MORDAUNT PONDERS
It was raining and Mordaunt stood by an open window in Mrs. Halliday's
drawing-room at Whitelees. A smell of stocks came in, and across the
lawn, rows of dahlias, phlox, and autumn lilies made a belt of glowing
color against a dark yew hedge. The hedge was neatly clipped and the
turf was very smooth. By and by Mordaunt turned and glanced about the
room, which he knew well. Whitelees was modern, and although Mrs.
Halliday sometimes grumbled about her poverty, its furniture and
decoration indicated extravagance. Mordaunt, however, thought there
was too much ornament and doubted if some of the pottery was genuine.
The room was pretty, but he was a connoisseur and was not satisfied
with prettiness. He liked Langrigg better than Whitelees. Langrigg
was austere and dignified.
Mordaunt was not at all austere, although he was not effeminate or
luxurious. He was a good sportsman, something of an artist, and a
traveler. He had talent, and might perhaps have made his mark, if he
had not had just enough money to meet his needs and exaggerated dislike
for competitive struggle. It had been a bitter disappointment that he
had inherited very little of Joseph Dearham's property, although none
of his relations suspected this, for Mordaunt knew how to hide his
feelings. He was stubbornly conservative and held tenaciously the
traditions of his class.
Presently Mrs. Halliday came in. Mordaunt, who knew his aunt well,
thought she harmonized with her room. She was a handsome, gracious
woman, but one felt now and then that her charm was forced and
artificial. After telling Mordaunt to sit down, she remarked:
"I understand you went to Langrigg."
"I did go," said Mordaunt. "My visit was not a success."
"Perhaps it's curious, but Evelyn's judgment was better than ours. She
doubted if you would succeed."
"I believe she said you ought to go, because the thing needed a lighter
touch than mine."
Mrs. Halliday smiled. "Your touch is not often clumsy, Lance. But
what line did Jim take? I suppose we must call him Jim."
"A significant concession, but he certainly shows the Dearham vein! He
used some warmth and indulged a little raw sentiment. Expediency
doesn't count for much with him."
"You mean his Canadian friends are going to remain?"
"Yes," said Mordaunt. "As long as they like! I imagine they will stay
some time."
Mrs. Halliday waited for a moment. She thought Lance understood there
was something else she wanted to know, but he was silent and she
remarked:
"After all, they might be left in the background. Besides, the girl's
mother is there."
"It is hard to keep a Canadian in the background and Jim won't try.
Still he made an interesting statement; he has not thought about
marrying the daughter!"
"That is some relief. Well, something depends on Bernard."
Mordaunt agreed. Much depended on Bernard. The old man was rich and
Mordaunt had much less money than he would like; indeed he had long
reckoned on an improvement in his fortune when Bernard died. His
claim, however, was not as strong as Jim's, and Bernard was eccentric.
But Mrs. Halliday resumed:
"Is Jim able to keep up Langrigg properly?"
"He was not remarkably frank about this. He stated he might not be
able to do all he would like."
"Well, I have no doubt you gave him good advice, and your trying to
persuade him was generous."
Mordaunt thought he had been generous, because if he had persuaded Jim
to rule in a way Bernard approved and the latter made him his heir, all
that Jim got would be taken from the others. To some extent, he had
been sincere, but he could not claim that he had done his best. A
feeling of antagonism had sprung up and perhaps he had let this
influence him.
"It's unfortunate Jim was obstinate," Mrs. Halliday went on. "His
keeping these people is awkward, but after all it will cost him most,
and he is one of us----."
"Jim has Langrigg," said Mordaunt, smiling. "Our duty is to
acknowledge and, if needful, indulge him."
"I don't like you when you're ironical," Mrs. Halliday rejoined, and
looking up saw that Evelyn had come in. She wondered how long the girl
had been there.
"You don't look as if you were satisfied with your visit to Langrigg,
Lance," Evelyn said as she sat down.
"I'm resigned."
"That's different from being satisfied. But you were plucky. The
matter must have needed tactful management; Miss Winter is attractive."
"Jim is not going to marry her, if that is what you mean; he stated he
had not thought about it," Mordaunt said bluntly.
Evelyn laughed. "Then, it's probably true. If he had meant to marry
Miss Winter, he would have said so, even if he thought you disapproved.
Jim is very much of a Dearham."
"Is this an advantage or a drawback?"
"I don't know," said Evelyn. "It marks the difference between him and
us. We're fastidious and complex; the Dearhams are simple and firm."
"A cruder type?"
"Not altogether. Strength and simplicity are dignified. You're an
artist and know the value of bold, austere line."
"My notion is, Jim is not as simple as he looks."
"That's rather cheap," Evelyn remarked. "I meant the simplicity of the
old Greeks."
"Theirs was cultivated; Jim's is not."
"There are things one does better by instinct than study," said Evelyn,
smiling. "But I'm getting bored. Let's talk about something else."
Soon afterwards, Mordaunt drove back to Dryholm, where Bernard had
built his ambitious house. Mordaunt had no occupation and generally
stopped at Dryholm. There was plenty of room and although the old man
was often ironical Mordaunt imagined he liked to have him about. The
rain had stopped, the wet road was smooth, and as the car ran past the
yellow stubble fields he gave himself to thought.
It was plain that Mrs. Halliday meant to make a friend of Jim and her
object was not hard to see since Langrigg gave its owner some
importance. Evelyn was curious about Jim; Mordaunt did not know if he
attracted her, but the possibility of ruling at Langrigg had no doubt
some charm. She would toy with the idea.
