01 The Building of Jalna (32 page)

When she woke it was still gently raining. Though the unseasonable heat was gone, there was a feeling of spring in the air. She found that Philip had dressed. The house was very quiet. She had slept late. At breakfast there were only herself and Daisy. The men had gone out and Mrs. Vaughan was not well. She had come down, had a cup of tea and been forced to return to her bed. She was subject to severe headaches.

Daisy talked volubly. The subject which enthralled her at the moment was the love affair between Kate Busby and Michael Brent.
In her opinion, Kate should defy her father and elope with her lover. She herself had counselled Kate to do this. Did not Adeline think she was right? After all what was there in life greater than sincere attachment?

Adeline was somewhat taciturn. She ate oatmeal porridge, cold ham and several sausages, with expedition. Then she went to Mrs. Vaughan’s bedroom door and tapped.

“Come in.” Mrs. Vaughan spoke in the tone of one who had prayed to be left alone.

Adeline came to the side of the bed. “It is a pity you are feeling so ill,” she said.

“Oh, I shall be all right. You know I have these miserable times.”

“Yes. ’Tis a pity. I myself am not too well. I had a heavy pain at dawn.”

Mrs. Vaughan was startled. “Do you mean — oh, surely your pains aren’t coming on yet! You told me the third week in April!”

“Yes. That’s when it’s due. But I think I shall make haste and get under my own roof today.”

“No, no, you must stay where you are. You must take things quietly. We can manage.”

Suddenly Adeline knelt down and took Mrs. Vaughan into her strong arms and kissed her.

“You are so kind,” she said, “How can I ever repay you!”

“Then you’ll stay?” asked Mrs. Vaughan faintly.

“No. I have a fancy to have my child at Jalna.”

“But those pains!”

“Oh, I warrant I shall hold out till the third week in April.”

Mrs. Vaughan burst into tears of relief, mingled with real affection.

“I am very fond of you,” she said, “much fonder than I am of Daisy.”

Adeline gave a little laugh. “Who wouldn’t be?” she said.

As she passed the children’s room she heard them prattling at their play. They were all right. No need to worry about them. She went to her own room, found a portmanteau and began to pack it
with toilet articles. To them she added two nightdresses, heavily trimmed with embroidery and stiff with tucks from collar to hem, and a red velvet peignoir. She felt a little giddy and sat back on her heels to collect herself. It took some time.

Was there anything else she should take? Yes, the silver flask of brandy they had on shipboard. She found it in Philip’s top drawer. She took it. It was quite half-full. Another pain struck her, tearing at her like a wild beast. She gave a cry, then pressed her hands over her mouth. She ground her teeth together. She would not give in. She would have her baby in her own bed.

The pain passed. She groped in the wardrobe for her bonnet and cloak. As she was putting them on she remembered that she had not ordered the horse and buggy to be brought to the door. She saw Patsy O’Flynn crossing the lawn and opened her window and called out to him: —

“Patsy-Joe, bring round the grey horse and buggy. If ever you moved quickly in your life move quickly now. Just throw the harness on to the beast and gallop back to the house.”

“What’s up, yer honour, Miss?”

“I’ll tell you later. Hurry — hurry! Run!”

Patsy-Joe ran to the stable, swinging his arms like flails to propel himself. When he returned it was obvious that he had thrown the harness on the horse. He met Adeline with a wild look. His sandy whiskers stood out on either side of his thin face. He snatched the portmanteau from her hand and hurled it into the buggy.

“Run to the parlor,” she said, “and fetch Boney! He must not be left.”

Patsy-Joe flung himself into the house and flung out again, the bird cage swinging from his hand. Boney, hilarious at this sudden break in the boredom of his present life, hung head downward from the top of his cage, uttering cries of delight. In his travels he had learned the word “good-bye” and he now screamed it repeatedly though without any accent of affection or gratitude.

“Good-bye — good-bye — good-bye!” he screamed, and his mouth curved upward beneath his dark beak.

Tremblingly Adeline climbed into the buggy. The parrot’s cries had made the old horse restive and he rolled his eyes and tried to move forward and backward simultaneously. Adeline caught up the reins. “My baby will be coming before long,” she said.

