Sir Lawrence cocked his eyebrow, as if debating whether he ought to answer this remark about one who had ancestors, from one who had none.
‘And his daughter,’ said Soames, ‘isn’t a lady.’
Sir Lawrence wagged his head.
‘Single-minded, Forsyte, single-minded; but you’re right; there’s a queer streak in that blood. Old Shropshire’s a dear old man; it skipped his generation, but it’s there – it’s there. His aunt –’
‘He called me an attorney,’ said Soames with a grim smile, ‘and she called me a liar. I don’t know which is worse.’
Sir Lawrence got up and looked into St James’s Street. Soames had the feeling that the narrow head perched up on that straight thin back counted for more than his own, in this affair. One was dealing here with people who said and did what they liked and damned the consequences; this baronet chap had been brought up in that way himself, no doubt, he ought to know how their minds worked.
Sir Lawrence turned.
‘She may bring an action, Forsyte; it was very public. What evidence have you?’
‘My own ears.’
Sir Lawrence looked at the ears, as if to gauge their length.
‘M’m ! Anything else?’
‘That paragraph.’
‘She’ll get at the paper. Yes?’
The man she was talking to.’
Michael ejaculated: ‘Philip Quinsey – put not your trust in Gath!’
‘What more?’
‘Well,’ said Soames, ‘there’s what that young American overheard, whatever it was.’
‘Ah!’ said Sir Lawrence: ‘Take care she doesn’t get at him. Is that all?’
Soames nodded. It didn’t seem much, now he came to think of it!
‘You say she called you a liar. How would it be to take the offensive?’
There was a silence; then Soames said: ‘Women? No!’
‘Quite right, Forsyte! They have their privileges still. There’s nothing for it but to wait and see how the cat jumps. Traitress! I suppose you know how much the word costs?’
‘The cost,’ said Soames, ‘is nothing; it’s the publicity!’
His imagination was playing streets ahead of him. He saw himself already in ‘the box’, retailing the spiteful purring of that cat, casting forth to the public and the papers the word ‘snob’, of his own daughter; for if he didn’t, he would have no defence. Too painful!
‘What does Fleur say?’ he asked, suddenly, of Michael.
‘War to the knife.’
Soames jumped in his chair.
‘Ah!’ he said: ‘That’s a woman all over – no imagination!’
‘That’s what I thought at first, sir, but I’m not so sure. She says if Marjorie Ferrar is not taken by the short hairs, she’ll put it across everybody – and that the more public the thing is, the less harm she can do.’
‘I think,’ said Sir Lawrence, coming back to his chair, ‘I’ll go and see old Shropshire. My father and his shot woodcock together in Albania in ‘fifty-four.’
Soames could not see the connexion, but did not snub the proposal. A marquess was a sort of gone-off duke; even in this democratic age, he would have some influence, one supposed.
‘He’s eighty,’ went on Sir Lawrence, ‘and gets gout in the stomach, but he’s as brisk as a bee.’
Soames could not be sure whether it was a comfort.
‘The grass shall not grow, Forsyte. I’ll go there now.’
They parted in the street, Sir Lawrence moving north – towards Mayfair.
The Marquess of Shropshire was dictating to his secretary a letter to his County Council, urging on them an item of his lifelong programme for the electrification of everything. One of the very first to take up electricity, he had remained faithful to it all his brisk and optimistic days. A short, bird-like old man, in shaggy Lovat tweeds, with a blue tie of knitted silk passed through a ring, bright cheeks and well-trimmed white beard and moustache, he was standing in his favourite attitude, with one foot on a chair, his elbow on his knee, and his chin on his hand.
‘Ah! young Mont!’ he said: ‘Sit down.’
Sir Lawrence took a chair, crossed his knees, and threaded his finger-tips. He found it pleasing to be called ‘young Mont’, at sixty-six or so.
‘Have you brought me another of your excellent books?’
‘No, Marquess; I’ve come for your advice.’
‘Ah! Go on, Mr Mersey: “In this way, gentlemen, you will save at least three thousand a year to your ratepayers; confer a blessing on the countryside by abolishing the smoke of four filthy chimneys; and make me your obliged servant,