Читать книгу Overture to Death - Ngaio Marsh, Stella Duffy - Страница 10

It was Henry who rescued the situation when it was on the verge of becoming a scene. Neither Miss Campanula nor Miss Prentice made the slightest attempt at cordiality. The squire uttered incoherent noises, shouted ‘What!’ and broke out into uncomfortable social laughter. Dinah greeted Mrs Ross with nervous civility. The rector blinked and followed his daughter’s example. But on Henry the presence of Dinah acted like a particularly strong stimulant and filled him with a vague desire to be nice to the entire population of the world. He shook Mrs Ross warmly by the hand, complimented Dr Templett on his side, and suggested, with a beaming smile, that they should at once elect a chairman and decide on a play.

The squire, Dinah, and the rector confusedly supported Henry. Miss Campanula gave a ringing sniff. Miss Prentice, smiling a little more widely than usual, said:

‘I’m afraid we are short of one chair. We expected to be only seven. Henry dear, you will have to get one from the dining-room. I’m so sorry to bother you.’

‘I’ll share Dinah’s chair,’ said Henry happily.

‘Please don’t get one for me,’ said Mrs Ross. ‘Billy can perch on my arm.’

She settled herself composedly in a chair on the rector’s left and Dr Templett at once sat on the arm. Miss Prentice had already made sure of her place on the rector’s right hand and Miss Campanula, defeated, uttered a short laugh and marched to the far end of the table.

‘I don’t know whether this is where I am bidden, Eleanor,’ she said, ‘but the meeting seems to be delightfully informal, so this is where I shall sit. Ha!’

Henry, his father, and Dinah took the remaining chairs.

From the old chandelier a strong light was cast down on the eight faces round the table; on the squire, pink with embarrassment; on Miss Prentice, smiling; on Miss Campanula, like an angry mare, breathing hard through her nostrils; on Henry’s dark Jernigham features; on Dinah’s crisp and vivid beauty; on the rector’s coin-sharp priestliness and on Dr Templett’s hearty undistinguished normality. It shone on Selia Ross. She was a straw-coloured woman of perhaps thirty-eight. She was not beautiful but she was exquisitely neat. Her hair curved back from her forehead in pale waves. The thick white skin of her face was beautifully made-up and her clothes were admirable. There was a kind of sharpness about her so that she nearly looked haggard. Her eyes were pale and you would have guessed that the lashes were white when left to themselves. Almost every human being bears some sort of resemblance to an animal and Mrs Ross was a little like a ferret. But for all that she had a quality that arrested the attention of many woman and most men. She had a trick of widening her eyes, and looking slant ways. Though she gave the impression of fineness she was in reality so determined that any sensibilities she possessed were held in the vice of her will. She was a coarse-grained woman but she seemed fragile. Her manner was gay and good natured, but though she went out of her way to do kindnesses, her tongue was quietly malicious. It was clear to all women who met her that her chief interest was men. Dinah watched her now and could not help admiring the cool assurance with which she met her frigid reception. It was impossible to guess whether Mrs Ross was determined not to show her hurts or was merely so insensitive that she felt none. ‘She has got a cheek,’ thought Dinah. She looked at Henry and saw her own thoughts reflected in his face. Henry’s rather startlingly fierce eyes were fixed on Mrs Ross and in them Dinah read both awareness and appraisal. He turned his head, met Dinah’s glance, and at once his expression changed into one of such vivid tenderness that her heart turned over. She was drowned in a wave of emotion and was brought back to the world by the sound of Miss Prentice’s voice.

‘– to elect a chairman for our little meeting. I should like to propose the rector.’

‘Second that,’ said Miss Campanula, in her deepest voice.

‘There you are, Copeland,’ said the squire, ‘everybody says “Aye” and away we go.’ He laughed loudly and cast a terrified glance at his cousin.

