Mistress of the House (14 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

It
was
a strange winter for Laurie, that first one on the farm. Far stranger than the summer spent there, for almost everybody knew something of the country in summer time, even if town was all they knew in winter. Laurie had spent all the winters of her life in London and had unconsciously shared the viewpoint that the country then was the abomination of desolation. Now she found it to be otherwise. She found that the autumn lasted almost until Christmas, with frequent sunny days; and that even the autumn winds were invigorating and challenging. She found that the hours of work grew shorter and shorter, and the hours spent inside the house correspondingly longer. She found that mud found its way into most of the ground floor of the house, and frequently upstairs, too; and that raincoats and boots and coats were always drying round the kitchen fire; that oil lamps frequently ran out of oil and died down; and that the wide fireplaces ate up an incredible number of logs each evening. She discovered that Max had to go out to the cowsheds while it was pitch dark, with the thermometer well below freezing point. She discovered the joy of a brisk walk along the country lanes, with every leaf edged with frost and the roadway slippery with it; and the joy of drawing the curtains in her sitting room, lighting the lamp there, building up the fire and waiting for Max to come in for his supper.

There was a great deal of adjustment to be made. Laurie went at it willingly, but with no experience. She had finished her work at White Lodge, and had begun housekeeping at the farm. But there was little for her to do. She kept her own rooms clean, the sitting room, bedroom and small spare room. Laurie had never done housework before; and there was novelty in polishing boards, sweeping carpets and dusting furniture that belonged to herself and Max; but with the utmost zeal and thoroughgoing care, this cleaning could not take her long.

When she approached Max on the subject of helping outside, she met with a firm refusal. Max would not hear of her doing any rough work—and, he added, even if he had allowed it, he wouldn’t have allowed her to start in the winter.

“But,” Laurie protested. “I haven’t nearly enough to do, Max.”

“You have as much as any housewife.”

“But I haven’t I hardly do any cooking, for instance.”

“Well, Mother’s been doing it for ages—I suppose the easiest thing is to let her go on doing it.”

“But I must have something to do, darling. I can’t hang about all the time.”

“All right, Laurie. We’ll think about a job for you.” But the job did not materialize, and Laurie did not go on troubling him about it. She did his accounts and correspondence, she did her little housework, she cooked snacks, she played the piano, read innumerable books, embroidered tablecloths, and was vaguely dissatisfied. Until the evening, when Max had finished work for the day, and they could draw the curtains, enclosing themselves in glowing comfort, and sit together before their log fire, talking, reading, or discussing. Then she was happy, but when morning came again, and the long afternoons, she found the restlessness returned. ‘Never mind,’ thought Laurie, ‘I’ll have a baby. That will give me plenty to do, and I’d like that.’ The thought gave her pleasure, but the fact did not materialize.

Max taught her to ride. They went out on Sunday mornings together, Max on Roger’s Betsy and Laurie on Neville’s Redhead. This was something they both enjoyed. It was something they could share; something that Max did very much better than Laurie would ever do, and that he could teach her confidently. Max took her each week to the cinema, driving her there and back, and sometimes having supper in town. Apart from these outings, and the visits they made to friends, there was no break in the daily routine, unless Neville happened to be at White Lodge, when anything might happen.

Neville was quite restored to Laurie’s good graces. His behaviour, ever since the night of Diana’s birthday dinner had been blameless; and it seemed to Laurie that the kiss which had been so convincing and experienced had indeed been a slip on Neville’s part (perhaps into the kind of conduct he usually took to parties and dances). He had given her not a single qualm, although he had frequently arrived at the farm to carry her off to a dance; and had even begun to teach her to play golf. As this was a game Max frequently said he would take up in earnest, Laurie decided that it would be a good thing to know how to play, and allowed Neville to teach her. And always Neville was a good companion; full of fun, flirting harmlessly, obviously fond of her, yet always well on the safe side. He behaved when he was alone with her, exactly as he behaved when Max was present; and this Laurie approved of.

