Parents and Children Read online

  ‘I have not heard either of you say a reasonable word for days,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Mother, let them veil the occasion in their own way,’ said Luce.

  ‘Our boyish folly covers real feeling,’ said Graham, stating the truth of himself.

  ‘Would you like to be going with your father, Daniel?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Mother, don’t speak in that cold voice,’ said Luce, laughing, ‘It is not Daniel’s fault that Father has to leave us.’

  ‘He can answer my question nevertheless. Your father is going partly for his sake.’

  ‘It is a good thing that everything is easier when it is shared,’ said Daniel. ‘If there were enough of us, I suppose it would disappear.’

  ‘You would think there were enough,’ said Graham, dreamily.

  ‘I am tired of hearing nothing but nonsense,’ said Eleanor, with a break in her voice.

  ‘Graham, how many young men have heard their mothers use that tone!’

  ‘I daresay the larger number,’ said Eleanor, sighing.

  Sir Jesse broke again into song, and sang very low, as if unsure of the fitness of the words for the audience. Regan smiled with an indulgence that was more apposite than she knew, or betrayed that she knew; and Fulbert took up the song in a strong, metallic voice and with a certain gusto. Graham kept his eyes down, as if he could only meet the manifestation with discomfiture, and Sir Jesse flashed his eyes into his son’s and turned to his luncheon.

  Luce had sat with her eyes on the men, and now addressed her father, as if quietly putting behind her what she saw.

  ‘Father, is there any writing to be done? I had better undertake it, as my hand is clear.’

  ‘This is an awkward moment for Graham,’ said Daniel.

  ‘After my advantages,’ said Graham, in his absent tone.

  ‘I had a reminder of those only this morning,’ said Sir Jesse. ‘An account came with my breakfast. You had nothing at yours but what you could swallow.’

  ‘It is impossible of Graham,’ aid Daniel. ‘Simply eating at the table! He seems to live by bread alone.’

  ‘Be silent,’ said Sir Jesse, with sudden harshness. ‘I blush to think you have been brought up in my house.’

  ‘We have always had to blush for that,’ muttered Daniel. ‘But I did not think Grandpa would ever do so.’

  ‘Will neither of you speak again until you have something to say?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Would you have the lads dumb?’ said her husband.

  ‘It might strike many people as an improvement.’

  ‘Mother, you don’t mind what you say,’ said Luce, laughing under her breath.

  ‘You must grow up, my sons,’ said Fulbert. ‘I am leaving burdens upon you.’

  ‘I need not become a baby again to comfort Mother,’ said Graham.

  ‘It does not seem to have that result,’ said Fulbert. ‘Well, do any of you give a thought to my exile?’

  ‘Many thoughts, Father,’ said Luce, ‘but we are not to help it. We are sad to our hearts, but we do not feel guilty.’

  ‘That must be wonderful,’ said Graham.

  ‘We ought to feel grateful,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘That involves guilt,’ said Daniel. ‘It seems grasping to have so much done for you.’

  ‘I suppose that is what it is about gratitude,’ mused Luce. ‘I have wondered what it is, that takes from it what it ought to have.’

  ‘I should always be glad of a chance of feeling it,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘That is a sign of a generous nature,’ said Regan, who was direct in tribute to her family.

  ‘Father does not say he has had the chance,’ said Daniel.

  ‘He is a proud man,’ said Graham.

  ‘Do you wish you were old enough to help your father, Daniel?’ said Sir Jesse.

  ‘I should like to be considered to be so, if it would mean my going with him.’

  ‘What is your reason for desiring it?’

  ‘It would make a change,’ said Daniel, keeping his face grave.

  ‘That shows you are not old enough,’ said his mother at once.

  ‘That is not your father’s reason for leaving us.’

  ‘No, but it will be one of the results.’

  Regan gave a laugh and Eleanor looked at her.

  ‘You are too kind to them, Lady Sullivan. Their life in this house will hardly prepare them for the world outside.’

  ‘I never feel that that sphere is as bad as it is painted,’ said Daniel.

