Books 9-12: Finch's Fortune / The Master of Jalna / Whiteoak Harvest / Wakefield's Course

by Mazo de La Roche

  As the greater part of his days was spent with girls much older than himself Archer had to make the most of his masculinity. He was very straight and the straightness was exaggerated by his carrying his chest high and his neck rigid. His face was inclined to thinness but his arms and legs were sturdy, so that the pedestal of his small being looked firm indeed. He had fair hair, not sleek and glossy like Nook’s or fluffy like Roma’s, but dry and rather stiff. His forehead was high and white and beneath it his blue eyes looked out with an expression almost piercing. This expression seldom changed. He seemed to be searching for something and determined not to rest till he found it. His lips were thin and his mouth wide and usually turned down at the corners. When he did smile his look was sweet and rather surprised, as though he had not believed himself capable of being amused. He was the apple of Alayne’s eye and her constant annoyance. As an infant he had been perfect. She had thought of him as the reincarnation of her beloved father. But, as he developed, he was often an enigma. She could not believe that her father had ever behaved in such a way. She could only believe that he had inherited some perverse strain from the Whiteoaks or the Courts, and she spent many of her waking hours in trying gently to eradicate it and lost sleep over it at night. However Archer went his own way with a kind of blind persistence. He apparently had some scheme of life, known only to himself, which he felt obliged to follow, no matter what suffering it caused to himself or others.

  He was a source of amusement to nine-year-old Adeline, partly as a human being and partly because she saw that his behaviour was the cause of grave concern to their mother. This was not so much from cruelty as from a mischievous pleasure in the antics of the little brother who, till he was nearly four, had been held up to her as a paragon of goodness and on whom endearments were lavished which had never been bestowed on her.

  She was her father’s darling and she knew it. She knew that she was the image of the great-grandmother whose portrait, in a yellow satin evening dress, hung in the dining room. Her great-uncles never let her forget that she had them same dark red hair, the same brilliant brown eyes, the same milk-white skin and scarlet lips as were depicted in the portrait. She had the same nose, too, and the same temper. She did not know from where she had got her abounding vitality, for she did not know that she possessed it. She only knew that she could ride for hours on a spirited horse and at the end be ready for any kind of wildness. Yet she could on occasion be quiet and even contemplative and sometimes showed real self-restraint. Toward the younger, weaker Roma, she was generous and protective.

  “Children! Children!” exclaimed Alayne. “I wish you wouldn’t come into the room like that.”

  “But it’s the first time I’ve seen Daddy since early morning,” said Adeline. She got on to his knee and clasped his neck tightly. She kissed him again and again on the mouth. Roma went and sat on one of the beaded ottomans near the fire. She moved constantly on it as though it were her will to rub the beads off.

  “Roma!” cried Alayne. “Please get off that ottoman. It has a lovely covering and it is being ruined.”

  “Little rascal,” said Nicholas, looking sternly at the child.

  Roma held herself suspended above a chair. “Has this a lovely covering?” she asked.

  “Come and sit on my other knee,” said Renny. “Nothing can hurt it.” He looked sternly at his son. “And what have you been up to today?”

  Archer, for a reason known only to himself, had lately decided that he wanted to be a baby again. Now he held up both hands, in a feeble, flapping kind of way, and tottered across the room. He lisped, in a nasal whine: —

  “Can’t walk yet. Somebody help Archer walk.”

  This was painful to Alayne but Renny grinned from ear to ear. He asked: —

  “How old are you, then?”

  “Don’t know,” whined Archer. “Can’t walk yet. Want a bottle to thuck.”

  “Archer,” said Alayne sternly, “come here.” She reached out and drew him to her. He took one of her hands and began to gnaw at it in a toothless way. “Thumthing to thuck,” he urged.

  “Do you want to go straight back upstairs?” she asked.

  He began an affected imitation of an infant’s wail.

  Renny stretched out a leg and poked him in the seat with his toe. “Come,” he said, “enough of that!”

