The Hireling (19 page)

‘Oh, good evening, sir,’ said the butler, with every kind of emphasis in his voice. ‘Her ladyship is just coming down,’

He ushered Hughie in and Leadbitter returned to stand beside the car. Facing a firing squad the condemned man has the option of being blindfolded. Leadbitter didn’t take this precaution but, to delay the moment of recognition, he pulled his cap down over his eyes. He tried to make his mind a blank, and when that failed, to relieve it by thinking of a sunny day at the sea-side - a mental amulet he sometimes used in times of stress.

So he was in Ramsgate when voices sounded from the doorway.

Lady Franklin and Hughie were coming down the steps. In her eagerness to talk to him she had turned round and was looking up into his face; when he moved his head her eyes followed his. Leadbitter was half out of the car by this time; he hurried round the bonnet and opened the door, standing beside it with a wooden face and looking his own height, as a soldier should. Although he was a head taller than Lady Franklin he could see her face and the change that came over it as it jerked up towards his before she bent her head to enter the car.

Leadbitter felt sick with anti-climax, yet what, he asked himself, had he expected? That she would make some kind of demonstration, some violent show of feeling, either way? Was he so mean a creature that she had forgotten him already? ‘Where to, sir?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I think the Oarsman’s Arms at Richmond, it’s not a bad place as they go, what do you think, Ernestine?’ said Hughie in a voice that alternated between too little and too much self-confidence.

‘I’ve never been there, but I’m sure I should like it,’ Lady Franklin answered.

The other one liked it all right, thought Leadbitter, but he might have had more originality than to take this one there. Still it’s all the same, her money pays for both.

‘I hope you’ll be comfortable in this car,’ Hughie went on, ‘I could have got a bigger one, of course, but this does very well for two. And he’s a first-rate driver - I’d trust him anywhere,’ Leadbitter’s neck reddened.

‘He seems a careful driver,’ Lady Franklin said, and said no more.

‘Darling, you’re rather silent,’ Hughie rallied her. ‘Nothing gone wrong, I hope? You did want to come out, didn’t you? If not, I’ll tell him to turn round, and we’ll go back to your place. Dear Mrs Darrell would scratch up something for us, I’m sure. I’ll break it to her, if you’ll let me. She has rather a soft spot for me, you know,’

‘Oh no,’ said Lady Franklin. ‘It’s just … it’s just that I am so happy. This is the first time I’ve been out with you,’

‘I know,’ said Hughie contritely. ‘And it oughtn’t to have been the first time, ought it? I did want to ask you before, but I couldn’t get the car,’

Couldn’t get the car? thought Leadbitter. You never tried.

‘I love going out,’ said Lady Franklin, ‘and it’s so romantic and exciting, going to Richmond. Why have I never been before? I expect you often go - to paint, perhaps,’

‘Oh yes,’ said Hughie, ‘I have, by bus, you know. It’s more fun like that, in a way. You see so many amusing types of people. But as this was a special occasion - Do you ever go by bus?’

‘My dear, of course I do,’

I can’t see you, somehow. I’ve thought of you in every possible situation, Ernestine, but never in a bus,’

‘Oh, but I love buses. The conductors and conductresses are so nice to one. I like being called “dearie” and “ducks”, don’t you?’

‘Would you like it if I did?’

‘Yes, of course,’

‘Well, ducks - no, it doesn’t sound right, it’s not you, somehow. I see I shall always have to treat you with respect,’

‘Dearest, I couldn’t bear it if you did. Cotton-wool isn’t good for me. I like being ordered about. Everyone is ordered about now, aren’t they? Why should one want to be different? I wasn’t happy when I was different. You wouldn’t say I was different now, would you?’

‘No, dearie, absolutely indistinguishable,’

‘I’m so glad. But I should like you to be different,’

‘Why?’

‘Because men should be different, and painters must be. I want you to be a very great painter,’

‘Oh, Ernestine,’

‘I shall give you no peace until you are,’

‘Perhaps I am already,’

‘You are, in my eyes. But I want you to be recognized by everybody.’

‘Dearie, you have such large ideas,’ said Hughie.

‘But why not? With your talent and my - I mean, you could be my monument.’

‘Why do you want a monument?’

‘Well, to exist outside myself and in you. That’s possible for a woman, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I think so,’

‘It wouldn’t be unless I believed in you. But I do, absolutely,’

‘As a painter,’ Hughie asked, ‘or as a man?’

