Mary Westmacott - Giant's Bread

Nell was silent. She couldn’t for the moment collect her thoughts.

‘Not that I mean Vernon was like that,’ went on Jane. ‘He may really have wished you not to grieve. You’d know best about that, because you knew him better than anyone else.’

‘Yes,’ said Nell eagerly. ‘That’s just it. I know he would want me to be happy. And he wanted me to have Abbots Puissants. I know he’d love to think of my being here.’

‘He wanted to live here with you. That’s not quite the same thing.’

‘No, but it isn’t as though I were living here with George like – like it would have been with him. Oh, Jane, I want to make you understand. George is a dear, but he isn’t – he can never be – what – what Vernon was to me.’

There was a long pause and then Jane said: ‘You’re lucky, Nell.’

‘If you think I really love all this luxury! Why, for Vernon I’d give it up in a minute!’

‘I wonder.’

‘Jane! You –’

‘You think you would – but – I wonder.’

‘I did before.’

‘No – you only gave up the prospect of it. That’s different. It hadn’t eaten into you like it has now.’

‘Jane!’

Nell’s eyes filled with tears. She turned away.

‘My dear – I’m being a beast. There’s no harm in what you’ve done. I dare say you’re right – about Vernon wishing it. You need kindness and protection – but all the same soft living does eat into one. You’ll know what I mean some day. By the way, I didn’t mean what you thought when I said just now that you were lucky. By lucky, I meant that you’d had the best of both worlds. If you’d married your George when you originally intended, you’d have gone through life with a secret regret, a longing for Vernon, a feeling that you’d been cheated out of life through your own cowardice. And if Vernon had lived you might have grown away from each other, quarrelled, come to hate each other. But as it is, you’ve had Vernon, made your sacrifice – you’ve got him where nothing can ever touch him. Love will be a thing of beauty to you for ever. And you’ve got all the other things as well. This!’

She swept her arm round in a sudden embracing gesture.

Nell had hardly paid any attention to the end part of the speech. Her eyes had grown soft and melting.

‘I know. Everything turns out for the best. They tell you so when you’re a child and later you find it out for yourself. God does know best.’

‘What do you know about God, Nell Chetwynd?’

There was savagery in the question that brought Nell’s eyes to Jane in astonishment. She looked menacing – fiercely accusing. The gentleness of a minute ago was gone.

‘The will of God! Would you be able to say that if God’s will didn’t happen to coincide with Nell Chetwynd’s comfort, I wonder? You don’t know anything about God or you couldn’t have spoken like that, gently patting God on the back for making life comfortable and easy for you. Do you know a text that used to frighten me in the Bible? This night shall thy soul be required of thee . When God requires your soul of you, be sure you’ve got a soul to give Him!’

She paused and then said quietly:

‘I’ll go now. I shouldn’t have come. But I wanted to see Vernon’s home. I apologize for what I’ve said. But you’re so damned smug, Nell. You don’t know it, but you are. Smug – that’s the word. Life to you means yourself and yourself only. What about Vernon? Was it best for him? Do you think he wanted to die right at the beginning of everything he cared for?’

Nell flung her head back defiantly.

‘I made him happy.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of his happiness. I was thinking of his music. You and Abbots Puissants – what do you matter? Vernon had genius – that’s the wrong way of putting it – he belonged to his genius. And genius is the hardest master there is – everything has got to be sacrificed to it – your trumpery happiness even would have had to go if it stood in the way. Genius has got to be served. Music wanted Vernon – and he’s dead. That’s the crying shame, the thing that matters, the thing you never even consider. I know why – because you were afraid of it, Nell. It doesn’t make for peace and happiness and security. But I tell you, it’s got to be served …’

Suddenly her face relaxed, the old mocking light that Nell hated came back to her eyes. She said:

‘Don’t worry, Nell. You’re much the strongest of us all. Protective colouring! Sebastian told me so long ago, and he was right. You’ll endure when we’ve all perished. Goodbye – I’m sorry I’ve been a devil, but I’m made that way.’

Nell stood staring after her retreating figure. She clenched her hands and said under her breath:

‘I hate you. I’ve always hated you …’

The day had begun so peacefully – and now it was spoilt. Tears came into Nell’s eyes. Why couldn’t people let her alone? Jane and her horrid sneering. Jane was a beast – an uncanny beast. She knew where things hurt you most.

Why, even Joe had said that she, Nell, was quite right to marry George! Joe had understood perfectly. Nell felt aggrieved and hurt. Why should Jane be so horrid? And saying things like that about the dead – irreligious things – when everyone knew that the dead liked one to be brave and cheerful.

The impertinence of Jane to hurl a text at her head. A woman like Jane who had lived with people and done all kinds of immoral things. Nell felt a glow of superior virtue. In spite of everything that was said nowadays, there were two different kinds of women. She belonged to one kind and Jane to the other. Jane was attractive – that kind of woman always was attractive – that was why in the past she had felt afraid of Jane. Jane had some queer power over men – she was bad through and through.

Thinking these thoughts, Nell paced restlessly up and down. She felt disinclined to go back to the house. In any case, there was nothing particular to do this afternoon. There were some letters that must be written some time but she really couldn’t settle to them at present.

She had forgotten about her husband’s American friend, and was quite surprised when George joined her with Mr Bleibner in tow. The American was a tall thin man, very precise. He paid her grave compliments on the house. They were now, he explained, going to view the ruins of the Abbey. George suggested she should come with them.

‘You go on,’ said Nell. ‘I’ll follow you presently. I must get a hat. The sun is so hot.’

‘Shall I get it for you, dear?’

‘No, thanks. You and Mr Bleibner go on. You’ll be ages pottering about there, I know.’

‘Why, I should say that is very certain to be the case, Mrs Chetwynd. I understand your husband has some idea of restoring the Abbey. That is very interesting.’

‘It’s one of our many projects, Mr Bleibner.’

‘You are fortunate to own this place. By the way, I hope you’ve no objection, I told my chauffeur (with your husband’s assent, naturally) that he might stroll round the grounds. He is a most intelligent young man of quite a superior class.’

‘That’s quite all right. And if he’d like to see the house the butler can take him over it later.’

‘Now I call that very kind of you, Mrs Chetwynd. What I feel is that we want beauty appreciated by all classes. The idea that’s going to weld together the League of Nations –’

Nell felt suddenly that she couldn’t bear to hear Mr Bleibner’s views on the League of Nations. They were sure to be ponderous and lengthy. She excused herself on the plea of the hot sun.

Some Americans could be very boring. What a mercy George was not like that. Dear George – really he was very nearly perfect. She experienced again that warm happy feeling that had surged over her earlier in the day.