The Victory (38 page)

The visit was duly paid, and it was the purest coincidence that Mary Ann had just had delivered a new and very becom
ing morning-gown, which, in justice to the mantuamaker,
demanded an early call by the hairdresser. Rathbone entered, so tall he seemed to darken the doorway, his sallow, hawkish
face drawing her eyes like a moth to a candle-flame. He
bowed over her hand, and she wished she might control the
most improper colour in her cheeks.

‘
I hope I find you well, ma'am?' he said. His dark eyes
surveyed her face for a moment and then he smiled, his teeth very white and rather savage-looking. If Mary Ann had been
a novel-reader, the words 'corsair' or 'pirate' might have sprung to her mind. 'But I do not need to ask,' he added,
taking the seat she offered. 'I can see you are in excellent
health, as blooming as a rose.’

It was not the sort of comment she expected from a gentle
man of slight acquaintance, but she supposed that he
presumed upon his cloth, which, of course, made him not
really count as a man at all. 'I understood you have been in
Ireland?' she managed to say.

‘
I have indeed, and a terrible state things are in over there.
Not that it's so quiet this side of the water! I've never seen so
many musters and drills going on, on every village green I
pass. So the French are really coming at last, are they?’

Mary Ann looked puzzled. 'I don't know,' she said. 'I do
not read the newspapers very often.'

‘
Of course, you have other things on your mind,' he said,
grinning at her. 'And more proper concerns for a lady, too,
I'm sure, like hats and French gloves' — his eye flickered over
her much too knowingly — 'and a very becoming gown,
whose colour complements the eyes to perfection. And with
those very finely stroked gathers on the sleeve, I can say with
confidence that you have had the good taste to call upon the
services of Madame Renée.’

Mary Ann hardly knew where to look. 'Oh, how can you be
so —'

‘
So strange? But I am a priest, my dear Mrs Morland, and must not be judged by common standards. Besides, Madame
Renée and I are old, old friends, she being from the same part
of Dublin as myself.'

‘I thought she was French,' Mary Ann said foolishly.

‘
Everybody in Dublin is half French at least,' he answered
with a smile. 'French is our second language, which of course is what makes the English so suspicious of us, and rightly so!
We're a treacherous people, not to be trusted.'

‘Oh, but you, I'm sure, can be trusted!' Mary Ann cried, and then wished she hadn't, for the opening it gave him.

But Rathbone only gave her a small, satisfied smile, and
said, 'Well, if it isn't your pretty gown you have been thinking of, pray tell me what has been occupying you to the exclusion
of Boney's Grand Design?’

Seeking for a subject that would interest him, Mary Ann
said, 'I have received from Mr Ferriar a copy of his report on
the mill-workers' houses.’

Rathbone's face at once became grim. ‘So, you've read
that, have you? I have wronged you, Mrs Morland, and I
apologise.'

‘
My father would not think it an insult for you to consider
me entirely frivolous,' Mary Ann said. 'I'm afraid he took the
report away from me and destroyed it. He did not think it a
proper concern of mine.'

‘
I tell you, it will be everyone's concern when we have
another outbreak of fever,' said Rathbone harshly. 'You
remember how they panicked when it happened in '96?'

‘
I wasn't here then,' she said. ‘Do you really think it is
likely?'

‘
I do. I've seen the same sort of thing in India and Turkey
and North Africa, and for the same reasons — overcrowding,
open sewers, poor ventilation, and no washing water. Where these conditions subsist, the evil humours collect, and breed
fever. Mrs Morland' — he sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees and fixing her with his burning eyes —
'may I ask for your help in bringing this state of affairs to the notice of those who can do something to remedy it? A woman
of your standing could do much to influence thought.’

Mary Ann felt a little faint under such a penetrating gaze.
‘You may count on me for anything of which I am capable,
but —’

‘But your father would not approve.'

‘
I am a married woman. I am not in my father's gover
nance.'

‘
Spoken like a woman of spirit,' he smiled. 'And now, I see
I have exceeded the polite quarter-hour of convention, and
had better take my leave lest I offend propriety.’

You have been doing that all along, Mary Ann thought, but
rose and rang the bell without comment. She held out her
hand automatically, and Rathbone, towering over her, took it
and held it, looking down at her in a way that would have
struck Mr Adubon with deepest envy.

‘
Goodbye, Mrs Morland,' he said. She heard the servant
open the door behind him, but still he held her hand.

‘
Goodbye,' she said faintly, and then, remembering, 'Oh,
but I have a letter for you from Father Aislaby. It quite
slipped my mind.'

