'Very well; I'll have it drawn out, and send it down to you.'
'Fiddlesticks! Take a sheet of paper and write it now. I'll wait till you're ready.'
The solicitor, sighing over this outrage to the decorum of legal delays, but aware that his client was of a peremptory nature, did her bidding, and calling in a clerk, with him witnessed her signature. She departed, feeling singularly pleased with herself, for whatever happened Frank would never suffer from financial difficulties, and she thought, not without sly amusement, of his extreme surprise when he found himself at her demise a man in comfortable circumstances.
7
DURING his fortnight at home Frank observed his father and mother with great attention, and realized, really for the first time, how enormous were the sacrifices they had made for his sake. Every day, fine or rainy, old Dr Hurrell drove out to visit his scattered patients, and in the afternoon trudged round on foot. From five till seven he saw patients in the surgery, and often enough was called up in the middle of the night to go to a farmhouse five miles away in the very heart of the country. To all these people he dispensed the fruits of his long experience, medical knowledge perhaps a little rough-and-ready, but serviceable enough; and of a surety his old-fashioned drugs, his somewhat drastic surgery, were more popular with yokel and farmer than would have been any new-fangled methods of treatment. Besides, he gave to all and sundry good, cheery advice, and a piece of his mind when they did what they shouldn't, so that it was no wonder not a practitioner for twenty miles around was so beloved and trusted. But it was a monotonous life, without rest, without a single break from year's end to year's end, ill-paid if paid at all; and for thirty years the good man and his wife had looked upon every sovereign earned as held in trust for their only son. They had demanded economy neither at Oxford nor afterwards in London, but rather pressed money upon him. They had received with proud enthusiasm his desire to take up consulting practice, though knowing he must for a long time still be a charge upon them, and insisted that he should rent in Harley Street the very best rooms obtainable. The constant drudgery had been happiness unalloyed, because it gave every chance to the beloved boy whose brilliant talents seemed a thing so surprising that they could only thank God humbly for an unmerited mercy.
'Don't you get tired of the practice sometimes, father?' asked Frank.
'It's a matter of habit, and it's all I'm fit for – country practice. And then I have my reward, because some day you may be at the head of the profession; and when afterwards they write your life, a chapter will be devoted to the old G.P. at Ferne, who first gave you a love for medicine.'
'But we shan't work very much longer,' said Mrs Hurrell, 'for soon we shall be able to afford to retire and live close to you. Sometimes we do want to see you often, Frank. It's very hard to be separated from you for so long at a time.'
There was trembling in that strong even voice, so that Frank felt powerless. How could he, for reasons they would never understand, destroy that edifice of hope on which they had spent so many years of striving? He could never cause them such bitter, bitter pain. So long as they lived he must bear the yoke which they had put upon him, and go on with the steady, not inglorious routine of his existence in London.
'You've been very good to me,' he said, 'and I'll try so to live as to prove to you that I'm grateful for all you've done. I'll be very ambitious, so that you may not think you've wasted your time.'
But Frank's humour was inclined to the satiric when he arrived at Jeyston, the Castillyon's place in Dorsetshire. Miss Ley had finally decided that her health prevented her from indulging in any dissipation, but Mrs Barlow-Bassett with Reggie came by the same train as himself, and Paul's mother, who with her companion made up the small party, a few hours later.
