‘I expected what I said.’
‘Well, I expect something different. I have my own knowledge of life, and no mother who has been parted from her sons and then had them restored to her, would tolerate seeing them so seldom. It is not in human nature. You must know that. You are a mother yourself.’
‘To her children as well as mine, Cassius. It is the risk to them that troubles me. They cannot have two mothers.’
‘So that is what it has come to. I have heard you say the opposite. It seems that is what they will have. But there is surely no danger in it. The more mothers, the better, surely. We can’t have too much of a good thing.’
‘The usual suggestion is that we can.’
‘Well, then they will have it. But it is better than too little. It is a fault on the right side. We must leave the future to itself.’
‘It holds more problems than you realize.’
‘Well, I can’t help it, can I? I am not sure I cannot solve them. I shall just let things take their course. And if you are guided by me, you will do the same. And you are guided by me more often than you think, Flavia. I am not such a nonentity in my own house. I often find my influence working and having its result. Though no one would acknowledge it. Oh, no, I should not expect that. But it remains that I am the head of the family, and that must mean something. Take the example of this last decision. Who really made it, you or I?’
‘You had your own way,’ said his wife.
‘And what is that but the same thing in other words? If I carry my point, my advice is taken; there is no way out of it. And here we have the answer to the letter. It is a good thing the boy was told to wait. That was a good idea of yours, Flavia. Well, I wonder what Catherine says. It is odd, but I have a queer sort of feeling of suspense.’
‘She will come,’ said his wife, laying down the letter.
‘Oh, will she?’ said Cassius, coming up and taking it. ‘I may read it, I suppose? Well, of course I may; it is written to us both; it is written to me more than to you really. Oh, it is just a formal acceptance in the usual terms.’
‘Well, what else should it be?’ said Mr Clare.
‘The invitation was put in those terms,’ said Flavia.
‘Yes, well, I suppose it was. You could not be expected to use any others, to show too much zest, as you would say. It is odd how her writing comes back to me. I might have seen it yesterday. I generally forget writings, and I don’t think I saw it very much.’
‘I think it is natural that you should remember it.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose it is. I daresay she would remember mine, though she saw it even less. I don’t often seem to write things, somehow. So it is at luncheon tomorrow that she will be here. And it is fourteen years since she came here first. What a thing it is to look back on the past!’
‘A different thing for us all,’ said his father.
‘Yes, well, I suppose it is. All men have their experience. And all women too, though we tend to forget that. So she took the first day that offered. She can’t be unwilling to come. How did you put the invitation?’
‘I gave her the choice of several days,’ said Flavia.
‘And she took the first. Well, I was prepared for that. But she can’t feel any reluctance to darken these doors. You might almost say she was showing zest.’
‘She is coming to see her sons. There is no sign of any other purpose. You realized her eagerness to see them.’
‘Yes, so I did. I read her mind. I seemed to see right into it somehow. I sometimes find myself doing that. Somebody’s mind will lie right open before me. It is odd how we have these little individual powers. I suppose that is one of mine.’
‘It might be a dangerous one,’ said his wife.
‘Yes, in the wrong hands. We have to remember what is vested in us. It is a sort of trust.’
‘What of your plans for tomorrow?’ said his father. ‘You will be wise to give your minds to them. How will you sit at the table? There should be no uncertainty.’
‘Cassius and I in our usual places,’ said Flavia. ‘And Catherine opposite to you, with the boys on either side of her.’
‘Yes, well, she can’t sit in her usual place,’ said Cassius, with a little laugh. ‘In her old place, I mean. But it will be the first time she has sat at the side of the table in this house. I wonder if she will think of it.’
‘She will probably be thinking of other things,’ said Flavia. ‘She certainly will, if you are right in your account of her.’
‘Well, my impression was what I told you. As I said, it all seemed quite clear. But I shouldn’t be surprised if a thought of it goes through her mind.’
‘It would hardly be more than that.’
‘No, well, I suppose not. I expect I was right in my impression. Well, I wish the occasion was over. It gives me an odd, unsettled feeling. I never thought to sit at the head of my board, with one wife opposite to me, and another at my side. Well, I suppose I had my ways with women when I was young. It seems that I must have, though I did not give much thought to it. It has never been my habit to turn my eyes on myself. I just went on in my natural way.’
‘As you continue to do,’ said his father.
‘Well, I wonder how the situation will develop. I can’t help wondering how it will grow and spread, and make a difference in all our lives.’
‘To a certain extent,’ said his wife. ‘Probably to a great and growing extent. It is too soon to say.’
‘Yes, that is what I thought. You see how we really take the same view. We do that more often than you realize. Well, I am glad the occasion is upon us. The longer it is postponed, the oftener I shall live it in my mind. Catherine coming into this room! Well, I have seen that often enough. And I was glad enough not to see it any more at one time. I can tell you that I was.’
‘It is not our moment. It is hers and her sons’. I wish we could keep apart from it. As you know, I would have arranged to do so.’