“Be quate, will you?” cried Patsy-Joe to the horse, putting in the portmanteau and the bird cage. “D’ye want to put me lady on to the gravel, you brute?” He scrambled to the seat beside Adeline. “Och, Miss Adeline, yer honour, I can see by the look in yer eyes that you have great pain in you and no wonder, the way you have run up and down thim stairs an lugged great armfuls of linen about! ’Tis himself will be vexed with you for lavin’ Misthress Vaughan’s house when naught is ready at Jalna.” He looked anxiously into her face. “But don’t worry. I’ll get ye there in good time.”

“You must not breath a word of this to anyone till I tell you. I feel better now. Drive fast but be careful of the ruts.” She took the cage on to her lap to steady it. Patsy had put up the buggy top so she was sheltered from the rain that fell like a silver veil from the dim grey sky.

Patsy set the portmanteau and the bird cage on the bed in Adeline’s room. “Shall I unpack the bags fer ye, Miss?” he asked, bending over and peering into her face. She had dropped panting into a chair. Loud hammering resounded through the house. It beat cruelly on her nerves. She said — “Tell them to stop the hammering, Patsy-Joe. Say that my head aches. Just that. Nothing more, mind. Then find Lizzie and send her to me. Tell her to come at once. Then drive to the Rectory and ask Mrs. Pink if she will come back with you. She’ll understand.”

“I will. I’ll be back with her before you know it, Miss. Hadn’t I better fetch the doctor — or the midwife if himself is out? Sure you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Not yet. I have things to do.”

“But can ye wait?”

“Yes. Run along, Patsy.”

“Hadn’t I better fetch the masther?”

“No, no. Do just what I have told you.”

He gave her a look of concentrated assurance of his capacity, so intense as to be comic. Then he tiptoed heavily from the room and clumped along the hall. In a moment the hammering ceased. She heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and the rattle of the buggy. Now all was silent except for the quiet drip of rain from the roof. Adeline drew a long quivering breath of relief. She sat with arms outstretched in her lap, relaxing her nerves, resting.

Now she heard Lizzie coming up the basement stairs.

“I was just on my way here,” she said, “when I met Mr. O’Flynn. He told me you are kind of sick. Shall I make you a cup of tea, ma’am?”

“Yes. I’d like a cup of tea. Build the fire up quickly and put on the big copper of water to heat.”

“Do you want this floor scrubbed and the window cleaned right now, ma’am?”

“No. Yes — you had better clean the window. I’ll find curtains and we’ll hang them. We’re preparing for a confinement, Lizzie.” She smiled a little maliciously at the girl.

“Land sakes alive!” Lizzie almost screamed. “I haven’t had no experience with them. I’m not twenty yet. You can’t expect me to know. I’d be scared to death.”

“I don’t expect anything of you except to do what you are told. The doctor will be here. There is plenty of time. Now — make the tea and put on the water to heat.”

Lizzie clattered down the stairs, almost beside herself from excitement. Adeline felt strong and capable. She opened the linen chest and took out sheets and blankets. When Lizzie returned they made the bed together. Adeline chose two small rugs from the mound in the hall and laid them on the floor of the bedroom. Lizzie cleaned and polished the window and, as they had no curtain rings or rods, they tacked up as a curtain a piece of Indian embroidery. Adeline fortified herself with strong tea. All the while she talked cheerfully to Lizzie who gave her frequent looks of apprehension. Now the room looked really habitable. Adeline could have sung for joy to think she was in it — safe under her own roof.

At last Mrs. Pink appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, how nice — how very nice!” she exclaimed. Then added — “From what your man tells me, you’re not feeling very well. Really I think you are running a great risk in working to the last minute.”

“Would you want to have your baby in another person’s house with a young lad just home from college?”

“No, indeed. I don’t blame you. But this is much sooner than you expected, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I’ve been overdoing it. Then there was the piano taking that tumble — I thought the horses were going over, too — it gave me quite a start.”

“Dr. Ramsey was not at home but his housekeeper will send him here as soon as he returns.”

More tea was made. Mrs. Pink busied herself unpacking the portmanteau, laying Adeline’s toilet articles on the dressing table. The figure of Kuan Yin caught her eye. “How pretty!” she said. “It’s Chinese, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The goddess Kuan Yin. She has promised to look after me.”

Adeline spoke with such sincerity that Mrs. Pink was startled.

“Oh, Mrs. Whiteoak, you’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Well I think there’s a good deal in these Eastern religions.”

