Chapter Twenty-one
SHE had parted from the young man lightly, but she stood on the doorstep with nerves taut as fiddlestrings. Never having come into contact with mental trouble, her thought of it was the more scaring. The same elderly maid admitted her. Mrs Ferse was with Captain Ferse, and would Miss Cherrell come up to the drawing-room? Where Jean had been locked in Dinny waited some time. Sheila came in, said: ‘Hallo! Are you waiting for Muvver?’ and went out again. When Diana did appear her face wore an expression as if she were trying to collect the evidence of her own feelings.
‘Forgive me, my dear, I was going through papers. I’m trying my best to treat him as if nothing had happened.’ Dinny went up to her and stood stroking her arm.
‘But it can’t last, Dinny; It won’t last. I can see it won’t last.’
‘Let me come and stay. You can put it that it was arranged before.’
‘But, Dinny, it may be rather horrible. I don’t know what to do with him. He dreads going out, or meeting people. And yet he won’t hear of going away where nobody knows; and he won’t see a doctor, or take any advice. He won’t see anyone.’
‘He’ll see me, and that’ll accustom him. I expect it’s only the first few days. Shall I go off now and get my things?’
‘If you are going to be an angel, do!’
‘I’ll let Uncle Adrian know before I come back; he went down to the Home this morning.’
Diana crossed to the window and stood there with her back to Dinny. Suddenly she turned:
‘I’ve made up my mind, Dinny: I won’t let him down in any way. If there’s anything I can do to give him a chance, I’m going to do it.’
‘Bless you!’ said Dinny. ‘I’ll help!’ And not trusting either Diana or herself further, she went out and down the stairs. Outside, in passing the dining-room window, she was again conscious of a face with eyes, burningly alive, watching her go by. A feeling of tragic unfairness was with her all the way back to South Square.
Fleur said at lunch:
‘It’s no good fashing yourself till something happens, Dinny. It’s lucky that Adrian’s been such a saint. But this is a very good instance of how little the Law can help. Suppose Diana could have got free, it wouldn’t have prevented Ferse coming straight back to her, or her feeling about him as she does. The Law can’t touch the human side of anything. Is Diana in love with Adrian?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘No, I’m not. I find it difficult enough to know what goes on inside myself.’
‘Which reminds me that your American rang up. He wants to call.’
‘Well, he can. But I shall be at Oakley Street.’
Fleur gave her a shrewd look.
‘Am I to back the sailor then?’
‘No. Put your money on Old Maid.’
‘My dear! Unthinkable!’
‘I don’t see what one gains by marriage.’
Fleur answered with a little hard smile:
‘We can’t stand still, you know, Dinny. At least, we don’t; it’s too dull.’
‘You’re modern, Fleur; I’m medieval.’
‘Well, you are rather early Italian in face. But the early Italians never escaped. Entertain no flattering hopes. Sooner or later you’ll be fed up with yourself, and then!’
Dinny looked at her, startled by this flash of discernment in her disillusioned cousin-in-law.
‘What have you gained, Fleur?’
‘I at least am the complete woman, my dear,’ Fleur answered, drily.
‘Children, you mean?’
‘They are possible without marriage, or so I am told, but improbable. For you, Dinny, impossible; you’re controlled by an ancestral complex, really old families have an inherited tendency towards legitimacy. Without it they can’t be really old, you see.’
Dinny wrinkled her forehead.
‘I never thought of it before, but I should strongly object to having an illegitimate child. By the way, did you give that girl a reference?’
‘Yes. I don’t see at all why she shouldn’t be a mannequin. She’s narrow enough. I give the boyish figure another year, at least. After that, mark my words, skirts will lengthen and we shall go in for curves again.’
‘Rather degrading, isn’t it?’
‘How?’
‘Chopping and changing shape and hair and all that.’
‘Good for trade. We consent to be in the hands of men in order that they may be in ours. Philosophy of vamping.’
‘That girl won’t have much chance of keeping straight as a mannequin, will she?’
‘More, I should say. She might even marry. But I always refuse to worry about my neighbour’s morals. I suppose you have to keep up the pretence at Condaford, having been there since the Conquest. By the way, has your father made provision against Death Duties?’