 Indian summer of a foresight. Part 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Eva Harnick. The foresight saga. Volume 2. Inch Ansari. Part 4. Indian summer of a foresight. He walked at half past two. An hour which long experience had taught him brings panic intensity to all awkward thoughts. Experience had also taught him that a further waking at the proper hour of eight showed the folly of such panic. On this particular morning, the thought which gathered rapid momentum was that if he became ill, at his age not improbable, he would not see her. From this it was but a step to realization that he would be cut off too when his son and June returned from Spain. How could he justify desire for the company of one who had stolen, early morning does not mean words, June's lover? That lover was dead, but June was a stubborn little thing, warm-hearted, but stubborn as would, and quite true, not one who forgot. By the middle of next months they would be back. He had barely five weeks left to enjoy the new interest which had come into what remained of his life. Darkness showed up to him absurdly clear the nature of his feeling. Admiration for beauty, a craving to see that which delighted his eyes. Preposterous at his age, and yet what other reason was there for asking June to undergo such painful reminder and how prevent his son and his son's wife from sinking him very queer? He would be reduced to sneaking up to London, which taught him, and the least in this position would cut him off even from that. He lay, with his eyes open, setting his jaw against the prospect, and calling himself an old fool, while his heart beat loudly, and then seemed to stop beating altogether. He had seen the dawn lighting, the windowchings, heard the birds chirp and twitter, and the cocks crow before he fell asleep again, and awoke tired but sane, five weeks before he need butter at his age and eternity. But that early morning panic had left its mark, had slightly fevered the will of one who had always had his own way. He would see her as often as he wished. Why not go up to town and make that codicelle at his solicitors instead of writing about it? She might like to go to the opera, but by train, for he would not have that fat chap beacon greening behind his back. Servants were such fools, and as likely as not, they had known all the past history of Irene and young Bosnay. Servants knew everything, and suspected the rest. He wrote to her that morning, My dear Irene, I have to be up in town tomorrow. If you would like to have a look in at the opera, come and dine with me quietly. But where? It was decades since he had dined anywhere in London, save at his club or at a private house. That new fangled place close to Covent Garden. Let me have a line tomorrow morning to the Piedmont Hotel, whether to expect you there at seven o'clock. Yours affectionately, Jolion Forsythe. She would understand that he just wanted to give her a little pleasure, for the idea that she should guess that he had this itch to see her was instinctively unpleasant to him. It was not seemly that one so old should go out of his way to see beauty, especially in a woman. The journey next day short though it was, and the visit to his lawyers tired him. It was hot too, and after dressing for dinner, he laid down on the sofa in his bedroom to rest a little. He must have had a sort of fainting fit, for he came to himself feeling very queer, and with some difficulty rose and rang the bell. Why? It was past seven. And there he was, and she would be waiting. But suddenly the dizziness came on again, and he was obliged to relapse on the sofa. He heard the maid's voice say, did you ring sir? Yes, come here. He could not see her clearly for the cloud in front of his eyes. I am not well. I want some sal volatil. Yes, sir. Her voice sounded frightened. Old Julian made an effort. Don't go. Take this message to my niece, a lady waiting in the hall, a lady in grey. Say Mr. Forsythe is not well. The heat. He's very sorry if he's not down directly. She's not to wait dinner. When she was gone he saw it feebly. Why did I say a lady in grey? She may be in anything. Sal volatil. He did not go off again, yet was not conscious of how Irene came to be standing beside him, holding smelling salts to his nose, and pushing a pillow up behind his head. He heard her say anxiously. Dear Uncle Julian, what is it? Was dimly conscious of the soft pressure of her lips on his hand, then drew a long press of smelling salts, suddenly discovered strengths in them, and sneezed. Ha! he said. It is nothing. How did you get here? Go down and dine. The tickets are on the dressing table. I shall be all right in a minute. He felt her cool hand on his forehead, smelled violets, and said divided between a sort of pleasure and a determination to be all right. Why you are in grey, he said. Help me up. Once on his feet he gave himself a shake. What business had I to go off like that? And he moved very slowly to the glass. What a cadaverous chap. Her voice behind him murmured. You mustn't come down, Uncle. You must rest. Fiddlesticks, a glass of champagne will soon set me right. I can't have you missing the opera. But the journey down the corridor was troublesome. What carpets they had in these newfangled places, so sick that you tripped up in them at every step. In the lift he noticed how concerned she looked, and said with the ghost of her twinkle, I am a pretty host. When the lift stopped he had to hold firmly to the seat to prevent its slipping under him. But after soup and a glass of champagne he felt much better and began to enjoy an infirmity which had brought such solicitude into her manner towards him. I should have liked you for a daughter, he said suddenly, and watching the smile in her eyes went on. You mustn't get wrapped up in the past at your time of life. Plenty of that when you get to my age. That is a night's stress. I like the style. I made it myself. Oh, a woman who could make herself a pretty folk had not lost her interest in life. Make hay while the sun shines, he said, and drink that up. I want to see some color in your cheeks. We must not waste life. It does not do. There's a new margarite tonight. Let us hope she won't be fat. And Mephisto, anything more dreadful than a fat chap playing the devil, I can't imagine. But they did not go to the opera after all. For in getting up from dinner the dizziness came over him again, and she insisted on his staying quiet and going to bed early. When he parted from her at the door of the hotel, having paid the cab man to drive her to Chelsea, he sat down again for a moment to enjoy the memory of her words. You are such a darling to me, Uncle Julian. Why? Who wouldn't be? He would have liked to stay up another day and take her to the zoo, but two days running of him would bore her to death. No. He must wait till next Sunday. She had promised to come then. They would settle those lessons for Holly, if only for a month. It would be something. That little mumsel booze wouldn't like it, but she would have to lump it. And crushing his old opera hat against his chest, he sought to live. He drove to Waterloo next morning, struggling with a desire to say, drive me to Chelsea. But his sense of proportion was too strong. Besides, he still felt shaky, and did not want to risk another aberration like that of last night away from home. Holly too was expecting him and what he had in his bag for her. Not that there was any cupboard love in his little suite. She was a bundle of affection. Then, with the rather bitter cynicism of the old, he wondered for a second whether it was not cupboard love which made Irene put up with him. No. She was not that sort either. She had, if anything, too little notion of how to butter her bread. No sense of property, poor thing. Besides, he had not prized a word about that codicelle, nor should he. Sufficient unto the day was the good thereof. In the Victoria which met him at the station, Holly was restraining the dog Baltazar, and their caresses made Juby his drive home. All the rest of that fine hot day, and most of the next, he was content and peaceful, reposing in the shade while the long, lingering sunshine shard gold on the lawns and the flowers. But on Thursday evening, at his lonely dinner, he began to count the hours, sixty-five, till he would go down to meet her again in the little copies, and walk up through the fields at her side. He had intended to consult the doctor about his fainting fit, but the fellow would be sure to insist on quiet, no excitement and all that, and he did not mean to be tied by the leg, did not want to be told of an infirmity, if there were one could not afford to hear of it at his time of life, now that this new interest had come. And he carefully avoided making any mention of it in a letter to his son. It would only bring them back with a run. How far this silence was due to consideration for their pleasure, how far to regard for his own, he did not pause to consider. That night in his study he had just finished his cigar and was dozing off when he heard the rustle of a gown and was conscious of a scent of violets, opening his eyes he saw her dressed in gray, standing by the fireplace, holding out her arms. The odd thing was that though those arms seemed to hold nothing, they were curved as if round someone's neck, and her own neck was bent back, her lips open, her eyes closed. She vanished at once, and there were the mantelpiece and his bronzes, but those bronzes and the mantelpiece had not been there when she was, only the fireplace and the wall. Shaken and troubled he got up. I must take medicine, he sought. I can't be well. His heart beat too fast. He had an asthmatic feeling in the chest, and going to the window he opened it to get some air. A dog was barking far away, one of the dogs, at Gage's farm, no doubt, beyond the copies. A beautiful still night, but dark. I dropped off, he mused. That is it. And yet I will swear my eyes were open. A sound like a sigh seemed to answer. What is that he said sharply? Who is there? Putting his hand to his side to still the beating of his heart, he stepped out on the terrace. Something soft scurried by in the dark. Shoo, it was that great, great cat. Young Bosny was like a great cat, he sought. It was him and dad, that she, that she was. He's got her still. He walked to the edge of the terrace and looked down into the darkness. He could just see the powdering of the daisies on the unmoan lawn. Here today and gone tomorrow. And there came the moon who saw all young and old, alive and dead, and didn't care a dump. His own turned soon. For a single day of use he would give what was left. And he turned again towards the house. He could see the windows of the night nursery up there. His little sweet would be asleep. Hope that dog won't wake her, he sought. What is it makes us love and makes us die? I must go to bed. And across the terrace stones, growing gray in the moonlight, he passed back within. How should an old man live his days, if not in dreaming of his well-spent past? In that, at all events, there is no agitating warmth, only pale