A wizened little woman with white hair and a preposterous cap, the elder Mrs Castillyon babbled incessantly of nothing in particular, but for the most part of her own family, the Bain-bridges of Somersetshire, whereof now she was the only living representative. Immensely proud of her stock, she took small pains to hide her contempt for all whose names figured less importantly than her own in the Landed Gentry. Ignorant, narrow, ill-educated and ill-bred, she pursued her course through this vale of sorrow with a most comfortable assurance of her superiority to the world in general; and not only in her husband's time, but even now that Paul reigned in his stead, by virtue of the purse-strings, whereof she kept tight hold, tyrannized systematically over Jeyston and all the villages surrounding. Her abominable temper, unchecked since in early youth she awoke to the fact that she was an heiress of old family, was freely vented on Miss Johnston, her companion, a demure maiden of forty, who ate with admirable complacency the bread of servitude; but also to some extent on her daughter-in-law, whom the old lady detested heartily, never hesitating to remind her that it was her good money which she so lightly squandered. Paul alone, whom she spoke of always as The Squire, had influence with her, for it was Mrs Castillyon's belief, innate as the capacity of ducks to swim, that the holder of this title was God's representative on earth, a person of superhuman attributes whose word was law, and whose commands must be obeyed; and Frank, who had seen Mr Castillyon somewhat flouted in London as a notorious bore, was amazed to find that here he was ultimate arbiter of all questions. His judgement was unquestioned in matters of opinion as in matters of fact; his ideas upon art or science were as necessarily final as his political theories were the only ones an honest man could hold. When he had spoken all was said, and it would have been as rational to contradict him as to argue with an earthquake. But even Paul was relieved when his mother's periodic visits came to an end, for her forcible and unique repartee made intercourse somewhat difficult.
'Thank God I'm not a Castillyon,' she said habitually. 'I'm a Bainbridge, and I think you'll have some difficulty in finding a better family in this part of England. You Castillyons hadn't a penny to bless yourselves with till I married into you.'
At dinner on his first evening Frank attempted to join intelligently in the conversation, but soon found that nothing he could say in the least interested the company; he had imagined innocently that it was ill-mannered to speak of one's ancestors, but now learned that there were households wherein it was the staple of conversation: this rested chiefly between the elder Mrs Castillyon, the Squire, and his brother Bainbridge, agent for the property, an obese man with a straggling beard, rather untidy and dressed in shabby old clothes, who talked very slowly, with a broad Dorsetshire accent, and to Frank seemed not a whit better that the farmers with whom he mostly consorted. They spoke besides of local affairs, of the neighbouring gentry, and of the Rector's vulgar independence. Afterwards Grace Castillyon went up to Frank.
'Aren't they awful?' she asked. 'I have to put up with this day after day for weeks at a time. Paul's mother rubs her money and her family into me; Bainbridge, that lout who should dine with the housekeeper instead of with us, discusses the weather and the crops; and Paul plays at being God Almighty.'
But Mrs Barlow-Bassett was somewhat impressed by the pomposity of her environment, and took an early opportunity again to peruse the account given by the worthy Burke of the family whose guest she was; she found the page much thumbed and boldly marked with blue pencil. Every article in the house had its history, which old Mrs Castillyon the elder narrated with gusto, for though from her exalted standpoint despising the family into which she had married, she had no doubt they were a great deal better than anyone else. Here were the books collected by Sir John Castillyon, grandfather of the present Squire; there the Eastern curiosities of the Admiral his great-uncle; in fine array were portraits of frail ladies in the time of Charles II, and of fox-hunting, red-faced gentlemen in the reign of King George. Mrs Bassett had never so felt her own insignificance.
After two days Frank retired to his room to compose a wrathful letter to Miss Ley.
O WISE WOMAN!
