Men and Wives (25 page)

“Is not the dinner rather tedious for you all?” said Harriet. “Isn't it longer than usual, Buttermere?”

“Not according to our recent custom, my lady.”

“Oh, we have had an extra course or two sometimes lately, Harriet. We have had people in, Camilla and Ernest, you know. We have wanted a little cheering up. If you could have seen our faces the first nights we were without you! We didn't want the dinner prolonged then. Ah, well, you were spared that. That is one thing we can think of.”

“Griselda gives me what I like best,” said Bellamy. “She is getting into training for a spoiling wife.”

“That is a change you will be glad of,” said Camilla.

“My poor child! Her mother is at home with her now,” said Harriet. “I shall be so thankful to take up my duties again. My children have not been fortunate in their mother. You shall all have what you like best in every way, all six of you, and without having to think of it yourselves. I shall be meeting Mr. Spong in a few days, and as soon as I know how matters stand, you shall all have everything your mother can give you.”

“I hope it is not dangerous to be so fortunate,” said Bellamy.

“Dangerous? Now, what do you mean, Ernest?” said Godfrey. “I tell you, Harriet, old Spong will be glad enough to see you. He doesn't think my business head a patch on yours. I assure you he doesn't. I might be an old dodderer, for all his view of me. You may believe me or not; it is the truth. He thinks I am not fit to spend a farthing. I might be the woman and you the man, for his opinion.”

A Few Days later Dominic entered the house with a hushed tread, holding his bag as a secular object brought on a sacred occasion. He remained leaning over Harriet's hand in silence.

“Well, Spong, you see we are ourselves again,” said Godfrey. “Our tide has turned. I know you will rejoice with us.”

“Sir Godfrey,” said Dominic, not yet exposing Harriet to the reality of speech, “I could ask for nothing that would occasion me greater personal gratitude. That is my feeling upon your reunion.”

“Thank you, Spong. We were sure of your sympathy. And I wish your wife could be restored to you, as mine has been to me. It lessens my personal joy that you cannot have your share in it.”

“Sir Godfrey, it does not lessen mine.”

“Well, let us get our business behind. We shall be more ourselves when that is not hanging over us. We can't come together without these things having to be adjusted, more's the pity. You and I must take them off my wife in future, Spong. I grudge her attention to them. We have formed the habit of getting along together, and we must put what we have learnt into practice. We can't allow her a ruling hand where it is too much for her. We must remember what has happened once, and be on our guard.”

“If I remember Lady Haslam aright,” said Dominic, unfastening the tape of his papers with a humorously rueful air, “I hardly think she will want much taken off her in the line of business decisions. To use what is at best a colloquial expression, I should put her, of the two of you, as ‘top dog' in that department.”

“Well, well, but we must take care of her,” said Godfrey. “Now, Harriet, my dear, is there anything you would like dwelt upon in those papers you have before you?”

“No, they are quite clear. I went through them last night,” said Harriet. “They are in order and just as usual. The investments don't need altering. Mr. Spong has been very wise in the one or two changes he has made. After all, my time away has been only a matter of months. But I don't understand about our banking account; our joint account, Mr. Spong, that both my husband and I supply and draw upon. It is overdrawn to quite a large amount, a thing which has never happened. We have not the pass book here. There is just the record of the overdraft in your summing up. Is any of the income not paid in to the bank?”

“No,” said Dominic in a considering voice, “everything has been paid in as usual. And the statement is up to date, brought indeed to completion for this interview.”

“Then there must be some explanation. I shall no doubt see it presently.”

“There would have been in some ways an unusual drain upon the account,” said Dominic in tones withdrawn from comment. “There would be the advance to Messrs. Halibut and Froude for the publication of Jermyn's poems; and the expense of hiring the theatre and providing properties for the dramatic entertainment organised by Mr. Bellamy; and the purchase money of the lease of Matthew's house. Those items would appear on the debit side, and result probably in abnormal depletion.” He looked towards the window.