  ‘You can talk of it when you are qualified,’ said Sir Jesse.

  ‘Grandpa does not set us the example,’ murmured Graham.

  ‘Your experience of it at Cambridge has not taken you far,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘No, Mother dear, but farther than you titiink,’ said Luce. ‘Cambridge would be a miniature world.’

  ‘I am to have a good, long glimpse of a far corner of the real one,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘I shall have to be father as well as mother here,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘There goes the attention from Father again,’ said Daniel, while Graham gave a glance at Fulbert.

  ‘Hatton will be both to the little ones,’ said Luce.

  ‘Don’t you know more about it than that?’ said her mother. ‘But that is how it would be, I suppose. The nurse who does it for a living is the one preferred. Mothers must learn that they come second.’

  ‘My dear, do not talk without sense,’ said Fulbert. ‘You do not make the affairs of childhood your province. You cannot shine in a sphere where you have not chosen to function.’

  ‘Do you want a nurse for your children, or a mother?’

  ‘I want both, and my children have them. And I hope they also have a father. But we must not claim other people’s credit.’

  ‘I suppose I may have my own. I can expect a little recognition in the family that takes my life.’

  Regan looked on without a change of expression, as though having no feeling that would cause one. She had neither pity nor blame for a woman who gave way under the demand of her family. She had never done so herself, but to her the family was the only thing that did not produce such a result.

  ‘We know what you give us, my dear,’ said Sir Jesse to Eleanor. ‘You do not think we do not?’

  ‘If feelings are always covered we may not remember them.’

  ‘They are no less safe like that, Mother,’ said Luce.

  ‘I know they are there, my dear. I ought not to need to be reminded.’

  ‘Father,’ said Luce, turning her eyes on Fulbert’s face, ‘what did you mean by saying that Mother did not make the affairs of childhood her province?’

  ‘I meant what I said, my dear, as I generally do.’

  ‘It is true that I give less time to these children than I gave to the elder ones,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Why do you, Mother?’ said Luce, transferring her eyes.

  ‘I seem to have less to give. You are in so many different stages. And I may have lost my knack or my zest as the years passed,’ said Eleanor, who spoke of herself with the same honesty as of other people. ‘And when the habit is broken, there is little to be done. My younger children are shy of me.’

  ‘No, Mother, I don’t think they are.’

  ‘They behave as if they were.’

  ‘Mother, I think it is better to be at your best with your elder children,’ said Luce. ‘It is when they are older that they need understanding. There is little that cannot be done by nurses for young children.’

  ‘That is assumed in our class,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘You sound as if you do not approve of it, Father.’

  ‘I don’t know that I know much of the subject,’ said Fulbert, with a suggestion that further knowledge would hardly add to him.

  ‘Graham has always had his mother’s influence,’ said Daniel. ‘It almost seems a case where nothing can be done.’

  ‘Boys, you might be monotonous,’ said Luce. ‘I don’t know how you contrive to b
e amusing.’

  ‘I do not either,’ said Sir Jesse. ‘You might have the goodness to inform me.’

  ‘Grandpa, you have had enough of them,’ said Luce, with swift compunction. ‘We forget we are not natural members of your house.’

  ‘Indeed you are,’ said Regan.

  ‘Grandma has said one of those little words that will be remembered,’ said Graham.

  ‘As neither of you seems about to leave the table, I will do so myself,’ said Sir Jesse.

  ‘No, Grandpa, you will not,’ said Luce, leaning forward and putting a hand on his arm. ‘You will stay here and have your smoke and talk with Father.’

  ‘A strong man is checked in his course by a woman’s hand,’ said Graham.

  ‘Will you both be silent?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Boys, you are upsetting Mother,’ said Luce.

  ‘I was always afraid that Graham would grow up to be a grief to her.’

  Sir Jesse rose and walked from the room.

  ‘Boys, look at that,’ said Luce.

  ‘I saw it myself,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘Do you hear what I say, or do you not?’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Graham, answer your mother,’ said Daniel.

  ‘You can answer me yourself,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘No, you are mistaken, Mother. I am at a loss.’

