The Enchanted April Page 12

  Chapter 12

  At the evening meal, which was the first time the whole four satround the dining-room table together, Scrap appeared.

  She appeared quite punctually, and in one of those wrappers ortea-gowns which are sometimes described as ravishing. This one reallywas ravishing. It certainly ravished Mrs. Wilkins, who could not takeher eyes off the enchanting figure opposite. It was a shell-pinkgarment, and clung to the adorable Scrap as though it, too, loved her.

  "What a beautiful dress!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilkins eagerly.

  "What--this old rag?" said Scrap, glancing down at it as if tosee which one she had got on. "I've had it a hundred years." And sheconcentrated on her soup.

  "You must be very cold in it," said Mrs. Fisher, thin-lipped; forit showed a great deal of Scrap--the whole of her arms, for instance,and even where it covered her up it was so thin that you still saw her.

  "Who--me?" said Scrap, looking up a moment. "Oh, no."

  And she continued her soup.

  "You mustn't catch a chill, you know," said Mrs. Arbuthnot,feeling that such loveliness must at all costs be preserved unharmed."There's a great difference here when the sun goes down."

  "I'm quite warm," said Scrap, industriously eating her soup.

  "You look as if you had nothing at all on underneath," said Mrs.Fisher.

  "I haven't. At least, hardly anything," said Scrap, finishing hersoup.

  "How every imprudent," said Mrs. Fisher, "and how highlyimproper."

  Whereupon Scrap stared at her.

  Mrs. Fisher had arrived at dinner feeling friendly towards LadyCaroline. She at least had not intruded into her room and sat at hertable and written with her pen. She did, Mrs. Fisher had supposed,know how to behave. Now it appeared that she did not know, for wasthis behaving, to come dressed--no, undressed--like that to a meal?Such behaviour was not only exceedingly improper but also mostinconsiderate, for the indelicate creature would certainly catch achill, and then infect the entire party. Mrs. Fisher had a greatobjection to other people's chills. They were always the fruit offolly; and then they were handed on to her, who had done nothing at allto deserve them.

  "Bird-brained," though Mrs. Fisher, sternly contemplating LadyCaroline. "Not an idea in her head except vanity."

  "But there are no men here," said Mrs. Wilkins, "so how can it beimproper? Have you noticed," she inquired of Mrs. Fisher, whoendeavoured to pretend she did not hear, "How difficult it is to beimproper without men?"

  Mrs. Fisher neither answered her not looked at her; but Scraplooked at her, and did that with her mouth which in any other mouthwould have been a fain grin. Seen from without, across the bowl ofnasturtiums, it was the most beautiful of brief and dimpled smiles.

  She had a very alive sort of face, that one, thought Scrap,observing Mrs. Wilkins with a dawn of interest. It was rather like afield of corn swept by lights and shadows. Both she and the dark one,Scrap noticed, had changed their clothes, but only in order to put onsilk jumpers. The same amount of trouble would have been enough todress them properly, reflected Scrap. Naturally they looked likenothing on earth in the jumpers. It didn't matter what Mrs. Fisherwore; indeed, the only thing for her, short of plumes and ermine, waswhat she did wear. But these others were quite young still, and quiteattractive. They really definitely had faces. How different lifewould be for them if they made the most of themselves instead of theleast. And yet--Scrap was suddenly bored, and turned away her thoughtsand absently ate toast. What did it matter? If you did make the mostof yourself, you only collected people round you who ended by wantingto grab.

  "I've had the most wonderful day," began Mrs. Wilkins, her eyesshining.

  Scrap lowered hers. "Oh," she thought, "she's going to gush."

  "As though anybody were interested in her day," thought Mrs.Fisher, lowering hers also.

  In fact, whenever Mrs. Wilkins spoke Mrs. Fisher deliberatelycast down her eyes. Thus would she mark her disapproval. Besides, itseemed the only safe thing to do with her eyes, for no one could tellwhat the uncurbed creature would say next. That which she had justsaid, for instance, about men--addressed too, to her--what could shemean? Better not conjecture, thought Mrs. Fisher; and her eyes, thoughcast down, yet saw Lady Caroline stretch out her hand to the Chiantiflask and fill her glass again.

  Again. She had done it once already, and the fish was only justgoing out of the room. Mrs. Fisher could see that the other respectablemember of the party, Mrs. Arbuthnot, was noticing it too. Mrs.Arbuthnot was, she hoped and believed, respectable and well-meaning.It is true she also had invaded her sitting-room, but no doubt shehad been dragged there by the other one, and Mrs. Fisher had little ifanything against Mrs. Arbuthnot, and observed with approval that sheonly drank water. That was as it should be. So, indeed, to give herher dues, did the freckled one; and very right at their age. Sheherself drank wine, but with what moderation: one meal, one glass.And she was sixty-five, and might properly, and even beneficially, havehad at least two.

