The four-poster bed was a little overpowering for my small room; and there was one chair with the tapestry seat and back worked by another ancestress, and its fellows were distributed around the house. There was also a beautiful Bokara rug—another relic of Oakland. I saw all these articles with greater clarity it seemed than ever before. I suppose because Ben had suggested that if I were wise I should soon be leaving them and if I were not I might be with them for the rest of my life.
I couldn’t stay long in my room. There was one to whom I could talk, though the idea of doing so a few months ago would have been out of the question. Miriam!
I ran out of the house and went along to Church Cottage—the name of the tiny house at one end of the vicarage grounds. It looked quite pretty, I thought, with the shrubs on either side of the crazy paving path which led to the front door.
Miriam was at home. How she had changed! She looked several years younger, and there was a new dignity about her. I did not need to ask if she was happy.
I stepped straight into the living room; there was only a kitchen and this room on the lower floor and from this living room a staircase twisted up into two bedrooms above. Everything was highly polished and a bowl of azaleas and green leaves stood on the red tablecloth; there were chintz curtains at the window and another bowl of flowers on the hearth on either side of which were two chimney seats. One or two of Miriam’s possessions—brass candlesticks and silver ornaments—looked rather incongruous, but charming, in this humble room.
Miriam’s hair was dressed in a less severe style than she had worn it before, and she looked very domesticated in her starched print gown as she carried a duster in her hand.
“Oh Miriam,” I cried, “I had to see you. I wanted to talk.”
That she was pleased, there was no doubt. “I’ll make some tea,” she said. “Ernest is out. The vicar works him too hard.”
I put my head on one side and studied her. “You’re a joy to behold,” I said. “You make a splendid case for the married state.” It was true. How she had changed! She was indulgent, in love with her curate and with life; and the fact that she had turned her back on this blissful state for so long only made her appreciate it more now that she had achieved it.
“I’ve had a proposal,” I blurted out. “Well, a sort of proposal.”
Little lights of fear showed in her eyes. “Not…someone at Oakland?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Jessica!” Now she looked like the old Miriam, for my words had transported her back in time to that other occasion when another Jessica had had a proposal from a visitor to Oakland. “Are you sure…”
“No,” I said. “I’m not.”
She looked relieved. “I should be very careful.”
“I intend to be. Miriam, suppose you hadn’t married Ernest…suppose you had gone on as you were…”
I saw the look of horror in her face. “I couldn’t bear to think of that,” she said firmly.
“Yet you hesitated so long.”
“I think it was a matter of plucking up courage.”
“And even if it hadn’t worked out so well with Ernest would you still be glad you left?”
“How could it possibly not have turned out well with Ernest?”
“You didn’t always think that, did you, or you would have done it before.”
“I was afraid…”
“Afraid of your mother’s sneers and prophecies. They don’t worry you now.”
“I don’t care how poor we are…and we can manage. I’ve discovered I’m a good manager. Ernest says so. And even if things hadn’t turned out so well, to tell the truth, Jessica, I should have been glad to get away from the Dower House.”
“Who wouldn’t?” I thought of living there for years and years without the compensation of going to Oakland to see Ben, and I knew I couldn’t face it. Rather…oh no…not marriage with that man…and yet I wanted to contemplate it. What would it be like? It would be a marriage of convenience if ever there was one. Perhaps we could come to terms. Perhaps we could do it for Ben’s sake and lead our own lives.
I began to tingle with excitement. I knew I could not face dreary years at the Dower House.
“But let’s talk about you,” said Miriam. “What about this man?”
“He’s Ben Henniker’s son and he’s come over from Australia.”
“You can’t have known him very long.”
“One does not have to know people all one’s life…just because you and Ernest did.”
“But then you can be so much more sure.”
“Perhaps it’s more exciting not to be.”
“Whatever do you mean? Oh, Jessica, you are headstrong. You’re like your mother, but she had a more gentle nature.”
“Miriam, I can’t stay forever in that miserable Dower House listening to Grandmother’s saying the litany ten times a day: ‘We’ve seen better days, O Lord, don’t You forget it. Look down on this miserable husband of mine who brought us to this and never let him forget it because I’m not going to.’”
“You can be very irreverent, Jessica.”
“Perhaps, but what I say is true. I don’t want to be a prisoner all my life as you were for so much of yours. This proposal is a secret as yet so don’t mention it.”
“I shall have to tell Ernest. We never have any secrets. He might consider it his duty…”
“Let him remember how Grandmother kept you apart all those years. This is my secret and I expect it to be kept. I’ve only told you because I wanted to talk about marriage, and I’ve not made up my mind yet. I thought you’d understand.”
“Oh, I do, and I think that if you really love each other you shouldn’t hesitate. I do wonder what Mother will say.”
“She is my least concern. You were scared of her all those years. I wouldn’t be. But you took the plunge eventually. You snapped your fingers at your mother who had been keeping you and Ernest apart all those years and now you’re glad.”
