I closed my eyes with determination.
‘Could you go away, Gabriel?’ I said. ‘No matter what you say, I am still a very sick man, and I insist on having my rest. I find you extremely tiring.’
Chapter Fifteen
Everybody had a word to say on the subject of John Gabriel and Milly Burt, and everybody said it, sooner or later, to me. My room, in the throes of preparation for the whist drive, became a kind of Green Room. People repaired there for cups of tea or glasses of sherry. Teresa could, of course, have barred them out, but she did nothing of the kind, and I was glad that she didn’t for I found myself deeply interested in this rapidly-woven pattern of hearsay and malice and obscure jealousy.
Between Milly Burt and John Gabriel there existed, of that I was sure, nothing that could be taken exception to. Friendliness and pity on his side, adoring hero worship on hers.
Yet I realized, reluctantly, that implicit in the present position were the further developments that malicious hearsay had anticipated. Technically innocent, Milly Burt was already more than half in love with Gabriel whether she knew it herself or not. Gabriel was essentially a man of sensual appetites. At any moment protective chivalry might be transformed into passion.
I thought that but for the exigencies of the election, their friendship might already have turned into a love affair. Gabriel, I suspected, was a man who needed to be loved and at the same time admired. The black subterranean venom in him could be appeased so long as he could cherish and protect. Milly Burt was the kind of woman who needed to be cherished and protected.
I thought cynically to myself that it would be one of the better kind of adulteries – based less on lust than on love, pity, kindness, and gratitude. Still, it would, undoubtedly, be adultery and a large proportion of the voting electorate of St Loo would see it as adultery without extenuating circumstances, and would forthwith record votes for the desiccated Mr Wilbraham of blameless private life, or else sit at home and refrain from voting at all. Rightly or wrongly, Gabriel was fighting this election on personal appeal – the votes recorded would be given for John Gabriel, not for Winston Churchill. And John Gabriel was skating on thin ice.
‘I know I oughtn’t to mention such a thing perhaps,’ Lady Tressilian said breathlessly. She had been walking fast. She undid her grey flannel coat and sipped gratefully at tea served in one of the late Miss Amy Tregellis’s Rockingham cups. She dropped her voice in a conspiratorial manner. ‘But I wonder if anyone has said anything to you about – about Mrs Burt and – and our candidate.’
She looked at me like a spaniel in distress.
‘I’m afraid,’ I said, ‘that people have been talking a little.’
Her nice face looked very worried.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I wish they wouldn’t. She’s very nice, you know, very nice indeed. Not at all the type that – I mean, it’s so unfair. Of course, if there were anything in it, anything to be careful about – why, then they would be careful and no one would know anything about it. It’s just because it’s quite all right and there’s nothing to conceal that they haven’t, well – thought –’
Mrs Bigham Charteris stumped in energetically at this point. She was full of indignation about some horse or other.
‘Disgraceful carelessness,’ she said. ‘That man Burt is absolutely unreliable. He’s drinking more and more – and now it’s beginning to show in his work. Of course, I’ve always known he was hopeless with dogs, but he did pull himself together over horses and cows – the farmers all swear by him – but now I hear that Polneathy’s cow died calving – just due to negligence. And now Bentley’s mare. Burt will do for himself if he’s not careful.’
‘I was just talking to Captain Norreys about Mrs Burt,’ said Lady Tressilian. ‘Asking if he’d heard anything –’
‘All a pack of nonsense,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris robustly, ‘but these things stick. Now people are saying that that’s the reason Burt’s drinking so much. More stuff and nonsense. He drank too much and knocked his wife about long before Major Gabriel ever came to this place.
‘Still,’ she added, ‘something’s got to be done about it. Somebody’s got to speak to Major Gabriel.’
‘Carslake has mentioned the matter to him, I believe,’ I said.
‘That man’s got no tact,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris. ‘I suppose Gabriel flew right off the handle?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He did.’
