Elders and Betters (21 page)

“Well, I don't feel much joy yet,” said Anna. “It seems a feeling rather foreign to the occasion. I have not exactly found it that kind of day.”

“A lifetime will make up for it,” said Esmond.

“You do not congratulate your sister?” said Benjamin.

“Oh, of course they do,” said Jenney.

“Do you—does she so misunderstand us?” said Bernard. “We have done it in our own way.”

“Oh, I understand you,” said Anna.

“I can see why Aunt Sukey left you her money,” said Bernard. “I almost think you ought to have had it, and that is a great deal to say.”

“I don't think I ought to have been left anything. Except perhaps some sort of remembrance. But I can't help what has happened. I don't see why I should have any feeling of guilt. I should have more reason, if Aunt Sukey had been dissatisfied with me, instead of showing herself rather too much the other way.”

“You feel it to be that?” said Claribel.

“Well, too much for some people's minds,” said Anna. “It is a matter of seeing rather than feeling. Now, Father, settle down and rest. You are as white as a ghost, and we don't want to have you following in Aunt Sukey's wake.”

As Benjamin obeyed, his face told its own tale, one of almost incredulous gratification that a child of his did not desire his death.

“Will Anna be rich now?” said Reuben, who had not failed in attention. “Shall we stay in this house, or move to a better one?”

“Hush, hush. We shall stay here, of course,” said Jenney.

“How did Father know about Aunt Sukey's will?” said Esmond, addressing no one in particular.

“Your uncle told me before I left his house,” said Benjamin. “Your aunt's papers were in her desk. She had told him where to find them.”

“And he lost no time in acting on the information,” said Bernard. “The scene of her death was also another scene for him. And he does not seem to have disguised it.”

“His hopes met a speedy fall,” said Esmond, laughing in pure amusement. “It is clear what was the main point to him about the event.”

“Heavens, is it?” said Anna. “I am afraid that I shall not be a popular character. But I am used to that in that house. I don't think I have made an appeal to anyone but Aunt Sukey. And as she was the one who appealed to me, it is fair enough. Terence and I meet to cross swords, otherwise words, pretty often; but otherwise my comings and goings take place in an atmosphere of indifference. And I suppose if the feeling remains at that, I shall be fortunate.”

“If you gave them the money back, they would be pleased with you,” said Reuben.

“No, no, they would not; they would be pleased with the money, and regard it as theirs by right. It is precious little that I should get out of it. They would probably despise me for thinking so little was due to myself.”

“I don't think you ought to do that,” said Jenney. “It would not be what Miss Donne wished. It would be no good to make a will, if people did not abide by it. And people never do give up anything, do they?”

“The will has caused surprise,” said Benjamin to his children. “We must recognise that. Your Aunt Jessica knew that her sister had made it, but believed she had destroyed it and kept an old one in her own favour. It seems that she had done such things before, as a means of relieving her feelings. Her last chapter was indeed a hard and sad one.”

“And did she destroy the old will in this case?” said Esmond.

“It appears that she must have done so. She had been burning papers, when Anna saw her, and there was no sign of it in her desk. We can only conclude that she did.”

“It might have saved trouble to keep a few odd wills by her for regular use,” said Bernard.

“Perhaps she burnt the wrong one by mistake.” said Claribel.

“That is what I was going to say,” said Anna. “But she was too much mistress of herself for that. I only know that
she had been burning something; and whatever it was, it was a weight off her mind. And I was glad she had got to the stage of relief, as she had clearly been in a different one. Poor Aunt Sukey, she ought not to have had that kind of end.”

“Neither ought the family who had housed her,” said Esmond.

“There was a smell of burning in this house, when I came back for some books,” said Reuben.

“It could hardly have carried from Aunt Sukey's room,” said Esmond.

“There was a live coal on this rug,” said Anna. “It spurted out of the fire. It was a good thing I was here to stop it from smouldering. I had just come back from Aunt Sukey, and could have dispensed with being startled at that moment.”

