He murmured, “I shall never forget you.”

She raised her face to his, with an imperceptible yet searching movement of her eyes; as if there was something he must see, it was not too late: a truth beyond his truths, an emotion beyond his emotions, a history beyond all his conceptions of history. As if she could say worlds; yet at the same time knew that if he could not apprehend those words without her saying them…

It lasted a long moment. Then he dropped his eyes, and her hand.

A minute later he looked back. She stood where he had left her, watching him. He raised his hat. She made no sign.

Ten minutes later still, he stopped at a gateway on the seaward side of the track to the Dairy. It gave a view down across fields towards the Cobb. In the distance below a short figure mounted the fieldpath towards the gate where Charles stood. He drew back a little, hesitated a moment… then went on his own way along the track to the lane that led down to the town.

34

“You have been walking.”

His second change of clothes was thus proved a vain pretense.

“I needed to clear my mind. I slept badly.”

“So did I.” She added, “You said you were fatigued beyond belief.”

“I was.”

“But you stayed up until after one o’clock.”

Charles turned somewhat abruptly to the window. “I had many things to consider.”

Ernestina’s part in this stiff exchange indicates a certain failure to maintain in daylight the tone of her nocturnal self-adjurations. But besides the walking she also knew, via Sam, Mary and a bewildered Aunt Tranter, that Charles planned to leave Lyme that day. She had determined not to demand an explanation of this sudden change of intention; let his lordship give it in his own good time.

And then, when he had finally come, just before eleven, and while she sat primly waiting in the back parlor, he had had the unkindness to speak at length in the hall to Aunt Tranter, and inaudibly, which was the worst of all. Thus she inwardly seethed.

Perhaps not the least of her resentments was that she had taken especial pains with her toilet that morning, and he had not paid her any compliment on it. She wore a rosepink “breakfast” dress with bishop sleeves—tight at the delicate armpit, then pleating voluminously in a froth of gauze to the constricted wrist. It set off her fragility very prettily; and the white ribbons in her smooth hair and a delicately pervasive fragrance of lavender water played their part. She was a sugar Aphrodite, though with faintly bruised eyes, risen from a bed of white linen. Charles might have found it rather easy to be cruel. But he managed a smile and sitting beside her, took one of her hands, and patted it.

“My dearest, I must ask forgiveness. I am not myself. And I fear I’ve decided I must go to London.”

“Oh Charles!”

“I wish it weren’t so. But this new turn of events makes it imperative I see Montague at once.” Montague was the solicitor, in those days before accountants, who looked after Charles’s affairs.

“Can you not wait till I return? It is only ten more days.”

“I shall return to bring you back.”

“But cannot Mr. Montague come here?”

“Alas no, there are so many papers. Besides, that is not my only purpose. I must inform your father of what has happened.”

She removed her hand from his arm.

“But what is it to do with him?”

“My dear child, it has everything to do with him. He has entrusted you to my care. Such a grave alteration in my prospects—”

“But you have still your own income!”

“Well… of course, yes, I shall always be comfortably off. But there are other things. The title…”

“I had forgotten that. Of course. It’s quite impossible that I should marry a mere commoner.” She glanced back at him with an appropriately sarcastic firmness.

“My sweet, be patient. These things have to be said—you bring a great sum of money with you. Of course our private affections are the paramount consideration. However, there is a… well, a legal and contractual side to matrimony which—”

“Fiddlesticks!”

“My dearest Tina…”

“You know perfectly well they would allow me to marry a Hottentot if I wanted.”

“That may be so. But even the most doting parents prefer to be informed—”

“How many rooms has the Belgravia house?” “I have no idea.” He hesitated, then added, “Twenty, I daresay.”

“And you mentioned one day that you had two and a half thousand a year. To which my dowry will bring—”

“Whether our changed circumstances are still sufficient for comfort is not at issue.”

“Very well. Suppose Papa tells you you cannot have my hand. What then?”

“You choose to misunderstand. I know my duty. One cannot be too scrupulous at such a juncture.”

This exchange has taken place without their daring to look at each other’s faces. She dropped her head, in a very plain and mutinous disagreement. He rose and stood behind her.

“It is no more than a formality. But such formalities matter.”

She stared obstinately down.

“I am weary of Lyme. I see you less here than in town.”

He smiled. “That is absurd.”

“It seems less.”

A sullen little line had set about her mouth. She would not be mollified. He went and stood in front of the fireplace, his arm on the mantelpiece, smiling down at her; but it was a smile without humor, a mask. He did not like her when she was willful; it contrasted too strongly with her elaborate clothes, all designed to show a total inadequacy outside the domestic interior. The thin end of the sensible clothes wedge had been inserted in society by the disgraceful Mrs. Bloomer a decade and a half before the year of which I write; but that early attempt at the trouser suit had been comprehensively defeated by the crinoline—a small fact of considerable significance in our understanding of the Victorians. They were offered sense; and chose a six-foot folly unparalleled in the most folly-ridden of minor arts.

However, in the silence that followed Charles was not meditating on the idiocy of high fashion, but on how to leave without more to-do. Fortunately for him Tina had at the same time been reflecting on her position: it was after all rather maidservantish (Aunt Tranter had explained why Mary was not able to answer the waking bell) to make such a fuss about a brief absence. Besides, male vanity lay in being obeyed; female, in using obedience to have the ultimate victory. A time would come when Charles should be made to pay for his cruelty. Her little smile up at him was repentant.

“You will write every day?”

He reached down and touched her cheek. “I promise.”

“And return as soon as you can?”

“Just as soon as I can expedite matters with Montague.”

“I shall write to Papa with strict orders to send you straight back.”

Charles seized his opportunity. “And I shall bear the letter, if you write it at once. I leave in an hour.”

She stood then and held out her hands. She wished to be kissed. He could not bring himself to kiss her on the mouth. So he grasped her shoulders and lightly embraced her on both temples. He then made to go. But for some odd reason he stopped. Ernestina stared demurely and meekly in front of her—at his dark blue cravat with its pearl pin. Why Charles could not get away was not immediately apparent; in fact two hands were hooded firmly in his lower waistcoat pockets. He understood the price of his release, and paid it. No worlds fell, no inner roar, no darkness shrouded eyes and ears, as he stood pressing his lips upon hers for several seconds. But Ernestina was very prettily dressed; a vision, perhaps more a tactile impression, of a tender little white body entered Charles’s mind. Her head turned against his shoulder, she nestled against him; and as he patted and stroked and murmured a few foolish words, he found himself most suddenly embarrassed. There was a distinct stir in his loins. There had always been Ernestina’s humor, her odd little piques and whims of emotion, a promise of certain buried wildnesses… a willingness to learn perversity, one day to bite timidly but deliciously on forbidden fruit. What Charles unconsciously felt was perhaps no more than the ageless attraction of shallow-minded women: that one may make of them what one wants. What he felt consciously was a sense of pollution: to feel carnal desire now, when he had touched another woman’s lips that morning!