‘Couldn’t you even speak?’ said Honor to her father.
‘Not so that people knew what I meant.’
‘Then they couldn’t do what you wanted?’
‘That was the worst, my little woman. You would have found it out, wouldn’t you?’
‘He would too,’ said Nevill.
‘She couldn’t have, if she didn’t know what you said,’ said Gavin.
‘Ah, the eyes of love can divine a good deal,’ said Fulbert.
‘Then didn’t the people who were with you — didn’t they like you very much?’ said James, in a high, hardly articulate tone.
‘Not as much as my own girls,’ said Fulbert, putting Isabel’s arm about his neck, and a moment later doing the same with Venice’s.
‘Not as much as him either,’ said Nevill.
‘The voyage must have done a good deal for you, Father,’ said Luce. ‘You are thinner and a little older, but you are yourself.’
‘If I were not, you would not see me. I would not have offered you a ghost or a scarecrow for a father.’
‘If Honor couldn’t see you until you were well, she couldn’t have done what you wanted,’ said Gavin.
Fulbert lifted Honor’s hand to his cheek.
‘I wish Father would arrange some caresses for himself from me,’ said Graham. ‘He lets me seem so coldhearted.’
‘My Isabel can’t look at her father enough,’ said Fulbert.
‘He looks at Father too,’ said Nevill. ‘He likes to look at him.’
‘Now you may have these photographs for yourselves,’ said Fulbert. ‘Would you like to divide them or share them?’
‘Share them,’ said James, at once.
‘That is always a good way.’
‘I should like that one with you in it, Father,’ said Isabel.
Fulbert withdrew it and put it into her hand.
‘Mother gave me a photograph of you on the day you went away,’ said Venice.
‘Well, here is another on the day I come back.’
‘You gave me one of yourself on that day,’ said Honor, bringing about a similar result.
James’s eyes rested on the photographs in some doubt of the fate of his suggestion.
‘He would like a little picture,’ said Nevill.
‘Come and sit on my knee like Honor, and I will show them to you,’ said Fulbert.
Nevill moved forward and started back, gazed at his father, and after a moment ran to Ridley and climbed on his knee, as though he were the person interchangeable with Fulbert.
‘Now I must see what I can find in my pockets,’ said Ridley, holding to his line of playing a normal part. ‘Here is a purse and a notebook and a cigar case, and a gold pencil case with lead in it.’
Nevill looked from the objects to Ridley’s face.
‘It is better than a picture, isn’t it?’
‘Is the pencil real gold?’ said Gavin. ‘Did somebody give it to you?’
‘Yes, it was a present,’ said Ridley, not mentioning that the giver was Eleanor. ‘You can make it longer if you pull it.’
‘It moves,’ said Nevill, in a slightly uneasy tone, putting his hand towards it and drawing it away.
‘Pull it and see how long it is,’ said Ridley.
‘He will pull it,’ said Nevill, looking round before gingerly doing so, and breaking into nervous laughter as it yielded to his touch.
‘There is a loose leaf in the notebook,’ said Gavin. ‘I can read grown-up writing now; I can read it as well as Honor; I even like reading it. What is the matter? I can’t hurt a piece of paper. It doesn’t belong to the book.’
Ridley had started and grasped at the paper, but as Gavin moved away, he changed his manner and smilingly held out his hand.
‘I must ask for my property,’ he said.
‘Gavin, give it back at once,’ said Luce. We never read papers belonging to other people.’
‘It is only a list like Mother takes into the town. It isn’t even a long one.’
‘It is a memorandum,’ said Honor.
‘And as such, it fills a place in my life,’ said Ridley, still with hand extended.
‘I shan’t make any mistakes,’ said Gavin. ‘It is sometimes two or three words and sometimes more. What is the matter? You hurt me with your great hand.’
‘The moment has come for me to claim what is my own,’ said Ridley, in a tone that addressed the company.
There was a stir and murmur of protest, and eyes were turned to the man and the child.
‘“Arrange licence. Take house. Train and hotel”,’ read Gavin. ‘It is quite easy. There are only a few more lines. Each one is called an item. The word is printed on the page. I shan’t keep it a minute. Let me just read to the end.’ He eluded Ridley’s grasp and slipped into a space where he could not follow. ‘“Fulbert at Crown Inn from tenth to fifteenth. Keep paper as letter destroyed. Write from abroad, as if it were delayed and forwarded. Read and send lease.” Leave me alone. What harm can I do to a loose page?’
Ridley was leaning over the desk, his hand clutching the air above the paper. There was a silence that became a hush and then a stir. Fulbert rose and came towards Ridley and stood waiting for him to turn. Eleanor approached the group, and finding herself between the two men, moved nearer to her husband. Regan rustled forward, simply and fiercely accusing. Sir Jesse stood with his eyes shooting from under his brows, but so far reserving his word. Luce stood with a simply startled face. Faith watched from her place, her gaze fastened on her brother. Hope and Paul remained in their seats, now and then meeting each other’s eyes. Daniel came and stood by his parents, Graham and Isabel looked at Ridley, as if they could not hold themselves from following his experience. The children watched in different stages of comprehension, Gavin awaiting the reproach that was his due.
‘What is it?’ he whispered to Honor.
‘Nothing to do with you. It is not you who have done anything.’
‘Gavin didn’t mean to do it,’ said Nevill to his mother, feeling this to be an unlikely view.
‘So, Ridley,’ said Fulbert, speaking with his head lifted, and his eyes almost covered by their lids, ‘I have had this kind of friend.’
Ridley appeared to be preoccupied by the notebook and some loosened pages.
‘I didn’t tear the book,’ said Gavin.
‘If you will pardon me, you did,’ said Ridley, smiling at him in an absent manner.
‘Be quiet, and you will be forgotten,’ said Honor, to her brother.
‘So my letter arrived to time,’ said Fulbert, not changing his attitude.
Ridley kept his eyes on the book, carefully replacing the leaves.
‘The notebook is useful,’ said Regan. ‘And not for the first time. What would have happened when my son came home? His wife would have been his own.’
‘In name,’ said Ridley, in a gentle tone, his fingers still employed, and his eyes on them. ‘But we should have remained together. Your son would have had ground for any step he chose. Eleanor would have been happier in her own home with me. This house is no home to her. Why should I not think of her and myself?’ He seemed to keep his voice to its even note by an effort, as if he would not work himself up for his hearers. ‘Why should I only think of a man, whose sole thought of me was to put me to his service? Why should I serve him? Why did he think that I should? Why is he so much better than I?’
Sir Jesse thrust himself between Ridley and Regan, his hands falling at his sides, as if his emotions took all his powers.
‘You may cease to talk to my wife. Why should she hear and answer you? You may be silent in my house. And as you are the son of my friend, you may leave it at your own will. I will not speak to you of my son; I could not do so.’
Ridley turned as if to do Sir Jesse’s bidding, but as he passed him, paused and opened the notebook and drew something else from the back. He held it under Sir Jesse’s eyes, and then moved on and held it under Regan’s.