; she wanted him to have it there. At this Susie gave her radiant smile.
The susceptible Italians, beaming fondly, called her bellissima and elegantissima. Both epithets were true. There was absolutely no vulgarity of any kind in Susie’s speech or look or thought, and her appointments of dress and lingerie were exquisite; she made no fuss, but chose unerringly. Sometimes on an impulse she put up her hair; it seemed to fall at once into those wonderful waves and curls one saw in adv
ertisements in glossy magazines. But she soon took it down; Jonathan surmised she found the elaborate dressing artificial, excessive.
Not on’y was their marriage one of true minds; their sexual relations were an ecstasy. Jonathan had been almost afraid to attempt intercourse, but her surrender was complete and joyous. Her intense happiness made his.
2
Married Life
After this delicious Italian dream, Ormbury looked peculiarly grim. A Midlands industrial town, it had not even the grace of being their native Yorkshire to console them. The traffic’s volume was appalling, the buildings were ugly and smoke-grimed; it was useless for Jonathan to make plans at school for the future, since he would stay only the present term there. His school colleagues were at first a trifle miffed at Jonathan’s early departure to what they called sardonically higher spheres; dedicated teachers all, they thought the children deserved the best and most skilful teaching available and it was the duty of an intelligent, enthusiastic young man like Jonathan to help provide it. But when they saw Susie they gasped and adopted a different attitude. With the exception of one or two female teachers who had hoped to win Jonathan for themselves, they treated Susie with great solicitude, lowering their voices and using their best language when they spoke to her, and asking Jonathan with much diffidence whether she wished to come to school sports and entertainments—compulsory for them, such a beauty as Susie’s set her free to choose for herself. Susie smiled and listened and asked questions, apparently rather naive but on further consideration rather deep. She attended classes in tapestry work at the local technical college and began to take great interest in this needlework.
Jonathan’s landlady, an honest but rather sharp-tongued dame, underwent a similar conversion. Not too pleased when Jonathan had informed her of his coming marriage and asked her to allow him to bring his wife to the lodgings, when Susie arrived she gaped at her, and then immediately took her under her wing. Discovering that the young wife knew nothing of housekeeping —how could she? Her childhood had been spent waited on by African servants, her teens under the highly competent dominion of Jennifer and Mrs Jessopp—she undertook to instruct her in cookery. Susie was earnest about this but rather slow; the poor child did not even know how to boil a potato, as the landlady exclaimed commiseratingly to Jonathan. At last, however, one day an apple pie was placed on the table, and Susie, flushed and excited, admitted that she had made it, The pie was really good and Jonathan said so emphatically; thenceforward apple pies appeared on the menu rather often, perhaps, but Jonathan always brought a keen appetite to them. Since Susie’s happiness was the greatest aim of his life, when Susie was happy he was happy too.
Ring in the New Page 3
