Lucia Victrix

  During the morning before Lucia’s luncheon-party a telegram had come for Georgie from Colonel Cresswell making a firm and very satisfactory offer for his house at Riseholme, unfurnished. That had made him really busy: first he had to see Foljambe and tell her (under seal of secrecy, for he had his little plot of teasing Lucia in mind) that he was proposing to settle in Tilling. Foljambe was very pleased to hear it, and in a burst of most unusual feeling, had said that it would have gone to her heart to leave his service, after so many harmonious years, when he went back to Riseholme, and that she was very glad to adopt the plan, which she had agreed to, when it was supposed that they would all go back to Riseholme together. She would do her work all day in Georgie’s house, and retire in the evening to the connubialities of the garage at Grebe. When this affecting interview was over, she went back to her jobs, and again Georgie heard her singing as she cleaned the silver. ‘So that’s beautiful,’ he said to himself, ‘and the cloud has passed for ever. Now I must instantly see about getting a house here.’

  He hurried out. There was still an hour before he was due at the lobster lunch. Though he had left the seaside twenty-four hours ago, he put on his yachtsman’s cap and, walking on air, set off for the house-agents’. Of all the houses in the place which he had seen, he was sure that none would suit him as well as this dear little Mallards Cottage which he now occupied; he liked it, Foljambe liked it, they all liked it, but he had no idea whether he could get a lease from kippered Isabel. As he crossed the High Street, a wild hoot from a motor-horn just behind him gave him a dreadful fright, but he jumped nimbly for the pavement, reached it unhurt, and though his cap fell off and landed in a puddle, he was only thankful to have escaped being run down by Isabel Poppit on her motor-cycle. Her hair was like a twisted mop, her skin incredibly tanned, and mounted on her cycle she looked like a sort of modernized Valkyrie in rather bad repair … Meeting her just at this moment, when he was on his way to inquire about Mallards Cottage, seemed a good omen to Georgie, and he picked up his cap and ran back across the street, for in her natural anxiety to avoid killing him she had swerved into a baker’s cart, and had got messed up in the wheels.

  ‘I do apologize, Miss Poppit,’ he said. ‘Entirely my fault for not looking both ways before I crossed.’

  ‘No harm done,’ said she. ‘Oh, your beautiful cap. I am sorry. But after all the wonderful emptiness and silence among the sand-dunes, a place like a town seems to me a positive nightmare.’

  ‘Well, the emptiness and silence does seem to suit you,’ said Georgie, gazing in astonishment at her mahogany face. ‘I never saw anybody looking so well.’

  Isabel, with a tug of her powerful arms, disentangled her cycle.

  ‘It’s the simple life,’ said she, shaking her hair out of her eyes. ‘Never again will I live in a town. I have taken the bungalow I am in now for six months more, and I only came in to Tilling to tell the house-agent to get another tenant for Mallards Cottage, as I understand that you’re going back to Riseholme at the end of this month.’

  Georgie had never felt more firmly convinced that a wise and beneficent Providence looked after him with the most amiable care.

  ‘And I was also on my way to the house-agents’,’ he said, ‘to see if I could get a lease of it.’

  ‘Gracious! What a good thing I didn’t run over you just now,’ said Isabel, with all the simplicity derived from the emptiness and silence of sand-dunes. ‘Come on to the agents’.’

  Within half an hour the whole business was as good as settled. Isabel held a lease from her mother of Mallards Cottage, which had five years yet to run, and she agreed to transfer this to Georgie, and store her furniture. He had just time to change into his new mustard-coloured suit with its orange tie and its topaz tie-pin, and arrived at the luncheon-party in the very highest spirits. Besides, there was his talk with Lucia when other guests had gone, to look forward to. How he would tease her about settling in London!