Jessica, however, did not approve of Neville’s conduct at all. She saw it as a continuous deception of Max. When Neville attempted the lightest persiflage with her, she was abrupt, almost rude, and would have none of it; thinking that he was trying to hide his visits to Laurie under a surface attraction to herself. And she spied upon them both, trying to discover in their behaviour, some corroboration for the deductions she had made about them, since the night of the kiss in the garden. And since Neville was careless with his endearments and his casual embraces, Jessica found ample corroboration. She made no allowance for the fact that Neville had always been like this. She saw that he put his arm about Laurie’s shoulder; that they often walked arm in arm, that Neville tucked the rug round her very devotedly whenever he carried Laurie off in his car, and she wondered what they did when they were alone. She had no doubt that the kiss had been repeated many times, and had been followed by other love-making. She wondered every day if she should tell Max.

“I’d like to know,” said Jessica on one occasion, “just why Neville’s always coming down here nowadays. He never used to.”

“Well, he knows his own business best,” said her mother, who was faintly worried by the number of times Neville came to see Laurie.

“As long as it is
his
business—and he doesn’t come butting into things that aren’t.”

Max and Laurie looked at each other. Laurie gave Max a very slight wink, and he smiled at her. Max had no need to worry about Neville, and he knew it. There was no doubt in his mind where Laurie had given her love. If ever he had doubted the strength of it, he did not doubt it now; if he had worried at keeping her tied, he worried no longer. She was not tied. She could dance with Neville as much as she liked. She could ride with him, walk with him, try to play golf with him. It didn’t matter. She came back to Max like a homing pigeon. She was a continual joy to him; his sun and moon and stars. And when they went riding on Sunday mornings, she usually told him all the things that she and Neville had done and said and laughed about. So they took no heed of Jessica and her jealous imaginings.

There was one development, which they hoped would concentrate Jessica’s mind upon other things. Roger had decided to be married in the new year, and had gone over to Audrey’s father’s farm as manager. This had been brought about by the old man having a slight stroke, and although his recovery had seemed complete, he decided to take life easily; he therefore installed Roger to manage the farm, and the wedding date was fixed. Max, who could ill dispense with Roger, had agreed to employ Fred Emerson in his place; since Fred had never had great respect for Roger and would not work well for him; whereas he had a great liking for Max.

“Fred Emerson?” asked Laurie, upon being informed of the trend of events. “Who is Fred Emerson?”

“He’s been working for Audrey’s father for years.”

“Haven’t I heard of him somewhere before?”

“You might have done. He lives in the village, and everybody speaks well of him. A huge man, strong as a lion. At one time he aspired to Jessica, but for some reason or other she wouldn’t look at him.”

“Ah, that’s it. I remember now. Pity she doesn’t.”

“Well, he only has his wages.”

“I suppose that’s why—he isn’t good enough for Jessica.”

And it certainly seemed that he was still not good enough for Jessica. He arrived each morning, had midday dinner with the family, went off when his work was done, but Jess scarcely gave him a word. He was quiet, but Laurie thought he would stand no nonsense. He took a pride in his work, and outspoken comment on the farm in general. Max liked him and prized him. He seemed to take as little notice of Jessica as she took of him.

* * *

Christmas came and went, with Laurie’s mother and friend as visitors, and a good deal of friendly calling; with a Christmas tree, Yule log and a quantity of good food. Roger’s wedding came and went, with a good deal of ceremony (at Audrey’s request), red carpet, village choir-boys, the dean to marry them, and a long procession of bridesmaids. Max was best man; and there was no disturbing incident provided by Jessica. Deep snow came and went—and was at its best and deepest at the week-end when Neville was at White Lodge. Jessica knew that he would come to the farm, and she was not disappointed. This time the excuse was tobogganing, but any excuse would do. Anything that meant Neville could whisk Laurie away from her husband without arousing suspicion. They tobogganed with a number of lively spirits, and Neville brought her home again afterwards; staying to supper in the kitchen with them all. Jessica watched him while he talked to Max. They talked of farming chiefly, and she thought how clever he was just to put the right amount of friendly interest into his voice and manner; how clever to act the family friend so well.

