III
There was only one letter by Miss Trant’s plate the following morning, but it was a very important letter indeed. It ran as follows:
My dear Elizabeth,
Did you know that your father owed me ¬£600? He did, and he gave instructions to Truby that it should be repaid out of his estate. But when Truby settled the debt, he also explained who would be losing the money. If it had been either your brother or sister‚ÅÝ‚Äîwho are both well off, or were when I last heard of them‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI should have taken it like a shot, but I have no intention of taking it from you, and so have returned the ¬£600 to Truby. Now don‚Äôt be silly about this. I have as much as I want, and I know what your position is. I feel sure you are sensible enough not to refuse the money. What are you going to do? Twenty years ago, or even ten, I should have advised you to come out here, but the East isn‚Äôt what it was, ruined by these damned silly student politics. If you can guarantee me something that remotely resembles a summer, I‚Äôll pay you a visit, but not before, for the last time I did nothing but shiver and wrap up.
She had read this once, in a rather dazed fashion, and was beginning again, when Hilary arrived, looking rather more Static than he had done the night before.
“That’s my great-uncle, is it, the tea-planter man?” he said, after she had told him the news. “I saw him once, when I was still at school. He looked like Mark Twain. You’ll take the money, of course?”
“I think so,” said Miss Trant, rather slowly and dubiously.
“Why shouldn’t you?” Hilary stared. “As a matter of fact, it’s yours, and anyhow you’ve jolly well earned it. You haven’t much money, have you?”
“No, I shall probably have about three hundred a year when I’ve let the Hall. By the way, some people are coming to look at it today. And I’ve about a thousand pounds over, from the sale.”
“Then you’ll have a spare sixteen hundred roughly, with this windfall.” Hilary delicately chipped at his egg, then looked across at her with raised eyebrows. “I suppose you wouldn’t like to put some money into The Static, would you?”
“I don’t think I would, Hilary,” she replied briskly.
‚ÄúNo,‚Äù he said, rather gloomily. ‚ÄúI thought you wouldn‚Äôt. It‚Äôs a pity, though, because you‚Äôd enjoy the thing so much‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI mean really being in it‚ÅÝ‚Äîand of course you would probably make something out of it. You didn‚Äôt mind my asking, did you?‚Äù
‚ÄúNot at all.‚Äù She smiled at him, and decided at once not to tell him the real reason why she had refused, which was that she was not going to encourage him to waste his time. ‚ÄúYou see, there may be a family row if you go on with this business‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
“Sure to be,” he put in calmly. “I haven’t written to India yet, but I told Aunt Hilda the other day and she was frightfully down on it. But then she would be, you know. She’s not like you. Her life’s one long orgy of emotionalism, don’t you think?”
“And you see,” Miss Trant continued, after an amused glance of the mind at her sister Hilda confronted by the Statics, “I don’t want to be mixed up in it, and I should be at once if I helped you.”
“Couldn’t you put the money in anonymously.”
“It would soon come out, I mean my part in it. You know how things do get about.” She herself did not know at all how such things got about, but it sounded convincing.
“Rather,” said Hilary, who knew even less. They looked at one another knowingly, and enjoyed themselves.
“I’ve got about a hundred that I can spare,” he said, after he had lit the first cigarette. “But I want about two hundred and fifty. I think I shall sell that two-seater of mine. It’s useless in town, anyhow. Only eats its head off. Do you know anybody here who wants a two-seater? It’s a Mercia, last year’s?”
“No, I don’t think I do,” she said slowly, staring at him.
“What’s the matter?”
She laughed. “Nothing. Shall we go out?” But she was still thinking about that two-seater.
He strolled over to the window. “What shall we do?”
“Anything you like. You’re not interested in gardens, are you?”
“Not in the least,” he replied heartily. “I don’t mind sitting in them on warm afternoons, but I simply can’t dig them up or talk about them or anything of that kind. We might run round in the car.”
“I should like that. But stop, we can’t go until I’ve shown those people the Hall. They’re coming some time today to look at it, and I promised to be here.”
