“A service you did not need,” said Ninian. “Have you known all the time, Mother?”
“I could not know. I have thought it. I knew it was not any self of mine. And who could it have been? Who had an end to serve? Who — it is best to say it at once — sorted the letters when they came? Who was distraught and not in command of herself?”
“Then you were shielding Lavinia?”
“Well, I had no proof. And an unconscious self is a useful shield. There is no question of blame.”
“What have you to say, my daughter?”
“Nothing,” said Lavinia, in a sudden, hard tone, as if casting off a guise. “I thought it a service to you to hide the letter, a service to us all. Yes, and the greatest to myself. It would have saved us from wrong and wretchedness, as I saw the matter then.”
“Why did you not destroy it, as your grandmother said?”
“It might have transpired that Teresa had sent it,” said Lavinia, in an almost exasperated tone, as if this should be clear.
“But should we have suspected you? You of all people? You know we should not.”
“There would have been discussion and question. And the letters went through my hands, as Grandma has also said.”
“You thought we should find the letter in the end?”
“You would have gone through Grandma’s papers,” said Lavinia, with an open sigh.
“That is most of it,” said Selina. “And the rest I know. It was too much to destroy the letter. The wrong of it would have been too great. Poor child!”
“We must try to see her in that way,” said Ninian. “It is not as she has seen herself.”
“And not as you have seen her,” said Teresa. “That must be said. It may be at the root of everything.”
“The guilt is not mine. I had my own right to happiness. If I was making too large a part of hers, it was time I ceased. It was time indeed. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps I am partly to blame. It would help me to feel I was.”
“So I have been the cause of it all.”
“Not you yourself,” said Lavinia. “Anyone in your place.”
“You took a great risk. Few of us would have dared to take it. So much depends on our courage.”
“I am grieved to the heart,” said Ninian.
A low voice came from the door, where Miss Starkie stood with the children.
“Would you like to come upstairs, Lavinia?”
“No, thank you. Nothing would be gained.”
“You share my grief, Miss Starkie,” said Ninian. “It is especially yours and mine.”
“I can hardly believe it, Mr. Middleton. I feel it cannot be true.”
“We all felt in that way. It was forced upon us. Lavinia herself has said it now.”
“I don’t understand about it,” said Leah, in an undertone.
“I do,” said Hengist, half-smiling. “I will tell you upstairs.”
“You will not,” said Miss Starkie, in an unfamiliar tone. “You will neither of you utter a word of it, now or ever. It is a thing you will not dare to do.”
“I haven’t said a word,” said Agnes. “I knew it was that kind of thing.”
“We are not always with her,” said Hengist, glancing at Miss Starkie.
“I trust you,” said the latter, looking at him. “You must be worthy of trust.”
“Are you worthy?” said Leah in a whisper.
“No. And it is no good to try to be, when you are not.”
“Not even Lavinia seems to be,” said Leah, her tone awed.
“I must speak at last,” said Hugo to Egbert. “Have we to believe it?”
“Yes. The idea had occurred to me. But I thought it could not be.”
“It can’t. Not as it seems. It was fate, her father, anything. She is a pawn in the game.”
“Lavinia could not be a pawn. She laid her plan. She was serving the common cause.”
“Her own first of all. That was rare and resolute in her. It is so unusual to serve ourselves. All the talk is of serving others. It draws me closer to her. Teresa saw something of the truth. Would you have dared to do it?”
“No, or perhaps I might have. As I say, the thought had struck me. So I must have felt it possible. Is it a protection to have no courage?”
“Should you not say a word to the person who showed it?”
“Yes, I have planned the word. It is what I have been doing. I hope it will not fail.”
Egbert moved to his sister.
“Lavinia, I have seen you as the heroine of a drama. And you have emerged as the opposite. But it is the latter who carries our sympathy. Think of the examples in books, the very best ones.”
“Well, is this a case in life?” said Lavinia, holding her eyes from him, and unconscious of her clenched hands. “I hardly think it will be. But it is a clever word.”
“It is an honest one. It comes from my heart. And I could not have faced the danger. I should simply have been afraid. What a waste it has been!”
“I forgot that one thing we are known to forget. Or are found to have forgotten, when it has betrayed us. In my case the envelope with the paper-knife. Perhaps it shows I am not hardened.”
“You have needed to be. Dire things have come upon you.”
“I have simply not realised them. I don’t realise what is on me now. You are remembering things I said. I can see they are coming back to you. I shall never be trusted again. I shall live under a cloud. But perhaps no one is trusted much. Or I can try to think so.”
“Grandma emerges as a great figure. I feel I have not known her.”
“And have not known me. I suppose she has known us all. I half-fancied she suspected. Or I think now that I did. But I somehow felt I was safe with her. I almost felt I had her sympathy. Unless I imagine that too.”
“I like the wisdom after the event,” said Hugo. “It tends to be real wisdom. The other has so often to be disowned.”
“How I envy you both!” said Lavinia. “For your ease both now and for the future.”
“If I inspired envy, it would be for a negative reason.”
“I am thinking of Father,” said Egbert. “And so are both of you. I wonder what he really feels.”
“He has not disguised it,” said Lavinia. “You can be in no doubt.”
“It was a moment of shock. He can hardly be judged by it.”
“Well, things are comparative. I had not thought of the moments for him. It was an unusual one for you all.”
“What was it for Miss Starkie?” said Hugo. “Somehow we are not sure.”
“That is still before me. Grandma was easy; Father was obvious; you are yourselves. And all of you are over. I don’t know what she will be.”
“And I am myself,” said Teresa’s voice. “I see no reason to be different. You minded my coming as much as this?”
“I could not face the loss of my father. It seemed to break up my world. You remember I did not know you. You will not want to know me, now that you do.”
“As much as ever. Even more than I did. We all have it in us to do those things. There have been times when I might have done them, if I had dared. But you had no fear?”
“I had a greater one. And it was also as Grandma said. It need not be said again. She knows the confusion in us. She knows too much ever to be really surprised. Well, you must all be learning.”
“I should always be surprised,” said Hugo. “I am so surprised by this, that I don’t believe in it. It has no truth. It was the result of the stress of things. You were forced out of yourself.”
“Or into myself. I meant the wrong to be hidden. And in that case we might all become ourselves. I try to think Teresa is right.”
“Would you say it to Father, Teresa?” said Egbert. “Think of him and think of Lavinia.”
“Not of us both together,” said his sister. “There is no reason to give rein to thought. And now he and I will be apart. Well, you may say I have brought it all on myself.”