  Though Tilling regarded the joyful prospect of Lucia’s never going away again with certain reservations, and, in the case of Elizabeth, with nothing but reservations, her guests vied with each other in the fervency of their self-congratulations, and Elizabeth outdid them all, as she took into her mouth small fragments of lobster, in the manner of a wine-taster, appraising subtle flavours. There was cheese, there were shrimps, there was cream: there were so many things that she felt like Adam giving names to the innumerable procession of different animals. She had helped herself so largely that when the dish came to Georgie there was nothing left but a little pink juice, but he hardly minded at all, so happy had the events of the morning made him. Then when Elizabeth felt that she would choke if she said anything more in praise of Lucia, Mr Wyse took it up, and Georgie broke in and said it was cruel of them all to talk about the delicious busy winter they would have, when they all knew that he would not be here any longer but back at Riseholme. In fact, he rather overdid his lamentations, and Lucia, whose acute mind detected the grossest insincerity in Elizabeth’s raptures, began to wonder whether Georgie for some unknown reason was quite as woeful as he professed to be. Never had he looked more radiant, not a shadow of disappointment had come over his face when he inspected the casserole that had once contained his favourite dish, and found nothing left for him. There was something up what on earth could it be? Had Foljambe jilted Cadman? – and just as Elizabeth was detecting flavours in the mysterious dish, so Lucia was trying to arrive at an analysis of the gay glad tones in which Georgie expressed his misery.

  ‘It’s too tarsome of you all to go on about the lovely things you’re going to do,’ he said. ‘Callisthenic classes and Homer and bridge, and poor me far away, I shall tell myself every morning that I hate Tilling; I shall say like Coué, “Day by day in every way, I dislike it more and more,” until I’ve convinced myself that I shall be glad to go.’

  Mr Wyse made him a beautiful bow.

  ‘We too shall miss you very sadly, Mr Pillson,’ he said, ‘and for my part I shall be tempted to hate Riseholme for taking from us one who has so endeared himself to us.’

  ‘I ask to be allowed to associate myself with those sentiments,’ said Major Benjy, whose contempt for Georgie and his sketches and his needlework had been intensified by the sight of his yachting cap, which he had pronounced to be only fit for a popinjay. It had been best to keep on good terms with him while Lucia was at Mallards, for he might poison her mind about himself, and now that he was going, there was no harm in these handsome remarks. Then the Padre said something Scotch and sympathetic and regretful, and Georgie found himself, slightly to his embarrassment, making bows and saying ‘thank you’ right and left in acknowledgment of these universal expressions of regret that he was so soon about to leave them. It was rather awkward, for within a few hours they would all know that he had taken Mallards Cottage unfurnished for five years, which did not look like an immediate departure. But this little deception was necessary if he was to bring off his joke against Lucia, and make her think that he meant to settle in London. And after all, since everybody seemed so sorry that (as they imagined) he was soon to leave Tilling, they ought to be very much pleased to find that he was doing nothing of the kind.

  The guests dispersed soon after lunch and Georgie, full of mischief and naughtiness, lingered with his hostess in the garden-room. All her gimlet glances during lunch had failed to fathom his high good humour: here was he on the eve of parting with his Foljambe and herself, and yet his face beamed with content. Lucia was in very good spirits also, for she had seen Elizabeth’s brow grow more and more furrowed as she strove to find a formula for the lobster.

  ‘What a lovely luncheon-party, although I got no lobster at all,’ said Georgie, as he settled himself for his teasing. ‘I did enjoy it. And Elizabeth’s rapture at your stopping here! She must have an awful blister on her tongue.’

  Lucia sighed.

  ‘Sapphira must look to her laurels, poor thing,’ she observed pensively. ‘And how sorry they all wer
e that you are going away.’

  ‘Wasn’t it nice of them?’ said Georgie. ‘But never mind that now: I’ve got something wonderful to tell you. I’ve never felt happier in my life, for the thing I’ve wanted for so many years can be managed at last. You will be pleased for my sake.’

