Found Floating, page 2
Dr Jellicoe came and was extraordinarily professional. But he was not extraordinarily illuminating. He sounded the old man and asked him questions. He took his blood pressure. He looked grave and very profound. Then he gave judgment.
‘I’m glad to tell you, Mr Carrington, that there’s nothing organic the matter with you. It looked at first, I admit, a little like your heart, but you’ll be pleased to know that your heart is perfectly sound. It seems to me you’ve been overworking and you’ve just got the resultant breakdown.’
‘Nothing of the kind,’ William answered helpfully. ‘I never overwork.’
But Dr Jellicoe was not to be beaten. He called Katherine.
‘Tell me, Miss Shirley,’ he asked innocently, ‘how long is it since your uncle has had a holiday?’
Katherine shook her head. ‘It’s ages,’ she declared. ‘Years! No proper holiday last year, though last February he did go out to Toulon on an Olympic cruise. But that was partly business: he wanted to see about contracts in Spain. However, it meant about a fortnight out of the office.’
Jellicoe looked severely at his patient, yet with a kind of triumph in his eye. ‘What did I tell you, Mr Carrington? Now you’ve got to drop work for at least a month. Go off to Madeira or somewhere of that kind and put business out of your mind. If you don’t,’ the doctor held up his finger and spoke as an oracle, ‘if you don’t, it may become a year’s job.’
But William did not take a holiday—not then. He worked on for some days longer, growing gradually more irritable, more silent, more depressed. Katherine called in Jellicoe again, and once more the doctor urged him to take some action. But still he would do nothing. Then one day he amazed and rather shocked Katherine.
‘I’ve cabled to Mant,’ he said, ‘offering him my place. He to do the work: I to act as consultant. I find the doctor is right. I can’t go on. I must have a rest to shake off this this illness.’
Katherine stared. ‘Mant!’ she exclaimed helplessly.
‘Yes, Mant,’ he repeated testily. ‘Who else?’
‘But you don’t know Mant,’ she protested.
‘I know about him. I’ve made very careful enquiries. He’s an able fellow, and what’s more, he’s a worker.’
The words were a hint to her not to make the suggestion he evidently saw in her mind; but she made it all the same. ‘What about Jim? Don’t you think that with your supervision he could do it? And after all’—she paused at a slight loss—‘after all Jim’s here and he’s—he’s a good fellow,’ she ended lamely.
‘He’s a very good fellow, I grant,’ William admitted, ‘but you know as well as I do he’s no businessman. In Jim’s hands the works would be down and out in a twelvemonth. No, I’ve cabled to Mant and I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t come.’
Katherine knew her uncle too well to protest further, but she saw at once that this would be a dreadful blow to Jim. She was sorry for Jim, but she did not see what more she could do in the matter.
Both William’s elder brother George, who had gone to Australia from the Gold Coast job, and his wife had died, and at this time their son Mant was a man of some five and thirty, unmarried and alone in the world. Odd phrases in his occasional letters had thrown some light on his career. That he had been through college and had taken a degree in engineering was known, also that he had a fairly good job in an electricity supplies firm in Sydney. What William’s further information amounted to Katherine did not know. He volunteered no more, and she didn’t ask.
For three days William made no reference to the matter, then on his return from the works he told Katherine that he had had a reply from Mant. ‘He’s leaving his job at once and coming home by air. It’ll take him a few days to square things up in Sydney, but he should be here in less than a month. Then I’ll take all the holiday you want.’ He paused, then went on with an unusual hesitation: ‘I’m sorry about Jim, but what could I do? After all, Mant is my nephew too, and the son of my elder brother. If my father had been alive it is what he would have done. Your Uncle George was a good fellow, and though we had a row about a girl long ago; it never developed into a real quarrel, and I should like to do what I could for his son.’
