“Would you mind beginning at the beginning again?” Ursula said mildly. “And leave Florence alone. She’s my maid, not yours, and I like the rakish way she wears her caps.”
“Well, well, my sweet. I only thought she might like to know. I should be grateful to anyone who told me I had a smut on my nose.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d hate them, like the rest of us. What about Uncle William?”
“He’s taking the yacht to the eastern Mediterranean for the winter and he wants us both to go.”
“What for?”
“Company, of course.”
“Well, father bores me sometimes, but his brother bores me all the time.”
“Oh, darling, William is a sweet thing!”
“You’re going, I see.”
“Well, my dear, it would be nice. You know, it will be almost like doing a rest cure, and much less expensive. It might even save me a face-lifting. I should most certainly need one before May if I spent the winter in town. Besides, I think we should be nice to William. I always think it must have been such a disappointment to him when your father got better that time. He’s a nice thing, William. I’m very fond of him. Don’t you think it would be nice for you to have a month or two in the Aegean Islands, darling?”
“I’d as soon go to St. Kilda.”
“But you won’t be vegetating, darling. There are all those fascinating risky places to go to along the coast.”
“I’ve been. They’re about as fascinating as porridge. Besides, I’m going for a voyage on my own.”
“Where?”
“Down the river to Greenwich and back. It costs ninepence, I believe.”
“Don’t be silly, darling. You won’t be bored on the Foreland, I promise you. There’s quite an amusing party, on the whole.”
“Party? This is the first I’ve heard of a party.”
“Darling, they’d need someone aboard if it was only for ballast.”
“And who are the ballast?”
“There’s Lilian Muncaster, Babs Buckley, Teddy Lunn, and George Osborne.”
“And—? You’ve left it an odd number.”
“Oh, there’s young Torbridge.”
There was an expressive silence.
“He isn’t nearly as idiotic as he looks, darling,” Lady Wilmington said pleadingly.
“I wondered why you showed such art unusual eagerness for my company!”
“And Torbridge Abbey really is a wonderful place.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Mother.”
“I don’t want to seem brutal, darling, but it is time you showed some signs of settling down. All these engagements aren’t doing you any good. People are beginning to look askance. And you know there wasn’t anything really wrong with Bonjie!”
“When I think of Bonjie now,” Ursula said slowly, “I get sick at the stomach.”
“Darling, don’t he so coarse. It’s just that you’re hard to please. You ask too much of people. And Torbridge is a very nice boy, if not very bright.”
“Thank Uncle William for me but tell him that nothing—nothing—would induce me to leave town this winter.”
“Darling, aren’t you ever going to settle down?”
“Dying to be rid of me? Well, I’m seriously thinking of it.”
“Darling!”
“But I warn you, when I settle down I may settle with a bump.”
“Darling, I expect that means you have something dreadful up your sleeve. But I suppose you’ll go your own way whatever I say. I only hope it isn’t an organ-grinder, or something like that. It’s bad enough to have one of my children trying to break my heart, without having the other doing it too. You know, I think if Chitterne hadn’t gone to Fleet Street he wouldn’t have got all those stupid ideas of equality. The Press is riddled with socialism, just riddled. I expect it’s having to work at nights. If Chitterne wanted to work he should have taken a farm and worked like a gentleman.”
“I think Fleet Street is doing him a lot of good. Besides, he wants to make his own living, and there’s no money in farming nowadays.”
“No money in farming! What nonsense! I met a man at dinner the other night who had sold his to a golf-club for thirty thousand. What are you laughing at? Darling, I hope you won’t do anything scandalous while I am away.”
“That would be the best time to do it, surely. When are you going?”
“The end of next week, I think. Do you think I look better in navy blue or grey? I must get a couple of coats and skirts.”
“As long as you don’t wear a yachting cap I’m sure you’ll look all right in either.”
“Darling, you know I never wear a yachting cap! So ageing! never forget Janet Goddridge at Cowes last year. Such a sight. It must have been the chauffeur’s. The cap, I mean. I’ll have them both navy blue, I think. The coats and skirts, I mean. It shows up the skin best. Au revoir, darling. I think it’s scandalously mean of you not to give young Torbridge a chance.”
When she had gone Florence returned, furtively assuring herself that her cap was straight, to say that there was a young lady from Laurier’s waiting in the sitting-room with patterns for the blouse part of the cinnamon suit.
“All right. Tell her I’ll be in in a minute,” said Ursula, who had come across Stüwe’s note, written on the night of the party, and was smiling over it again. It was an atrociously written document, executed on cheap hotel notepaper, and liberally sprinkled with German letters among the English. He thanked his dear lady for the surprise, which had indeed been a good one. The little boy could play not too badly at all. It did not take the skin off one’s soul to listen to him, and that could not be said for many people. Presently, when he had worked harder, he might even be a little good. But that was immaterial. He would never be a master.