  "That," she said to Lady Caroline, cutting right across what Mrs.Wilkins was telling them about her wonderful day and indicating thewine-glass, "is very bad for you."

  Lady Caroline, however, could not have heard, for she continuedto sip, her elbow on the table, and listen to what Mrs. Wilkins wassaying.

  And what was it she was saying? She had invited somebody to comeand stay? A man?

  Mrs. Fisher could not credit her ears. Yet it evidently was aman, for she spoke of the person as he.

  Suddenly and for the first time--but then this was mostimportant--Mrs. Fisher addressed Mrs. Wilkins directly. She wassixty-five, and cared very little what sorts of women she happened tobe with for a month, but if the women were to be mixed with men it wasa different proposition altogether. She was not going to be made acat's-paw of. She had not come out there to sanction by her presencewhat used in her day to be called fast behaviour. Nothing had beensaid at the interview in London about men; if there had been she wouldhave declined, of course to come.

  "What is his name?" asked Mrs. Fisher, abruptly interposing.

  Mrs. Wilkins turned to her with a slight surprise. "Wilkins,"she said.

  "Wilkins?"

  "Yes,"

  "Your name?"

  "And his."

  "A relation?"

  "Not blood."

  "A connection?"

  "A husband."

  Mrs. Fisher once more cast down her eyes. She could not talk toMrs. Wilkins. There was something about the things she said. . . "Ahusband." Suggesting one of many. Always that unseemly twist toeverything. Why could she not say "My husband"? Besides, Mrs. Fisherhad, she herself knew not for what reason, taken both the Hampsteadyoung women for widows. War ones. There had been an absence ofmention of husbands at the interview which would not, she considered,be natural if such persons did after all exist. And if a husband wasnot a relation, who was? "Not blood." What a way to talk. Why, ahusband was the first of all relations. How well she rememberedRuskin--no, it was not Ruskin, it was the Bible that said a man shouldleave his father and mother and cleave only to his wife; showing thatshe became by marriage an even more than blood relation. And if thehusband's father and mother were to be nothing to him compared to hiswife, how much less than nothing ought the wife's father and mother beto her compared to her husband. She herself had been unable to leaveher father and mother in order to cleave to Mr. Fisher because theywere no longer, when she married, alive, but she certainly would haveleft them if they had been there to leave. Not blood, indeed. Sillytalk.

  The dinner was very good. Succulence succeeded succulence.Costanza had determined to do as she chose in the matter of cream andeggs the first week, and see what happened at the end of it when thebills had to be paid. Her experience of the English was that they werequiet about bills. They were shy of words. They believed readily.Besides, who was the mistress here? In the absence of a definite one,it occurred to Costanza that she might as well be the mi
stress herself.So she did as she chose about the dinner, and it was very good.

  The four, however, were so much preoccupied by their ownconversation that they ate it without noticing how good it was. EvenMrs. Fisher, she who in such matters was manly, did not notice. Theentire excellent cooking was to her as though it were not; which showshow much she must have been stirred.

  She was stirred. It was that Mrs. Wilkins. She was enough tostir anybody. And she was undoubtedly encouraged by Lady Caroline,who, in her turn, was no doubt influenced by the Chianti.

  Mrs. Fisher was very glad there were no men present, for theycertainly would have been foolish about Lady Caroline. She wasprecisely the sort of young woman to unbalance them; especially, Mrs.Fisher recognized, at that moment. Perhaps it was the Chiantimomentarily intensifying her personality, but she was undeniably mostattractive; and there were few things Mrs. Fisher disliked more thanhaving to look on while sensible, intelligent men, who the momentbefore were talking seriously and interestingly about real matters,became merely foolish and simpering--she had seen them actuallysimpering--just because in walked a bit of bird-brained beauty. EvenMr. Gladstone, that great wise statesman, whose hand had once restedfor an unforgettable moment solemnly on her head, would have, she felt,on perceiving Lady Caroline left off talking sense and horriblyembarked on badinage.

  "You see," Mrs. Wilkins said--a silly trick that, with which shemostly began her sentences; Mrs. Fisher each time wished to say,"Pardon me--I do not see, I hear"--but why trouble?--"You see," saidMrs. Wilkins, leaning across towards Lady Caroline, "we arranged,didn't we, in London that if any of us wanted to we could each inviteone guest. So now I'm doing it."

