The Complete Mapp & Lucia (11 page)

“My dears, what fun!” he said. “Let’s all have supper. But let’s move into the dining-room, where there’s a table, and I’ll get another bottle of wine, and some glasses, and we’ll bring Tipsipoozie in. You naughty girls, fancy arriving at a time like this. I suppose your plan was to go very quietly to bed, and come down to breakfast in the morning, and give me a fine surprise. Tell me about it now.”

So presently Tipsipoozie was having his marmalade, which did just as well as jam, and they were all eating slices off the ham, and stuffing them into split buns.

“Yes, we thought we might as well do it all in one go,” said Hermy, “and it’s a hundred and twenty miles, if it’s a yard. And then it was so late when we got here, we thought we wouldn’t disturb you, specially as the drawing-room window wasn’t bolted.”

“Bicycles outside,” said Ursy, “they’ll just have to be out at grass till morning. Oh, Tipsi-ipsi-poozie-woozy, how is you? Hope he behaved like the good little Tiptree that he is, Georgie?”

“O yes, we made great friends,” said Georgie sketchily. “He was wee bit upset at the station, but then he had a good tea with his Uncle Georgie and played hide and seek.”

Rather rashly, Georgie made a face at Tiptree, the sort of face which amuses children. But it didn’t amuse Tiptree, who made another face, in which teeth played a prominent part.

“Fool-dog,” said Hermy, carelessly smacking him across the nose. “Always hit him if he shows his teeth, Georgie. Pass the fizz.”

“Well, so we got through the drawing-room window,” continued Ursy, “and golly, we were hungry. So we foraged, and there we were! Jolly plucky of you, Georgie, to come down and beard us.”

“Real sport,” said Hermy. “And how’s old Fol-de-rol-de-ray? Why didn’t she come down and fight us, too?”

Georgie guessed that Hermy was making a humourous allusion to Foljambe, who was the one person in Riseholme whom his two sisters seemed to hold in respect. Ursy had once set a booby-trap for Georgie, but the mixed biscuits and Brazil nuts had descended on Foljambe instead. On that occasion Foljambe, girt about in impenetrable calm, had behaved as if nothing had happened and trod on biscuits and Brazil nuts without a smile, unaware to all appearance that there was anything whatever crunching and exploding beneath her feet. That had somehow quelled the two, who, as soon as she left the room again, swept up the mess, and put the uninjured Brazil nuts back into the dessert dish…. It would never do if Foljambe lost her prestige and was alluded to by some outrageously slangy name.

“If you mean Foljambe,” said Georgie icily, “it was because I didn’t think it worth while to disturb her.”

In spite of their ride, the indefatigable sisters were up early next morning, and the first thing Georgie saw out of his bathroom window was the pair of them practising lifting shots over the ducking pond on the green till breakfast was ready. He had given a short account of last night’s adventure to Foljambe when she called him, omitting the episode about his hair, and her disapproval was strongly indicated by her silence then, and the studied contempt of her manner to the sisters when they came in to breakfast.

“Hullo, Foljambe,” said Hermy. “We had a rare lark last night.”

“So I understand, miss,” said Foljambe.

“Got in through the drawing-room window,” said Hermy, hoping to make her smile.

“Indeed, miss,” said Foljambe. “Have you any orders for the car, sir?”

“Oh, Georgie, may we run over to the links this morning?” asked Hermy. “Mayn’t Dickie-bird take us there?”

She glanced at Foljambe to see whether this brilliant wit afforded her any amusement. Apparently it didn’t.

“Tell Dicky to be round at half-past ten,” said Georgie.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hurrah!” said Ursy. “Come, too, Foljambe, and we’ll have a three-ball match.”

“No, thank you, miss,” said Foljambe, and sailed from the room, looking down her nose.

“Golly, what an iceberg!” said Hermy when the door was quite shut.

