Lady Harman felt that one might adduce good arguments against this course if only one knew of them.
Sir Isaac had a bright idea. He rang.
"Snagsby," he said, "just tell Peters to pack up Lady Harman"s things...."
"_Well!_" said Lady Harman, as the door closed on Snagsby. Her mind was full of confused protest, but she had again that entirely feminine and demoralizing conviction that if she tried to express it she would weep or stumble into some such emotional disaster. If now she went upstairs and told Peters _not_ to pack----!
Sir Isaac walked slowly to the window, and stood for a time staring out into the garden.
Extraordinary b.u.mpings began overhead in Sir Isaac"s room. No doubt somebody was packing something....
Lady Harman realized with a deepening humiliation that she dared not dispute before the servants, and that he could. "But the children----"
she said at last.
"I"ve told Mrs. Harblow," he said, over his shoulder. "Told her it was a bit of a surprise." He turned, with a momentary lapse into something like humour. "You see," he said, "it _is_ a bit of a surprise."
"But what are you going to do with this house?"
"Lock it all up for a bit.... I don"t see any sense in living where we aren"t happy. Perhaps down there we shall manage better...."
It emerged from the confusion of Lady Harman"s mind that perhaps she had better go to the nursery, and see how things were getting on there. Sir Isaac watched her departure with a slightly dubious eye, made little noises with his teeth for a time, and then went towards the telephone.
In the hall she found two strange young men in green ap.r.o.ns a.s.sisting the under-butler to remove the hats and overcoats and such-like personal material into a motor-van outside. She heard two of the housemaids scurrying upstairs. ""Arf an hour," said one, "isn"t what I call a proper time to pack a box in."
In the nursery the children were disputing furiously what toys were to be taken into the country.
Lady Harman was a very greatly astonished woman. The surprise had been entirely successful.
--3
It has been said, I think, by Limburger, in his already cited work, that nothing so excites and prevails with woman as rapid and extensive violence, sparing and yet centring upon herself, and certainly it has to be recorded that, so far from being merely indignant, and otherwise a helplessly pathetic spectacle, Lady Harman found, though perhaps she did not go quite so far as to admit to herself that she found, this vehement flight from the social, moral, and intellectual contaminations of London an experience not merely stimulating but entertaining. It lifted her delicate eyebrows. Something, it may have been a sense of her own comparative immobility amid this sudden extraordinary bustle of her home, put it into her head that so it was long ago that Lot must have bundled together his removable domesticities.
She made one attempt at protest. "Isaac," she said, "isn"t all this rather ridiculous----"
"Don"t speak to me!" he answered, waving her off. "Don"t speak to me!
You should have spoken before, Elly. _Now_,--things are happening."
The image of Black Strand as, after all, a very pleasant place indeed returned to her. She adjudicated upon the nursery difficulties, and then went in a dreamlike state of mind to preside over her own more personal packing. She found Peters exercising all that indecisive helplessness which is characteristic of ladies" maids the whole world over.
It was from Peters she learnt that the entire household, men and maids together, was to be hurled into Surrey. "Aren"t they all rather surprised?" asked Lady Harman.
"Yes, m"m," said Peters on her knees, "but of course if the drains is wrong the sooner we all go the better."
(So that was what he had told them.)
A vibration and a noise of purring machinery outside drew the lady to the window, and she discovered that at least four of the large motor-vans from the International Stores were to co-operate in the trek.
There they were waiting, ma.s.sive and uniform. And then she saw Snagsby in his alpaca jacket _running_ towards the house from the gates. Of course he was running only very slightly indeed, but still he was running, and the expression of distress upon his face convinced her that he was being urged to unusual and indeed unsuitable tasks under the immediate personal supervision of Sir Isaac.... Then from round the corner appeared the under butler or at least the legs of him going very fast, under a pile of shirt boxes and things belonging to Sir Isaac. He dumped them into the nearest van and heaved a deep sigh and returned houseward after a remorseful glance at the windows.
A violent outcry from baby, who, with more than her customary violence was making her customary morning protest against being clad, recalled Lady Harman from the contemplation of these exterior activities....
The journey to Black Strand was not accomplished without misadventure; there was a puncture near Farnham, and as Clarence with a leisurely a.s.surance entertained himself with the Stepney, they were pa.s.sed first by the second car with the nursery contingent, which went by in a shrill chorus, crying, "_We-e-e_ shall get there first, _We-e-e_ shall get there first," and then by a large hired car all agog with housemaids and Mrs. Crumble and with Snagsby, as round and distressed as the full moon, and the under butler, cramped and keen beside the driver. There followed the leading International Stores car, and then the Stepney was on and they could hasten in pursuit....
And at last they came to Black Strand, and when they saw Black Strand it seemed to Lady Harman that the place had blown out a huge inflamed red cheek and lost its pleasant balance altogether. "_Oh!_" she cried.
It was the old barn flushed by the strain of adaptation to a new use, its comfortable old wall ruptured by half a dozen brilliant new windows, a light red chimney stack at one end. From it a vividly artistic corridor ran to the house and the rest of the shrubbery was all trampled and littered with sheds, bricks, poles and material generally. Black Strand had left the hands of the dilettante school and was in the grip of those vigorous moulding forces that are shaping our civilization to-day.