“Oh, yes, yes, Harriet,” said Godfrey. “Those are things I have done, certainly. I knew we should be of one mind about them. I was not able to consult you, so where I was convinced you would approve I followed my own line. It was imperative for Matthew to have a house near his work, and he couldn't afford to take one for himself,
the dear boy! There will be no rent now that we have bought the lease; that was taken into account; and I considered it was about the standard you would wish. And Bellamy's play was, between ourselves, for Griselda's sake. The poor children were deprived of you, Harriet. I did something to make up to them.”

“Oh, yes, yes, my dear. I have no doubt it was wise. I only wanted to understand. Mr. Spong is right that I have a business conscience.”

“Yes, but, Harriet, these are hardly matters for you to worry your head about in these days,” said her husband with resumed gravity. “You know we are to keep such decisions away from you. You are going to be wise. What you have to do is to let your heart thrill with pride over the achievements of your sons. Ah, when I took in what it all meant, my own heart thrilled with pride and humble thanksgiving. I felt that if I could only share it with you, my cup would be full. It is full now.”

Dominic looked torn between his human and professional feelings.

“Yes, so is mine,” said Harriet. “We should indeed be grateful for our sons and for ourselves. I suppose poor Jermyn could not get his poems accepted. Well, I know that means nothing. You were right to save him disappointment.”

“Harriet,” said Godfrey, “I could not have faced it for him! He might have faced it for himself, but I could not. There was an end of it.”

“Well, I hope it may not be the beginning, Sir Godfrey,” said Dominic. “Young gentlemen may be apt to take advantage of such a parental attitude. Now this other item, the expense for the play. Does Lady Haslam wish anything to be said about that?” He spoke with his head bent over a moving pencil, and a hovering smile.

“Well, my husband knows about it. He can tell me anything I need to be told,” said Harriet. “Thank you, Mr. Spong, I see the overdraft is accounted for.”

Dominic turned at once to succeeding matters, as if he had felt no intervening emotion, and the interview proceeded to its close.

“You will stay to luncheon, I hope, Mr. Spong?” said Harriet. “We are expecting Mrs. Calkin and Miss Dabis to join us. Our friends are very kind in hastening to welcome me home.”

“If I were to be the only guest, I should hesitate, nay I should refuse, Lady Haslam, to impose my presence on a family so lately restored to itself. But as that is not to be the case, I will take my place with a pleasure that will chiefly consist in seeing you again presiding at your own board. With due respect to my other friends and clients, the greater satisfaction will swamp the less.”

“Well, well, it is time to go in,” said Godfrey. “We can put away all this. You would like to get the dust off your hands, Spong. Buttermere, Mr. Spong would like some hot water in the room off the hall.”

Dominic followed the butler with an air of being both accustomed and entitled to such ministrations.

“The water is hot, sir,” said Buttermere, standing by the open door, and producing the impression that for many people he would have turned the tap.

“Oh yes, yes, thank you, I can manage very well,” said Dominic, hastening to forestall the services to which he was used.

“Luncheon will be served in a minute, sir,” said Buttermere, glancing at the guest as he left him.

“This is a very well appointed house,” said Dominic in an easy tone, as he came slowly to the table. “Mrs. Calkin, I have not had the privilege of meeting you since the occasion when we rejoiced that our hostess was to resume the place we associate with her hospitality. Miss Griselda, I may congratulate you on your transition to a less important seat. I claim to know you well enough to assume it is a matter for congratulation.”

“Even with your experience as a lawyer,” said Geraldine.

“Miss Dabis, I still have remaining to me some belief in the soundness of my fellow creatures.”

“I shall not try to say how thankful I am to see you in your place again,” said Agatha in a low tone to Harriet. “It is a thing that is simply better not attempted.”

“I agree, Mrs. Calkin, that it would be to court certain failure,” said Dominic, leaning forward earnestly.

“I suffered the last time I was here,” Agatha continued to Harriet, “in seeing the superficial sameness and knowing the essential difference. There must be much that you have to put right, now you are in the general's place again. You have all my sympathy with the demands of your position.”