Mordaunt was not in love with Evelyn, but they agreed in many ways, and
he had for some time weighed the advantages his marrying her would
bring. She was his cousin, but cousins did marry now and then, and
since the marriage would consolidate family interests, he imagined
their relations would approve. In fact, he had imagined Mrs. Halliday
knew his views and he could count on her support. Now, however, he
suspected she had gone over to Jim.
For all that, Mordaunt's dissatisfaction was not quite selfish. Jim
was something of a savage and meant to manage the estate on business
lines. The fellow was going to farm and make his farming pay. If he
had been a sportsman and made experiments in agriculture when he had
nothing else to do, it would have been different; but this was not
Jim's plan. The strange thing was, Jim's notion of dyking the marsh
annoyed him more than all; the annoyance was perhaps illogical, but he
could not conquer it. Mordaunt was a naturalist and a wildfowler, and
did not think there was in England such a haunt of the Lag and black
geese as Langrigg marsh. Now Jim, with rude utilitarian ideas, was
going to drive the geese away.
The car lurched on the grass by the roadside as it took a corner and
Mordaunt, roused by the jolt, concentrated on his driving. When he
reached Dryholm he crossed the lawn and stopped by a wheeled chair, in
which Bernard Dearham sat with his foot propped up. The old man was
tall and strongly made, but had got thin, and his pinched face was
marked by deep lines. He had worked with consuming energy and
sometimes indulged, for Bernard had nothing of the fastidiousness that
marked his relatives. Now his strength was broken and he was bothered
by gout.
He dismissed the man who had pushed the chair and gave Mordaunt a quick
glance. Bernard's brows were white, but his eyes were keen.
"Take me to the bench out of the wind," he said, and looked down when
Mordaunt began to move the chair. "It will give Creighton a job to
roll out these marks. The fellow grows fat and lazy and I hate the
crunching gravel."
Mordaunt thought the remark was characteristic. The wheel-tracks could
hardly be seen on the fine turf, but Bernard disliked untidiness. When
they reached the sheltered bench and Mordaunt sat down Bernard looked
up and asked: "Where have you been?"
"I was at Whitelees."
"I expect you had something to talk about just now. You and Janet
Halliday understand each other well. I don't know if you are
confidants or accomplices."
"Perhaps we have made a few innocent plots," Mordaunt admitted with a
smile. "However, I imagine it has generally been for the advantage of
the family."
Bernard nodded. "Well, I suppose your objects are sometimes good, as
far as you see, though I doubt if you always see far enough. But I
wondered whether you had gone to Langrigg. It's possible Janet has
made some plot for Jim's advantage."
"I hardly imagine him a promising subject for experiments."
"You mean he's not compliant? What else?"
"I haven't known him very long and would sooner reserve my judgment."
Bernard gave him an ironical smile. "You don't want to prejudice me
against him? Well, you're always tactful and it's comforting to feel
you're sometimes just. However, I want to form an opinion. Write and
ask him to come."
"He has friends at Langrigg. Perhaps you know?"
"I do know. Ask his friends. You may state that I'm an old man and am
unable to go to him. I can leave you to strike the right note; you
have some talent for that kind of thing."
Mordaunt said he would write. He was used to Bernard's bitter humor
and on the whole thought it advisable that he should see Jim's friends.
It was possible he would get a jar, but one could not tell. The old
man was capricious and hard to understand.
"Didn't Evelyn join the party that went to welcome Jim?" Bernard
resumed. "Rather a happy thought of Janet's! Do you know how he
impressed Evelyn?"
"I do not. She did not give me her confidence," said Mordaunt, as
shortly as he durst.
Bernard's eyes twinkled. "Was it necessary? With your talent, one
ought not to find it difficult to read a girl's mind."
"I haven't always found it easy," Mordaunt rejoined.
"Well, I suppose Evelyn is really a woman now; when one gets old one
forgets that the young grow up," Bernard remarked. "Besides, she has
an admirable model in Janet. But take me in; I soon get cramped in
this confounded chair."
Mordaunt set off and on his way to the house carefully skirted a spot
where a tree had been uprooted and the turf relaid. To his surprise
Bernard made an impatient sign.
"Go straight across!"
They crossed the freshly-sodded belt and when Mordaunt stopped on the
terrace Bernard said: "It will not be your job to roll out our tracks."
"I thought it would bother you if I went across," Mordaunt replied.
Bernard gave him a sour smile. "I well know my relations' views about
my character and in the main they're just; but they sometimes go wrong
when they imagine their rules are mine. Probably you have not felt it
would be a relief to plow through things, without bothering about the
marks you left."
"No," said Mordaunt, "I don't think I have felt this."
"You're a logical fellow," Bernard rejoined. "Well, for the most
part, I have been a slave to my notions of efficiency and order since I
was a boy; but at times other feelings rebelled. Then I, so to speak,
ran loose and broke things, like the rest of mankind. Moreover, I'm
not repentant when I look back on the short-lived outbreaks. They gave
me some satisfaction; after all, the Dearham blood is what Canadian Jim
would probably call red. I don't know what color yours is, unless you
like to think it blue."
Mordaunt said nothing. Bernard was often bitter, particularly when he
had gout. When a servant came to help the old man in, Mordaunt went to
the library where he wrote a note to Jim. He paused once or twice
during its composition. Now he had time to ponder, he began to doubt
if it was advisable to let Jim visit Dryholm and imagined he could so
turn a polished phrase that it would keep him away. Mordaunt was
clever at delicate implication and Jim's blood was red. Perhaps,
however, it was not prudent to use his talent, since Bernard might want
to see the note.