Complete Works of Ford Madox Ford, page 706
It seemed to reduce itself rather to an absurdity.
Legally no contract stands that has been extracted from an intoxicated man. If a man or a woman is drunk when being married the marriage is dissoluble by the laws of most states. He would have been legally justified in rescinding the contract. No court of law would have upheld it... But he could not get out of it in that way. He knew perfectly well that according to his code he must respect his signature however it was obtained.
It was the morning of the Friday that was exactly three weeks after Porter’s death. He was sitting at his table watching Miss Cresswell, spectacled and almost spinsterly, getting his letters ready for inspection. He had the feeling of restfulness that precedes a day of battle, leaning back in his round-back chair. And he was feeling benevolent.
He said:
‘Miss Cresswell, tell me, as a matter of curiosity, did you ever get drunk?’
She gave him, through the sides of her glasses, a little look of almost agonised fear. He said:
‘Oh, don’t be afraid. I’m not questioning your admirable efficiency. I’ve exceeded, myself, in my time, but no one questions my ability to carry on.’
She gave him seriously her full face, the blue eyes enlarged by the glasses, the nostrils turning upwards. She said:
‘Why, Mr. Notterdam, it’s impossible not to take a little too much from time to time in New York, if one wishes to be a popular girl. I do not remember ever to have really exceeded more than twice.’
‘You could not absolutely go on the water-waggon?’ She said:
‘You have to go to little parties about once a week. You never know what you get to drink.’
He said:
‘You wouldn’t have any friends if you did not? You could not entertain them at home?’
She said:
‘Your boy friends won’t come if they mayn’t bring bottles. That is almost worse in its effects!’
He learned that on the one occasion when she had been really intoxicated she had run about assuring the company, who were mostly Italians as far as she could remember, that she was not really that sort of a girl; on the other she had indulged too much before a watch-night service and had vomited in the church during the performance of the Messiah. She was, of course, filled with shame at the remembrance, but she stoutly refused to regard the action as, say, blasphemy. She hoped she had made her peace with God by confession; if she condemned herself she would have to condemn nearly all her friends and half the city. This she did not propose to do... But she did hope that she would not give him a wrong opinion of her. She wanted him to understand that during busy seasons of publishing she went to no parties... Before Christmas, the sales are brisk; in the early fall correspondence was very heavy with orders. She kept herself strictly to herself at these seasons. That was why she had let herself go a little on that Christmas Eve. She had been afraid that she had lost caste with her friends by going to no parties for three weeks. She had deliberately taken a little too much. She had had to. A girl cannot live alone in New York.
Her case did not of course much help him to estimate his own. She was a Roman Catholic who could take refuge in the confessional... He plunged into work, of which, heaven knew, there was sufficient.
It was increased because of the enhanced respect that the whole office shewed him. Even for the presidents of great houses there is respect and respect. In this case the form the increased respect took was shewn, inconveniently, ay a sort of nervousness that overtook almost all the staff. From the shining Walpfortzheimer and Wetterhahn to Mr. Holzhauer and Miss Brooke Phelps herself, they were all now anxious for his counsel. In matters that, previous to his scene with Kratch at the editorial council, they would on the one hand have settled by consultation with Kratch himself or on the other by consultation amongst themselves! He had always been pretty supreme in the office, but an undertow of divided authority had been caused by the presence of Kratch in his bungalow on the roof. Now that was completely gone. Mr. Walpfortzheimer was so nervous that he had positively to consult Notterdam as to the desirability of letting pass a rather realistic description of a necking party in a romance of sophomore life. It was by an author who had already proved his ability to sell, by the fifty thousand, similar works of fiction!
He was asking Miss Phelps and Holzhauer to make out a scheme for division of the office labour if he should be called to Europe and if Miss Henrietta Felise should be declared unfit to work any longer. Mr. Frederick Willems Fredericks spoke to him over the phone. Mr. Fredericks’ wheezy voice was so shaken by emotion that it was difficult to make him out. The all-powerful journalist was almost out of his mind with admiration for Porter’s book. He had sat up all night to read it. He must at all costs have an interview with Mrs. Porter. He wanted to broadcast it on the day after the morrow from Washington. He was going next morning. That broadcasting would be heard by several million people and would make the most powerful impression on them. The trouble was making a date with Lola. Mr. Fredericks would be running all day from pillar to post: there was no knowing where he would or would not be. The only thing he could do would be to phone the office in case he foresaw an hour when he would be at liberty.
The only thing that Notterdam, on the other hand, could do, would be to keep Mrs. Porter posted. She must be ready to start at a moment’s notice for New York. Finally it was agreed that Mr. Fredericks should phone the office when it was open or Holzhauer at his private address after hours. Holzhauer enthusiastically agreed to stay at home for the purpose. Notterdam would let Holzhauer know his movements... This was Business!