This was the first time Katherine had ever heard her uncle refer to that unpleasantness which had taken place on the Gold Coast so many years before. She wondered what exactly had happened, but even with the opening he had given her, she did not like to ask him. He was very close, was her Uncle William, and he could never be drawn.
Mant’s acceptance of his invitation seemed to gratify William. He settled down to await his nephew’s arrival in a more contented frame of mind. He was taking things at the works more easily, Katherine knew, both from his frequent early arrivals home, and also from various things Jim told her. He seemed slightly better in himself also, and so far as she knew, had no further attacks. But even so, he had lost much of his former efficiency and energy. Indeed, at times she could not but see that he had been severely shaken, and was but little more than the wreck of his former self.
On his return one evening he told Katherine he had heard from Mant, ‘He’s arrived in London,’ he explained, ‘and he’ll be down here tomorrow for lunch.’
‘Here?’ Katherine asked.
‘Yes.’ For the second time William hesitated in a way utterly unlike himself. ‘As a matter of fact, Katherine, I’ve asked him to stay with us, at least for the present. I hope you won’t mind?’
‘Mind?’ Katherine repeated. ‘Oh no. Why should I?’
If Mant proved agreeable it would, she thought, be pleasant rather than otherwise to have him. Often she found their way of life lonely; just the two of them in the house with the maid. And William after all was not much of a companion. He talked to her about the business, it was true, but she sometimes got tired of the business, and they had little else in common. Of course she was her own mistress. She could come or go at her pleasure and invite her friends to the house as she chose. But this last was usually for lunch. William did not object in so many words to visitors for dinner, but she could see he didn’t like it. For one thing, it meant dressing, and he preferred his rather disreputable old smoking jacket; for another it gave him the trouble of making polite conversation, which he disliked extremely.
Katherine had often thought of leaving the Grey House and going abroad, perhaps to Italy, where she could sketch and get among painting people. She could have afforded it. Her grandfather, old Thomas Carrington, had, as has been said, left half his money to William as necessary capital for the running of the works. The other half he had divided between his son George in Australia, and his daughters, the mothers of Katherine and Jim respectively. George had got a quarter of the whole, and Katherine and Jim, and Eva—Jim’s sister, through their mothers—one twelfth apiece. These twelfths, invested, brought each in some £200 a year. In addition William allowed Katherine another £200 a year with, of course, board and lodging, for keeping house for him and acting as his hostess. Of her £400 she never spent more than about a quarter, so she had a tidy nest egg in the bank to draw on in case of emergency.
Katherine had committed the terrible mistake of allowing her triple loss in the deaths of her lover, father and mother to rob her of her energy and initiative. When these blows had fallen she had felt it was no longer worthwhile making any exertion. And when she recovered from the shock she found she had formed a habit—the habit of living at the Grey House, and she had not made the effort necessary to break it. There was in fact a little more in it than that. She feared that if once she left the Grey House, say for a winter in Italy, her uncle would make different arrangements—perhaps marry—and though his house would doubtless still remain open to her, she would not care to stay in it otherwise than as its mistress.
So she remained on in what were after all very comfortable circumstances. She had, during the ten years of her residence there, formed many contacts outside the house. Though not specially good at games, she belonged both to the tennis and badminton clubs. What gave her more pleasure was her membership of the local dramatic society. She was no actress and got only small walking-on parts, but she painted with enthusiasm the sets which the society required for their various productions. She belonged also to the Bromsley Literary and Debating Society, though here her interest was but half hearted.
On the whole then the coming of Mant was a pleasant rather than a disagreeable prospect, and she looked forward to meeting him with quite considerable eagerness.
2
The Reception of Mant
Next day shortly before lunch William drove up to the Grey House with Mant beside him in the car. Katherine heard the crunching of the wheels and went out to meet them. The arrival of this new cousin from the opposite side of the world would affect all their lives, and she was anxious to see what he was like.