The jasmine wig over the porch had suffered a strenuous clipping; the door might have just come out of prison. In the hall the Carpaccio copies still glowed, but there were dust sheets over most of the furniture and a plumber was moving his things out with that eleventh hour reluctance so characteristic of plumbers. Mrs. Rabbit, a little tearful, and dressed for departure very respectably in black was giving the youngest and least experienced housemaid a faithful history of Mr.
Brumley"s earlier period. ""Appy we all was," said Mrs. Rabbit, "as Birds in a Nest."
Through the windows two of the Putney gardeners were busy replacing Mr.
Brumley"s doubtful roses by recognized sorts, the _right_ sorts....
"I"ve been doing all I can to make it ready for you," said Sir Isaac at his wife"s ear, bringing a curious reminiscence of the first home-coming to Putney into her mind.
--4
"And now," said Sir Isaac with evident premeditation and a certain deliberate amiability, "now we got down here, now we got away a bit from all those London things with n.o.body to cut in between us, me and you can have a bit of a talk, Elly, and see what it"s all about."
They had lunched together in the little hall-dining room,--the children had had a noisily cheerful picnic in the kitchen with Mrs. Harblow, and now Lady Harman was standing at the window surveying the ravages of rose replacement.
She turned towards him. "Yes," she said. "I think--I think we can"t go on like this."
"_I_ can"t," said Sir Isaac, "anyhow."
He too came and stared at the rose planting.
"If we were to go up there--among the pine woods"--he pointed with his head at the dark background of Euphemia"s herbaceous borders--"we shouldn"t hear quite so much of this hammering...."
Husband and wife walked slowly in the afternoon sunlight across the still beautiful garden. Each was gravely aware of an embarra.s.sed incapacity for the task they had set themselves. They were going to talk things over. Never in their lives had they really talked to each other clearly and honestly about anything. Indeed it is scarcely too much to say that neither had ever talked about anything to anyone. She was too young, her mind was now growing up in her and feeling its way to conscious expression, and he had never before wanted to express himself.
He did now want to express himself. For behind his rant and fury Sir Isaac had been thinking very hard indeed during the last three weeks about his life and her life and their relations; he had never thought so much about anything except his business economics. So far he had either joked at her, talked "silly" to her, made, as they say, "remarks," or vociferated. That had been the sum of their mental intercourse, as indeed it is the sum of the intercourse of most married couples. His attempt to state his case to her had so far always flared into rhetorical outbreaks. But he was discontented with these rhetorical outbreaks. His dispositions to fall into them made him rather like a nervous sepia that cannot keep its ink sac quiet while it is sitting for its portrait. In the earnestness of his attempt at self-display he vanished in his own outpourings.
He wanted now to reason with her simply and persuasively. He wanted to say quietly impressive and convincing things in a low tone of voice and make her abandon every possible view except his view. He walked now slowly meditating the task before him, making a faint thoughtful noise with his teeth, his head sunken in the collar of the motor overcoat he wore because of a slight cold he had caught. And he had to be careful about colds because of his const.i.tutional defect. She too felt she had much to say. Much too she had in her mind that she couldn"t say, because this strange quarrel had opened unantic.i.p.ated things for her; she had found and considered repugnances in her nature she had never dared to glance at hitherto....
Sir Isaac began rather haltingly when they had reached a sandy, ant-infested path that ran slantingly up among the trees. He affected a certain perplexity. He said he did not understand what it was his wife was "after," what she "thought she was doing" in "making all this trouble"; he wanted to know just what it was she wanted, how she thought they ought to live, just what she considered his rights were as her husband and just what she considered were her duties as his wife--if, that is, she considered she had any duties. To these enquiries Lady Harman made no very definite reply; their estrangement instead of clearing her mind had on the whole perplexed it more, by making her realize the height and depth and extent of her possible separation from him. She replied therefore with an unsatisfactory vagueness; she said she wanted to feel that she possessed herself, that she was no longer a child, that she thought she had a right to read what she chose, see what people she liked, go out a little by herself, have a certain independence--she hesitated, "have a certain definite allowance of my own."
"Have I ever refused you money?" cried Sir Isaac protesting.
"It isn"t that," said Lady Harman; "it"s the feeling----"
"The feeling of being able to--defy--anything I say," said Sir Isaac with a note of bitterness. "As if I didn"t understand!"
It was beyond Lady Harman"s powers to express just how that wasn"t the precise statement of the case.
Sir Isaac, reverting to his tone of almost elaborate reasonableness, expanded his view that it was impossible for husband and wife to have two different sets of friends;--let alone every other consideration, he explained, it wasn"t convenient for them not to be about together, and as for reading or thinking what she chose he had never made any objection to anything unless it was "decadent rot" that any decent man would object to his womanfolk seeing, rot she couldn"t understand the drift of--fortunately. Blear-eyed humbug.... He checked himself on the verge of an almost archiepiscopal outbreak in order to be patiently reasonable again. He was prepared to concede that it would be very nice if Lady Harman could be a good wife and also an entirely independent person, very nice, but the point was--his tone verged on the ironical--that she couldn"t be two entirely different people at the same time.
"But you have your friends," she said, "you go away alone----"