“But you didn't know that she was dead,” said Reuben.

“No, but I knew she was ill and exhausted. It gave me a sort of nervous feeling to be with her. It seems that I ought to have guessed more than I did. But I went back with Father, full of faith and hope in the result of my soothing and reading and all of it. It makes me feel foolish now. It did, when I met the family and heard the truth.”

“The shock makes you exaggerate things,” said Jenney. “Dear me, what a day it has been! Well, it is not all bad news; that is one thing.”

“Isn't it?” said Anna, looking at her with her brows drawn. “Oh, you mean the bequest or whatever it is. Well I must say I think the bad news preponderates.”

“You are right that it is a bequest,” said Esmond. “You will have to meet Aunt Jessica and all of them, in the character of usurper of their dues.”

“You seem to take a questionable pleasure in the awkward side of my situation.”

“Well, a pure pleasure could only come from being in it himself,” said Bernard.

“I wonder what Terence will think,” said Reuben. “I
don't think that he will mind as much as the others.”

“And surely Aunt Jessica will not mind,” said Anna. “If she does, her attitude to things is a strange pose enough.”

“Terence never feels like anyone else. I think he will just be amused because people mind.”

“Why should there be all this minding?” said Anna, looking perplexed. “They are not so fond of money, are they? I should not have supposed that they would give a thought to that aspect of Aunt Sukey's death.”

“Then what actuated our uncle in the course he took, on learning of it?” said Esmond.

“Oh, I expect he had to find out about the business side of things. He would feel he must do the part of a man at such a time. You know what you would feel, yourself.”

“We do, now you tell us,” said Bernard. “And I am better adapted to the part than I thought. But I don't think it often needs to be done.”

“Anna has done a woman's part,” said Claribel. “And now she has the human part of accepting the reward.”

“I wish you would all stop talking about me, as if I were some kind of criminal,” said Anna. “Why am I a worse person than any of you? And why is Uncle Thomas a culprit, because he does something that has to be done, without making any bones about it? It had to be done at some time, and it may have been the best opportunity.”

“It was,” said Esmond; “it was the first.”

“You have not come out so well under the test,” said his sister, looking at him. “You have shown yourself as jealous and grudging as could well be. You would rather that I had nothing, than something you did not share. And I did not want it to happen as it has. I should have preferred some remembrance of Aunt Sukey, chosen for me by herself. But 1 was not asked what I would have. No thought was given to my personal feelings. I don't even know what the inheritance is; I suppose investments or something. Even Reuben could only suggest that I should give it up.
I believe no sister ever had such curmudgeonly brothers. Bernard is the best of you.”

“Oh, I am,” said the latter. “Much the best.”

“You may make too much of it, my daughter,” said Benjamin. “I looked to hear your brothers congratulate you, but I understood that they had done it in their own way.”

“I do it now in the ordinary way,” said Bernard.

“If I had been left ten times as much, it would not have been my fault,” said Anna. “I have had no more to do with the will than the rest of you. And I suppose that is not much.”

“If you had, I wonder if it would have killed Esmond,” said Bernard.

“I thought all ordinary congratulations went without saying,” said Claribel.

“You must see that you were mistaken,” said Benjamin.

“What is the good of belonging to a family, if every formal convention has to be observed?”

“Perhaps Anna has not found it much good.”

“We ought to begin to rejoice,” said Jenney, in an uncertain manner. “It is right to appreciate what comes to us, even if it does come from people's trouble. Money never comes, except from a death, does it?”

“Perhaps that accounts for the sinister touch about it,” said Bernard. “It is really death that is the root of all evil. I have always thought it was.”

“If there wasn't any death, we shouldn't ever inherit anything,” said Reuben.

