A Civil Contract Read online

  ‘I mean, you didn’t make it?’

  ‘Make it?’ he repeated.

  ‘Build it? One of Papa’s acquaintances did that, when everything Gothic was fashionable, and I believe it was much admired.’

  ‘Oh!’ he said, rather blankly. ‘No, we didn’t make ours: that was done for us, by zealots, during the Civil War.’

  ‘Yes, of course: I should have known that was how it must have been,’ she said apologetically. ‘You wouldn’t have any need to build a ruin.’

  Such interchanges as this might disconcert him, but they amused him as well. It was not until she broke the news to him that it was her father who had bought the house in Grosvenor Street that any serious rift occurred between them.

  He was reading a letter from Wimmering when she came into the room, holding in her hand a single sheet covered over with Mr Chawleigh’s undistinguished scrawl, and exclaiming: ‘Oh, Adam, the post brought me a letter from Papa!’

  He looked up. ‘Did it? I hope he is well?’

  ‘Oh, yes! That is, he doesn’t say, but he never ails! The thing is that he has contrived to do what even I thought was impossible, in such a short space of time. I should have known him better! Particularly when he promised me he would, if he had to hire a whole army of workmen, which I should think he must have done. Papa never promises what he can’t perform!’

  ‘No, I’m sure he doesn’t. What is it that he has done? Some-thing that pleases you very much, I collect!’

  ‘Yes – if you are pleased. Your house, Adam! You thought you had sold it to Mr Stickney, but he was only acting for Papa!’

  He stared at her. ‘Your father bought my house?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, and he would have liked to have given you the title-deeds on our wedding-day, only they were not quite prepared, so then he thought he wouldn’t tell you till all the painting and papering was done, and the house ready for us to step into. I never thought it would be in so short a time, but he writes to me that –’

  ‘Was this your notion?’ he interrupted.

  ‘No, I’m afraid I didn’t think of it,’ she replied. ‘Though it was through my telling Papa that you meant to sell the house that it came about. He said immediately that he would buy it, and give it back to you, if I thought you would like it, so –’

  ‘And you did think so?’

  She perceived suddenly that he was very white. Her own colour receded; she faltered: ‘Why, yes! I thought –’

  ‘I put the house up for sale as a means of providing for my sisters!’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know! You told me!’

  ‘And you thought I should like him to buy it? At a price I always considered to be extortionate, too!’

  Her brow cleared; she said, smiling: ‘Oh, but you need not think of that! It was nothing to Papa: I promise you he didn’t grudge it! Indeed, he laughed about it, and said that you had a sure card in Wimmering! Papa never dislikes a man for being what he calls a deep old file! And in this case I believe that he didn’t wish to haggle – oh, I know he did not!’ She hesitated, and then said: ‘You see, when he asked me why you meant to sell the town house, and I told him, he – he was very much struck. He said that he honoured you for it, though it was – he thought – nonsensical. He is very shrewd, you know: he understood immediately that it would not do for him to tell you – offer to –’ Her voice failed; she lifted a hand to her burning cheek. ‘Oh, was I wrong to permit it? Papa was so pleased to think he might furnish you with – with what you needed, without hurting your pride –’

  ‘Without – Oh, my God!’ he ejaculated. ‘So this was to be an agreeable surprise, was it? You must excuse me: it is intolerable to me! Don’t you understand – No: you don’t, and I can’t explain it to you. I can only trust that your father won’t suffer too great a loss over it. I daresay he won’t, if he has furbished the house up smartly. Recommend him to place it on the market again at once! I shall be happy to learn that he has disposed of it at a profit!’

  He went out of the room as he spoke, with a hasty, limping step. Her hand flew out involuntarily, but he was not looking at her. Her hand dropped; she did not speak; and the next instant the door had shut with a snap behind him.

  She did not see him again for several hours. He had a horse saddled, and rode for miles, at first a prey to fury, but presently, as rage abated, falling into a despairing mood. He had been made to feel his golden shackles; he looked into the future, seeing himself the slave of Mr Chawleigh’s benevolence, and wished, for a dreadful few minutes, that the shot that had lamed him had found a more vital target.

  When he returned to Rushleigh Manor it was already past the dinner-hour, but the butler told him that my lady had not yet come downstairs. He found her at her dressing-table, with her maid clasping her pearls round her neck. Her eyes turned quickly towards the door. He saw how anxiously she looked at him; and he smiled at her, saying: ‘I’m afraid I’m late! Don’t scold me! I went farther than I knew, but I shan’t keep you waiting above a few minutes.’

  ‘Well, as though it mattered a straw!’ she replied. ‘I thought very likely you might be late, and told them to keep dinner back. Did you have an agreeable ride?’

  He waited until Martha had left the room, and said, as the door was closed: ‘Not very. I beg your pardon, Jenny! I was uncivil to you, and unkind: forgive me!’

  ‘There’s no need for you to beg my pardon,’ she replied. ‘It was my fault. I should have asked you – not have allowed Papa to buy the house without telling you.’

  A gulf yawned between them; as though she saw it, she said, before he could answer her: ‘You’ll be thinking I ought to have known better without your telling me. Well, I didn’t: no use pretending I did! I see now, though not quite the way you do, I daresay. That’s because Papa has always been so rich that I don’t regard money much – don’t think it signifies, in the way you do.’

  ‘You might well wonder why, having accepted so much from your father, I should ride rusty over this. I can’t tell you. Don’t let us talk about it any more!’ He bent over her, and kissed her cheek. ‘You are much kinder to me than I deserve,’ he told her. ‘I must go and change my rig before our dinner is quite spoilt.’

  ‘Never mind that!’ she said. ‘Tell me what you wish me to do! You said, recommend Papa to put the house up for sale again: if you meant it, I’ll try to make him understand, but I shan’t be able – I know I shan’t!’

  ‘There seems to be no end to my incivilities,’ he said ruefully. ‘I wish he hadn’t done it, but since he has I can’t mend it.’

  ‘I need not tell him? Thank you! – he would be so disappointed! He has taken such pains over it! You see, there’s nothing he enjoys more than planning delightful surprises, or giving one costly presents, and – and if one doesn’t like them – well, he pretends not to care, but one can’t but see how cast-down he is! Which is why –’

  ‘My dear, indeed you need say no more! We won’t disappoint him.’

  He gave her shoulder a pat, and turned away. As he reached the door, she blurted out: ‘You won’t like it – and I never knew that he meant to – Adam, he writes to me that he has furnished it for us!’

  He paused, his hand on the door-knob. ‘Has he? Generous of him! I am much obliged to him! I am sure it was all sadly shabby. And my mother took so much from it, didn’t she? I expect I shall hardly recognize the house when I see it again.’

  He went out of the room as he spoke; and when they met, a little later, he made no reference to the subject, and nor did she. It was never mentioned again until the arrival of Charlotte’s letter, when Jenny’s tongue tripped over the words Grosvenor Street, and she changed them quickly to London.

  She would have liked to have been able to talk naturally about the house, but dared not. She had discovered that when Adam was angry he retired behind a barrier which was as impenetrable as it was intangible. Accustomed as she was to her father’s unrestrained manifestations of wrath, it had surprised her that Adam should