Julia got Jimmy Latter alone after breakfast next morning. He was smoking a pipe on the terrace, and she dragged him into the study and shut the door. Lois had altered the drawing-room almost beyond recognition—new covers, new curtains, new carpets, new ornaments, and all the furniture moved around and changed. But she hadn’t started on the study yet. There were the old shabby rugs on the floor, the old brown curtains at the windows, the old shabby books on the shelves. Of course no one ever studied here or ever had, but it was Jimmy’s room, and it had been his father’s before him, and Julia felt a lot better when she had got him there and the door was shut. She would have locked it if she could, but the key had been lost a long time ago, nobody knew how or when.
She sat on the arm of one of the big chairs and said, “Jimmy, I want to talk to you about Ronnie.” Antony had always told her she hadn’t any tact, and when she flung back, “But what’s the good of beating about the bush? If I’m going to say a thing I say it,” he usually laughed and said, “You’re telling me!”
Well, she had said what she had come to say, and Jimmy was frowning, his pipe in his hand and the smoke going up between them. Even before he spoke she knew that Lois had got in first.
“You know, Julia, it won’t do—having him here, I mean. It simply won’t do. Of course it’s natural Ellie should want it, and I’d be pleased enough to have him, poor chap—you know that. But, as Lois says, Ellie would kill herself looking after him. You’ve only to look at her to see she’s not fit for it. Why, the poor chap’s a cripple—she couldn’t possibly manage. I tell you I’m very worried about her as it is. Here she is, at home, with every comfort, and Lois to look after her, and she looks like a ghost—no colour, no spirits. And you want her to take on a heavy nursing job like that. I won’t hear of it!” Julia’s cheeks flew two red flags. She had very seldom been so angry. She had just sense enough to know that if she wanted to play Ellie’s game she mustn’t let her temper go. If it had been a game of her own, she would have thrown the cards on the table with a will and counted it well lost for the pleasure of saying what she thought about Lois. But it was Ellie’s game.
Her cheeks flamed and her eyes smouldered, but she controlled her tongue. Jimmy, looking at her a little uneasily, was struck by her likeness to Marcia. And he had not only been very fond of Marcia, but he had respected her judgment. This, and the likeness, began insensibly to colour his thoughts. Julia’s silence gave them time. When she spoke at last, her voice was pitched quite low.
“Jimmy—do you remember what staff you had here before the war?”
He said, “That’s a long time ago. Everything’s different now.”
“I know. But all the same, do you remember? There was Mrs. Maniple, with a kitchenmaid under her, and the between-maid after twelve o’clock, and Mrs. Huggins to scrub the floors. That’s on the kitchen side. For the rest of the house there was a butler, house-parlour maid, housemaid, the between-maid till twelve o’clock, and Mrs. Huggins any time there was extra work—people staying, or spring-cleaning— all that kind of thing.”
He took an angry pull at his pipe.
“What’s the good of talking like that? Everyone’s had to cut down.”
“I know they have. But just think for a minute, Jimmy, and you’ll see why Ellie looks tired. She and Minnie are doing what it used to take a man and three maids to do.”
“You’re leaving Lois out.”
Julia looked at him.
“Yes—I’m leaving Lois out.”
He turned away, went off to the writing-table, and stood there with his back to her, picking up first one thing and then another from a crowded pen-tray—picking them up and dropping them again with flustered, jerky fingers. When he turned round his face was red. He said angrily,
“What do you mean by that?”
Julia’s right hand lay clenched in her lap. She drove the nails into her palm. She mustn’t let Jimmy see that she was angry too. She couldn’t manage him that way. Mummie never got angry with him or with anyone. That was why everyone listened to her. If only things didn’t boil inside you until you felt you didn’t care—
She’d got to care about Ellie. She managed such a temperate, reasonable voice that it surprised her.
“Look here, Jimmy, I don’t want to have a row—I want to talk. I just want you to listen, that’s all. Lois does the flowers—that’s all she does in the house. It isn’t anything to be angry about—it’s a fact. It’s her house, and there isn’t any reason why she should do more than she wants to. She hasn’t ever lived in the country before. She’s been so much in hotels that perhaps she just doesn’t know what a lot there is to do.”
She began to feel pleased with herself. She was letting Jimmy down lightly, and who said she hadn’t any tact? She went on, warming to it.