What was important was that he could compose music that was his own and no one else’s. He was quite original and did not know it, and as such his price was above rubies. “I have talked to him long in my room here. I go back to Germany to-morrow and I have wanted to take him with me, but he is horrified at the thought of leaving London. You English! I do not know how you have conquered the world!”
She folded up the untidy scrawl, and locked it away in one of the pigeon-holes. Then she went through to the sitting-room to consider the question of the cinnamon suit. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have the cinnamon? Cinnamon was so—
“Good morning. I hope you have brought every possible pattern? I want the blouse part to match the—Hul-lo!” She stopped, staring at Sara. “It’s you! How funny! Are you at Laurier’s then? How is it I’ve never run across you?”
“I’m in the workroom mostly, you see. I cut and design. I don’t usually see customers in front. And when you come, Madame usually does the fitting herself. But to-day I asked Madame if I might see you myself about the stuff for the suit. I wanted to speak to you, and I thought that this would be a good way of seeing you without everyone knowing.”
“I see. I’m glad you came. I was hoping you’d come to tea with me one day, so that we might get to know each other better.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.” Sara appeared awkward and ill at ease. “Will you settle about the stuff before I talk to you?”
“You sound very serious. Chit hasn’t been running amok, has he?”
“Oh, no. Chit’s all right.”
“Is something else the matter, then?”
“Will you decide about the material first? You see, I’m supposed to be on business.”
They discussed the patterns which she had brought, and after a little argument Sara persuaded her to take the one which she (Sara) thought would look best in the end.
“Well, that’s that. Do sit down. Will you have a cocktail or something?”
Sara said no, that she felt braver without.
“Brave! What do you want bucking up about?”
“You see, I’ve come to talk about Gareth.”
Ursula stared.
“Yes. I?
??m Gareth’s sister.”
“You are—! The antagonism which had shown itself on Ursula’s face at the mention of Gareth’s name faded into delight. “What a funny world! My dear, how nice. But why on earth didn’t you tell me before? Why hasn’t Chit told me? Didn’t he know? But he must have known!”
“Yes, Chit knew, of course. He wanted to tell you, but I asked him not to. You see, I knew you wouldn’t approve very much of me, and I was afraid that if you knew Gareth was my brother you might stop taking an interest in him and being nice to him. I thought that you could do such a lot for Gareth if you were interested in him, and I didn’t want to spoil anything for him.”
“Is that all! Well, you did me two injustices. I don’t disapprove of you. I think Chit is nearly as lucky as he thinks he is, and a lot more than he deserves to be. And in the second place it would take more than a sister to make me drop Gareth. If that’s all that’s worrying you, cheer up, and come to tea with me next Saturday.”
“But that’s not it. That’s not it at all,” Sara said, distressed. “It’s something quite different. When I first found out that Gareth knew you I thought you were just taking him up because you admired his playing. He does play well, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then I found that you were—well, that you were seriously interested in him.”
“That I was in love with him, in fact.”
“Yes, and that he’s in love with you.”
“Well, what difference does that make?”
“It makes this difference; that before, you were helping him, and now you’re ruining him.”
“Ruining? What do you mean?”
“Just what I say. You’re taking away everything he has and giving him nothing worth while in return.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. My dear Sara! I can do more for Gareth than he ever dreamed of achieving. I can make him famous.”
“And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
“What will you do with him when he is famous?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You know quite well that nothing interests you for long. You know quite well that Gareth is just another affaire to you. What is going to become of him when you are tired of him? You’ll have taken away the things that make him happy now, you’ll have made him like things he can’t go on having, he’ll be all alone when you’ve finished with him. What good will it be to him then that a few hundred people know his name?”
“It is you who don’t understand. I’m not having an affaire, as you call it, with Gareth. I love him.”
“So does Molly.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Ursula lightly, but disconcerted.
“Molly would have made him happy all his life. She knows him and understands him. And you’re taking Molly away from him. What do you think you can do for him that will make up for that?”
“Surely I can do all that Molly could for him, and much more!”
“When you talk about doing things for him you think only of things like pushing him on the world, and making love, and things like that. Things you like doing yourself. Would you do things you didn’t like for him, that’s the question. Would you put up with his tantrums? You haven’t seen Gareth in a tantrum yet, have you?”
“No.”
“Well, Gareth’s a darling, but he’s no angel. When he came in tired and touchy and said something silly that he didn’t mean in the least, you’d just walk away somewhere and enjoy yourself and leave him to it.”
“And very good for him, too,”
“No, it wouldn’t. He would just get miserable and discouraged and angry with himself and ail the world. Molly wouldn’t walk away. She’d cook his supper and josh him out of it inside ten minutes. She’d make him happy, I tell you. And keep him happy. They were just made for each other.”
“I expect that is why he fell in love with me. Preordained things are apt to be dull.”
