The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (433 page)

T
HE
H
OUSE ON THE
H
UDSON

I
T SEEMED TO
Alayne the longest winter she had ever known. When she had left Jalna she had pictured a new, active life, a life in which her true self which she felt had been hampered, warped, in the years in that house, might again expand. In the intellectual activity she would free herself from the chains of her life with Renny, heal herself from the galling remembrance of Clara Lebraux. She would mingle with the sort of people she had known before her first marriage, people who read the new books, saw the new plays and discussed them, people who took a broad and detached view of life.

But above all else, above all else she would be far from the sight of the face she had grown to distrust, to shrink from; far from the sound of that voice which now jarred her morbidly sensitive nerves to discord!

Her pregnancy had changed everything. It had complicated everything, given her a different outlook on her surroundings. Else how could all plans she made turn out so futile, so profitless? She found little pleasure in renewing old acquaintances or making new. The people she met seemed, after the highly individual and strong-featured Whiteoaks, stereotyped, colourless. She could no longer become one of them. She was a different person from the one she had been. The harsh contact of Jalna had roughened her. She was neither one thing nor the other, she told herself — at home nowhere.

After the Horse Show, Rosamond Trent insisted on Alayne’s going out with her every now and again but she did not recapture even a shadow of the exhilaration she had felt on that night. Now she often wished she had not gone to the Show. Not since had she been able to get the picture of Renny out of her mind. On his stalking mare he kept pace with her thoughts day and night.

She went to meetings of literary clubs and returned in increasing despondency. Then she would go to her room, lie down on her bed and enact over and over the last scenes between her and Renny. She would feel bitter pride in the remembrance of thrusts that had made him wince. She would think of things that she might have said and writhe at the thought that he would never be pierced by their sting. Sometimes she even recalled happy hours and the memory of his infectious laughter made her smile. One by one the faces of all the family would pass smiling before her closed eyes. She would feel that she could almost touch Nook’s silky head. She would see the dogs in greedy procession, licking dishes, gnawing bones, scratching fleas. She would see the horses, the pigs, the sheep, the cattle in a fantastic roundabout. But whatever her imaginings were they always ended with the remembrance of her dark descent into the ravine, of finding Renny and Clara there, of the terrible days that followed, and she would roll her head on the pillow and cry till her eyes were red.

By Christmas her condition was obvious and she refused to go anywhere. She and her aunt were invited to spend the day with friends but she refused to go. Her despondency had its effect on Miss Archer, who more than once looked back with longing to the days when she had her house to herself, and her safe income. She was a woman who was ready to enjoy any pleasure that came to hand and she found Alayne’s shrinking from society inexplicable.

Alayne made no effort to prepare clothing for the coming child. Little garments could be bought — better than she could make them. But in secret Miss Archer knitted a supply of jackets and bootees, embroidered pillowcases and hemstitched tiny sheets. She gave these, daintily wrapped and ribboned, to Alayne on Christmas morning. Alayne was touched; she put her arms about Miss Archer and said:

“When all this is over, Aunt Harriet, we shall have a happier time. You have been so good to me.”

She was touched, too, by the several gifts from Jalna — Ernest’s handkerchiefs, Pheasant’s scarf, the exquisite lingerie from Sarah. But it was the plaid silk blouse from Adeline that held her. It baffled her. Had he chosen it? But how could he? He would have known it was not her style. Yet there was something mysterious in it, something of his hand in it…. She held it against her and asked:

“Does it become me?”

Miss Archer thought that nothing became her now but she answered:

“I think it brightens you up, dear.”

It was at the New Year when Alayne got the letter from her bank informing her that the stocks in which her money was invested had collapsed. The income from them had, overnight, become almost non-existent.

The shock was so great that, at first, she could not take it in. She read and re-read the letter, trying to draw from it a different meaning. But there was only one meaning and that was that she had nothing to live on, there was nothing for her and her old aunt and the child to live on till she was able to take a position — if she could get one!

