Home > Authors Index > Elinor Glyn > Reflections of Ambrosine: A Novel > This page
The Reflections of Ambrosine: A Novel, a novel by Elinor Glyn |
||
Book 2 - Chapter 5 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ BOOK II CHAPTER V The days are flying by. October has almost come, and the damp and the falling leaves. It will soon be time for Mrs. Gurrage to depart for Bournemouth. Augustus is in a continual ferment, as the report that the rest of the Tilchester Yeomanry are going to volunteer for active service has cropped up frequently, and, while he likes the uniform and what he considers the prestige of belonging to such a corps, he has no ardor for using his weapons against the Boers. I have tried very hard to take an interest in the matter, but the numbness has returned. The oppression of the surroundings at Ledstone cramps my spirit. We have had several "parties"--batches of Gurrage relations--one or two really awful people. And some days ago I was bidden to write and invite the guests for the first big partridge drive. "The mater will be gone to Bournemouth," Augustus said, "and you'll have to stand on your own legs." Matrimony has not cured him of his habit of using horrid phrases. He has often been very rude to me lately, and has taken to going more frequently to town for the day, and stays away for a night or two sometimes. These seem to me as holidays, and I have never thought of asking him where he has been, although he comes back with an apologetic air of a guilty school-boy which ought to excite my jealousy, I feel sure. During these absences his mother looks uneasy and has once or twice asked me if I know where he is. My books have come--quantities of books!--and I spend hours in my boudoir, never lifting my eyes from the pages to be distracted by the glaring, mustard-brocade walls around me. Mrs. Gurrage treats me with respect. There is a gradual but complete change in her manner to me, from what cause I do not know. I am invariably polite to her and consider all her wishes, and she often tells me she is very proud of me; but all trace of the familiarity she exercised towards me in the beginning has disappeared. I am sorry for her, as she is deeply anxious, also, about this question of the Yeomanry going to the war. Augustus is still her idol. Perhaps I am wicked to be so indifferent to them all. Perhaps it is not enough just to submit and to have gentle manners. I ought to display interest; but I cannot--oh, I cannot. It is the very small things that jar upon me--their sordid views upon no matter what question--the importance they attach to trifles. Sometimes in the afternoons, after tea, Amelia reads the _Family Herald_ to Mrs. Gurrage. "A comfort it was to me in my young days, my dear," she often tells me. The delinquencies of the house-maids are discussed at dinner, the smallest piece of gossip in Tilchester society. I cannot, try as I will, remember the people's different names, or whom Miss Jones is engaged to, or whom Miss Brown. Quantities of these people come out to tea, and those afternoons are difficult to bear. I feel very tired when evening comes, after having had to sit there and hear them talk. Their very phraseology is as of a different world. Augustus has not been drunk since the night at Harley, but often I think his eyes look as if he had had too much to drink, and it is on these occasions he is rude to me. I believe in his heart he is very fond of me still, but his habit of bullying and blustering often conceals it. He continually accuses me of being a cold statue, and regrets that he has married a lump of ice. And when I ask him in what way I could please him better, he says I must love him. "I told you before we were married that I never should, but I would be civil to you," I said to him at last, exasperated beyond all endurance. "You agreed to the bargain, and I do my best to keep it. I never disobey you or cross you in a single thing. What have you to complain of?" "Everything!" he said, in a fury, thumping the table so hard that a little Dresden-china figure fell down and broke into pieces on the parquet floor. "Everything! Your great eyes are always sad. You never take the least interest in anything about any of us. You are docile--yes; and obedient--yes; and when I hold you in my arms I might be holding a stuffed doll for all the response you make. And when I kiss you, you shudder!" He walked up and down the room excitedly. "Oh, we have all noticed it!" he continued. "You are polite, and quiet, and--and--damned cold! Does Amelia ever let herself go before you? Never! The mater herself feels it. You are as different to any of us as if you came from Mars!" "But you knew that always. You used to tell me that was what you liked about me," I said, wearily. "I cannot change my nature any more than--than Amelia can hers." "Why not, pray?" "Have you never thought," I said, driven at last to defend myself, "that there may be a side in the question for me also? I feel it as badly as you do--your all being different to me." He stopped in his angry walk and looked at me. This idea was one of complete newness to him. "Well, you'd better get out of it and change, for we sha'n't," he said, at last. "You owe everything to me. You would have been in the gutter now if I had not had the generosity to marry you." I did not answer, but I suppose my eyes spoke, for he came close up to me and shook his fist in my face. "I'll break that proud spirit of yours--see if I don't!" he roared--"daring to look at me like that! What good are you to me, I should like to know? You do not have a child, and, of all things, I want an heir!" A low growl came from the hearth-rug, where Roy had been lying, and the dear dog rose and came to my side. I was afraid he would fly at Augustus, shaking his fist as if he was going to strike me. I put my hand on Roy's soft, black head and held his collar. In a moment Augustus turned round and rushed to the door. "I'll have that dog poisoned," he said, as