Charles Snow - The Conscience of the Rich

‘I am delighted to have you adorning my house,’ said Mr March. ‘It isn’t often that my house has been so charmingly adorned.’

It was a speech of deliberate gallantry. It was so emphatic that Ann became flustered; she smiled back, but she could not make much of a reply.

Mr March went on: ‘I hope my son has not been excessively negligent in entertaining you until I arrived.’

‘Not at all,’ said Ann, still at a loss.

‘I am relieved to hear it,’ said Mr March.

‘But I didn’t give Katherine much of a game at tennis,’ she said over-brightly, casting round for words.

‘You shouldn’t let them inveigle you into action too soon after your arrival. I might remark that you’re paler than you ought to be, no doubt as a result of their lack of consideration.’

‘I’ve been looked after very nicely, Mr March—’

‘It’s extremely polite of you to say so,’ he said.

‘Really I have.’ She was getting over the first impact, and she answered without constraint, smiling both at him and Charles.

Soon afterwards Francis arrived, and I watched Katherine’s eyes as his plunging stride brought him through the drawing-room, over the terrace, down to the lawn. Tea was brought out to us, and we ate raspberries and cream in the sunshine.

After tea we played tennis; then, when Mr March went in to dress, Katherine took Francis for a walk round the rose garden, and I left the other two together. I strolled down the drive before going to my room; the stocks were beginning to smell, now the heat of the day was passing, and the scent came to me as though to heighten, and at the same time to touch with languor, the emotions I had been living among that afternoon.

When I left Ann and Charles, their faces had been softened and glowing. No one would say that either was in love, but each was in the state when they knew at least that love was possible. They were still safe; they need not meet again; he could still choose not to ask her, she could still refuse; and yet, while they did not know each other, while they were still free, there was a promise of joy.

It seemed a long time since I had known that state, I thought, as the smell of the stocks set me indulging my own mood. It had gone too soon, and I had discovered other meanings in love. I wondered how long it would last for them.

Evening was falling, and as I turned back towards the house its upper windows shone like blazing shields in the last of the sunlight. Looking up, I felt a trace of worry about Francis and Katherine; I felt a trace of self-pity because Charles and Ann might be lucky; but really, walking back to the house through the warm air, I was enjoying being a spectator, I was excited about it all.

At dinner Mr March was not subdued and acceptant, as he had been at that table a few hours before. Instead, he intervened in each conversation and produced some of his more unpredictable retorts. So far as I could notice, his glance did not stay too long on Katherine, whose face was fresh with happiness as she talked to Francis. He interrupted her, but only as he interrupted the rest of us, in order to stay the centre of attention. It was hard to be sure whether his high spirits were genuine or not.

Once or twice Mr March waited for a response from Ann, who sat, dressed all in black except for an aquamarine brooch on her breast, at his right hand. She was quiet, she was deferential, she laughed at his stories, but it was not until after dinner that Mr March forced her into an argument.

We had moved into the drawing-room, and Mr March sent for the footman to open more windows. There we sat, the lights on, the curtains undrawn and the windows open, while Mr March proceeded by way of the day’s temperature to talk to Francis, who was going to Corsica for a month’s holiday before the October term.

‘I hope you will insist on ignoring any salad they may be misguided enough to offer you. My daughter last year failed to show competent discretion in that respect. Caroline made a similar frightful ass of herself just before the earthquake at Messina. The disaster might have been avoided if she had possessed the gumption to keep sufficiently suspicious of all foreigners—’

‘If you mean me, Mr L,’ Katherine said, ‘I’ve proved to you that being ill in Venice can’t have had anything to do with what I ate abroad.’

‘I refuse to accept your assurances,’ said Mr March. ‘I hope you too will refuse to accept my daughter’s assurances,’ he said to Francis. In each remark he made to Francis, Katherine was listening for an undertone: but she heard none, and protested loudly because she was relieved. Mr March shouted her down, and went on talking to Francis: ‘I should be sorry if my daughter’s example lured you into risks that would probably be fatal to your health.’

‘As I’ve spent an hour before dinner trying to persuade him not to climb mountains without a guide,’ said Katherine, ‘I call that rather hard.’

‘She definitely disapproves of the trip,’ said Francis. ‘She can’t be blamed for not discouraging me enough.’

‘I should advise you to ignore any of her suggestions for your welfare,’ said Mr March.

It sounded no more than genial back-chat. Katherine kept showing her concern for Francis. She could not resist showing it: to do so was a delight. Yet Mr March gave no sign that he saw him as a menace.

Mr March left off talking to Francis, and addressed us all: ‘My experience is that foreigners can always tempt one to abandon any sensible habit. I have never been able to understand why it is considered necessary to intrude oneself among them on the pretext of obtaining pleasure. Hannah always said that she came to life abroad, but I don’t believe that she was competent to judge. Since I married my wife I have preferred to live in my own houses where foreigners are unlikely to penetrate. The more I am compelled to hear of foreign countries, the less I like them. I am sure that my charming guest will agree with me,’ he said confidentially to Ann.

Ann was embarrassed. ‘I don’t think I should go quite as far as that, Mr March,’ she said.

‘You’ll come to it in time, you’ll come to it in time,’ cried Mr March. ‘Why, you must be too young to remember the catastrophe foreigners involved us in fifteen years ago.’

‘I was nine,’ she said.

‘I am surprised to hear that you weren’t even more of an infant. I should be prepared to guarantee that you will keep your present youth and beauty until you are superannuated. But still you can’t conceivably remember the origins of that unfortunate catastrophe. You can’t remember how we were bamboozled by foreigners and entangled in continental concerns that were no affair of ours—’

Mr March went on to develop a commentary, jingoistic and reactionary, on the circumstances of the 1914–18 war. He had the habit of pretending to be at the extreme limit of reaction, just because he knew that Charles’ friends were nearly all of them on the left. But we did not argue with him; when politics came up among the senior Marches, we usually avoided trouble and kept our mouths shut,

As she listened, Ann was frowning. She glanced at Charles, then at me, as though expecting us to contradict. When Mr March paused for a breathing space, she hesitated; she started to talk and checked herself. But the next time he stopped, she did not hesitate. In a tone timid, gentle but determined, she said: ‘I’m sorry, Mr March, but I’m afraid I can’t believe it.’

‘I should be glad to be enlightened on what you do believe,’ said Mr March, preserving his gallant manner.

Still quietly and uneasily, Ann told him, without any covering up, that she did not accept any of his views about the war, or nations, or the causes of politics.