“He fell in love with you because you dazzled him. He hadn’t met anyone like you before.”
“Then it was wonderful luck for both of us. Much better than preordination.”
“You’re making fun of it! You can’t care for him if you can make fun of it.”
“I should have thought that it was the other way about. One is only serious when the thing doesn’t matter.”
“But that is nonsense! You are just trying to put me off. But I’m not going to be put off. It isn’t a thing to be flippant about. It’s Gareth’s whole future.”
“To my mind Gareth’s future never looked as rosy as it does at the moment. If it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me when I met Gareth, I don’t think I flatter myself unduly in believing that it was also the luckiest thing that happened to Gareth. Would you prefer that he spent his life struggling to get dance engagements and things like that, when he might be living in comfort, able to go anywhere and do anything that he wants to? Do you want to have him bowing all his life to a few fat women who have stopped eating long enough to applaud his rendering of ‘O Sole Mio’? What good would it be that he was comfortable in the evenings if all day he had to keep doing things he hated?”
“But he wouldn’t hate it as much as that! Gareth doesn’t hate anything very strenuously. The things that make him miserable are not the things he has to do, but the things people do to him. If he was happy at home he would be happy almost whatever he had to do.”
“And with me he will be happy on both counts.”
“For a little. He would be deliriously happy for a little, I don’t doubt that. It would be like heaven on earth. But think of the awful crash afterwards. You wouldn’t be interested in him once you were tired of him. You know you wouldn’t! You’ll wonder what you saw in him. You’ll probably think him childish, and—and common. You’ll be a little sorry for him, but you’ll want to forget him as soon as possible. And then what?”
“Do you always think so far ahead when you are planning your own existence? It must be rather exhausting.”
“I don’t think I plan mine at all. It just happens.”
“And wouldn’t you feel rather resentful if someone stepped in and tried to alter your life behind your back, as it were? That is what you are doing to Gareth?”
“Do you think I haven’t been nearly crazy with thinking before I brought myself to the point of coming here like this? Do you think I wanted to come! I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. I loathe meddling in other people’s affairs. I tried all sorts of excuses with myself to get out of it. But somehow I had to come. If I didn’t there was no one else. I thought that at least I’d put it openly to you and show you what you’re doing. You probably never gave it a moment’s thought. Someone had to explain things to you, and there was only me.”
“Don’t you think Gareth can take care of himself? He isn’t a piece of merchandise to be bargained for. You’re treating him as if he were a fool.”
“No, he’s no fool. But he’s impressionable. You encouraged him, and you could discourage him.”
Ursula stared. “Are you suggesting that I should give him up?”
“Yes, that is what I’m suggesting.” Sara gripped the arms of her chair until the knuckles showed white.
“Then you’re wasting your time.”
“I knew you didn’t love him!”
“Not love him!”
“No. You’re in love with him, and you just grab what you want whether it’s going to destroy him or not.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.”
“If you loved him what would matter to you would be his happiness, not yours.”
“But I tell you, I can make him happy.”
“For how long? For how long?”
Ursula lifted a shoulder. “Who knows? How long does any love last? As long as that.”
“You see! You know it won’t last! You know it yourself!”
“My dear girl, you didn’t expect me to say ‘for ever and ever,’ like a child,
did you? Who can say how long they will love anything or anyone? I don’t think it’s any use prolonging this discussion, do you? Gareth and I are in love with each other, and we’re both happy beyond words, and I don’t see what you expect to gain from upsetting our happiness.”
“I want to keep you both from making an awful mistake. I want to keep you from ruining Gareth’s life. Don’t you see how urgent it is! If he gives up Molly he’ll be giving up something that he’ll never get back. And nothing that you can give him will take the place of it. Molly won’t sit and wait for him to come back, you know. She isn’t that sort. She’ll marry someone else inside six months just to make believe she doesn’t mind. Then when you’re tired of him and he wakens up there’ll be no one. He’ll have lost the thing he depended most on. You’ll go on to something else, but what will he do?”
“Go on to something else too, I expect. I shouldn’t worry, if I were you. It’s all so far in the future. I’ve never understood people who spend their lives saving for their funerals.”
“Look here,” Sara said, “I know you don’t want me to marry Chit, even though you were nice about it. Well, if you give up Gareth, I’ll give up Chit.” She noticed Ursula’s astonishment. “You don’t believe me? I’ll give you my word on oath that if you let Gareth go I’ll never see Chit again.”
“You talk as if I were hanging on to him!”
“You are.”
“But he’s in love with me.”
“Yes, but you could stop it. You must know how to disillusion people when you’re tired of them. It will hurt him a bit, but not as much as it would later on. If you do it quick he’ll still have Molly.”
Ursula gave a short, hard laugh, and sat still, considering her. “You know, you’re almost incredible. You come here with the most amazing proposition just as if you were asking two sixpenny-pieces for a shilling.”