winter sunshine. The shirk and withstand the gentle beating of the dynamoes of memory. The present he should distrust, the future shun. From beneath, thick shade, he should watch the sunlight creeping at his toes. If there be sun of summer, let him not go out into it, mistaking it for the Indian summer sun. Thus, but adventure, he shall decline softly, slowly, imperceptibly, until impatient nature clutches his windpipe and he gasps away to death some early morning before the world is aired and they put on his tombstone in the fullness of years. Yeah, if he preserves his principles in perfect order, a foresight may live on long after he is dead. Old Julian was conscious of all this, and yet there was in him that which transcended foresightism. For it is written that a foresight shall not love beauty more than reason, nor his own way more than his own house. And something beat within him in these days that with each stroke threaded at the sinning shell. His sagacity knew this, but it knew too that he could not stop that beating nor would if he could. And yet, if you had told him he was living on his capital, he would have stared you down. No, no, a man did not live on his capital. It was not done. The civilates of the past are ever more real than the actualities of the present, and he, to whom living on one's capital had always been anathena, could not have borne to have applied so gross a phrase to his own case. Pleasure is healthful, beauty good to see, to live again in the use of the young, and what else on earth was he doing? Methodically, as had been the way of his whole life, he now arranged his time. On Tuesdays he journeyed up to town by train. Irene came and dined with him, and they went to the opera. On Thursdays he drove to town and, putting that fat chap and his horses up, met her in Kensington Gardens, picking up the carriage after he had left her and driving home again in time for dinner. He threw out the casual formula that he had business in London on those two days. On Wednesdays and Saturdays she came down to give Holly music lessons. The great at the pleasure he took in her society, the most grouplessly fastidious he became, just a matter of fact and friendly uncle, not even in feeling really, was he more, for after all there was his age. And yet, if she were late, he fidgeted himself to death. If she missed coming, which happened twice, his eyes grew sad as an old dog's, and he failed to sleep. And so, a month's went by, a month's of summer in the fields, and in his heart, this summer's heat and the fatigue thereof. Who could have believed a few weeks back that he would have looked forward to his sons and his granddaughters return with something like dread? There was such a delicious freedom, such recovery of that independence a man enjoys before he founds a family about these weeks of lovely weather and this new companionship with one who demanded nothing and remained always a little unknown, retaining the fascination of mystery. It was like a draught of wine to him who has been drinking water for so long that he has almost forgotten the stirred wine brings to his blood the narcotic to his brain. The flowers were colored brighter, sense and music and the sunlight had a living value, were no longer mere reminders of past enjoyment. There was something now to live for which stirred him continually to anticipation. He lived in that, not in retrospection. The difference is considerable to any so old as he. The pleasures of the table never of much consequence to one naturally, have lost all value. He ate little without knowing what he ate and every day grew sinner and more worn to look at. He was again a thread paper and to this sinned form his massive forehead with hollows at the temples gave more dignity than ever. He was very well aware that he ought to see the doctor but liberty was too sweet. He could not afford to pet his frequent shortness of breath and the pain in his side at the expense of liberty. According to the vegetable existence he had led among the agricultural journals with the life-size mangled verses before this new attraction came into his life. No, he exceeded his allowance of cigars. To a day had always been his rule. Now he smoked three and sometimes four a man will when he is filled with the creative spirit. He often he sought. I must give up smoking and coffee. I must give up rattling up to town. But he did not. There was no one in any sort of authority to notice him and this was a priceless boon. The servants perhaps wondered but they were naturally dumb. Mamsel Booth was too concerned with her own digestion and too well-bred to make personal illusions. Holly had not as yet an eye for the relative appearance of him who was her placing and her guard. It was left for Irene herself to beg him to eat more to rest in the hot part of the day to take a tonic and so forth. But she did not tell him that she was the cause of his thinness for one cannot see the havoc one self is working. A man of 85 has no passions but the beauty which produces passions works on in the old way till death closes the eyes which crave the sight of her. On the first day of the second week in July he received a letter from his son in Paris to say that they would all be back on Friday. This had always been more short than fate. But with the pathetic improvidence given to the old that they may endure to the end he had never quite admitted it. Now he did and something would have to be done. He had ceased to be able to imagine life without this new interest but that which is not imagined sometimes exists as foresight's are perpetually finding to their cost. He set in his old leather chair doubling up the letter and mumbling with his lips the end of an unlit cigar. After tomorrow his choose the expeditions to town would have to be abandoned. He could still drive up perhaps once a week on the pretext of seeing his man of business. But even that would be dependent on his health for now they would begin to fuss about him. The lessons the lessons must go on. She must swallow down her scruples and June must put her feelings in her pocket. She had done so once on the day after the news of Bosnys death what she had done then she could surely do again now. Four years since that injury was inflicted on her not Christian to keep the memory of old source alive. June's will was strong but his was stronger for his sands were running out. Irene was soft surely she would do this for him subdue her natural shrinking sooner than give him pain. Lessons must continue for if they did he was secure and lighting his cigar at last he began trying to shape out how to put it to them all and explain this strange intimacy how to wail and wrap it away from the naked truth that he could not bear to be deprived of the sight of beauty. Ah, Holly! Holly was fond of her. Holly liked her lessons. She would save him his little sweet and with that happy thought he became serene and wondered what he had been worrying about so fearfully. He must not worry it left him always curiously weak and as if but half present in his own body. That evening after dinner he had a return of the dizziness though he did not faint. He would not ring the bell because he knew it would mean a fuss and make his going up on the morrow more conspicuous. When one grew old the whole world was in conspiracy to limit freedom and for what reason just to keep the breast in him a little longer he did not want it at such cost. Only the dog Baltazar saw his lonely recovery from that weakness anxiously watch his master go to the sideboard and drink some brandy instead of giving him a biscuit. When at last old Jolion felt able to tackle the stairs he went up to bed and though still shaky next morning the sort of the evening sustained and strengthened him. It was always such a pleasure to give her a good dinner. He suspected her of under-eating when she was alone and that the opera to watch her eyes glow and brighten the unconscious smiling of her lips. She hadn't much pleasure and this was the last time he would be able to give her that treat. But when he was packing his bag he caught himself wishing that he had not the fatigue of dressing for dinner before him and the exertion too of telling her about June's return. The opera that evening was common and he chose the last onto act to break the news instinctively putting it off till the latest moment. She took it quietly clearly in fact. He did not know how she had taken it before the wavered music lifted up again and the silence became necessary. The mask was down over her face that mask behind which so much went on that he could not see. She wanted time to sink it over no doubt. He would not press her for she would be coming to give her lesson tomorrow afternoon and he should see her then when she had got used to the idea. In the cab he talked only of the common. He had seen better in the old days but this one was not bad at all. When he took her hand to say good night she bent quickly forward and kissed his forehead. Goodbye dear Uncle Julian you have been so sweet to me. Tomorrow then he said good night sleep well. She echoed softly sleep well and from the cab window already moving away he saw her face screwed round towards him and her hand put out in a gesture which seemed to linger. He sought his room slowly. They never gave him the same and he could not get used to these pick and span the bedrooms with new furniture and gray green carpet sprinkled all over with pink roses. He was wakeful and that wretched Habanera kept throbbing in his head. His French had never been equal to its words but its sense he knew if it had any sense a gypsy sing, wild and unaccountable. Well there was in life something which upset all your care and plans something which made men go against to its pipes. And he lay staring from deep sunk eyes into the darkness where the unaccountable health sway. You thought you had hold of life but it slipped away behind you took you by the scruff of the neck forced you here and forced you there and then likely as not squeezed life out of you. It took the very stars like that he shouldn't wonder rubbed their noses together and flung them apart. It had never done playing its pranks. Five million people in this great blunderbuss of a town had all of them at the mercy of that life force like a lot of little dried peas hopping about on a board when you struck your fist on it. Ah well himself would not hop much longer a good long sleep would do him good. How hot it was up here how noisy. His forehead burned she had kissed it just where he always worried just there as if she had known the very place and wanted to kiss it all away for him but instead her lips left a patch of grievous uneasiness. She had never spoken in quite that voice had never before made that lingering gesture or looked back at him as she drove away. He got out of bed and pulled the curtains aside his room faced down over the river there was little air but the sight of that breath of water flowing by calm eternal soothed him. The great sink he sought is not to make myself a nuisance I will think of my little sweet and go to