``No, sir, I wouldn't have him come today only he went on so. Come along now, John, and take off your coat. Goodness, child, where's your handkerchief.''
Tony went and sat alone in front of the library fire. ``Two men of thirty,'' he said to himself, ``behaving as if they were up for the night from Sandhurst--getting drunk and ringing people up and dancing with tarts at the Sixty-four ... And it makes it all the worst that Brenda was so nice about it.'' He dozed a little; then he went up to change. At dinner he said, ``Ambrose, when I'm alone I think in future I'll have dinner at a table in the library.''
Afterwards he sat with a book in front of the fire, but he was unable to read. At ten o'clock he scattered the logs in the fireplace before going upstairs. He fastened the library windows and turned out the lights. That night he went into Brenda's empty room to sleep.
Two
That was Wednesday; on Thursday Tony felt well again. He had a meeting of the County Council in the morning. In the afternoon he went down to the home farm and discussed a new kind of tractor with his agent. From then onwards he was able to say to himself, ``Tomorrow this time Brenda and Jock will be here.'' He dined in front of the fire in the library. He had given up the diet some weeks ago. ``Ambrose, when I am alone I don't really need a long dinner. In future I'll just have two courses.'' He looked over some accounts his agent had left for him and then went to bed, saying to himself, ``When I wake up it will be the week-end.''
But there was a telegram for him next morning from Jock saying, Week end impossible have to go to constituency how about one after next. He wired back, Delighted any time always here. ``I suppose he's made it up with that girl,'' Tony reflected.
There was also a note from Brenda, written in penciclass="underline"
Coming Sat. with Polly, and a friend of Polly's called Veronica in P.'s car. Maids and luggage on 3.18. Will you tell Ambrose and Mrs. Massop. We had better open Lyonesse for Polly you know what she is about comfort. Veronica can go anywhere--not Galahad. Polly says she's v. amusing. Also Mrs. Beaver coming, please don't mind it is only on business, she thinks she can do something to morning room. Only Polly bringing maid. Also chauffeur. By the way I'm leaving Grimshawe at Hetton next week tell Mrs. Massop. It's a bore and expense boarding her out in London. In fact I think I might do without her altogether what do you think? except she's useful for sewing. Longing to see John again. All going back Sunday evening. Keep sober, darling. Try.
xxxxxx
B.
Tony found very little to occupy his time on Friday. His letters were all finished by ten o'clock. He went down to the farm but they had no business for him there. The duties which before had seemed so multifarious, now took up a very small part of his day; he had not realized how many hours he used to waste with Brenda. He watched John riding in the paddock. The boy clearly bore him ill will for their quarrel on Wednesday; when he applauded a jump, John said, ``She usually does better than this.'' Later, ``When's mummy coming down?''
``Not till tomorrow.''
``Oh.''
``I've got to go over to Little Bayton this afternoon. Would you like to come too and perhaps we could see the kennels?''
John had for weeks past been praying for this expedition. ``No, thank you,'' he said. ``I want to finish a picture I am painting.''
``You can do that any time.''
``I want to do it this afternoon.''
When Tony had left them Ben said, ``Whatever made you speak to your dad like that for? You've been going on about seeing the kennels since Christmas.''
``Not with him,'' said John.
``You ungrateful little bastard, that's a lousy way to speak of your dad.''
``And you ought not to say bastard or lousy in front of me, nanny says not.''
So Tony went over alone to Little Bayton where he had some business to discuss with Colonel Brink. He hoped they would asked him to say on, but the Colonel and his wife were themselves going out to tea, so he drove back in the dusk to Hetton.
A thin mist lay breast high over the park; the turrets and battlements of the abbey stood grey and flat; the boiler man was hauling down the flag on the main tower.
``My poor Brenda, it's an appalling room,'' said Mrs. Beaver.''
``Its not one we use a great deal,'' said Tony very coldly.
``I should think not,'' said the one they called Veronica. ``I can't see much wrong with it,'' said Polly, ``except it's a bit mouldy.''
``You see,'' Brenda explained, not looking at Tony. ``What I thought was that I must have one habitable room downstairs. At present there's only the smoking room and the library. The drawing room is vast and quite out of the question. I thought what I needed was a small sitting room more or less to myself. Don't you think it has possibilities?''
``But, my angel, the shape's all wrong,'' said Daisy. ``And that chimney piece--what is it made of, pink granite, and all the plaster work and the dado. Everything's horrible. It's so dark.''
``I know exactly what Brenda wants,'' said Mrs. Beaver more moderately. ``I don't think it will be impossible. I must think about it. As Veronica says, the structure does rather limit one ... you know I think the only thing to do would be to disregard it altogether and find some treatment so definite that it carried the room if you see what I mean ... supposing we covered the walls with white chromium plating and had natural sheepskin carpet ... I wonder if that would be running you in for more than you meant to spend.''
``I'd blow the whole thing sky-high,'' said Veronica.
Tony left them to their discussion.
``D'you really want Mrs. Beaver to do up the morning room?''
``Not if you don't, sweet.''
``But can you imagine it--white chromium plating?''
``Oh, that was just an idea.''
Tony walked in and out between Mordred and Guinevere as he always did while they were dressing. ``I say,'' he said, returning with his waistcoat. ``You aren't going away tomorrow too, are you?''
``Must.''
He went back to Mordred for his tie and bringing it to Brenda's room again, sat by her side at the dressing table to fasten it.
``By the way,'' said Brenda, ``what did you think about keeping on Grimshawe?--it seems rather a waste.''
``You used always to say you couldn't get on without her.''
``Yes, but now I'm living at the flat everything's so simple.''
``Living? Darling, you talk as though you had settled there for good.''
``D'you mind moving a second, sweet? I can't see properly.''
``Brenda, how long are you going on with this course of economics?''
``Me? I don't know.''
``But you must have some idea?''
``Oh it's surprising what a lot there is to learn ... I was so backward when I started ...''
``Brenda ...''
``Now run and put on your coat. They'll all be down stairs waiting for us.''
That evening Polly and Mrs. Beaver played backgammon. Brenda and Veronica sat together on the sofa sewing and talking about their needlework; occasionally there were bursts of general conversation between the four women; they had the habit of lapsing into a jargon of their own which Tony did not understand; it was a thieves' slang, by which the syllables of each word were transposed. Tony sat just outside the circle, reading under another lamp.
That night when they went upstairs, the three guests came to sit in Brenda's room and talk to her while she went to bed. Tony could hear their low laughter through the dressing-room door. They had boiled water in an electric kettle and were drinking Sedobrol together.