Mistress of the House (17 page)

* * *

Laurie told Max that evening, as they walked in the wood together. She did not make much of a story of it, but the bare facts and the bald statements were more effective than many trimmings. They sat together on a fallen beech and looked out between trees, over the farm.

“It’s incredible,” said Max at last. He looked anxious and sorrowful. “It simply doesn’t seem possible, Laurie.”

“But it’s true. Strangely enough, I don’t hate her for it. I feel sorry for her, too. But I can’t go on living with her, Max. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t do that.”

“No. I see that. What are we going to do?”

“I can’t find any solution. I’ve thought and thought about it. Short of marrying her off to somebody, and there doesn’t seem much likelihood of that.”

“Let us put it before Mother and see what she has to suggest.”

“I don’t want to spread it about too much.”

“But Mother should know. It will make her understand the whole position, and will explain to her any move we might have to make.”

“All right We will tell your mother, but nobody else.”

“My poor darling, what a rotten time you’ve had of it here. Not only has Jess made trouble, but I’ve been willing to more than once.”

“No—apart from Jess, it’s been a wonderful time. I don’t want to change anything really, but I can’t live with Jess.”

“Look, Laurie, once we’ve got this all settled, I’ll make it up to you, darling. I’ll see that you have a
good
life.”

“Together we’ll make a good life, Max.”

They had no opportunity to speak to Mrs. Lorney that evening, nor the next morning. Mrs. Lorney told them that Aunt Hilda was due to arrive. She had been staying with some new friends, and was consequently much later in arriving than usual; but she was now prepared to begin her annual visit. Mrs. Lorney went up to clean out Aunt Hilda’s room, Jessica cooked the dinner, and Max and Laurie had to wait until the afternoon. Then Jessica walked to the village, and the kitchen became the seat of a serious conference.

Mrs. Lorney’s reaction had been the same as Max’s. She could not believe that what she heard was true. It took some time to convince her, and she was inclined to blame herself for not understanding Jessica better, and doing something to relieve her of the burden of her jealousy. She understood at once that it would not do for the two girls to continue to live together—“even,” she said, “if this changes Jessica altogether; as it well might. The shock might sober her up.” And having thought for some time, she announced her decision:

“It seems to me,” she said, “that there is only one way out. All things considered, it will be best for all of us. Jess and I will move out...”

“No,” said Laurie at once. “No, please. I don’t want
you
to go. You’ve always been perfect—understanding and kind. I should hate to think I was driving you away.”

“Nonsense. You’re not driving me away. I’ve held on to the reins too long. I’ve told myself that I was helping you, but I’ve been selfish—considering myself. As long as I stay in this house, I shall want to run it. But you’re the mistress of the house, my dear. The farm belongs to Max and you are his wife. As I told you when you were married, the ideal thing is for a man and his wife to set up house together. I must say, Laurie, that you’ve fitted into
our
routine of life in a remarkable way, but I’ve seen lately that you haven’t been satisfied. It’s as well to make this break while our relations are all friendly, and before they get strained. Jess has made it essential, that’s all.”

“But—even supposing we agree to it—where will you go?”

“Oh; that’s a minor point. We shall find something. A cottage or small house, with a garden—and, if possible, a field where Jess can carry on with her poultry. One of our friends will have such a cottage I daresay. I don’t see why it shouldn’t all work out very well.”

“But you’re pretending that you don’t mind leaving this house, and I’m sure you do.”

“Well, my dear, I’ve had a happy life here, but it’s hard work running it—as I’m afraid you’ll find out—and I can do with taking life a bit easier. I’m not going for good—I shall come back to see you often.”

“In any case,” said Max, “we may not find a suitable place for some time. I don’t want you to move into anything that isn’t just right. And of course, if Jess marries, you are always welcome here again.”

“Of course,” supported Laurie.

“Jess seems to be set against marriage,” said her mother. “But if it ever happens, well, we’ll see. There’s always Hilda. She won’t want to go on wandering from place to place for ever. She might settle down with me.”

“That wouldn’t work,” said Max. “She would laze, while you waited upon her.”

“Well, that would be natural. I should miss not having a family to wait upon. Anyway, that all lies in the future.”

