Lucia Triumphant (5 page)

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Authors: Tom Holt

Tags: #tilling, #ef benson, #lucia, #downton abby, #postwar england

BOOK: Lucia Triumphant
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The same question vexed Georgie as they walked back to Mallards, their marketing over for the day.

‘
I can't understand it,' said he. ‘You were practically venomous about Elizabeth's motor this morning and you said you couldn't wait for her to apply for a maintenance allowance so that you could throw it out.'

Lucia laughed, so that the street seemed full of little silver bells.
‘Georgino,
how literally you take everything. What possible exception could I take to poor Elizabeth wanting a car? She is getting on, you know.' In fact, she was younger than Lucia but that did not mean that Lucia's statement was incorrect. ‘And I suppose that hill up from Grebe is in places a little steep. And since Elizabeth is clearly anxious to make some small sensation, to bathe herself in the public attention which you know I so heartily abhor, why should I deny her the pleasure?'

‘
I don't know,' confessed Georgie, ‘but somehow that's the way it always seems to happen. Whenever you start a particularly good thing, Elizabeth always tries to put you down—I don't think she's ever forgiven you for coming to Tilling in the first place. And then you always do the same to her, because you say it's good for her not to be allowed to get away with making herself conspicuous. And you're right, I suppose. She can be an awful nuisance when she thinks you've put her down, so you have to put her down to stop her doing it again.'

‘
Quite so, Georgie,' said Lucia, who had not understood a word. ‘In this instance, however, my only fear—on her behalf—is that she might continue to make herself appear as ludicrous as she did this morning in Church Square. That van-driver,
caro
, such power of expression! If his views were less intemperate, we could use him on the Council. But she will soon become aware of the risk to her dignity—she is not totally insensitive to the opinions of others—and will quietly abandon her stunt. You will object that I, as her friend, ought to warn her of the danger she is in of becoming a laughing-stock and perhaps advise her—tactfully, of course—to dispose of her motor in the interests of her own physical safety, at the very least. But I have greater responsibilities than to my friends, I regret to say. Suppose I did act to suppress Elizabeth's motor, privately or even publicly.' (So she had thought of passing an ordinance!) ‘Imagine her wrath, Georgie, her bad humour! She would be sure to seek reprisals, perhaps even attempt to undermine the success of the Tapestry. And that I could not allow.'

‘
You mean it's to be peace between you and Elizabeth until after the Tapestry?' cried Georgie, horrified. The prospect of a cessation of hostilities was appalling, for this warfare provided him with the excitement that no other occupation could hope to offer. ‘Isn't that a bit drastic?'

‘
As far as I am concerned, there has always been peace between me and dear Elizabeth,' said his wife as she swept into Mallards. Georgie paused on the threshold for a moment as if hesitant to enter the habitation of such a perjurer lest it should be struck by lightning. Then a thought occurred to him and he hurried after her.

‘
But Lucia,' he said, ‘what if she tries to disrupt it anyway? If she thinks you've become weak and are letting her get away with the car, she might attack the Tapestry in any case, just to show that she's on top.'

‘
Just let her try,' said the pacifist grimly.

Lucia's remarkable speech (no one doubted for a moment that it was a speech—and they were quite correct) had caused a stir the like of which Tilling, that place of excitements, had not seen for many a year. Someone even suggested ringing the church bells to celebrate the armistice, but that was considered inadvisable since they had not heard Elizabeth's views on the matter.

It was coming on to rain and since Diva had closed down her tea-rooms until the summer season, there was no public place that was sheltered from the rain where prolonged discussion could take place. Yet public discussion there must be; so everyone went back to Diva's house and she was told off to telephone Mr. Georgie.

‘
Is Lucia listening?' she said.

‘
No,' said he, ‘she's in the garden-room working on—something or other.' He did not know if he was meant to tell everyone about the Tapestry yet.

‘
Then make some excuse and come round to Wasters at once. We're all dying to know what Lucia is up to.'