‘
Keep it for me,' he said. 'It will give me an excuse to call
again.’

She wanted to say, you need no excuse, but aware of the
listening servant, she drew back her hand firmly, and said
formally, 'It was kind of you to call, Father.' And as if he
perfectly understood all she had been thinking, he only smiled
and left her.

*

Edward and Chetwyn strolled arm in arm along the Long
Walk, kept under observation by two of the swans drifting on
the moat with the utmost casualness, as if they just happened
to be going the same way. A magnificent full moon rode high
in a clear sky, pouring down such intense light that one
almost expected it to burn, like sunlight. The moat, where it
turned the corner of the house, was a sheet of beaten silver,
but close to, the water was striped black and silver like birch-
bark, broken into ripples by the strong movements of the
swans' black webs.

Around this side of the house all was peace, with no
indication of the revels that were going on within, the silence
broken only by the small noises of night. Chetwyn was
smoking a cigar, and its fragrance mingled with the warm
night smell of damp earth and grass, and the flat, weedy
dankness of the moat.

‘
How many times have we done this, do you think?
Escaped from a ball to walk and talk on our own?' Chetwyn
said at last.

‘We haven't been doing much talking,' Edward observed.

‘
I was just enjoying the quiet after all that noise in the
saloon. What strange things people enjoy — being crushed
together in a hot, noisy room, when they might have all this.’

The glowing end of the cigar made a red circle in the air as he
gestered towards the gardens.

‘
If they were all out here, it wouldn't be peaceful,' Edward
pointed out. 'Just be thankful not everyone likes the same
things.'

‘
You should be fully occupied with being thankful that
Lucy's staying here, so that you can have all your entertain
ments here instead of at Shawes.’

Edward smiled. 'I do seem to enjoy them so much, don't I?
Wouldn't miss a moment of them.’

Chetwyn laughed and pressed his arm. had to drag you
away.'

‘It is going well, though, isn't it?'

‘
And you have such a lot to celebrate: the stables finished,
and a good harvest of corn safely on its way to the Navy yard!
You were right to try for that contract, old fellow. In a year or
two, you will be wealthier than me.'

‘
I don't think so,' Edward said ruefully. 'Any profit I
manage to make from the corn, Jamie will find a use for in his
building schemes. But at least I have the satisfaction of
knowing that I'm helping to keep the navy afloat.'

‘
You were moved, I'm sure, solely by patriotic motives
when you ploughed up your pastures,' Chetwyn agreed
solemnly. am almost persuaded to do the same. If only my
patriotism were stronger than my sloth.’

Edward laughed. 'I am so glad you're here, Chet! It seems
so long since we had any time together.'

‘Demands of your growing wealth and my growing family,' Chetwyn said.

Edward looked away towards the moat, where the pen had
paused by the bank to smatter the weed with her bill after
some fragment of food. 'Is that really all it was?' he asked
casually. 'Just being too busy?’

Chetwyn stopped and turned, holding Ned's arms just
above the elbow to look into his face. Chetwyn's face was
partly shadowed by the moon behind his back, but his voice,
to Edward, sounded warm and amused. 'Of course it was, my dear. What else? Out with it, Ned, what have you been worry
ing about?'

‘Nothing. Nothing at all,' he said feebly. Chetwyn waited
insistently. 'I only wondered if, perhaps — if everything was
all right between us?' he finished hesitantly.

Chetwyn laughed, and turned to resume their stroll,
drawing Edward's arm through his again. 'What could possibly
change?' he said. 'We have been friends almost all our lives,
haven't we?'

‘Yes,' Edward said. 'It's silly of me to think —'

‘It is,' Chetwyn said firmly.

‘
Only you have seemed different recently. I mean, for
instance, you never used to care about your children like this —'

‘
They weren't very interesting before. Now they're growing
up. You don't see them as rivals for my affection, do you? That would be very silly indeed. They're your own nephew
and nieces. I want to share them with you. Roland, for
instance — don't you think it's time we taught him some of
the refinements of horsemanship?'

‘
What, you and I?' Edward asked, pleased. ‘Won't Lucy
mind?'

‘Just us,' Chetwyn smiled. ‘Lucy's far too worried about
international affairs to have time for such purely domestic
matters. The trouble is, what could we teach him on? His legs
are too short for any of the horses. I suppose we might borrow Fanny's pony, though.’

Edward laughed. 'That is the silliest thing either of us has
said tonight.’