I'm so terribly grateful to you all for Penny's holiday. His time in England had such a sad beginning — but young creatures recover quickly and so they should. I wish I could have seen the times you all had! Miranda must be a sweet little thing now — it's a pity she's a bit too young to have been a playmate for Penny. But he seems to have found a real playmate in Humphrey Finch! What a charming old fellow he must be to give so much of his valuable time to a young boy. They seem to have had a great spree in London, though Penny was a bit vague about what they actually did together. (I believe he's still mixing up the Tower and Buckingham Palace!) Wouldn't it be too heavenly if Humphrey came and saw us all out here as he said he might?
Forgive this dreadfully short letter. I'm as round as a barrel and terribly tired these last few days though madly cheerful! Try not to worry about Randall. Jimmie says maybe after all he'll come back where the money is! And I say (less cynically!) that he'll surely come back where he knows he belongs.
With lots of love from us both, and from Penny and Jeanie and Timmie and Bobby — and Maggy — and ever your loving Sally — Hugh folded up the letter. He had not had time, in the flurry of embarkation, to read it properly before. He was now on the ship and some hours out from Southampton. He was going to India with Mildred and Felix.
They were sitting together in the bar, after having had an excellent dinner. The bar was at the stem of the ship, and behind them the white wake boiled and curled away into the darkness. Hugh felt at ease. He smiled across at Mildred.
Mildred was radiant. The slight illness which she had complained of earlier in the summer seemed to have left her completely. She was wearing a smart blue dress of some silky-lineny stuff which brought out the extreme blueness of her eyes, as blue as scyllas, Hugh poetically thought. Her petticoat was not in evidence and a discreet touch of rouge upon her cheeks gave her face a youthful definition. She was wearing just enough lipstick and her soft peppery hair which had, it was clear, lately received the attentions of an expert hairdresser, was cut short in a neat yet raffish style about her beaming countenance. Her hair seemed less grey, in fact hardly grey at all, Hugh noticed; he must have mis-remembered its colour. He had never seen her looking so nice, and he was tempted to pay her some compliment, only refrained because she might think him forward or absurd.
Felix was sitting at the next table writing a letter and thoughtfully sipping his brandy with a soft dreamy look upon his handsome and normally so discreet features. He had been exceedingly gay at dinner. He had obviously been much more cheerful since he had decided to do the Gurkha job instead of staying in Whitehall. Hugh felt, and said so, that he was quite right. After all, if one is a soldier one had better be a soldier and not a wretched bureaucrat. Hugh could not see how a stay-at-home office job could tempt a man like Felix at all. Mildred had also lately confided in Hugh concerning Felix's love life, an entity which Hugh had never, he discovered, believed to exist at all. Mildred's brother was, it appeared, deeply in love with a Freneh girl who was now in Delhi, and thither he would hasten, as soon as they arrived in India and the very dark blue Mercedes had been unloaded from the hold, to plead his case. He had, it appeared, good hopes; and Hugh took pleasure, though with a slight sigh, in the younger man's evident happiness.
'Is he writing to her, do you think? he whispered to Mildred. 'Yes. I saw it was in French!
Hugh beamed.
'Absurd Hugh! she said. She often said this now and Hugh had stopped hearing it as something else. His hearing seemed to be altogether better lately, and the din of argument in his head had subsided to a docile murmur. He had provided himself with plenty of Dramamine for the trip but hoped that now he would not need it.
'Would you like to see Sarah's letter? he asked Mildred. 'There's nothing in it, actually.
'Does she say anything about Humpo?
'Well, yes. She says Penn had a great spree with him, though he's a little vague about what they actually did together.
Mildred gave a little scream of laughter, startling the pen-biting Felix. 'You aren't worrying, are you? I know my Humphrey.
'Of course I'm not worrying. Still, we hardly looked after the boy and I rather blush at Sarah's letter.
Sally
'He'll forget the bad times and remember the good, said Mildred. 'We all do.
'Where's Humphrey now, anyway? In the haste of a rather suddenly decided-upon departure he had not managed to check on the activities of the, as usual, conveniently preoccupied Humphrey.
'Oh, he's in?RAhat?. I'm sure he has consoled himself quickly. We all do.
'Hmm, said Hugh. He signalled to the waiter. The bar was warm and plushy and now almost empty. Most of the passengers seemed to have opted for an early night. The beat of the engines, happily drowning his murmuring ears, surrounded him protectively as the bright cosy air-conditioned ship moved smoothly onward through the waste of black waters, It was good to be going south. When he had been at Grayhallock lately a steady east wind had been blowing a rain of rose petals down on to the sodden levels of the Marsh. It was good to be going. 'Another drink, Mildred?
'I don't think so, said Mildred. She yawned and stretched shamelessly. 'I think I'll be off. I've ordered a bottle of Scotch and some milk in my cabin. Why not come and see me there before you go to bed? I'll give you a special whisky drink with cinnamon. It'll make you sleep.
'All right, said Hugh. 'I'll come along in twenty minutes or so.
What's the news of Beryl, by the way?
'They're getting married next month. Humpo will go, of course. Beryl Finch, to the general amazement, was getting married to a well-known barrister.
'I hope she'll get on with it, Mildred added. 'I'm dying to have more descendants. I'll be a fizzing grandmother.
'Confess you were surprised!
'About Beryl? Stunned. It was awfully good for me. One ought to expect life to be full of surprises.
'Ah — I've had all mine, he said sadly.
Mildred laughed. 'I wouldn’t be too sure! Well, be seeing you. She picked up her pile of picture-books of India and went off, ruffling Felix's hair as she passed him. She certainly seemed quite rejuvenated.
Hugh brooded quietly. He had a sense of everything being now in order. Or rather it was not yet quite in order, but a stage had been reached, a clearance had been made, and he felt as if he had only now, at his leisure, to put each thing neatly into its place. With this there came to him a comfortable sense of being justified.
He thought about Ann. He had spent, he felt, shortly before leaving, a quite reasonable amount of time at Grayhallock, and had really done his best to cheer her up. He had found, in fact, that she scarcely needed cheering, so immersed was she in the mysterious world of village life which seemed to him, over such trifles, so inordinately busy. Miranda being down with the German measles also gave Ann plenty to do in the house, which was perhaps just as well. He had arrived just in time to admire her winning entry in the flower arrangement contest, and to note, partly with relief and partly with a slightly shocked surprise, that she was doing everything as usual, was thoroughly back in her old bread-and-buttery routine, and seemed hardly to have noticed Randall's departure so little difference had it made to the shape of her days. Hugh thought, I wouldn't have behaved so if my spouse had left me, I'd have broken the place up. He felt almost a small resentment on Randall's behalf. But, for Ann, it doubtless did very well, and he was glad to be able to leave her with a clear conscience.
There was still no direct news of Randall. It appeared that he had left Rome, and there were rumors of his having been seen in Taormina and that he was trying to buy a villa there. Hugh felt no distress about his son, but only a sort of rather exhausted rather pleasurable feeling such as one might have after a successfully brought-off bout of illicit love-making. No one knew. It had been his own private coup, his own privately arranged alteration to the face of the world, the beautiful, extravagant, feckless setting of Randall free. He had been let out, like a wild bird, like a wild beast, and whatever should come of his more extended prowl his father did not feel that he would regret his act. He could be confident that Randall would slash the colour on. Happy or not, Randall would certainly live. And Hugh could now be demure with an untroubled heart. This crime squared him with the tipsy gods.