“I’ve got a really good plan, and it wouldn’t cost very much—it really wouldn’t. If you would have Mrs. Huggins here every day instead of just once a week for Manny, it would make all the difference. You see, neither Minnie nor Ellie are what you’d call strong. They haven’t the muscle for the heavy jobs, and they get awfully tired doing them. But Mrs. Huggins is as strong as a horse—she’d just gallop through the work. And Minnie and Ellie could do the lighter things.”
Jimmy had stopped being angry. He looked puzzled.
“But Mrs. Huggins does come. I’ve seen her.”
“She comes on Saturdays, and she scrubs Manny’s floors. She doesn’t do anything else.”
He said in a worried voice,
“I thought she did. And there’s a girl—Joe Marsh’s wife— I’ve seen her about.”
“She does sewing for Lois.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t help in the house?”
“Quite sure.”
She left that to sink in.
“Jimmy—about Ronnie—I do want you just to listen. If Ellie hadn’t the hard work, and those bicycle-rides to Crampton which are much too much for her, I do think she could manage Ronnie. It would make her happy, and you can do a lot when you’re happy… No, please listen. He gets about on a crutch now. If you let them have the old schoolroom, he wouldn’t need to go upstairs at all. The beds could come down from our old room, and there’s the cloakroom just opposite. It would all be quite easy, and—oh, Jimmy, it would make Ellie frightfully happy! You’ve always been so kind to us.”
She wasn’t angry any more. She was remembering all the times that Jimmy had been kind—a long procession of them, stretching back, and back, and back until they were out of mind. This warm remembrance filled the room. The look she gave him was a lovely smiling one.
He came over to her and put his arm about her shoulders.
“Well, well, my dear—I’ll see. Very nice of you to put it like that. Very nice to have you here again. I’ve missed you very much. Haven’t given me much opportunity of doing anything for you the last two years, have you? But we’ll see what we can do about Ellie. She’s fretting, is she?”
“She’s breaking her heart.”
“Well, well, we can’t have that. I’ll do what I can.”
Jimmy—darling!”
Jimmy Latter rumpled his fair hair.
“Well, it seems quite a good plan. Julia says—”
Lois came up to him laughing and put her hand against his lips.
“Oh, my dear, if it’s Julia! No, Jimmy, really—I do call it the limit! She doesn’t come near us for two years, and then she comes sailing in and wants to turn the house upside down. After all, you know, it is our house.”
“Well, it is—”
She was still laughing.
“I’m glad you’ll admit that! But it wouldn’t be if you were to let Julia loose on it. She’s one of those energetic, upheaving sort of people, and I don’t honestly think we should care about being upheaved.”
Jimmy was frowning.
“She says Ellie’s breaking her heart.”
Lois sighed.
“She’s fretting about her husband. I don’t see how we can help that. She must try and pull herself together and not give way. She gets rather hysterical about it.”
Jimmy continued to frown.
“She oughtn’t to do too much. Julia says Mrs. Huggins only comes once a week. Couldn’t we have her every day?”
Those delicate brows of hers went up.
“I suppose we could—if Julia thinks we ought to. Is there anything else she would like to suggest? If there is, of course she has only got to mention it.”
Jimmy said rather shortly,
“I don’t think you ought to take it that way. It wasn’t meant like that.”
Lois laughed again.
“Oh, wasn’t it? I wonder how it was meant.”
She put her hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and kissed him on the chin.
“Now, darling, I want you to listen to me. Julia’s been down here for not quite twenty-four hours, and she proposes to rearrange everything and set us all to rights. It isn’t sense, you know. If I wasn’t a very sweet-tempered woman I should be angry. As it is, I can see she is one of those impulsive people who mean well. She’s very fond of Ellie, and she’s very fond of her own way. But really, darling, I can’t have her butting in like this. It’s beyond a joke.”
He put his arms round her.
“Look here, Lois, couldn’t we have Ronnie here—just for a bit?”
She drew away from him, her laughter gone.