Georgie rang off and went to find Lucia. As it happened, she had come back into the house to pick up a book and had heard the telephone ring. Therefore when Georgie said that he had forgotten something and was just popping out for a moment, she deduced at once what the telephone call had been about and decided to tease him before letting him go. Besides, she thought, they can wait for a minute or so. It will increase the suspense.

‘
What have you forgotten?' she enquired sweetly.

‘
Sealing-wax,' he said quickly.

‘
But I have some in my desk,
caro
. No need to go out in the rain.'

‘
But it's not the right sort,' he said, desperately. ‘It's red and I wanted green.'

‘
Green sealing-wax! Fancy! Off you go then. And should you happen to bump into any of our friends, you might just drop the tiniest of hints that we have a treat in store for them worth twenty motor-cars. And do buy me some green sealing-wax. It does sound rather delightful.'

It was therefore as a holder of the Mayoral warrant that Georgie went forth to Wasters, hatless and running despite the risk to his
toupée
in the high wind. ‘Now, shall I tell them all about it, or shall I tease them too? And where on earth am I going to find green sealing-wax? Infuriating woman!'

There could be only one word to express Tilling's reaction to Georgie's narrative. It fell to Evie Bartlett to say it.

‘
No!' she said. ‘How exciting! But why? It's most unlike Lucia.'

Georgie felt he ought to rebuff what was, on balance, a slur on Lucia's name. But he could not in all honesty do so; and besides, the remark could just as well be interpreted as a tribute to her vitality and indomitable spirit, so he let it pass.

‘
She breaketh the bow,' said the Padre, who was a man of peace, ‘and knappeth the spear in sunder, and burneth the chariots in the fire.'

Talk of chariots returned the conversation to the subject of the motor-car.

‘
So she'll let Elizabeth keep her motor?' demanded Evie. ‘My goodness, how disappointing! I was looking forward to there being all sorts of excitements.'

‘
So was I,' admitted Georgie, ‘but there will be plenty of excitement to look forward to soon, and all in a good cause, too. Is that the time? I must be going.'

This clumsy attempt at suspense-brewing deceived no one, for he made no effort to move. He had expected a barrage of breathless enquiries, but none came. Finally, Mr. Wyse, whose acute social sense detected some embarrassment in the silence, took it upon himself to speak.

‘
May one enquire as to the nature of this excitement?' he asked. ‘I trust I am not proving ill-mannered in asking you this in so blunt a fashion, but I believe that you did mention that this undisclosed event would serve the common good and I am sure that we are all anxious to assist the Mayor in any of that most excellent lady's worthy projects.'

‘
It's probably just the old scheme to put up those dratted plaques everywhere,' said Diva, ‘saying where the fire started in fifteen-whatever-it-was and this was the site of the Anglo-Saxon fish market. And since we've all agreed that we don't want the wretched things on our houses—'

‘
No, it's not that,' said Georgie hurriedly, ‘although it is something to do with local history in a way. Shall I give you a clue? No, I'd better not, for it is a sort of Government secret and I wouldn't want to end up in prison.'

‘
Why not?' demanded Irene coldly, for she was most upset to hear that Mallards was to be at peace with Grebe. ‘You'd have no end of fun embroidering the mailbags.'

‘
Oot wi'it, mon,' boomed the Padre. ‘Ye can trust our discretion.'

‘
Very well, then,' said Georgie, rather nettled, ‘but only a little clue, and you must work it out for yourselves. Just two words to help you—“the Normans”. And now I really must be going, for I have to buy some sealing-wax for Lucia. Goodbye.'

By some remarkable chance, there was green sealing-wax to be had and he bought three sticks, one for himself and two for Lucia—‘Not that she deserves it, persecuting me like that. She can use it for official letters and make them look important. Oh dear, it wasn't a terribly good clue. I hope they won't be misled.'

