Family Gathering Page 7

  Sir Jason, it appeared, would like to know whether eleven o’clock would be too early for Mrs. Rome to accompany him.

  “Will eleven be too early for you, my dear?” inquired Lady Rome. “I shouldn’t think so, because the sun looks as though it might stay out, and if you covered your head, don’t you know, you wouldn’t feel the wind.”

  Natalie inquired gently where Sir Jason was going.

  “I told you, my dear, don’t you remember? I can see that I shall have to do your remembering for you, but perhaps it’s like spelling—one can or one can’t, don’t you know. As a girl I never had any difficulty, about the i’s and e’s and whether they came after c or not, but some people go to the end of their lives quite in a fog about it.”

  Natalie indicated that she would be ready at eleven o’clock, trusting that before that hour, she would have found out where her father-in-law was going. It was probable that he was taking her to see the cottages. She put a question to her mother-in-law.

  “Are we going to see those two little cottages?” she asked.

  “Three,” said Lady Rome. “There’s another one, but it’s a dreadful-looking place. If your father draws up at something looking like a yellow mausoleum, you must say at once that you wouldn’t dream of it, and then drive on, but it’s extraordinarily uncomfortable because you’ll be in that cramped little governess cart. I cannot think why they were so much used when I was a girl, because I always thought them the most wretched things. You must cover your head, my dear, when you go.”

  Natalie was ready and waiting at eleven o’clock and Sir Jason, coming round for her in the little cart, looked pleased at her punctuality. He gave her the reins and went inside to put away some papers. Lady Rome came out and gave Natalie some parting instructions in a voice that made the pony rear.

  “The one I think you’ll like,” she said, “is the one with the odd little bird bath in the garden. The only drawback is that you can see Lottie Bellamy’s chimneys and I always think it ruins the view. And don’t let your father persuade you into looking at a horrid yellow house—not that you would, because it’s on the main street of the village and it’s hemmed in on every side and you couldn’t endure it because Tommie Batch comes down from London, don’t you know, and holds receptions on his mother’s front doorstep.”

  Natalie inquired who Mr. Batch was, and Lady Rome stared at her.

  “My dear Natalie, of course you know who Tommie Batch is—and you come from London! He’s Lord Batch now and he’s in one of the Ministries—I don’t know which one, because there are so many—but you can’t open a newspaper without seeing his name. His mother’s cottage is next door to the yellow one. You’ll see her sometimes, because she brings the newspaper account up once a month and gets the money. The poor thing was left a widow with three boys, and they all turned out very well except Tommie. Jimmy has a furniture-remover’s business and Frank is our policeman. Poor Tommie never did anything and I always said that he wasn’t quite right in the head, but he went away and nobody heard anything about him until his mother’s fiftieth birthday, when he sent her twenty pounds. Now he’s Lord Batch and in one of the Ministries—I can’t tell you which—and he comes down to Dummerton very often and a lot of newspaper people come too, and they take photographs of him at the cottage with his mother. Your father says he can’t see how the country can be run properly by Tommie Batch, but I tell him that Clive used to do nothing but climb steeples, don’t you know, and although Tommie didn’t know anything at all when he left here, it’s quite possible that he learnt something afterwards. Here’s your father now, my dear. Remember, no mausoleums—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Sir Jason, going on his way.

  There was unbroken silence for two miles and then Sir Jason told his daughter-in-law that they were passing the East gate of the property and skirting the hill to approach the village of Dummerton. Before the village was reached, however, he turned on to a narrower road and drove along a pretty little valley in which were a farmhouse or two and several little cottages. Towards one of these the trap was directed, and soon Sir Jason pulled up at the gate of one of the larger dwellings. To Natalie’s surprise, he sat still and seemed in no hurry to alight.

  “This is one of ’em,” he said. “The other’s there”— he pointed to a cottage about a mile away. “You can choose whichever of ’em you like,” he went on. “Told William I wouldn’t influence you. Your choice, not mine. But I shouldn’t think”—he eyed the cottage sourly—“I shouldn’t think you’d want to waste any time over this one.”

  Natalie looked at the pretty little place. It reminded her of a picture on the cover of a magazine and she saw nothing about it to account for the look of distaste on her father-in-law’s face.

  “It looks charming,” she said. “Could I—could we go inside?”

  Sir Jason took out a key and soon Natalie was standing in a little passage, from which rooms opened on both sides. At the end of the passage was a little stairway, and half-way up it a little window. Natalie gave a murmur of delight.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she said.

  “All these places are pretty,” Sir Jason informed her. “If they weren’t pretty, nobody’d ever live in em.”

  “You mean”—Natalie was much surprised—“you don’t like it?”

  “Light—space—air. That’s what I like,” said Sir Jason. “That’s what William likes, too.”

  Natalie walked slowly from room to room. There was not much space, it was true—the rooms were small and the ceilings low, but she thought that if she chose small furniture and had little of it—

  “Got to breathe,” said Sir Jason. “William likes to breathe. Can’t breathe in a box like this. And can’t turn round—William needs somewhere to turn round in. Try swinging a cat in here, and what?”