“Yes, I’m glad,” said Miriam fervently.
She was thoughtful for a while, swaying in her opinions. The same old Miriam! Much would depend on what Ernest thought, for he was the rock on which she rested now, and she would change her color—chameleon that she was—according to his views.
She went to a cupboard and brought out a bottle of wine—her own make, which she had brought from the Dower House. She had always been proud of the wines which she had made in the still room. My grandmother had said: “You’d better learn to be useful about the house, for soon we shall have no servants.” Miriam had busied herself, and how glad she was of that now!
“We’ll drink to your future,” she said. “This is more suitable than tea.”
So as we sat at the table and drank to my future and hers, I was wondering why I had talked to Miriam as though I were actually contemplating marriage.
***
I scarcely slept that night. Next morning at prayers I did not listen to my grandmother’s voice but said my own personal prayer, which was a call for help, and I thought ironically that I had never prayed so fervently before and that it was only when I wanted something that I really prayed at all.
After breakfast I performed the tasks my grandmother had set for me, since she insisted that I too learn to manage a house. So I helped Maddy bring in the early lettuces from the kitchen garden and clean the preserving jars for the fruit which would, in due course, be bottled or made into preserves later in the season.
Her sharp eyes had detected that something had happened.
“You’re up to something,” she said. “You’re not here…no, you’re not. You’re miles away. What’s brewing, Miss?”
“I’m no longer a child,” I retorted. “I think you sometimes forget that. I have a perfect right to be preoccupied with matters outside the trivial preparation of bottles to receive the fruits of autu
mn.”
“Hoity-toity,” she replied. “You’ve not been the same since you’ve been on visiting terms at Oakland. And I’m sure I wonder why it’s allowed.”
“As long as you keep your opinions to yourself, Maddy, it is of no consequence.”
“Talk about giving yourself airs…”
“That will be all for this morning,” I said with dignity.
Immediately after luncheon I went to the stream. The world seemed to have turned upside down. Ben, whom I so dearly loved, had lied about my father. How could I reconcile myself to that…and yet how could I stop myself loving Ben and feeling miserable because I feared he would not be with us much longer? And now he had come along with a proposition which he knew was repugnant to me and to Joss, whom he so clearly loved—adored might be a more apt word. I just could not understand him. The alarming fact was that I did not understand myself, because, somewhere at the back of my mind, I was assessing the situation. I was actually considering the possibility of making this marriage.
As I sat there, I saw Joss Madden emerge from the copse and come towards me.
“I saw you from the turret,” he said. “I thought it would be a good idea to have a talk. Come over.”
It seemed to me that it would be more convenient to be on the Oakland side of the stream than on that of the Dower House, where I could be seen by someone from the house, so I obeyed.
As we walked across the grass and into the copse he said: “Have you decided?”
“It’s an impossible situation,” I cried.
“It exists and therefore can’t be impossible. On the other hand it’s a straightforward proposition.”
“Have you made up your mind?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m ready to go ahead.”
“You mean…you would marry me?”
“That was the proposition I thought. Oh come, don’t look so mournful. You won’t be going to your execution, you know.”
“It feels rather like that.”
He gave that loud, explosive laugh. Then he was serious. “I’m afraid Ben won’t live much longer. He was very weak this morning. And he wants the ceremony to take place before he dies.”
“That could be…soon.”
“Once you’ve agreed there’ll be no reason for delay.”
We came to a tree trunk, and he took my hand and pulled me down to sit beside him. He dropped my hand immediately but I was very much aware of him. I felt an excitement which I could not suppress.
“I gather,” he said, “that you had no one else in mind?”
“In mind?”
“Let’s talk plain English. You haven’t a lover…you weren’t contemplating marriage with someone else?”
“No.”
“Then it’s fairly straightforward. I could get a special license, I think…in view of Ben’s illness. We could be married very shortly.”
I replied: “What of you? Were you contemplating marrying someone else?”
“I was not,” he said.
“You seem to take all this in your stride.”
“How else could I take it? I see what Ben feels. He had a fixation on your mother. It was not only herself…it was all this…the stately mansion, the family tracing itself back to the Conqueror…and he wants the families linked. He has the house, but he hasn’t got the blood. If you and I married, our offspring would have a modicum of the blue-blooded variety through you, and with the generations to come the family could be rather proud of itself.” He laughed cynically.
I was scarcely listening because I had been caught up in what he had said about offspring. That was too much.
I said sharply: “I’m afraid I never could.”
He looked straight at me, and it was as though he were probing my innermost thoughts. I felt very uncomfortable, because I knew that he understood what had alarmed me.
“There’s a great deal at stake,” he said. “Ben means what he says. I know him well. He’s set on this and he knows that the only way he could get us married at such short notice is to threaten what will happen to us if we don’t. He can be ruthless, our Ben.”
“I know that.”
