Chapter Twelve
ENVOI
AWAY from Fleur five months at least!
Soames’s astounding conduct had indeed knocked Michael over. And yet, after all, they had come to a crisis in their life together, the more serious because concerned with workaday feelings. Perhaps out there she would become afflicted, like himself, with an enlarged prospect; lose her idea that the world consisted of some five thousand people of advanced tastes, of whom she knew at the outside five hundred. It was she who had pushed him into Parliament, and until he was hoofed therefrom as a failure, their path was surely conjoined along the crest of a large view. In the fortnight before her departure he suffered and kept smiling; wryly thankful that she was behaving ‘like a kitten’, as her father called it. Her nerves had been on edge ever since the autumn over that wretched case – what more natural than this reaction? At least she felt for him sufficiently to be prodigal of kisses – great consolation to Michael while it lasted. Once or twice he caught her hanging with wet eyes over the eleventh baronet; once found her with a wet face when he awoke in the morning. These indications were a priceless assurance to him that she meant to come back. For there were moments when possibilities balled into a nightmare. Absurd! She was going with her father, that embodiment of care and prudence! Who would have thought old Forsyte could uproot himself like this? He, too, was leaving a wife, though Michael saw no signs of it. One didn’t know much about old Forsyte’s feelings, except that they centred round his daughter, and that he was continually asking questions about labels and insects. He had bought himself, too, a life-saving waistcoat and one for Fleur. Michael held with him only one important conversation.
‘I want you,’ Soames said, ‘to keep an eye on my wife, and see she doesn’t go getting into a mess with the cows. She’ll have her mother with her, but women are so funny. You’ll find her first-rate with the baby. How will you be off for money?’
‘Perfectly all right, sir.’
‘Well, if you want some for any good purpose, go to old Gradman in the City; you remember him, perhaps?’
‘Yes, and I’m afraid he’ll remember me.’
‘Never mind; he’s a faithful old fellow.’ And Michael heard him sigh. ‘I’d like you to look in at Green Street, too, now and then. Your aunt-in-law may feel my being away a little. I’ll let you have news of Fleur from time to time – now they’ve got this wireless she’ll want to know about the baby. I’m taking plenty of quinine. Fleur says she’s a good sailor. There’s nothing like champagne for that, I’m told. And, by the way, you know best, but I shouldn’t press your notions too far in Parliament; they’re easily bored there, I believe. We’ll meet you at Vancouver, at the end of August. She’ll be tired of travelling by then. She’s looking forward to Egypt and Japan, but I don’t know. Seems to me it’ll be all travelling.’
‘Have you plenty of ducks, sir? You’ll want them at this time of year in the Red Sea; and I should take a helmet.’
‘I’ve got one,’ said Soames; ‘they’re heavy great things,’ and, looking suddenly at Michael, he added:
‘I shall look after her, and you’ll look after yourself, I hope.’
Michael understood him.
‘Yes, sir. And thank you very much. I think it’s most frightfully sporting of you.’
‘It’s to be hoped it’ll do her good; and that the little chap won’t miss her.’
‘Not if I can help it,’
Soames, who was seated in front of ‘The White Monkey’, seemed to go into a trance. At last he stirred in his chair and said:
‘The war’s left everything very unsettled. I suppose people believe in something nowadays, but I don’t know what it is.’
Michael felt a fearful interest.
‘Do you mind telling me sir, what you believe in yourself?’
‘What was good enough for my father is good enough for me. They expect too much now; there’s no interest taken in being alive.’
‘Interest taken in being alive!’ The words were singularly comprehensive. Were they the answer to all modern doubt?
The last night, the last kiss came; and the glum journey to the Docks in Soames’s car. Michael alone went to see them off! The gloomy dockside, and the grey river; the bustle with baggage, and the crowded tender. An aching business! Even for her, he almost believed – an aching business. And the long desultory minutes, on the ship; the initiation of Soames into its cramped, shining, strangely odoured mysteries. The ghastly smile one had to keep on the lips, the inane jokes one had to make. And then that moment, apart, when she pressed her breast to his and gave him a clinging kiss.