nothing much. And of course there’s Harry–’
He stopped, slightly embarrassed.
‘Harry?’ said Magdalene, surprised. ‘Who is Harry?’
‘Ah – er – my brother.’
‘I never knew you had another brother.’
‘My dear, he wasn’t a great – er – credit – to us. We don’t mention him. His behaviour was disgraceful. We haven’t heard anything of him for some years now. He’s probably dead.’
Magdalene laughed suddenly.
‘What is it? What are you laughing at?’
Magdalene said:
‘I was only thinking how funny it was that you – you, George, should have a disreputable brother! You’re so very respectable.’
‘I should hope so,’ said George coldly.
Her eyes narrowed.
‘Your father isn’t – very respectable, George.’
‘Really, Magdalene!’
‘Sometimes the things he says make me feel quite uncomfortable.’
George said:
‘Really, Magdalene, you surprise me. Does – er – does Lydia feel the same?’
‘He doesn’t say the same kind of things to Lydia,’ said Magdalene. She added angrily, ‘No, he never says them to her. I can’t think why not.’
George glanced at her quickly and then glanced away.
‘Oh, well,’ he said vaguely. ‘One must make allowances. At Father’s age – and with his health being so bad–’
He paused. His wife asked:
‘Is he really – pretty ill?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. He’s remarkably tough. All the same, since he wants to have his family round him at Christmas, I think we are quite right to go. It may be his last Christmas.’
She said sharply:
‘You say that, George, but really, I suppose, he may live for years?’
Slightly taken aback, her husband stammered:
‘Yes – yes, of course he may.’
Magdalene turned away.
‘Oh, well,’ she said, ‘I suppose we’re doing the right thing by going.’
‘I have no doubt about it.’
‘But I hate it! Alfred’s so dull, and Lydia snubs me.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘She does. And I hate that beastly manservant.’
‘Old Tressilian?’
‘No, Horbury. Sneaking round like a cat and smirking.’
‘Really, Magdalene, I can’t see that Horbury can affect you in any way!’
‘He just gets on my nerves, that’s all. But don’t let’s bother. We’ve got to go, I can see that. Won’t do to offend the old man.’
‘No-no, that’s just the point. About the servants’ Christmas dinner–’
‘Not now, George, some other time. I’ll just ring up Lydia and tell her that we’ll come by the five-twenty tomorrow.’
Magdalene left the room precipitately. After telephoning she went up to her own room and sat down in front of the desk. She let down the flap and rummaged in its various pigeon-holes. Cascades of bills came tumbling out. Magdalene sorted through them, trying to arrange them in some kind of order. Finally, with an impatient sigh, she bundled them up and thrust them back whence they had come. She passed a hand over her smooth platinum head.
‘What on earth am I to do?’ she murmured.
On the first floor of Gorston Hall a long passage led to a big room overlooking the front drive. It was a room furnished in the more flamboyant of old-fashioned styles. It had heavy brocaded wallpaper, rich leather armchairs, large vases embossed with dragons, sculptures in bronze… Everything in it was magnificent, costly and solid.
In a big grandfather armchair, the biggest and most imposing of all the chairs, sat the thin, shrivelled figure of an old man. His long clawlike hands rested on the arms of the chair. A gold-mounted stick was by his side. He wore an old shabby blue dressing-gown. On his feet were carpet slippers. His hair was white and the skin of his face was yellow.
A shabby, insignificant figure, one might have thought. But the nose, aquiline and proud, and the eyes, dark and intensely alive, might cause an observer to alter his opinion. Here was fire and life and vigour.
Old Simeon Lee cackled to himself, a sudden, high cackle of amusement.
He said:
‘You gave my message to Mrs Alfred, hey?’
Horbury was standing beside his chair. He replied in his soft deferential voice:
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Exactly in the words I told you? Exactly, mind?’
‘Yes, sir. I didn’t make a mistake, sir.’
‘No – you don’t make mistakes. You’d better not make mistakes either – or you’ll regret it! And what did she say, Horbury? What did Mr Alfred say?’
Quietly, unemotionally, Horbury repeated what had passed. The old man cackled again and rubbed his hands together.
‘Splendid… First rate… They’ll have been thinking and wondering – all the afternoon! Splendid! I’ll have’em up now. Go and get them.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Horbury walked noiselessly across the room and went out.
‘And, Horbury–’
The old man looked round, then cursed to himself.
‘Fellow moves like a cat. Never know where he is.’
He sat quite still in his chair, his fingers caressing his chin till there was a tap on the door, and Alfred and Lydia came in.
‘Ah, there you are, there you are. Sit here, Lydia, my dear, by me. What a nice colour you’ve got.’
‘I’ve been out in the cold. It makes one’s cheeks burn afterwards.’
Alfred said:
‘How are you, Father, did you have a good rest this afternoon?’
‘First rate – first rate. Dreamt about the old days! That was before I settled down and became a pillar of society.’
He cackled with sudden laughter.
His daughter-in-law sat silently smiling with polite attention.
Alfred said:
‘What’s this, Father, about two extra being expected for Christmas?’
‘Ah, that! Yes, I must tell you about that. It’s going to be a grand Christmas for me this year – a grand Christmas. Let me see, George is coming and Magdalene–’
Lydia said:
‘Yes, they are arriving tomorrow by the five-twenty.’