‘As both. I couldn’t partially believe in you - what fun would that be?’

‘It might not be such fun,’ said Hughie, ‘but it might be more realistic,’

‘Oh darling, what discouraging things you say,’

‘I don’t want you to expect too much of me,’

‘But that’s what you’re for - to be a beacon for my hopes,’

‘And what are you for?’

‘I’m just an incense-burner,’

Hughie laughed.

‘Well, I am rather High Church,’

‘But I shall be practical, too,’ said Lady Franklin. ‘We’ll give tremendous parties,’

‘How can I paint at parties?’

‘In between you can. And have exhibitions,’

‘You mean us to lead a very public life,’ said Hughie.

‘Oh, darling, no, we’ll have our private life, that goes without saying. I long for it more than anything. Only you must teach it to me. I’m still a little afraid of private life -I’ve had too much of it,’

Too much of being by yourself, you mean,’

‘Yes, I suppose so. That’s why I have this passion for sharing things. There’s nothing one wants to possess in love except an increase in the power of loving, is there? I want to share everything.’

‘Even me?’ asked Hughie.

What’s she going to say now? thought Leadbitter, when Lady Franklin didn’t answer at once.

‘Your work,’ she said, ‘of course, with all the world. But you, my darling? I hadn’t thought of it,’

‘I was only putting a hypothetical case,’ said Hughie, ‘just to try out your sharing theory,’

‘Yes, I know, I know. But somehow I still can’t picture it. It isn’t real to me. Share you? No, I couldn’t,’

‘Not even your thoughts of me?’

‘Those least of all. How should I divide them, without dividing myself? I was divided once; you brought me together, the two me’s…. At least -‘ she stopped.

‘I scent a reservation there,’ said Hughie. ‘What was, who was, this other integrating agent? Out with it, Ernestine,’ All at once Lady Franklin became extremely agitated. ‘Haven’t I told you - didn’t I tell you? I thought I did. It was a gradual process to begin with - then the shock -‘

‘Oh yes, I remember the shock, the famous shock. What exactly was it? I feel I have a right to know. You ought to have no secrets from me now,’

‘It was something - something that happened,’ ‘Well, of course it happened - at least I suppose it happened - but what was it?’

‘I told you - a shock, a slight shock, a very slight shock,’

‘A shocking shock?’

‘Yes … no… Some time I’ll tell you,’

‘I demand to know now. How can I marry a woman who has an undeclared shock on her conscience?’ The car swerved.

‘Oh, Hughie, please don’t tease me. It was nothing much,’

‘Well, what was the gradual process? At least you can tell me that,’

‘It was a sort of slow awakening, I suppose, from the unhappy trance I’d been in,’

‘You are being mysterious, Ernestine. I don’t think I ought to marry someone who confesses to having had a hidden process. It doesn’t sound quite nice,’

‘It was rather nice,’

‘Yes, I was afraid so. Are you thoroughly awakened now?’

‘Of course I am,’

‘Should I pinch you?’

‘Why?’

‘To see whether you’re awake or not,’

‘Couldn’t I pinch myself?’

‘Yes, if you’d rather,’

Lady Franklin seemed to consider.

‘I used to pinch myself when I was ill,’ she said. ‘It didn’t do much good,’

‘Well, then, let me try,’

‘I’m not sure I should like it,’

‘Not like being awake?’

‘Well, not too hard then,’

‘Was that too hard?’

Lady Franklin gave a little cry.

‘That’s what the doctor ordered,’

She didn’t sound as if she liked it, Leadbitter thought. She liked my way better. At any rate I didn’t hurt her. He drove on faster, his mind a whirl of contradictory feelings. … Bitterness, frustration, jealousy. But bitterness prevailed. It was like being in an earthquake - the roof of his life came off, the ceilings fell, the fabric tottered. Lady Franklin pinched like a common tart? Could disillusion go further than this? And how was he to drive them back? ‘My wife,’ he practised it to himself, ‘is ill, she’s very ill. It’s a woman’s complaint, and she’s taken a turn for the worse. Yes, I know she was all right an hour ago, but these things happen. I must go back. I’ll try to get you another car,’

Committing some such phrases to his memory, he drew up at the door of the hotel. ‘Oh, are we there?’

