“It is not wrong to ask questions,” said Leah.
“It can seem the most unsympathetic of failings,” said her father.
“Why doesn’t she sit at the end of the table, if she is going to be Father’s wife? Isn’t she equal to him?”
“She isn’t until she is married,” said Hengist. “Then she will be a little better, because she is a woman.”
“Now I don’t know what to say,” said Miss Starkie.
“Neither do they,” said the new-comer, half-smiling. “That is the trouble.”
“And one that must be surmounted, Mrs. Chilton.”
“So she has said it,” said Leah.
Teresa Chilton was an arresting-looking woman of hardly middle height, with a clear, pale skin, dark hair wound about a full-shaped head, features at once ill-drawn and delicate, and eyes of a brown that was almost gold. Her expression was aloof and absent, and she appeared to notice less than she did. Her voice was low and rapid, with little rise and fall.
“Is Lavinia like her mother?” she said to Ninian, as she looked round. “Several of them are so like you.”
“Yes, there is a great likeness, greater now she has grown up. Not that she has done so. She is two years younger than Egbert. She has done much for me, and I am grateful to her. But I am glad to lift the burden now. Agnes is the child we can’t account for.”
“I am the only one with really blue eyes,” said Agnes, turning them on Teresa.
The latter kept hers on Ninian.
“You can’t undo what is past. It is the one thing in a safe place.”
“It can be left behind. That must happen with many things.”
“Will she and Lavinia be equal?” said Hengist. “Or will one be above the other?”
“What a question!” said Miss Starkie. “It does not deserve an answer.”
“It had better have one,” said Ninian. “She will be my wife, and Lavinia the eldest of my girls. There is an end of it.”
“Mr. Middleton, may I make a suggestion? Would Mater be a good form of address? It is the Latin word for Mother, and would be a compromise between the actual word and familiarity. Of course it is only my own idea. But we can never suggest better ideas than our own.”
“Well, no one else can offer one at all,” said Ninian, seeing Teresa’s indifference. “We must accept it and be grateful.”
“Well, it is my habit to put my ideas at the general disposal. There is little to be said for keeping them to oneself. There is the chance of their being of help.”
“Everyone knows that Mater is the Latin word for Mother,” said Leah.
“Well, I am glad you do. It would not be to my credit, if you did not. It was natural to mention it in this connection.”
“They are not usually with us,” said Ninian, in reassurance to Teresa. “Their presence is in honour of yours. I don’t know if you recognise the tribute.”
“Lavinia is with you in the evenings, Father,” said Agnes.
“Well, she knows what I shall want of her now. And I trust her, as I always have.”
“May I give you some more wine?” said Egbert to Teresa, to cover the moment.
“Now add the two words, Egbert,” said Miss Starkie. “Set the example. We depend on you.”
“What are we making a matter of?” said Ninian. “A word is no more than it is.”
“We have come upon an enigmatic example, Mr. Middleton.”
“Is Father’s marrying supposed to be a good thing for us?” said Hengist.
“It will be,” said Miss Starkie. “It will not be a matter of supposing.”
“I don’t see how it can be much good,” said Leah.
“They are children,” said Ninian to Teresa. “I don’t know if you are familiar with the race.”
“She must have been a child herself,” said Hengist.
“Now what should it be?” said Miss Starkie.
“Say it again, as you should,” said Ninian.
“She must have—Mrs. Chilton must have been a child herself.”
“They feel the name takes them out of their world,” said Teresa.
“Do you know, I think they do, Mrs. Chilton? It is a step for them to address an adult on equal terms. It is not so long since children said sir and ma’am. And I think it was a good custom.”
“Then used children to be the same as servants?” said Leah.
“They were all supposed to show respect to those above them.”
“I don’t much care after all to be called Mater,” said Teresa. “I don’t see any difference between the word and Mother. They have the same meaning. I am not their mother, and cannot be. That seems to answer the question.”
“Of course I meant the suggestion to depend on your wishes, Mrs. Chilton. If it does not meet them, it is as if it had not been made.”
“Well, make another, Miss Starkie,” said Lavinia. “We are still in doubt.”
“I hardly think there is another. It is either equality or the maternal suggestion. Those are the alternatives.”
“Some families would say Mrs. Middleton,” said Agnes. “I mean after they were married.”
“This family will not,” said her father.
“I quite agree with you, Mr. Middleton,” said Miss Starkie. “It has not a suitable touch. I should not care for it.”
“I don’t mind if they use my Christian name,” said Teresa.
“We should feel honoured to do so,” said Egbert.
“I shall not say anything,” said Hengist. “And neither will Leah.”
“Well, Lavinia and Egbert can say Teresa, and the rest of you nothing,” said Ninian. “That will serve for the time.”
“May I say Teresa, Father?” said Agnes.
“Well, if you have permission,”
“Yes, she may,” said Teresa, hardly uttering the words.
“Well, we are back at the starting-point,” said Miss Starkie, lightly. “It is like a race run in a circle.”
“Well, it is run,” said Ninian. “And I suppose it had to be.”
