The Forsyte Saga Volume 2(302)

‘Well, then, I’ll look for you at the week-end. Your mother’s gone to some friends – they do nothing but play bridge; she’ll be away till Monday. I always want you, you know,’ he added simply. And to avoid his eyes she got up.

‘I’ll just run up now, Dad, and change. Those Slum Committee meetings always make me feel grubby. I don’t know why.’

‘They’re a waste of time,’ said Soames. ‘There’ll always be slums. Still, it’s something for you both to do.’

‘Yes, Michael’s quite happy about it.’

‘That old fool, Sir Timothy!’ And Soames went up to the Fragonard. ‘I’ve hung that Morland. The Marquess is an amiable old chap. I suppose you know I’m leaving my pictures to the nation? You’ve no use for them. You’ll have to live at that place Lippinghall some day. Pictures’d be no good there. Ancestors and stags’ horns and horses – that sort of thing. M’ff!’

A secret life and Lippinghall! Long, long might that conjunction be deferred!

‘Oh, Bart will live for ever, Dad!’

‘M’yes! He’s spry enough. Well, you run up!’

While she washed off her powder and put it on again Fleur thought: ‘Dear Dad! Thank God! He’ll be far away!’

Now that her mind was thoroughly made up, it was comparatively easy to bluff, and keep her freshly-powdered face, smiling and serene, above the Chelsea dinner service.

‘Where are you going to hang your portrait, when it’s done?’ resumed Soames.

‘Why! It’ll be yours, dear.’

‘Mine? Well, of course; but you’ll hang it here; Michael’ll want it.’

Michael – unknowing! That gave her a twinge.

Well, she would be as good to him after, as ever. No old-fashioned squeamishness!

‘Thank you, dear. I expect he’ll like it in the “parlour”. The scheme is silver and gold – my “Folly” dress.’

‘I remember it,’ said Soames; ‘a thing with bells.’

‘I think all that part of the picture’s very good.’

‘What? Hasn’t he got your face?’

‘Perhaps – but I don’t know that I approve of it frightfully.’ After this morning’s sitting, indeed, she had wondered. Something avid had come into the face as if the Rafaelite had sensed the hardening of resolve within her.

‘If he doesn’t do you justice I shan’t take it,’ said Soames.

Fleur smiled. The Rafaelite would have something to say to that.

‘Oh! I expect it’ll be all right. One never thinks one’s own effigies are marvellous, I suppose.’

‘Don’t know,’ said Soames, ‘never was painted.’

‘You ought to be, dear.’

‘Waste of time! Has he sent away the picture of that young woman?’

Fleur’s eyes did not flinch.

Jon Forsyte’s wife? Oh! Yes – long ago.’

She expected him to say: ‘Seen anything of them?’ But it did not come. And that disturbed her more than if it had come.

‘I had your cousin Val to see me today.’

Fleur’s heart stood still. Had they been talking?

‘His name’s been forged.’

Thank heaven!

‘Some people have no moral sense at all,’ continued Soames. Involuntarily her white shoulder rose; but he wasn’t looking. ‘Common honesty, I don’t know where it is.’

‘I heard Lord Shropshire say to-night that “Honesty’s the best policy” was a mere Victorianism, Dad.’

‘Well, he’s ten years my senior, but I don’t know where he got that from. Everything’s twisted inside out, nowadays.’

‘But if it’s the best policy, there never was any particular virtue in it, was there?’

Soames took a sharp look at her smiling face.

‘Why not?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. These are Lippinghall partridges, Dad.’

Soames sniffed. ‘Not hung quite long enough. You ought to be able to swear by the leg of a partridge.’

‘Yes, I’ve told cook, but she has her own views.’

‘And the bread sauce should have a touch more onion in it. Victorianism, indeed! I suppose he’d call me a Victorian?’

‘Well, aren’t you, Dad? You had forty-six years of her.’

‘I’ve had twenty-five without her, and hope to have a few more.’

‘Many, many,’ said Fleur softly.

‘Can’t expect that.’

‘Oh yes! But I’m glad you don’t consider yourself a Victorian; I don’t like them. They wore too many clothes.’

‘Don’t you be too sure of that.’