I know now why the thought of a visit to Jeyston drove you to such a state of desperation; I am
so bored that I feel perfectly hysterical, and except that I dare not risk to make myself ridiculous even in the privacy of my bedchamber, would fling myself on the floor and howl. It would have been charitable to warn me, but I take it that you had a base desire I should eat the bread of hos pitable persons, and then betray to you all their secrets: to gain your ends you have stifled the voice of conscience, and deafened your ears to the promptings of good feeling. It would serve you right if I discoursed for six pages on things in general, but I so overflow with indignation that, even though I feel a mean swine because I abuse my hosts, I must let myself go a little. Imagine a Georgian house, spacious and well-proportioned and dignified, filled with the most delicate furniture of Chippendale and Sheraton, portraits on the walls by Sir Peter Lely and Romney, and splendid tapestries; a park with wide meadows and magnificent trees before which you feel it possible to kneel down and worship; all around the country is undulating, lovely and fertile; and it belongs, lock, stock, and barrel, to people who have not a noble idea, no thought above the commonplace, no emotion that is not petty and sordid. Pray observe also that they heartily despise me because I am what they call a materialist. It makes my blood boil to think that this wonderful place is enjoyed by a pompous ass, a silly woman, an ill-tempered harridan, and a loutish boor, all of whom, if things went by deserts, would inhabit the back-room of a grocer's shop in Peckham Rye. Bainbridge, who will eventually come into the estate unless Mrs Castillyon can bring herself so to endanger her figure as to produce an heir, is a curious phenomenon: he went to Eton and spent a year at Oxford, from which he was sent down because he could pass no examination, but in manners and conversation is no better than a labourer at thirteen shillings a week. He has lived all his life here, and goes to London once in two years to see the Agricultural Show. But let me not think of him. The day is passed by Mrs Barlow-Bassett listening with open mouth to Mrs Castillyon's family anecdotes, by Reggie in eating and drinking and sucking up to the Squire, by myself in desperation. I fancied that I might get entertainment from Miss Johnston, the companion, and was at some pains to make myself amiable; but she has the soul of a sycophant. When I asked whether she was never bored, she looked at me severely, and answered: 'Oh no, Dr Hurrell, I'm never bored by gentlefolks.' Whenever there is a pause in the conversation or Mrs Castillyon is out of temper, she points to some picture or ornament of which she has already heard the history a thousand times, and asks how it came into the family. 'Fancy your not knowing that!' cries the old lady, and breaks into an endless rigmarole about some beery Squire, happily deceased, or about a simpering dame whose portrait shows that her liver from tight-lacing must have been quite out of shape. The things a single woman is driven to for thirty pounds a year and board and lodging ! I would far sooner be a cook. Oh, how I long for the smokingroom in Old Queen Street and your conversation! I am coming to the conclusion that I only like two kinds of society – yours on the one hand, and that of the third-class actor on the other: where the men are all blackguards, the women frankly immoral, and no fuss is made when you drop an aitch, I feel thoroughly comfortable. I don't think I have any overwhelming desire to omit aspirates, but it is a relief to be in company where no notice would be taken if I did.
Yours ever,
FRANK HURRELL
Miss Ley would have used her sharp eyes at Jeyston to more purpose than Frank, and seen enacted a little comedy which on one side verged somewhat to the tragic. Tired and unhappy, Grace Castillyon with all her soul looked forward to Reggie's visit as a respite from the anxiety of her life; for of late more than ever tormented by her conscience, only the actual presence of her lover was able to make her forget how abominably she treated Paul. She had learnt to see the tenderness behind her husband's pompous manner, and his complete loving confidence gave a very despicable air to her behaviour; she felt guilty before him and vile. But with Reggie by her side Grace knew she would forget everything save her insatiable passion; she resolved only to see his good points, and forget how ill he had used her; it seemed that she could only keep the bare shreds of her self-respect by holding on to his love, and if she lost that nothing would remain but the dark night of despair and shame. And her heart rejoiced because at Jeyston no conflicting desires would take Reggie from her side; they could walk together delightfully, and in the quiet country enjoy somewhat of that great bliss which glorified the memories of their early friendship.
But to her dismay, Mrs Castillyon found that Reggie systematically avoided to be alone with her. The morning after his arrival she asked him to come for a stroll in the park, and he accepted with alacrity; but after going upstairs to put on her hat she found that Paul and Mrs Bassett waited for her in the hall.
'Reggie says you've offered to show us the park,' said Mrs Bassett. 'It'll be so nice for us all to go together.'
'Charming,' answered Mrs Castillyon.
She shot an angry glance at Reggie, which he sought not to elude, but took calmly, with a faint smile of amusement; and when they walked he dawdled so as to be well within earshot of the others. After luncheon again he remained with Frank, and it was not till the evening that Mrs Castillyon had opportunity even to say half a dozen words.
'Why did you ask your mother to come out with us this morning?' she asked hurriedly, in a low voice. 'You knew I wanted to talk to you alone.'
