Читать книгу The Catherine Wheel - Dora Amy Elles - Страница 6

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Jacob Taverner was getting bored. He had heard enough—most of it stale stuff which he knew already. ‘Your grandfather was John—your grandmother was Joanna—you are in this, that, or the other—’ It was all as dull as a parish meeting. No zip about John Taylor—no go, no sparks flying. He wanted to put his own fingers into the pie and stir it up his own way. He thought he had stood behind the door long enough. He pushed it open, walked in, came round in front of the line of chairs, and said, ‘Better introduce me, John.’

John Taylor said, ‘This is Mr. Jacob Taverner,’ whereupon Jacob walked down the line and shook hands with them all. Some of the hands were hot, and some were cold. Mildred Taverner, Lady Marian, and Jane Heron wore gloves. Florence Duke had taken hers off and stuffed them into a gaping pocket. Geoffrey, Jeremy, and John Higgins rose to their feet. Al Miller sat uncomfortably on the edge of his chair and said, ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Geoffrey’s hand was dry and cold—a thin hand, stronger perhaps than it looked. Al Miller’s was so damp that Jacob had no scruple about taking out a cheap brown pocket-handkerchief and drying his fingers before offering them to Jeremy Taverner’s casual clasp. John Higgins had a warm hand and firm grip.

Jacob noticed everything—that Jane’s gloves had seen a good deal of service—that Mildred Taverner had a hole in one of hers, and that the right hand didn’t match the left—that Marian Thorpe-Ennington’s clothes had cost a packet. A mouthful of a name, an armful of a woman. It would have surprised him very much to hear that she paid her bills.

When he had finished shaking hands he came over to the writing-table and sat informally on the far corner, so that by pivoting slightly he could command his whole audience from John Taylor to Jane Heron. Sitting like that with the cold afternoon light striking in and chilling everything, he really bore an astonishing resemblance to an organ-grinder’s monkey. His legs dangled, a shoulder hunched, the bright malicious eyes went from one to another. They made Mildred Taverner fidget with the cotton thread which stuck out an inch from the torn fingertip of her glove, too long not to be noticeable, too short to break off. They made Al Miller mop his brow again. Jane Heron said afterwards that they made her feel as if she was something in a cage being poked at.

It was the affair of a moment. When he had finished looking Jacob said.

‘Well, here we all are, and I don’t mind betting it’s a case of a lot of minds with but a single thought, as the poetry book says. And if you’re wondering where I ever read poetry, I’ll tell you. Everybody gets top marks for thinking it’s not my line. But I once broke a leg on a coral reef. There was a trader took me in, the only white man on the island, and the only mortal book there was in his hut was a thing that called itself Beeton’s Great Book of Poetry. Don’t ask me where he got it, or why he kept it—he never looked inside it himself. But before I was through I pretty well knew it by heart. I even made some up myself, so you see what I was up against. And to come back to the bit I said just now, what you’re all thinking at this moment is, “What has he got us here for?” and, “Why doesn’t he come to the point?”’

Marian Thorpe-Ennington fixed her beautiful eyes upon him and said, ‘But you’re going to now, aren’t you? Because of course we’re simply dying to know why you advertised. You’re not going to let us down, are you? I mean of course you didn’t say that we were going to hear of something to our advantage, but naturally one hoped—and when Freddy said it would all turn out to be a do, I told him he was the most utterly unbelieving person, and what was the good of always expecting the worst? I mean, it’s too sordid, isn’t it? But then of course he’s feeling terribly jaundiced, poor lamb. Because of the pickle factory, you know—too completely on the rocks. And what we are to live on, I can’t imagine! Freddy says there won’t be enough to buy bread, let alone butter—but then, of course, he does worry so, poor sweet. I don’t, because what’s the use?’

By the time she had finished there was a general feeling that everyone had received a personal confidence. A kind of glow was diffused. Even Al Miller got his share of the warm glance and throbbing voice.

Jacob Taverner waited for her to talk herself out. He was, in fact, enjoying himself. When the last note died upon a fascinated silence he observed drily.

‘I’m afraid I can’t substitute for the pickle factory. But—’ He made quite an impressive pause, let a swift mocking glance travel over them all, and went on, ‘Well, we’ll come to that in a minute.’

Mildred Taverner, picking at her glove, had broken the cotton off short, with the disastrous result that another inch of the seam had come undone. She made a small vexed sound and slipped her left hand in the torn black glove under her right in the navy blue which was what she had meant to put on, because the black pair were really not fit to be seen, though she could of course cobble them up and make them do for the household shopping. A glove never looked the same after it had been mended.

Her brother Geoffrey gave her a cold, quelling look.

Jacob Taverner went on.

‘I have asked you all to come here because I want to make your acquaintance. All your fathers and mothers were my first cousins—the nephews and nieces of my father, Jeremiah Taverner the second. I want to make your acquaintance. When my grandfather, old Jeremiah Taverner, died there was a first-class family row because he left every blessed thing to my father. Any of you know why?’

Quite a bright blotting-paper pink came up into Mildred Taverner’s face. She said in an unnaturally high voice, ‘It was most unfair! My grandfather always said so!’