‘Gabriel’s a damned fool,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris. ‘Soft-hearted – that’s his trouble. H’m – somebody had better speak to her. Give her a hint to keep out of the way until after the election. I don’t suppose she’s the least idea what people are saying.’ She turned on her sister-in-law. ‘You’d better do it, Agnes.’
Lady Tressilian turned purple and bleated miserably:
‘Oh really, Maud – I shouldn’t know what to say. I’m sure I’m quite the wrong person.’
‘Well, we mustn’t risk letting Mrs Carslake do it. That woman’s just poison.’
‘Hear, hear,’ I said, with feeling.
‘And I’ve a shrewd suspicion that she’s at the bottom of a lot of the talk herself.’
‘Oh, surely not, Maud. She wouldn’t do anything to prejudice our own candidate’s chances.’
‘You’d be surprised, Agnes,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris darkly, ‘at what I’ve seen go on in a regiment. If a woman wants to be spiteful it seems to override everything else – her husband’s chances of promotion – everything. If you ask me,’ she went on, ‘she’d have liked a mild flirtation with John Gabriel herself!’
‘Maud!’
‘Ask Captain Norreys what he thinks. He’s been on the spot, and lookers-on see most of the game, they say.’
Both ladies looked at me expectantly.
‘I certainly don’t think –’ I began – and then changed my mind. ‘I think you’re perfectly right,’ I said to Mrs Bigham Charteris.
The significance of some of Mrs Carslake’s half-finished remarks and glances had suddenly dawned on me. I thought it possible that, unlikely as it seemed, Mrs Carslake had not only taken no steps to scotch any flying rumours, but might actually have secretly encouraged them.
It was, I reflected, an unpleasant world.
‘If anyone’s going to tackle Milly Burt, I think Captain Norreys is the person,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris unexpectedly.
‘No,’ I cried.
‘She likes you and an invalid is always in rather a privileged position.’
‘Oh, I do so agree,’ said Lady Tressilian, delighted at a suggestion which released her from an unpleasant task.
‘No!’ I said.
‘She’s decorating the barn now,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris, rising energetically. ‘I’ll send her along – tell her there’s a cup of tea waiting for her.’
‘I shan’t do anything of the kind,’ I cried.
‘Oh yes, you will,’ said Mrs Bigham Charteris, who had not been a colonel’s wife for nothing. ‘We’ve all got to do something to prevent those dreadful Socialists from getting in.’
‘It’s to help dear Mr Churchill,’ said Lady Tressilian. ‘After all he’s done for the country.’
‘Now that he’s won the war for us,’ I said, ‘he ought to sit back and write his history of the war (he’s one of the best writers of our times) and have a nice rest while Labour mismanages the peace.’
Mrs Bigham Charteris had gone energetically through the window. I continued to address Lady Tressilian.
‘Churchill deserves a rest,’ I said.
‘Think of the terrible mess Labour would make of things,’ said Lady Tressilian.
‘Think of the terrible mess anyone will make of it,’ I said. ‘Nobody can help making a mess of things after a war. Don’t you think, really, that it had better not be our side? Anyway,’ I added frantically, as I heard footsteps and voices outside, ‘you’re obviously the person to hint things to Milly Burt. These things come better from another woman.’
>
But Lady Tressilian was shaking her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘They don’t – they don’t really. Maud is quite right. You’re the right person. I’m sure she’ll understand.’
The last pronoun referred, I presumed, to Milly Burt. I myself had very grave doubts whether she would understand.
Mrs Bigham Charteris brought Milly Burt into the room like a naval destroyer convoying a merchant ship.
‘Here you are,’ she said breezily. ‘There’s the tea. Pour out a cup and sit down and amuse Captain Norreys. Agnes, I want you. What did you do with the prizes?’
The two women swept out of the room. Milly Burt poured out her cup of tea and came to sit down by me. She looked a little bewildered.