sleep. But it was long before the heat and throbbing of the London night died out in the short slumber of the summer morning and old Jolian had but 40 wings. When he reached home next day he went out to the flower garden and with the help of Holly who was very delicate with flowers gathered a great bunch of carnations they were he told her for the Lady in Grey a name still banded between them and he put them in a bowl in his study where he meant to tackle Irene the moment she came on the subject of June and future lessons. Their fragrance and colour would help after lunch he laid down for he felt very tired and the carriage would not bring her from the station till four o'clock but as the hour approached he grew restless and sought the school room which overlooked the drive the sun blinds were down and Holly was there with Marmel Zellbos sheltered from the heat of the stifling July day attending to their silkworms. Old Jolian had a natural antipathy to these methodical creatures whose heads and colour reminded him of elephants who nibbled such quantities of holes in nice green leaves and smelled as he sought Horrid he sat down on a chins-covered window seat whence he could see the drive and get what air there was and the dog Baltazar who appreciated chins on hot days jumped up beside him. Over the cottage piano a violet dust sheet faded almost to grey and on it the first lavender who sent filled the room in spite of the coolness here perhaps because of that coolness the beat of life vehemently impressed his ebbed down senses each sunbeam which came through the chins had annoying brilliance that dog smelled very strong the lavender perfume was overpowering those silkworms heaving up their grey-green backs seemed horribly alive and Holly's dark head bent over them had a wonderfully silky sheen a marvellous, cruel, strong thing was life when you were old and weak it seemed to mock you with its multitude of forms and its beating vitality he had never till those last few weeks had this curious feeling of being with one half of him eagerly born along in the stream of life and with the other half left on the bank watching that helpless progress only when Irene was with him did he lose this double consciousness Holly turned her head pointed with her little brown fist to the piano for to point with her finger was not well bred and said slightly look at the lady in grey, Grand isn't she pretty today old Jolian's heart gave a flatter and for a second the room was clouded then it cleared and he said with a twinkle who has been dressing her up Mamzel Holly, don't be foolish that prim little French woman she hadn't yet got over the music lessons being taken away from her that would not help his little sweet was the only friend they had well they were her lessons and he shouldn't budge shouldn't budge for anything he stroked the warm wool on Baltazar's head and heard Holly say when mother is home there won't be any changes will there she doesn't like strangers you know the child's word seemed to bring the chilly atmosphere of opposition about old Jolian and disclosed all the menace to his new found freedom ah he would have to resign himself to being an old man at the mercy of care and love or fight to keep his new and priced companionship and to fight tired him to death but his sin-worn face hardened into resolution till it appeared all jaw this was his house and his affair he should not budge he looked at his watch old and sin like himself he had owned it 50 years past four already and kissing the top of Holly's head in passing he went down to the hall he wanted to get hold of her before she went up to give her lesson at the first sound of wheels he stepped out into the porch and saw at once that the Victoria was empty the train is in sa but the lady hasn't come old Jolian gave him a sharp upward look his eyes seemed to push away that fat chap's curiosity and defy him to see the bitter disappointment he was feeling very well he said and turned back into the house he went to his study and sat down quivering like a leaf what did this mean she might have lost her train but he knew well enough she hadn't goodbye dear uncle Jolian why goodbye and not good night and that hand of hers lingering in the air and her kiss what did it mean vehement alarm and irritation took possession of him he got up and began to pace the turkey carpet between window and wall she was going to give him up he felt it for certain and he defenceless an old man wanting to look on beauty it was ridiculous age closed his mouth paralyzed his power to fight he had no right to what was warm and living no right to anything but memories and sorrow he could not plead with her even an old man has his dignity defenceless for an hour lost to bodily fatigue he paced up and down crossed the bowl of carnations he had plucked which mocked him with its scent of all things hard to bear the prostration of willpower is hardest for one who has always had his way nature had got him in its net and like an unhappy fish he turned and swam at the meshes here and there found no hole no breaking point they brought him tea at 5 o'clock and a letter for a moment hope bit up in him he cut the envelope with the butter knife and read dearest uncle Julian I can't bear to write anything that may disappoint you but I was too cowardly to tell you last night I feel I can't come down and give Holly any more lessons now that June is coming back some things go too deep to be forgotten it has been such a joy to see you and Holly perhaps I shall still see you sometimes when you come up though I am sure it is not good for you I can see you are tiring yourself too much I believe you ought to rest quite quietly all this hot weather and now you have your son and June coming back you will be so happy thank you a million times for all your sweetness to me lovingly your Irene so there it was not good for him to have pleasure and what he chiefly cared about to try and put off feeling the inevitable end of all things the approach of death with its delcy rustling footsteps not good for him not even she could see how she was his new lease of interest in life the incarnation of all the beauty he felt slipping from him his tea grew cold his cigar remained unlit and up and down he paced torn between his dignity and his hold on life intolerable to be squeezed out slowly without a say of your own to live on when your will was in the hands of others bent on weighing you to the ground with care and love intolerable he would see what telling her the truth would do the truth that he wanted the sight of her more on he sat down at his old bureau and took a pen but he could not write there was something revolting in having to plead like this plead that she should warm his eyes with her beauty it was tantamount to confessing dotage he simply could not and instead he wrote I had hoped that the memory of old source I would not be allowed to stand in the way of what is a pleasure and a profit to me and my little granddaughter but old man learned to forego their whims they are obliged to even the whim to live must be foregone sooner or later and perhaps the sooner the better my love to you Jolion foresight but I can't help it I am tired he sealed and dropped it into the box for the evening post and hearing it fall to the bottom thought there goes all I have looked forward to that evening after dinner which he scarcely touched after his cigar which he left half smoked for it made him feel faint he went very slowly upstairs and stole into the night nursery he sat down on the window seat a night light was burning and he could just see Holly's face with one hand underneath the cheek an early cook chaffer buzzed in the Japanese paper with which they had filled the grate and one of the horses in the stable stamped restlessly to sleep like that child he pressed apart two rungs of the Venetian blind and looked out the moon was rising blood red he had never seen so red a moon the woods and fields out there were dropping to sleep too in the last glimmer of the summer light and beauty like a spirit walked I have had a long life he sought the best of nearly everything I am an ungrateful chap I have seen a lot of beauty in my time poor young Bosny said I had a sense of beauty there is a man in the moon tonight a moss went by another another ladies in grey he closed his eyes a feeling that he would never open them again beset him he let it grow let himself sink then with a shiver dragged the lids up there was something wrong with him no doubt deeply wrong he would have to have the doctor after all it didn't much matter now into that copies the moonlight would have crept there would be shadows and those shadows would be the only things awake no birds bees flowers insects just the shadows moving ladies in grey over that log they would climb would whisper together she and Bosny funny thought and the frogs and little sinks would whisper too how the clock ticked in here it was all eerie out there in the light of that red moon in here with the little steady light and the ticking clock and the nurses dressing on hanging from the edge of the screen tall like a woman's figure lady in grey and a very old thought beset him did she exist had she ever come at all or was she but the emanation of all the beauty he had loved and must leave so soon the violet grey spirit with the dark eyes and the crown of amber hair who walks the dawn and the moonlight and that blue bell time what was she who was she did she exist he rose and stood a moment clutching the windowsill to give him a sense of reality again then began tiptoeing towards the door he stopped at the foot of the bed conscious of his eyes fixed on her stirred sighed and curled up closer in defence he tiptoed on and passed out into the dark passage reached his room undressed at once and stood before a mirror in his night shirt what a scarecrawl his temples fallen in and thin legs his eyes resisted his own image and the look the light came on his face all was in league to pull him down even his reflection in the glass but he was not down yet he got into bed and lay a long time without sleeping trying to reach resignation only too well aware that fretting and disappointment were very bad for him he woke in the morning so unrefreshed and strengthless that he sent for the doctor after sounding him the fellow pulled the face as long as your arm and ordered him to stay in bed and give up smoking that was no hardship there was nothing to get up for and when he felt ill tobacco always lost its savor he spent the morning languidly with the sun blinds down turning and returning the times not reading much the dog Baltazar lying beside his bed with his lunch they brought him a telegram running thus your letter received coming down this afternoon will be with you at 430 Irene coming down after all then she did exist and he was not deserted coming down aglow runs through his limbs his cheeks and forehead felt hot he drank his soup and pushed the tray table away lying very quiet until they had removed lunch and left him alone but every now and then his eyes twinkled coming down his heart beat fast