Georgie was not sorry to have the morning to himself, for he wanted to have a little quiet practice at the Mozart trio, before he went over to Lucia’s at half-past eleven, the hour when she had arranged to run through it for the first time. He would also have time to do a few posturing exercises before the first Yoga-class, which was to take place in Lucia’s smoking-parlour at half-past twelve. That would make a pretty busy morning, and as for the afternoon, there would be sure to be some callers, since the arrival of his sisters had been expected, and after that he had to go to the Ambermere Arms for his visit to Olga Bracely…. And what was he to do about her with regard to Lucia? Already he had been guilty of disloyalty, for Lady Ambermere had warned him of the prima-donna’s arrival yesterday, and he had not instantly communicated that really great piece of news to Lucia. Should he make such amends as were in his power for that omission, or, greatly daring, should he keep her to himself, as Mrs Quantock so fervently wished that she had done with regard to the Guru? After the adventure of last night, he felt he ought to be able to look any situation in the face, but he found himself utterly unable to conceive himself manly and erect before the bird-like eyes of the Queen, if she found out that Olga Bracely had been at Riseholme for the day of her garden-party, and that Georgie, knowing it and having gone to see her, had not informed the Court of that fact.

The spirit of Bolshevism, the desire to throw off all authority and act independently, which had assailed him yesterday returned now with redoubled force. If he had been perfectly certain that he would not be found out, there is no doubt he would have kept it from her, and yet, after all, what was the glory of going to see Olga Bracely (and perhaps even entertaining her here) if all Riseholme did not turn green with jealousy? Moreover there was every chance of being found out, for Lady Ambermere would be at the garden party tomorrow, and she would be sure to wonder why Lucia had not asked Olga. Then it would come out that Lucia didn’t know of that eminent presence, and Lady Ambermere would be astonished that Georgie had not told her. Thus he would be in the situation which his imagination was unable to face, although he had thrown the drawing room door open in the middle of the night, and announced that he would fire with his poker.

No; he would have to tell Lucia, when he went to read the Mozart trio with her for the first time, and very likely she would call on Olga Bracely herself, though nobody had asked her to, and take all the wind out of Georgie’s sails. Sickening though that would be, he could not face the alternative, and he opened his copy of the Mozart trio with a sigh. Lucia
did
push and shove, and have everything her own way. Anyhow he would
not
tell her that Olga and her husband were dining at The Hall tonight; he would not even tell her that her husband’s name was Shuttleworth, and Lucia might make a dreadful mistake, and ask Mr and Mrs Bracely. That would be jam for Georgie, and he could easily imagine himself saying to Lucia, “My dear, I thought you must have known that she had married Mr Shuttleworth and kept her maiden name! How tarsome for you! They are so touchy about that sort of thing.”

Georgie heard the tinkle of the treble part of the Mozart trio (Lucia always took the treble, because it had more tune in it, though she pretended that she had not Georgie’s fine touch, which made the bass effective) as he let himself in to Shakespeare’s garden a few minutes before the appointed time. Lucia must have seen him from the window, for the subdued noise of the piano ceased even before he had got as far as Perdita’s garden round the sundial, and she opened the door to him. The far-away look was in her eyes, and the black undulations of hair had encroached a little on her forehead, but, after all, others besides Lucia had trouble with their hair, and Georgie only sympathized.

“Georgino mio!” she said. “It is all being so wonderful. There seems a new atmosphere about the house since my Guru came. Something holy and peaceful; do you not notice it?”

“Delicious!” said Georgie, inhaling the pot-pourri. “What is he doing now?”

“Meditating, and preparing for our class. I do hope dear Daisy will not bring in discordant elements.”

“Oh, but that’s not likely, is it?” said Georgie. “I thought he said she had so much light.”

“Yes, he did. But now he is a little troubled about her, I think. She did not want him to go away from her house, and she sent over here for some silk pyjamas belonging to her husband, which he thought she had given him. But Robert didn’t think so at all. The Guru brought them across yesterday after he had left good thoughts for her in her house. But it was the Guides who wished him to come here; they told him so distinctly. It would have been very wrong of me not to do as they said.”

She gave a great sigh.

“Let us have an hour with Mozart,” she said “and repel all thought of discord. My Guru says that music and flowers are good influences for those who are walkers on the Way. He says that my love for both of them which I have had all my life will help me very much.”

For one moment the mundane world obtruded itself into the calm peace.