“Oh, yes—if you want to break Ellie down. I suppose Julia thinks she is fit for that heavy nursing. I don’t. I think she wants rest and a change. As a matter of fact I’ve been going to speak to you about a plan of my own. We can’t really go on in this hugger-mugger way. I want to be able to ask people to stay, and to do some entertaining. It’s not quite settled yet, but I’ve heard of a really good butler and a couple of maids. They’ll cost the earth of course, but I think it’s time we got back to civilization. If Ellie likes to stay here, of course she can, but I think she’d be the better for a change. Ronnie can be transferred to a convalescent home, and she can take a room near him. I’d really rather not have extra people in the house whilst the new staff are settling down. By the way, I’ve heard of just the thing for Minnie Mercer. Brenda Grey’s aunt wants a companion. Minnie is the born companion— isn’t she?”
Jimmy stepped back.
“Wait a minute, Lois—what’s all this? About Minnie, I mean. She’s not going? There’s no reason for her to go.”
Lois was smiling.
“Darling, there’s no reason for her to stay. You could hardly expect her to work under the butler.”
“There would be no question of that. Minnie—why she’s been here for twenty-five years. She was Marcia’s friend. Why should she want to leave us?”
Lois shrugged, making a graceful movement of it.
“Don’t ask me! But I think she’s very wise. It saves me the trouble of giving her notice.”
“Notice?” Jimmy was gazing at her in a bewildered manner.
“Darling, quite frankly, she wouldn’t fit in. If she has the sense to realize it, we shall all be saved a lot of bother.” She smiled again and blew him a kiss. “Bear up, darling! You’ve no idea how nice it’s going to be to have the house running properly again.”
They were in the small sitting-room opening upon the formal garden. For more than two hundred years it had belonged to the lady of the house. So far Lois had left it as it had been when Marcia inherited it from her predecessor, Jimmy Latter’s mother, who had died at his birth. The pale brocaded curtains had been hung for her, the faded carpet had been laid for her girlish feet to tread upon, but most of the furniture was older than that. Lois planned to bring it up to date. Even as she blew that kiss to Jimmy she was mentally replacing the Empire couch by a well-sprung sofa and relegating a number of watercolour sketches to the attics. Jimmy had a sentimental attachment to them because they had been painted by his mother, but when the room was decorated they would have to come down, and she meant to see to it that they didn’t go up again.
Neither she nor Jimmy had heard the door open whilst they were talking. The hand which had opened it did not close it again. When Lois went out of the room she found it still ajar.
Antony ran into Minnie Mercer in the passage just outside his room—or rather it was she who ran into him, and he who avoided what might have been quite a collision by stepping back just in time. As it was, she blundered against his arm and he had to catch and steady her, or she would have fallen. It was then that the light from his open door showed him her face, quite white, quite rigid, the eyes fixed and almost colourless. He had not been through five years of war without knowing shock when he saw it. He kept his arm about her, took her into his room, shut the door, and put her into a chair. She did not seem to know what he was doing, but when he said, “What is it, Minnie?” her hands began to tremble. She sat stiffly upright and tried to keep them quiet in her lap, but they shook and went on shaking. Looking past him with her eyes on some distant point, she said,
“I shall have—to go.”
“Minnie dear!”
“She wants me to.”
“My dear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She said very slowly and stiffly,
“I’ve been here twenty-five years—but it’s no use—she’ll turn me out.”
Antony began to distinguish a pattern. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Minnie, you look all in. Lean back and rest whilst I get you something. Then if you like, you can tell me about it.”
She shook her head. Two slow tears overflowed and began to creep down towards her chin. She said,
“You can’t do anything—no one can do anything. If she has made up her mind to send me away, I shall have to go.”
He pulled up another chair and sat down beside her.
“How do you know she wants to send you away?”
The two slow tears dripped down upon her shaking hands. Others took their place, as pitiful and as unheeded. She didn’t turn her head, or look at him, or vary the tone of her voice.
“I went to the morning-room to ask her something—I forget what it was. When I opened the door I heard her say my name. She said, ‘I’ve heard of the very thing for Minnie. Brenda Grey’s aunt wants a companion. Minnie is the born companion.’ ”
Antony’s face had set, hard and dark.
“Who was she talking to?”
“Jimmy.” For the first time the stiff voice shook.
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t seem to understand.”
“Well?”
“She told him. She said I was going, and he wanted to know why. She made him think I wanted to go. She said what a good thing it was, because it would save her the trouble of giving me notice. There’s going to be a butler again, and she said I wouldn’t fit in. I know she has heard of two maids.”
“But, Minnie, you were here for years when there was a full staff.”