One morning when wintry sunshine fell upon the green fields and bare ploughland, Laurie decided to go shopping.

“It’s my mother’s birthday soon,” she told Max, as they took breakfast together, “and I might as well go now while the weather is friendly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t take you today, darling. I’ve got to be busy.”

“I don’t expect you to. I’m going to walk to the village and go on the bus. It will be quite a change for me. I’ll have lunch in town and come back on the afternoon bus.”

“Don’t forget the Maynards are coming in tonight for supper.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten. I mean to bring in some delicacies. I’ll be home in time to see to that.”

“Shall I run you to the village?”

“No thanks, love. I shall enjoy the walk.”

When she went off, trim and lovely in her green suit and tan shoes, with a pert little Robin Hood hat, he waved to her from the stable.

“Enjoy yourself,” he called.

“I’m going to,” she called back, and blew him a kiss. The walk to the village warmed her and put color into her cheeks. The ride to town was enlivened by conversation with one or two women she knew, and when she alighted from her bus and found that it was almost lunch time, she decided to shop afterwards and eat first.

“I think,” said a voice in her ear, “it had better be the George. They do have the best lunches there.”

“Neville,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Accosting you, darling. But I was on my way home. I saw the gay green of your suit first, and then you inside it.”

“I seriously doubt,” she said, shaking her head, “if you ever do any work at all.”

“I assure you that I do. For instance, last week I made a frightfully important contact. It entailed an hour or so of real hard work, but it led to good business. Such good business, in fact, that the firm is delighted with me. I don’t think anybody will mind if I have a month’s holiday.”

“I suppose you just turned on the charm—as you can—and the poor man was helpless.”

He smiled down at her.

“But don’t try it on me,” added Laurie. “I’m charm-proof.”

“But you are coming to lunch with me, aren’t you?”

“I might.”

“Good. And the George really is the best.” He put a hand under her elbow and guided her across the road. “And what, sweet maid, do you in Camelot?”

“I’m shopping for a birthday present for my mother.” They went into the George, and Neville turned on the charm for long enough to get the best table available. They seated themselves by the window and Laurie looked down into the street.

“You know,” said Neville, “that’s one thing I really do see in you. Happiness. It’s the thing that attracts everybody to you.”

“That’s Max.”

“But it was there the first time I saw you.”

“Still Max,” she said

“No, I have an idea it was there before that. A gift perhaps, from the fairies at your birth.”

“If it was, it was intensified one hundred per cent when Max came on the scene.”

“Lucky Max. So you really do think the world well lost for love?”

“Yes—not that I want to lose the world completely. A little of it now and then is most refreshing—and exciting.”

“Meaning me?”

“Not exactly—but you will do as a case in point”

“Well, it’s nice to know that you allow me to occupy one small niche in your life—if it is only as the big, bad world.”

“I hope I shall always have room for friends,” said Laurie. “I wouldn’t like to stifle love by concentrating on it only. Not that that is likely to happen—Max is too busy a person for that.”

“I’ll take you for a drive this afternoon, Laurie, if you’ll come. How about it?”

“You were on your way home.”

“I can go home afterwards.”

“And I have this birthday present to buy.”

“Well, when we’ve bought the present, we’ll go for a drive, shall we? I’ve often wanted to take you over the hills.”

“It
would
be nice.”

“Of course it would. Then that’s settled.”

They bought the birthday present; and the few delicacies that Laurie intended for the Maynard’s supper. Neville contributed some chocolates and some wine. Then they settled themselves in the car, and Neville headed it towards the hills.

