The Emperor (32 page)

‘
I'm sorry,' he said, 'I really am sorry for everything, and
sorry that you should have this disagreeable task. But as you
say, there isn't anything else I can do.’

Durban inclined his head in as much consent as he could
give, and turned for the door.

‘Pack everything,' James called after him. Not that there was much, he thought. He had never been a collector. 'You know what to bring for the immediate necessities? And for
God's sake, bring my painting things with you; those I must
have. And tell Mother – tell Mother I'm sorry.’

*

It was well past noon when Durban arrived at Morland
Place, to find the yard suspiciously full of loitering servants
and grooms. Hoskins came in person to take Forest's head, and murmured to Durban as he dismounted, 'What in the name o' pity's goin' on, Mr Durban? Is thy master run mad, or what?'

‘Has the family gone to the racecourse?' Durban asked, relinquishing the reins.

‘
The master and Lord and Lady Aylesbury has. The
mistress stopped 'ome in case your master should come, and
the young madam's in her room – hasn't come down at all today. Mad as fire she were,' he added in a burst of confi
dentiality. 'Miss Lucy's maid told Mr Thorn that Mrs
Mappin said she heard madam talking to the mistress as
they crossed the 'all last night goin' up to bed: takin' on
something marvellous, she were. An' Mr Oxhey says as that
Dakers sent word this morning that madam was stoppin' in
her room with a fit of the vapours – prostrated, she said –
hut Miss Lucy's maid says there's no vapours in t' case, and that it's nowt but temper, pure an' simple.’

ins Durban shook himself free of the elderly groom, reflecting that Mrs James had never succeeded in making herself
beloved of the servants. As soon as he entered the hall
Oxhey accosted him. Durban knew that he must take the initiative, but as Oxhey had all a butler's traditional dignity to slow him down, it was easy for Durban, with a suitably deferential look, to get his word in first.

‘Oh, Mr Oxhey, I have a letter here for her ladyship. I
wonder, if she is at leisure, whether it would be best for you
to take it to her?'

‘Her ladyship is in the steward's room. In the circumstances, I am sure she will wish to see you at once. That is -
I assume -' he coughed delicately, 'I assume your master
does not accompany you.’

Durban shook his head. 'I'll wait here then, Mr Oxhey,
until her ladyship has read the letter,' he said, making it
sound as if it had been Oxhey's suggestion, and Oxhey
bowed assent, took the letter from his hand, and moved majestically off towards the steward's room.

Durban moved quickly. As soon as Oxhey had gone
down the chapel passage, he ran across the hall and up the stairs to James's room, and with a few swift movements
flung shirts, stockings, cravats, shaving tackle, and anything
else that was easily accessible into a large, soft valise with leather handles which could be tied to the saddle dees. He added the master's latest sketching-book, and the long flat
box in which he kept his pencils, paints and brushes, and, on
impulse, the book which lay on the bedside table. Then he
ran back downstairs and bestowed the valise in a dark
corner, under one of the little, hard hail chairs. It was not
precisely that anyone could stop him leaving, but there
might be difficulty about his packing James's belongings;
and at the very least, it would be tactless to ask, or to be
seen, to do so.

He was waiting, apparently without having moved from the spot, when Oxhey came back.

‘
Her ladyship will see you now,' he said. The words were
formal, unemotional, but his look was confused and
troubled.

Jemima was standing looking out of the window when
 
Durban was ushered in.

‘
Thank you, Oxhey. You may leave us. I will call you if I
need you,' she said without turning round.

‘
Very good, my lady,' Oxhey said doubtfully, and backed
out, closing the door quietly behind him. When they were
alone, Jemima turned, and Durban saw why Oxhey had
been troubled: she had been crying. She held James's letter in her hand, and gestured with it as she looked at Durban.

‘Do you know what this says?'

‘
In essence, my lady. I have not read it,' he replied gently.
She swallowed, and turned her head away. Durban saw
traces of her tears glistening in the light from the window, saw her draw a deep breath and command herself, and turn
to him again with the grave and benign look of a great lady,
and his heart went out to her. 'My lady,' he said, 'I have
served Mr James since he took his first commission, in uniform and out of it and I love him like a son. I beg your pardon for speaking of it, my lady, but - ‘

Jemima nodded. 'Yes, I understand. It's all right,
Durban: I lay no blame on you. You and I, perhaps, are the ones who will feel this most deeply.’

He could say nothing. Just for that instant he felt
attached to her across the room by tenuous threads of affec
tion and sympathy, a momentary and oddly intimate
sensation of shared parenthood.

‘He will not come back?' she said at length.

‘I believe not, my lady.'

‘Oh God, that it should come to this!' she said from the
heart. 'And Héloïse - what of her? Durban, did she not try
to persuade him to come back? I cannot believe that she would consent to what she knows is wrong.' Durban was
necessarily silent, and Jemima said after a moment, 'I'm
sorry, that was not a fair question to ask. You truly believe that he intends to stay with Lady Henrietta - permanently?'

‘Yes, my lady.' She was still looking at him, as though
unable to accept that this was all, and he added, hesitantly,
‘I think they both understand what is entailed, my lady, but they are - happy together. They were not happy before.'

‘
No,' she said bleakly. She looked down at the letter in
her hand. 'Such an irony: it was everything I wished for
them, if only it had happened at a different time. But like
this - !' She was silent a while longer, and then looked up, meeting his eyes. 'You return to your master, I suppose?'

‘He wishes me to take his belongings back with me, my lady,' Durban said unwillingly.

