Читать книгу The Window - Alice Grant Rosman - Страница 6

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Christopher's arrival at the offices of Ponder and James in Lincoln's Inn caused a flutter of dismay. The heir to a dignified estate should not turn up unheralded like any Dick, Tom or Harry, Mr. Ponder's look of pained astonishment seemed to say. The old boy hadn't changed a bit, except that he looked more than ever owl-like in his horn-rimmed spectacles. And quite right, too, thought Christopher, pleased at this appropriate embellishment, for if a lawyer isn't owl-like, what on earth, he asked himself, should he be?

"You did not write us, surely, Mr. Royle?" said pained Mr. Ponder, as though his memory were not quite clear upon the point.

Christopher explained that postal facilities had been few in his neighborhood and that any letter he might have written could only have traveled by the same steamer which brought him to England.

"But a cable perhaps?"

Mr. Ponder's tone was suave. He had not forgotten that Christopher was now the head of the house of Royle, but in spite of his urbanity, some hint emerged that he thought it a pity, and once again the young man felt himself in the presence of the antagonism with which his whole life at home had been beset.

"You have at least no doubt let your sister-in-law know of your impending arrival," added Mr. Ponder brightening, as one who wishes to believe the best.

"Adelaide? Good lord, no. I imagined you would have heard, sir, that I have had little communication with the family for the last six or seven years. I hardly think she would be interested in my movements even if I had known where to find her."

"She is still, of course, at Windyhill," said the lawyer.

"Eh?" Christopher was startled.

"Until we heard your wishes in the matter, naturally," proceeded Mr. Ponder. "It was necessary that the estate should be looked after and Mrs. Royle kindly consented to remain pending advice from you. You might have wished, for instance, to remain abroad ... er ... indefinitely."

Christopher felt himself flushing with sudden rage.

"Do you happen to know why I went abroad?" he enquired in a level tone.

"Oh, certainly not. I was to a large extent in your late brother's confidence, but not of course in matters of a private family nature."

"Private family nature be damned!" said Christopher furiously. "I went to earn my living and if any other reason has been suggested it was a lie."

"Calm yourself, my dear Mr. Christopher, calm yourself," begged Mr. Ponder, flustered. "No such suggestion has been made I assure you. Your explanation is of course the obvious one, and considering the economic state of England after the War, I consider it was a most judicious move on your part ... most judicious."

Christopher calmed himself, but less from inclination than because he felt how impossible it was to break through the other's battery of words to the real antagonism behind. Always with the people of his brother's world, it was there ... the subtle suggestion that he was somehow culpable.

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter," he shrugged, "but since it is no longer a question of pounds, shillings and pence, I shall naturally live in England. As for the estate, surely Harrison could have looked after that without troubling my sister-in-law to put herself out by staying."

"Er ... quite." Mr. Ponder took off his glasses and polished them with care. "Harrison, however, your brother found, was not sufficiently up-to-date for the needs of the place, and he parted with him some years ago. The present steward is Mrs. Royle's brother, young Mr. Felix Woollf, who has done excellently in the position, I understand.

"Your brother," continued Mr. Ponder, "thought, and no doubt you will agree with him, that it is always best when possible to employ a relative in a rather confidential capacity of that kind."

"On the contrary, I disagree with him on that as on every other subject," said Christopher bluntly, rising to his feet.

"Oh, come ... come! De mortuis, you know, my dear sir."

"Damn de mortuis!" said Christopher violently. He felt rather like a small boy defying the Head, but he didn't care.

"I'd better see them," he said.

"Yes, yes, an excellent idea." Mr. Ponder was clearly glad to be rid of the responsibility. "You will be delighted with the estate I know. In splendid order ... never better. And when you are ready to go into matters generally I need hardly tell you we are at your disposal," added Mr. Ponder generously. "One day next week, shall we say?"

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

Christopher went out from the lawyer's presence with a feeling of defeat. The whole interview in retrospect annoyed him intensely, his own part in it in particular. What a fool he was to let these sneaking undercurrents move him. And his clothes were all wrong. He should have thought of that. It put a man at a disadvantage somehow. As for the crafty Adelaide hanging on and waiting to be ejected, it was a beastly business. She might, he thought, have had better taste than that.