  "I don't remember that," said Mrs. Fisher, her eyes on her plate.

  "Oh yes, we did--didn't we, Rose?"

  "Yes--I remember," said Lady Caroline. "Only it seemed soincredible that one could ever want to. One's whole idea was to getaway from one's friends."

  "And one's husbands."

  Again that unseemly plural. But how altogether unseemly, thoughtMrs. Fisher. Such implications. Mrs. Arbuthnot clearly thought sotoo, for she had turned red.

  "And family affection," said Lady Caroline--or was it the Chiantispeaking? Surely it was the Chianti.

  "And the want of family affection," said Mrs. Wilkins--what alight she was throwing on her home life and real character.

  "That wouldn't be so bad," said Lady Caroline. "I'd stay withthat. It would give one room."

  "Oh no, no--it's dreadful," cried Mrs. Wilkins. "It's as if onehad no clothes on."

  "But I like that," said Lady Caroline.

  "Really--" said Mrs. Fisher.

  "It's a divine feeling, getting rid of things," said LadyCaroline, who was talking altogether to Mrs. Wilkins and paid noattention to the other two.

  "Oh, but in a bitter wind to have nothing on and know there neverwill be anything on and you going to get colder and colder till at lastyou die of it--that's what it was like, living with somebody who didn'tlove one."

  These confidences, thought Mrs. Fisher . . . and no excusewhatever for Mrs. Wilkins, who was making them entirely on plain water.Mrs. Arbuthnot, judging from her face, quite shared Mrs. Fisher'sdisapproval; she was fidgeting.

  "But didn't he?" asked Lady Caroline--every bit as shamelesslyunreticent as Mrs. Wilkins.

  "Mellersh? He showed no signs of it."

  "Delicious," murmured Lady Caroline.

  "Really--" said Mrs. Fisher.

  "I didn't think it was at all delicious. I was miserable. Andnow, since I've been here, I simply stare at myself being miserable.As miserable as that. And about Mellersh."

  "You mean he wasn't worth it."

  "Really--" said Mrs. Fisher.

  "No, I don't. I mean I've suddenly got well."

  Lady Caroline, slowly twisting the stem of her glass in herfingers, scrutinized the lit-up face opposite.

  "And now I'm well I find I can't sit here and gloat all tomyself. I can't be happy, shutting him out. I must share. Iunderstand exactly what the Blessed Damozel felt like."

  "What was the Blessed Damozel?" asked Scrap.

  "Really--" said Mrs. Fisher; and with such emphasis this timethat Lady Caroline turned to her.

  "Ought I to know?" she asked. "I don't know any natural history.It sounds like a bird."

  "It is a poem," said Mrs. Fisher with extraordinary frost.

  "Oh," said Scrap.

  "I'll lend it to you," said Mrs. Wilkins, over whose facelaughter rippled.

  "No," said Scrap.

  "And its author," said Mrs. Fisher icily, "though not perhapsquite what one would have wished him to be, was frequently at myfather's table."

  "What a bore for you," said Scrap. "That's what mother's alwaysdoing--inviting authors. I hate authors. I wouldn't mind them so muchif they didn't write books. Go on about Mellersh," she said, turningto Mrs. Wilkins.

  "Really--" said Mrs. Fisher.

  "All those empty beds," said Mrs. Wilkins.

  "What empty beds?" asked Scrap.

  "The ones in this house. Why, of course they each ought to havesomebody happy inside them. Eight beds, and only four people. It'sdreadful, dreadful to be so greedy and keep everything just foroneself. I want Rose to ask her husband out too. You and Mrs. Fisherhaven't got husbands, but why not give some friend a glorious time?"

  Rose bit her lip. She turned red, she turned pale. If onlyLotty would keep quiet, she thought. It was all very well to havesuddenly become a saint and want to love everybody, but need she be sotactless? Rose felt that all her poor sore places were being dancedon. If only Lotty would keep quiet . . .

  And Mrs. Fisher, with even greater frostiness than that withwhich she had received Lady Caroline's ignorance of the BlessedDamozel, said, "There is only one unoccupied bedroom in this house."

  "Only one?" echoed Mrs. Wilkins, astonished. "Then who are inall the others?"

  "We are," said Mrs. Fisher.

  "But we're not in all the bedrooms. There must be at least six.That leaves two over, and the owner told us there were eight beds--didn't he Rose?"