“Any news in particular?” she asked. “I saw you drive back from the station yesterday afternoon, for I happened to be looking out of the window, in a little moment of leisure—the Guru says I work too hard, by the way—and your sisters were not with you. And yet there were two cabs, and a quantity of luggage. Did they not come?”

Georgie gave a respectably accurate account of all that had happened, omitting the fact of his terror when first he awoke, for that was not really a happening, and had had no effect on his subsequent proceedings. He also omitted the adventure about his hair, for that was quite extraneous, and said what fun they had all had over their supper at half past two this morning.”

“I think you were marvellously brave, Georgie,” said she, “and most good natured. You must have been sending out love, and so were full of it yourself, and that casts out fear.”

She spread the music open.

“Anything else?” she asked.

Georgie took his seat and put his rings on the candle-bracket.

“Oh yes,” he said, “Olga Bracely, the prima-donna, you know, and her husband are arriving at the Ambermere Arms this afternoon for a couple of days.”

The old fire kindled.

“No!” exclaimed Lucia. “Then they’ll be here for my party tomorrow. Fancy if she would come and sing for us! I shall certainly leave cards today, and write later in the evening, asking her.”

“I have been asked to go and see her,” said Georgie, not proudly.

The music rest fell down with a loud slap, but Lucia paid no attention.

“Let us go together then,” she said. “Who asked you to call on her?”

“Lady Ambermere,” said he.

“When she was in here yesterday? She never mentioned it to me. But she would certainly think it very odd of me not to call on friends of hers, and be polite to them. What time shall we go?”

Georgie made up his mind that wild horses should not drag from him the fact that Olga’s husband’s name was Shuttleworth, for here was Lucia grabbing at his discovery, just as she had grabbed at Daisy’s discovery who was now “her Guru.” She should call him Mr Bracely then.

“Somewhere about six, do you think?” said he, inwardly raging.

He looked up and distinctly saw that sharp foxy expression cross Lucia’s face, which from long knowledge of her he knew to betoken that she had thought of some new plan. But she did not choose to reveal it and reerected the music-rest.

“That will do beautifully,” she said. “And now for our heavenly Mozart. You must be patient with me, Georgie, for you know how badly I read.
Caro!
How difficult it looks. I am frightened! Lucia never saw such a dwefful thing to read!”

And it had been those very bars, which Georgie had heard through the open window just now.

“Georgie’s is much more dwefful!” he said, remembering the double sharp that came in the second bar. “Georgie fwightened too at reading it. O-o-h,” and he gave a little scream. “Cattivo Mozart to wite anything so dwefful diffy!”

It was quite clear at the class this morning that though the pupils were quite interested in the abstract messages of love which they were to shoot out in all directions, and in the atmosphere of peace with which they were to surround themselves, the branch of the subject which thrilled them to the marrow was the breathing exercises and contortions which, if persevered in, would give them youth and activity, faultless digestions and indefatigable energy. They all sat on the floor, and stopped up alternate nostrils, and held their breath till Mrs Quantock got purple in the face, and Georgie and Lucia red, and expelled their breath again with sudden puffs that set the rushes on the floor quivering, or with long quiet exhalations. Then there were certain postures to be learned, in one of which, entailing the bending of the body backwards, two of Georgie’s trouser-buttons came off with a sharp snap and he felt the corresponding member of his braces, thus violently released, spring up to his shoulder. Various other embarrassing noises issued from Lucia and Daisy that sounded like the bursting of strings and tapes, but everybody pretended to hear nothing at all, or covered up the report of those explosions with coughings and clearings of the throat. But apart from these discordances, everything was fairly harmonious indeed, so far from Daisy introducing discords, she wore a fixed smile, which it would have been purely cynical to call superior, when Lucia asked some amazingly simple question with regard to Om. She sighed too, at intervals, but these sighs were expressive of nothing but patience and resignation, till Lucia’s ignorance of the most elementary doctrines was enlightened, and though she rather pointedly looked in any direction but hers, and appeared completely unaware of her presence, she had not, after all, come here to look at Lucia, but to listen to her own (whatever Lucia might say) Guru.