III
Walter Deyre was killed a few weeks before the war ended. His end was a gallant one. He was shot when going back to rescue a wounded comrade under heavy fire. He was awarded a posthumous V.C., and the letter his colonel wrote to Myra was treasured by her as her dearest possession.
Never [wrote the colonel] have I known anyone so fearless of danger. His men adored him and would have followed him anywhere. He has risked his life again and again in the gallantest way. You can indeed be proud of him.
Myra read that letter again and again. She read it to all her friends. It wiped away the faint sting that her husband had left no last word or letter for her.
тАЬBut being a Deyre, he wouldnтАЩt,тАЭ she said to herself.
Yet Walter Deyre had left a letter тАЬin case I should be killed.тАЭ But it was not to Myra and she never knew of it. She was grief-stricken, but happy. Her husband was hers in death as he had never been in life, and with her easy power of making things as she wished them to be, she began to weave a convincing romance of her wonderfully happy married life.
It is difficult to say how Vernon was affected by his fatherтАЩs death. He felt no actual griefтБатАФwas rendered even more stolid by his motherтАЩs obvious wish for him to display emotion. He was proud of his fatherтБатАФso proud that it almost hurtтБатАФyet he understood what Joe had meant when she said that it was better for her mother to be dead. He remembered very clearly that last evening walk with his fatherтБатАФthe things he had saidтБатАФthe feeling there had been between them.
His father, he knew, hadnтАЩt really wanted to come back. He was sorry for his fatherтБатАФhe always had been. He didnтАЩt know why.
It was not grief he felt for his fatherтБатАФit was more a kind of heart-gripping loneliness. Father was deadтБатАФAunt Nina was dead. There was Mother, of course, but that was different.
He couldnтАЩt satisfy his motherтБатАФhe never had been able to. She was always hugging him, crying over him, telling him they must be all in all to each other now. And he couldnтАЩt, he just couldnтАЩt, say the things she wanted him to say. He couldnтАЩt even put his arms round her neck and hug her back.
He longed for the holidays to be over. His mother, with her red eyes, and her widowтАЩs weeds of the heaviest crapeтБатАФsomehow she overpowered things.
Mr.┬аFlemming, the lawyer from London, came down to stay, and Uncle Sydney came from Birmingham. He stayed two days. At the end of them, Vernon was summoned to the library.
The two men were sitting at the long table. Myra was sitting in a low chair by the fire, her handkerchief to her eyes.
тАЬWell, my boy,тАЭ said Uncle Sydney, тАЬweтАЩve got something to talk to you about. How would you like to come and live near your Aunt Carrie and me at Birmingham?тАЭ
тАЬThank you,тАЭ said Vernon, тАЬbut IтАЩd rather live here.тАЭ
тАЬA bit gloomy, donтАЩt you think?тАЭ said his uncle. тАЬNow IтАЩve got my eye on a jolly houseтБатАФnot too big, thoroughly comfortable. ThereтАЩll be your cousins near for you to play with in the holidays. ItтАЩs a very good idea, I think.тАЭ
тАЬIтАЩm sure it is,тАЭ said Vernon politely. тАЬBut IтАЩd really like being here best, thank you.тАЭ
тАЬAh! HтАЩm,тАЭ said Uncle Sydney. He blew his nose and looked questioningly at the lawyer, who assented to the look with a slight nod.
тАЬItтАЩs not quite so simple as that, old chap,тАЭ said Uncle Sydney. тАЬI think youтАЩre quite old enough to understand if I explain things to you. Now that your fatherтАЩs deadтБатАФerтБатАФpassed from us, Abbots Puissants belongs to you.тАЭ
тАЬI know,тАЭ said Vernon.
тАЬEh? How do you know? Servants been talking?тАЭ
тАЬFather told me before he went away.тАЭ
тАЬOh!тАЭ said Uncle Sydney rather taken aback. тАЬOh, I see. Well, as I say, Abbots Puissants belongs to you, but a place like this takes a lot of money to runтБатАФpaying wages and things like thatтБатАФyou understand? And then there are some things called Death Duties. When anyone dies, you have to pay out a lot of money to the Government.
тАЬNow, your father wasnтАЩt a rich man. When his father died, and he came into this place, he had so little money that he thought heтАЩd have to sell it.тАЭ
тАЬSell it?тАЭ burst out Vernon incredulously.
тАЬYes, itтАЩs not entailed.тАЭ
тАЬWhatтАЩs entailed?тАЭ
Mr.┬аFlemming explained carefully and clearly.
тАЬButтБатАФbutтБатАФyou arenтАЩt going to sell it now?тАЭ
Vernon gazed at him with agonizing, imploring eyes.
тАЬCertainly not,тАЭ said Mr.┬аFlemming. тАЬThe estate is left to you, and nothing can be done until you are of ageтБатАФthat means twenty-one, you know.тАЭ
Vernon breathed a sigh of relief.
тАЬBut, you see,тАЭ continued Uncle Sydney, тАЬthere isnтАЩt enough money to go on living here. As I say, your father would have had to sell it. But he met your mother and married her, and fortunately she had enough money toтБатАФto keep things going. But your fatherтАЩs death has made a lot of difference. For one thing, he has left certainтБатАФerтБатАФdebts which your mother insists on paying.тАЭ
There was a sniff from Myra. Uncle SydneyтАЩs tone was embarrassed and he hurried on.
тАЬThe commonsense thing to do is to let Abbots Puissants for a term of yearsтБатАФtill you are twenty-one, in fact. By then, who knows? Things mayтБатАФerтБатАФchange for the better. Naturally your mother will be happier living near her own relations. You must think of your mother, you know, my boy.тАЭ
тАЬYes,тАЭ said Vernon. тАЬFather told me to.тАЭ
тАЬSo thatтАЩs settledтБатАФeh?тАЭ
How cruel they were, thought Vernon. Asking himтБатАФwhen he could see that there was nothing to ask him about. They could do as they liked. They meant to. Why call him in here and pretend!
Strangers would come and live in Abbots Puissants.
Never mind! Some day he would be twenty-one.
тАЬDarling,тАЭ said Myra, тАЬIтАЩm doing it all for you. It would be so sad here without Daddy, wouldnтАЩt it?тАЭ
She held out her arms, but Vernon pretended not to notice. He walked out of the room, saying with difficulty:
тАЬThank you, Uncle Sydney, so much, for telling me.тАЭ