  Lucia laid a sympathetic hand on his. She felt that she had shown too little sympathy with one who was to lose his parlourmaid and his oldest friend so soon. But the gaiety with which he bore his double stroke was puzzling …

  ‘Dear Georgie,’ she said, ‘anything that makes you happy makes me happy. I am rejoiced that something of the sort has occurred. Really rejoiced. Tell me what it is instantly.’

  Georgie drew a long breath. He wanted to give it out all in a burst of triumph like a fanfare.

  ‘Too lovely,’ he said. ‘Colonel Cresswell has bought my house at Riseholme – such a good price – and now at last I shall be able to settle in London. I was just as tired of Riseholme as you, and now I shall never see it again or Tilling either. Isn’t it a dream? Riseholme, stuffy little Mallards Cottage, all things of the past! I shall have a nice little home in London, and you must promise to come up and stay with me sometimes. How I looked forward to telling you! Orchestral concerts at Queen’s Hall, instead of our fumbling little arrangements of Mozartino for four hands. Pictures, a club if I can afford it, and how nice to think of you so happy down at Tilling! As for all the fuss I made yesterday about losing Foljambe, I can’t think why it seemed to me so terrible.’

  Lucia gave him one more gimlet glance, and found she did not believe a single word he was saying except as regards the sale of his house at Riseholme. All the rest must be lies, for the Foljambe-wound could not possibly have healed so soon. But she instantly made up her mind to pretend to believe him, and clapped her hands for pleasure.

  ‘Dear Georgie! What splendid news!’ she said. ‘I am pleased. I’ve always felt that you, with all your keenness and multifarious interests in life, were throwing your life away in these little backwaters like Riseholme and Tilling. London is the only place for you! Now, tell me: Are you going to get a flat or a house? And where is it to be? If I were you I should have a house!’

  This was not quite what Georgie had expected. He had thought that Lucia would suggest that now that he was quit of Riseholme he positively must come to Tilling, but not only did she fail to do that, but she seemed delighted that no such thought had entered into his head.

  ‘I haven’t really thought about that yet,’ he said. ‘There’s something to be said for a flat.’

  ‘No doubt. It’s more compact, and then there’s no bother about rates and taxes. And you’ll have your car, I suppose. And will your cook go with you? What does she say to it all?’

  ‘I haven’t told her yet,’ said Georgie, beginning to get a little pensive.

  ‘Really? I should have thought you would have done that at once. And isn’t Foljambe pleased that you are so happy again?’

  ‘She doesn’t know yet,’ said Georgie. ‘I thought I would tell you first.

  ‘Dear Georgie, how sweet of you,’ said Lucia. ‘I’m sure Foljambe will be as pleased as I am. You’ll be going up to London, I suppose, constantly now till the end of this month, so that you can get your house or your flat, whichever it is, ready as soon as possible. How busy you and I will be, you settling into London and I into Tilling. Do you know, supposing you had thought of living permanently here, now that you’ve got rid of your house at Riseholme, I should have done my best to persuade you not to, though I know in my selfishness that I did suggest that yesterday. But it would never do, Georgie. It’s all very well for elderly women like me, who just want a little peace and quietness, or for retired men like Major Benjy or for dilettantes like Mr Wyse, but for you, a thousand times no. I am sure of it.’

  Georgie got thoughtfuller and thoughtfuller. It had been rather a mistake to try to tease Lucia, for so far from being teased she was simply pleased. The longer she went on like this, and there seemed no end to her expressions of approval, the harder it would be to tell her.

  ‘Do you really think that?’ he said.

  ‘Indeed I do. You would soon be terribly bored with Tilling. Oh, Georgie, I am so pleased with your good fortune and your good sense. I wonder if the agents here have got any houses or flats in London on their books. Let’s go down there at once and see. We might find something. I’ll run and put on my hat.’

  Georgie threw in his hand. As usual Lucia had come out on top.

  ‘You’re too tarsome,’ he said. ‘You don’t believe a single word I’ve been telling you of my plans.’

