“Someone might have been led away from it,” said Eliza. “But everything is as it should and would have been.”
Osbert met Hermia’s eyes and raised his own towards Sir Robert; and she turned and gave the letter to her father. He read it, glanced from her to Osbert and looked away.
“Whatever is it?” said Eliza. “Let us hear and be at peace. We are being teased without any reason.”
“It is an offer of marriage,” said Sir Robert, “dependent on an answer within a given number of days. It has not been answered, and a refusal is implied which of course means nothing.”
“Yes, it is true,” said Osbert. “That is how it is. I worded the offer as you say, so that, if Hermia did not accept it, she need send no reply. I had none, and assumed it was not accepted. Now I don’t know what to say or think.”
“You need do neither,” said Eliza. “It is all as if it had not been. You stand as you were before this odd little episode.”
“I hope not quite. Hermia had not seen the letter. She has seen it now. I hope there is a difference.”
“I am going to offer a solution,” said Madeline. “Of course I can only hazard it. Someone opened the letter by mistake, felt guilty and said nothing, but put it where Hermia would find it. He might not even have seen what was in it.”
“He probably had not,” said Eliza. “A person who opened a letter by accident — and there go we all — might be the last who would read it. His feeling so guilty about it points that way.”
“Are we sure of the culprit’s sex?” said Angus. “Does it have to be mine?”
‘I seem to feel it is. I am somehow sure of it. It may be reluctance to attribute the trouble to my own.”
“Then it must be someone we employ,” said Madeline. “Though one hardly likes to suggest it.”
“I think we will not suggest it,” said Eliza quietly, “of someone helpless and not here. Now would you all like to return to the games? They may be a protection for those who need it. They would give them cover.”
“Is not the moment for them past?” said Jocasta, who had heard in silence, and now turned to say a word to her grandchildren. “Nothing is certain and we will say nothing. Our words might neither add to hers nor become us as guests.”
“Grannie has risen on a dead self to higher things,” murmured Osbert. “The self we saw earlier to-day was a stepping-stone.”
“If Hermia married she would need her income for herself,” said Erica. “And might withdraw it from her family. And it applies to other people. Of course there were reasons, and the ruse held no risk. Madeline’s solution would have served. But they do not serve me.”
“Osbert would surely have tried again,” said Madeline.
“He might not,” said Hermia, “when a refusal was almost recommended, and for which he had paved the way.”
“I was being selfless,” said Osbert. “I thought it might strengthen my case.”
“Hardly an object to result from selflessness,” said Erica.
“I am leaving you for a moment, to give you full freedom of speech,” said Eliza. “It seems to me a case for it. You can think or say anything, and even more, say what you think. You can begin with me as the possible culprit, and hold to me if you choose. That would be successful thought and bring credit.” She gave a little laugh. “So I leave you to your situation.”
There was a pause.
“Only one of us has told us it was she who did it,” said Amy gravely. “And we seem to pass it over.”
“How did Lady Heriot know what kind of letter it was?”
“How does anyone know that about letters?” said Angus.
“Do you mean she opens them?” said Madeline.
“Tell me of another method,” said Angus.
“How did she know it was one that concerned herself?”
“She did not know. She was finding out.”
“So you mean she does open letters?”
“No, only those that excite her interest.”
“Can you understand her doing it?”
“Yes, I think so. Most letters excite mine.”
“But you would not open them?”
“No. I never risk trouble for myself.”
“What if you knew no trouble would come of it?”
“I should not like imagining people’s thoughts of me.”
“But that is trouble. What if there could be none?”
“I like to see myself in a certain way. As free from real guilt.”
“Oh, I don’t think that need be the word,” said Madeline.
“It is the word. What other word is there? It is not as I am. We must all be protected from the truth.”
“Is there something you would be afraid of?”
“One thing. Of being found out.”
“Yes, of course,” said Hermia. “We are all afraid of it. There are things we are right to fear.
“Of course she would have seen it,” said Eliza meanwhile to her husband. “Where was it but in her own desk? Why should she have a desk if she did not use it? She can make her own decision now. If she regrets it, it will not be my fault.”
“It might have been your fault that she regretted something different. How would you have felt then?”
“That I had tried to save her from something she needed to be saved from. Anything that came of it would only have been what should have come.”
“Eliza, we can’t take other people’s lives into our hands like that. We might do deep and lasting harm. I can only be glad from my heart that we have not done it.”
“And what of the other harm that has been done? Will you be glad of that?”
“There can be no harm. None that should be seen as such. People have their lives in their own hands, and we see that they are better there. I wish from my heart that you had not done what you did.”
“And what of the other things that I have done? Do you wish I had not done them?”
“You know I am grateful from my heart for them. I have taken them feeling it was safe to take them. Can I feel it is always safe? Was it safe this time?”
“Yes, to my mind it was. I have told you what I can. I will tell you no more. I have said and borne enough.”
Eliza broke off at a sound from the door, glanced round and was still for a moment, and then sank into a chair and hid her face in her hands. Sir Robert followed her eyes and met those of Hermia and Osbert, who stood in the doorway with Madeline and the younger pair behind them.
“We came to say we were engaged,” said Hermia. “And we have come on something different. Something that is at once to do with it and apart from it. We could not help hearing what it was. We heard before we knew.”
“Then I need say nothing,” said her father. “There is nothing to be said.”
“Father, you are making too much of it. It is hardly what you think. In a way what Mater says is true. When someone is taught through the years that anything she does must be right, it is no wonder if she comes to think that nothing she does can be wrong. In the end harm had to come of it. The real wonder is that it did not come before.”
“Then the fault is mine,” said Sir Robert, trying to control the change in his tone. “I am to blame and have always been.”
“Yes, in a sense you have, and so has she. In another you are both of you innocent though it is an innocence rooted in your wishes for your own lives. We must leave it there.”
“I am sure I am innocent,” said Eliza, looking up and using her normal tones. “Anything I have ever thought or done has been for the good of you all. And there will be more for me to think and do, if there is to be a wedding on the way.”
“And there is,” said Sir Robert, moving to embrace his daughter and shake Osbert’s hand. “It is the first in our family, and an event in our family life. It will open up the future and take us forward.”
“Yes, it will,” said Eliza. “A marriage goes beyond itself. It will bring its changes, and they should all be welcome ones. I feel the time is ripe for them.”