and then did not seem to beat at all the clock he got up and dressed deliberately noiselessly Holly and Mamsel would be in the school room and the servants asleep after their dinner he shouldn't wonder he opened his door cautiously and went downstairs in the hall the dog Baltazar lay solitary and followed by him all jolly and passed into his study the burning afternoon he meant to go down and meet her in the copies but felt at once he could not manage that in this heat he sat down instead under the oak tree by the swing and the dog Baltazar who also felt the heat lay down beside him he sat there smiling what a revel of bright minutes the sound of insects and cooing of pigeons it was the quintessence of a summer day lovely and he was happy happy as a sand boy whatever that might be she was coming she had not given him up he had everything in life he wanted except a little more breath and less weight but when she emerged from the fernary comes swaying just a little a violet gray figure passing over the daisies and dandelions and soldiers on the lawn the soldiers with their flowery crowns he would not move but she would come up to him and say dear uncle Julian I am sorry and sit in the swing and let him look at her that he had not been very well but was all right now and that dog would lick her hand that dog knew his master was fond of her that dog was a good dog it was quite shady under the tree the sun could not get at him only make the rest of the world bright so that he could see the grandstand at Epsom away out there and the cows cropping the clover in the field and swishing at the flies with their tails he smelled the scent of limes and lavender oh that was why there was such a racket of bees they were excited busy as his heart was busy and excited drowsy too drowsy and drugged on honey and happiness as his heart was drugged drowsy summer summer they seemed saying great bees and little bees and the flies too the stable clock struck four in half an hour she would be here he would have just one tiny nap because he had had so little sleep of late and then he would be fresh for her fresh for use and beauty coming towards him across the sundit lawn lady in grey and settling back in his chair he closed his eyes some thistle down came on what little air there was and pitched on his moustache more white than itself he did not know but his breezing stirred it caught there a ray of sunlight struck through and lodged on his boot a bumblebee alighted and strolled on the crown of his panama head and the delicious surge of slumber reached the brain beneath that hat and the head swayed forward and rested on his breast summer summer so went the hum the stable clock struck the quarter passed the dog Baltazar stretched and looked up at his master the thistle down no longer moved the dog placed his chin over the sundit foot it did not stir the dog withdrew his chin quickly rose and leaped on all Jolian's lap looked in his face wind then leaping down set on his haunches gazing up and suddenly he uttered a long long howl but the thistle down was still as death and the face of his old master summer summer summer the soundless footsteps on the grass 1917 end of part 4 indian summer of a foresight recording by Ava Harnick part 1 chapter 1 of Inchansary this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information autovolunteer please go to LibriVox.org recording by Andy Minter the foresight saga inchansary by John Gaulsworthy part 1 chapter 1 at Timothy's the possessive instinct never stands still through fluorescence and feud frosts and fires it followed the laws of progression even in the foresight family which had believed it fixed forever nor can it be dissociated from environment any more than the quality of the data from the soil the historian of the English 80s and 90s will in his good time depict the somewhat rapid progression from self-contented and contained provincialism to still more self-contented if less contained imperialism in other words the possessive instinct of the nation on the move and so as if in conformity was it with the foresight family they were spreading but within when in 1895 Susan Heyman the married foresight sister followed her husband at the ludicrously low age of 74 and were cremated he made strangely little stir among the six old foresight left for this apathy there were three causes first the almost surreptitious burial of old Jolian in 1892 down at Robin Hill first of the foresight was his at the family grave at Highgate that burial coming a year after Swithin's entirely proper funeral had occasioned a great deal of talk on foresight change the abode of Timothy foresight on the base water road London which still collected and radiated family gossip opinions ranged from the lamentation of Aunt Julie to the outspoken assertion of Francie that it was a jolly good thing to stop all that stuffy Highgate business Uncle Jolian in his later years indeed ever since a strange and lamentable affair between his granddaughter June's lover young Bacini and Irene his nephew Somes foresight's wife had noticeably wrapped the family's knuckles and that way of his own which he had always taken had begun to seem to them a little wayward the philosophic vein in him of course had always been too liable to crop out of the strata of pure foresightism so they were in a way prepared for his interment in a strange spot but the whole thing was an odd business and when the contents of his will became current coin on foresight change a shiver had gone round the clan out of his estate £145,304 gross with liabilities £35,7 shillings and fourpence he had actually left £15,000 to who mirrored you think my dear to Irene that runaway wife of his nephew Somes Irene a woman who had almost disgraced the family and still more amazing was to him no blood relation not out and out of course only a life interest only the income from it still there it was an old Jolian's claim to be the perfect foresight was ended once and for all that then was the first reason why the burial of Susan Heyman at Woking made little stir the second reason was altogether more expansive and imperial besides the house on Camden Hill Susan had a place left her by Heyman when he died just over the border in Hance where the Heyman boys had learnt to be such good shots and riders as it was believed which was of course nice for them and creditable to everybody and the fact of owning something really country-fied seemed somehow to excuse the dispersion of her remains though what could have put cremation into her head they could not think the usual invitations however had been issued and Somes had gone down and young Nicholas and the will had been quite satisfactory so far as it went for she had only a life interest and everything had gone quite smoothly to the children in equal shares the third reason why Susan's burial made little stir was the most expansive of all it was summed up daringly by Euphemia the pale the thin well I think people have a right to their own bodies even when they're dead coming from a daughter of Nicholas a liberal of the old school and most tyrannical it was a startling remark showing in a flash what a lot of water had run under bridges since the death of Aunt Anne in 86 just when the proprietorship of Somes over his wife's body was acquiring the uncertainty which had led to such disaster Euphemia of course spoke like a child and had no experience for though well over 30 by now her name was still foresight but making all allowances her remark did undoubtedly show expansion of the principle of liberty decentralization and shift in the central point of possession from others to oneself when Nicholas heard his daughter's remark from Aunt Hester he wrapped up wives and daughters there's no end to their liberty these days I knew that Jackson case would lead to things lugging in habeas corpus like that he had of course never really forgiven the married woman's property act which would have so interfered with him if he had not mercifully married before it was passed but in truth there was no denying the revolt among the younger foresight against being owned by others that as it were colonial disposition to own oneself which is the paradoxical forerunner of imperialism was making progress all the time they were all now married except George confirmed to the turf and the ICM club Francie pursuing her musical career in a studio off the Kings Road Chelsea and still taking lovers to dances Euphemia living at home and complaining of Nicholas and those two Euphemia's Giles and Jesse Heyman of the third generation there were not very many young Jolyon had three Winifred Darty four young Nicholas six already young Roger had one Marion Tweetyman one but the rest of the sixteen married Soames, Rachel and Sicily of James's family Eustace and Thomas of Rogers Ernest, Archibald and Florence of Nicholas's commander of the Heymans were going down the years unreproduced thus of the ten old foresight's twenty-one young foresight's had been born but of the twenty-one young foresight's there were as yet only seventeen descendants and it already seemed unlikely that there would be more than a further unconsidered trifle or so a student of statistics must have noticed that the birth rate had varied in accordance with the rate grandfather superior Dossett foresight in the early nineteenth century had been getting ten percent for his hence ten children those ten leaving out the four who had not married and Julie whose husband Septimus Small had of course died almost at once had averaged from four to five percent for theirs and produced accordingly the twenty-one whom they produced were now getting barely three percent in the consoles to which their father occupied the settlements they made to avoid death duties and the six of them who had been reproduced had seventeen children or just the proper two and five sixths per stem there were other reasons too for this mild reproduction a distrust of their earning powers natural whereas sufficiency is guaranteed together with the knowledge that their fathers did not die kept them cautious if one had children and not much income taste and comfort must have necessity go down what was enough for two was not enough for four and so on it would be better to wait and see what father did besides it was nice to be able to take holidays unhampered sooner in fact than own children they preferred to concentrate on the ownership of themselves conforming to the growing tendency he found the siege as it was called in this way little risk was run and one would be able to have a motor car indeed Eustace already had one but it had shaken him horribly and broken one of his eye teeth so that it would be better to wait until they were a little safer in the meantime no more children even young Nicholas was drawing in his horns and had made no addition to his six for quite three years the corporate decay however of the foresight their dispersion rather of which all this was symptomatic had not advanced so far as to prevent a rally when Roger foresight died in 1899 it had been a glorious summer and after holidays abroad