he fled from the room. I took up a volume of La Rochefoucauld, which was lying on the table near--grandmamma's copy--and I chanced to open it at this maxim: "_On n'est jamais si heureux ni si malheureux qu'on s'imagine._" About happiness I do not know, but for the rest--well, I must tell myself that to feel miserable is only foolish imagination, when I have a fire, and food, and a diamond necklace, and three yards of pearls, and a carriage with prune-and-scarlet servants, and a boudoir with mustard-silk walls, and--and numbers of other things. Roy put his nose into my hand. "Why did we not go on the long journey with grandmamma?" I said to him. And then I remembered that it is ridiculous to be morbid and dramatic, and so I rang for my maid--a dour Scotchwoman whom I like--and told her to bring my out-door things here to the boudoir-fire. And soon Roy and I were a mile from the house. Lady Tilchester has been in Scotland almost ever since we spent our four days at Harley. When she comes back I shall ask her if she will come over here. She may help me to awake. I am sure if any one could read what I have written, they would say that poor Augustus had a great deal to put up with in having a wife like me. Probably, from his point of view, I am thoroughly tiresome and irritating. I do not exonerate myself. * * * * * After a brisk walk I felt better, and by lunch-time was able to come back to the house and behave as usual. Augustus, I found, had gone to London. Mrs. Gurrage was uneasy. She dropped her h's once or twice, a sure sign, with her, of perturbation and excitement. When the servants had left the room she said to Amelia: "Quite time you were off with that basket for Mary Higginson." And Amelia took the hint meekly and got up from her seat, leaving a pear unfinished. "Shut the door now, and don't stand loitering there!" my mother-in-law further commanded. Amelia is a poor relation, and has often to put up with unfinished manners. "Look here, my dear," Mrs. Gurrage said, when she felt sure we were alone, "I don't like it--and that's flat!" "What do you not like?" I said, respectfully. "Gussie's goings-on! If you tried to coax him more he would not be forever rushin' up to London to see that viscountess of his. I wonder you don't show no spark of jealousy. Law! I'd have scratched her eyes out had she interfered between me and Mr. Gurrage as she is doing between you two, even if she was a duchess!" "I do not understand," I said. "Well, you must have your eyes glued shut," Mrs. Gurrage continued, emphatically. "That Lady Grenellen, I mean. A nice viscountess she is, lookin' after other people's husbands! Why, you can't never have even glanced at the letters Gussie's got from her!" "Oh, but _of course_ not!" "Well, I have. My suspicions began to be aroused directly after you got back from Harley. I caught sight of a coronet on the envelope" (Mrs. Gurrage pronounces it "envellup"), "and I said to myself, there's something queer in that, Gussie never sayin' a word--he as would be so proud of a letter with a crown on it." "Yes," I said. I felt sorry for her, she was so agitated. All the veneer knowledge of grammar had left her, and she spoke with a broad, natural accent. "The next one that came--and never a word from him made me sure--so, I thought to myself, I'll make certain, and I opened the bag myself with my key for a few mornings--I came down early before him on purpose--and soon I sees another gold crown and great, sprawly writin'. The kettle was singing. It took me no time to get the gum unstuck, and--well there! My dear, you never did! I blush to think of it. The hussy! She was thankin' him for a diamond bracelet. Now I know my son Gussie well enough to know he did not give her that bracelet for nothing. Then she said as how he might come on Tuesday to see her, as she would be passin' through London and would be at her town-house for the day." "But please don't tell me--it--oh, one ought never to read other people's letters!" I exclaimed. Mrs. Gurrage flushed scarlet. "There! That's just you--your high and mighty sentiments! And why, pray, shouldn't a mother watch over her son, even if his wife has not the spirit to?" I did not answer. "There! It's been so from the first. I thought you'd have been proud and glad to marry my Gussie--you, as poor as a rat! I don't set no store by our wealth--the Lord's doin', and Mr. Gurrage takin' advantage of the opportunities, his partener dyin' youngish--but I liked the idea of your bein' high-born, and I was frightened about Gussie's lookin' at that girl at the Ledstone Arms. And you seemed good and quiet and well-brought-up. And Gussie just doted on you. You ought to have jumped at him, but you and your grandma were that proud! All the time you were engaged you were as haughty as if you were honorin' _him_, instead of his honorin' you! Since you've been my daughter-in-law, I have no cause to complain of you, only it's the feelin', and your settin' quiet and far away, when a flesh-and-blood woman would have clawed that viscountess's hair! Gussie'd never have been after her if you'd show'd a little more affection. You're not a bad-lookin' woman yourself if you wasn't so white." "Do let us understand each other," I said. "I told your son from the first that I did not care for him. My grandmother was old and dying. We had no relations to depend upon. I should have been left, as Augustus was unchivalrous enough to tell me this morning, 'in the gutter.' These reasons seemed strong enough to my grandmother to make her deem it expedient that I should marry some one. There was no time to choose--I had never dreamed in my life of disobeying her. She told me to marry Augustus. This situation was fully explained to him, and he understood and kept us to the bargain. I have endeavored in every way to fulfil my side, but in it I never contemplated a supervision of his letters." "Oh, indeed! And why couldn't you love him, pray? A finer young man doesn't live for miles round," Mrs. Gurrage