He emerged from his conversation on the phone into an atmosphere of tremendous enthusiasm. Holzhauer and Miss Brooke Phelps had shining eyes. It was splendid the way he had managed this whole affair of Porter. It was all the more splendid in that Porter was an author in whom they could both take an interest. That was more than could be said for most of the books the House published. It looked as if Notterdam was really going to put him over - all off his own bat. For Fredericks was the star news-and-political broadcaster of the day. He had literally millions of readers and hearers. He was reputed to be able to turn a presidential election. But he rarely, if ever, turned his attention to books or writers. When he did so the effect on sales was overwhelming. He got right down into levels of the nation that no writer of merit ever penetrated... And it had been Notterdam’s splendid idea to secure his attention for Porter! Those two entered with enthusiasm into the idea of giving him a holiday by doubling their own work. They said he need have no fear of things going wrong even if he were away for a couple of months or more. They would see to that!
At lunch-time the desire to have a self-congratulatory highball or two became almost overwhelming. That he resisted it was the measure of his feeling for Henrietta Felise. He was determined to meet her with a clear head.
He lunched off a baked apple, some cream and a cup of coffee such as he had had sent up from a near-by restaurant for the last fortnight. It would be impossible to abstain if he went out to any of his usual eating-places. He would meet his fellows!
The telephone operator at last got him into contact with his own home. He said to Elspeth that he wanted to talk to Mrs. Porter.
She exclaimed:
‘You can’t. You shan’t. I won’t have you talking to that woman. Not under my roof. I’m through!’
He explained that it was necessary that Lola should be warned to hold herself in readiness for Frederick Willems Fredericks. She said she would not have the woman’s name coupled with his, Notterdam’s, in any publicity. He heard a rhythmical thudding sound and knew that she must be drumming with her closed fist on the table beside the instrument. It was a habit she had when she was terribly irritated - but only when she was terribly irritated. There succeeded a complete silence; it affected him as if she were watching him, stealthy and invisible. He said:
‘I am afraid you’re ill....’
The voice came back:
‘I’m not ill... I’m driven mad... That woman went off on the cob at half-past eight and she’s not back. She’s gone to some man.’
He said:
‘Come, come!’
The voice exclaimed:
‘She’s with some man... She’s been seen with him...’ Then, with one of the sudden returns of reasonableness that were so characteristic of her, her voice said: ‘Of course she must be warned that Fredericks wants to see her... And no doubt the cob will come back all right... But I’m driven mad... With worries...Jean and Robert both have throats at Boston... I’ve been phoning the bacteriologists all the morning... It may be diphtheria or it mayn’t... And I do not dare go there with my cold...’ He could hear her sobbing. He said:
‘My dear, if you are sick, shall I come to you?’ It would mean delaying his meeting with Henrietta Felise....
Elspeth’s voice exclaimed:
‘No. No! For the Lord’s sake no... I don’t know.... I don’t know what to do... Our receiving set is out of order... It’s harrowing...’ He said:
‘But they don’t radio to you from Boston... You can phone...’
She began to speak, but her voice failed. Then:
‘Oh, God,’ it cried out, and he imagined her clutching at her hair, ‘the man....’
He asked:
‘What man?...’ He thought she must be talking of the man Lola Porter was meeting. She said something that he did not catch.
She exclaimed:
‘He’s being operated on... Now... At this minute.... While we’re talking... Oh, God... And the children....’
He said:
‘Who’s being operated on?’
She calmed her sobbing voice in a long pause. It said steadily:
‘The man I care for... And I can’t go to him...
He surprised himself by saying:
‘It seems to be your duty to go to him. He is in grave danger or you would not talk about it. The children after all... They aren’t your children...I’m sorry.’
He began again, stumbingly:
‘It is difficult for me. I desire your... peace of mind. Perhaps I ought to come to you. I would be glad to be of service. I suppose I could not get on to you all the morning because you had Boston.’
She said with extreme distinctness:
‘They are his children... He may have to die in loneliness. But he would prefer that the children....’ He exclaimed:
‘My God, this is very dreadful.’
Of course she would have had time to be delivered of children. He had been absent from home for months at a time. He supposed himself to be one of the very few who had been in every state of the Union.
Then she had had carnal knowledge of the man. His bowels turned over within him. He panted - his heart was beating so heavily that he panted:
‘Then all the while you were....’
She said:
‘No... They’re his children, not mine... I adopted them before we came together... No, before we had an understanding again... The second understanding... Oh, but only an understanding... I’m so distracted. It is difficult to be accurate... Intelligible... We scarcely met....’
He said:
‘But at least you had that outlet....’
She exclaimed:
‘Oh, forgive... We tried... We aimed at... Absolute circumspection... But when I knew he was... Oh, perhaps doomed... doomed... doomed...’ She cried out:
‘Perhaps I shall never... Perhaps at this moment his poor soul...
He said:
‘I entreat you not to imagine that I blame... I am glad you had... let-ups... Not a grey...
She cried out:
‘Oh, my God... It’s coming... I daren’t... Pray for me now... You’re a good man... Now... Oh, they wouldn’t ring me if he had... passed over? They wouldn’t, would they? Say they wouldn’t. Now!’ Her voice ceased.
He sat intolerably lonely... Behind that silence she was talking to that other one. The fellow had haunted him, it seemed, all his life. He sat without a thought.