  Archer continued to make infantile noises and mouth Alayne’s hand. She rose and took him by the arm. “Very well,” she said, “you must go upstairs, I am afraid.”

  “Archer can’t walk. Give Archer a pickaback.”

  She bent over him and whispered in his car.

  “Give him a good smack,” suggested Nicholas.

  Archer, propelled by Alayne, took a few wobbling steps into the hall. Out there he shouted in his own loud voice: —

  “I won’t go up! I want to stay with Daddy!”

  “If I come after you, you’ll be sorry,” called out Renny.

  From the drawing room they could hear Archer stamping up the stairs, yelling as he went.

  Renny scareely knew what was going on about him, his mind was so occupied by the problem of how he should break the news of his proposed trip to Ireland. He heard Nicholas’s voice rumbling on and on. He felt the two little girls snuggling warm against his breast.

  Adeline said — “I do like the smell of you when you’ve been in the stables, washed your hands with Windsor soap, then walked in the frosty air.”

  Roma snuffed and declared — “I like your smell best when you’ve just shaved and had a smoke.”

  Renny hugged them to him. “What would you think of me if I won the Grand National?”

  “It would be the happiest day of my life,” said Adeline.

  “What is the Grand National?” asked Roma.

  “It’s the greatest race in the world, little silly,” said Adeline.

  Suddenly Renny pushed them from him and leaned toward his uncle.

  “Look here, Uncle Nick. Read these. I had them today.” He handed him the two cablegrams.

  Nicholas put on his spectacles and read them. It took him some minutes to absorb their import.

  “What’s it all about? Oh yes, a horse. Dermot Court, eh? Wants to sell you a horse, eh? No, no, don’t you do it! I wouldn’t trust any Court, when it comes to a horse deal.”

  “My God, Uncle — he doesn’t want to sell me a horse! He’s recommending one to me.”

  “Who owns it? Malahide? Worse still.”

  “No. A farmer named Madigan.”

  “What a cable that boy Wakefield sent! It’s like a letter. He could have said it in half the words.”

  Renny replied testily — “He had to make it clear and he had to make it urgent. What do you think of the idea?”

  Nicholas took off his spectacles and stared at Renny from under his shaggy brows.

  “I think it’s a very foolish scheme. I don’t like it at all. Five hundred guineas is a lot to risk.”

  “I know. And I’d never do it without seeing the horse first.”

  As he said these words Alayne returned to the room leading Archer by the hand. She said: —

  “Archer says he will be quiet and good if someone will play a game of dominoes with him. Will you, Adeline?”

  “I want to hear about the horse.”

  “I’ll play with him,” said Roma.

  “Thank you, dear,” said Alayne, but her eyes were cold as they rested on the child’s face.

  “Archie!” exclaimed Renny.

  Archer turned his piercing gaze on him.

  “Do you know what the Grand National is?”

  “It’s a steeplechase!” He began to gallop about the room, leaping imaginary obstacles.

  “Good legs, hasn’t he?” observed Renny. “Go it, old boy!”

  “Roma, will you please take him to play dominoes?” said Alayne.

  “Yes, Auntie Alayne.”

  But Archer prostrated himself on the floor.

  “I’m down,” he said, “I
’m hurt.”

  Alayne went to him, her face tense but her voice gentle.

  “Archer, darling, you must get up.”

  He began to rock rhythmically on the floor, as in a cradle.

  “I’m a baby,” he lisped. “Ca-an’t walk. Give me pickaback!”

  Adeline stood smiling.

  “You make him worse,” said Alayne angrily. “Stop smiling at him instantly. You do it purposely.”

  Renny sprang up. “Come, Archie!” He caught up his son and threw him to his shoulder. “Come, Roma.” He took the children to the sitting room.

  “Adeline has such a tormenting spirit,” said Alayne to Nicholas.

  “She inherited it from momma,” he answered complacently. “Mamma always enjoyed the discomfiture of weaker natures.”

  Alayne thought — “Smug old man! Everything the family does is right. I feel half-suffocated by them all tonight.” She passed her hand across her forehead.

