We went back to our pudding. Katherine had flushed: Charles smiled at her, but did not speak. He stopped the footman from filling his glass again. Most of us, after the questions ceased, had been glad of another drink, including Francis, who had been putting down his wine unobtrusively but steadily since dinner began.
The table became noisier than at any time that evening; the interruption seemed over; Charles’ neighbours were laughing as he talked.
Florence Simon plucked at my sleeve. She was a woman of thirty, with abstracted brown eyes and a long sharp nose; all through dinner I had got nowhere with her; whatever I said, she had been vague and shy. Now her eyes were bright, she had thought of something to say.
‘I wish you’d been at the dinner last Friday. It was much more interesting then.’
‘Was it?’ I said.
‘Oh, we had some really good general conversation,’ said Florence Simon. She relapsed into silence, giving me a kind, judicious, and contented smile.
7: Two Kinds of Anger
By half past eleven Katherine could speak to Charles at last. She had just said some goodbyes, and only Francis and I were left with them in the drawing-room.
‘It was atrociously bad luck,’ she burst out.
‘I was glad it didn’t go on any longer,’ said Charles.
‘It must have been intolerable,’ she cried.
‘Well,’ said Charles, ‘I was just coming to the state when I could hear my own voice getting rougher.’
‘The family have never heard anyone put Uncle Philip off before.’
‘I thought he was perfectly good-tempered,’ Charles replied. He was being matter-of-fact in the face of the excitement. ‘He’s merely used to being told what he wants to know.’
‘He’s still talking to Mr L in his study. There are several of them still there, you know,’ she went on.
‘Didn’t you expect that?’ Charles smiled at her.
‘It’s absolutely maddening,’ she broke out again, ‘this fluke happening just when Mr L was ready to accept it.’
Charles was silent for a moment. Then he said: ‘I’m not certain that he was.’
‘You told me so,’ said Katherine. ‘But still — you’re going to have a foul time. I wish to God I could help.’
She went on: ‘He thinks the world of Uncle Philip, of course. Did you notice that he pretended to have told him? He’d obviously just muttered “my son Charles is mumpish” and was hoping that nobody would notice that you never appeared in court—’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ said Francis. His voice was a little thick. In his embarrassment at dinner, he had been drinking more than the rest of us; now, when he wanted to be useful and protective, he looked as though the light was dazzling him.
Charles shook his head and said no.
‘You’re sure?’ said Francis, trying to speak with his usual crispness. Again Charles said no.
‘In that case,’ said Francis, ‘it might be wiser if the rest of us left you to it.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said Charles. ‘I’d rather Mr L found you all here.’
For a second it sounded as if he were trying to avoid a scene. Listening to his tone, I suddenly felt that that was the opposite of the truth.
He went on speaking to Francis. Katherine smiled at them anxiously, then turned to me.
‘By the way, according to your theory, the mass of people at dinner must have sounded very forbidding,’ she said. ‘Did you find a few who made it tolerable? When you actually arrived?’
The question was incomprehensible, and yet she was clearly expecting me to understand. ‘Your theory’: I could not imagine what she meant.
‘Don’t you remember,’ she said, ‘saying that to me the first time we met? When I was being shunted off to the Jewish dance. I won’t swear to the actual words, but I’m pretty certain they’re nearly right. I thought over them a good many times afterwards, you see. I wondered whether you meant to take me down a peg or two for being too superior.’
It was the sort of attentive memory, the sort of extravagant thin-skinnedness, that I should have become accustomed to; but a new example still surprised me just as much.
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Katherine, ‘I decided that you probably didn’t mean that.’
Then Mr March entered. He went straight to Charles, paying no attention to the rest of us: he stood in front of Charles’ chair.
‘Now you see what you’re responsible for,’ he said. Charles got up.
‘You know how sorry I am that you’re involved, Mr L,’ Charles said.
‘I haven’t got time to speculate whether you’re sorry or not. I’ve just been listening to my brothers telling me that you’re making a fool of yourself. As though I wasn’t perfectly aware of it already. I expressed exactly the same point of view myself but unfortunately I haven’t succeeded in making much impression on you.’
‘No one could have done more than you did.’
‘A great many people could have done enormously more. Do you think my father listened to Herbert when he got up to his monkey tricks and wanted to study music? An astonishingly bad musician he would have made if you can judge by his singing in the drawing-room when we were children. Hannah said that he was only asked to sing because he was the youngest child. Anyone else would have done enormously more. In any case, I never gave my permission as you appear to have assumed. You may have thought the matter was closed, but that doesn’t affect the issue.’
‘It’s no good reopening it, Mr L. I’m sorry.’
‘Certainly it’s some good reopening it. After tonight, I haven’t any option.’
Charles suddenly broke out: ‘You admit that tonight is making the difference?’
‘I never allowed you to think that the matter was closed. But in addition to that, I don’t propose to ignore—’
‘The position is this: when we were left to ourselves, you disapproved of what I wanted and you brought up every fair argument there was. If it had been possible, you know that I should have given way. Now other people are taking a hand. I know what they mean to you, but I don’t recognize their claim to interfere. Do you think I can possibly do for them what I wouldn’t do for you alone?’
‘You talk about them as if they were strangers. They’re treated better by an outsider who’s just married into us, like that abominable woman who married your cousin Alfred. They’re your family—’
‘They’ve no right to affect my life.’
‘I won’t have the family dismissed as strangers.’
‘I should feel more justified in going against your wishes — now you’ve been influenced by them,’ said Charles, ‘than when you were speaking for yourself.’ They were standing close together. There came a cough, and to my astonishment Francis began to speak.
‘Will you forgive me for saying something, Mr March?’ His face was pallid under the sunburn; there was a film of sweat on his forehead. But he managed to make himself speak soberly: the words came out strained, uncomfortable, but positive.
Mr March, who had been totally indifferent to his presence or mine, did not notice anything unusual. With a mixture of irritableness and courtesy, Mr March said: ‘My dear fellow, I’m always glad to hear your observations.’
‘I assure you,’ said Francis, uttering with care, ‘that Charles would have gone further to meet your wishes than for any other reason. I completely agree with you that he’s wrong to give up the Bar. I think it’s sheer nonsense. I’ve told him so. I’ve argued with him since I first heard about it. But I haven’t got him to change his mind. The only argument which would make him think twice was about the effect on yourself.’