Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

probably think the silliness is fetching."

"Is Neil attracted, too ?"

"I doubt it," said Topaz.

"I've an idea that Neil sees through her -- I saw him give her a very shrewd look.

Oh, how are we going to dress her, Cassandra his There's a chance for her with Simon, really there isI know the signs."

I had a sudden picture of Simon's face, pale above the beard.

"But would you really like her to marry him, Topaz?" I asked.

"I'd like her to get the chance," said Topaz, firmly.

Miss Marcy arrived then with a book for Father. She told us the Vicar has been invited for the same night as we have she heard from his

housekeeper.

"Most people have only been asked to lunches or teas," she said.

"Dinner's ever so much more splendid."

We told her about the problem of Rose's dress.

"It should be pink," she said, "a crinoline effect-there's the very thing here in this week's Home Chat."

She dived into her satchel for it.

"Oh, dear, that would be perfect for her," sighed Topaz.

Miss Marcy blushed and blinked her eyes, then said:

"Could you make it, Mrs. Mortmain? If--if dear Rose allowed me to give her the material?"

"I'll allow you," said Topaz.

"I feel justified."

Miss Marcy shot her a quick glance and Topaz gave her the very faintest nod. I nearly laughed--they were so different, Miss Marcy like a rosy little bird and Topaz tall and pale, like a slightly dead goddess, but just that second they so much resembled each other in their absolute

lust to marry Rose off.

"Perhaps we could offer Miss Marcy something of Aunt Millicent's as a small return," I suggested. They went off to the dining-room where the clothes are spread out, while I stayed to get Stephen his tea--Topaz

had decided that those of us who'd had afternoon tea would have supper with cocoa, later.

Stephen was worried to hear I shall be wearing such an old dress at

Scoatney.

"Couldn't you have a new sash?" he asked.

"I've got some money saved."

I thanked him but said my blue Speech Day sash was as good as new.

"Then a ribbon for your hair, Miss Cassandra ?"

"Goodness, I haven't worn a hair-ribbon since I was a child," I told him.

"You used to have little bows on the ends of your plaits before you cut your hair," he said.

"They were pretty."

Then he asked how I liked the two Cottons, now I knew them better.

"Oh, I don't know Simon at all--he talked to Rose most of the time. But Neil's very nice."

"Would you call him handsome ?"

I said I hardly thought so--"Not really handsome--not the way you are, Stephen."

I spoke without thinking--we all of us take his good looks for granted; but he blushed so much that I wished I hadn't said it.

"You see, you have classical features," I explained, in a matter-of fact voice.

"It seems a waste when I'm not a gentleman."

He grinned--a little sarcastic sort of grin.

"Don't talk like that," I said quickly.

"Gentlemen are men who behave like gentlemen. And you certainly do."

He shook his head.

"You can only be a gentleman if you're born one, Miss Cassandra."

"Stephen, that's old-fashioned nonsense," I said.

"Really, it is.

And, by the way, will you please stop calling me "Miss" Cassandra."

He looked astonished. Then he said: "Yes, I see. It should be "Miss Mortmain" now you're grown up enough for dinner parties."

"It certainly shouldn't," I said.

"I mean you must call me Cassandra, without the "Miss." You're one of the family--it's absurd you should ever have called me "Miss." Who told you to ?"

"My Mother--she set a lot of store by it," he said.

"I remember the first day we came here. You and Miss Rose were

throwing a ball in the garden and I ran to the kitchen door thinking

I'd play, too.

Mother called me back and told me how you were young ladies, and I was never to play with you unless I was invited. And to call you "Miss,"

and never to presume. She had a hard job explaining what "presume"

meant."

"Oh, Stephen, how awful! And you'd be--how old ?"

"Seven, I think. You'd be six and Miss Rose nine. Thomas was only four, but she told me to call him "Master Thomas." Only he asked me not to, years ago."

"And I ought to have asked you years ago." I'd never given it a thought. His Mother had been in service for years before she married.

When she was left a widow she had to go back to it and board Stephen

out. I know she was very grateful when Mother let her bring him here, so perhaps that made her extra humble.

"Well, anyway, I've asked you now," I went on, "so will you please remember ?"

"Would I call Miss Rose just "Rose"?" he asked.

I wasn't sure how Rose would feel about it so I said: "Oh, why worry about Rose his This is between you and me."

"I couldn't call her "Miss" and not you," he said firmly.

"It'd be setting her above you."

I said I would talk to Rose about it, then asked him to pass his cup

for more tea- I was getting a bit embarrassed by the subject.

He stirred his second cup for a long time, then said:

"Did you mean that about gentlemen being men who behave like gentlemen

?"

"Of course I did, Stephen. I swear I did --really."

I was so anxious to make him believe me that I leaned towards him,

across the table. He looked at me, right into my eyes. That queer,

veiled expression in his--that I fear I used to call his daft look- was suddenly not there; there seemed to be a light in them and yet I have never seen them look so dark. And they were so direct that it was more like being touched than being looked at. It only lasted a second, but for that second he was quite a different person --much more

interesting, even a little bit exciting.

Then Thomas came in and I jumped up from the table.

"Why are you so red in the face, my girl?" he said maddeningly --I do understand why Rose sometimes wants to hit him. Fortunately he didn't wait for an answer, but went on to say there was a bit in the King's

Crypt paper about the bear being washed up twenty miles away. I

laughed and put an egg on to boil for him.

Stephen went out into the garden.

All the time I was giving Thomas his tea I was worrying--because I

suddenly knew I couldn't go on pretending that Stephen is just vaguely devoted to me and it doesn't in the least matter. I hadn't given it a thought for weeks, and I certainly hadn't been brisk with him, as

Father suggested. I told myself I would start at once; and then I felt I couldn't-not after I had just asked him to stop calling me "Miss."

Incidentally, I never felt less brisk in my life, because being looked at like that makes a person feel dizzy.

I went into the garden to think things out. It was that time of

evening when pale flowers look paler- the daffodils seemed almost

white; they were very still, everything was still, hushed. Father's

lamp was lit in the gatehouse, Topaz and Miss Marcy had a candle in the dining-room, Rose was still playing the piano in the drawing-room,

without a light. I'd stopped feeling dizzy; I had a strange, excited

feeling. I went through the gatehouse passage out into the lane and

walked past the barn. Stephen came out.

He didn't smile as he usually does when he sees me; he looked at me

with a kind of questioning expression. Then he said: "Let's go for a little walk."

I said: "All right." And then: "No, I don't think I will, Stephen. I want to see Miss Marcy again before she goes."

I didn't want to see Miss Marcy in the least.

I wanted to go for the walk. But I suddenly knew I mustn't.

Stephen just nodded. Then we went back to the castle together without saying a word to each other.