“That is what Jenney said,” said Bernard. “We see why people are reluctant to make their wills. It is odd that we should be surprised by it. It does not bring death any nearer, but it shows it as a possibility, and that is enough. And of course we talk about generous benefactors by will. Ungenerous people would never imagine their goods going to someone else. It explains why so many people die intestate. Bequeathing is a great test.”

“One that Aunt Sukey will hardly be thought to have passed.” said Esmond.

“Which would you rather, Anna?” said Reuben. “Have the money, or have Aunt Sukey alive again?”

“The second, of course, if she could be well enough to find her life worth while.”

“We should keep two things apart,” said Benjamin. “Anna is glad of what has come to her, and grieved for the loss that occasions it.”

“Would you rather that the money had come to you, or come to Anna, Father?”

“The first,” said Benjamin, in an almost stern tone, that he softened in his pleasure that his son should address him. “It seems that I should have more use for it, and that it would be better in my hands. But I am glad it has come to any one of us, and glad of the reason.”

“Poor Father!” said Anna. “You had done more to earn it than I had.”

“I think we should say that itwas not earned, but given.”

“Well, I like it better as a gift.”

“Perhaps you might even love it on that ground,” said Bernard.

“Perhaps Anna will make it over to Father,” said Reuben.

“I was to give it to the Calderons a little while ago,” said his sister. “But I daresay Father will have the chief hand in directing it.”

“I hope for favours at your hands,” said Bernard, “and I have the generosity to say so. I notice that Esmond has not.”

“I think it is Anna who will have to show that quality,” said Claribel.

“There is no need for it, when the means of giving fall into your lap,” said Esmond.

“Don't you really want any favours?” said his brother.

“Shall we be able to live differently?” said Reuben.

“How many more people will find a use for it?” said
Anna. “I begin to see why Aunt Sukey left it to me. To choose one person and abide by the choice may have seemed the only thing.”

“But why not choose Father?” said Esmond.

“Oh, we cannot talk as if Aunt Sukey were alive, and we could discuss it with her.”

“We shall never know that,” said Benjamin. “And we must remember that a will stands by itself, independent of anything that goes before. It is an absolute thing.”

“Can it be that Father has a high character?” said Bernard, under his breath. “I think this must be a proof of it.”

“Anna ought not to give the money back to the Cald-erons, ought she, Jenney?” said Reuben.

“It is hardly useful to talk of a thing that is never done,” said Benjamin. “Jenney is right that a will would be no good, if we did not follow it. And the phrase, ‘give back', is not the right one. The money belonged to no one but your aunt.”

“She might have been said to owe it to other people,” said Esmond.

“Anything to divert it from your sister!” said Anna.

“Well, it will make a difference to them, as a proportion of the money went to the house.”

“Well, money does make a difference, of course,” said Anna. “That is the meaning of it.”

“What is the first thing you will do with it?” said Reuben.

“I don't know,” said Anna, putting back her hair from her brow. “Forget it, I think. I never spent such a day. I would have avoided it, if I could have, money and all.”

“It would be natural to wish to avoid much of it,” said Esmond.

“Oh, don't pretend to be such a fool. Jealousy may be an excuse for a good deal, but you have gone far enough.” “If Esmond should go too far, would you stint your
bounty to him?” said Bernard. “I almost think he has done so.”

“Here are the whole Calderon family coming up the drive!” said Anna. “Uncle Thomas, Aunt Jessica, Tullia and Terence. I wonder they have not brought the children. I had better go and hide my head. I do not want to face any green-eyed looks. I have come to the end of my tether.”

“I think we all have,” said Esmond.

“I thought you always had,” said his brother.

“I would not behave as if you were afraid to meet them,” said Jenney to Anna. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have not done anything.”

“You should be full of pride,” said Bernard. “You have ousted them in Aunt Sukey's esteem, and they cannot fail to respect you. And if you give up the money, they may think less of you for not having it.”

“But perhaps more of her on other grounds,” said Esmond.

“Yes, but that is a lighter kind of esteem.”