Elders and Betters (10 page)

“I believe in the equality of all men,” said Reuben, glancing at Jessica.

“Need we give so much thought to our own opinions?” said the latter. “It is better to look outside ourselves for our interests.”

“But then we could not have any,” said her son.

“Oh, most of us cast an eye in our own direction sometimes,” said Anna. “And I should not have thought Aunt Jessica was an exception.”

“She looks less at herself than inside herself,” said Thomas.

A cloud came over his wife's face.

“She is introspective, is she?” said Anna.

“Never become so, my dear,” said Jessica. “It is selfish and useless, and becomes a habit. And what is there of importance inside oneself?”

“Not much that would look too well, if it were brought outside,” said Esmond.

“You can know no mind but your own,” said his father. “So we take your words to apply to that.”

“Why think of anyone then?” said Anna. “If no one is important, why not forget the human race? All our thoughts and emotions go on inside ourselves.”

“It would be nice to meet people who thought of
things,
for a change,” said Claribel.

“We do meet them,” said Terence. “They read the
papers and talk as if they had found everything out. It is dreadful to have a masculine mind.”

“Claribel was feeling that she had one,” said Bernard. “And I think I should like to feel the same.”

“Are you so different from such people?” said Anna to Terence.

“Yes, I love personalities and the difficulties of my friends.”

“That sounds an amiable characteristic.”

“It is a sign of affection,” said Terence. “Indeed it is a proof of it. We are quite sorry about the misfortunes of strangers.”

“But does it show that you have a feminine mind?”

“Well, I also love scandal. Or I should, if the very word did not suggest that it might not be true. Of course the whole point of people's mistakes is that we should be able to depend on them.”

“Mere mistakes do not give much ground for scandal.”

“I never use a harder word than mistakes,” said Terence.

“That is the charm of women, that they are so good at such things,” said Bernard. “I wish I could spend all my time with them. I wish I did not have to work.”

“Hush, don't say it out loud,” said Terence. “I shall have to too, and I am so afraid people will discover it. They are beginning to suspect.”

“Is that an allusion to Cook and Ethel?” said Anna, in a rather loud tone to her brother. “Your giving your time to them is a true enough touch.”

“I wish they did not have to work either,” said Bernard. “Our difficulties seem so much the same.”

“What would they do, if they didn't?” said Anna.

“They would talk and have tea and read books with paper covers. I should do some of those things myself. How I should like it for them! As it is, thinking of Cook makes me want to cry.”

“Ethel seems to me the heroic figure, if you must find one.”

“Ethel makes me feel inspired.”

“Ethel is a thoroughly nice woman,” said Jenney.

“We are not the only people who have servants,” said Esmond. “We shall not hear as much about Aunt Jessica's half-dozen in a month, as we do about our couple in a day.”

“Aunt Jessica's four,” said Anna; “and one of those is Aunt Sukey's attendant.”

“My wife has the gift of winning their hearts,” said Thomas.

“But why does that mean that we do not hear about them?” said Bernard. “You would think we should hear more.”

“Of course we should not,” said Terence. “You should think before you speak.”

“They are always good and kind to me,” said Jessica.

“I believe I am Aunt Jessica's true nephew,” said Bernard. “I am sure no one else is. I wish she would say that Esmond is not.”

“And I am her true son,” said Terence. “She has no other true relations.”

“Have we produced a pair of kindred spirits?” said Jessica, smiling at her brother and looking at their eldest sons.

Benjamin nodded in understanding, but at once withdrew his glance, lest his children should see it; a needless precaution, as his sons kept their eyes from his face, and his daughter did not think to turn hers towards it.

“Perhaps Esmond has some attention to spare for his other aunt,” said Sukey.

“They are all giving you enough,” said Claribel. “They have no eyes for anyone else. I should feel most flattered, if Esmond bestowed half the amount on me.”

Her nephew gave every sign that he bestowed none on her at all.

Miss Lacy returned to the house with her pupils, and paused by the group in privileged interest.

