Ivy Compton-Burnett - A Heritage and its History

“It may be that he knows,” said Julia.

“Then I wish I could know what he does say, and to whom he says it,” said her son.

“Sir Edwin is doing nothing wrong, Deakin,” said Julia.

“Well, ma’am, the words cover a wide ground.”

“You think he essentially is?” said Simon.

“Well, sir, if he had left things as they were, he would have remained where he was. He seems to have left his place. Though it is not for me to feel it.”

“It is a pleasant thing to hear. I am tired of being the one person to speak the truth.”

“I think we all stand together, sir. It is what is left.”

“Miss Graham will be Lady Challoner,” said Walter. “Had you thought of that?”

“Yes, it had struck me, sir. And I once hoped to use the words. But the years passed, and the mistress had the place. Now the time is late.”

“It sounds like Shakespeare,” said Walter.

“Well, sir, I understand he portrayed life. And that is what it is.”

“Everything comes into it,” said Julia.

“Yes, ma’am. It is a comprehensive term.”

“I have never felt less at ease,” said Julia. “How am I to yield a position that has never been mine? I cannot think of an example.”

“And not to be at ease is so humbling,” said Walter. “If only the cup would pass from us!”

“Walter, such words are not for our own lives.”

“But it is in those that things happen to us. There is nothing anywhere else.”

“It is no good to be clever at this moment,” said Simon.

“Oh, I thought it was rather brave.”

“What would my father say to the scene? We must ask ourselves that question.”

“He might in a way be glad of it,” said Julia. “He would not wish his brother to be alone.”

“It is a noble answer,” said Walter.

“I suppose he would expect him to be,” said Simon. “It is in a sense a debt to be paid.”

“He was not a person to exact payment,” said Julia.

“But he might accept it,” said Walter. “And no one could expect anyone to get over his death.”

“There may be no question of that. People may fill a place, because they cannot bear to have it empty.”

“I would not put up with it. Mine is to be filled with my memory.”

“That is the trouble,” said Simon, almost sighing. “A place has to be filled with something. And memories are at once not enough and too much.”

“Simon, you sometimes show us your real self,” said Julia.

Deakin came swiftly and silently through the hall.

“The sound of wheels!” said Walter. “How they are the heralds of fate!”

“Now here is my welcome,” said Rhoda’s voice. “To the family to which I belong, of which I am to be a part. I feel I shall become one. I shall find my place.”

“It is surely prepared for you,” said Simon.

“No, I am to make it. As yet it is not mine. It is a thing I must do for myself.”

“We have wished you were here oftener,” said Julia. “Now the wish is to be fulfilled.”

“It is a kind word. It falls on a grateful ear. Kindness at some moments does and means so much.”

“Would you like to come at once and see your room?”

“If it is mine, if it is no one else’s. I will take it from no one. It is for me to prove my claim.”

“It was my husband’s. He liked to be near his brother.”

“Then he would wish me to be so. He would yield the place. He would see me as the substitute that I am, the thing I am proud to be.”

“We are forgetting your existence, Uncle,” said Simon.

“It is a moment when you may do so.” “You know us better than that, Edwin,” said Julia.

“Well, it can be said of you and me.”

“Would you wish to have tea before you go upstairs, my lady?” said Deakin.

“If that is when Mrs. Challoner has it.”

“It is to be as you say,” said Julia.

“No, as you do, as it has always been. I am a member of your household, one of the many who look to you.”

“That is what Rhoda wishes,” said Sir Edwin. “She will not alter the order of things. It is to be in your hands, as it has been.”

“Yes, that is the basis of the future,” said his wife. “The roots have gone down. They are too deep to be disturbed.”

“You are sure it is your wish?” said Julia. “Of course you can change at any time. You can easily say the word.”

“I shall not say it. My word is said.”

“Will you pour out the tea? Or shall I be your deputy today?”

“You will do it for me, and all of us. Today and other days. As it was, so it is to be.”

“Where would you like to sit?”

“At the side by Edwin, where his brother sat. If I may have the place, if it prove to be mine.”

“Well, everything is settled,” said Sir Edwin. “And nothing more need be said. Simon, I can give you some time later, if you need my help.”

“Everything can wait until tomorrow, Uncle.”

“There is no reason for it. We can return to our usual ways.”

“It is good to have them,” said Rhoda. “They are what we need. I shall be grateful to share them, to make them my own.”

“And you will have something to give to us,” said Simon. “And we shall be the better in our turn.”

“Not as much as I shall be. It is I who take and do not give.”

“You will be glad to see your sister,” said Julia.

“My Fanny, my little one! It is what I shall be. It is the thing I ask of you, a welcome for her. Then the house will be my home.”

“I think I know how you like your tea,” said Julia.

“It is for you to remember, to care for those dependent on you. You see me as one of them.”

“I am spellbound by the scene,” murmured Walter. “I did not know such things could be.”

“What did you say?” said Sir Edwin.

“I said it was an unusual scene, Uncle.”

“It is not a scene,” said Rhoda. “It is something else. It is the filling of a blank, or rather a disguise of it.”

“It depends on what sense we give the words,” said Sir Edwin.

“To disguise a lack helps someone to suffer it. When to face it might be too much.”

“You are here in a spirit of courage,” said Simon, in a lower tone.

“I know what is asked of me. I am here to give it. I will not wish it was more. The risk would not be only mine.”

“I am going round the garden,” said Sir Edwin, with a hint in his voice that the scene was at an end. “If Rhoda will come with me, I shall not go alone.”

“Well, this is our gain,” said Julia, looking after them. “We shall not see him pacing those paths by himself. I have been afraid to look out of the window.”

“I am afraid to now,” said Walter. “I do not dare to face the sight. Are they walking close together?”

“Side by side, as your uncle is used to walking,” said his mother.

“There is a strangeness about everything. It is untrue in a deep sense.”

“Rhoda is sincere,” said Simon. “And she is wise not to undertake the house. It will be easier for her to withdraw, when the time comes.”

“Simon, you are beyond all hope,” said Julia. “And I agree that the scene was strange. There was something unreal in the surprise of it. I suppose I am right in taking her at her word?”

“There is nothing to question about her. She is doing her best for my uncle and all of us. She can hardly do more.”

“But is it what is good for herself? It will leave her at a loose end. She will have time on her hands. Your uncle has not much to spare.”

“She has her own resources. She has had to make them. The truth is that we are fortunate. Things might have been so different. With anyone else they would have been.”