'My dear girl, we must be careful. Your mother-in-law is watching us like a cat, and I'm sure she suspects something. I don't want to get you into a mess.'
'I must see you alone; I must talk to you,' cried Mrs Castillyon desperately.
'Don't be a fool!'
'Well, I shall wait for you here after the others have gone to bed.'
'You'll jolly well have to wait, because I'm not going to take any risks.'
She gave him a look of hatred, but could not answer, for at that moment Miss Johnston joined them, and Reggie, with alertness unusual to him, engaged her in the conversation. Grace, for the moment discountenanced, and careless if she betrayed her distress, stared at him fixedly, wondering what was in that mind which revelled in crooked ways. She felt horribly powerless in his hands, and knew, though it sickened her to know it, that now he would play with her cruelly, catlike, till he was sufficiently amused, and not till then deal the final blow. For two days more he pursued the same tactics, more carefuly still, so that he never saw Mrs Castillyon, even for a moment, except when others were present; and he appeared to take a malicious pleasure in hurting her. He made extravagant compliments which excited Paul's ponderous hilarity, and using her like an intimate friend with whom he was on confidential terms, chaffed and bantered and laughed at her. Old Mrs Castillyon, who liked to be amused, took a great fancy to him, which was no way diminished when she discovered, with the clear vision of dislike, that her daughter-in-law winced at these good-natured jokes. Grace bore them with a smiling face, with little shrieks of laughter; but it seemed there was a great raw wound in her heart, which Reggie, callously joyful because he inflicted pain, probed with a red-hot knife. When she was alone and could surrender to her wretchedness, she wept bitterly, wondering, half mad with agony, why her passionate love should be repaid by this inexplicable hatred. She had done everything possible to make Reggie love her, and beside giving him her whole soul, had been very good to him.
'He's found me a real brick all through,' she sobbed. 'I'd have done anything to help him.'
Of late even she had sought to influence him for his own weal, persuading him to drink less and to be less extravagant. In her adoration she was capable of any sacrifice for his sake; and the result was only that he loathed her. She could not understand. At length she could bear the torment no longer, and since Reggie gave no opportunity, determined at all costs to make one. But it was the last day of the visit, and he doubled his precautions. With an inkling that Grace would force an interview, he took care not to be alone for one moment, and sighed with relief when, after a smiling good night, he retired with the other men to the smoking-room. But Mrs Castill
yon was decided not to let him go without an explanation of his behaviour; and although the danger of her contemplated step was enormous, her frame of mind was so desperate that she did not hesitate. When Reggie, chuckling slily because he had circumvented her, went to his bedroom, he found Grace quietly seated, waiting for him.
'Good Lord! what are you doing here?' he cried, for once startled from his self-possession. 'Frank might very well have come in with me.'
She did not answer his question, but stood up and faced him, more haggard and pale for the magnificence of her gown and the brilliancy of her diamonds. She sought to compose herself and to talk deliberately.
'Why have you been avoiding me all these days?' she asked. 'I want an explanation. What are you up to?'
'Oh, for God's sake, don't bring that up again! I'm sick to death of it. You didn't suppose I was coming down here to stay with your husband, and then play the fool with you? After all, I flatter myself I'm a gentleman.'
Mrs Castillyon gave a low angry laugh.
'It's rather late in the day to develop honourable sentiments, isn't it? Haven't you got some better story to tell me than that?'
'What d'you take me for? Why should you always think I'm lying to you?'
'Because experience has shown me that you generally are.'
He shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette, then looked at Grace with deliberation, as though meditating what he should now do.
'Haven't you got anything to say to me at all?' she asked, her voice suddenly breaking.
'Nothing, except that you'd better go back to your own room. It's devilish unsafe for you to be here, and I can tell you I don't want to get into a mess.'
'But what does it all mean?' she cried desperately. 'Don't you care for me any more?'
'Well, if you insist, it means that I think the whole thing had better stop.'
'Reggie!'
'I want to turn over a new leaf. I'm going to give up racketing about, and settle down. I'm sick of the whole thing.'
Merry Go Round Page 23
