Ivy Compton-Burnett - The Mighty and Their Fall

“It has its place. It will easily be found. The people in the house will know.”

Ninian took the key from a pocket of his purse.

“You would have kept it safe,” said Ransom.

“Yes, I am used to matters of trust. I have met with many.”

They talked for a while, Ninian with life, and Ransom feebly, with his eyes on his brother. When the others came in to say good-bye, he spoke again to him.

“Stay for a time, Ninian. You want to see your girl. Take them to the gate and come back to me.”

“I will stay indeed. It is what I should choose to do. Mother will be glad to hear of it.”

Ninian remained for a while at the gate, and returned to the house with his daughter. Ransom was sitting in the same chair, with a difference in himself. He waited until they were seated, and turned to a table and took up a document.

“This is not the will with the later date, Ninian.”

“Isn’t it? What is it?” said his brother, leaning forward. “Is it some other will? Yes, the date is earlier. How many did you make?”

“The two that you saw. This is the one you should have burnt.”

“Yes, I put it on the fire. What of it? This is another?”

“You know which it is. It is the one that should be ashes. I have been to the chest and found it.”

“Ah, so you are not so feeble as you claim to be,” said Ninian, smiling and shaking his head. “And I am glad of it, Ransom. It is good news. I hope it marks a turning-point in your health. Now what of the wills? Earlier and later! Later and earlier! You have found another and are puzzled by it.”

“I have found this one. The one you should have destroyed. I forced myself to reach the chest. I had a feeling that I should do so. And it was a sound one.”

“You mistrusted me and my preoccupations? Then why did you give me such a charge?”

“No one would be inattentive in a matter like this.”

“Well, did I make a muddle?” said Ninian, drawing in his brows. “Is this the will from the chest or another one?”

“You know there is no other. It is the will I asked you to burn. The will with the earlier date. The will that leaves everything to you. The ashes of the other are in the grate.”

“Why do you not do your own work, if you are so equal to it?”

“I am equal to nothing. You know my state. This effort is my last.”

Ninian remained with his eyes contracted on the will.

“There is nothing amiss with your sight. It is the kind that is good for reading. And you found it good.”

“Then there is something amiss with me ,” said Ninian lightly. “There must be, if you say the truth. I must have had a fit of mental blankness. I do have them at times. There is a good deal of strain in my life.”

“Then you stand it well. For you had a bout of something else. You read the wills quickly, and as quickly made up your mind. You thought I should not go to the desk, but took the key as a precaution. It was a moral blankness that fell on you. Your brain was doing its work.”

“You cannot know what you are implying, Ransom.”

“Well, you know. And so does Lavinia. That is enough. And I am implying nothing. I have used plain words.”

“I had no time to read two wills. They are the last things to read at a glance. They are so obscured by legal jargon.”

“You had time. I measured the minutes. You are familiar with them, as you said. And these were short and clear.”

“You have no proof of what you say. None that would count in a court of law.”

“It counts in this house. And that is where we are.”

“You can’t really think that I read them. This is just an act.”

“If you can tell me what is in this one, I will let it stand.”

Ninian smiled and shook his head.

“Then I will make the other again.”

“I do not grudge anyone what you leave her. I should wish the choice to be yours.”

“ Her ? And you did not read the wills.”

“Oh, it was an obvious guess. Anyone would have made it.”

“It was a slip, not a guess. It is hard to keep a hold on everything. Both of you found it so. Neither of you is versed in ill-doing. Each of you has something of the other.”

“Are you versed in it yourself, Ransom? That you prepare the way for it for someone else? It was a poor idea. Are you not ashamed of it?”

“I am not as ashamed as you must be. As I see you are. But we do not leave the matter there. You know what should be said: we have heard you say it; you have done our part. But you have not done your own. You have still to admit the truth.”

“Well, then we are a pair, Lavinia and I,” said Ninian, putting an arm about his daughter. “She thought it best to prevent my marriage. I thought it best to save her and others from her having powers beyond her. We meant well by each other and by those about us. And if we meant well by ourselves too, well, it was hardly being done for us. We could not help the breach of faith. I see now that she could not help it. Only we know how much we wished we could. We should be drawn closer, if we were not already so close.”

“So I have done what I wanted,” said his brother.

“It was an unworthy thought, to put temptation in someone’s way. To set a trap where it would not be suspected. Neither she nor I would have done it. Our trial was thrust upon us; hers by the hand of chance, mine by that of a brother. Which is the sadder thing?”

“So you are in the pulpit, Ninian? You feel it is your place?”

“You have been in it yourself. And it emerges that it is not yours.”

“Because I trusted my brother?”

“Because you did not trust him. And so exposed him to something that assumed trust. I might have read your thought. To fail was simple of me.”

“It was your saving grace. It showed you believed in innocence. That means you are not without it.”

“And you do not believe in it?”

“Well, have I met it? Here in this kind of place? In many parts it would have no meaning.”

“Is everyone to know of this?” said Lavinia.

“When you were in similar trouble, everyone knew,” said her uncle.

There was a pause.

“No one need know of it,” said Ninian, in a gentle tone. “No one should know. A wrong meaning would be read into it. My motives would be misjudged, as they have already been. There is no point in essential falseness.”

“They do say that honesty is best,” said Ransom.

“Ransom, you left us for many years. You came back to find welcome, affection, support. Is this your return?”

“Yes, it is. I make it to the girl. You get your reward as her father.”

“A part of what you have would give her freedom, if that is what you want.”

“So you know what I have,” said Ransom, smiling. “You have not learned it from me. And you see what I want. And I see what you do. And if I am the one to have it, well, I am to have nothing else.”

“She might marry and take the money from the place. Then you would not have saved it.”

“I should have saved her,” said Ransom.

“She is too young and untried for such a position.”

“She will grow older; and to my mind she has been tried.”

“You were to leave everything to me. You came home with that intention.”

“It is true. And in the will you preserved, I did so. In the other I left it to Lavinia, to make my test of you a real one. You see I had a certain trust in you. I shall now make a third, leaving it equally between you.”

“Oh, leave it all to her. It is what you want. And you have every right to do it. I should rather like to expiate an alien impulse by a natural sacrifice. It puts things in a truer light.”

“That is your real word? And your last one?”