  “Headache, my dear?” inquired Nicholas, solicitously. “No wonder. This weather is appalling.”

  Renny returned with Adeline clinging to his arm. He had overheard his uncle’s words and he too gave Alayne a sympathetic look. He said: —

  “I quite agree. For my part I’ve never been so affected by weather. I don’t know what is the matter with me.” He sat down, rested an elbow on a knee and his head on his hand.

  If the cast-iron stove in the hall had come into the room and announced that the weather was affecting it, Nicholas and Alayne could scarcely have been more surprised. Alayne asked: —

  “When did you begin t o feel like this? Does your head ache? Do you think you have a temperature?”

  “I just feel seedy. A sort of lassitude.” The word, on his lips, was terrible.

  Alayne sprang up, came to him and put her hand on his forehead.

  Nicholas remarked — “You ate a hearty lunch.”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “When did you have tea?” asked Alayne.

  “I had none.”

  “Would you like some now?”

  “No, thanks. I believe I’ll have a whiskey and soda.”

  “Have you got a chill?” asked Nicholas.

  “No. There’s not much wrong with me. I guess I need a change. I’ve thought so for some time. Do you know, —” he turned to Alayne with an ingratiating smile, — “I have it in my mind to go to Ireland.”

  “To Ireland!” she repeated, on a suddenly suspicious note. “But why?”

  He tightened his arm about her. “Well, for one thing, the climate agrees with me and for another I promised dear old Dermot Court, in 1919, that I’d go back to see him before he died. I’ve just heard from him and he wants me, most particularly, to go over soon.” His eyes had a deep light of sincerity in them. His mouth took on the lines of classic truth.

  Nicholas made deep unintelligible noises inside himself. He made as though to hand the cablegrams to Alayne, then changed his mind and stuffed them into his pocket. After all, they weren’t his to show and if Renny chose to approach the matter from a sentimental angle, let him.

  “Is Daddy ill?” asked Adeline.

  “Ask him.” answered Nicholas. “I’m inclined to think it’s a kind of horse fever.”

  “Did he catch it in the stables?”

  “Partly. And partly inherited it. It’s incurable but not fatal. Except to the family of the afflicted one.”

  “Now you’re talking rubbish.” Adeline said.

  Alayne firmly detached herself from Renny.

  “Really,” she said. “I wish you would tell me what all this is about!”

  Renny answered, “It’s quite true that I need a change. It’s quite true that I promised Dermot Court I would go back to Ireland to see him. It is also true that there is a horse for sale who has got it in him to win the Grand National.”

  The sympathy that had softened her features fled, leaving them sharpened, her eyes intense.

  “I do wish,” she said, “that you would be candid.”

  “I am candid.”

  “You made me believe that you were not well, when all that was wrong was your craving to see this horse. Uncle Nicholas, do help me persuade him not to do this! It’s insane. How much do they ask you to pay for the horse?”

  “Only five hundred guineas.” he answered.

  “Five hundred guineas!” Angry colour flooded her face and she added bitterly — “I have seen you at your wit’s end for five hundred dollars.”

  “I know,” he answered quietly. “But things are better now and I count myself fortunate that I can spare the money to buy this horse. Now listen, Alayne, let me read these cables to you. When you hear them you’ll understand —”

  “I’ll not listen to them,” she retorted. “I know only too well what they contain. If you go to Ireland and see this horse, you will buy it. It’s as certain as that I am standing here. You will spend any amount of money in having it trained. But it won’t win the race. It will break its leg or its neck or some woman will kill it — like that other one was killed!”

  He looked at her, speechless, too astonished for words. Then he said, his lip trembling a little: —

  “That was unkind of you, Alayne.”

  She turned away and went to the window. There was blackness outside, and the sound of rain. Wragge, the houseman, came in and put coals on the fire. He went about drawing curtains. She moved from the window and went to the mantelpiece and laid her hands on it.

  When Wragge had gone, Renny said — “Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. The family is coming to dinner on Sunday. This is Friday. We’ll talk the thing over and, if the majority is set against it, I’ll give up the idea. But I warn you I shall be throwing away one of the best chances of my life.”