  “In a small place,” said Natalie timidly, “there’s less work—”

  “Fallacy,” said Sir Jason. “More space, less litter. You’d have William falling over litter. Rooms choked up. Nowhere for anything.”

  “Perhaps it would be a little cramped,” admitted Natalie reluctantly. “We—”

  “Nowhere to put people,” said Sir Jason. “Can’t put guests into boxes. William’s friends, your friends, that daughter of yours—”

  Natalie’s face paled. If Helen couldn’t come for long, pleasant visits and be comfortable—

  “Insects,” proceeded Sir Jason. “Rats and so on. Thatch.”

  Natalie looked at him doubtfully. Perhaps this was hardly the place to appeal to William.

  “I like it,” she said, “but perhaps the other one would—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Sir Jason. “Come along.”

  He hurried her out of the house and drove off rapidly, and soon the second cottage was reached. They entered and Natalie looked round hopefully. The roof was tiled, the rooms were not small and the place seemed qualified to win Sir Jason’s approval. She found, however, that her father-in-law was looking far from happy. “Do you like this one?” she asked.

  “Nothing to do with me,” replied Sir Jason. “Entirely your affair. Told William I wouldn’t influence you. Got to make up your own mind.”

  Natalie went upstairs and discovered a neat little bathroom, two good bedrooms and two smaller ones. From the window of one of these she looked out into the garden and saw the bird bath mentioned by her mother-in-law, though there seemed nothing odd about it except the fact that it was broken into two pieces.

  She came downstairs and told her father-in-law that, as far as she could see, the house would do very well. Sir Jason’s expression became gloomy.

  “Big man, William,” he pointed out. “All these beams.”

  “They’re very—they’re rather picturesque,” faltered Natalie. “And,” she found courage to add, “these floors would polish so beautifully and—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Sir Jason. “Came to visit the last tenants and she’d got ’em like glass and her poor devil of
a husband spent all his time sliding across the floor and sitting on his—sitting down. Big man, too.”

  “With thick rugs,” pleaded Natalie.

  “Paltry little windows,” went on Sir Jason. “No end of work. Silly little window panes, all nooks and crannies and dust traps.”

  “There wouldn’t be—”

  “Dark kitchen,” said Sir Jason. “Want light and air in your kitchen. Healthy.”

  “But—”

  “Badly situated, the house,” said Sir Jason. “Too low. Catch all the damp in winter. William’s lungs. Woman I know got her husband into a shocking house—damp as be—damp. Poor chap ended up a wreck— cold after cold, cough after cough. Can’t stand too much of that sort of thing. Feared for William’s lungs once, when he was a little shaver. Risk.”

  “Is it—is it really damp?” faltered Natalie. “I—”

  “Silly little bedrooms,” said Sir Jason. “Fellow needs space—especially sailors. Open sea, unlimited space, wide horizons. Get used to it.”

  “But their cabins—”

  “Must make a fellow comfortable in his own home,” said Sir Jason. “Place this size with fireplaces big enough for castles—”

  “I like big fireplaces,” said Natalie, “and—”

  “Draughts,” said Sir Jason. “Whistling. No man wants to sit in a room with draughts whistling. Find him going out every night like that other poor devil to get warm in the pub.”

  “There’s always something wrong with houses,” said Natalie. “I mean, they can’t be perfect. One has to—”

  “I’ll show you another one,” said Sir Jason. “You come with me and I’ll show you one that William’d settle into as snug as you please. Come along.”

  He turned and led the way out, forgetting in his eagerness that the beams were, as he had himself pointed out, rather low. His head hit the wood with a resounding thud and the next moment Natalie was listening to a stream of curses so steady, so fluent and so rich that they brought the absent William poignantly to her mind. It might almost, she thought with a sudden stab of longing, have been William himself. Tears sprang to her eyes and Sir Jason, turning towards her with one hand holding the bump on his brow, looked a little shamefaced.

  “Hit my bally head,” he apologized.

  “I—I didn’t mind,” said Natalie, drying her eyes. “I mean, I’m sorry you hurt yourself, but you—you reminded me of William—”

  Unable to trace any connection between his son and a bump on the head, Sir Jason hurried his daughter-in-law out of the house and in the direction of Dummerton. He drove through the village street and drew up at a building which Natalie had no difficulty in recognizing. Jeremy and her mother-in-law had described the place, she found, with a fair degree of accuracy.

  The house stood on the road, its front door three steps above the pavement. Ugly and shapeless, it was painted a particularly unpleasing shade of yellow, with windows outlined in an even less pleasant shade of green. On one side stood a little row of white-washed cottages while on the other was the empty space on which the original house had stood, now hidden by a high wall from the gaze of passers by. Beyond the wall came another line of cottages, looking as though they had been shouldered aside by the yellow intruder.

  Natalie sat in the trap, scarcely seeing Sir Jason’s hand outstretched to help her to alight. She had no words in which to tell him that she had seen enough and more than enough of this horror. Sir Jason waved his hand irritably.