“Still, I don’t think Christians should countenance them, do you?”

“God has countenanced them for a good many centuries, hasn’t He?”

“His ways are beyond our understanding, my husband says.”

Adeline moved restlessly about the room, then turned sharply to Mrs. Pink. “I think Philip had better be sent for. It is well to be on the safe side.”

Mrs. Pink hurried out. She sent one of the men to fetch Philip, then went down to the kitchen to see that Lizzie had preparations in progress. Adeline was alone when Philip came to her. He gave an astonished look about the room and at the freshly made bed where her nightdress and peignoir were laid out.

“What’s this?” he demanded.

“I’ve moved in.” She smiled up at him.

“The house is not ready and won’t be for another ten days. You can’t do it.”

“I have done it. It’s accomplished.” She surveyed what she had done with satisfaction. “Oh, Philip, dear, you’d not want me to have my baby at Vaughanlands, would you?”

“It’s not due till the end of the month.”

She spoke in a small voice. “I think it is coming today. I have sent Patsy for the doctor.”

“Good God!” he exclaimed, his blue eyes prominent.

“You wouldn’t want me to be out of my own bed, would you, Philip? I’ve had a time of it to get everything ready, I can tell you. But doesn’t it look nice?”

“Very nice,” he answered grimly.

Mrs. Pink returned to ask Adeline how she was.

“Better. I shall be all right for hours, I expect. Should you like to go home to see your little boy?”

“If you think you can spare me.” She turned to Philip. “My youngest has a gathering in his ear. I am keeping hearts of hot roast onions in it. I can’t trust the servant to do it. The doctor will be here any moment, I’m sure, and I shall not be gone long.”

Philip went to drive her to the Rectory. Adeline was alone but she did not mind. She was supremely happy. There, under her own roof, with the rain pattering lightly on it, she awaited her ordeal with more of pride than fear. She was in her own house. From now on she would do what she liked. Oh, how she loved the house! It spoke to her, as though in a deep reassuring voice. It resolved itself from the chaos of building and took shape as a home about her. Echoes of footsteps sounded through it, footsteps to come; unborn voices called out to her, not only the voice of the child to whom she was about to give birth but of her children’s children. She would spend all her days here. She and the house would have many secrets together. The house would teem with life, with emotion. It would hold all together inside its walls, over which in time vines and their leaves would grow.

P
HILIP SAID, AND
said it from the bottom of his heart, that he hoped and prayed Adeline would never have another child. To say nothing of her sufferings and the risk to her life, it was too hard on him. He felt a nervous wreck after this last. The doctor had been so long in coming that it looked as though the infant might be born without his assistance. The midwife had never arrived, being engaged in another confinement. It seemed for a time that Philip and Mrs. Pink would be Adeline’s sole support. At the mere thought of such a contingency, a cold sweat broke out on him. Adeline had more than her share of endurance but, for some reason, her self-control deserted her and she cried out with every pain. Time and again she declared that she was dying. When Dr. Ramsey came at last she faced him with defiance and momentary calm. Before he did anything for her relief he told her his opinion of her actions of the morning. In half an hour the child was born.

Though Adeline had gone through so much, her recovery was quick. This was probably because of her great content. The weather too became sunny and warm. All about her, indoors and out, the work went forward. There was jubilation among the workmen at the news of the birth in the new house. To the best of their ability
they did their work quietly. When the infant was ten days old, Philip carried him out to show him to them. He was a smaller, weaker child than Nicholas had been but he had pretty features, an exquisite skin, and his eyes were like forget-me-nots. The woodsmen, horny-handed and unkempt, crowded about him. They were pleased by the fineness of his long white robe and the little lace cap he wore. He looked up at them reflectively, placing the finger tips of one hand against those of the other.

Philip was delighted because he was the first of his children to show a resemblance to his own family. Adeline, with him on the pillow beside her, would study the small face and declare that, though his colouring was Philip’s, his features never would be. There was some discussion over his name. Philip chose Charles, his own father’s name. Adeline chose Dennis as the name least aggressively her father’s. Certainly, she declared, she would never name him after their doctor, as she had Nicholas after her loved Dr. St. Charles. But they could not decide which of his names he should go by. Each disliked the choice of the other. “Charles is a stern name,” she affirmed.