‘Yes, I suppose he would. But you will not go immedi
ately. I cannot think all at once what to do. I must have time
to consider. You will wait, Durban?’

It was half a question, half a command, as befitted their
relationship. He was not her servant; but his master had
lived at her expense, and it was she, ultimately, who had
paid his wages.

‘As you wish, my lady,' he said neutrally, and bowed himself out.

*

After all the expressions of shock, surprise, and outrage, the
family's reactions were very different. Lucy spoke up very promptly for a washing of hands.

‘
We're all better off without him, Mother - even Mrs
James. He's been behaving abominably ever since - well, I can't remember when.'

‘But Lucy, dear, consider - we can't just let him do this terrible thing,' Jemima protested.

‘Why not? Lord, Mother, lots of married people live separate lives. There's nothing in that. In London nobody thinks anything of it, if someone takes a lover, provided it's done discreetly.’

Chetwyn looked amused at his wife's avowed sophistication, and hastened to reassure his mother-in-law.

‘Pay no attention, ma'am - she don't know it from first hand, I assure you!' he said. 'But there's a deal in what she
says, all the same. From what I understand, it's all very well to talk about not letting James do as he pleases, but it seems
to me it's a matter of what
can
be done. I can't see how
anyone is to make him come back if he don't want to. Much
better, in that case, to leave well alone. It's not true that
people turn a blind eye to that sort of thing - no, Luce, I promise you, a discreet love-affair is one thing, but runnin' off from one's wife and livin' with one's mistress won't do! But if we can't make him come back - and I don't see how we can - it seems to me that it would be better to ignore the whole thing. If we stir up a fuss trying to force him, it will
only draw attention to it, and the scandal will be so much
the worse.’

Jemima looked bewildered. 'But we can't do nothing!
That would be to lend approval to his actions.'

‘
Do nothing? I should think not!' Edward growled.
'Damn James! Why the devil can't he behave like a normal human being? He's been trying your patience, Mama, since he was in short coats, but this is beyond everything! I can't believe you're advocating letting him get away with it, Chetwyn.’

Chetwyn gave his lazy smile. 'My dear Ned, I'm all for forcin' a man to do his duty, particularly if it's distasteful to
him; but I don't care about looking ridiculous, as we
certainly should, my dear, if we went up there full of
righteous indignation and came back with our tails between
our legs.'

‘
If I go up there, it's James who will be looking ridicu
lous, I promise you,' Edward said furiously. ‘The insolence
of it, sending his man to collect his things! All it needs,
Mama, is for Chetwyn and me - well, I'll go alone if you
don't like it, Chet, and be damned to you - '

‘Fire-eater!' Chetwyn murmured, amused.

‘- to go up there with a couple of servants,' Edward continued determinedly, 'and bring him back, by force if necessary.'

‘And Héloïse?' Jemima said quietly. 'What of her?’

There was a silence. Ned had forgotten her for a
moment, and as he remembered, the impossibility of dragging James forcibly from her arms, attractive though the picture was, came home to him. He looked bewildered.

‘Well, at least,' he said at last, 'you won't let Durban take his things to him, will you, Mama?'

‘
Oh Ned, I don't know,' Jemima sighed. 'What good
would it do to forbid him? Will a lack of shirts make James come back?’

Lucy glanced at the clock on the chimney-piece. 'At any rate, Mama, we have to decide what to do this evening.

 
There's the dinner and ball at Shawes, and if we are to go, we had better go and get dressed; or if we aren't, we had better send to tell them.'

‘
Don't be stupid, Lucy, how can we go?' Ned exclaimed.
Lucy gave him a withering look.

‘
Stupid yourself! If we don't go, we might as well write it
all up on a board and post it outside the door, for everyone will know.'

‘Everyone will know soon enough,' Ned said gloomily, and Chetwyn put an arm round his shoulder.

‘
We might as well buy time while we can, old fellow. No
sense in givin' the scandal-mongers their broth on a plate.'
He looked with sympathy at Jemima and said, 'What do you
say, ma'am, to Lucy and me going, at least? We can make up some story. And Ned, you'll lend us countenance, won't you?’

Edward laid his hand over his friend's. 'I can't,' he said.
‘I should only pull you down. I'll stay with Mother.'

‘You had better say that I am unwell,' Jemima said, 'and
let it be thought that Ned and James are staying with me on
that account. I would not have you tell untruths, but I do
feel quite unfit for company.'

‘And Mrs James — is she unwell too?' Chetwyn asked wryly. Jemima looked aghast.

‘Good God, I had forgotten her! Poor young woman —how she must feel it! I must go up to her and see if there is anything I can do.’

She hurried away, and Lucy and Chetwyn repaired to
their rooms to dress. ‘I'm afraid she's all to easy to forget,'
Chetwyn murmured to his wife. 'James will have no trouble
at all.’

*

Later that evening, Edward went to look for his mother, and
found her at last, as she had found James, in the Lady-
chapel, just sitting, her eyes upon the golden face, worn
gentle with age, of the Lady. He sat down beside her, and
after a while she said, 'I was just thinking about your father,
and how much I miss
_,
him. If only he had been here, he
would have known what to do.’

‘Papa couldn't stop James doing wrong before,' Ned reminded her. 'What about Mary Skelwith, for instance?'

‘
Oh, but James did heed him, Ned. He restrained himself
a great deal on that account; and though what he did with
Mary Skelwith was wrong, it was not as serious as this. This
is just — the worst thing.' She brooded. 'And yet, I have been
wondering, if I had been married to someone else, and
loving your father as I did — '