Phoenix and Ashes

Reggie decided not to go down to the pub tonight; he returned to Longacre feeling more alive than he had in a long time, even though his nap on the cold ground had made his knee ache abominably. He left the motor at the stables and limped his way up to the main house, entering by the terrace-door as the sun began to set, only to find his mother waiting for him in the sitting-room with a letter in her hand, and her father beside her with a scowl on his face.

'Reggie, did you invite Brigadier Mann here to visit?' she asked abruptly, before he could even so much as greet her.

Ah. That's what this is all about. I did not ask the king her father for permission to bring a guest here.

'As a matter of fact, yes, I did,' he replied, 'I am the head of this household; he wrote to ask if he could come for a visit and see how I am doing, and I of course was delighted to invite him.'

His grandfather bristled all over at that. 'Now you see here, you young pup—'

'No, Grandfather, you see here,' he interrupted, throttling down an irrational fury that was all the worse because his good mood of the afternoon had been spoiled entirely. 'It was all very well for you to play at being the head of this house while I was away, but I'm back now, and I'm perfectly entitled to invite one of father's oldest friends for a visit if I choose.'

'And put more work on your mother!' the old man snarled.

Well, that was the feeblest of feeble excuses. 'Oh, please,' he snorted. 'There is a house full of servants here for the three of us, and what is more, I can distinctly recall mother entertaining forty guests for the better part of three weeks during the hunting season with hardly more staff. Are you suggesting she has suddenly become such a ninny-hammer that she can't arrange for an extra plate at meals or bear the conversation of one more old man?'

'Please,' his mother said in distress, putting the letter down as if it had burned her, 'don't argue.'

'I'm not arguing, Mater, I'm standing up for you. Your father seems to be under the mistaken impression that you've regressed to the mental capabilities of a child. I'm correcting that impression.' He looked down his nose at the old man, who was going red in the face. 'Besides, it isn't as if the Brigadier needs entertaining. He'll probably want to use the library for his researches, he'll be looking forward to the odd game of billiards, and I might persuade him to go riding. I think we can manage that.'

'That—so-called friend of your father's can't even be bothered to speak a civil word to me!' his grandfather got out from between clenched teeth.

Yes, and that is the real reason you object, isn't it? Because he doesn't treat you like royalty. He outranks you, old man, in or out of the service.

'Perhaps that was because you sneered at him and his military record the moment he walked in the door,' Reggie said, with dangerous calm. 'But if you find his company so intolerable, why don't you go back to your own home? We are perfectly capable of managing without your advice, you know.'

The old man lurched to his feet. 'I ought to horsewhip you for that!' he roared.

'Don't try it, unless you want the favor returned,' Reggie replied contemptuously. Even though his stomach was turning at the confrontation, and he wanted badly to retreat to his room, this time he was, by heaven, going to stand his ground. And his grandfather might as well hear the unvarnished truth for once in his life. 'I'm weary of your muttered insults, of your accusations of malingering, and your insufferable arrogance. I'm tired of you turning mother into a spineless shrinking violet with no will of her own. Go home, Grandfather. Go and learn some manners. Come back when you're fit to be company for good men like the Brigadier; until then, go roar at your poor valet and threaten your housekeeper like the petty tyrant you are.'

He turned to his mother. 'Mater, you've always liked the Brigadier's company in the past, and I see no reason why that should have changed. You might see your way clear to inviting a few more people down as well; it would do you good to have some company here. My Aunt April, perhaps; that would give us enough for a good round of bridge of an evening.'

His grandfather was still spluttering; his mother was distracted by the thought of inviting someone whose company she enjoyed.

'Lady Williams?' his mother faltered. 'But I thought her chattering—'

'I should welcome her chattering, Mater,' he replied, gently. 'It is good-natured and good-hearted. It would be very pleasant to hear good-natured conversation around here. Perhaps if there were more of such pleasant conversation, I would find the pub less congenial.'

By now his grandfather was nearly purple with rage, and driven into incoherence.

'If you were to choose to stay, Grandfather, I'll thank you to remember that,' he continued. 'And don't bother