She felt numb. Almost without emotion she broke the news to her aunt. To Miss Archer it seemed the last straw. She felt her spirit breaking beneath its increasing burdens. She wondered what she had ever done to deserve all this. Surely it was some sort of retribution! With an aching heart she reviewed her gentle past.

Alayne wrote at once to Mr. Cory, her former employer and her friend, put her case before him, and asked for a position as soon as she would be able to take one. He answered at once, telling her that the publishing business had never been worse but offering her a small position at a low salary. However, it would be enough to keep them! By hard work she would be able to keep the three of them.

Now that this livelihood was assured, her mind was able to turn freely to the full significance of her loss. It simply was that the money she had so rigorously guarded, the money she had so implacably protected from Renny, was gone — was dissolved to nothingness. And with it she might have taken the mortgage on Jalna! In a thousand ways she might have eased his struggle. If she had given him her money there would be no mortgage on Jalna. It seemed to her that the mortgage was the beginning of all their troubles. Her bitterness because of it had driven him to the arms of Clara. In this thought she reached a depth of despondency she had not before known. She was sleepless. She could eat next to nothing, yet she refused to see her doctor. Miss Archer began to fear that she would never live through childbirth or that, if she did, she would be unfit to take up any work.

On a morning in mid-January Alayne stood at the window where she had stood when she first broke the news of her pregnancy to Miss Archer, and looked out on the first blizzard of the winter season. From the lowering sky the fine sharp flakes swept in a white cloud past the pane. Alayne pictured great waves shouldering each other in the harbour. Though it was only ten o’clock in the morning it seemed like late afternoon. She had woken so very early, she was so tired and the snow fell as though it would never stop.

She laid her hands on the radiator for warmth and noticed, for the first time, how thin they were and how loose her rings. She wondered at herself for continuing to wear her wedding ring but she had not yet been able to make up her mind to abandon it.

The street was deserted. She listlessly watched the approach of a taxi that looked half smothered in snow. It stopped before the door. A man got out, paid the driver and, turning to the interior lifted out a child. With it in his arms he came toward the house.

She saw the child’s face pink in the snow. There was something in the man’s walk…. She looked at his face…. She looked more steadily, unbelieving, then believing…. She turned to Miss Archer and gasped:

“He can’t! He mustn’t! Don’t answer the door!” Then she fell in a faint at Miss Archer’s feet.

For a moment Harriet Archer was too terrified to move. Then, with a cry of “Alayne, darling!” she knelt beside her and took her head on her arm. Alayne remained white and motionless. What had she seen at the window? What had her words meant? Miss Archer ran to the window and looked out. The taxi had already disappeared, obliterated by the blizzard. The door bell rang loud and clear.

Thank God! Oh, thank God there was someone there to help her…. But what had Alayne said? “Don’t open the door!” Again the bell sounded. Miss Archer, almost herself fainting, looked at Alayne. Then she went to the door and attached the chain. She opened the door and peered out.

Renny at once tried to enter through the aperture, powdered with snow, carrying his child.

“I’m Renny Whiteoak,” he said. “I do want to get my infant in out of this blizzard. You’re Alayne’s aunt, aren’t you?”

Miss Archer shut the door. She stood leaning against it, the beating of her heart almost choking her. What should she do? Let him in and perhaps kill Alayne with the shock of seeing him? Shut him out and be left to face this crisis alone? She turned back to the living room to see if Alayne were conscious.

The door had not latched and blew open. Renny put his hand through the aperture and adroitly unhooked the chain which was too long. He closed the door behind him and set Adeline on her feet.

Without surprise Miss Archer turned to him.

“You must help me,” she said. “I think Alayne is dying.”

M
ISS
A
RCHER AND
R
ENNY

“H
AVE YOU BRANDY
?” said Renny.

“Not a drop.”

“No spirits?”

“None. But there are smelling salts.” Miss Archer fumbled distractedly in a drawer of the sewing table that had been her sister’s. She brought out a small dim bottle.

But the stopper was stuck. She kept her eyes away from Alayne’s ghastly face and watched him attack it, his lips drawn from his teeth in a savage grimace. He threw it down in despair.