“I think I shall stroll up there myself. I’ll have a look at the car, and then if those people come, I shall have a look at them too. I’ve never seen anybody examine a house.”
“Why, do you want to?” asked Miss Trant, with raised eyebrows.
‚ÄúI want to see people doing all kinds of things,‚Äù he replied very gravely. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm an observer. I want to see but not to feel. That‚Äôs my duty now, to watch and record. There‚Äôs rhythm in all these activities and I want to be able to‚ÅÝ‚Äîto detach it. Think of the new films.‚Äù After making these enigmatic observations, Static Three looked at her very solemnly, then, with a gesture of farewell, sauntered out of the room.
Miss Trant reached the bottom of the garden in time to see Hurley‚Äôs ancient and gigantic Daimler, the vehicle for all entrances and exits in Hitherton, come slowly down the lane. Mrs.¬ÝChillingford was inside, on her way to the station, and she waved as she passed. As the car disappeared, Hitherton and the bright morning seemed to shrink. Mrs.¬ÝChillingford was on her way to Paddington, to Dorothy, to the embattled Atkinsons, to adventures with the Army and Navy Stores and the shipping offices. ‚ÄúWhat are you going to do, to do, to do?‚Äù the car seemed to roar back at her as it gathered speed down the hill. And she had no answer ready. She thought of the windfall of the morning, six hundred pounds out of the blue, and felt a little quiver of excitement. You could do all manner of things with six hundred pounds, perhaps go all round the world. But she did not want to go all round the world by herself. ‚ÄúI don‚Äôt know what I want, that‚Äôs the trouble,‚Äù she told the great staring nodding dahlias. She found, however, that Mrs.¬ÝPurton knew what she wanted, namely, some orders for lunch and dinner, and after consulting with her, Miss Trant went out to shop.
On her way back, she met Purton standing at the entrance to the Hall. “I was looking for you, Miss,” he said, touching his cap, and then instantly ramming his hands in his pockets. “They’ve just come with a young feller from Medworth’s. Look like these ’ere profiteers. Come in a car as big as a cottage.”
She had no time to reply because at this moment the young fellow from Medworth’s himself suddenly appeared round the corner, raised his hat, and began, in a dramatic whisper: “We’re trying for two hundred.”
He got no further, however, because now another man, very tall, very pale, and with a long drooping moustache, suddenly came round the corner, stared at everybody, took off his hat and forgot to replace it, and mumbled: ‚ÄúMiss Trant? Yes? Rathbury. Come to look‚ÅÝ‚Ää‚Å݂Ķ Sorry to trouble‚ÅÝ‚Ää‚Å݂Ķ Beautiful morning.‚ÅÝ‚Ää‚Å݂Ķ‚Äù
By this time the familiar entrance to the drive seemed to Miss Trant to have turned itself into a comic stage. She wanted to giggle at everything, but retained sufficient control over herself to tell Mr.¬ÝRathbury that she hoped he would like the house and that really it was rather charming.
‚ÄúJust had a glance,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝRathbury murmured. ‚ÄúVery delightful. Yes, certainly. Just what we‚Äôre looking for. The very thing, I should think. Most charming.‚Äù
“Of course, as you’ll see, it’s not very big,” said Miss Trant brightly, feeling that she must say something.
“Not very big, no,” the long moustache agreed. “No worse for that, though. Not at all. Not these days. Just the thing, I fancy.”
“So you’re here.”
Everybody jumped. The voice was very loud and stern, and it came from a square woman, with a purplish fat face and two prominent staring grey eyes.
‚ÄúMy wife,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝRathbury muttered, fading out.
‚ÄúOh, this is the owner, is it?‚Äù shouted Mrs.¬ÝRathbury, staring away. ‚ÄúMiss Trant, isn‚Äôt it? How d‚Äôyou do?‚Äù
“Do you want me to show you round?” Miss Trant felt as if she were addressing a battleship.
“Quite unnecessary, I think, quite unnecessary. We’ll just look round ourselves for a few minutes. I don’t expect we shall take the house. It’s very small, isn’t it? We think it will be too small, don’t we?” She switched the stare on to her husband for a second.
