The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(162)

A conversation with Fleur that evening contributed to his intention that it should not.

‘What’s happened to that young American?’ he said.

Fleur smiled acidly. ‘Francis Wilmot? Oh! he’s “fallen for” Marjorie Ferrar.’

‘ “Fallen for her”?’ said Soames. ‘What an expression!’

‘Yes, dear; it’s American.’

‘“For” her? It means nothing, so far as I can see.’

‘Let’s hope not, for his sake! She’s going to marry Sir Alexander MacGown, I’m told.’

‘Oh!’

‘Did Michael tell you that he hit him on the nose?’

‘Which – who?’ said Soames testily. ‘Whose nose?’

‘MacGown’s, dear; and it bled like anything.’

‘Why on earth did he do that?’

‘Didn’t you read his speech about Michael?’

‘Oh!’ said Soames. ‘Parliamentary fuss – that’s nothing. They’re always behaving like schoolboys, there. And so she’s going to marry him. Has he been putting her up to all this?’

‘No; she’s been putting him.’

Soames discounted the information with a sniff; he scented the hostility of woman for woman. Still, chicken and egg – political feeling and social feeling, who could say which first promoted which? In any case, this made a difference. Going to be married – was she? He debated the matter for some time, and then decided that he would go and see Settlewhite and Stark. If they had been a firm of poor repute or the kind always employed in ‘causes célèbres’, he wouldn’t have dreamed of it; but, as a fact, they stood high, were solid family people, with an aristocratic connexion and all that.

He did not write, but took his hat and went over from ‘The Connoisseurs’ to their offices in King Street, St James’s. The journey recalled old days – to how many such negotiatory meetings had he not gone or caused his adversaries to come! He had never cared to take things into Court if they could be settled out of it. And always he had approached negotiation with the impersonality of one passionless about to meet another of the same kidney – two calculating machines, making their livings out of human nature. He did not feel like that today; and, aware of this handicap, stopped to stare into the print and picture shop next door. Ah! There were those first proofs of the Roussel engravings of the Prince Consort Exhibition of ’51, that Old Mont had spoken of – he had an eye for an engraving, Old Mont. Ah! and there was a Fred Walker, quite a good one! Mason, and Walker – they weren’t done for yet by any means. And the sensation that a man feels hearing a blackbird sing on a tree just coming into blossom, stirred beneath Soames’s ribs. Long – long since he had bought a picture! Let him but get this confounded case out of the way, and he could enjoy himself again. Riving his glance from the window, he took a long breath, and walked into Settlewhite and Stark’s.

The chief partner’s room was on the first floor, and the chief partner standing where chief partners stand.

‘How do you do, Mr Forsyte? I’ve not met you since “Bobbin against the L. & S.W.” That must have been 1900!’

‘1899,’ said Soames. ‘You were for the Company.’

Mr Settlewhite pointed to a chair.

Soames sat down and glanced up at the figure before the fire. H’m! a long-lipped, long-eyelashed, long-chinned face; a man of his own calibre, education, and probity! He need not beat about the bush.

‘This action,’ he said, ‘is a very petty business. What can we do about it?’

Mr Settlewhite frowned.

‘That depends, Mr Forsyte, on what you have to propose? My client has been very grossly libelled.’

Soames smiled sourly.

‘She began it. And what is she relying on – private letters to personal friends of my daughter’s, written in very natural anger! I’m surprised that a firm of your standing–’

Mr Settlewhite smiled.

‘Don’t trouble to compliment my firm! I’m surprised myself that you are acting for your daughter. You can hardly see all round the matter. Have you come to offer an apology?’

‘That!’ said Soames. ‘I should have thought it was for your client to apologize.’

‘If such is your view, I’m afraid it’s no use continuing this discussion.’

Soames regarded him fixedly.

‘How do you think you’re going to prove damage? She belongs to the fast set.’

Mr Settlewhite continued to smile.

‘I understand she’s going to marry Sir Alexander MacGown,’ said Soames.