Her first impression was of his height. He was a tall man, a full inch taller than William, though William was all of six feet. Mant was also, so far as appearance went, every inch a Carrington. There was the same broad forehead, the same strongly marked features, the same heavy chin as appeared in the portraits of old Thomas, and which William also had inherited. And yet in spite of these, he did not give the same impression of force. Some little weakness about the mouth, a slightly shifty look in the eyes, robbed the face of its strength. His colouring also was different. While the elder men at his age had been swarthy of face and black of hair, Mant approached the albino type. His complexion was pale, his eyes light blue, and his hair the palest of straw.
As the car stopped he got out, and without waiting for an introduction, took off his hat and bowed low over Katherine’s hand,
‘I expect you’re Aunt Edith’s daughter,’ he said slowly, and with what seemed to her rather an American accent. ‘I’m pleased to meet my Cousin Katherine.’
It seemed a somewhat formal greeting, but Katherine was not to be outdone. ‘I’m pleased to meet my Cousin Mant,’ she assured him, adding largely, ‘welcome to England.’
‘Now that’s very good of you,’ he declared as he shot little questioning glances at her. ‘I think I should have recognised you. You’re like the pictures of your mother.’
His movements and speech were slow and deliberate, and Katherine sensed a sort of hesitation in his manner, as if he were not sure of himself or of his welcome. And yet there was no humility in his attitude. He gave her the impression that he could hold his own as well as anybody. He was well dressed, she noticed, English clothes, she was sure, and from a good tailor.
William now approached, followed by the gardener-chauffeur, carrying two suitcases. Mant turned to the latter.
Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll have them now.’ He took them out of the man’s hands, then went on to Katherine. ‘Our uncle has been good enough to say I may stay here. I hope that is in order from your point of view?’
‘Of course,’ Katherine said reassuringly. ‘Your room’s all ready for you.’
‘Thank you,’ he said again. ‘Then if I may I’ll take these grips up and get them out of the way.
‘It’s the blue room, uncle,’ Katherine directed. ‘Will you show Cousin Mant the way?’
As the two men went upstairs there had already arisen in Katherine’s mind a faint feeling of disappointment. Mant was no doubt ‘all right’; he seemed quiet and competent, and was probably quite decent. But somehow she didn’t take to him. He hadn’t looked her straight in the face for one thing, and for another there was a quality in the looks he had given her which she instinctively disliked.
But for the moment Katherine had no time to assess her impressions. Household affairs demanded her attention. William had decided that it would be courteous to Mant to have a sort of family reunion at his first meal, and Jim therefore had been asked to lunch, as well as Eva Dugdale and her husband Luke. Eva, as has been said, was Jim’s sister, and Luke was accountant and cashier of the St Elmo firm. That meant a meal for six instead of their usual two: an affair requiring thought and much personal supervision. By the time Katherine had satisfied herself that all was well she heard the others’ ring at the door.
‘Well?’ said Jim in his sharp staccato way when she went out. ‘New boss arrived? What’s he like?’
‘He’ll hear you,’ Katherine smiled, though she was sorry for the bitterness in Jim’s tone. ‘He’s in the room just above.’
‘Then he has come. What’s he like?’
Jim was a complete contrast to the other men of the Carrington family; in fact both in temperament and appearance he was a Musgrave, not a Carrington. Of medium height, fair, and wearing a small reddish moustache, he looked out on the world through grey heavy-lidded eyes, as if he saw in it something whimsical and rather humorous, if not altogether freakish. His attitude was detached. He seemed to be sitting back and watching, in the kindliest way, his fellow creatures as they laboured and strove for futilities.
And yet Jim was neither superior nor a fool. In his own way he was extremely able. Quite as ingenious as William, he had yet less to show for his powers, as they were usually applied incidentally rather than to practical improvements in the business. And he was capable of carrying through difficult jobs also, against opposition if necessary. But the essential for such success was interest. He had to be interested in what he was doing or his work became second-rate. And his trouble was that he was not interested in the works. He was musical. He conducted an orchestral society in Birmingham, and right well he did it. His technique was first class, and his tact in dealing with inferior players of social standing was admirable. Also he was one of the best bridge players in the district.
