The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (393 page)

If each had come here for privacy or coolness they were disappointed in both. The luxuriant growth of honeysuckle, rushes, and long moist grass, the branches meeting overhead, kept out any breeze, and he and she stood face to face.

In emotional coherence pictures of the events of the last months rose before her, culminating in the picture of him standing on the bridge, as it were at bay. She saw the defensive light gathering in his eyes. He waited for her to speak.

She said—“It is very close here.” She put her hands on the railing of the bridge and looked down into the stream.

“We have chosen a bad spot,” he said. “There is no coolness here.”

“Except between us.”

“There is no coolness,” he exclaimed, “in my feeling toward you! I’m hurt—yes, I’m terribly hurt that you’d say what you did!”

“About Mrs. Lebraux, you mean.”

“Yes. I’ve given you no reason for that.”

She flashed at him—“No reason! Think before you say that, Renny! Think of the hours you have spent in that house—when I was lonely!”

“You might have heard every word that was spoken! You might have been there with us—if you had not been so high and mighty. But no—you look down on her. She is not your intellectual equal, you think.”

“Have I ever shown that attitude toward Pheasant or Meg?”

“They are in a different relationship. Clara Lebraux is my friend. Consequently you dislike her.”

“I dislike her for herself. The thought of her as a near neighbour—brought here in such a theatrical way by you— is distasteful to me.”

He said, broodingly—“You were never even kind to Pauline. You would not read French with her when she was getting no proper education. You’ve been hard.”

“You accuse me of hardness—when it is you who are hard! Do you realise what a blow you have given your family today? Did you see Piers’s face? I have been talking with him and—”

He interrupted—“Talking me over!”

“And why not? There’s only one thing in Piers’s mind— your borrowing money on Jalna.”

“You didn’t speak of Clara Lebraux?”

Denial was impossible to her. She did not reply.

“Everyone is against me!” he exclaimed. “And what is it all about? I have raised money on my property. Borrowed it from a friend—a cousin who is in love with my brother. I had to have it. I could not let things go on as they were. I’ve only done the decent thing.”

Alayne’s mind hovered about the thought of Clara. She said, in a cold voice:

“Mrs. Lebraux has a brother, hasn’t she?”

“If once you met him, you’d expect nothing of him.”

“And she and her daughter are as capable of looking after themselves as other women. Why should they lean on you?”

“They have no training of any kind. They couldn’t find anything suitable for them to do.”

“So we must be saddled with them!”

“You need never speak to them.”

“As though I could ignore them, when they’ll be at our very door!”

“You ignored Eden when he was dying at Vaughanlands!”

Good God, what was this he was throwing up at her? She steadied herself by the railing.

“Eden!” she said harshly. “What did you expect me to do about Eden?”

He answered with obvious effort—“I thought you might have gone to see him. You scarcely asked after him.”

“But what would it have looked like—for me to go to him—he my divorced husband—and your brother?”

“Eden never hurt us. He made the way clear for us.”

“He was unfaithful to me.”

Renny made an impatient movement.

“He knew that you didn’t love him any more.”

“But I could not go to see him! I could not!” Desperately she turned and looked into his eyes. “Less than an hour ago I was thinking of Eden—feeling so terribly sorry about him.”

“That was because you were angry at me.”

“Be careful what you say to me, Renny! You have the power to cut me to the heart!”

“But not to make you happy!”

“You know very well how to make me happy! But you don’t try… You know better still how to make me unhappy. And—and—” Her voice broke.

“Go on! Go on!”

“You seldom miss an opportunity.”

“Alayne!”

“It’s true.”

“You make me out a brute!”

“I say that you don’t care how you hurt me. You even blame me for Eden’s—”

He broke in—“Good God! I only meant that Eden had not hurt you by it. He must have seen that you didn’t love him any more.”

“He didn’t see. I kept it hidden. He could not have known.”

“You’re very clever but you couldn’t deceive Eden.”