  ‘This is one of your worse moments, my boy,’ said Fulbert, with his air of enjoyment.

  ‘He can easily put an end to it,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Why am I not struck dead,’ said Daniel, ‘if that is a thing that has happened to people?’

  Regan’s deep laugh sounded through the room.

  ‘I wish Grandpa had stayed to hear that laugh,’ said Luce.

  ‘I wish he had done so for any reason,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Daniel, I am waiting to be answered,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Surely not still,’ said her son.

  ‘You have staying power, my dear,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘I forget what you asked now, Mother,’ said Luce.

  ‘Oh, you are not equal to your mother, child,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘Your brothers do not forget, and it was to them I spoke,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Mother, when you speak in that tone, I defy anyone to face you without flinching,’ said Luce.

  ‘I do not accept the challenge,’ said Daniel.

  ‘There is no real cause for annoyance, Eleanor, my dear,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘I hope your father is of that opinion.’

  ‘I am sure he is,’ said Regan, in an easy tone.

  ‘Yes, Grandma, so somehow am I,’ said Luce.

  ‘In case he is not, it may be as well to avoid risk in future,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘Yes, Father, I would not put it more strongly than that,’ said Luce.

  ‘I think I would,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘Mother, do thaw,’ said Luce. ‘Your sons are not a pair of criminals.’

  ‘They are penniless boys, who are doing no good to themselves.’

  Regan looked at her grandsons almost with compunction, as if it were a natural ground for resentment, that other people should have more than they had.

  ‘Yes, I suppose that is an accepted handicap,’ said Luce, in a musing tone. ‘To be penniless. And yet I would not have people modify their actions too much because of it. I do not think I would.’

  ‘There is no harm in young men’s being well-behaved to an old one,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘No, Father. But is it a fair accusation? What exactly is the boy’s misdeed? I mean essentially. Not at the moment.’

  ‘The fact of their existence,’ said Fulbert. ‘The sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.’

  Luce gave a series of slow, little laughs, keeping her eyes from her mother.

  ‘Their grandfather wants what is best for them,’ said Regan.

  ‘Graham, Grandma has dropped her handkerchief,’ said Luce, without a break in her tone, and hardly changing the direction of her eyes. ‘Are we to expect Grandpa to take the same attitude towards the other boys?’

  ‘The younger ones often remain the younger ones,’ said Eleanor.

  ‘That sounds a cryptic remark, my dear,’ said Fulbert, ‘but I recognize the truth it contains.’

  ‘Are not the schoolroom children coming down today?’ said Luce.

  ‘I have just sent word that they need not come,’ said Eleanor. ‘Missing their grandfather would only lead to questions.’

  ‘Their yoke is easy and their burden light,’ said Graham.

  ‘Mother, I will try again with Graham,’ said Daniel. ‘It cannot be that I shall always speak in vain.’

  ‘It is a fact that you do so at the moment, my boy,’ said Fulbert, in mingled enjoyment and apprehension.

  ‘Mother dear, relax,’ said Luce. ‘It is not good for you to remain in that wrought-up state.’

  ‘Come, come, my dear, things are not so bad,’ said Fulbert.

  ‘I cannot bear the ignorant quoting of sacred words.’

  ‘We see that you can’t, and so the lads will remember it.’

  ‘That should not be their reason for avoiding it.’

  ‘It should be one of them. And they know the others.’

  ‘Father, is Grandpa by himself?’ said Luce.

  ‘I daresay he is. Indeed he must be.’

  ‘Don’t you want to go to him, Father?’ said Luce, looking at Fulbert with mild amusement.

  ‘I have never heard that the sins of the children should be visited upon the fathers. But I can’t leave the old man to simmer on the hob, when he is in danger of boiling over.’

  ‘Grandpa is not a kettle, Father,’ said Luce, in a quiet tone.

  Regan laughed, and Fulbert ran round the table and gave her a kiss, and then did the same to his wife and daughter, and seemed about to run from the room, but did not do so.