Most of the plan, however, lay in the very near future, for Fred, taken into Max’s confidence to the extent of his enquiries about cottages, declared that the very thing was available right now, and moreover, just a little way out of the village. “You know Cherry Tree Cottage?” he queried. “Old Mr. Wood’s place? Well, it’s empty. When the old man died, the old lady said that nothing would move her; but she found it lonesome living there by herself, and now she’s gone into the village to her son’s wife. That’s a tidy little place, is that. They brought up their eight children in it; and were none so crowded. And a tidy little bit of garden, and that nice strip of orchard. Nobody’d want a nicer little place than that to live in.”

And so it was settled. Jessica received the news with an odd submission.

Aunt Hilda had arrived, but it had been decided between Mrs. Lorney and Max that she should go to Cherry Tree Cottage for the time being. “Laurie has had enough of your family, Max, for a while; and now that you have the chance to be together, you don’t want to be burdened with Hilda. She can come and stay with you later.”

There were times, in the period that followed, when Laurie wished she had never started such an upheaval, for there seemed no end to the work to be done. She was constantly in demand to settle which furniture she wished to keep and which Mrs. Lorney might take with her; to say if she wished for this or that particular pan in the pantry; to agree that the copper bowls and kettles were Mrs. Lorney’s own and must go with her; to decide whether she wished to keep the washing apparatus in the cellar. But at last the moving van arrived, and the necessary furniture was taken to the cottage. Max and Roger were there to fix carpets and move the heavier articles, and Fred was invaluable in the days that followed, in helping Jessica to transport hens, coops and feeding-troughs and all the paraphernalia that had, for so long, littered the field opposite the house. He promised that he would set them up for Jessica among the trees of the little orchard, and give her a hand whenever necessary. “I can see,” said Max, “that he’s going to enjoy being their right-hand man.”

Then they were gone, and the big house was curiously empty, curiously silent. The dresser looked naked without its gleaming copper pans; the fireplace naked without the copper warming pans and toasting forks. Max went out to the milking, and Laurie was alone in the house. It was a moment she had been looking forward to, but she found that she felt a little lonely and depressed. Almost forsaken.

That was ridiculous. But she went out to the cowsheds and waited for Max.

“The house seems weird,” she said. “I’ve laid supper, but I’ll wait for you before I go back.”

They returned together; and sat down in the kitchen to their meal.

“Strange,” said Max. “Only the two of us.”

“I keep feeling it, too. I keep getting an apprehensive feeling, thinking that I’ve driven your family away from you.”

“That’s nonsense. Jess was the cause of that. Besides, love, you’re my family from now on.”

“Yes. There’s only the two of us now, but soon it will be the three of us, and then later, the four of us...”

“Which is how it should be,” said Max. “A new generation growing up here.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have a terrible time at first. I’ve been learning from your mother, but I’m nothing like the cook she is; and probably a terrible housekeeper.”

“It won’t take you long to learn, Laurie. We’re starting from scratch, like most other couples.”

“Let’s walk over it and see our house,” she said.

“You know it all.”

“No, I don’t. I want to see it all afresh.” And they walked into all the downstairs rooms, and then went upstairs.

“It’s rather a nice old house, Max. When we’ve made some money, I’ll do some interesting things by way of furnishing.”

“It won’t be yet, darling. Roger and I are sharing the rent of Cherry Tree Cottage, and I still have to pay off a pretty sum to Roger on the farm. I feel that this is hardly fair to you Laurie...”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t expecting to do it yet. In any case, it’s far too much to look after. We’ll shut up some of it for the time being. I’ll have that nice corner room of Roger’s for a nursery, and devote myself to that And don’t think that you’re keeping me deprived of anything. I never dreamed that I would be mistress of such a big house.”

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels most exciting.”

“It’s your due, darling. A house of your own.”

“It’s nice, but it’s not the important thing. The important thing is that there’s no discord now. There’s never discord between us, Max darling, is there? Only love—and kindness and toleration.”

“There’s certainly love—where I’m concerned.”

“I think there always will be—where we are both concerned.”

They walked arm in arm along the corridor, and down the stairs to the hall, through it and to the kitchen, where dusk was creeping into the corners and the wood fire sent a red glow on to the floor. Laurie drew the curtains. There was an air of cosiness, of intimacy, of well worn comfort about the room that pleased her.

“You know, Max,” she said, “I feel tonight almost as if we were newly married—which, in the circumstances, is a peculiar thing to feel.”

“We’re making a new start,” he said, smiling at her. “With a new mistress of the house. I wish her good luck in her venture.”

“I’m sure she’ll need it,” said Laurie, “and I can’t help feeling that she’s going to get it.”