Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

You won't be envious as you are not a girl And it is nice to be able to tell someone."

"And I bet I know why she made that list," said Thomas.

"It was to convince herself that marrying for money is worth it.

Oh, I wouldn't worry about it too much; women are always marrying for money, you know. Anyway, it's a godsend for us, all right, even if

it's a bit of a devil send for Rose."

"And what about Simon ?" I demanded.

"Simon? Oh, he's past help. Do you remember our last visit to

Scoatney -before they all went up to London?

He mentioned Rose's name forty-two times while we were walking round

the stables--I counted. The horses must have been sick of the sound of her."

I told him he hadn't any real evidence about Rose's feelings; but a

wild hope was rising in my heart--for surely it is strange that there is nothing about Simon in her letter, surely one wants to write about the person one is in love with his Why, I even write Simon's name on

scraps of paper! (and then get fits of nerves that I haven't really

torn them up.) After Thomas had gone off to do his homework, I got out the only letter Rose has written to me. At first it sent my hopes down to zero--for what could be more definite than: "It's so wonderful that I can be in love with Simon as well as everything else." But suppose she really is "kidding herself," as Thomas suggested his There is so little about Simon. And part of the letter seems so sad--she writes of loneliness, of having to sit in the bathroom until she cheers up.

Heavens, if I had Simon I could never be lonely!

I have been lying in bed trying to imagine the kind of letter I would have written had I been Rose. I don't think I would have said much

about my deepest feelings--I can quite understand Rose keeping those to herself. But I know I would have said which dresses Simon liked, what he thought about theatres-I know he would have been the most important thing in the letter.

Am I making it all up--believing what I want to believe? And even if

she doesn't love him, I know he loves her. But perhaps if she gave him up ...... Oh, it is so hot in this room! I dar en open the window wide in case Heloise takes a flying leap out of it--one of her suitors, the sheep-dog from Four Stones, is prowling round the castle. Heloise,

darling, he would be a most unsuitable match. I wonder if he has gone

...... No, he hasn't. There are two dogs now, just the other side of

the moat; I can see four eyes glowing in the darkness.

I feel terribly sorry for love-lorn dogs.

I can't say Heloise is minding much, though--she is looking rather smug

...... I have just decided what to do. Somehow I have got to find out the truth. If Rose really loves him I will never try to take him from her, even in my thoughts. I will go away--perhaps to college, as she

suggested. But I must know the truth. I must see her.

I will go to London with Stephen on Saturday.

XIV

I AM BACK. It wasn't any good.

Nothing will ever be the same again between Rose and me.

All the time that Stephen and I were cycling to Scoatney station very early yesterday, I kept remembering the start of my last trip to

London, when she was with me. I found myself talking to her as she was then; even asking her advice about what I should say to the new Rose.

The Rose with the thousand-pound trousseau seemed an utterly different person from the Rose in the skimpy white suit who set out with me that bright April morning. How fresh the countryside was then! It was

green yesterday, after the rain, but there was no hopeful, beginning

feeling. The sun was hot, and though I was glad the bad weather was

over, I found it rather glaring. High summer can be pitiless to the

low spirited.

Being alone with Stephen was far less difficult than I had expected.

We talked very little and only about the most ordinary things. I felt guilty towards him and, most unfairly, slightly annoyed with him

because I did. I resented being worried about him on top of everything else.

While we were waiting at the station, Heloise arrived, exhausted

--having eluded Thomas and raced after our bicycles. She is out of

purdah now, and we didn't like to leave her on the platform, because

once when we did that she stowed away on the next train and ended up at King's Crypt police station. So Stephen got her a dog-ticket and the

stationmaster gave her a long drink and found some string to make a

leash. She behaved beautifully on the journey, except that after we

changed into the London train she took a little boy's cake away from

him. I quickly thanked him for giving it to her and he took my word

for it that he had meant to.

Stephen insisted on escorting me all the way to Park Lane. We arranged to telephone each other about what train we would go home by, and then he dashed off to St. John's Wood.

I walked Heloise round the block of flats, then went in. It was a most palatial place with bouncy carpets and glittering porters and a lift

you work yourself. There is a queer, irrevocable feeling when you have pressed the button and start to go up.

Heloise got claustrophobia and tried to climb the padded leather walls.

It didn't do them any good.

I have never seen any place look so determinedly quiet as the passage leading to the flat; it was hard to believe anyone lived behind the

shining front doors. When Mrs.

Cotton's was opened to me it came as quite a shock.

I asked for Rose and told the maid who I was.

"They're all out," she said.

I suddenly realized I ought to have let them know I was coming.

"When will they be back, please ?" I asked.

"Madam said six-thirty--in time to dress for dinner. Won't you come in, miss ?"

She offered to get water for Heloise, who was panting histrionically, and asked if I would like anything. I said perhaps some milk and might I tidy up his She showed me into Rose's bedroom. It was superb- the

carpet was actually white; it seemed awful to walk on it. Everything

was white or cream, except a great bunch of red roses in a marble vase on the bedside table. By it was a card sticking out of an envelope

with "Good morning, darling," on it, in Simon's writing. While I was staring at the roses the maid came back with my milk, and water for

Heloise; then left us alone.

Rose's bathroom looked as if it had never been used--even her

toothbrush was hidden away. She had said in her letter that there were clean towels every day, but I hadn't visualized there being so many-three sizes, and the most fetching monogrammed face cloths When I had washed, I went back to the bedroom--and found Heloise blissfully

relaxed on the white quilted bedspread; she did look nice. I took off my shoes and lay down beside her, trying to think out what I had better do. The scent of the roses was most beautiful.

I saw that it would be hopeless to talk to Rose if she didn't get back until so late; I needed to go slow and be tactful, and there would be no time for that either before or after dinner, even if waited until

the nine-thirty train. I wondered if I could find her surely she would come back if she knew I was at the flat his I rang for the maid, but

when she came she had no idea where they had all gone.

"Wouldn't anyone know?" I said desperately.

"Well, we could try Mr. Neil--though we haven't seen much of him lately." She rang up his hotel; but Neil was out. Then I wondered if the Fox-Cottons could help, and we got their number.

Leda Fox-Cotton didn't sound at all pleased to talk to me.

"You silly child, why didn't you warn them ?" she said.

"No, of course I don't know where they are. Wait a minute, I'll ask Aubrey.