and at the sea they were practically all back in London when Roger with a touch of his old originality had suddenly breathed his last at his own house in Prince's gardens at Timothy's it was whispered sadly that poor Roger had always been eccentric about his digestion had he not for instance preferred German mutton to all the other brands be that as it may his funeral at Highgate had been perfect and coming away from it Somes foresight made almost mechanically for his uncle Timothy's in the Bayswater Road the old things Aunt Julian Aunt Hester would like to hear about it his father James at 88 had not felt up to the fatigue of the funeral and Timothy himself of course had not gone so that Nicholas had been the only brother present still there had been a fair gathering and it would cheer Aunt Julian Hester up to know the kindly thought was not unmixed with the inevitable longing to get something out of everything you do which is the chief characteristic of foresight and indeed of the saner elements in every nation in this practice of taking family matters to Timothy's in the Bayswater Road Somes was but following in the footsteps of his father who had been in the habit of going at least once a week to see his sisters at Timothy's and had only given it up when he lost his nerve at 86 and could not go out without Emily to go with Emily was of no use for who could really talk to anyone in the presence of his own wife like James in the old days Somes found time to go there nearly every Sunday and sit in the little drawing room into which with his undoubted taste he had introduced a good deal of change and China not quite up to his own fastidious mark and at least two rather doubtful Barbizon pictures at Christmas tides he himself who had done extremely well with the Barbizans had for some years passed moved towards the Marises Israels and Moeve and was hoping to do better in the Riverside House which he now inhabited near Mabel Durham he had a gallery beautifully hung and lighted and open dealers were strangers it served to as a Sunday afternoon attraction in those weekend parties which his sisters Winifred or Rachel occasionally organized for him for though he was but a taciturn showman his quiet collected determinism seldom failed to influence his guests who knew that his reputation was grounded not on mere aesthetic fancy but on his power of gauging future of market values when he went to Timothy's he almost always had some little tale of triumph over a dealer to unfold and dearly he loved that coup of pride with which his aunts would greet it this afternoon however he was differently animated coming from Roger's funeral in his neat dark clothes not quite black for after all an uncle was but an uncle and his soul abhorred excessive display of feeling leaning back in a marquetry chair and gazing down his uplifted nose at the sky blue walls plastered with gold frames he was noticeably silent whether because he had been to a funeral or not the peculiar foresight build of his face was seen to the best advantage this afternoon a face concave and long with the jaw which divested of flesh would have seemed extravagant altogether a chinny face no not at all in looking he was feeling more strongly than ever that Timothy's was hopelessly rumpty too and the souls of his aunts dismally mid-Victorian the subject on which alone he wanted to talk his own undivorced position was unspeakable and yet it occupied his mind to the exclusion of all else it was only since the spring that this had been so and a new feeling grown up which was egging him on towards what he knew might well be folly in a foresight of forty-five and more of late he had been conscious that he was getting on the fortune already considerable when he conceived the house at Robin Hill which had finally wrecked his marriage with Irene had mounted with surprising vigor in the twelve lonely years during which he had devoted himself to little else he was worth today well over a hundred thousand pounds and had no one to leave it to no real object for going on with what was his religion even if he were to relax his efforts money made money and he felt that he would have a hundred and fifty thousand before he knew where he was there had always been a strongly domestic phylo-progenitive side to soams bought and frustrated it had hidden itself away but had now crept out again in this his prime of life concreted and focused of late by the attraction of a girl's undoubted beauty it had become a veritable preposition and this girl was French not likely to lose her head or accept any unlegalised position moreover soams himself disliked the thought of that he had tasted of the sordid side of sex during those long years of forced celibacy secretively and always with disgust for he was fastidious and his sense of law and order innate he wanted no whole and corner liaison a marriage at the Embassy in Paris a few months travel and he could bring Annette back quite separated from her past which in truth was not too distinguished for she only kept the accounts in her mother's so her restaurant he could bring her back as something very new and chic with her French taste and self-possession to reign at the shelter near Maple Durham on foresight change and among his riverside friends it would be current that he had met a charming French girl on his travels and married her there would be the flavour of romance and a certain cashier about a French wife no, he was not at all afraid of that it was only this cursed undivorced condition of his and the question whether Annette would take him which he dared not put to the touch until he had a clear even dazzling future to offer her in his aunt's drawing-room he heard with but muffled ears those usual questions how was his dear father not going out of course now that the weather was turning chilly would Soames be sure to tell him that Hester had found boiled holly-leaves most comforting with that pain in her side a poultice every three hours with red flannel afterwards and could he relish just a little part of their very best prune preserve was so delicious this year and had such a wonderful effect oh, and about the darties had Soames heard that dear Winifred was having a most distressing time with Montague Timothy thought she really ought to have protection it was said that Soames mustn't take this for certain but he had given some of Winifred's jewellery to a dreadful dancer it was such a bad example for dear Val just as he was going to college Soames had not heard oh, but he must go and see his sister and look into it at once and did he think those boars were really going to resist there was quite a stew about it the price of consoles was so high and he had such a lot of money in them did Soames think they must go down if there was a war? Soames nodded but it would be over very quickly it would be so bad for Timothy if it wasn't and of course Soames' dear father would feel it very much at his age luckily poor dear Roger had been spared this dreadful anxiety and Aunt Julie with a little handkerchief wiped away the large tear trying to climb the permanent pout on her now quite withered left cheek she was remembering dear Roger and all his originality and how he used to stick pins into her when they were little together Aunt Hester with her instinct for avoiding the unpleasant here chimed in did Soames think that they would make Mr. Chamberlain Prime Minister at once? he would settle it all so quickly she would like to see that old Kruger sent to St. Helena she could remember so well the news of Napoleon's death and what a relief it had been to his grandfather of course, she and Julie we were in pantolets then my dear had not felt it so much at the time Soames took a cup of tea from her drank it quickly and ate three of those macaroons for which Timothy's was famous his pale, supercilious smile had deepened just a little rarely his family remained hopelessly provincial however much a London they might possess between them in these go-ahead days their provincialism stared out even more than it used to while Nicholas was still a free trader and a member of that anti-deluvian home of liberalism the Remove Club though to be sure the members were pretty well all conservatives now or he himself could not have joined and Timothy they said still wore a nightcap Aunt Julie spoke again Dear Soames was looking so well hardly a day older than he did when dear Anne died and they were all there together dear Jolian and dear Swithin and dear Roger she paused and caught the tear which had climbed the pout on her right cheek did he did he ever hear anything of Irene nowadays? Aunt Hester visibly interposed her shoulder really Julie was always saying something the smile left Soames's face and he put his cup down here was his subject broached for him and for all his desire to expand he could not take advantage Aunt Julie went on rather hastily they say dear Jolian first left her that 15,000 out and out then of course he saw it would not be right and made it for her life only had Soames heard that? Soames nodded your cousin Jolian is a widower now he's her trustee you knew that of course Soames shook his head he did know but wished to show no interest young Jolian and he had not met since the day of Bessini's death he must be quite middle aged by now went on Aunt Julie dreamily let me see he was born when your dear uncle lived in Mount Street long before they went to Stanhope Gate in December just before that dreadful commune over 50th fancied that such a pretty baby and we were all so proud of him the very first of you all Aunt Julie sighed and the lock of not quite her own hair came loose and straggled so that Aunt Hester gave a little shiver Soames rose he was experiencing a curious piece of self-discovery that old wound to his pride and self-esteem was not yet closed he had come thinking he could talk of it to talk of his fetid condition and behold he was shrinking away from this reminder by Aunt Julie renowned for her malopropisms oh Soames was not going already Soames smiled a little vindictively and said yes goodbye, remember me to Uncle Timothy and even a cold kiss on each forehead whose wrinkles seemed to try and cling to his lips as if longing to be kissed away he left them looking brightly after him Dear Soames it had been so good of him to come today when they were not feeling very with compunction tweaking at his chest Soames descended the stairs where was always that rather pleasant smell of camphor and port wine and houseware draughts are not permitted the poor old things he had not meant to be unkind and in the street he instantly forgot them repossessed by the image of Annette and the thought of the cursed coil around him why had he not pushed the thing through and obtained divorce when that wretched Bessini was run over and there was evidence galore for the asking and he turned towards his sister Winifred Darte's residence in Green Street, Mayfair End of Part 1 Chapter 1 Part 1 of Inchansary This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please go to LibriVox.org Recording by Andy Minter The Foresight Saga 2 Inchansary