‘It looks as though we were,’ said Hughie. Leadbitter got out and opened the door, holding the handle as though it dirtied his fingers. Lady Franklin did not look at him, she stood a few feet away, waiting for Hughie to join her; then, her arm in his, they went towards the hotel. Half way up the steps she said to him:

‘Will you wait a moment? I’ve left something in the car,’

Tell me what it is, and I’ll fetch it,’

‘No, I’ll go,’

She did not find the car at once. Leadbitter had driven away to park it with the others, of which there were a number. In the twilight they all looked alike. Then she saw his tall figure bending over it, locking it.

‘Steve,’ she said. She didn’t think she could say it, but out it came.

He straightened himself but didn’t come towards her, so she went up to him and held her hand out.

‘Steve,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry,’

‘For what, my lady?’ he asked forbiddingly, taking her hand and dropping it.

‘For everything. You were a good friend to me,’

‘My lady -‘ he began.

‘No, don’t say anything. I understand now, if I didn’t then, and I hope you do,’

‘But do you understand?’ asked Leadbitter, in his harsh voice.

‘Do I understand -?’ repeated Lady Franklin.

‘Yes, my lady. Do you understand why I -‘ His utterance nearly strangled him, it was so urgent. Making a great effort he finished the sentence. ‘Why I did what I did,’

She didn’t answer, but looked up at him with her mouth slightly open.

‘It was because … It was because … I -‘ ‘love you’, he would have said, but this time the words stuck.

‘No, please don’t tell me,’ Lady Franklin said, distressed by his distress. ‘Let me tell you.’ It was because you are the kindest-hearted man imaginable,’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ said Leadbitter. ‘I’m not all that kind-hearted. It was because -‘ Again he stopped, and his face had the strained look of a stammerer’s when he tries to get the words out.

‘If it’s something you don’t want to say,’ said Lady Franklin earnestly, and mistaking - as well she might - the nature of Leadbitter’s confession, ‘please don’t say it. You’ll only regret it if you do. I know you meant to help me, and I don’t want to know anything more. We’re none of us perfect, I know I’m not, and if what you saw just now -‘

‘I saw nothing, my lady,’

‘- If it hurt and … and displeased you, I am truly sorry. But there’s one thing I’m not sorry about,’

‘What is it?’

‘That we met again. … Now, I’ve left something in the car: what can it be?’

Leadbitter opened the door, and turned the light on. His eyes searched the back seat; his hands groped among the cushions.

‘There’s nothing here, my lady,’

‘Oh, but there must be. I said there was,’

She had a superstitious wish to have her word confirmed by the event.

‘I must have left something,’ she muttered. ‘I told him I had, and oddly enough, I felt I had left something. Could you give me something? I’ll give it back to you.’

He looked down at her helplessly.

‘What can I give you?’

‘Oh, give me a shilling,’

He felt in his pocket and handed her the coin.

‘Thank you so much. If I forget, remind me. And oh, your wife - how is she?’

‘Better today, my lady,’

‘Oh, has she been ill?’

‘She goes up and down,’

‘And the children?’

‘They’re fine,’

‘And business?’

‘Just ticking over. Mustn’t grumble,’

‘I’m glad. I’m glad that things are going well. I always hope they will, but sometimes they don’t, where I’m concerned - I don’t mean only for me. But now they are going well for me, too,’

Lady Franklin waited for Leadbitter to make a comment, and when he didn’t, she said:

‘Will you congratulate me? I’m engaged to be married. I’m so happy,’

A strange look of intensity came into his face; his features faded from it, it was all expression. But still he said nothing.

‘I’m so happy,’ Lady Franklin repeated. ‘Won’t you wish me luck?’

‘I wish you luck, my lady,’ Leadbetter said, and try as he would he couldn’t keep an ironical inflexion out of his voice. ‘Yes, I wish you luck,’

‘You sound as if you thought that I might need it!’ Lady Franklin exclaimed, delighted but incredulous. ‘But I assure you, Steve, I don’t. I’m just going into the world, it’s my new debut, my second coming-out! I don’t mean the world of parties and so on,’ she added hastily, ‘but the real world of normal feelings and experiences that you have known so long - indeed I lived in your world before I began to live in mine. Yours was my stepping-stone, my half-way house! From you I learnt’ - she hesitated - ‘oh, so many things! That I could be real to someone else was one. I’m real to him, I know I am, and he is real to me. Perhaps it is what one wants - to be real to somebody! How strange that you should have been driving him I Don’t you think he’s charming?’

‘I’ve only driven him once or twice before,’ said Leadbitter.