Ivy Compton-Burnett - The Mighty and Their Fall

Lavinia obeyed Miss Starkie’s sign and followed her. She did not question the decision. It spelt escape.

“I have come back to have my way. I am the man I was. And no one will care what I do. In outstaying my welcome I have outstayed everything else. But I have come to be near my home, and to leave what I have to support it. Money comes to the just and unjust. It has come in a measure to me. I have resisted temptation and yielded to it. There is not much in many lives. I can rescue the niece who has met it. She will be with me and order my house. And at the same time I serve myself. Yes, your thought is true and clear. And now I will be with my mother. She and I have the shortest future, and have shared the least of the past.”

“You know I have married a wife,” said Ninian. “You will be a friend to her?”

“Yes, I know. And I have seen and heard. And I am her friend.”

Ransom sat down by Selina, and she heard him and understood. Her son had returned to her to leave her. He had numbered his days.

Ninian waited for a time and then came up to them.

“Ransom, we rejoice that you are with us. We wish we could rejoice more. It is your health that brings you to us? You would not be here, if you were well?”

“It is true. I bring my doomed self to those who have not seen my prime. I return to my mother less as a joy than a grief. But from you I should have a welcome. Her loss will be your gain. My death will ensure your future. It is you who will have what is mine. The place that calls for it is yours.”

“The welcome is from all of us,” said Ninian, passing over the last words. “And indeed you have it. And you must not give up hope.”

“I have done what I could, asked and followed what I could. My heart has had its day. I have worked it hard. I have lived hard myself. It has to fail in its time. But here is something I can do first.”

“I am dazzled by you, Ransom,” said Hugo. “I don’t mean you put me in the shade, as I no longer notice it. I look out on a light. You bring out the poet in me. I know there is one in you.”

“Have you always been here?” said Ransom.

“That is a question hard to forgive. But I am a person who must forgive it. Yes. Where else should I have been?”

“What have you been doing all these years?”

“No one could forgive that. And even I cannot answer it.”

“There can be no answer. I have none myself. You compare well enough with me.”

“No, there is wonder in returning. And after we had given up hope. That adds to your value, though it hardly seems it should. And what wonder is there in always being here? The kind you showed.”

“A better kind, my boy,” said Selina. “A kind we feel without knowing it.”

“But I wish you knew it. You know you feel the other kind.”

“Now I am in the shade,” said Ransom. “We may be two dimmed figures. But we have the third.”

“Now listen to me,” said Miss Starkie’s voice. “You are not here to attract attention. I have brought you to greet your uncle. You will just say Goodnight and go.”

“That is not greeting him,” said Hengist.

“Well, it hardly is,” said Ransom, with his eyes on them. “I will accept a little more. How are you both?”

“We are quite well, thank you,” said Leah.

“I am glad to hear it. I cannot say the same.”

“You look quite well,” said Hengist.

“Perhaps he is ashamed of it,” said Leah. “Cook and Nurse would be.”

“How do you do, Uncle?” said Agnes. “I think you are like Grandma.”

“Do you see that for yourself?” said Ransom, looking at her.

“She has heard people say it,” said Hengist.

“Do you think I am like her?” said his uncle.

“No, you are too — you are not as thin as she is.”

“Well, I am a very sick man.”

“That would make him thin,” said Leah.

“Hush; it does not always,” said Miss Starkie. “Now that is enough. Say Goodnight and come away.”

The children kissed Selina and their father, smiled at Teresa and went to the door.

“Have you forgotten me already?” said Ransom.

“We don’t go round to everyone,” said Leah. “We didn’t go to Uncle Hugo, and we can’t have forgotten him.”

“You could have said Goodnight on the first day,” said Miss Starkie, in a tone without hope. “You know I brought you down on purpose.”

“Why are you staying so late?” said Hengist, in one without gratitude.

“I have been helping Lavinia. She is going to stay with your uncle.”

“So he doesn’t mind what she has done,” said Leah.

“You will not speak of it,” said Miss Starkie.

“We don’t mind about it either,” said Hengist. “So we shouldn’t say anything that mattered.”

“You will say nothing at all,” said Miss Starkie, as she closed the door.

“It is late for me to know them,” said Ransom to his brother. “And they will not have time to know me. I shall not be missed.”

“Which do you take to the most?”

“The small, dark girl of those. Most of all to the girl who will be mine. I saw and heard before you did.”

“You could hardly have understood.”

“I had Miss Starkie at my elbow. There you have chosen well. I was not long in the dark.”

“She does make her impression on people,” said Selina.

“Lavinia needs a change,” said Ninian. “She can be with you for a time.”

“She has no choice. Where else is she to be?”

“She could stay in her home. What if you had not returned?”

“We will shun the thought, as she does.”

“What shall we do without her?” said Egbert.

“You can stand on your own feet,” said his father.

“Neither of us does so. We depend on each other.”

“Come to see her when you like,” said Ransom.

“Thank you, Uncle, I will.”

“I will not come often at first,” said Ninian.

“No, you must earn your welcome.”

“I am Lavinia’s father.”

“So you are learning it. Come when you have done so.”

“You talk as if I were a stern father. Lavinia has not been dealt with hardly. She has to learn right from wrong. Indeed she knows it.”

“There are many kinds of wrong, as has been said.”

“If Lavinia were your child, you would feel as I do.”

“We cannot be sure. I hope I should feel as I do now.”

“Unmarried people’s children are always the best managed.”

“If that is true, take a lesson from one.”

“I may come with Egbert to see Lavinia?” said Hugo.

“Yes, as often as you please.”

“And I too?” said Teresa.

“Yes, yes, as often.”

“I don’t see much good in her leaving home, if she is to be followed by everyone,” said Ninian.

“Not by everyone,” said Ransom. “And not to her home.”

“Ransom, I am glad from my heart to welcome you. And grieved to my heart by the news of your health. I hope my girl will be a comfort to you. I may be allowed to say that.”

“I hope so too. I have thought of it. I shall serve myself.”

“You will not take a light view of the trouble? It is the last thing for her at this time.”

“I take none. At this time, as you say. She has her own knowledge of it.”

“Well, I can do nothing,” said Ninian.

“No, you have done what you could. We say that no one can do more. And that may be fortunate, considering the conditions under which it is usually said.”

“You talk in a strange way. Lavinia has been my dearest child.”

“Has been? What is she? What is she to be? You needed a companion and used her as one. And threw her away when you chose another. It had to lead to something, and it led to this. It means nothing.”