by John Gallsworthy Part 1 Chapter 2 Exit a Man of the World That a man of the world so subject to the vicissitudes of fortune as Montague Darte should still be living in a house he had inhabited twenty years at least would have been more noticeable if the rent, rate, taxes and repairs of that house had not been defrayed by his father-in-law by that simple if wholesale device James Foresight had secured a certain stability in the lives of his daughter and his grandchildren after all there is something invaluable about a safe roof over the head of a sportsman so dashing as Darte until the events of the last few days he had been almost supernaturally steady all this year the fact was he had acquired a half share in a filly of George Foresight's who had gone irreparably on the turf to the horror of Roger now stilled by the grave Sleevelinks by Marta out of shirt on fire by Suspender was a bay filly three years old who for a variety of reasons had never shown her true form with half ownership of this hopeful animal all the idealism latent somewhere in Darte as in every other man had put up its head and kept him quietly ardent for months past when a man has something good to live for it is astonishing how sober he becomes and what Darte had was really good a three to one chance for an autumn handicap publicly assessed at 25 to one the old fashioned heaven was a poor thing beside it and his shirt was on the daughter of shirt on fire but how much more than his shirt depended on this granddaughter of Suspender at that roving age of 45 trying to Foresight's distinguishable from any other age trying even to Darte's Montague had fixed his current fancy on a dancer it was no mean passion but without money and a good deal of it likely to remain a love as airy as her skirts and Darte never had any money subsisting miserably on what he could beg or borrow from Winifred a woman of character who kept him because he was the father of her children and from a lingering admiration for those now dying Wardo Street good looks which in their youth had fascinated her she, together with anyone else who would lend him anything and his losses at cards and on the turf extraordinary how some men make a good thing out of losses were his whole means of subsistence for James was now too old and nervous to approach and soams too forminably adamant it is not too much to say that Darte had been living on hope for months he had never been fond of money for itself had always despised the foresight with their investing habits though careful to make such use of them as he could what he liked about money was what it bought personal sensation no real sportsman cares for money he would say borrowing a pony if it was no use trying for a monkey there was something delicious about Montague Darte he was as George foresight said a daisy the morning of the handicap dawned clear and bright the last day of September and Darte who had travelled to Newmarket the night before arrayed himself in spotless checks and walked to an eminence to see his half of the filly take her final canter if she won he would be a cool three thou in pocket a poor enough recompense for the sobriety and patience of these weeks of hope while they had been nursing her for this race but he had not been able to afford more should he lay it off at the eight to one which she had advanced this was his single thought while the lark sang about him and the grassy down smelled sweet and the pretty filly passed tossing her head and glowing like satin after all if he lost it it would not be he who paid and to lay it off would reduce his winnings to some fifteen hundred hardly enough to purchase a dancer out and out even more potent was the itch in the blood of all the darties for a real flutter and turning to George he said she's a clipper she'll win hands down I shall go the whole hog George who had laid off every penny and a few besides and stood to win however it came out grinned down on him from his bulky height with the words so ho my wild one for after a checkered apprenticeship weathered with the money of a deeply complaining Roger his foresight blood was beginning to stand him in good stead in the profession of owner there are moments of disillusionment in the lives of men from which the sensitive recorder shrinks suffice it to say that if the good thing fell down sleeve links finished in the ruck darties shirt was lost between the passing of these things and the day when Soames turned his face towards Green Street what had not happened when a man with the constitution of Montague Darty has exercised self-control for months from religious motives and remains unrewarded he does not curse God and die he curses God and lives to the distress of his family Winifred a plucky woman if a little too fashionable who had borne the brunt of him for exactly 21 years had never really believed that he would do what he did now like so many wives she thought she knew the worst but she had not yet known him in his 45th year when he, like other men, felt that it was now or never paying on the 2nd of October a visit of inspection to her jewel case she was horrified to observe that her woman's crown and glory was gone the pearls which Montague had given her in 86 when Benedict was born in the spring of 87 to save scandal she consulted her husband at once he poo-pooed the matter they would turn up nor till she said sharply very well then, Montague I shall go down to Scotland Yard myself did he consent to take the matter in hand alas that the steady and resolved continuity of design necessary to the accomplishment of sweeping operations should be liable to interruption by drink that night Darty returned home without a care in the world or a particle of reticence under normal conditions Winifred would merely have locked her door and let him sleep it off but torturing suspense about her pearls had caused her to wait up for him taking a small revolver from his pocket and holding on to the dining-table he told her at once that he did not care a curse whether she lived as long as she was quiet but he himself was tired of life Winifred holding on to the other side of the dining-table answered don't be a clown Monty have you been to Scotland Yard placing the revolver against his chest Darty had pulled the trigger several times it was not loaded dropping it with an imprecation he muttered for the shake of the children and sank into a chair Winifred having picked up the revolver gave him some soda-water the liquor had a magical effect Life had ill you used him Winifred had never understood him if he hadn't the right to take the pearls he had given her himself who had that Spanish filly had got him if Winifred had any objection he'd cut her throat what was the matter with that probably the first usage of that celebrated phrase so obscurely the origins of even the most classical language Winifred who had learned self-containment in a hard school looked up at him and said Spanish filly doing that girl we saw dancing in the pandemonium ballet well, you're a thief and a blaggard it had been the last straw on a sorely loaded consciousness reaching up from his chair Darty seized his wife's arm and recalling the achievements of his boyhood twisted it Winifred endured the agony with tears in her eyes but no murmur watching for a moment of weakness she wrenched it free then placing the dining-table between them said between her teeth you have a limit, Monty undoubtedly the inception of that phrase so his English formed under the stress of circumstances leaving Darty with foam on his dark moustache she went upstairs and after locking her door and bathing her arm in hot water lay awake all night thinking of her pearls adorning the neck of another and of the consideration her husband had presumably received, therefore the man of the world awoke with a sense of being lost to that world and a dim recollection of having been called a limit he sat for half an hour in the door perhaps the unhappiest half-hour he had ever spent but even to a Darty there is something tragic about an end and he knew that he had reached it never again would he sleep in his dining-room and wake with the light filtering through those curtains bought by Winifred at Nickens and Jarvis with the money of James never again eat a deviled kidney at that rosewood table after a roll in the sheets and a hot bath he took his note-case from his dress-coat pocket four hundred pounds in fives and tens the remainder of the proceeds of his half of sleeve-links sold last night cashed down to George Foresight who, having won over the race had not conceived the sudden dislike to the animal which he himself now felt the ballet was going to Buenos Aires the day after tomorrow and he was going too full value for the pearls had not yet been received he was only at the soup he stole upstairs not daring to have a bath or shave besides the water would be cold he changed his clothes and packed stealthily all he could it was hard to leave so many shining boots but one must sacrifice something then carrying a valise in either hand he stepped out onto the landing the house was very quiet that house where he had begotten his four children it was a curious moment this, outside the room of his wife once admired, if not perhaps loved who had called him the limit he steeled himself with that phrase and tiptoed on but the next door was harder to pass it was the room his daughters slept in Maud was at school but Imogen would be lying there and Moisture came into Dartis early morning eyes she was the most like him of the four with her dark hair and her luscious brown glance just coming out a pretty thing he sat down the two valises this almost formal abdication of fatherhood hurt him the morning light fell on a face which worked with real emotion nothing so false as Penitence moved him but genuine paternal feeling and that melancholy of never again he moistened his lips and completed resolution for a moment he paralyzed his legs in their checked trousers it was hard hard to be thus compelled to leave his home damn it he muttered they never thought it would come to this noises above warned him that the maids were beginning to get up and grasping his two valises he tiptoed on downstairs his cheeks were wet and the knowledge of that was comforting as though it guaranteed the genuineness of his sacrifice there was little in the rooms below to pack all the cigars he had some papers, a crush hat a silver cigarette box, a roughs guide then mixing himself a stiff whisk in soda and lighting a cigarette he stored hesitating before a photograph of his two girls in a silver frame it belonged to Winifred never mind he thought she can get another taken and I can't he slipped it into the valise putting on his hat and overcoat he took two others his best Malacca cane an umbrella and opened the front door closing it softly behind him he walked out burdened as he had never been in all his life and made his way round the corner to wait there for an early cab to come by thus had passed Montague Darty in the 45th year of his age from the house which he had called his own when Winifred came