Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

"All right now," I said.

"What was it ?" he asked.

"Did you think you'd broken a tooth ?"

I laughed and told him what I had been listening to.

"You just wait," he said.

"She'll have him turning out master pieces eight hours a day- unless, of course, he goes for her with a cake-knife."

I stared at him in amazement. He went on:

"Oh, she had our attorney send us all the details of the case. Made me laugh a lot. But I guess she was a bit disappointed that it wasn't a

real attempt at murder."

"Can you understand how a ridiculous thing like that could put him off his work ?" I asked.

"Why, I don't even understand your Father's work when he was on it,"

said Neil.

"I'm just not literary."

After that, we talked of other things--I felt it would be polite to ask questions about America. He told me about his father's ranch in

California, where he had lived until he joined Mrs. Cotton and Simon.

(it is strange to realize how little he has had to do with them.) I

said it seemed very sad that the father had died before he could

inherit Scoatney Hall.

"He wouldn't have lived in it, anyway," said Neil.

"He'd never have settled down anywhere but in America--any more than I shall."

I almost began to say "But your brother's going to live here, isn't he?" but I stopped myself. Neil had sounded so cross that I felt it might be a sore subject. I asked him if he liked Rose's dress-mostly

to change the conversation.

He said: "Not very much, if you want the honest truth it too fussy for me. But she looks very pretty in it.

Knows it, too, doesn't she ?"

There was a twinkle in his eye which took off the rudeness. And I must admit that Rose was knowing it all over the place.

The most wonderful frozen pudding came round then and while Neil

helped himself, I let my left ear listen to Father and Mrs. Cotton

again. They seemed to be getting on splendidly, though it did sound a bit like a shouting match. I saw Topaz look across anxiously, then

look relieved: Father was chuckling.

"Oh, talk to the Vicar- give me a rest," he said.

"But I shall return to the attack," said Mrs.

Cotton. Her eyes were sparkling and she looked about twice as healthy as anyone normally does.

"Well, how are you enjoying your first grown-up dinner party ?"

Father asked me- it was the first word he had spoken to me throughout the meal but I could hardly blame him for that. He was rather flushed and somehow larger than usual--there was a touch of the magnificence I still remember about him from pre-cake-knife days.

He had a slight return of it when he married Topaz, but it didn't last.

The awful thought came to me that he might be going to fall in love

with Mrs. Cotton. She was talking to him again within a couple of

minutes. Soon after that the females left the table.

As we went upstairs, Topaz slipped her arm through mine.

"Could you hear?" she whispered.

"Is he really enjoying himself?

Or was he just putting it on?"

I told her I thought it was genuine.

"It's wonderful to see him like that"--but her voice sounded wistful.

It is one of her theories that a woman must never be jealous, never try to hold a man against his will; but I could tell that she hadn't

enjoyed seeing someone else bring Father to life.

Mrs. Cotton's bedroom was lovely- there were lots of flowers, and new books lying around and a chaise-longue piled with fascinating little

cushions; and a wood fire--it must be heaven to have fire in one's

bedroom. The bathroom was unbelievable--the walls were looking-glass!

And there was a glass table with at least half a-dozen bottles of scent and toilet water on it. (americans say "perfume" instead of

"scent"--much more correct, really; I don't know why "perfume" should be considered affected in England.) "Simon says this bathroom's an outrage on the house," said Mrs.

Cotton, "but I've no use for antiquity in bathrooms."

"Isn't it lovely ?" I said to Rose.

"Glorious," she said, in an almost tragic voice. I could see she was liking it so much that it really hurt her.

When we had tidied up we went to the Long Gallery- it stretches the

full length of the house and as it is narrow it seems even longer than it is. It has three fireplaces and there were fires in all of them,

but it wasn't at all too hot. Rose and I strolled along looking at the pictures and statues and interesting things in glass cases, while

Mrs.

Cotton talked to Topaz. Mrs.

Fox-Cotton had disappeared after dinner;

I suppose she went off to her own bedroom.

We got to the fireplace at the far end of the gallery and stood looking back at the others; we could hear their voices but not a word of what they were saying, so we felt it was safe to talk.

"What sort of a time did you have at dinner?" I asked.

She said it had been boring--she didn't like Mr.

Fox-Cotton and, anyway, he had only been interested in Topaz:

"So I concentrated on the wonderful food. What did you and Neil talk about?"

"Amongst other things, he said you looked very pretty," I told "What else?"

"About America, mostly." I remembered as much as I could for her, particularly about the ranch in California; I had liked the sound of

it.

"What, cows and things ?" she said, disgustedly.

"Is he going back there ?"

"Oh, it was sold when the Father died. But he did say he'd like to have a ranch himself if ever he could afford it."

"But aren't they very rich ?"

"Oh, shut up," I whispered, and took a quick look at Mrs. Cotton; but we were really quite safe.

"I don't suppose Neil's rich and it probably takes all Simon's money to keep this place up. Come on, we'd better go back."

As we reached the fireplace in the middle of the gallery, Mrs. Fox

Cotton came in. It was the first time I'd had a really good look at

her.

She is small, not much bigger than I am, with straight black hair done in an enormous knob low on her neck, and a very dark skin.

Both skin and hair look greasy to me.

Topaz says the modelling of the face is beautiful and I do see that,

but I don't think the modelling would be damaged by a real good wash.

She was wearing a clinging dark green dress, so shiny that it looked

almost slimy- it made me think of sea-weed. Her Christian name,

believe it or not, is Leda.

Rose and I walked to meet her but she sat down on a sofa, put her feet up and opened an old calf-bound book she had brought in with her.

"Do you mind ?" she said.

"I want to finish this before we go back to London tomorrow."

"What is it ?" I asked, out of politeness.

"Oh, it's no book for little girls," she said.

She has the silliest voice, a little tinny bleat; she barely bothers to open her mouth and the words just slide through her teeth. In view of what happened later, I put it on record that it was then I first

decided that I didn't like her.

The men came in then- I noticed she was quick enough to stop reading

for them. Father and Simon seemed to be finishing a literary argument; I hoped they'd had a really good discussion downstairs. It was

interesting to notice where the men went: Father and the Vicar talked to Mrs. Cotton, Aubrey Fox-Cotton made a dive for Topaz, Simon and

Neil came towards Rose and me- but Mrs. Fox-Cotton got off her sofa

and intercepted Simon.

"Did you know there's a picture here with a look of you?" she told him, and put her arm through his and marched him along the gallery.

"Oh, I noticed that," I said. Rose and Neil and I walked after them, which I bet didn't please Mrs. FC.

at all.

It was one of the earliest pictures -Elizabethan, I think; there was a small white ruff at the top of the man's high collar. It was just a