There was a clock on the dashboard of the car, and there was an elegant platinum watch on Neville’s wrist, so that there was no excuse at all for their forgetting the time. They dawdled over the hills, talking all the time; they left the car to go for a walk, and returned to it to find a tea place which Neville said he distinctly remembered. The tea place existed, but not in quite the place Neville imagined, and by the time they found it, it was quite dark; and its cosiness tempted them to stay there. The curtains were drawn, the big brick fireplace contained a blazing log fire, the settees and chairs were comfortable, and, in spite of the wintry weather, the place was full. There was a leisurely, prosperous air about the people there, and the room itself. Neville and Laurie sat in the corner, at a small table which was genuinely antique, and went on talking. But at last, they decided they must go, and at last, a faint concern about the time made itself felt in Laurie.

She looked at the clock on the dashboard.

“How long to get home?” she asked Neville.

“Oh—let me see. We’ve come a goodish way, haven’t we? Couple of hours, we’ll say.”

“Two hours! Oh, surely not. I’ve got the Maynards coming to supper.”

“I’m afraid that won’t make the distance any less. I can do it in less by scorching.”

“I know your scorching. It’s a case of the lesser of two evils. I musn’t be late for the Maynards—in any case I’ve got to get things ready. Oh damn. Neville, you’re a nuisance.”

“Well...” said Neville.

“Sorry, of course I didn’t mean that. I’ve had a lovely afternoon, and your fault was in making things too pleasant. I ought to have remembered.”

“Come on. Hop in, and I’ll break all records.”

“No, Neville. I’m sure I’d rather be late in one piece, than early in several.”

“And I’ll come in and make your peace with Max.” “Oh, you don’t need to do that. Max always understands.”

Neville, however, did go in with her. In spite of his speed, it was soon obvious that they were going to be late; and when they reached the farm, it was time for the Maynards to arrive. Laurie went in, feeling very guilty but trying to hide the fact. Neville followed her.

Max was in the kitchen, with his mother and Jessica. He looked round as they entered.

“Max, I’m terribly sorry,” said Laurie. “I’m awfully late, aren’t I?”

“You are,” he said.

“Neville took me for a drive, and I completely forgot the time. It was all my fault. I shall have to race round—they haven’t come yet, have they?”

“No,” said Max, looking from Laurie to Neville and back again.

“It’s all right,” said Mrs. Lorney, watching Laurie as she slipped out of her coat, and went to get her apron from the dresser drawer. “No need to get bothered. I’ve done most of the things for you.”

“You have? Oh, you are an angel, and I don’t deserve it.”

“I thought you’d lost the bus, and I knew there was only one other, and that would make you late. So I got on with it—I knew exactly what you planned to have. But you’d better take a look at the table, in case it isn’t how you want it.”

Laurie looked at her mother-in-law. Mrs. Lorney smiled, but her eyes were worried. Laurie looked at Max. He was talking to Neville, and seemed unworried. She fastened the little apron round her, and went to her own sitting room to look at the table. It was perfectly laid, and there was nothing to alter. Everything had been made easy for her, but she felt oddly that she had failed in something important.

Neville, after making himself pleasant to everybody, went off to White Lodge. Laurie ran upstairs to change her frock, and came down to find Max carefully tending the fire, and the Maynards knocking at the front door. They were steady, genuine, sincere young people; and the liking between them and the young Lorneys was real. They spent a pleasant evening, and since both men were farmers, farming formed the chief topic of conversation. Laurie went to ask Mrs. Lorney and Jessica to join them for a while in the evening, but Jessica refused. Mrs. Lorney came in and made herself as at home as usual, so that Laurie succeeded in feeling after all that the party had been a success.

Upstairs, in the privacy of their bedroom, she turned to Max when she had finished brushing her hair. He was standing before the fire, looking down into the flames, waiting for her. This fire was a little luxury he insisted upon making for her. She was not used to such big, chilly places as this farmhouse, and he did not want her to feel discomfort.