“And there is a victory, Mr. Middleton. I do not dispute it. But it seems rather an empty one.”
“Because we are to say nothing?” said Leah. “That seems to make it empty. But the others are to say something.”
“It is all rather much for you, Leah?” said Miss Starkie, smiling. “Well, we will leave it for the time.”
“Is she older than he is?” said Hengist. “I mean, is she older than Father?”
“So you see a name has its uses,” said Miss Starkie. “We find it when we do without one.”
“But she knew you meant her, when you said she,” said Leah to her brother.
“Do you know if she is older?” said Hengist to Miss Starkie.
“No, it is nothing to do with me.”
“But that is when people want to know things the most.”
“Oh, I hope not, Hengist. What a view to take! I am glad it is not mine.”
“I am a little older than your father,” said Teresa, turning her eyes from a portrait to Lavinia’s face.
“Yes, there is the real likeness,” said Selina. “It is a portrait of her mother.”
“I thought it was of herself at first. But of course it is not young enough.”
“It is a greater likeness than has ever been known,” said Agnes. “It must be nice to be like someone like that.”
“Poor like!” said Miss Starkie. “You are giving it a great deal to do.”
“That may be why Father was fond of Lavinia,” said Hengist. “Anyone so like someone else could almost do instead of her.”
“Not in this case,” said Ninian. “And not in any real one. No one can take the place of anyone else.”
“Lavinia did take this one,” said Leah. “But she has to go back from it now.”
“Why, what an odd phrase!” said Miss Starkie.
“It meant what she meant it to mean,” said Hengist.
“Dear, dear, how you overwork your words! I feel quite so
rry for them.”
“I have never seen Lavinia cry before,” said Leah, in a sudden awed tone.
“You need not see it now,” said Hengist, roughly.
“No, do not notice it,” said Miss Starkie, speaking very low. “You know how you feel when you cry.”
“I sometimes do it to make people notice me.”
“That is because you are young,” said Hengist.
“I will cry with Lavinia,” said Hugo. “And then people will have to notice us. And I hope they will be upset.”
“Egbert, have you taken a vow of silence?” said Ninian.
“It would be better if I had, Father. It would be an excuse.”
“It is not such a difficult occasion.”
“I think it is,” said Teresa, without a smile. “It has to be; and not only for them.”
“You are finding it so? You need not be alarmed. They are no worse than they seem.”
“I am not alarmed,” said Teresa, as if she might be other things.
“Would you like to have some children?” said Leah, looking at her. “I mean some of your own?”
“She could hardly want any more of mine,” said Ninian.
“We can’t help being here,” said Hengist.
“Now who suggested that you could speak?” said Miss Starkie. “You should think before you speak.”
“I don’t feel I am here,” said Hugo. “And I hope nobody knows I am.”
“I should not be,” said Egbert, “if it were not for Lavinia. I get my reality from her, and always shall.”
“There, Lavinia!” said Miss Starkie. “There is a foundation for your future.”
“And what is that?” said Ninian.
“Her brother’s dependence on her, Mr. Middleton. It is a rare and real thing,” said Miss Starkie, looking aside as she relinquished restraint.
“They must release each other in time for their lives to grow.”
“Releasing is a very wicked thing,” murmured Egbert.
“What did you say?” said Ninian.
“I said it to Lavinia, Father.”
“Now will you say it to me?”
“I said that releasing was—might be a wicked thing.”
“Oh!” said Ninian, in light dismissal of this. “The same old puzzle for you! That I do not belong to anyone, body and soul.”
“Does he not?” said Lavinia to her brother.
Ninian looked sharply at her, but checked his words.
“How much will you belong to me?” said Teresa. “With all this force drawing you away.”
“As much as it is right to belong to anyone. As much as I shall ask you to belong to me. But as much as that for our lives.”
“There is the difference,” said Lavinia. “It cannot come to an end. No, I shall not repeat it, Father. We must be allowed to speak to each other. We have not been struck dumb.”
“I think people should talk to me,” said Hugo. “It is their duty to include me in the occasion. Suppose I felt I was an alien after all!”
“I will talk to you,” said Teresa. “And ask you about this family, and all that is hidden in it. I feel I have never met one before.”
“You have not met this one. A family is itself. And of course things are hidden in it. They could hardly be exposed. You will be wise not to know about them. Think of Miss Starkie, spending her life trying to keep them hidden.”
“I should not aim at her level. But I need some help on my own.”
“No, you would try to use it. You must live your life with Ninian, and forget everything besides. It is the best chance for you and him.”
“But not a very good one. He will not forget everything but me. There will be too many reminders. I should like to have a life that was what it seemed. But I see no hope of it.”
“It is a pity you did not know Ninian’s family, as you came to know him.”
“Yes. He simply said he was a widower with a mother and five children.”
“Simply!” said Hugo. “And you thought you could have a life that was what it seemed! Not that what it seems is not enough. Cannot you be content with it?”
“Content to live on the surface, with all this simmering underneath?”
