Charles Snow - The Conscience of the Rich

When Mr March went to bed, Margaret settled down in her armchair. She was older than the rest of us, but still not married; she had a similar handsomeness to Charles’, and a similar hard, ruthless mind. Yet underneath, at the thought of any of our marriages, she was full of feeling. That night, she noticed the constraint in the air. Naturally she put it down to Mr March. So she said to Katherine: ‘I’m sure he has come round now. I’m positive you haven’t got anything to fear.’

‘I suppose not,’ said Katherine.

Margaret had spoken warmly and protectively. She was surprised, a little put out, to feel us all still in suspense. She turned for confirmation to Charles: ‘Don’t you agree that she’s safe enough?’

‘She ought to be,’ said Charles.

‘I wouldn’t have believed that Mr L could come round so quickly.’ Like her cousins, Margaret was not above plucking away at the same nerve. ‘He’s now drawn up your settlement good and proper, hasn’t he?’

‘Yes, he’s gone as far as that,’ Katherine replied.

Charles kept watching me, knowing I was not going to speak while Margaret was there. But Katherine was not so much on edge. At the mention of the settlement, she began to smile. ‘I’ve actually got it here,’ she said to Margaret.

She went to the writing-desk and brought out a sealed envelope. She broke the seal and looked over the document inside. It was printed, and ran into several pages.

‘I still think this is extremely funny,’ she said.

‘You don’t know what I shall become as I get older,’ Francis said, and they laughed at each other.

‘The point is,’ Katherine went on, ‘that really Mr L has the greatest possible confidence in Francis. Apart from his not being a Jew. Actually, Francis would have been a far more suitable child for Mr L than Charles. He wouldn’t have rebelled anything like as much.’

‘I should have managed,’ said Francis. His cheeks were creased by a smile, but he meant it. He would have found his way to his science somehow; he would have been radical, but he would have kept quiet. That night his quixotic, fine-drawn expression was less evident than it used to be; he looked composed and well.

‘Well,’ said Katherine, ‘it’s obvious that Mr L approves of the man. But as soon as he drew up my settlement’ — she pointed to the sheet in front of her — ‘he at once acted on the assumption that I was an imbecile and Francis was a crook. He’s taken every possible precaution to see that Francis never touches a penny. The settlement never gives him a chance. When I die, the money goes straight to our children. If Francis outlives me, he receives a small tip for watching his sons inherit their slice of their grandfather’s estate.’

All the marriage settlements in the family followed the same pattern; no one but a March should handle March money. Katherine and Charles had been amused, but nevertheless they took for granted the whole apparatus as an ordinary part of a marriage: while in the property-less world into which I had been born, no one would have known what a marriage settlement was.

I mentioned that I had never seen one. Katherine was just going to show me theirs, but Francis said: ‘I think Mr L would be shocked — even though it’s Lewis.’

‘You mean you’d be shocked yourself,’ said Katherine, but slipped the papers into the envelope again.

It was nearly midnight, and Margaret rose to go.

As she said goodbye, she noticed that I was staying. Her bright eyes looked keenly, uncomfortably round, worried because there was something wrong, self-conscious because she had been in the way.

We heard the butler taking her across the hall.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Charles, the moment the door clanged. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Is anything wrong with Sheila?’ said Katherine.

‘It’s nothing like that,’ I said. I told the story.

Katherine cried: ‘Will he bring it out in the next three weeks? Before we’re married?’

‘No one knows,’ I said. ‘In any case, we may all be taking it too seriously—’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Charles. ‘Herbert Getliffe is right, it’s the sort of affair the family wouldn’t like. You mustn’t worry,’ he said to Katherine. ‘It ought to be possible to stop Porson yet.’

‘That must be tried,’ said Francis. ‘There’s plenty to do. We’ll break the jobs down in a minute.’

Suddenly he had taken charge. He had the decision, the capacity for action, of a highly strung man who had been able to master his nerves. It was easy at that instant to understand the influence he had had on Charles when they were undergraduates, with Francis two years older.

He spoke straight to Katherine as though they were alone.

‘The first thing is, we must prepare for the worst. We’ve got to assume that he’ll act on it. It’s better to assume that right away. If he does, we shan’t let the family make any difference.’

‘That’s easier said than done,’ said Katherine. ‘But — no, we shan’t.’

‘Good work,’ said Francis, and took her hand. ‘Now let’s get down to it. Lewis, tell us the practical steps Porson can take. If he wants to make as much fuss as possible. We want all the details you can give us.’

Sharply he asked me: could Porson start anything more damaging than a parliamentary question? How long did it take to get a parliamentary question asked? Could it be delayed? Could we find out the moment it began to pass through the department?

Francis arranged that on the next day I should try to see Porson. Charles would see Albert Hart, who might have an acquaintance in the department. Francis himself would speak to his brother.

That settled, Francis looked at Katherine, and said with a smile, tart and yet distressed:

‘I’m sorry that my brother should be responsible for this. It isn’t altogether his fault. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been listening to his latest manoeuvre. He’s got too much energy for one man. That’s what has made him a success.’

He had just surprised me by being more effective than any of us. Now he surprised me again — by showing something he had never shown before, his true relation to his half-brother.

Occasionally he had not been able to disguise his shame and anger at one of Herbert’s tricks: but he had usually spoken of him very much as Charles used to speak, with amusement at his exploits, with indifference, with humorous disapproval. His apology to Katherine had torn that cover aside. Now we saw the affection, the indulgent, irritated, and above all admiring affection, which a man like Herbert Getliffe so often inspires in his nearest circle; so that Herbert’s children, for example, would come to worship him and make his extravaganzas into a romance. That was true even of Francis, so responsible and upright.

Francis soon controlled his smile, so that the distress was no longer visible. His expression became commanding and active.

‘It’s clear what must be done,’ he said. ‘I think it’s all set. You’ll do what you can with Porson, Lewis? I don’t like to involve you in this business, but if it can be stopped it would be convenient.’

‘It probably can be stopped,’ said Charles. He was trying to reassure Katherine on a different plane from Francis’. ‘I’ll see Ann first thing tomorrow. She may know more about Porson. And there is something I might be able to say to the family myself.’

From the night of Getliffe’s warning, there were nineteen days before the wedding. On the first of them I could not find Ronald Porson, but within forty-eight hours of the news from Getliffe I had managed to have a long talk with him. I was able to assure Katherine that there did not seem much to fear.