Ivy Compton-Burnett - Parents and Children

Ridley was leaning over the desk, his hand clutching the air above the paper. There was a silence that became a hush and then a stir. Fulbert rose and came towards Ridley and stood waiting for him to turn. Eleanor approached the group, and finding herself between the two men, moved nearer to her husband. Regan rustled forward, simply and fiercely accusing. Sir Jesse stood with his eyes shooting from under his brows, but so far reserving his word. Luce stood with a simply startled face. Faith watched from her place, her gaze fastened on her brother. Hope and Paul remained in their seats, now and then meeting each other’s eyes. Daniel came and stood by his parents, Graham and Isabel looked at Ridley, as if they could not hold themselves from following his experience. The children watched in different stages of comprehension, Gavin awaiting the reproach that was his due.

‘What is it?’ he whispered to Honor.

‘Nothing to do with you. It is not you who have done anything.’

‘Gavin didn’t mean to do it,’ said Nevill to his mother, feeling this to be an unlikely view.

‘So, Ridley,’ said Fulbert, speaking with his head lifted, and his eyes almost covered by their lids, ‘I have had this kind of friend.’

Ridley appeared to be preoccupied by the notebook and some loosened pages.

‘I didn’t tear the book,’ said Gavin.

‘If you will pardon me, you did,’ said Ridley, smiling at him in an absent manner.

‘Be quiet, and you will be forgotten,’ said Honor, to her brother.

‘So my letter arrived to time,’ said Fulbert, not changing his attitude.

Ridley kept his eyes on the book, carefully replacing the leaves.

‘The notebook is useful,’ said Regan. ‘And not for the first time. What would have happened when my son came home? His wife would have been his own.’

‘In name,’ said Ridley, in a gentle tone, his fingers still employed, and his eyes on them. ‘But we should have remained together. Your son would have had ground for any step he chose. Eleanor would have been happier in her own home with me. This house is no home to her. Why should I not think of her and myself?’ He seemed to keep his voice to its even note by an effort, as if he would not work himself up for his hearers. ‘Why should I only think of a man, whose sole thought of me was to put me to his service? Why should I serve him? Why did he think that I should? Why is he so much better than I?’

Sir Jesse thrust himself between Ridley and Regan, his hands falling at his sides, as if his emotions took all his powers.

‘You may cease to talk to my wife. Why should she hear and answer you? You may be silent in my house. And as you are the son of my friend, you may leave it at your own will. I will not speak to you of my son; I could not do so.’

Ridley turned as if to do Sir Jesse’s bidding, but as he passed him, paused and opened the notebook and drew something else from the back. He held it under Sir Jesse’s eyes, and then moved on and held it under Regan’s.

‘You are right that the book is useful. It proves to be so once again. It has served several of my purposes.’

Sir Jesse was not in time to find his glasses. Regan had hers in her hand and looked at the photograph. She looked also at Ridley’s hand, saw that its grasp was firm, threw one glance at her husband and returned to the hearth.

Ridley moved on and held the photograph under the eyes of Fulbert, his wife and his three eldest children. Hope left her place and came and looked at it; Paul followed her example; Isabel summoned her courage and did the same. Sir Jesse, who by now had guessed its character, came up and confirmed his suspicion and moved away. Regan kept her eyes down and wore an inscrutable expression. Faith glanced at her parents and turned aside, as if she would not yield to curiosity.

The photograph was of a man and a woman, sitting in a loverlike attitude, with their arms entwined: Sir Jesse and the mother of the Marlowes.

Ridley’s voice was heard again.

‘You see I am not the only man who can go astray. I found that photograph amongst some business papers. It was taken years ago in South America, and it tells us what happened there. I took it with the intention of destroying it, but you set me another example. I will show that I am not the only person with the temptations of a man, and not the only one who can yield to them.’

‘Why did you not fulfil your intention?’ said Regan from the hearth.

Luce beckoned to Isabel and Venice and James, and led them to the door, bending to say a word to Regan.

‘Grandma, some of us are too young to understand. And some of us are of an age when we must understand. These three are in between.’

Regan nodded and smiled, her face almost placid.

The three children left the room, Isabel at once startled and satisfied, James too puzzled even to be curious, Venice baffled and tormented, but encouraged by the promise in her sister’s eyes.

‘If you judge me, so do I judge you,’ said Ridley to Sir Jesse. ‘And I say you are worse than I.’

He turned and went with bent head to the door, and seemed to thrust his way through it, as though it offered some tangible resistance. As he moved his hands the photograph fell; he groped for it, and Gavin, still angry and watchful, darted on it and surrendered it to Fulbert. Faith watched her brother go, and then moved slowly and as if hardly of her own will to Daniel and Graham, and revealed the subject of her words by a sudden glance at Sir Jesse. Fulbert returned to his children and the photographs scattered on the floor.

‘Well, which picture would you like?’ he said, resuming his seat and bending towards Nevill.

Nevill gathered up the photographs and poured them over Fulbert’s knees.

‘They are all Father’s,’ he said.

‘He may see a photograph as a sinister object,’ said Graham.

‘I didn’t tear the paper,’ said Gavin.

‘We know you did not, my boy,’ said Eleanor.

‘Gavin took great care,’ said Nevill.

‘I feel grateful to Gavin,’ said Daniel. ‘He has ended the necessity of feeling pity for Ridley.’

‘I don’t know, Daniel,’ said Luce. ‘Is our pity any less? Of course we have other feelings.’

‘Which picture do you like best?’ said Fulbert, to Nevill.

‘He will have that one Mr Ridley had.’

‘Father has it in his pocket,’ said Gavin.

‘Perhaps he has a pencil too,’ said Nevill.

‘I will find you one tomorrow,’ said Fulbert.

‘Grandpa spoke in a loud voice,’ said Nevill, ‘loud and angry. Mr Ridley did too.’

Sir Jesse sank into a chair at the sound of his name, as if it gave him some sort of release, and sat with his head and shoulders bent, with a suggestion that he was a broken man.

‘Who will live in the new house?’ said Gavin. ‘Now that Mother is not going to marry Mr Ridley.’

‘Mother will marry hum,’ said Nevill, ‘and have a nice house and not this one.’

‘Other people will live in it,’ said Honor.

‘Not other people,’ said Nevill.’ Mr Ridley wouldn’t let them.’

‘Perhaps he will live in it alone.’

‘No, not alone. He would be very angry.’

‘Which do you like best, Mr Ridley or Father?’ said Gavin suddenly to Eleanor, seeking to remedy his own situation by bringing forward hers.

‘Father is my husband,’ said Eleanor, without hesitation, ‘and we have always loved each other, and we always shall. But Ridley was good to me when I thought Father could not return, and I shall always be grateful to him. Some day you will understand.’

‘I understand now,’ said Honor. ‘He kept it a secret about Father’s coming back, so that he could marry you before people knew. He yielded to temptation.’