  "There are six bedrooms," said Mrs. Fisher; for both she and LadyCaroline had thoroughly searched the house on arriving, in order to seewhich part of it they would be most comfortable in, and they both knewthat there were six bedrooms, two of which were very small, and in oneof these small ones Francesca slept in the company of a chair and achest of drawers, and the other, similarly furnished, was empty.

  Mrs. Wilkins and Mrs. Arbuthnot had hardly looked at the house,having spent most of their time out-of-doors gaping at the scenery, andhad, in the agitated inattentiveness of their minds when first theybegan negotiating for San Salvatore, got into their heads that theeight beds of which the owner spoke were the same as eight bedrooms;which they were not. There were indeed eight beds, but four of themwere in Mrs. Wilkins's and Mrs. Arbuthnot's rooms.

  "There are six bedrooms," repeated Mrs. Fisher. "We have four,Francesca has the fifth, and the sixth is empty."

  "So that," said Scrap, "However kind we feel we would be if wecould, we can't. Isn't it fortunate?"

  "But then there's only room for one?" said Mrs. Wilkins, lookinground at the three faces.

  "Yes--and you've got him," said Scrap.

  Mrs. Wilkins was taken aback. This question of the beds was unexpected.In inviting Mellersh she had intended to put him in one of the fourspare-rooms that she imagined were there. When there were plenty ofrooms and enough servants there was no reason why they should, as theydid in their small, two-servanted house at home, share the same one.Love, even universal love, the kind of love with which she felt herselfflooded, should not be tried. Much patience and self-effacement wereneeded for successful married sleep. Placidity; a steady faith; thesetoo were needed. She was sure she would be much fonder of Mellersh,and he not mind her nearly so much, if they were not shut up togetherat night, if in the morning they could meet with the cheery affectionof fri
ends between whom lies no shadow of differences about the windowor the washing arrangements, or of absurd little choked-down resentmentsat something that had seemed to one of them unfair. Her happiness, shefelt, and her ability to be friends with everybody, was the result ofher sudden new freedom and its peace. Would there be that sense offreedom, that peace, after a night shut up with Mellersh? Would she beable in the morning to be full towards him, as she was at that momentfull, of nothing at all but loving-kindness? After all, she hadn't beenvery long in heaven. Suppose she hadn't been in it long enough forher to have become fixed in blandness? And only that morning what anextraordinary joy it had been to find herself alone when she woke, andable to pull the bed-clothes any way she liked!

  Francesca had to nudge her. She was so much absorbed that shedid not notice the pudding.

  "If," thought Mrs. Wilkins, distractedly helping herself, "Ishare my room with Mellersh I risk losing all I now feel about him. Ifon the other hand I put him in the one spare-room, I prevent Mrs.Fisher and Lady Caroline from giving somebody a treat. True they don'tseem to want to at present, but at any moment in this place one or theother of them may be seized with a desire to make somebody happy, andthen they wouldn't be able to because of Mellersh."

  "What a problem," she said aloud, her eyebrows puckered.

  "What is?" asked Scrap.

  "Where to put Mellersh."

  Scrap stared. "Why, isn't one room enough for him?" she asked.

  "Oh yes, quite. But then there won't be any room left at all--any room for somebody you may want to invite."

  "I shan't want to," said Scrap.

  "Or you," said Mrs. Wilkins to Mrs. Fisher. "Rose, of course,doesn't count. I'm sure she would like sharing her room with herhusband. It's written all over her."

  "Really--" said Mrs. Fisher.

  "Really what?" asked Mrs. Wilkins, turning hopefully to her, forshe thought the word this time was the preliminary to a helpfulsuggestion.

  It was not. It stood by itself. It was, as before, mere frost.

  Challenged, however, Mrs. Fisher did fasten it on to a sentence."Really am I to understand," she asked, "that you propose to reservethe one spare-room for the exclusive use of your own family?"

  "He isn't my own family," said Mrs. Wilkins. "He's my husband.You see--"

  "I see nothing," Mrs. Fisher could not this time refrain frominterrupting--for what an intolerable trick. "At the most I hear, andthat reluctantly."

  But Mrs. Wilkins, as impervious to rebuke as Mrs. Fisher hadfeared, immediately repeated the tiresome formula and launched out intoa long and excessively indelicate speech about the best place for theperson she called Mellersh to sleep in.