  ‘My dear, of course I don’t,’ said Lucia brightly. ‘I never heard such a pack of rubbish. Ananias is not in it. But it is true about selling your Riseholme house, I hope?’

  ‘Yes, that part is,’ said Georgie.

  ‘Then of course you’re going to live here, said she. ‘I meant you to do that all along. Now how about Mallards Cottage? I saw that Yahoo in the High Street this morning, and she told me she wanted to let it for the winter. Let’s go down to the agents’ as I suggested, and see.’

  ‘I’ve done that already,’ said Georgie, ‘for I met her too, and she nearly knocked me down. I’ve got a five years’ lease of it.’

  It was not in Lucia’s nature to crow over anybody. She proved her quality and passed on to something else.

  ‘Perfect!’ she said. ‘It has all come out just as I planned, so that’s all right. Now, if you’ve got nothing to do, let us have some music.’

  She got out the new Mozart which she had been practising.

  ‘This looks a lovely duet,’ she said, ‘and we haven’t tried it yet. I shall be terribly rusty, for all the time I had influenza, I hardly dared to play the piano at all.’

  Georgie looked at the new Mozart.

  ‘It does look nice,’ he said. ‘Tum-ti-tum. Why, that’s the one I heard you practising so busily yesterday morning.’

  Lucia took not the slightest notice of this.

  ‘We begin together,’ she said, ‘on the third beat. Now … Uno, due, TRE!’

  8

  The painting and decorating of Grebe began at once. Irene offered to do all the painting with her own hands, and recommended as a scheme for the music-room, a black ceiling and four walls of different colours, vermilion, emerald green, ultramarine and yellow. It would take a couple of months or so to execute, and the cost would be considerable as lapis lazuli must certainly be used for the ultramarine wall, but she assured Lucia that the result would be unique and marvellously stimulating to the eye, especially if she would add a magenta carpet and a nickel-plated mantelpiece.

  ‘It sounds too lovely, dear,’ said Lucia, contemplating the sample of colours which Irene submitted to her, ‘but I feel sure I shan’t be able to afford it. Such a pity! Those beautiful hues!’

  Then Irene besought her to introduce a little variety into the shape of the windows. It would be amusing to have one window egg-shaped, and another triangular, and another with five or six or seven irregular sides, so that it looked as if it was a hole in the wall made by a shell. Or how about a front door that, instead of opening sideways, let down like a portcullis?

  Irene rose to more daring conceptions yet. One night she had dined on a pot of strawberry jam and half a pint of very potent cocktails, because she wanted her eye for colour to be at its keenest round about eleven o’clock when the moon would rise over the marsh, and she hoped to put the lid for ever on Whistler’s naïve old-fashioned attempts to paint moonlight. After this salubrious meal she had come round to Mallards, waiting for the moon to rise and sat for half an hour at Lucia’s piano, striking random chords, and asking Lucia what colour they were. These musical rainbows suggested a wonderful idea, and she shut down the piano with a splendid purple bang.

  ‘Darling, I’ve got a new scheme for Grebe,’ she said. ‘I want you to furnish a room sideways, if you understand what I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think I do,’ said Lucia
.

  ‘Why, like this,’ said Irene very thoughtfully. ‘You would open the door of the room and find you were walking about on wallpaper with pictures hanging on it. (I’ll do the pictures for you.) Then one side of the room where the window is would be whitewashed as if it was a ceiling and the window would be the skylight. The opposite side would be the floor; and you would have the furniture screwed on to it. The other walls, including the one which would be the ceiling in an ordinary room, would be covered with wallpaper and more pictures and a book-case. It would all be sideways, you see: you’d enter through the wall, and the room would be at right angles to you; ceiling on the left, floor on the right, or vice versa. It would give you a perfectly new perception of the world. You would see everything from a new angle, which is what we want so much in life nowadays. Don’t you think so?’