said, with great offence. The other questions seemed in abeyance for the moment. "We cannot force our likes and dislikes," I said. "Well, you are married now, and part and parcel of him, and a wife's duty is to keep her own husband from hussies--viscountesses or no they can call themselves." "What do you wish me to do?" "Why, tax him with it when he comes home to-night. Let him see you know and won't stand it. It's all your fault for not lovin' him, and your duty now's to keep him in the path of virtue." "May I say you informed me of his behavior? Because how otherwise could I account for my knowledge? He would know I should never have thought of opening or looking at his letters myself." Mrs. Gurrage was not the least ashamed of having done this, to me, most dishonorable thing. She could not see the matter from my point of view. I remember grandmamma once told me that servants and people of the lower classes always think it is their right to read any one's letters they come across, so I suppose my mother-in-law cannot help her standard of honor being different to ours. "You mustn't make mischief between my boy and me," she said. "You must invent something--think of some other way." "But I cannot tell a lie about it. I shall say you have received disquieting information; I will not say how. Otherwise, I will not speak to him at all about it." Mrs. Gurrage burst into tears. "There--it's breakin' my heart!" she sobbed, "and you don't care a brass farthing!" "Of course I care," I said, feebly. * * * * * Oh, grandmamma! For once you must have been wrong, and it would have been better for me to have worked in the gutter! I wonder if you felt that at the end. But we had given our word. Augustus held us to it, and no Calincourt had ever broken his word. By the afternoon post came a letter from Sir Antony Thornhirst. He had returned from Scotland, he said, and hoped we would soon pay him our promised visit. It was a short note, dry and to the point, with nothing in it unnecessary in the way of words. I do not know why I read it over several times. His writing gave me comfort. I felt as if there was some one human who would understand things. * * * * * When I was dressing for dinner, Augustus returned. He shuffled into the room without knocking, while McGreggor was brushing my hair. He seemed to have forgotten the scene of the morning, and was in a most amiable mood. He had brought me a new muff chain, in wonderfully good taste; he could never have chosen it himself. It is so difficult to thank people for things when you would like to throw them in the fire rather than receive them. However, I did my best. McGreggor felt it her duty to leave the room. Would this be a good opportunity to get over what I had promised my mother-in-law to say to Augustus? Oh, it was an ugly moment. I told him, as simply as I could, that his mother was worried about him, fearing he had contracted a dangerous friendship with Lady Grenellen, and that I hoped he would make her mind at ease upon the subject. He came over to me and seized my wrists. There was an air of conscious pride in his face. He was not displeased that this gallantry could be attributed to him. "It's all your fault if I do look at any one else," he blustered; "and, anyway, a man of the world must have a little amusement, with such a dull, stuck-up wife at home as I have got. Cordelia is a darned sight higher rank than you are, and yet she does not give herself your mighty airs." "Oh, do not think it matters to me," I said, as calmly as I could, "only it worries your mother, who spoke to me about it." "If I thought you cared it would be different," Augustus said, delighted to grasp at this excuse. "No, it would be just the same, only in that case it would grieve me, and I should suffer, whereas now--" I left the sentence unfinished, I do not know why. "Now you don't care what I do or whether I am dead or alive--that is what you mean, I see," he said, dropping my wrists and walking towards the door. "Augustus!" I called to him, and he came back. "Listen. You swore at me this morning. You were very rude to me, and you spend the day in London with another woman, and return bringing me a present. I have done my best not to resent these insults, but I warn you I will not stand any more." He became cringing. "Who's been telling the mater these stories about me?" he asked. "There's not a word of truth in them. It is a queer thing if a man may not speak to a woman without people making mischief about it!" "That is between you and your mother. All I would like to know is that you will not swear at me in future and will treat me with more civility." I felt I could not continue the subject of his "friendship" with Lady Grenellen. The whole matter seemed so low. "Well, you are a brick, after all, not to kick up a row," Augustus said. "So let us kiss and be friends again, and I am sorry if I was nasty this morning. There! little woman, you need not be jealous," and he patted my hand, and then began twisting the long waves of my hair in and out of his thick fingers. "What is a fellow to do when a woman falls in love with him?" he continued, with self-conscious complacency. "He can't be a bear to her, even though he is married, eh?" "No, it is only to his wife he can be the bear," I said. Of course, I ought to have been very jealous and angry, I am sure, but I could not feel the least emotion. I only longed to wrench my hair out of his hands, and to tell him that he might speak to and make love to whom he pleased so long as he left me alone and in peace. He then became more affectionate, telling me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and that I had "stunning hair" and various other charms, and if only I would not be a lump of ice he would never leave me! I could not say, as I felt, "But that is the one thing I should like you to do," so I said nothing, and, as soon as I could get near the bell unperceived, rang for McGreggor again, and put an end to the scene. _ |
||