  ‘I wonder if we shall realize that Grandpa is human, before – while we are all young about him,’ said Luce.

  ‘Before he becomes more than human,’ said Graham.

  ‘Yes, before that, boys,’ said Luce, in an unflinching tone.

  ‘It will be wasted when Grandpa understands all,’ said Graham.

  Regan rose and rustled from the room in some personal preoccupation. Eleanor dropped her eyes and remained still. Fulbert’s eyes flashed with rallying apprehension round the table. The silence held until it reached the stage at which it is impossible to break.

  ‘Graham, I do not remember that I forbade you to speak,’ said Daniel.

  Graham emitted a sound.

  ‘Cry, Graham, if you must. We shall understand.’

  Luce made an involuntary sound that served as a signal, and the brothers and sister rocked in mirth, or in some emotion that bore the semblance of it.

  Eleanor had her own reaction to such proceedings. She rose and appeared to engage herself with a bowl of flowers.

  ‘You boys can go and sit with your grandfather,’ she said, inserting a hand to gauge the depth of the water. ‘I want your father to myself for a time.’

  ‘Mother, do not hold yourself aloof,’ said Luce, in a voice that had not quite regained its steadiness. ‘Magnifying a matter is not the way to mend it.’

  ‘That sort of laughter is very easy to catch,’ said Eleanor, in a condoning manner that did her credit, considering that she had hardly found this the case herself. ‘But your father and I will be left to ourselves. We have many things to discuss.’

  ‘Well, let us begin on them, my dear,’ said Fulbert leaning back in his chair.

  Eleanor was silent for a moment.

  ‘It is strange that we can get so vexed with people who are so much to us.’

  ‘Not at all, when they give us cause. It was a good move to send the young jackanapes to their grandfather.’

  ‘Do you think it was a mean thing to do, that I was retaliating on them?’

  ‘No doubt you were, my dear. And it was the right thing. Why shouldn’t they l
earn that they get as good as they give?’

  ‘They ought not to learn it from their mother.’

  ‘They are happy to have from anyone what is best for them. And that is what a dose of the old man will be. I hope they are not queering their pitch with him.’

  This question was answered by the opening of the library door and the sound of Sir Jesse’s voice.

  ‘So I am held to be short of company. If you are engaged with your wife, I will have my own. I prefer a woman to half a man. I have sent the pair about their business, and I hope they will follow it.’

  ‘I will fetch Grandma for you, Grandpa,’ said Luce, coming forward. ‘Father thought it would be good for the boys to talk to you.’

  ‘So I shoulder the responsibility,’ said Fulbert, with an amused air.

  ‘I daresay,’ said Sir Jesse to his granddaughter, without a hint of disputing the idea. ‘But where is the benefit for me? I get my share of them.’

  ‘It is not the boys’ fault that they are not quite up to you, Grandpa.’

  ‘Nor mine either, as I see it. And I put it to their account that they are so far behind. We are all of us human or should be. In their case I begin to have doubt. Grinning and chattering like apes and costing like dukes!’

  ‘I wish you could forget how much they cost you, Grandpa,’ said Luce, fingering Sir Jesse’s coat.

  ‘I wish the same, but I get too many reminders. Other people seem to bear it in mind.’

  ‘It will not be for much longer, Grandpa. They are both in their last year at Cambridge.’

  ‘And where will they spend the next ones? Behind bars, I should think. I hope that will be less expensive.’

  ‘I should think it would be, Grandpa,’ said Luce, in a demure tone, making a little grimace and curtsy for the eyes of her brothers.

  ‘If we are fed by the public through a grating,’ said Daniel, ‘it will take our keep off Grandpa.’

  ‘We should still carry our debt to the grave,’ said his brother. ‘Or to Grandpa’s grave we should.’

  ‘Why does he mind supporting us, so much more than the others? I suppose because we are adult and male. None of the others is both.’

  ‘It seems odd that I should be both,’ said Graham. ‘Neither seems suited to me.’

  ‘It is true of Grandpa and Father. And they have never earned a penny. We belong to the new generation that has to gain its bread.’