There were servants in the room so that they said nothing more until later, when they were alone in the library. Then, “Are you really going. away?”
“Yes. I can't stay here. You understand that, don't you?”
“Yes, of course. I was thinking we might both go away, abroad somewhere.”
Brenda did not answer him but continued in her own line. “I couldn't stay here. It's all over, don't you see, our life down here.”
“Darling, what do you mean?”
“Don't ask me to explain … not just now.”
“But, Brenda, sweet, I don't understand. We're both young. Of course we can never forget John. He'll always be our eldest son but …”
“Don't go on Tony, please don't go on.”
So Tony stopped and after a time said, “So you're going to Veronica's tomorrow?”
“Mmmm.”
“I think I will ask Jock to come.”
“Yes, I should.”
“And we can think about plans later when we've got more used to things.”
“Yes, later.”
Next morning.
“A sweet letter from mother,” said Brenda, handing it across. Lady St. Cloud had written:
… I shall not come down to Hetton for the funeral, but I shall be thinking of you both all the time and my dear grandson. I shall think of you as I saw you all three, together, at Christmas. Dear children, at a time like this only yourselves can be any help to each other. Love is the only thing that is stronger than sorrow …
“I got a telegram from Jock,” said Tony, “he can come.”
“It's really rather embarrassing for us all, Brenda coming,” said Veronica. “I do think she might have chucked. I shan't in the least know what to say to her.”
Tony said to Jock, as they sat alone after dinner, “I've been trying to understand, and I think I do now. It's not how I feel myself but Brenda and I are quite different in lots of ways. It's because they were strangers and didn't know John, and were never in our life here, that she wants to be with them. That's it, don't you think? She wants to be absolutely alone and away from everything that reminds her of what has happened … all the same I feel awful about letting her go. I can't tell you what she was like here … quite mechanical. It's so much worse for her than it is for me, I see that. It's so terrible not being able to do anything to help.”
Jock did not answer.
Beaver was staying at Veronica's. Brenda said to him, “Until Wednesday, when I thought something had happened to you, I had no idea that I loved you.”
“Well you've said it often enough.”
“I'm going to make you understand,” said Brenda. “You clod.”
On Monday morning Tony found this letter on his breakfast tray.
Darling Tony,
I am not coming back to Hetton. Grimshawe can pack everything and bring it to the flat. Then I shan't want her any more.
You must have realized for some time that things were going wrong.
I am in love with John Beaver and I want to have a divorce and marry him. If John Andrew had not died things might not have happened like this. I can't tell. As it is, I simply can't begin over again. Please do not mind too much. I suppose we shan't be allowed to meet while the case is on but I hope afterwards we shall be great friends. Anyway I shall always look on you as one whatever you think of me.
Best love from
Brenda.
When Tony read this his first thought was that Brenda had lost her reason. “She's only seen Beaver twice to my knowledge,” he said.
But later he showed the letter to Jock who said, “I'm sorry it should have happened like this.”
“But it's not true, is it?”
“Yes, I'm afraid it is. Everyone has known for some time.”
But it was several days before Tony fully realized what it meant. He had got into a habit of loving and trusting Brenda.
CHAPTER FOUR
English Gothic — II
One
“How's the old boy taking it?”
“Not so well. It makes me feel rather a beast,” said Brenda. “I'm afraid he minds a lot.”
“Well you wouldn't like it if he didn't,” said Polly to console her.
“No, I suppose not.”
“I shall stick by you whatever happens,” said Jenny Abdul Akbar.
“Oh everything is going quite smoothly now,” said Brenda. “There was a certain amount of gêne with relatives.”
Tony had been living with Jock for the last three weeks. Mrs. Rattery had gone to California and he was grateful for company. They dined together most evenings. They had given up going to Brat's; so had Beaver; they were afraid of meeting each other. Instead they went to Brown's where Beaver was not a member. Beaver was continually with Brenda nowadays, at one of half a dozen houses.
Mrs. Beaver did not like the turn things had taken; her workmen had been sent back from Hetton with their job unfinished.
In the first week Tony had had several distasteful interviews. Allan had attempted to act as peacemaker. “You just wait a few weeks,” he had said. “Brenda will come back. She'll soon get sick of Beaver.”
“But I don't want her back.”
“I know just how you feel, but it doesn't do to be medieval about it. If Brenda hadn't been upset at John's death this need never have come to a crisis. Why last year Marjorie was going everywhere with that ass Robin Beaseley. She was mad about him at the time but I pretended not to notice and it all blew over. If I were you I should refuse to recognize that anything has happened.”
Marjorie had said, “Of course Brenda doesn't love Beaver. How could she? … And if she thinks she does at the moment, I think it's your duty to prevent her making a fool of herself. You must refuse to be divorced — anyway until she has found someone more reasonable.”
Lady St. Cloud had said, “Brenda has been very, very foolish. She always was an excitable girl, but I am sure there was never anything wrong, quite sure. That wouldn't be like Brenda at all. I haven't met Mr. Beaver and I do not wish to. I understand he is unsuitable in every way. Brenda would never want to marry anyone like that. I will tell you exactly how it happened, Tony. Brenda must have felt a tiny bit neglected — people often do at that stage of marriage. I have known countless cases — and it was naturally flattering to her to find a young man to beg and carry for her. That's all it was, nothing wrong. And then the terrible shock of little John's accident unsettled her and she didn't know what she was saying or writing. You'll both laugh over this little fracas in years to come.”
Tony had not set eyes on Brenda since the afternoon of the funeral. Once he spoke to her over the telephone.
It was during the second week when he was feeling most lonely and bewildered by various counsels. Allan had been with him urging a reconciliation. “I've been talking to Brenda,” he had said. “She's sick of Beaver already. The one thing she wants is to go back to Hetton and settle down with you again.”
While Allan was there, Tony resolutely refused to listen but later the words, and the picture they evoked, would not leave his mind. So he rang her up and she answered him calmly and gravely.
“Brenda, this is Tony.”
“Hullo, Tony, what is it?”