Henry Green - Nothing

"Shouldn't let yourself get upset like this, a splendid little woman like you young enough to be his daughter."

"I suppose it's like so many men" she gave judgment aloud "who imagine no girl can look at a male older than herself. But you're wrong, think of history, anything! As a matter of fact to tell you a little secret about me which I truly trust you not to breathe, I've always been attracted to older men."

"Have you by Jove!"

"Yes, isn't that strange. But I don't like little old men, they have to be great big hussars if they are older. So now yon know!"

"Not for me" he said. "I go for the young ones."

"Oh no you can't mean little girls" she cried. "Pigtails and tunics!"

"l say what must you think Liz" he expostulated. "Nothing of the sort. I should hope not. No to tell the truth it's young women of your age, young 'but old enough to be women if you get what I mean."

"Jane" she enthusiastically cried "Richard's just paid me the sweetest compliment! He's said what he likes about me is I'm young but with all the allure of experience!!"

"My dear how clever of Richard" Mrs Weatherby dryly rejoined.

"No not all that" Miss Jennings appealed to the wine waiter who was filling her glass to the brim once more only she didn't lift it to stop him. Mr Pomfret slightly raised his eyebrows, then Jane and he descended back into their own conversation.

"But I think it's one of the nicest things have ever been said to me" she purred at Mr Abbot" I feel just like one of your cats when you've given her cream."

"True right enough" he stoutly averred.

"It had the ring of truth" Miss Jennings said. "Everything you say has, I think that's my real reason why I like you so. You're such a wonderfully honest person Richard."

"Can't understand people saying what they don't mean. Doesn't make sense."

"And honest about yourself" she continued "which is the rarest thing in the world, pure gold."

IT WAS almost as if, in time, the party had leaped forward between those mirrors, so much had been recorded only to be lost, so much champagne had been consumed while, as day passes over a pond, no trace was left in any of their minds, or hardly none, just the vague memory of friendly weather, a fading riot of June stayed perhaps in their throats as the waiters withdrew though three or four remained to serve coffee, brandy and port.

This was the moment chosen by Philip Weatherby to make his empty tumbler ring to a stroke of the knife, to rise with one hand of Mary's in his own while she stayed seated, to look so white as he examined the guests from the advantage he had taken, that of surprise and the five foot ten of height.

"Oh the dear boy" his mother said to John Pomfret. "He's going to propose my health, or so I do believe the saint."

"I-ah-er" her son began while Miss Pomfret squeezed Philip's fingers.

"But who put it in his sweet head?" Mrs Weatherby asked entranced. "Darling was this your idea?" she demanded and had no answer.

"I-well you see-that is-" Mr Weatherby began again while all the older people looked up at him with smiling faces, with that kind of withdrawn encouragement we use by which to judge how much better we could do this sort of thing ourselves, and Jane beamed as if in a seventh heaven. "Ladies and gentlemen" he tried once more "we are here tonight to celebrate my twenty-firster." He now started to speak very fast. "My mother which is kind of her gave this party" he went on "and I'm sure we've all very much enjoyed things, the festive occasion and so on, but Mary and I thought now or never which is why we want to announce that we're engaged."

He sat down. A hum of fascinated comment was direefed like bees to honey in his direction. Mary hardly glanced at her father but darted quick looks about the room while Jane turned to John Pomfret, one hand pressed to the soft mound above her heart and hissed, "Is this your doing? Did you know of it?"

"Good God good for them. First I've heard" he said.

"Oh my dear" she cried "I feel faint."

Not that Mr Pomfret appeared to pay heed. A pale smile was stuck across his face while he looked about as though to receive tribute. But the attention of almost everyone in that room was still fixed on the awkward happy couple, and Elaine Winder smacked their backs and generally behaved as if she were in at a kill.

"Oh my dear" Mrs Weatherby groaned rising majestically from her place.

This movement repeated a thousand thousand times on every side brought each one of those present to his or her feet, except at Philip's table where they sat on transfixed in their moment and Miss Winder's exuberance. Mr Pomfret stood up also. As Jane began to make her way towards Mary he followed and the guests started clapping.

A naturally graceful woman, Mrs Weatherby was superb while she crossed the room afloat between one tall mirror and the other, a look of infinite humility on her proud features. The occasion's shock and excitement had raised her complexion to an even brighter glow, a magnificent effulgence of what all felt she must feel at this promise of grandsons and, at that, from the daughter of what most of them knew to be an old flame with whom she had continued the best of old friends.

Tears stood in many eyes. Some men even cheered discreetly.

And when Jane came to their table she folded Mary Pomfret into so wonderful an embrace while the child half rose from her chair to greet it that not only was the girl's hair not touched or disarranged in this envelopment, but as Mrs Weatherby took the young lady to her heart it must have seemed to most the finest thing they had ever seen, the epitome of how such moments should be, perfection in other words, the acme of manners, and memorable as being the flower, the blossoming of grace and their generation's ultimate instinct of how one should ideally behave.

Mr Pomfret pumped Philip's hand.

Jane was whispering to Mary, "Oh aren't you clever not to have said a word, you clever darling."

One or two of the male guests called for a speech.

Mrs Weatherby disengaged herself with infinite gentleness, held her future daughter-in-law at arm's length as a judge holds a prize lily at the show, then turned to Philip, She leaned forward offering a cheek. When he pecked this once, she did not push it smartly back at him. She held firm while John kissed his daughter on the chino Next she linked arms with both the intended while Mr Pomfret hung at the edge. A fresh storm of clapping greeted this group and now most of the men called for a speech.

Mrs Weatherby nodded like royalty right and left. She wore what might have been called a brave little smile.

But once the appeals for her to say a few words with many a "yes do darling" from the ladies, the moment this clamour grew too insistent Jane whispered to Philip and, with an arm still under Mary's she walked through the uproar back to her table. Philip and John followed each with a chair. It was noticeable how frightened the girl looked, as was perhaps only natural.

Liz kissed the four of them in turn, the applause rose to a crescendo, and the family group, if Miss Jennings could be said to be of the family, sat down. Once they were all seated it was seen that Richard Abbot had effaced himself, had joined Elaine Winder and her young man at their table where, however, he was now without a chair. This a wine waiter fetched him.

John was first to speak.

" Champagne" he cried to another servant. "We must all have a toast."

"My dear tlhe bill!" Jane said in a low voice.

"Oh will you eve forgive us?" his daughter tremulously asked.

"This is on me" Mr Pomfret explained. "Bring the champagne glasses back" he ordered. "Order another dozen bottles. We shall have to toast 'em" he shouted to the room. Cries of "Good old John" greeted his yell. One of the male guests, rather drunk, seemed about to become dazed.