‘There isn’t anything wrong, is there?’ she asked.
Perhaps if she had not used that opening phrase I should have shirked the task imposed upon me. As it was, the opening made it slightly easier for me to say what I had been told to say.
‘You’re a very nice person, Milly,’ I said. ‘Do you ever realize that a lot of people aren’t particularly nice?’
‘What do you mean, Captain Norreys?’
‘Look here,’ I said. ‘Do you know that there’s a lot of ill-natured talk going on about you and Major Gabriel?’
‘About me and Major Gabriel?’ She stared at me. A slow burning blush suffused her face up to the roots of the hair. It embarrassed me and I averted my eyes. ‘You mean that it’s not only Jim – that outside people say so, too – that they really think – ?’
‘When an election is on,’ I said, hating myself, ‘the prospective candidate has to be particularly careful. He has, in St Paul’s words, to avoid even the appearance of evil … You see? Silly little things like having coffee with him at the Ginger Cat or his meeting you in the street and carrying your parcels, are quite enough to set people off.’
She looked at me with wide, frightened brown eyes.
‘But you do believe, don’t you, that there’s never been anything, that he’s never said a word? That he’s been just very very kind? That’s all! Really, that’s all.’
‘Of course, I know that. But a prospective candidate can’t even afford to be kind. Such,’ I added bitterly, ‘is the purity of our political ideals.’
‘I wouldn’t do him any harm,’ said Milly. ‘Not for the world.’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t.’
She looked at me appealingly.
‘What can I do to – to put things right?’
‘I should simply suggest that you – well, keep out of his way until the election’s over. Try not to be seen together in public if you can help it.’
She nodded quickly.
‘Yes, of course. I’m ever so grateful to you for telling me, Captain Norreys. I should never have thought of it. I – he’s been so wonderful to me –’
She got up and everything would have ended very satisfactorily if John Gabriel had not chosen that moment to come in.
‘Hullo,’ he said. ‘What’s going on here? I’ve just come from a meeting, been talking till my throat’s hoarse. Got any sherry? I’m visiting some mothers next – and whisky isn’t too good on the breath.’
‘I must be off now,’ said Milly. ‘Goodbye, Captain Norreys. Goodbye, Major Gabriel.’
Gabriel said, ‘Wait a moment. I’ll walk home with you.’
‘No. No, please. I – I must hurry.’
He said, ‘All right. I’ll sacrifice the sherry then.’
‘Please!’ She was flushed, embarrassed. ‘I don’t want you to come. I – I want to go alone.’
She almost ran from the room. Gabriel wheeled round on me.
‘Who’s been saying things to her? You?’
‘I have,’ I said.
‘What do you mean by butting into my affairs?’
‘I don’t care a damn about your affairs. This is the affair of the Conservative Party.’
‘And do you care a damn about the Conservative Party?’
‘When I actually come to think of it, no,’ I admitted.
‘Then why do the Nosey Parker?’
‘If you want to know, it’s because I like little Mrs Burt, and if she were to feel later that you had lost the election from any reason connected with your friendship for her, she would be very unhappy.’
‘I shan’t lose the election through my friendship with her.’
‘It’s quite possible that you might, Gabriel. You underestimate the force of prurient imagination.’
He nodded.
‘Who put you up to talking to her?’
‘Mrs Bigham Charteris and Lady Tressilian.’
‘Those old hags! And Lady St Loo?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Lady St Loo had nothing to do with it.’
‘If I thought she was issuing orders,’ said Gabriel, ‘I’d take Milly Burt away for the weekend and to hell with the lot of them!’
‘That would finish things very nicely!’ I said. ‘I thought you wanted to win this election?’
He grinned suddenly, his good temper restored.
‘I’ll win it all right,’ he said.
Chapter Sixteen
That evening was one of the loveliest evenings of the whole summer. People flocked along to the Long Barn. There was fancy dress and dancing as well as the whist drive proper.