down and realised that he was not in the house her first feeling was one of dull anger that he should thus elude the reproaches she had carefully prepared in those long wakeful hours he had gone off to new market or brighten with that woman as likely as not disgusting forced to a complete reticence before Imogen and the servants and aware that her father's nerves would never stand the disclosure she had been unable to refrain from going to Timothy's that afternoon and pouring out the story of the pearls to Aunt Julie and Hester in utter confidence it was only on the following morning that she noticed the disappearance of that photograph what did it mean? careful examination of her husband's relics prompted the thought that he had gone for good as that conclusion hardened she stood quite still in the middle of his dressing room with all the drawers pulled out to try and realise what she was feeling by no means easy though he was the limit he was yet her property and for the life of her she could not but feel the poorer to be widowed yet not widowed at footy-two with four children made conspicuous an object of commiseration gone to the arms of a Spanish jade memories feelings which she had thought quite dead revived within her painful, sullen, tenacious mechanically she'd closed drawer after drawer went to her bed lay on it and buried her face in the pillows she did not cry what was the use of that? when she got off her bed to go down to lunch she felt as if only one thing could do her good and that was to have Val home he, her eldest boy who was to go to Oxford next month was at Littlehampton taking his final gallops with his trainer for smalls as he would have phrased it following his father's diction she caused a telegram to be sent to him I must see about his clothes she said to Imogen I can't have him going up to Oxford all anyhow those boys are so particular Val's got heaps of things Imogen answered I know but they want overhauling I hope he'll come he'll come like a short mother but he'll probably skew his exam I can't help that said Winifred I want him with an innocent shrewd look at her mother's face Imogen kept silent it was father, of course Val did come like a shot at six o'clock imagine a cross between the pickle and the foresight and you have young Publius Valerius Darty a youth so named could hardly turn out otherwise when he was born Winifred, in the heyday of spirits and the craving for distinction had determined that her children should have names such as no others had ever had it was a mercy, she felt now that she had not just named Imogen Thisby but it was to George Foresight always a wag that Val's christening was due it so happened that Darty dining with him a week after the birth of his son and heir to the association of Winifreds call him Cato said George, it'll be damn pecan't he had just won a tenner on a horse of that name Cato Darty had replied they were a little on as the phrase was even in those days it's not a Christian name Hello you George called to a waiter in knee-bridges bring me the encyclopedia Brit from the library let us see here we are said George pointing with his cigar Cato, Publius Valerius by Virgil out of Lydia that's what you want Publius Valerius is Christian enough Darty on arriving home had informed Winifred she had been charmed it was so chic and Publius Valerius became the baby's name though it afterwards transpired that they had got hold of the inferior Cato in 1890 however when little Publius was nearly ten the word chic went out of fashion and sobriety came in Winifred began to have doubts they were confirmed by little Publius himself who returned from his first term at school complaining that life was a burden to him they called him Pubby Winifred, a woman of real decision promptly changed his school and his name to Val the Publius being dropped even as an initial at nineteen he was a limber freckled youth with a wide mouth, light eyes long dark lashes a rather charming smile considerable knowledge of what he should not know and no experience of what he ought to do few boys had more narrowly escaped being expelled the engaging rascal after kissing his mother and pinching Imogen he ran upstairs three at a time and came down four, dressed for dinner he was awfully sorry had asked him to dine at the Oxford and Cambridge it wouldn't do to miss the old chap would be hurt Winifred let him go with an unhappy pride she had wanted him at home but it was very nice to know that his tutor was so fond of him he went out with a wink at Imogen saying, I say mother could I have two plover's eggs when I come in cook's got some, they top up so jolly well oh, and look here have you any money I had to borrow a fiver from old Snobby Winifred, looking at him with fond shrewdness answered, my dear you are naughty about money but you shouldn't pay him to-night anyway you're his guest how nice and slim he looked in his white waistcoat and his dark thick lashes oh, but we may go to the theatre you see mother and I think I ought to stand the tickets he's always hard up, you know Winifred produced a five pound note saying, well perhaps you'd better pay him the tickets too Val pocketed the fiver if I do, I can't, he said good night mum he went out with his head up and his hat cock joyously sniffing the air of Piccadilly like a young hound loosed into a covert jolly good biz after that mouldy old slow-hold down there he found his tutor not indeed at the Oxford and Cambridge but at the Goats Club this tutor was a year older than himself a good-looking youth with fine brown eyes and smooth dark hair a small mouth, a noble face languid, immaculate cool to a degree one of those young men who without effort established moral ascendancy over their companions he had missed being expelled from school a year before Val had spent that year at Oxford and Val could almost see a halo round his head his name was Crumb and no one could get through money quicker it seemed to be his only aim in life dazzling to young Val in whom however the foresight would stand apart now and then wondering where the value for that money was they dined quietly in style and taste left the clubs smoking cigars with just two bottles inside them and dropped into stalls at the Liberty for Val, the sound of comic songs the sight of lovely legs were fogged and interrupted by haunting fears that he would never equal Crumb's quiet dandyism his idealism was roused and when that is so one is never quite at ease surely he had too wide a mouth not the best cut of waistcoat no braid on his trousers and his lavender gloves had no thin black stitching down the back besides he laughed too much Crumb never laughed he only smiled with his regular dark brows raised a little they formed a gable over his just drooped lids no he would never be Crumb's equal all the same was a jolly good show and Cynthia dark simply ripping between the acts Crumb regaled him with particulars of Cynthia's private life and the awful knowledge became Val's but if he liked Crumb could go behind he simply longed to say I say take me but dared not because of his deficiencies he did the last act or two almost miserable on coming out Crumb said it's half an hour before they close let's go on to the pandemonium they took a handsome to travel a hundred yards and seats costing seven and six a piece because they were going to stand and walked into the promenade it was in these little things this utter negligence of money that Crumb had such engaging polish the ballet was on its last legs and night the public of the promenade was suffering for the moment men and women were crowded in three rows against the barrier the whirl and dazzle on the stage the half dark the mingled tobacco fumes and women sent all that curious lure to promiscuity which belongs to promenades began to free young Val from his idealism he looked admiringly in a young woman's face saw she was not young and quickly looked away dark the young woman's arm touched his unconsciously there was a scent of musk and mignonette Val looked round the corner of his lashes perhaps she was young after all her foot trod on his she begged his pardon he said not at all a jolly good ballet isn't it oh I'm tired of it aren't you young Val smiled his wide rather charming smile beyond that he did not go not yet convinced the foresight in him stood out for greater certainty and on the stage the ballet whirled its kaleidoscope of snow white, salmon pink and emerald green and violet and seemed suddenly to freeze into a stilly, spangled pyramid applause broke out and it was over maroon curtains had cut it off the semi-circle of men and women round the barrier broke up Val's arm pressed his a little way off disturbance seemed centering round a man with a pink carnation Val stole another glance at the young woman who was looking towards it three men, unsteady emerged, walking arm in arm the one in the centre wore the pink carnation a white waistcoat a dark moustache he reeled a little as he walked Crumb's voice said slow and level look at that bounder, he's screwed Val turned to look the bounder had disengaged his arm and was pointing straight at them Crumb's voice, level as ever said he seems to know you the bounder spoke hello, he said, you flows look, there's my young rascal of a son Val saw it was his father he could have sunk into the crimson carpet it was not the meeting in this place not even that his father was screwed it was Crumb's word bounder which as by heavenly revelation he perceived at that moment to be true yes his father looked a bounder with his dark good looks and his pink carnation and his square self-assertive walk and without a word he ducked behind the young woman slipped out of the promenade he heard the word Val behind him found deep carpeted steps passed the chuckers out into the square to be ashamed of his own father is perhaps the bitterest experience a young man can go through it seemed to Val hurrying away that his career had ended before it had begun how could he go up to Oxford now amongst all those chaps those splendid friends of Crumb's who would know that his father was a bounder and suddenly he hated Crumb who the devil was Crumb to say that if Crumb had been beside him at that moment he would certainly have been jostled off the pavement his own father a choke came up in his throat and he dashed his hands down deep into his overcoat pockets damn Crumb he conceived the wild idea of running back and fending his father taking him by the arm and walking about with him in front of Crumb but gave it up at once and pursued his way down Piccadilly a young woman planted herself before him not so angry darling he shied, dodged her and suddenly became quite cool if Crumb ever said a word he would jolly well punch his head and there would be an end of it he walked a hundred yards or more contented with that thought then lost its comfort utterly it wasn't simple like that he remembered how at school when some parent came down who did not pass the standard it just clung to the fellow afterwards it was one of those things nothing could remove why had his mother married his father if he was