  Mellersh--Mrs. Fisher, remembering the Thomases and Johns andAlfreds and Roberts of her day, plain names that yet had all becomeglorious, thought it sheer affection to be christened Mellersh--was, itseemed, Mrs. Wilkins's husband, and therefore his place was clearlyindicated. Why this talk? She herself, as if foreseeing his arrival,had had a second bed put in Mrs. Wilkins's room. There were certainthings in life which were never talked about but only done. Mostthings connected with husbands were not talked about; and to have awhole dinner-table taken up with a discussion as to where one of themshould sleep was an affront to the decencies. How and where husbandsslept should be known only to their wives. Sometimes it was not knownto them, and then the marriage had less happy moments; but thesemoments were not talked about either; the decencies continued to bepreserved. At least, it was so in her day. To have to hear whetherMr. Wilkins should or should not sleep with Mrs. Wilkins, and thereasons why he should and the reasons why he shouldn't, was bothuninteresting and indelicate.

  She might have succeeded in imposing propriety and changing theconversation if it had not been for Lady Caroline. Lady Carolineencouraged Mrs. Wilkins, and threw herself into the discussion withevery bit as much unreserve as Mrs. Wilkins herself. No doubt she wasimpelled on this occasion by Chianti, but whatever the reason there itwas. And, characteristically, Lady Caroline was all for Mr. Wilkinsbeing given the solitary spare-room. She took that for granted. Anyother arrangement would be impossible, she said; her expression was,Barbarous. Had she never read her Bible, Mrs. Fisher was tempted toinquire--And they two shall be one flesh? Clearly also, then, oneroom. But Mrs. Fisher did not inquire. She did not care even toallude to such texts to some one unmarried.

  However, there was one way she could force Mr. Wilkins into hisproper place and save the situation: she could say she herselfintended to invite a friend. It was her right. They had all said so.Apart from propriety, it was monstrous that Mrs. Wilkins should want tomonopolise the one spare-room, when in her own room was everythingnecessary for her husband. Perhaps she really would invite somebody--not invite, but suggest coming. There was Kate Lumley, for instance.Kate could perfectly afford to come and pay her share; and she was ofher own period and knew, and had known, most of the people she herselfknew and had known. Kate, of course, had only been on the fringe; sheused to be asked only to the big parties, not to the small ones, andshe still was only on the fringe. There were some people who never gotoff the fringe, and Kate was one. Often, however, such people weremore permanently agreeable to be with than the others, in that theyremained grateful.

  Yes; she might really consider Kate. The poor soul had nevermarried, but then everybody could not expect to marry, and she wasquite comfortably off--not too comfortably, but just comfortably enoughto pay her own expenses if she came and yet be grateful. Yes; Kate wasthe solution. If she came, at one stroke, Mrs. Fisher saw, would theWilkinses be regularized and Mrs. Wilkins be prevented from having morethan her share of the rooms. Also, Mrs. Fisher would save herself fromisolation spiritual isolation. She desired physical isolation betweenmeals, but she disliked that isolation which is of the spirit. Suchisolation would, she feared, certainly be hers with these threealien-minded young women. Even Mrs. Arbuthnot was, owing to herfriendship with Mrs. Wilkins, necessarily alien-minded. In Kate shewould have a support. Kate, without intruding on her sitting-room, forKate was tractable, would be there at meals to support her.

  Mrs. Fisher said nothing at the moment; but presently in thedrawing-room, when they were gathered round the wood fire--she haddiscovered there was no fireplace in her own sitting-room, andtherefore she would after all be forced, so long as the eveningsremained cool, to spend them in the other room--presently, whileFrancesca was handing coffee round and Lady Caroline was poisoning theair with smoke, Mrs. Wilkins, looking relieved and pleased, said:"Well, if nobody really wants that room, and wouldn't use it anyhow, Ishall be very glad if Mellersh may have it."

  "Of course he must have it," said Lady Caroline.

  Then Mrs. Fisher spoke.

  "I have a friend," she said in her deep voice; and sudden silencefell upon the others.

  "Kate Lumley," said Mrs. Fisher.

  Nobody spoke.

  "Perhaps," continued Mrs. Fisher, addressing Lady Caroline, "youknow her?"

  No, Lady Caroline did not know Kate Lumley; and Mrs. Fisher,without asking the others if they did, for she was sure they knew noone, proceeded. "I wish to invite her to join me," said Mrs. Fisher.

  Complete silence.

  Then Scrap said, turning to Mrs. Wilkins, "That settles Mellersh,then."

  "It settles the question of Mr. Wilkins," said Mrs. Fisher,"although I am unable to understand that there should ever have been aquestion, in the only way that is right."

  "I'm afraid you're in for it, then," said Lady Caroline, again toMrs. Wilkins. "Unless," she added, "he can't come."

  But Mrs. Wilkins, her brow perturbed--for suppose after all shewere not yet quite stable in heaven?--could only say, a littleuneasily, "I see him here."