“Yes, of course, rather small, certainly,” he mumbled, carefully looking at nobody. “Drawback of course, being small.”
“And then it’s not really the type of house we’re looking for, not the style, as my husband has probably told you already.”
“No, not the style.” Mournfully he fingered the long moustache. “Not quite, certainly. Perhaps hardly at all.”
‚ÄúNot at all,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝRathbury shouted, giving them everyone in turn a stare. ‚ÄúHowever, we might as well see it.‚Äù Immediately she wheeled about and marched off, and her husband and the young estate agent hurried after her.
Miss Trant and Purton each drew a long breath, and looked at one another. “You’ll be wantin’ them thar pars down at the Cottage, Miss,” said Purton very slowly. “I’ll go and get ’em.”
Miss Trant returned to the Cottage with her purchases, talked to Mrs.¬ÝPurton, dusted the drawing-room, then walked back, slowly, very slowly, to the Hall. As she sauntered up the drive, she thought she saw Hilary disappearing into the garden at the back of the house. A moment later the Rathburys emerged from the front door.
‚ÄúYes, we‚Äôll take it. But not a penny more than two hundred,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝRathbury was shouting to the agent. Then she saw Miss Trant. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm just saying that we shall take it at two hundred. It‚Äôs quite charming, quite charming, the sort of place that wants proper looking after. Several things to be done, of course.‚Äù She stared at Miss Trant, then through her, it seemed, at all the other Trants, as if to accuse them all of neglecting the place. ‚ÄúWe were fortunate in finding that young architect there to make suggestions.‚Äù
Mr.¬ÝRathbury‚Äôs moustache made some vague sound that implied it was in entire agreement with her. It was now Miss Trant‚Äôs turn to stare. She caught the eye of Mr.¬ÝMedworth‚Äôs assistant, who looked both triumphant and puzzled. Turning to Mrs.¬ÝRathbury again, she saw with astonishment that that lady was actually smiling at her. True, the eyes had no part in the smile, but the rest of her face was amiably creasing.
‚ÄúYou never told us it was such a show place,‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝRathbury shouted in great good-humour. ‚ÄúI saw at once, of course, that it must be, and could be more of one, properly cared for. It was the young architect who told us all about it. Did he tell you he had come a hundred miles to see it?‚Äù
“I don’t know,” Miss Trant stammered. “I don’t quite understand. Who is this?”
‚ÄúWhat was the name?‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝRathbury stared all about her as if the name must be written up somewhere. ‚ÄúOh yes, of course‚ÅÝ‚ÄîMr.¬ÝStatic.‚Äù
There was no help for it. Miss Trant gave a little shriek of laughter. ‚ÄúI‚Äôm sorry,‚Äù she gurgled. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs‚ÅÝ‚Äîit‚Äôs such a silly name, isn‚Äôt it?‚Äù
‚ÄúYes, rather; it is, certainly,‚Äù Mr.¬ÝRathbury mumbled, evidently under the impression that he had been appealed to.
‚ÄúIndeed!‚Äù Mrs.¬ÝRathbury looked from one to the other in obvious disapproval. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs a name of some importance, I understand, in‚ÅÝ‚Äîin architectural circles. What was it Mr.¬ÝStatic said he was an authority on?‚Äù
“Seventeenth-century panelled interiors,” replied the young estate agent, in what seemed to Miss Trant a rather queer tone of voice.
“Exactly! I ought to have remembered because I knew the name well. Seventeenth-century panelled interiors. This is a very good specimen, he said. But of course they want proper attention. A house of this kind is a responsibility, of course. Perhaps you’re not interested in these things, Miss Trant. Tell Johnson we’re ready to go back now.”
Miss Trant was fighting an impulse to tell her that she could not have the house after all. With this woman settled in the Hall, Hitherton would be impossible, even though it meant that Mrs.¬ÝChillingford could begin a new saga. ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs strange,‚Äù she told herself, ‚Äúthat I don‚Äôt care more than I do. Perhaps it shows that I really am tired of living here.‚Äù And she answered Mrs.¬ÝRathbury‚Äôs questions meekly enough, said nothing about Hilary (which served her right), then referred her to Mr.¬ÝMedworth.
