‘It sounds “marvellous.” I suppose you’ll be going there instead of to the Temple?’
‘Yes, he’s moving into Pump Court, or Brick Buildings – I can’t remember. When you think of it, Dinny, why shouldn’t he have been made co-respondent instead of Tony? I see much more of him.’
Otherwise allusion to ‘the case’ was foregone. It would be one of the first after the undefended suits were disposed of, and calm before the storm was reigning.
Dornford, indeed, referred to it after lunch on Sunday.
‘Shall you be in court during your sister’s case, Dinny?’
‘I must.’
‘I’m afraid it may make you very wild. They’ve briefed Brough, and he’s particularly exasperating when he likes with a simple denial like this; that’s what they’ll rely on. Clare must try and keep cool.’
Dinny remembered ‘very young’ Roger’s wishing it had been herself and not Clare.
‘I hope you’ll tell her that.’
‘I’ll take her through her evidence, and cross-examine her on it. But one can’t tell the line Brough will take.’
‘Shall you be in court yourself?’
‘If I can, but the odds are I shan’t be free.’
‘How long will it last?’
‘More than a day, I’m afraid.’
Dinny sighed.
‘Poor Dad! Has Clare got a good man?’
‘Yes – Instone, very much hampered by her refusal to talk about Ceylon.’
‘That’s definite, you know. She won’t.’
‘I like her for it, but I’m afraid it’s fatal.’
‘So be it!’ said Dinny: ‘I want her free. The person most to be pitied is Tony Croom.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s the only one of the three in love.’
‘I see,’ said Dornford, and was silent. Dinny felt sorry.
‘Would you care for a walk?’
‘Simply love it!’
‘We’ll go up through the woods, and I’ll show you where the Cherrell killed the boar and won the de Campfort – our heraldic myth. Had you any family legend in Shropshire?’
‘Yes, but the place has gone – sold when my father died; six of us and no money.’
‘Oh!’ said Dinny, ‘horrible when families are uprooted.’
Dornford smiled.
‘Live donkeys are better than dead lions.’
While they were going up through the coverts he talked about his new house, subtly ‘pumping’ her for expressions of her taste.
They came out into a sunken roadway leading on to a thorn-bush-covered down.
‘Here’s the place. Virgin forest then, no doubt. We used to picnic here as children.’
Dornford took a deep breath. ‘Real English view – nothing spectacular, but no end good.’
‘Lovable.’
‘That’s the word.’
He spread his raincoat on the bank. ‘Sit down and let’s have a smoke.’
Dinny sat down.
‘Come on part of it yourself, the ground’s not too dry.’
While he sat there, with his hands hugging his knees and his pipe fuming gently, she thought: ‘The most self-controlled man I ever came across, and the gentlest, except Uncle Adrian.’
‘If only a boar would come along,’ he said, ‘it would be prime!’
‘Member of Parliament kills boar on spur of Chilterns,’ murmured Dinny, but did not add: ‘Wins lady.’
‘Wind’s off the gorse. Another three weeks and it’ll be green down there. Pick of the year – this, or the Indian summer, I never know. And yours, Dinny?’
‘Blossom time.’
‘Um; and harvest. This ought to be glorious then – quite a lot of cornland.’
‘It was just ripe when the war broke out. We came up picnicking two days before, and stayed till the moon rose. How much do you think people really fought for England, Mr Dornford?’
‘Practically all – for some nook or other of it; many just for the streets, and buses, and smell of fried fish. I fought mainly, I think, for Shrewsbury and Oxford. But Eustace is my name.’
‘I’ll remember. We’d better go down now, or we shall be late for tea.’
And, all the way home, they contended with birds’ songs and the names of plants.
‘Thanks for my treat,’ he said.
‘I’ve enjoyed it, too.’
That walk had, indeed, a curiously soothing effect on Dinny. So, she could talk with him without question of love-making.
Bank holiday was sou’-westerly. Dornford spent a quiet hour with Clare over her evidence, and then went riding with her in the rain. Dinny’s morning went in arranging for spring cleaning and the chintzing of the furniture while the family were up in town. Her mother and father were to stay at Mount Street, she and Clare with Fleur. In the afternoon she pottered with the General round the new pigsties, progressing as slowly as a local builder, anxious to keep his men in work, could make them. She was not alone again with Dornford until after tea.