The Forsyte Saga, Volume 3(5)

Her mother was standing by the tea table.

‘The train’s late,’ she said. ‘I do wish Clare wouldn’t drive so fast.’

‘I don’t see the connexion, darling.’ But she did. Mother was always fidgety when Father was behind time.

‘Mother, I’m all for Hubert sending his version to the papers.’

‘We shall see what your Father says – he’ll have talked to your Uncle Lionel.’

‘I hear the car now,’ said Dinny.

The General was followed into the room by his younger daughter. Clare was the most vivid member of the family. She had dark fine shingled hair and a pale expressive face, of which the lips were slightly brightened. The eyes were brown, with a straight and eager glance, the brow low and very white. Her expression was old for a girl of twenty, being calm and yet adventurous. She had an excellent figure and walked with an air.

‘This poor dear has had no lunch, Mother,’ she said.

‘Horrible cross-country journey, Liz. Whisky-and-soda and a biscuit’s all I’ve had since breakfast.’

‘You shall have an egg-nogg, darling,’ said Dinny, and left the room. Clare followed her.

The General kissed his wife. ‘The old boy looked very fine, my dear, though, except for Adrian, we only saw him after. I shall have to go back for the funeral. It’ll be a swell affair, I expect. Great figure – Uncle Cuffs. I spoke to Lionel about Hubert; he doesn’t see what can be done. But I’ve been thinking.’

‘Yes, Con?’

‘The whole point is whether or not the Authorities are going to take any notice of that attack in the House. They might ask him to send in his commission. That’d be fatal. Sooner than that he’d better hand it in himself. He’s due for his medical on October the first. Can we pull any strings without his knowing ? – the boy’s proud. I can go and see Topsham and you could get at Follanby, couldn’t you?’

Lady Cherrell made wry her face.

‘I know,’ said the General, ‘it’s rotten; but the real chance would be Saxenden, only I don’t know how to get at him.’

‘Dinny might suggest something.’

‘Dinny? Well, I suppose she has more brains than any of us, except you, my dear.’

‘I,’ said Lady Cherrell, ‘have no brains at all.’

‘Bosh! Oh! Here she is.’

Dinny advanced, bearing a frothy liquor in a glass.

‘Dinny, I was saying to your mother that we want to get into touch with Lord Saxenden about Hubert’s position. Can you suggest any way?’

‘Through a country neighbour, Dad. Has he any?’

‘His place marches with Wilfred Bentworth’s.’

‘There it is, then. Uncle Hilary or Uncle Lawrence.’

‘How?’

‘Wilfred Bentworth is Chairman of Uncle Hilary’s Slum Conversion Committee. A little judicious nepotism, dear.’

‘Um! Hilary and Lawrence were both at Porthminster – wish I’d thought of that.’

‘Shall I talk to them for you, Father?’

‘By George, if you would, Dinny! I hate pushing our affairs.’

‘Yes, dear. It’s a woman’s job, isn’t it?’

The General looked at his daughter dubiously – he never quite knew when she was serious.

‘Here’s Hubert,’ said Dinny, quickly.





Chapter Three




HUBERT CHERRELL, followed by a spaniel dog and carrying a gun, was crossing the old grey flagstones of the terrace. Rather over middle height, lean and erect, with a head not very large and a face weathered and seamed for so young a man, he wore a little darkish moustache cut just to the edge of his lips, which were thin and sensitive, and hair with already a touch of grey at the sides. His browned cheeks were thin too, but with rather high cheek-bones, and his eyes hazel, quick and glancing, set rather wide apart over a straight thin nose under gabled eyebrows. He was, in fact a younger edition of his father. A man of action, forced into a state of thought, is unhappy until he can get out of it; and, ever since his late leader had launched that attack on his conduct, he had chafed, conscious of having acted rightly, or rather, in accordance with necessity. And he chafed the more because his training and his disposition forbade him giving tongue. A soldier by choice, not accident, he saw his soldiering imperilled, his name as an officer, and even as a gentleman, aspersed, and no way of hitting back at those who had aspersed it. His head seemed to him to be in Chancery for anyone to punch, most galling of experiences to anyone of high spirit. He came in through the French window, leaving dog and gun outside, aware that he was being talked about. He was now constantly interrupting discussions on his position, for in this family the troubles of one were the troubles of all. Having taken a cup of tea from his mother, he remarked that birds were getting wild already, covert was so sparse, and there was silence.