Eva was a young woman of both charm and good looks. Why the beautiful Miss Musgrave had chosen to marry a comparative nonentity like Luke Dugdale, none of her friends could imagine. But she had married him and she never appeared to regret it. She made him an excellent wife. While not intellectual, she was thoroughly competent, as well as genuinely unselfish and kind. She had a large circle of acquaintances in the district, where indeed she was a general favourite.
Her husband, Luke, was of the type known as heavy. Heavy in appearance, with his large features and bulldog expression, heavy in society, with his pompous manner and platitudinous conversation. But he was a shrewd man of business, and the prosperity of the St Elmo firm was not a little due to his financial acumen.
‘Well?’ Jim went on as Katherine ushered them into the sitting room. ‘Haven’t answered my question. What’s the great man like?’
‘Jim, you mustn’t talk of him like that. He’s simply your cousin,’ broke in Eva.
‘Very much your cousin,’ Katherine declared. ‘He’s just grandfather over again. He’s the image of that portrait over the dining-room chimney-piece, only with lighter colouring.
‘Lord!’ Jim exclaimed. ‘Abominable type! Another Uncle William, eh? Only worse?’
‘Don’t mind him, Katherine,’ Eva begged. ‘He’s in one of his bad twists today. Got out of the wrong side of his bed this morning, I’m sure.’
‘Well? Is he not?’ from Jim.
‘You’ll see for yourself in a moment. There they are coming down.’
Steps on the stairs preceded the entry of the two men. Once again Mant waited for no introduction. ‘Ah,’ he said, holding out his hand to Jim, who was just by the door, ‘you’re Jim. Very pleased to meet you, I’m sure. And this is Cousin Eva?’ He crossed the room. ‘How are you, Cousin Eva? And your husband? Very pleased to meet you, too. It’s a pleasure to be met in so friendly a way on one’s first visit home.’
‘You still call this country home?’ said Eva, shaking hands.
‘I guess we have that habit, though whether it’s justified, I don’t know.’
‘Not justified. No. Not at all,’ declared Jim with a slight sharpness in his tones. ‘Country a man has lived in is his home.’
‘How are you?’ Luke broke in impressively, shaking hands in his turn. ‘I can see that you’re a Carrington, wherever your home is.’
‘Find my contention justified,’ Jim went on, ‘when Australia starts a slogan, “Australia for the Australians”.’
Mant looked at him slowly, as if he were summing up the pros and cons of the question. ‘You may be right,’ he presently admitted. ‘It’s a matter I’ve not fully considered.’
‘You came by air?’ Katherine said hurriedly, feeling that the conversation was not developing as it should.
‘Part of the way by air, yes, I did. But I came across France by rail. I wanted to see some people on the way through.’
They discussed the safe subject of air travel until presently lunch was announced.
Before the meal was over Katherine’s first impression was definitely confirmed: she did not like Cousin Mant. It was not that there was anything tangible against him on which she could lay hold. He was polite and he was obviously trying to please. But there was something about him which jarred upon her susceptibilities. And she could see that he was having the same effect on the others. Jim indeed took very little trouble to hide it. Katherine became annoyed with Jim. Why couldn’t he have a little more sense? For his own sake it was most unwise to antagonise, quite gratuitously, the man who was going to be his boss. And that Mant noticed Jim’s manner, Katherine had no doubt. He showed no consciousness of it, but Katherine already believed that there was little which happened that he missed. Luke also was not at his best and was distinctly patronising. Even William appeared slightly disappointed to Katherine, who knew him so well, though she didn’t think Mant had noticed that. Eva was the most at ease of them all. Though Mant allowed his vaguely unpleasant glance to rest on her more frequently and for longer periods than there was apparent need, she chatted on lightly and Katherine felt that most of the success of the lunch was due to her.
