“Good gracious! What time is it?” she asked.
“Quarter past ten, m’lady.”
“Whatever brings Eustace here at this time of the morning? Has he lost his pocket watch?”
Eustace March was her son-in-law, the widower of her late daughter, Olivia, who had borne him a large number of children and died comparatively young. Her marriage had been her own choice, but one Vespasia had never understood; nor had she found it easy to like Eustace. He was in every way her opposite. But it was Olivia who had married him, and as far as it was possible to judge from exteriors, he had made her happy.
“Shall I tell him to wait, m’lady? Or should I say you are unavailable today and he should come back another time?”
“Oh no. If he can wait, tell him I shall be down in half an hour.”
“Yes m’lady.” She withdrew obediently to deliver the message to the parlormaid to give to Eustace.
Vespasia finished her tea and set the tray aside. It would take her half an hour at least to prepare for the day satisfactorily. Her maid had returned and was waiting to assist her, and she rose and began with a wash in hot water and scented soap.
She entered the cool, classically spacious withdrawing room and saw Eustace standing by the window looking into the garden. He was a very solid man, very robust. He believed intensely in good health as a fundamental Christian virtue, to be coupled with sanity of mind, and thus a proper balance in all things. He approved of plenty of long walks in fresh air, open windows regardless of the weather, a fine appetite, cold baths and good sportsmanship as an ideal of manhood.
He turned around with a smile as he heard Vespasia come in. His rather grizzled hair was grayer than last time she had seen him, and definitely receding a little at the front, but as always he had a good color and a clear eye.
“Good morning, Mama-in-law, how are you? Well, I hope?” He seemed in particularly fine spirits, and obviously had something he wished to say to her. His enthusiasm was bursting from him and she was afraid he was going to grip her hand and wring it.
“Good morning, Eustace. Yes, I am very well, thank you.”
“You are quite sure? You are up a little late. Early is best, you know. Good for the circulation. A good walk would make you feel fit for anything.”
“For my bed again,” she said dryly. “I did not get home until three in the morning. I attended the reception at the Duchess of Marlborough’s. It was most enjoyable.” She sat down in her favorite chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Eustace? You have not come simply to enquire after my health. You could have done that with a letter. Please do sit down. You look so restless standing there, bristling with energy; as if you were about to leave even as you tell me what is on your mind.”
Eustace obeyed, but perched on the edge of his chair, as if relaxing would put a strain on him more than he could bear.
“I have not been to call on you for some time, Mama-in-law. I came principally to rectify that omission and to see how you are. I am delighted to find you so well.”
“Rubbish,” she said with a smile. “You have something to tell me. It is on the tip of your tongue. What is it?”
“Nothing specific, I assure you,” he reiterated. “Are you still engaged in fighting for social reforms?” He leaned back in the chair at last and crossed his hands over his stomach.
She found his manner irritating, but perhaps that was more due to memory than anything in the present. It had been his intolerable bullying and insensitivity which had at least in part precipitated the tragedy which had overtaken the whole family in Cardington Crescent. Only afterwards had he been even touched with the slightest perception of his own part in it. For a brief period he had been bewildered and ashamed. It had passed rapidly, and now he was fully back to his original ebullience and the total conviction that he was right in all his major beliefs and opinions. Like many people of intense physical energy and good health, he had an ability to forget the past and proceed with the present.
Nevertheless, she found his attitude patronizing, like that of a benevolent schoolmaster.
“Now and then,” she replied coolly. “I have also entertained myself with renewing some old acquaintances.” She did not tell him that the principal among these was Thelonius Quade, a high court judge some twenty years her junior, who had in the past been an ardent admirer, deeply in love with her. The friendship, reawoken, was increasingly precious to her. That was something she did not wish to share with Eustace. “And also there are Thomas Pitt’s cases,” she added truthfully, although she knew Eustace would not like it. Apart from its being socially unacceptable to involve oneself with the police, it would far more piquantly bring back his own memories, griefs, and probably even guilt.
“I think that is rather unsuitable, Mama-in-law,” he said with a frown. “Especially when there is so much that is worthy to be done. I have never minded your eccentricities now and then, but …” He stopped. Vespasia’s eyes froze him and the rest of his sentence died on his lips.
“How generous of you,” she said icily.
“What I mean is-”
“I know what you mean, Eustace. This whole conversation is unnecessary. I know what you wish to say, and you know what my reply will be. You do not approve of my friendship with Thomas and Charlotte, still less of my assisting them now and again. I have every intention of continuing, and do not consider it to be any of your concern.” She smiled at him very slightly. “Shall we proceed from there? Do you have some particular worthy cause in mind in which you think I should be involved?”
“Now that you mention it …” He recovered his composure almost immediately. It was a quality in him she both admired and found intensely irritating. He was like one of those toys with a round, weighted base which one cannot knock over because automatically it rights itself the moment you let go of it.
“Yes?”
His face lit with enthusiasm again. “I have recently been permitted to join a most exclusive organization,” he said eagerly. “I say ‘permitted’ because members are accepted only when proposed by another member and closely examined by a selection committee. It is entirely charitable of course, with the highest possible aims.”
She waited, trying to keep her mind open to hear all he said. There were, after all, a legion of societies in London, most of them excellent in their purposes.
He crossed his legs, his face supremely satisfied. He had rather round, hazel-gray eyes, and they were shining with enthusiasm.
“Because all the members are men of means and in many cases considerable power in the community, in the world of finance or government, a great deal can be accomplished. Even laws changed, if it is desirable.” His voice rose with the vigor of his feelings. “Enormous amounts of money can be raised to aid the poor, the disadvantaged, those suffering from injustices, disease or other misfortune. It is really very exciting, Mama-in-law. I feel highly privileged to be a member.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“It sounds most praiseworthy. Perhaps I should join? Could you propose me?”
She watched his face with amusement. His mouth fell open, and his eyes reflected utter confusion. He was not even sure whether she was indulging in some distasteful joke. He had never been entirely certain of her sense of humor.
She waited, regarding him without a flicker.
“Mama-in-law, no serious society I know of accepts women! You must surely be aware of that?”
“Why not?” she asked. “I have money, no husband I am obliged to obey, and I am as capable of doing good as anyone else.”
“That is not the point!” he protested.
“Oh. What is the point?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What is the point?” she repeated.
Eustace was saved from justifying what to him was an assumption about the nature of the universe which was as beyond questioning as it was beyond explanation. The parlormaid came in to say that Mrs. Pitt had