“What is the matter in hand?” she said.

“That I am Aunt Jessica's especial nephew,” said Bernard.

“And I come second,” said Reuben, loudly.

“Your aunt loves you all alike, of course,” said Miss Lacy.

“Can anyone really love a nephew, when she loves her son as much as Mother does Terence?” said Dora.

“Mother is different from other people,” said Thomas.

Jessica's face darkened, as if she could give her own meaning to the words. Her eyes rested on Dora in new and troubled knowledge. The child saw Terence as better loved than herself, and saw it with unconcern. Jessica had thought that feelings that were not revealed, were unbetrayed, and had not reflected that she was unlikely to give voice to them. She often fell into the pitfalls of her path; the very straightforwardness of her nature caused it; the common precautions and contrivances were not for her.

“Perhaps one aunt will have some feeling over for the niece,” said Anna.

“Let me be that one,” said Sukey, making room at her side. “You and I must support each other. We are not used to being left out in the cold.”

“I believe I am pretty well accustomed to it,” said Anna, as she took the seat. “I am the person who has to control and contrive. And that does relegate one to a chilly place.”

“You are young to be at the head of things,” said Sukey.

“I am not young now in any sense, but I was, when I came from school to the place at the helm. And that made me lay an indifferent foundation. And then there was no living it down.”

“We must help each other,” said Sukey. “I may not have lived too wisely myself. I often see signs of weariness of me and my ways.”

Jessica observed the pair, in relief that Sukey should find this companionship. She had not thought of a bond between her sister and her niece, but welcomed it as an advantage and solution. Sukey needed service and support
beyond what could be accorded in her sister's home, and Jessica unconsciously assumed that such things would come as a due from Anna's level to Sukey's. That Anna might expect return for what she gave, did not enter her thoughts. Such things did not strike people with regard to Anna.

“Are you having luncheon with us to-day, Miss Lacy?” said Jessica. “Is it a day when you are here in the afternoon?”

“It is such a day, but I am going home,” said Miss Lacy, in calm decision of her course. “The children have obtained your leave for a holiday, and I do not superintend their leisure. They do not need to be taught to play.”

“I do not remember giving them the holiday,” said Jessica, wrinkling her forehead. “They take advantage of my absence of mind, and hold me to what I am betrayed into saying. Now isn't this another case of it, children?”

“Yes,” said Julius, with a shamefaced grin.

“Yes,” said Dora, pushing a stick about on the floor, and suddenly sending a flash of honest eyes across her mother's face. “We knew you didn't know you said it.”

Jessica accepted acknowledgment as an atonement, and also accepted the uncertainty of her brain, an unfair effort, as it had not been at fault.

“Do you notice the difference in the ranks of our young people, Miss Lacy?” said Thomas.

“Is not there an increase in them?” said Miss Lacy, looking round with an air of finding this dawn upon her. “Yes, a perceptible increase.”

“You have not forgotten me,” said Bernard. “No one has ever done that. I make a simple impression, but it is my own.”

“Is it the voice of Bernard?” said Miss Lacy.

“You remember Bernard and Anna, who used to visit your schoolroom when Terence and Tullia were there.”

“Then how do you do, Bernard and Anna?” said Miss Lacy, shaking hands and using Christian names as her
natural prerogative. “I am glad to see you again, and I hope you will remember my schoolroom with Tullia's successors.”

“We can't expect you to remember Reuben and Esmond,” said Anna.

“How do you do, Reuben and Esmond?” said Miss Lacy, shaking hands in order of age, but using the names in Anna's order, as if she had no aid from her memory. “What very handsome names! I feel as if a book had come true.”

“You knew that Reuben was the youngest,” said Dora. “Because you said you were glad his leg was better.”

“Am I not doing myself justice?” said Miss Lacy, with some amusement. “And I thought I was making a creditable effort. It was certainly a sincere one. How do you do, Esmond and Reuben? Bernard, Anna, Esmond and Reuben. Or does Anna come first?”