‘Well, you came round to my view in the end. As I say, you often do. And we could not keep aloof beyond a point. We shall have to countenance the new condition of things. Well, I shan’t be able to help picturing the scene. You see, to me it is not the same as it is to you. To me it is the last of many.’
‘And to us all the first of many more,’ said Mr Clare.
Chapter 7
‘Is it permitted to be glad to see you again, ma’am?’
‘It is kind of you, Ainger. You are very little changed.’
‘It can seem as if an intervening chapter had not been written, ma’am.’
‘It may for the moment,’ said Catherine.
‘As you say, it is erroneous, ma’am.’
Ainger led the way to the drawing-room with a silent tread, and withdrew without making an announcement. It did not occur to him to treat the occasion as a normal one.
‘Well, Catherine, so here we all are before you,’ said Cassius, coming forward. ‘You can form your own judgement of everything. It is all open to your eyes. There has been no preparation for your coming. There is nothing to hide.’
His words died away as he ended. It seemed they would have been better not said. The scene did not need his direction; it would take its own course.
Catherine advanced with her quick, short steps, greeted her hosts without glancing at her sons, and turned and embraced them, with her eyes going openly over their faces. When she gave them her second glance, she was careful to give an equal moment to each. She sat down with their hands in hers, but released them as though fearing to be burdensome. Mr Clare and Flavia kept their eyes from the scene. Cassius stood with his on the ground, but now and then raised them and surveyed it. Not a word was said; it seemed that no one could speak. A chance movement made a sound and brought relief.
Ainger announced luncheon in a low tone that suggested it was an unsuitable necessity of the occasion. The move to the dining-room seemed at once a liberation and an exposure. Cassius gave some directions in his usual tones, and Guy lo
oked up as if startled by them. Catherine sat between her sons, and remained calm and aloof, as if she were already satisfied. When they were questioned about their meal, she hardly looked at them, leaving the matter to their stepmother.
‘Well, this is the first time the boys have joined us at luncheon,’ said Cassius.
‘It is time they did so,’ said his father. ‘It ought to have entered our minds.’
‘What does their own mother think?’ said Cassius, in a tone of taking a step that would have to be taken.
‘I have not the experience that would enable me to judge,’ said Catherine.
‘Flavia is a sound arbiter of such things.’
Catherine’s silence somehow gave full consent.
‘Now do you find them much altered after all these years?’
‘As much as I thought to find them. I should have recognized Fabian. Guy was only two when I left.’
‘Well, they have not wanted a mother,’ said Cassius, more loudly. ‘Have you ever wanted a mother, boys? Can you honestly say you have felt any lack in your lives?’
‘We have always wanted one in a way,’ said Fabian, rising in his turn to an effort that was before him. ‘We always knew we hadn’t one. Mater always let us know. But she has been the same to all of us.’
‘She has indeed. That is a thing that does not need saying, and that you are right to say.’
‘I used to wonder, when I first knew about things, if she would get tired of it. But she never did.’
‘Now there is a tribute, Flavia. What woman could ask more than that?’
Flavia heard her husband with her eyes down.
‘But that kind of stepmother makes you wonder about a real mother,’ said Fabian.
Catherine also looked down and silence followed.
‘Well, Catherine, how about your brother and sister?’ said Cassius. ‘Do you find much change in them?’
‘No, very little. They are nine years older and nothing more.’
‘Yes, that is what I thought. Nine years older and nothing more,’ said Cassius, somehow giving the words another meaning.
A faint sound of amusement came from Fabian, and Catherine smiled at him and looked away.
‘I declare he is like you, Catherine,’ said Cassius. ‘I caught it at that moment when you both smiled. There was a definite flash of resemblance.’
‘You used to say we were alike. I could even see it myself. And I think I see it now.’
‘And Guy? Do you see any likeness in him?’
‘No. Neither to you nor to me.’
Flavia looked up at the coupling of the words.
‘I suppose some ancestor accounts for him,’ said Cassius. ‘There is a portrait in the hall that is like both him and Tobias, our youngest boy.’
‘I see likenesses in all of them to their parents and each other,’ said Flavia.
‘Yes, my wife is a great person for giving equal attention to all. What is done for one, is done for the rest. You can be sure of that.’
‘I am sure of it,’ said Catherine.
‘Now what about the question of Fabian’s going to school? We feel he is getting too old for this life at home. So he is only to have another year of it.’
‘I did not know there had been any question.’
‘It does not sound as if there had,’ said Flavia.
‘A year is a long time,’ said Guy.
Catherine looked up, arrested by something in the tone.
‘Could they not go together?’
‘I fear they could not,’ said Flavia. “There are two years between them.’
‘Would not anything be better than a parting?’
‘Nothing would be worse than a breach of convention,’ said Cassius. ‘You don’t know a boy’s world.’
‘No, I do not,’ said Catherine.
Guy looked from his mother to his stepmother, and in a moment looked again.
‘Well, Guy, are you weighing the difference between them?’ said Cassius, in a tone that somehow addressed the company. ‘You are a fortunate boy to have two mothers. So far from having less than other boys, you have twice as much.’
A faint laugh from Catherine seemed to carry a load of memories.