Al Miller rubbed his hands together, rolling the handkerchief between them.

‘So did mine. He said it was a right-down shame.’

Jacob’s mouth twisted.

‘I believe there was complete unanimity on that point. It was the only one on which the rest of the family did see eye to eye. The very minute they’d got over telling my father what they thought of him for taking his legal rights, they started a first-class dog-fight over their mother’s money.’

Florence Duke said in her deliberate way, ‘There wasn’t any to speak of.’

He gave his cackling laugh.

‘That’s just why. Throw one bone in amongst half a dozen dogs and see what happens! As you say, it wasn’t a very big bone, and by rights—mark this—by rights it had to be divided among the whole eight children. But my father didn’t claim his share. I don’t say it was handsome of him—I’m just stating facts. He left his mother’s belongings to be divided up among the other seven.’

‘Wills are so tiresome,’ said Lady Marian in her delicious voice. ‘Freddy’s father left a simply dreadful one.’

Geoffrey Taverner moved impatiently.

‘Just what was there to divide?’

‘Nothing to write home about. There was a cottage with a bit of land to it, a few pieces of jewelry, and five hundred pounds in Consols. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Acts, they each got a hundred pounds. Mary and Joanna got a brooch and a bracelet or so apiece, and Joanna got the cottage. She was just going to marry your grandfather’—he addressed John Higgins—‘and when they’d all fought themselves to a standstill and Thomas Higgins had put down another twenty pounds, they took a fiver each out of it and let her have the cottage. Mary didn’t come into it, because she was married to Lord Rathlea and safe away on the other side of the Irish Channel. Well, after that there wasn’t much love lost. Matthew did well out of his money. He bought a couple of old cottages and doubled his capital on them. House-coping—that was his job.’ He glanced maliciously at Geoffrey and Mildred. ‘No need to be offended—my father was in the same line. Mark—respectability was his middle name—country solicitor’s clerk to the end of his days. Whilst Mary was an ornament to the Peerage, and Luke—well the less said about Luke the better.’

‘Why can’t you let him alone?’ said Al Miller. His dark skin did not seem to be susceptible to a flush. Anger turned him sallow. He rolled the brightly coloured handkerchief between sweating palms.

Jacob laughed.

‘All right, all right—least said soonest mended. Joanna lived and died in her cottage in a state of rural felicity. John went up in the world—made a ladder of his brains and climbed. And Acts worked up from rags and bones, figuratively speaking’—he bowed to Jane—‘to quite a nice little antique shop in Ledborough. And there we are.’

Geoffrey Taverner said, ‘Very clear and succinct, but I don’t know that it gets us anywhere. I think we should all like to know why we have been brought here.’

‘Naturally. Now I hope—I really do hope you haven’t all been buoyed up with the idea of hearing something to your advantage.’

Marian Thorpe-Ennington sighed in a dramatic manner.

‘But of course we have, my dear man. I said to Freddy at once, “Things simply can’t go on being as foul as they’ve been ever since we got married. I mean, if there’s a silver-lining, it’s simply bound to show up some time, isn’t it? And why shouldn’t it be now?” I said that at once. But he’s so gloomy about the whole thing, the poor sweet, and no wonder, having to go to these dreadful creditors’ meetings. That’s why he couldn’t be here this afternoon. And he simply hated my coming alone, because he always thinks I’ll do something stupid. But, as I told him, “There will probably be hordes of us there, and probably some of them will be quite bright people, so it won’t depend on me”.’ She sighed again, even more deeply. ‘You don’t really mean to say that there isn’t going to be anything at all?’ Her voice went down into really tragic depths.

Jacob said, ‘Well, well—’ And then, ‘I’m afraid you may all be rather disappointed. I have asked you here for three reasons. I thought the family quarrel had gone on long enough. I haven’t made any ties, and I thought it would be interesting to get to know my kith and kin. For which purpose I want to invite you all to pay me a visit at the old family Inn.’

John Higgins’s blue eyes turned on him.

‘’Twas sold when great-grandfather died, the old Catherine-Wheel.’

Jacob said, ‘Ah, but it wasn’t. My father never sold it, though I daresay it was put about that he had—I don’t say he didn’t put it about himself. He gave a lease, and the lease ran out last year, so it’s back on my hands, with the Castells running it. Mrs. Castell being your father’s sister—Joanna’s daughter, born Annie Higgins.’

John Higgins said slowly, ‘I knew my Aunt Annie was there. It’s ten years since I saw her.’

‘And you not a mile away in the cottage Joanna got for her share of her mother’s property?’

‘Yes, I’m in the old cottage.’

‘Married, or single?’

A slow smile gave charm to the impassive face.

‘There’s something you didn’t know? Seemed you knew everything. I’m single, and I do for myself. And I haven’t seen my Aunt Annie for ten years, though she’s living but a mile away.’

Jacob nodded.

‘Very interesting. United family, aren’t we?’

John Higgins shut his mouth firmly. He sat with a big hand on either knee, quiet and unembarrassed. Jacob said.