She said, “Twenty-five years—it’s a long time. But I helped Marcia, and when she died there were the girls. There won’t be any place for me now.”
He said, “Jimmy wouldn’t let her turn you out,” and hoped, without any certainty, that what he said was true.
She turned her face to him. The tears were still running down. The eyes had lost that fixed look. They were gentle and very sorrowful, and so was her voice.
“We mustn’t bring him into it, my dear. It wouldn’t do, you know. It doesn’t do to come between husband and wife. It isn’t right, and it only makes trouble. If she wants me to go, there isn’t anything I can do—except go.” Her hands were still shaking. She got up. “You have been very kind, Antony. I am sorry I gave way. I shouldn’t have done so if I had had time to collect myself. It was just the shock, and running into you like that, and—and your kindness.”
She went quickly out of the room, leaving a very angry young man behind her. It was all very well to say nobody could do anything, but he certainly wasn’t going to let it go at that. He thought probably the best chance lay in tackling Lois herself. You could work Jimmy up to the sticking point, but you couldn’t keep him there—not unless you got on to one of his half-dozen inhibitions. This business of turning Minnie out—well, would it stir one of them up, or would it not? It might. Very difficult to tell with Jimmy. He’d give in, and give in, and give in, and then quite suddenly you’d come up against something that wouldn’t budge an inch. He had seen it happen a dozen times—sometimes about the merest trifle, sometimes about a thing that really mattered. But small or big, all the incidents had something to do with Latter End…
The hospitality of his house—that might be ground on which Jimmy would stand and fight. Antony was tolerably certain that Lois would never get him to turn either Ellie or Julia from his door, charm she never so wisely. Whether this went for Minnie too was what he didn’t know. It might, but then again it mightn’t. Jimmy was incalculable. He thought he had better try Lois, and if it came to a row, he was going to get a good deal of satisfaction out of speaking his mind. Of course he would have to see Jimmy first, because he couldn’t give Minnie away. His knowledge of Lois’ plans must be acquired from Jimmy. Nothing easier of course, because Jimmy would be only too ready to pour the whole thing out to a sympathetic ear.
From his window he could see Lois on her way to the rose-garden with a basket on her arm. Ten minutes with Jimmy and he could follow her there. If there were going to be a row, the rose-garden would be an admirable place for it— well away from the house, and no interruptions.
Jimmy actually took a quarter of an hour, because he was so very much distressed that he had to be placated. He tramped up and down the study, rumpling his hair and demanding why Minnie should want to leave them after all these years.
“I thought she was fond of us all—I thought she was happy here. But Lois says she wants to leave—I can’t understand it.”
“Perhaps Lois could persuade her to stay.”
Jimmy brightened.
“Yes, yes—she can’t really want to go—Lois must persuade her!”
“I think she might. Minnie may have some idea that she isn’t wanted.”
This was as far as he dared go, but it had a very good effect. Jimmy fairly snatched at it.
“Oh, if that’s all! Women get these ideas into their heads. Minnie has never been one to put any value on herself. Very unselfish sort of girl—always was—ready to do anything for anyone. She might think she wasn’t going to be wanted. Now how can we put that right?”
“Would you think I was butting in if I talked to Lois about it?”
Jimmy brightened still more.
“No, of course not—why should I? A very good idea. You know, it upset me so much that I don’t feel I really got to the bottom of it. I don’t know when anything has upset me so much. I don’t like it, Antony—I don’t like it at all. Why—let me see—Minnie is three years younger than I am, and I’m fifty-one. She’s been here twenty-five years. Twenty-three— that’s what she was when she came, and a very pretty girl too. And she’s been like one of the family ever since. I can’t understand it at all. Go along and talk to Lois and see if you can get to the bottom of it.”
He found her in the most romantic setting. The beautiful Mrs. Latter in her rose-garden, the late summer sunshine bright on her auburn hair and the cool, flawless skin which never tanned or freckled. Her dress of honey-coloured linen blended pleasantly with the flowers in their September bloom. The basket on her arm was brimmed with roses in all the shades of coppery pink.
Antony’s sense of humour stirred angrily. A row would be a most glaring incongruity. Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary to have one. After all, Lois had a brain if she chose to use it. There really wasn’t any sense in upsetting Jimmy and stirring up all this fuss.
Lois smiled delightfully as he came up.