‘Well, that was the line of the boy’s thought. And I declare he sets us an example. He is behaving in a natural manner, and I don’t blame him. We cannot go on in this stilted fashion, behaving as if we had something to be ashamed of. It gives a false impression of our family life, and of the atmosphere in which the boys have been brought up. Now, Fabian, can you honestly say that this is our usual situation?’
‘No, but the thing that is happening is not usual.’
‘And you think it justifies the change?’
‘Well, I think it makes it natural.’
‘And what do you think, Guy?’
‘I think it does too.’
‘Ah, it is a great occasion for you. A unique moment in your lives. A great many people live and die without an experience on this scale. You will be able to think and talk of it when you are a man.’
‘I don’t expect we shall ever talk of it, except to each other,’ said Guy, with tears in his voice.
‘Now whatever is it?’ said his father. ‘He is a strange child, Catherine. One never knows what is in his mind. Do you know what it is, Fabian?’
‘He doesn’t know which mother he belongs to most. He doesn’t know which he should like the best. He can never be sure abqut things.’
‘Oh, that is it, is it? That is it, my poor little son. Come to your father,’ said Cassius, drawing the boy to his side and continuing with his arm about him. ‘Father knows what you feel. But things will settle themselves. You need not worry about them. Just take your feelings as they come. They will alter and take their shape. You are not responsible for them. Take each day by itself.’
‘There are so many days,’ said Guy.
‘But only one at a time. “Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.” You must remember that. Well, what have I said now? What is there for you all to laugh at? I shall be afraid to open my mouth. And that will be a pity, as it seems that no one else can do so.’
‘Two mothers should be sufficient for any day,’ said Flavia, ‘when it is the usual provision for two lifetimes.’
‘Well, I can’t tell you which to like the better, my boy,’ said Cassius, relinquishing his son. ‘Not even Father can do that. Just love them in different ways; that is my advice.’
‘You love Mater better,’ said Catherine, in a low tone. ‘Because she is the mother you know. Because she will always be the mother you knew first.’
‘Yes, I do now. But perhaps I shall get to know you.’
‘Take each day as it comes,’ said his father again. ‘That is the only thing.’
‘Guy could never do that,’ said Fabian.
‘And neither could I,’ said Flavia. ‘Life is not a matter of days. Each one is a part of the whole.’
‘Well, everyone knows that,’ said her husband. ‘Why state such a thing as if it were a philosophic truth?’
‘The separate days, rooted in the past, carrying the future,’ said Catherine, as if to herself.
Guy looked again from her to Flavia, and the latter caught his eye and gave him a smile. He relaxed with a sigh, and Catherine saw the interplay and smiled from one to the other.
‘Well, it seems a happy occasion enough,’ said Cassius, with his eyes on them. ‘I don’t see anything sad or sinister about it. Does anyone? Do you, Fabian?’
‘No, but I think it ought to have a description of its own.’
‘Well, how would you describe it?’
‘Well, it is one I have always imagined. And it does what we wanted for us. We are getting to know...’
‘Mother,’ said Flavia, in a full, kind tone. ‘That is what you will call her. It is what you called her from the first. That is why I was called “Mater”, if you remember.’
‘We do remember, my dear,’ said Cassius. ‘A
nd it has become a title of honour for you. We all recognize it.’
‘Is it better to be called “Mother” than “Mater”?’ said Guy.
‘Which would you choose?’ said his stepmother.
‘Well, “they both mean the same thing. I think “Mater”.’
‘That has the meaning for him,’ said Catherine.
‘Which would be your choice, Fabian?’ said his father.
‘It would depend on what was the custom. It is that that makes the difference.’
‘Yes, it is that,’ said Catherine.
‘But your sacrifice is not wasted, Flavia,’ said Cassius, loudly. ‘No honest sacrifice ever is. It has its own meaning for you, and so for other people.’
‘I doubt if the one follows from the other. It seems to me that it may be wasted. But it was not very great.’
‘But it was nagging and insistent,’ said Cassius, in a tone that seemed to fit his words. ‘Striking you where it made you shrink and shiver, at every turn! But it won you your husband’s gratitude.’
‘Fabian remembered his mother. Some decision had to be made. I daresay it was the right one.’
‘It was, my dear, it was; the one that took no account of yourself. That is always the right one.’
‘I remember her now,’ said Fabian. ‘As she was when I first knew her, or as I thought she was.’
‘Well, well, the years have gone by since then,’ said Cassius. ‘Look at the difference they have made in you. They can’t pass over other people. They have not passed over your father.’
There were sounds outside the door of the approach of the younger children. After the interval necessary for Eliza to set Toby down and insist on his entrance, it opened to admit them. Henry and Megan, with an air of following directions, came up and shook hands with Catherine. Toby stood still and surveyed her.
‘Shake hands with Mrs Clare,’ said Cassius.
‘No,’ said his son.
‘Is she Mrs Clare?’ said Henry.
‘You heard what was said,’ said his grandfather.
‘I thought Mater was that.’
The Present and the Past Page 9