“They have not begun to trouble me yet,” said Harriet. “I have to resolve never to let them again. I am simply in great happiness in being in my home with my husband and children.”

“Will you have the working party at your house again now?” said Geraldine. “It has been most exciting lately with the garments for the play. We have had all kinds of odd, agitating things to accomplish. I always seem to get masculine habiliments for my portion! I don't know why they should be assigned especially to me.”

“It seems to be going too well where it is, for us to think of change,” said Harriet. “I hope your sister can continue to hold it.”

“Whatever is thought best by everyone, is what I should like,” said Agatha.

“Then keep it, Mrs. Calkin, keep it,” said Godfrey. “My wife must not do as much as she used. She will come in and join you sometimes.”

“We have done what we could to fill your place to Gregory,” said Agatha, turning to Harriet, as if modestly to change the subject. “He has been in, I think, whenever he has known I should be by myself. I hope you find he has not suffered as much as you feared?”

“I have not found yet how much any of them has
suffered,” said Harriet, sending her eyes round her children's faces, and keeping them on Gregory's. “I trust none of them too much; I think not. I know what kindness you have shown us.”

“I hope you will let Gregory keep up his intercourse with us? I should be sad, really genuinely sad”—Agatha paused for impartial apportionment of feeling—“to see it broken. I feel there is something I can give him, that I think he will tell you I have given.”

“He probably will not, as you have given it,” said Harriet smiling. “And Gregory does what he chooses in his friendships. You have found that he does.”

“No. No. I daresay he will not speak of it. I think you are subtler than I am there. I think he will not.”

“Sir Percy and Lady Hardisty!” said Buttermere.

“Harriet, we have come without being asked, because you have not asked us. We should not do such a thing without a reason. We supposed our welcome went without saying, as that was the way it went. Yours goes so much without, that I should be nervous lest Percy should speak, if that was his tendency.”

Rachel's voice grew hurried and helpless, and she withdrew her eyes from Harriet's face.

“Rachel!” said Godfrey. “After all you have done for us in Harriet's absence, it cannot be said in mere words that you should have been here to enhance her homecoming. But our thoughts have been so engrossed with her, that they have hardly got outside our four walls. Our other friends would not be with us to-day, if they had not thought of it themselves, if they had not shown us the same kindness that you are showing.”

Dominic looked down at his bread and fingered it, and Agatha raised a face that cordially confirmed this account of her position.

“Percy has come to drive me over. He did not think he was wanted. Johnson is ill, and Percy will have sympathy with people he employs, though it spoils the old-world
atmosphere that is the point of him. I have come to have coffee with you in your own room, Harriet. I have had my luncheon, so you cannot have the rest of yours. Percy had better have it; he wants it, as I hurried him over his.”

“No, no, don't get up, my dear,” said Sir Percy, as Griselda would have relieved him of the duties of her mother's place. “An old man can make himself useful. Mrs. Calkin, you will allow me? Mrs. Calkin, Buttermere.”

“Well, come upstairs with me, Harriet. Percy will look after them all,” said Rachel, moving and talking quickly to cover the meeting. “I shall be glad of some of your coffee. Our coffee is poison; cheap things are; I can't help the vulgarity of truth. I might have brought some of it for your guests. I can't conceive why you didn't think of it, instead of giving all your attention to yourself. Why, Harriet, my little one, what is it?”

Harriet had flung herself into Rachel's arms and broken into weeping.

“Haven't you really had the fit of crying that goes with coming home? I thought people just crossed the threshold and burst into tears. Of course I understand; it was Buttermere. Your emotions have had no outlet.”

“Rachel, my husband and children! They can do without me. That is why I have not sent for you; I have not had the heart. I have come home to find they can live with me away.”

“Of course they can. What else were they to do? You must not force people to do things, and then complain of their doing them.”

“I should not mind it. They had to get used to my being away. They could not help it, though they did it easily. I should not even mind their going against what I wished for them, though it was almost from the moment I left them. Their lives are their own.”