“He’s told me a great deal about you. That family of yours…your life here…how stultifying it is. He’s sentencing you for life to the Dower House unless you marry me. The devil or the deep blue sea. That’s your choice. And for me: The loss of command of the Company which I have helped to build up as surely as Ben has. I have some shares in it, but Ben has the major holding, and he’s threatening to pass them to someone else. It would mean if I stayed with the Company I’d be there in a minor capacity. He knows very well I never would. So he has netted me. He knows I’d accept anything rather…”
“Even me?”
“Even marriage. Which for thirty-two years I have successfully eluded.”
“So there have been those who have angled for you?”
“Countless numbers.”
“Perhaps they came in time to regard their lack of success as good fortune.”
“They wouldn’t realize that. The lost prize is always more desirable than that which is won. Did you know that?”
“I don’t believe it’s true—but that’s beside the point.”
“You’re quite right. We don’t want to be sidetracked into frivolous discussion when there is something so much more important to occupy us. We are both faced with a dilemma. If we marry we benefit considerably. We both have a great deal to lose if we don’t. I know what it will mean to me. You must have realized that too.”
I was contemplating going back to the old life before I had known Ben—older now, knowing a little more of how exciting life could be, and I knew I should hate it.
“So,” he went on, “I’ve made up my mind. I’ll marry you immediately, so all you have to do is say you’ll marry me.”
He put an arm about my shoulders, and I drew back in dismay. Again he gave that brief laugh.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll make it easy for you. We’ll marry and it’ll be, as they say, a Marriage in Name Only. That’s until both parties want it otherwise. What about that?”
I was silent, and he went on: “I sense your relief.”
I said: “Ben may not agree to those terms.”
“They would be a matter for us to decide surely.”
“I’m not sure. It’s grandchildren he wants.”
“He can’t have it all his own way. Listen to me. We’ll marry and go our own ways. You will escape from the Dower House, and I shall have the full command of the Company. Now you must admit that does seem a way out.”
I stood up suddenly. He did the same, towering above me. There was an amused twitch to his lips as he laid his hands on my shoulders.
“Negotiations seem to be progressing favorably,” he said. “Shall we go and tell Ben?”
“Not yet. I’m undecided.”
“All right. But don’t delay too long. At least it’s just a matter of indecision and not a blank refusal.”
I turned and left him, going back over the stream to the Dower House.
***
I went to see Ben. I was glad that he was alone. He looked a little better and I commented on this.
“Yes, I’m determined to live until I see you two married. Tell me, Jess, have you thought any more about it?”
“I have thought a great deal.”
“Of course you have. You’re going to wake up and live now. You’ll have to keep your eyes on Joss. He’s a favorite with the women.”
“It’s too much to ask, Ben.”
“Now then, are you going back to the Dower House life? I’d rather go to the penitentiary, that I would. That grandmother of yours…she’s like vinegar now. What’ll she be like in ten years’ time…gall, bitter aloes…She’s not like a wine that’ll improve with age. You’ll love the
excitement of it. The Company…Fancy Town…It’s in your blood. You’ll come back here to Oakland now and then…It’ll be a wonderful life.”
I was silent, and he went on: “Look, Jess, you’ve got to grow up…if you’re going out there. Life’s lived in the raw there. But it’s life. That’s the great thing. I can see you at Peacocks. Has Joss talked to you of Peacocks?” I shook my head. “He will. He loves the place. This will be yours, too. Just think of that. When you come to England you’ll be the lady of the manor. I wonder what the old lady of the Dower House is going to say to that! I’d like to see her face…that I would. Just think of your little ’uns…playing on these lawns, in the copse, just as you would have done if you’d had your right.”
“There’s one thing I have to tell you, Ben. If I did marry him, I couldn’t…I couldn’t live with him as his wife, and that means that your idea of the little ones on the lawn would simply not be possible. I’m sure that in these circumstances the whole thing falls through.”
I had expected dismay, but there was nothing of the sort. Ben laughed so much that I feared he would exhaust himself.
“You know, Jessie,” he said when he had recovered from his laughter, “you’re enlivening my last days, you are. You never fail to please me. So you’ve made up your mind to marry him, have you?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ve just told you why it’s impossible.”
“Listen. I want you two married. I knew Joss would agree. There was too much to lose. I could rely on the pride of my peacock. As to the other little matter, well, I’m ready to leave that to Joss.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Ah, danger signals! I’ll leave it like this. I’ll see you married, and I’ll die hoping that one day you two are going to see what’s staring you in the face and that is that you were meant for each other. It’s the looker-on that sees the best of the game, and I’m a very observant looker-on. I’ve lived every minute of the days God gave me. I’m like a cat that’s had nine lives. I’m coming to the end of my ninth now, but I’ve picked up a lot in those lives and I know what I am talking about. So it’s settled, is it? I accept your terms and you’ll accept mine. I want a nice wedding in the church…so that everyone knows.”