Ivy Compton-Burnett - Two Worlds and Their Ways

“And so we do,” said her stepson. “Everything has its bright side. Why should this be an exception, though I should almost have thought it might be? Father has the farm. You have the honour of giving it to him, and many other kinds of honour. Aunt Juliet has her own kind. Spode has an earring for his mother. I have had interest and excitement; it is dreadful, but I have had them; and Grandpa has too. The children will have understanding. I do not know what Aunt Lesbia has had.”

“I have had a shock, Oliver,” said Lesbia, with quiet distinctness. “And I do not think I am paying any less tribute to Maria than the rest of you, when I say that.”

“I think you are,” said Oliver.

“So, Miss Petticoat, you have been in the room all the time?” said Sir Roderick.

“Well, Sir Roderick, I did not know what to do. I was following the children upstairs, when Mrs. Cassidy arrived; and I paused to say the conventional things, and found myself involved in the group before I knew. I could not escape without attracting attention, and it seemed better to avoid that. No one seemed to notice me, and I hoped I was such a familiar figure, that I should not be noticed any more than the furniture—”

There was silence, as it was realised that this had largely been the case.

“Oh, come, Miss Petticoat, you are more to us than that,” said Sir Roderick. “And as regards discretion, we can rely on you as much — you will not betray us any more than … than as you say.”

“Need you ask, Sir Roderick? Am I a stranger to you?”

“Of course she is not,” murmured Juliet. “She has told him what she is.”

“And he seemed to follow her,” said Oliver.

“Do you feel you can remain with me, Miss Petticott?” said Maria.

“Do not hurt me, Lady Shelley. What do I know of your mutual lives, or of your claims upon each other?”

“That is a wise word,” said Mr. Firebrace. “After all I have taken here, anything that is mine is theirs.”

“He gave what was his to Spode,” murmured Oliver. “But it is nice to give it twice, so ungrudging. How the best is being brought out of everyone! Generally it only comes out of one person, as it did out of Maria.”

“Miss Petticott knows better,” said Maria. “And I am glad she does. If she did not, I could not leave the children in her hands.”

“Poor Miss Petticott! A middle course is so unrewarding. Or anyhow so unrewarded.”

“I do not ask reward, Mr. Shelley.”

“But you have it, Miss Petticoat,” said Sir Roderick, in a rather loud tone. “In our trust and affection and the other things worth having.”

“Father, do think what you are saying,” said Oliver. “We shall not know where to look.”

“I wish Lucius was here,” said Juliet. “We could depend so upon his silence.”

“It would be no good to us,” said her nephew. “Silence never does what has to be done. It would not show that we think nothing of the matter. It is not true that it is golden.”

Sir Roderick looked at his son with the expression that was almost of gratitude. He had not wished for his silence.

“There is almost too much of this generosity,” said Maria, with a break in her voice. “It would mean more, if there were less. All this care to avoid looking at the truth only means it cannot be faced.”

“But it can be,” said her stepson. “It has to be, to be grasped at all. I have never met a matter that called for closer attention.”

“There, there, my pretty, we have been clumsy, have we?” said Sir Roderick.

“You may have, Father. It is a thing I could not be. It is a quality that Maria likes, and I do see her point of view.”

“She does not want a too tactful and easy smoothing over of things. She is too honest to want anything but honesty in other people.”

“Honest!” said Maria.

“We never get honesty by itself,” said Juliet. “It is inseparable from other things, and the last ones to be coupled with it. Do not insist upon it, Maria. It would show us in such a bad light, and we have been so careful to present ourselves in a good one.”

“Yes, care has been taken,” said Lesbia.

“By you as well, Aunt Lesbia.”

“No, I do not think so, Oliver. I think I have appeared in an unconsidered one.”

“I am not going to pose as an authority upon honesty,” said Maria.

“Or to pose at all, my pretty. It is not in you. I know how you have wanted to make a clean breast of it all.”

“Have you really, Maria?” said Oliver. “I should so like to know.”

“Of course I have not. I could easily have done it. I meant the truth to remain hidden.”

“Easily have done it! No, no, no,” said Mr. Firebrace.

“Well, most truth does remain so,” said Oliver. “Think what would happen if it did not.”

“I do want to think,” said Juliet. “I have often thought.”

“We know in one case,” said Maria.

“There, there, my dear. Your nerves are all on edge,” said Sir Roderick. “And I do not wonder.”

“Ought you not to wonder, Father? You are losing the thread of things. I am in rather a carping mood. It is because I was accused of clumsiness.”

“It seems to me a mild accusation,” said Maria. “What could I be accused of? I have been accused of clumsiness all my life, and never been the worse.”

“Not by me, my pretty, not by me,” said Sir Roderick.

“Anyone who finds you so in any deep matter must be a poor judge, Lady Shelley,” said Miss Petticott.

“And it is a disgrace to excel in anything on the surface,” said Juliet.

“When people are sound at bottom,” said Mr. Firebrace, “who cares for so much smoothness on the top?”

“Now they have all accused Maria of clumsiness,” said Lesbia to Juliet, hardly moving her lips. “And, as she says, she is none the worse. I wonder if she is better.”

“My children will not know what I have done,” said Maria. “And they had to face my knowing what they had. How the heavier burdens fall on the helpless!”

“People who are not helpless would avoid them,” said Oliver.

“I actually did not think of my own stumble, when we were dealing with theirs. I gave the money to Roderick on that very day. I was as dishonest with myself as I was with other people.”

“Then clearly they have no cause to complain,” said Juliet. “That is a very rare equality.”

“You are upset, Maria, and hardly know what you say,” said her husband. “And I am sure you have every reason.”

“Of course she has not,” said Juliet. “She has so little reason, that I am going to give her more trouble and stay for the night.”

“I also should like to stay with you, Maria,” said Lesbia.

“Well, that is good news,” said Sir Roderick. “It will help us through what might have been an awkward evening. I mean it will be good for Maria to have your company, as she has been out of heart.”

“I wish Father would say what he means,” said Oliver.

“Does Lucius know you are here, my dear?” said Mr. Firebrace to Juliet.

“Yes, I told him I was coming. He did not ask for reasons. If he ever does, he can have one.”

“There is to be a secret between husband and wife,” said Lesbia.

“There is none between my wife and me,” said Sir Roderick. “And I do not thank Mr. Spode for it. I do not call this thing a secret. Maria did not want the left hand to know what the right hand was doing, did not want me to know how much she had done for me.”

“Of course it is not a secret,” said Juliet. “No one would count it.”

“I did not see Miss Petticoat go,” said Sir Roderick.

“I think I felt she was gone,” said Juliet. “We know that we do not see her. She has explained.”