She cried furiously—
“Will
you leave him out of this? You are like all your family. You never let the dead rest. You think yourselves so strong. But you are neurotic, I tell you. You see everything distorted.” She pointed to the pool beneath the bridge. “Like our faces down there… You never see things clearly.”

He looked down into the water.

“Do you?”

“I see that you’re infatuated with that woman.”

“I repeat that you might have heard every word we have exchanged and not been made jealous.”

“Words are not all. Even Piers has remarked how well she understands you.”

“I should think you would have too much pride to discuss our affairs with Piers.”

“How can I have pride and live here?”

He had been nervously twitching at a bit of broken bark on the rustic railing. Now in his anger and hurt he tore it off in a long strip, leaving the smooth wood exposed. It dropped from his hand and fell into the stream. He turned and walked quickly away, leaving her alone on the bridge.

R
ENNY
found Clara Lebraux standing on a chair while she took down the curtains from the window of the dining room. Standing so, with arms upraised and head thrown back, she gave the impression of a free and careless energy, but when she looked down at him over her shoulder, her face showed tired lines and it was troubled.

“I knocked,” he said, “but no one came. I’d seen you at the window so I knew what you were doing. But—what a job in a heat like this!”

“I must get things ready,” she answered. “Here, take this from me.” She slanted the curtain rod toward him.

He took it, and the brass rings slithered against his hand. He asked:

“Couldn’t the curtains be moved as they are?”

“They must be washed.” She proceeded to take down the other pair and, in stepping backward, would have fallen from the chair had he not caught her.

He set her on the floor. She was a solid weight.

“Well,” he exclaimed, “it’s a good thing you weren’t alone! You might have hurt yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she answered. “I did that very thing when I was taking down the curtains in the parlour and I only rasped my ankle.” She tilted her foot, which was covered only by a canvas sandal, and showed a raw spot on the ankle bone, from which a trickle of blood stained the brown skin.

“I am getting a very stupid person,” she said. “I turn dizzy for no reason at all.”

“It’s the weather.” And he added compassionately—“And the worry.”

“Oh, I’m as strong as a horse!”

“You have good blood apparently. But that spot should be touched with iodine.”

She shrugged, and began to gather up the curtains. She said, in a casual tone:

“Wake has been here. He says your family is upset by the news of our moving to Jalna.”

“Did he come here to tell you that?”

“No, no, I got it out of him. I knew you were telling them today. I really think we ought not to go. I shouldn’t feel comfortable.”

He expelled his breath sharply and sat down on the edge of the table and faced her.

“For heaven’s sake!” he exclaimed, “don’t ask me to talk any more of this affair. I thought it was all settled. My uncles and Piers are angry because I have raised money on the place. They were hilarious when they heard that I had bought the subdivision. It was the mortgage that upset them. But Sarah would never do anything against me. Finch would never let her. You’ll see that they will marry. And, as soon as the times improve, I shall pay off my debt. In the meantime you might as well be living on that bit of land as not. I’ve
bought your house and I must have somewhere to put it. Sometime I’ll renovate it and perhaps Wake and Pauline will live there.”

His look was both sanguine and masterful.

She asked—“How does your wife feel about it?”

“She is like the rest of us—rather unnerved by the heat.”

“Well, she need scarcely know that we are there. With the ravine between—we shall not see much of each other.” But she frowned doubtfully as she folded the curtains.

As he watched her he recalled scenes in which they had taken part together. Times when he and she had held Lebraux in his bed by main force during his last delirious illness. Times when he had helped her with the farm work or done things about the house for her. He had told Alayne the truth. Not a word had been exchanged between them which she might not have heard without cause for jealousy. Unless she might have been jealous of their tranquil understanding… And Piers had tried to make trouble between him and Alayne—as though there were not trouble enough without his putting a finger in the pie!

Pauline came in, followed by Wakefield. She looked pale from the heat and she carried some drooping flowers in her hand. She said:

“I went to the station with Wakefield—on the truck. There was quite a breeze. He brought me back in it. It’s at the gate.”

“You seem to have got over your fear of storms,” returned Clara. “Do you remember the day I came home and found you here with Renny—quite upset by the thunder?”