Miss Cresswell came in from lunch. He asked her to be good enough to establish herself in the ante-room. She asked him if he were ill. He said: No, did he look it? She said anything in the world she could do... He told her to keep all visitors out.
He sat, trying to decipher the names of the most distant row of books on the shelves before him. At the far end of the room. He knew the names. But he could not decipher them.
He screamed at the slight buzzing of the instrument on his desk. An actual scream. A man called Hogstraat wanted to talk to him. He told the house operator to let no one speak to him until Mrs. Notterdam had rung him up again....
It came into his head that she could not be speaking to the man. He was being operated on. She must be speaking to surgeons. Nurses. Dressers. A population in white. It was a relief.
He took the instrument quite calmly to him when it rang.
Prolonged, regular-intervalled sounds came to him. Deep-breathing... Tremendously prolonged sobs at long intervals....
‘I’m... sorry... I beg... your pardon...’ came to him.
He said:
‘I hope... I pray even... that it isn’t....’
She said:
‘It’s relief... Oh, such great relief...’ She said: ‘I can’t help it...’ and her sobs recommenced. His own eyes were filled with tears and the relaxation in his chest was tremendous. Why should he be glad that an unknown quantity was not dead?
Her voice said insistently:
‘Listen!’ Then he knew she was seeking for words.
It said:
‘I have been thinking whilst I was waiting for that call... This must not occur again... It is probably bound to... But it must not...’ She paused and said: ‘Listen, Joe. If you want to marry Henrietta Felise I will divorce you at once....’
His brain whirled within its pan. He missed his own next words.
She was saying:
‘One can’t live with a man for nearly thirty years and not know from his intonation what’s in his heart when a name is mentioned.... But, oh, Joe. Be good to her....’
He said:
‘I haven’t... I hadn’t till this moment the least idea of marrying....’
Her voice came back:
‘You hadn’t... You couldn’t have had... the idea of....’
He exclaimed:
‘No, No! Never... I swear....’
She said:
‘I will do whatever you want... Because God has been good to me... The surgeon says the operation has completely succeeded... Complètement reussi means completely succeeded... Oh, forgive me... But you don’t know....’
He said:
‘Yes, yes. I absolutely understand....’
He had to understand that he had been cuckolded! Just God!
It was curious that it did not seem to matter. The only thing that mattered was Elspeth’s distress. He wanted to do something to comfort her. Something material and important. He said:
‘Hadn’t I better come home to you?’
The voice said urgently:
‘No, no! Stop in New York for the next few days... I will see that the Porter woman is warned about the interview... I will see that she gets to it...I recognize the importance.’
He wondered how she could have divined his passion for Henrietta Felise. He must have spoken of the girl more often than he remembered. He knew he had spoken about her more often than was necessary - just for the pleasure of hearing her spoken about always with praise!
But the idea of a practicable marriage - close at hand. That startled him. He did not know that he wanted to marry Henrietta Felise. He wanted to hang over — oh, to see the changing expression of her eyes! He could say to himself: ‘I want her arms round my neck!’ But he could not imagine it with his senses... It was probably Nature’s provision for guarding the mothers of the race. When you absolutely loved a woman Nature saw to it that you respected her. That was no doubt good for the children of the union... But marriage! He felt himself too old; too insecure. If he married so young a girl she would perhaps be unfaithful to him. Or she might pine for want of children. He perhaps could not beget children.
Elspeth’s voice said - he had forgotten that he had the receiver to his ear:
‘As we shall never meet again....’
He exclaimed:
‘What’s that? What? What?’
She said:
‘I imagine you will not want to see me again after what I told you about the children. I will try to explain, but I admit it was unpardonable.’
He said:
‘Let us leave it alone. You must not think of not seeing me again.’
She said:
‘No, I must explain... It was after he left me - after we had agreed that we must separate that he had a... a liaison with a bad woman. A bad mother... The children, you remember, are fifteen and thirteen. So that, you see it was after you read the letter. And he made me... he is terribly imperious... adopt....’ She paused for a moment.
‘I did not want to... I saw the indecency - the wrong it would be to you to take them if I could not put him out of my heart. And I never have. But he had the terrible argument - that if I did not... if I would not have something that kept him in my heart, he would take me away... You see... I wanted to spare you mortification. We both did. And you were terribly troubled then... I could not desert - a sinking ship. You have always been fine in adversity... So that it was out of affection... A pretty poor way of shewing affection... But of course he could have taken me away...’ She paused and then said earnestly: ‘Let us make it easy. The day after to-morrow I shall go to Boston. Then you can come and clear out your things... And that woman, too, I hope....’
He said:
‘But we must say good-bye... I... damn it... I respect... I... we can’t have been all these years together....’
‘We’re saying good-bye, now,’ she answered. ‘Don’t say any more or I shall break down again...Yes, we’ve made rather a good job of things... And I would not like you to see me as I am - for a last remembrance to take away... I’m repulsive... with this terrible cold... And a good deal of anxiety. Stop away, please... I shall divorce you from Boston. But, oh, Joe, keep out of scrapes... Be good to that girl... She’s frightfully passionate and proud... Here’s that woman!.. God bless you for ever and good luck... Stay in New York whatever you do....’