a bounder it was bitterly unfair jolly lowed down on a fellow to give him a bounder for a father the worst of it was that now Crumb had spoken the word he realised that he had long known subconsciously that his father was not the clean potato it was the beastliest thing beastliest thing that had ever happened to any fellow and downhearted as he had never yet been he came to Green Street and let himself in with a smuggled dachke in the dining room his plover's eggs were set invitingly with some cut bread and butter and a little whiskey at the bottom of a decanter just enough as Winifred had thought for him to feel himself a man it made him sick to look at them and he went upstairs Winifred heard him pass and thought the dear boy's in, thank goodness if he takes after his father I don't know what I shall do but he won't he's like me dear Val End of Part One Chapter Two Part One Chapter Three of Inchancery This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information auto-volunteer please go to LibriVox.org Recording by Andy Minter The Foresight Saga Two Inchancery by John Goresworthy Part One Chapter Three Soames prepares to take steps When Soames entered his sister's little wee cow's drawing-room with its small balcony always flowered with hanging geraniums in the summer and now with pots of lily or moratum he was struck by the immutability of human affairs He'd looked just the same as on his first visit to the newly married darties twenty-one years ago He had chosen the furniture himself and so completely that no subsequent purchase had ever been able to change the room's atmosphere Yes, he had founded his sister well and she had wanted it Indeed, it set a great deal for Winifred that after all this time with Darty she remained well founded From the first Soames had nosed out Darty's nature from underneath the plausibility Savoir-faire and Goodlux which had dazzled Winifred, her mother and even James to the extent of permitting the fellow to marry his daughter without bringing anything but shares of no value into the settlement Winifred, whom he noticed next to the furniture was sitting at her bull bureau with a letter in her hand She rose and came towards him Tall as himself strong in the cheekbones, well tailored something in her face disturbed Soames She crumpled the letter in her hand but seemed to change her mind and held it out to him He was her lawyer as well as her brother Soames read on Iseum Club paper these words You will not get the chance to insult in my own again I am leaving country tomorrow It's played out, I'm tired of being insulted by you You've brought it on yourself No self-respecting man can stand it I shall not ask you for anything again Goodbye I took the photograph of the two girls Give them my love I don't care what your family say It's all they're doing I'm going to live new life This after-dinner note had a splotch on it not yet quite dry He looked at Winifred The splotch had clearly come from her and he checked the words Good riddance Then it occurred to him that with this letter she was entering that very state which he himself so earnestly desired to quit the state of a foresight who was not divorced Winifred had turned away and was taking a long sniff with his old top bottle a dull commiseration together with a vague sense of injury crept about Somes heart He had come to her to talk of his own position and get sympathy and here she was in the same position wanting, of course, to talk of it and get sympathy from him It was always like that Nobody ever seemed to think that he had troubles and interests of his own He folded up the letter with the splotch inside out now Winifred recited the story of the pearls calmly Do you think he's really gone, Somes? You see the state he was in when he wrote that Somes, who, when he desired a thing placated Providence by pretending that he did not think it liked it to happen answered I shouldn't think so I might find out at his club If George is there, said Winifred he would know George, said Somes I saw him as his father's funeral Then he's sure to be there Somes, whose good sense applauded his sister's acumen said, grudgingly Well, I'll go round Have you said anything in Park Lane? I've told Emily returned Winifred who retained that chic way of describing her mother Father would have a fit Indeed, anything untoward was now sedulously kept from James With another look round at the furniture as if to gauge his sister's exact position Somes went out towards Piccadilly The evening was drawing in a touch of chill in the October haze He walked quickly with his close and concentrated air He must get through for he wished to dine in Soho On hearing from the hall-porter at the ICM that Mr. Darty had not been in today He looked at the trusty fellow and decided only to ask if Mr. George foresight was in the club He was Somes, who always looked to skance at his cousin George as one inclined to jest at his expense followed the page-boy slightly reassured by the thought that George had just lost his father He must have come in for about 30,000 besides what he had under that settlement of Rogers which had avoided death-duty He found George in a bow-window staring out across a half-eaten plate of muffins His tall, bulky, black-clothed figure loomed almost threatening though preserving still the supernatural neatness of the racing-man With a faint grin on his fleshy face he said Hello, Somes! Have a muffin! No thanks, murmured Somes and nursing his hat with the desire to say something suitable and sympathetic How's your mother? Thanks, said George So-so, I haven't seen you for ages You'll never go racing How's the city? Somes, senting the approach of a jest, closed up and answered I wanted to ask you about Darty I hear he's flitted made a bolt to Buenos Aires with the fair Lola Good for Winifred and the little Darties he's a treat Somes nodded, naturally inimical as these cousins were Darty made them kin Uncle James will sleep in his bed now Resume George I suppose he's had a lot off you too Somes smiled Ah, you saw him further said George amicably He's a real rouser Young Val will want a bit of looking after I was always sorry for Winifred She's a plucky woman Again Somes nodded I must be getting back to her He said She just wanted to know for certain We may have to take steps I suppose there's no mistake It's quite OK Said George It was he who invented so many of those quaint sayings which have been assigned to other sources He was as drunk as a lord last night but he went off all right this morning His ship's the Tuscarora And fishing out a card he reared mockingly Mr. Montague Darty Post-restaurant Buenos Aires Or should hurry up with the steps if I were you He fairly fed me up last night Yes, said Somes But it's not always easy Then, conscious from George's eyes that he had roused reminiscence of his own affair he got up and held out his hand George rose too Remember me to Winifred You will enter her for the rest of your life You will enter her for the rest of your life Mr. Winifred You will enter her for the divorce steak straight off if you ask me Somes took a side-long look back at him from the doorway George had seated himself again and was staring before him He looked big and lonely in those black clothes Somes had never known him so subdued I suppose he feels it in a way he thought They must have about 50,000 each all told They ought to keep the estate together If there's a war house property will go down Uncle Roger was a good judge, though And the face of Annette rose before him in the darkening street Her brown hair and her blue eyes with those dark lashes Her fresh lips and cheeks Dewey and blooming in spite of London Her perfect French figure Take steps, he thought Re-entering Winifred's house he encountered Val and they went in together An idea had occurred to Somes His cousin Jolian was Irene's trustee The first step would be to go down and see him at Robin Hill Robin Hill The odd feeling those words brought back Robin Hill The house Bessini had built for him and Irene The house they had never lived in The fatal house And Jolian lived there now And suddenly he thought They say he's got a boy at Oxford Why not take young Val down and introduce them? It's an excuse, less bald Very much less bald So as they went upstairs he said to Val You've got a cousin at Oxford You've never met him I should like to take you down with me tomorrow to where he lives and introduce you You'll find it useful Val, receiving the idea with but moderate transports Somes clinched it I'll call for you after lunch It's in the country, not far You'll enjoy it On the threshold of the drawing room he recalled with an effort that the steps he contemplated concerned Winifred at the moment not himself Winifred was still sitting at her Buell Bureau It's quite true, he said He's gone to Buenos Aires started this morning on a cable at once Otherwise we may have a lot of expense The sooner these things are done the better I'm always regretting that I didn't He stopped and looked side-long at the silent Winifred By the way, he went on Can you prove cruelty? Winifred said in a dull voice I don't know What is cruelty? Well, has he struck you or anything? Winifred shook herself and her jaw grew square He twisted my arm or would pointing a pistol count or being too drunk to undress himself or No, I can't bring in the children No, said Somes, no I wonder Of course there's legal separation We can get that but separation and What does it mean? asked Winifred desolately that he can't touch you or you him You're both of you married and unmarried and again he grunted What was it in fact but his own accursed position legalized No, he would not put her into that It must be divorce he said decisively Failing cruelty, there's desertion There's a way of shortening the two years now We get the court to give us restitution of conjugal rights Then if he doesn't obey we can bring a suit for divorce in six months time Of course you don't want him back but they won't know that Still, there's the risk that he might come I'd rather try cruelty Winifred shook her head It's so beastly Well Somes murmured Perhaps there isn't much risk so long as he's infatuated and got money Don't say anything to anybody and don't pay any of his debts Winifred sighed In spite of all she had been through the sense of loss was heavy on her and this idea of not paying his debts any more brought it home to her as nothing else yet had Some richness seemed to have gone out of life without her husband without her pearls without that intimate sense that she made a brave show above the domestic whirlpool she would now have to face the world she felt bereaved indeed and into the chilly kiss he placed on her forehead Somes put more than his usual warmth I have to go down to Robin Hill to-morrow, he said to see Young Jolian on business He's got a boy at Oxford I'd like to take Val with me and introduce him Come down to the shelter for the weekend and bring the children Oh, by the way, no, that won't do I've got some other people coming So saying he left her and turned towards Soho End of Part 1, Chapter 3