  “No use sitting outside,” he said. “People have to live inside. I’ll take you in.”

  “It’s ugly,” said Natalie, “and—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Sir Jason. “But you must look at it. Your decision entirely. You see it and say yes or no. Come along.”

  Natalie went up the three steps and Sir Jason, leading her into the hall, banged the door firmly upon the four small boys who had hoped to join in the sight-seeing. He turned to his daughter-in-law and, after a glance at her face, gave a grunt of satisfaction.

  “Told you so,” he remarked.

  Natalie did not hear him. She was absorbed in trying to understand the plan of this remarkable house.

  She was in a wide entrance hall. To left and right, with windows overlooking the street, were the rooms which in more orthodox houses were placed at the back. On the other side of the hall the house widened considerably, every room looking on to a large expanse of garden which had been enlarged by the addition of the site on which the burnt house had stood. Natalie walked through rooms opening into one another and saw that they were spacious, well decorated and sunny. She went upstairs and this time Sir Jason followed her, his hands held behind his back and his expression unreadable.

  “Bathrooms,” he said. “Two. Big and small. Linen cupboard. Dressing-room for William. Space, lovely view. Street at back of you—can’t see it. Good drains —William likes good drains. Air. Air and light. Good kitchen, built-in cupboards. Long drawing-room, three windows into garden. Hatch into kitchen from dining room. Cloakroom downstairs—must have. Roomy house, not rambling. Compact. Good garden, room for vegetables. Fine fruit trees. All good order. All suit you very well.”

  It was all true. If only the outside—

  “Paint the outside white,” came Sir Jason’s voice. “Can’t alter shape, but won’t look bad when it’s white.” Natalie walked downstairs slowly and, having been through every room a great many more times, stood in the middle of the hall and looked at her father-in-law. “I didn’t expect to like it,” she said slowly, “but I think it’s—I don’t think I ever saw a house that—”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” said Sir Jason. “You like it?”

  “I think it’s lovely,” said Natalie.

  Sir Jason took out his watch and glanced at it. “Better go now,” he said. “See old Mrs. Batch some other time. She says she’ll give you a hand once or twice a week and her granddaughter’ll come in daily. Good girl, she says, and splendid cook. You won’t need two women falling over ’emselves in that kitchen, and they’d quarrel, too. Come along now. Very sensible choice. Tell William I said so. Tell him you’ll do very well here. Don’t worry about the garden—I’ll see to that.”

  They went homewards, and both were well content. Natalie was happier than she had been since William had gone away. She would soon be settled, he would soon be back, they would soon be together. It was wonderful to have got a house so exactly suited to their needs.

  Sir Jason, by her side, was silent, but on his face was a smile of deep satisfaction. It is possible that he had heard about the lady of Riga

  Chapter 7

  Natalie half expected reproaches from Lady Rome and expressions of lazy scorn from Jeremy on her choice of a home, but she found that they listened with interest to her shyly expressed approval of the house’s interior, congratulated her on having got something so much to her taste, and thought no more of the matter.

  She was becoming used to this family habit of complete and unshakable serenity. Stones fell into the placid pool of the Rome routine, made scarcely a splash, and sank. Natalie was grateful for this state of calm acceptance, but admitted that in a case like Duncan Macdonald’s it might have great drawbacks.

  Duncan was accepted as one of the family. His aim, however, was to subtract from the family total and not to add to it, and he strove to make this fact clear to all. But it proved an almost impossible task. Lucille slipped away from him with gentle regret and went riding with Philip. Sir Jason, to whom he applied for permission to woo his granddaughter, said “Yes, yes, yes” and begged Duncan to take the matter to Lady Rome who, said Sir Jason, always saw to all that kind of thing. Lady Rome waved a trowel, settled her hat more firmly, told him that Lucille was a silly little thing and added that old Mrs. Batch, in spite of her seventy odd years, was going to be of more use to Natalie in the little house than a whole army of housemaids.

  Jeremy was sympathetic, but unhelpful. He was in possession of his car once more and was making frequent trips
both to his own future home and to Natalie’s. The latter accompanied him on many of the journeys and, if Lucille was nowhere to be found, Duncan went too, though Jeremy’s car—an open two-seater now painted an arresting blue—afforded little comfort for a third passenger.

  They returned one showery afternoon to find an expensive-looking coupé parked outside the house. Jeremy told his companions that it was owned by Philip’s mother, Mrs. Bellamy, and advised them to make a detour and enter the house by a remote and secret entrance. Their way was barred, however, by Lady Rome, who, clad in a nautical mackintosh and sou’wester, came from the direction of the gardens and greeted them with an air of relief.

  “There you are, my dear Natalie,” she called, her voice muted to a menacing rumble. “I was hoping so much that you’d be back before long, because she hasn’t come to see me and I don’t really want to see her because she’s such a tiresome woman and keeps me talking. You’re quite damp, my dear. Jeremy, how can you take anybody out in that dreadful little thing without any protection?”

  “Protection? There’s a good hood there,” replied Jeremy, “if I cared to put it up.”