Pauline flushed. “I was very silly,” she said in a low voice.

“Tell me about it!” cried Wakefield. “As my grandmother used to say—’I like to know what is going on about me.”

Renny interrupted—“Did you leave the engine running?”

“Lord, yes!” He dashed out of the house.

Renny touched Pauline on the shoulder. “You must not let your mother back out of this move,” he said. “We must get you away from here.”

She drew back a little and Clara said:

“No need to worry over that! I shall be glad to part company from my old landlord.”

Wakefield returned. He said—“When I was a lad I used to amuse myself by wondering whether I should be a bishop or a judge or a Prime Minister. But I turned out to be a truck driver and I’m absolutely happy! Tomorrow we begin to raze the foundations of Maurice’s bungalows. I’ve always loved the word raze. It is so smooth and yet so deadly. Don’t you love it, my mother-in-law?”

“I have no imagination,” returned Clara stolidly.

“I’m afraid Pauline hasn’t much, either. But I have enough for the three of us.”

“Will you stay and have some supper?” asked Clara.

A roll of thunder answered her. The storm was coming back. Renny and Wakefield got into the truck, the elder watching, with some trepidation, the erratic sidlings of the machine along the rough road. He had scarcely ever been in it before, and the sight of Wakefield driving such a vehicle was grotesque to him. Before they reached the sheds the storm was on them. By the time they reached the house they were wet through.

The work of obliterating all signs of building from the newly acquired land was soon under way. Renny himself took part in it, evincing a ruthless pleasure in tearing down the flimsy
erections that had caused him so much chagrin. Maurice showed the same good-humoured interest in watching them pulled down as he had in their putting up. He had made up his mind that there should be no hard feeling between himself and Renny over the affair, but Meg, meeting Renny on the road, had refused to speak to him, had turned her face away. The house was shadowed by a feeling of bitter reproach. Ernest was resuming, one by one, his invalidish ways. He and Nicholas both avoided Renny, and at table they either addressed themselves to Alayne or talked in melancholy undertones of days gone by. Alayne would rather not have been so singled out by them, so definitely drawn to their side against Renny, for she felt something irrevocable in the tide thus moving them along, but she could not help herself. Something in her made it impossible for her to reach out to him, and he on his part felt himself in the position of one definitely in the wrong in the sight of his family. Wakefield alone was on his side, but he was still too much the child to oppose himself openly to his uncles. He sat silent at meals, wrapped in his own thoughts or perhaps teasing small Adeline, urging her to forwardness. She needed little urging and, young as she was, she was quite aware of the conflicting emotions about her. She would look long and speculatively upon the faces of Nicholas and Ernest or cast a defiant prideful look at her mother. She watched Renny’s every movement, tried to handle her spoon and fork as he did his, and refused to touch any food he did not like. If he said his bacon was undercooked she would not eat hers, and her infant opposition caused Alayne an irritation quite beyond its significance, for she saw in it a forecast of the future. At every opportunity her child would run from the house and follow Renny to the stables. He encouraged her in
this, and Alayne, in proud resentment, let them have their way, so Adeline was nearly always dirty and smelling of the horses and with horsy words on her lips.

When Finch returned from his visit to Sarah the state of affairs was concisely put before him by Piers. Shut in the piggery together, Piers poured out the sorry tale of the spiritual disruption of Jalna and prophesied to Finch that he would one day be its master.

All Finch could do was to pull at his sensitive underlip and reiterate—“Well, well, well.”

He slunk to the dinner table not knowing, but feeling sure that he must soon declare, which side he was on. The haggard looks of the elderly men distressed him. The rings under Alayne’s eyes, her compressed lips, moved him to compassion. The look, reserved, suspicious, and hangdog, on Renny’s face, his sudden staccato outbursts of mirth at Adeline’s capers, repelled him. But it was Wakefield who hastened his decision. Wakefield’s attitude of intimate understanding toward Renny, and his encouragement of Adeline’s naughtiness, roused Finch’s resentment. The boy was modelling himself on Renny.