“Why not be thankful that that is where it is?”
“I should think your life is very much what it seems.”
“I am afraid it is. I am so ashamed that I show it. I should not dare to share it with anyone, in case she assumed that things were hidden in it, and asked me what they were.”
“It would be good to hear there was none.”
“But a shared life might bring them. And I should not know how to deal with them. I have only looked on.”
“What are you doing now?” said Ninian. “Do you feel it is your duty to converse with the guest, in accordance with some social code? It is not a formal occasion.”
“We are talking deeply. And deep things never come to an end. And almost everything seems to be deep.”
“You must not tire Teresa. She is not used to a large family.”
“That is what I felt. I thought I should be a rest for her.”
“It hardly sounds as if you were.”
“He gave me calming advice,” said Teresa. “I am to live on the surface and forget what is beneath. Your past with your wife and daughter would be thrust down and forgotten.”
“My daughter! Is that never to be laid to rest? Things could not have gone on much longer. Her life must develop apart from mine.”
“She may feel it is happening in the opposite way.”
“So it is. But it will happen with her in the end. It is her time to be free. It is strange that people do not see it. And it is stranger that you should belong to them. It is something I did not look for.”
“It is for yourself that you are making the change, my son,” said Selina, in a low tone. “If it were not, you would not be wise to make it. As it is, you are.”
“How few people would realise that!” said Hugo. “It is pleasant to hear it stated.”
“Then in what way am I a culprit? That is how you all see me.”
“In your way of doing it, Father,” said Egbert, also speaking low. “You could have chosen a better one.”
“Then I should not have done it,” said Ninian, drily. “I see I took the only one.”
“I wish I was not the cause of all this,” said Teresa.
“It had to come,” said Ninian. “We see it was the time. I will not have it come again.”
“You can feel you are a martyr, Mrs. Chilton,” said Hugo. “So you should be experiencing ecstasy.”
“A martyr also has honour. I have neither the one thing nor the other. But I almost feel it is what I am. And it seems that the same might be said of someone else.”
“Then do not say it,” said Ninian. “That is a reason why you should not. Do you think it is the way to serve her? You are surely too wise.”
“It may serve her in the end.”
“Why do you say so?”
“It was what came into my mind. Well, she has her brother. Perhaps the others need more pity.”
“No, they give it,” said Hugo. “And it does no harm, when it has enough contempt in it. And their pity has.”
“Oh, I have not a brood of little martyrs,” said Ninian to Teresa. “I don’t know why you think so.”
“It might be a definition of a young family. Childhood can be a troubled time.”
“The fashion has changed. It used to be the happiest of our lives. Perhaps the truth lies in between.”
“It may lie anywhere. And where it is, it often stays.”
“Does wisdom lie here?” said Selina, smiling at Ninian. “The problems of your household may be safe in these hands.”
“They will not be in them. They are nothing to do with her. She is to be my wife, not the mother of children who are not hers, and the rectifier of mistakes she has not made. That would be a wrong demand. And it seems I have done enough wrong. It is each other we
want, not what we can claim from each other. That must be clear.”
“Well, it is, my son,” said Selina.
“Do all men have two wives?” said Leah’s voice. “I mean before they die.”
“No, of course not,” said Miss Starkie. “But when they lose the first wife, they sometimes have a second.”
“But they would always like the first one best?”
“No, it would depend on many things.”
“The first would be the real choice,” said Hengist.
“I would never be a second,” said Leah. “I wonder she agreed to it.”
“I wonder she did,” said Ninian. “I am grateful to her. And so should you be, if you think of my happiness.”
“We haven’t ever thought of it,” said Hengist. “We didn’t know you weren’t happy. And we didn’t know she was coming.”
“Well, you know she is here now.”
“Yes, we can see her.”
“And she is good to look at, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but so is she,” said Hengist, looking at his mother’s portrait. “I think she is better. I don’t think she can ever have been quite so good. Even if she was like her. And they are not.”
“Dear, dear, I find the pronouns too much,” said Miss Starkie. “I wish we could dispense with them.”
“No. I have never been quite so good,” said Teresa.
“It is a pity she can’t hear her,” said Leah. “She might be pleased.”
“Now should not little people be seen and not heard?” said Miss Starkie, seeing no other solution. “I find myself favouring the old ideas.”
“They needn’t listen to us,” said Hengist. “I don’t think she does. She is only looking at Lavinia and her.”
“Cannot they say Mamma or Mother of their own mother?” said Teresa. “It would be of some help.”
“They do not remember her,” said Ninian, “and so do not speak of her. It makes them uncertain how to do it.”
“Now I am sure that they—your father and Mrs. Chilton have had enough of you,” said Miss Starkie. “It has been kind to be patient with you for so long.”
“Your patience has to hold out,” said Teresa.
“If it did not, I could not be an educationist, Mrs. Chilton.”
“I did not know such people were distinguished by patience,” said Ninian. “It was not my experience.”
“She meant she could not be a governess,” said Hengist to Leah.
The Mighty and Their Fall Page 4