She came to him in her dressing gown, and stood at his side. He put his arm about her.

“Tired?” he asked.

“A little. It’s been quite a day.”

“Yes.”

“The party went off nicely, don’t you think?”

“Yes, Mrs. Lorney, you were a success.”

“And Max, you didn’t mind about my going off for a drive with Neville?”

“No. How did you meet him?”

“In town. I was just going off to lunch, when he hailed me. We had lunch together, and then did some shopping. I did not realize how the time was flying. We must have sat some time over lunch; and we went for a walk in the hills—and it took us a long time to find the tea place. In fact, I should have realized, but I didn’t.”

“What was Neville doing there, anyway?”

“He was on his way home. It was quite an accident, Max, meeting him.”

“You didn’t know he would be there?”

“Of course not. Why should I?”

“I wondered why you had to go today, of all days—when I couldn’t take you myself.”

“Oh, darling, it was just an impulse. The nice day, and mother’s birthday being near. No, I promise you. I hadn’t the slightest idea Neville would meet me ... Why, Max—would it make any difference?”

“Darling—I don’t mind where you go with Neville; but I wouldn’t like to think you thought it necessary to tell me one thing and do another.”

“Max, as if I would. Max, look at me.”

He turned and looked at her, smiling down.

“I do not care two hoots about Neville.” She said it slowly and deliberately. “I like him and he’s fun; but it doesn’t matter to me if I never see him again. But I love you, and I don’t want you to imagine for a moment that he means anything. Shall I not go on seeing him?”

“Laurie, what a selfish brute I am. I don’t give you much fun here, do I? And I resent what you can get elsewhere. I’m sorry, darling.”

“Max, don’t you dare get humble, because I won’t have it. I don’t need anything more than you give me. I enjoy going to dances with Neville, but they are extras.
I don’t need them. You are the person who matters. Max.”

“I know it, Laurie; but I choose to be cussed sometimes. You’re a darling.”

“And you don’t mind about Neville?

“I don’t mind.”

“Shall I stop seeing him?”

“No, certainly not.”

“I will, Max, if you wish it. It’s not important.”

“If it’s not important, it doesn’t matter either way. If he’s not important, you can see him every day.”

“Darling, you should have more conceit of yourself.”

“How can I?”

“You have every reason. After all, I fell in love with you, not him; and you’re a thousand times more interesting—and more fascinating, though I dare say I shouldn’t tell you so. You’re stupid, Max, if you can’t see yet that you’re the only person who matters to me. Come to bed, darling; I’m getting cold.”

“God knows what I’ve done to deserve you, Laurie.”

“I could take that in two ways, Max, but I shall give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Later, when Max was sleeping, Laurie watched the fire dying down and gave herself up to thought. It seemed to her that she must get this thing straight in her own mind. Max was sincere, she knew, in saying that he did not mind if she went on seeing Neville, dancing with Neville, and playing golf or tennis with him. She knew, too, that he looked upon it almost as a duty to let her have with somebody else the fun and entertainment he could not give her himself. But she felt reasonably sure that he did not altogether like it. It was a small thing, she told herself, to give up to make Max happy. Yet she knew also that she had not enough to do at the farm to keep her completely from boredom. It was not enough to have her own small part of the house to look after. She was not responsible for anything on the farm at all—everything to be done in that direction had been allocated long before Laurie appeared on the scene. She was not even responsible for the running of the house—Mrs. Lorney saw to all that, and Laurie saw no opportunity ahead for altering the
status quo.
So, decided Laurie, if I don’t have these occasional little excursions with Neville, I stay at home and get bored. If, she decided, she had a baby, that would considerably alter the case, but so far the baby had not materialized, and Laurie knew a few moments of panic in case it never should. For she was eager to have children of Max’s to grow up in this lovely place.