“No, Bernard is the eldest,” said Anna. “But people often assume that I am the first, as I take the lead in things. The sister has to do that.”

“I should not have assumed it,” said Miss Lacy, turning her eyes from face to face. “I should have said that you were the second. But I am inclined to sympathise with people; I was getting unsure of myself. Bernard, Anna, Esmond and Reuben.”

“Oh, Bernard and Anna are ordinary names enough. And the others are not as out-of-the-way as all that.”

“Anna is a good name, my dear,” said Miss Lacy, in a kindly, if absent tone, as she turned to Jessica. “I suppose they do not remember their mother?”

“Good gracious, yes,” Anna interposed. “I was eighteen when she died, old enough to be summoned home to steer the family course.”

“Poor child!” said Miss Lacy, passing her eyes over Reuben, as if to judge of the result of this guidance, and then dropping her voice to its sibilant note. “Poor children!”

“We have always had Miss Jennings with us,” said Bernard.

“Oh, Miss Jennings! I want to see Miss Jennings,” said Miss Lacy, her tone somehow implying that she made nothing of any distance between them. “I was great friends with Miss Jennings. And I want to ask her advice on a matter of my own, on a charge that is coming to me.”

“Are you expecting some fresh responsibility?” said Thomas.

“Yes, an orphan niece is to make her home with me,” said Miss Lacy, in the even tone of one who had found varied experience a part of life. “The daughter of my younger brother, a girl of twenty. Poor child, I hope I shall be able to make my house a home to her. And I am sure Miss Jennings is the person to advise me. How not to ask too much of her; how to ask enough, for that is important too; how to ask enough of myself, without asking too much. Well, it will all have to be decided, or rather it will all decide itself, and we shall be helpless about it.”

“Will she like to live just with a much older person?” said Dora.

“That is one of my problems, Dora,” said Miss Lacy, in a grave tone. “And you remind me that she may be expecting the older person's welcome. There is no need for me to fail there.”

Miss Lacy turned and went with mild haste down the drive, to be overtaken by Bernard and escorted to the gate.

“Miss Lacy has gone to the gate by herself for eighteen years,” said Terence, looking after them.

“Then she should be better versed in the problems of the latch than Bernard seems to be,” said Benjamin.

“Why do all gates have different fastenings?” said Anna. “A standard one might bring a fortune to somebody.”

“I suppose each one was to have been that one,” said Thomas.

“And I wonder it was not. Latches are so very clever,” said Terence.

“Why does not Miss Lacy help the clumsy boy?” said Benjamin, in open nervous distress. “God knows how long he will be.”

“He may know,” said Thomas, “but as we cannot, we will not concern ourselves with the matter.”

The children broke into the laughter caused by such jests in a household where they were forbidden, and Jessica lost no time in turning the subject.

“Now is everyone clean and tidy for luncheon? The bell will ring at any moment.”

“May we just run to our Chinese temple and back?” said Julius.

“Yes, if you do only that.”

The children ran out of the house.

“O great and good and powerful god, Chung,” prayed Dora, “forgive us, we beseech thee, the lie that has passed our lips. For we have uttered to thy handmaid, our governess, the thing that is false, yea and even to our mother. And this we did to gain respite from our daily task. And most humbly we implore thee not to visit our sin upon us. For Sung Li's sake, amen.”

“We couldn't have enjoyed our luncheon with that burden on us,” said Julius. “And as the relations are staying, it will be a good one. And Mother does not suspect.”

“I should think it is especially wicked to take advantage of her being absent-minded, when it is a sort of illness,” said Dora.

The pair met each other's eyes and in a moment were back at the rock.

“O great god, Chung, pardon any wickedness we showed in putting our mother's weakness to our wrongful purposes. For Sung Li's sake, amen.”

They walked away, talking of other things, and came straight to the table.

“It is nice to arrive just as we are being helped ourselves,” said Julius.

“Oh, is that why you came in late?” said Jessica.

“No, we didn't think of it,” said Dora, in the honest tone that served an honest statement as well as another.