For a while then, motorism was unchecked in Tilling. Yet the knowledge that conflict was not likely to result from it between the two great powers tended to diminish interest, and whatever interest there was likely to be seemed destined to be in such disasters as might befall Elizabeth as she pursued the science of motor-driving. Further admiration seemed unlikely. Some saw in this (or thought they saw) Lucia's foresightedness and strategic cunning. She had, they argued, foreseen that Elizabeth could only harm her
kudos
by continuing her stunt, and so permitted her to continue—in fact encouraged her. One of the chief proponents of this argument was Elizabeth herself and although she said as much only to Major Benjy, the view somehow reached a wider audience. On one thing all were agreed, however: Lucia had scored a notable victory but life was far less interesting as a result. On the fundamental question of motorism itself, only the Padre and Irene continued to discuss the matter, and, since they were agreed, there was little scope for further expansion of the theme. The Padre did make one last effort; he preached a fiery sermon in fluent Scotch on the text ‘On thy belly shalt thou crawl', developing the theme that God had provided us with feet to walk upon and that any form of locomotion in which the feet did not touch earth (or move pedals, for the Padre rode a bicycle) was in effect a contempt for the Creator and an attempt to improve on His work. In order not to offend both Lucia and the Wyses, however, he was compelled to dilute his finest passages with gentle speech, with the result that most of his parishioners took the sermon to be about a proposed road-widening scheme down by the Harbour.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was not finding the skill of motorism as easy to master as she had at first expected. What she needed, she decided, was practice and this must be obtained as far from home as possible. With this in mind, she raised the subject with her husband as they drove back from town one day.

‘
I think we might manage a holiday this year,' she shrieked over the shrill whine of the engine.

‘
For God's sake, engage third gear!' replied Major Benjy, helpfully.

‘
I am in third gear,' said Elizabeth and by the time she had finished making it the statement was true enough. ‘I thought we might motor down along the coast to Devonshire. Dawlish is recommended at this time of—'

Benjy had seized the wheel briefly and a dog had thereby been spared destruction. ‘I don't think you're quite ready for a long journey yet, old girl,' he said, returning the wheel to her hands. ‘A bit more practice might be in order before you get too ambitious.'

‘
Nonsense, Benjy, I've quite got the hang of the thing. But a nice long drive in the country wouldn't hurt, I grant you, where the roads are empty and we're away from the prying eyes and mocking tongues of our so-called friends.'

‘
You didn't object to eyes and tongues when you started,' said her husband. ‘Quite the reverse.'

‘
How hurtful you are sometimes, Benjy. You make it sound as if I welcomed their interest. You know very well that I hate to be the centre of attention—unlike some I could mention.'

They had returned to Grebe, and the motor, with an unbattered edge, was parked up for the day. Major Benjy jumped down, rather unsteadily, and handed his wife down from the vehicle.

‘
Besides,' she went on, ‘I feel like a change of surroundings. It will be pleasant to leave Tilling for a week or so and let our friends miss us. They'll soon tire of Lucia ordering them about.'

Major Benjy racked his brains for some reason to stay put. It was a long drive to Dawlish and it would seem longer still with his wife at the wheel.

‘
But your official work as Mayoress,' he insisted. ‘Can't just abandon your post like that. Most unsoldierly. Court-martial offence.'

‘
I am the public's servant, not their slave, and the humblest parlourmaid is allowed a little holiday. I'm sure Lucia can manage without me for a while and if she can't it might teach her not to take me quite so much for granted in future. Withers, tea and a small whisky-and-soda. A treat, Benjy-boy, to warm you up after the cold air.'

Benjy regarded her warily, for he feared wives bearing gifts. Clearly there was something else behind this project of a Devonshire holiday besides motoring-practice. He countermanded the whisky-and-soda.

‘
I still say it's too much. Too exacting, too tiring. I'll tell you what, though. We might share the driving, if you like, fifty-fifty or sixty-forty. Then you can get your practice without wearing yourself out.'

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