“How nice of you! I was just wanting someone to carry the basket.”
He took it.
“You like being waited on—don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“Jimmy tells me that you are arranging for quite a lot of it—butler and maids again.”
She snipped off another rose as she said carelessly,
“Yes—won’t it be a relief!”
Instead of dropping the rose into the basket she held it up for him to smell.
“Well? Won’t it?”
“Probably. At the moment Jimmy is considerably upset.”
She gave her rippling laugh.
“That’s because of Minnie. He’ll get over it. I hope you didn’t encourage him.”
“He didn’t need any encouragement. Look here, Lois, we’ve been pretty good friends, and we’ve never gone in for beating about the bush. Why are you outing Minnie? I know you told Jimmy that she wanted to go, but that won’t go down with me.”
“Darling, how fierce!”
“I want to know why you are doing it.”
She was snipping quite idly now, a leaf here, a dead bloom there. She threw him a smiling look.
“Well, you see, I think she’s been here long enough.”
“Why?”
“My dear Antony, she’s the born old lady’s companion, I’m not an old lady, and I don’t want a companion. To be perfectly frank, I don’t want Minnie. I don’t want her at meals, I don’t want to meet her about the house—she gets on my nerves. She can go and be a treasure to old Miss Grey.”
“And be eaten up alive like all the other companions she’s had for the last fifteen years or so!”
She laughed.
“Oh, Minnie won’t mind that. She just asks to be trodden on.”
Antony was silent for a moment. Then he said,
“Do you know, Lois, I wouldn’t push Jimmy too far over this. I’ve known him all my life, and he can be—unexpected. I’ve got an idea that this is one of the things it would be better—” He hesitated for a word, and she took him up.
“Better for whom, darling?”
He said,
“You.”
“Really, Antony!”
“Lois, listen! Jimmy thinks the sun rises and sets by you— you’ve got him eating out of your hand. You think you know him—you think he’s easy, and so he is—up to a point. I’m telling you you’d better not drive him past that point. If you do, he may be—incalculable.”
She gave a scornful laugh.
“All this fuss about Minnie Mercer! As if she mattered twopence!”
His eyes dwelt on her with a curious appraising look.
“Don’t be stupid. You’re not a stupid woman, so don’t pretend you are. Jimmy’s got his loyalties. I’m telling you that you’d better respect them. If you don’t you may find you have smashed something you can’t put together again. If you don’t want Minnie to meals, give her a sitting-room of her own—she’d love it. She wouldn’t want to meddle with your parties—she’d be only too pleased to keep out of the way. And she’d make herself useful. I know she did all the mending for Marcia and the house.”
“Thank you—Gladys Marsh does all the sewing I want. And she amuses me. You should hear her on the village. No, it’s no use, Antony. And you had better not go on, or you’ll make me angry. I don’t want to be angry.” She looked at him sweetly and broke into a laugh. “I’d have been raging if it had been anyone else, but you mustn’t take advantage of my having a soft corner somewhere for you.” She came closer. “I have, you know.”
He said in a hard, even tone,
“Minnie has been here a long time.”
The clear, natural colour brightened in Lois’ cheeks. She kept her voice silky.
“And she’s in love with Jimmy. Why don’t you say it, darling? She’s been in love with him for all that long time you keep harping on. I don’t find it exactly a recommendation, you know.”
Antony was smiling. If Julia had been there she would have known just how angry he was when he smiled like that.
“My dear Lois, are you asking me to believe that you are jealous of Minnie? I really would like you to be serious, if you don’t mind. We in this family have been Minnie’s family for twenty-five years. We are the only family she has got. We rather take her for granted, and we all impose on her a good deal, but we are very fond of her. She loves us all a great deal better than we deserve. She adores Jimmy. It is all on such a simple, humble plane that the most jealous person in the world couldn’t take exception to it. Be generous and leave the poor little thing alone. It’s going to pretty well kill her if you tear her up by the roots. Jimmy has never thought of her except as part of the family. Let her alone there, and he never will.” The smile had gone. The dark face was earnest.
Lois put up the rose she held and flicked him lightly on the cheek.
“You ought to have been called to the Bar, darling. I feel exactly like a jury. And now I’ve got to consider my verdict.”
“Reconsider it, Lois.”
She said,
“We’ll see. Come and help me do the flowers.”