  Already Nicholas was beginning to weaken. He said: —

  “By gad. I never knew Dermot to back a horse that was not a sound one! The only time Ernest ever won a pot of money at the races was on a tip he got from Dermot. Does Ernest know about this horse?”

  Affection for his uncles shone in Renny’s eyes. He felt that they would be on his side. Pheasant already was. Piers could be won over. Meg was easily caught up by his enthusiasms. That left just Maurice and Aunt Harriet and he anticipated little opposition from them.

  “I don’t want any family conclave about the matter,” said Alayne. “If you’ve made up your mind to go, go.”

  “I have not made up my mind and I want to hear what the family thinks about it.”

  With her back still toward him she said: —

  “All the family knows that when your mind is made up to buy a horse nothing will stop you. Adeline, run off to the other children.”

  Adeline spoke breathlessly. “Daddy, if you go to Ireland, may I go with you?”

  “I’m not at all sure if I’m going,” he returned.

  “Adeline, I asked you to leave the room.”

  “I think I might be answered that one little question.”

  “Really, you are ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “To speak of an ocean voyage as a little thing.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Will you leave the room?” There was such tension in Alayne’s voice that both men were startled. When the child had gone, Nicholas rumbled: —

  “End of a long winter. Hard on nerves.”

  Alayne thought — “I cannot have a few words with my husband in private. And I’m losing all my self-restraint. But it’s no wonder. Adeline is exactly like them. She’s unbearable. That look she gave Renny before she left the room ...”

  “I’m willing to bet,” said Renny, “that Uncle Ernest and Aunt Harriet will say I ought at least to see the horse — to say nothing of keeping my promise to Dermot Court. I’ll say nothing more about my need of a change of air. I’ve survived a good many winters and I dare say I shall survive this.”

  Alayne laid her forehead against the mantelpiece and began to laugh. Nicholas joined in.

  “You think,�
�� said Renny, “that because I look as hard as nails I have no feeling. Well, perhaps I shall surprise you some day.”

  Alayne turned and faced him.

  “How can you say such things!”

  “I think I’m justified.”

  “Nonsense!” said Nicholas. “Alayne and I are merely envious of your health.”

  Wragge sounded the gong in the hall. The dogs, once more established about the stove, rose to their feet as one and stretched. The noise of the gong had hurt Biddy’s head. She raised her high soprano in a howl. The bobtailed sheep dog joined in, his voice seeming to emanate through all his shaggy coat. But the bulldog, his under jaw projecting in an expression of intensely masculine scorn, led the way toward the dining room. Alayne forestalled them.

  “No,” she said, firmly, “I can’t have you in here. Your coats smell in this weather. Please don’t let them in, Wragge.”

  She said nothing, however, against Renny’s sixteen-year-old blind spaniel Merlin, already lying by the side of his chair.

  Adeline was the only one of the children who shared the evening meal with the grownups. She sat very upright, facing Nicholas, whose gaze frequently was raised from her small face, surrounded by its mass of dark red hair, to the portrait of his mother behind her. Her eyes flew from the face of one parent to the other, her partisanship of Renny showing in the smile that curved her lips when she looked at him, and the wary look that came into her eyes when they met her mother’s.

  Alayne was determined there should be no discussion at the table. Mealtime at Jalna had too often been the field of heated argument and she was striving to uproot this long established habit while her children were still young. Renny knew what was in her mind and somewhat taciturnly applied himself to his broiled chop. He gave it the extra dose of Worcester sauce which Adeline had learned to associate with the mood he was now in. She stretched out a leg that was growing long and gave him a little poke with her toe beneath the table. He flashed her a look of understanding and, as their eyes met an electric vibration caused Alayne to give them both a cool, detached glance. But she began to talk cheerfully of an article she had been reading, in an American weekly, on the situation in Europe. Nicholas was interested and they bore the conversation between them. Wragge waited solicitously on Renny as he always did in crises such as this.