The rector looked amiably round the table. With the exception of Henry, of all the company he seemed the least embarrassed by the arrival of Mrs Ross. If Mr Copeland had been given a round gentle face with unremarkable features and kind shortsighted eyes it would have been a perfect expression of his temperament. But ironical nature had made him magnificently with a head so beautiful that to most observers it seemed that his character must also be on a grand scale. With that head he might have gone far and become an important dignitary of the church, but he was unambitious and sincere, and he loved Pen Cuckoo. He was quite content to live at the rectory as his forebears had lived, to deal with parish affairs, to give what spiritual and bodily comfort he could to his people, and to fend off the advances of Idris Campanula and Eleanor Prentice. He knew very well that both these ladies bitterly resented the presence of Mrs Ross, and that he was in for one of those hideously boring situations when he felt exactly as if he was holding down with his thumb the cork of a bottle filled with seething ginger-pop.

He said, ‘Thank you very much. I don’t feel that my duties as chairman will be very heavy as we have only met to settle the date and nature of this entertainment, and when that is decided all I shall have to do is to hand everything over to the kind people who take part. Perhaps I should explain a little about the object we have in mind. The Young People’s Friendly Circle, which has done such splendid work in Pen Cuckoo and the neighbouring parishes, is badly in need of funds. Miss Prentice as president and Miss Campanula as secretary, will tell you all about that. What we want more than anything else is a new piano. The present instrument was given by your father, wasn’t it, squire?’

‘Yes,’ said Jocelyn. ‘I remember quite well. It was when I was about twelve. It wasn’t new then. I can imagine it’s pretty well a dead horse.’

‘We had a tuner up from Great Chipping,’ said Miss Campanula, ‘and he says he can’t do anything more with it. I blame the scouts. Ever since the eldest Cain boy was made scout master they have gone from bad to worse. He’s got no idea of discipline, that young man. On Saturday I found Georgie Biggins trampling up and down the keyboard in his boots and whanging the wires inside with the end of his pole. “If I were your scout-master,” I said, “I’d give you a beating that you’d not forget in a twelvemonth.” His reply was grossly impertinent. I told the eldest Cain that if he couldn’t control his boys himself he’d better hand them over to someone who could.’

‘Dear me, yes,’ said the rector hurriedly. ‘Young barbarians they are sometimes. Well now, the piano is of course not the sole property of the YPFC. It was a gift to the parish. But I have suggested that, as they use it a great deal, perhaps it would be well to devote whatever funds result from this entertainment to a piano fund, rather than to a general YPFC fund. I don’t know what you all think about this.’

‘How much would a new piano cost?’ asked Dr Templett.

‘There’s a very good instrument at Preece’s in Great Chipping,’ said the rector. ‘The price is £50.’

‘We can’t hope to make that at our show, can we?’ asked Dinah.

‘I tell you what,’ said the squire. ‘I’ll make up the difference. The piano seems to be a Pen Cuckoo affair.’

There was a general gratified murmur.

‘Damned good of you squire,’ said Dr Templett. ‘Very generous.’

‘Very good indeed,’ agreed the rector.

Miss Prentice, without moving, seemed to preen herself. Henry saw Miss Campanula look at her friend and was startled by the singularly venomous glint in her eye. He thought, ‘She’s jealous of Eleanor taking reflected glory from Father’s offer.’ And suddenly he was appalled by the thought of these two ageing women united in so profound a dissonance.

‘Perhaps,’ said the rector, ‘we had better have a formal motion.’

They had a formal motion. The rector hurried them on. A date was fixed three weeks ahead for the performance in the parish hall. Miss Prentice who seemed to have become a secretary by virtue of her seat on the rector’s right hand, made quantities of notes. And all the time each of these eight people knew very well that they merely moved in a circle round the true matter of their meeting. What Miss Prentice called ‘the nature of our little entertainment’ had yet to be determined. Every now and then someone would steal a covert glance at the small pile of modern plays in front of Dinah and the larger pile of elderly French’s acting editions in front of Miss Prentice. And while they discussed prices of admission, and dates, through each of their minds raced their secret thoughts.