“Get me some water, please!”

Miss Archer ran to the kitchen and brought him water in an enamelled cup. He had thrown open the window and was kneeling with Alayne in his arms. Her eyes were open but they stared straight in front of her. Her mouth hung open and she breathed heavily. He held the water to her lips and Miss Archer saw that his hand shook. More water was spilt than went down Alayne’s throat. He raised his eyes to Miss Archer’s face.

“Will you send for a doctor?” he said.

She saw accusation, reproach, in his eyes.

She went blindly to the telephone. “I must see the figures,” she said to herself. “I must see the figures.” But she could not dial the right number though she tried again and again. Adeline came close to her and stood watching, snow melting on her red hair.

Renny carried Alayne to the sofa and sat with her folded close in his arms, waiting.

Miss Archer turned to him. She said humbly — “I can’t see the figures.”

He made as though to lay Alayne on the sofa but, with a sudden rousing of strength, she clasped his neck in her arms and made a small, moaning sound of dissent. Her eyes turned wonderingly to his face.

“She’s better!” he exclaimed. “But we must have the doctor. Haven’t you glasses to help you see the figures?”

“Oh, it’s not my sight! It is that I am so upset. I’ll try again.” She went to the telephone and this time was successful. The doctor would come at once. Again Adeline ran to her side. In an access of affection toward Alayne’s child she bent and kissed her. “Poor little darling,” she breathed.

Adeline whispered — “Take me away. I don’t like being with them.” Her dark eyes rolled expressively toward her parents.

The appeal went to Miss Archer’s heart, flattered her, even while she thought it unnatural. She answered:

“Your mother will soon be well. But till then you shall stay with me.” She took the child’s firm little hand in her fragile one.

Renny carried Alayne to her room, Miss Archer following with a hot water bottle, Adeline clinging to her. When Alayne’s unwieldy body had been covered by an eiderdown, the hot water bottle laid at her feet, Miss Archer took the child and left husband and wife alone together.

Alayne had never unclasped her arms from his neck. She looked unbelievingly, wonderingly into his face.

“Do you know me?” he asked. “It’s Renny.”

“Renny …” she repeated. As she said his name the colour returned to her lips.

Seeing this he pressed his own to them. He whispered passionately — “Oh, my darling!”

She lay relaxed in his arms, letting fall from her the weight of the past months, absorbing comfort and strength from him with every nerve in her body.

He asked, in passionate reproach — “How could you hide this from me?”

Almost tranquilly she answered — “I don’t know.”

“When do you expect it?”

“In about six weeks.”

“My God! And to think that I knew nothing! To think that you might have stayed here — had our child here — away from me!” He put her from him and began to pace up and down the small room.

She watched him tranquilly, as though she were lying on a cloud. She felt that nothing could excite her, disturb her. She felt only unutterable surrender, weakness, and peace her lips even formed a faint smile. He looked so strange in that room of hers! It was so strange to see him in that house!

He came and knelt by the bed, took both her hands in his and put them about his neck. He buried his face against her unyielding side. His voice shook as he said:

“Now it is all right between us, isn’t it? All the past is over. You have … forgiven me…. Say that, Alayne — that all is well between us.”

“Don’t! You are going to make me cry and … I have cried so much … I don’t want to cry again….”

“Darling, you shall not cry — never again! I just wanted to hear you say that you forgave me….”

All her tranquility was shaken. She said hoarsely — “Forgive you! I am not the only one to forgive! I need forgiveness too. I’ve been a bad wife to you, I know I have — I feel it now!” She looked up at him tragically.

His face was contorted in his effort not to break down. “You must not say that,” he said. “You have always been far too good for me. You know that. You are so good, Alayne!”

She gave a bitter laugh. “
Good?
Yes,
good
— and self-centred and cold and selfish! What do you suppose has happened? All my money is gone — all the money I hoarded — the money I wouldn’t let you touch — the money I might have so helped you with! It’s gone!”