Teresa wheeled me along to have a look at the scene. Everyone seemed very animated. Gabriel was in good form, telling stories, mixing with the crowd, quick with back-chat and repartee. He looked particularly cheerful and confident. He seemed to be paying special attention to the ladies present, rather exaggerating his manner to them. I thought that was astute of him. His infectious good spirits made themselves felt – and everything was going with a swing.
Lady St Loo, gaunt and impressive, was there to set things in motion. Her presence was taken as a compliment. I had discovered that she was both liked and feared. She was a woman who did not hesitate to speak her mind on occasions – on the other hand, her kindness, though unspectacular, was very real, and she took a keen interest in the town of St Loo and its vicissitudes.
‘The Castle’ was much respected. When the billeting officer had been tearing his hair over the difficulties of placing evacuees early in the war, an uncompromising message had arrived from Lady St Loo. Why had she not been allocated any evacuees?
To Mr Pengelley’s halting explanations that he had been unwilling that she should be troubled – some of the children were very undisciplined – she had replied:
‘Naturally we shall do our share. We can easily take five children of school age, or two mothers with families, whichever you prefer.’
The mothers and families had not been a success. The two London women had been terrified of the long echoing stone passages of the castle, they had shivered and murmured about ghosts. When the gales blew from the sea the inadequate heating set them huddling together with their teeth chattering. The place was a nightmare to them after the cheery warmth and humanity of a London tenement. They soon departed and were replaced with children of school age to whom the castle was one of the most exciting things that had ever happened. They climbed about its ruins, hunted insatiably for a rumoured underground passage, and enjoyed the echoing corridors inside. They submitted to being mothered by Lady Tressilian, were awed and fascinated by Lady St Loo, were taught not to fear horses and dogs by Mrs Bigham Charteris, and got on excellent terms with the old Cornish cook who made them saffron buns.
Later Lady St Loo twice made representations to the billeting officer. Certain children had been placed on lonely farms – the farmers in question were not, according to her, either kindly or trustworthy. She insisted on inquiries being made. It was found that in one case the children were being badly underfed. In the other they were adequately fed but dirty and neglected.
It all heightened the respect in which the old lady was held. The Castle wouldn’t stand for things being done wrong, people said.
Lady St Loo did not grace the
whist drive with her presence too long. She and her sister and sister-in-law departed together. Isabella remained on to help Teresa, Mrs Carslake and the other ladies.
I myself stayed watching it all for about twenty minutes. Then Robert pushed my chair back to the house. I stopped him on the terrace. It was a warm night and the moonlight was magnificent.
‘I’ll stay out here,’ I said.
‘Right. Do you want a rug or anything?’
‘No, it’s quite warm.’
Robert nodded. He turned on his heel and strode back to the barn, where he had undertaken certain tasks.
I lay there smoking peacefully. The castle was silhouetted against the moonlit sea and looked more than ever like a stage property. A hum of music and voices came from the direction of the barn. Behind me the house was dark and shuttered save for one open window. A freak of the moonlight made it look as though a causeway of light stretched from the castle to Polnorth House.
Along it, I pleased myself by imagining, rode a figure in shining armour – young Lord St Loo returned to his home … A pity that battledress was so much less romantic than chain mail.
At variance with the far-off human noises from the barn came the thousand and one noises of the summer night, small creakings and rustlings – tiny animals creeping about their lawful vocations, leaves stirring, the faint far-off hoot of an owl …
Vague contentment stole over me. It was true what I had told Teresa – I was beginning to live again. The past and Jennifer were like a brilliant unsubstantial dream – between it and me was the morass of pain and darkness and lethargy from which I was only now emerging. I could not take up my old life – the break was clean. The life that I was beginning was a new life. What was this new life of mine going to be? How was I going to shape it? Who and what was the new Hugh Norreys? I felt interest beginning to stir. What did I know? What could I hope? What was I going to do?
The Rose and the Yew Tree Page 12