After lunch, during which Hilary was divided between the glee of the mischievous small boy and the natural shame of a solemn young intellect who has indulged his lower self, they drove to Cheltenham in Hilary‚Äôs car. There she saw Mr.¬ÝTruby, who congratulated her on the result of the sale, the gift of six hundred pounds, and the letting of the house, then told her that she ought to go away and enjoy herself. ‚ÄúYou‚Äôre comfortably off now,‚Äù he added. ‚ÄúMuch better than we expected. I‚Äôll keep this sixteen hundred pounds in a deposit account for you until you decide what to do with it. Don‚Äôt worry about money. What you want now is a change,‚Äù he concluded, with the air of a man who knew what a change was, even though he had never had one.
Miss Trant walked out of the dim office into the bright sunshine, feeling vaguely exhilarated. ‚ÄúHow queer and old-fashioned solicitors‚Äô offices are!‚Äù she cried to Hilary. ‚ÄúGoing to see Mr.¬ÝTruby is like walking into a Dickens novel.‚Äù
“How ghastly for you!” The Static shuddered. Then, as they found a tea shop, he observed mournfully: “When you were in there, I took the car round to a garage to see what sort of price I should get for it. About seventy-five pounds, they said. That’s about half of what it’s worth. Isn’t it a swindle? These garage people hate to pay cash for a car. They’ll allow you anything nearly if they are selling you another.” And having thus descended to this ordinary low level of thought and feeling, he remained there throughout tea and his aunt smiled upon him. About halfway home, on a quiet stretch of road, she asked him to pull up. “Do you think I might try to drive now?” she asked rather breathlessly. “I have a licence because I’ve tried before, when Dorothy Chillingford had a car. Will you explain about this one?”
“Nothing in it. The thing practically drives itself. Why do you want to bother, though?” He jumped out and walked round the car.
‚ÄúBecause‚ÅÝ‚Äîif I can drive it, I‚Äôll buy it from you, Hilary; that is, if you really want to sell it.‚Äù
“You will!” cried the Static joyfully. “Of course I want to sell it.”
“And I’ll give you what you say it’s worth, a hundred and fifty pounds.”
“Oh! I say! Will you really? But are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure,” she said, firmly. “That is, so long as I can drive it.”
“Of course you can drive it,” he cried, with mounting enthusiasm. “Nothing easier! Let me show you where everything is. It really is a good little car, you know.”
And he did show her where everything was, and for the next hour she sat at the wheel under his tuition. So rapidly did she gain confidence that at last she drove them both home, passing two very large buses, a steam-wagon, and several jumpy rattling lorries, without slowing down to less than fifteen miles an hour, and finally sailing up the Hall drive, flushed and triumphant. Then followed ten minutes’ further instruction on getting it in and out of the garage (which was not a proper garage at all but an old stable) and Miss Trant discovered once again the terrors and dangers of reversing, but was assured by Hilary that all was well with her.
“I’ll give you a cheque in the morning,” she told him, as they sat at dinner.
‚ÄúNo hurry at all, you know,‚Äù he explained, though his face had brightened. ‚ÄúStill, it would be rather useful. If we spent all tomorrow morning with the car‚ÅÝ‚Äîthough you don‚Äôt really need any more instruction from me, I can tell you‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI could catch the afternoon train up to town. I hope you don‚Äôt mind my running away at once, but the fact is, I must get hold of Carrera-Brown as soon as I can.‚Äù
“I don’t mind,” she told him. “I shall probably go away myself very soon, perhaps the day after tomorrow.” She was rather astonished when she heard herself announcing this departure. It was, so to speak, as much news to her as it was to him. Indeed, she was the more surprised of the two.
“Splendid!” he said, in an abstracted fashion, looking through her. She could see he was already busy meeting the other Statics.
That night she finished Redgauntlet yet once more, but this time she put it down without the smallest sigh. The dark mysterious hours found her guiding a little blue Mercia down roads that nobody knew, roads that wound through the shining hills of a dream.