‘The inn is the Catherine-Wheel on the old Ledlington coast road. Nearest station Cliff Halt—a mile and a half. I’m inviting you all to come and stay with me at this next weekend. Some of you may not find it easy to get away—you may have to engage extra help—you may find it difficult to get leave of absence—you may be put to inconvenience or expense. You will therefore each receive the sum of one hundred pounds as, let us say, some recognition that your grandfathers and grandmothers were shabbily treated under old Jeremiah’s will, and that in inviting you for this visit I don’t want to put you to any further inconvenience.’ He stopped rather abruptly, crossed his right leg over his left, leaned sideways with his hand on the leather-covered table-top, and watched them.

Geoffrey Taverner had a slight frown. Mildred’s scarf had slipped, she pulled at it with small ineffectual jerks. Florence Duke’s rather heavy features had taken on a look of severity oddly at variance with their previous expression of tolerant good nature. Al Miller had an eager, startled air. John Higgins sat as he had done all through, large, fair, placid, self-contained. Jane had her eyes very wide open, and her lips parted. Her hands held one another tightly in her lap. Jeremy looked angry. The only one to speak was Marian Thorpe-Ennington. She said, ‘My dear man—how marvellous!’

‘You’ll come then?’

‘But of course. You do mean Freddy as well, don’t you? He won’t like it if you don’t, and the poor sweet is so upset already.’

Jacob nodded curtly.

‘He can come.’ He turned to Geoffrey Taverner. ‘You can get away? Your sister said you were in the Civil Service.’

Geoffrey looked annoyed.

‘My sister was inaccurate—she very often is. I resigned some time ago—I am now in private employ. I could manage the weekend you mentioned.’

‘And you, Mildred?’

He smiled maliciously at the nervous start which sent her handbag to the floor and once more exposed its contents.

Jacob took in the whole assembly with a dancing gleam of malice and proceeded.

‘Since we are all cousins, I propose that we should address one another without handles. Plain Christian names will be sufficient until intimacy warrants some affectionate contraction. But I am afraid I startled Mildred. I apologise. I was merely about to enquire whether she could get away for the weekend.’

Miss Taverner clasped and reclasped the errant bag. A piece of the handkerchief stuck out. It was the one she had intended to put into the wash before she came out. ‘Oh dear, oh dear—’ She sought for words in very much the same way as she had fumbled for the overflow from her bag.

‘Oh, yes—oh dear—I’m so sorry—the catch should be seen to, but there never seems to be time. My partner, Miss Millington, will take charge, and we always shut on Saturday afternoons. I’m sure it’s very kind.’ Her lips continued to move as they repeated soundlessly, ‘Oh dear—a hundred pounds—oh dear, oh dear, oh dear—’

Jacob dismissed her with a nod.

‘And you, Florence?’

She gave him the same straight, bold look as she had done before.

‘Yes. I’ll come. I’d like to see the old place. I’ve a friend that comes in to give me a hand when I’m pressed, and I don’t open Sundays. She’ll manage.’

‘And you, Al Miller? Let me see you’re a railway employee aren’t you—Ledlington Station—porter?’

‘That’s right. I could get off Saturday evening.’

Jacob nodded.

‘The Inn is only three and a half miles out of Ledlington. You’ve got a bike, I take it. You can come along when you come off duty. That suit you?’

Al Miller thought, ‘What’s he getting at? A hundred pounds would suit anyone, wouldn’t it?’ He jerked his head and said it suited him all right.

Jacob said, ‘Well, we’re getting along. Marian has already told us that she and Freddy can come. Now what about you, John?’

John Higgins said in his pleasant country voice, ‘No, thank you, Cousin Jacob.’

The monkey face screwed itself into a vexed grimace.

‘My dear chap, why not?’

‘I’ve my reasons, thanking you all the same.’

‘Come, come—there’s a hundred pounds just waiting to be picked up.’

The blue eyes rested calmly upon him.

‘If I’d a good reason for coming, I’d come. Since I’ve my reasons for staying away, I’ll stay.’

‘And the hundred pounds?’

‘You’re welcome to it, Cousin Jacob.’

Jane found her hands clapping themselves together softly in her lap. She looked sideways at Jeremy and saw that he was extremely angry. It was all very nicely controlled, but she didn’t trust him a yard. If she didn’t take things into her own hands, he was going to put his foot down, or something stupid like that. She reflected that men were quite dreadfully Early Victorian. In point of fact she didn’t suppose there had ever been a century in which they didn’t throw right back to the cave man and announce that their will was law. Not really civilised, that was the trouble. She gave him a look and said without waiting to be asked.

‘I’d love to come, Cousin Jacob. It’s frightfully nice of you to ask us. I get Saturday afternoon and Sunday off, but I shall have to be back at half-past nine on Monday.’

Jeremy had a rush of blood to the head. He experienced some primitive reactions. Bounce him, would she? Well, he would show her. And if she thought—if she thought for one minute that he was going to let her go off with this gang and without him to that God-forsaken inn with its shady past and Lord knows what kind of a present, well—Jacob Taverner was addressing him.

‘And you, Jeremy?’

He answered with controlled politeness.

‘Thank you, sir. I am on leave—I shall be able to come.’