Out of his other property, out of all the things he had collected, his silver, his pictures, his houses, his investments, he got a secret and intimate feeling; out of her he got none.
In this house of his there was writing on every wall. His business-like temperament protested against a mysterious warning that she was not made for him. He had married this woman, conquered her, made her his own, and it seemed to him contrary to the most fundamental of all laws, the law of possession, that he could do no more than own her body if indeed he could do that, which he was beginning to doubt. If any one had asked him if he wanted to own her soul, the question would have seemed to him both ridiculous and sentimental. But he did so want, and the writing said he never would.
She was ever silent, passive, gracefully averse; as though terrified lest by word, motion, or sign she might lead him to believe that she was fond of him; and he asked himself: Must I always go on like this?
Like most novel readers of his generation (and Soames was a great novel reader), literature coloured his view of life; and he had imbibed the belief that it was only a question of time.
In the end the husband always gained the affection of his wife. Even in those cases a class of book he was not very fond of which ended in tragedy, the wife always died with poignant regrets on her lips, or if it were the husband who died unpleasant thought threw herself on his body in an agony of remorse.
He often took Irene to the theatre, instinctively choosing the modern Society Plays with the modern Society conjugal problem, so fortunately different from any conjugal problem in real life. He found that they too always ended in the same way, even when there was a lover in the case. While he was watching the play Soames often sympathized with the lover; but before he reached home again, driving with Irene in a hansom, he saw that this would not do, and he was glad the play had ended as it had. There was one class of husband that had just then come into fashion, the strong, rather rough, but extremely sound man, who was peculiarly successful at the end of the play; with this person Soames was really not in sympathy, and had it not been for his own position, would have expressed his disgust with the fellow. But he was so conscious of how vital to himself was the necessity for being a successful, even a strong, husband, that he never spoke of a distaste born perhaps by the perverse processes of Nature out of a secret fund of brutality in himself.
But Irenes silence this evening was exceptional. He had never before seen such an expression on her face. And since it is always the unusual which alarms, Soames was alarmed. He ate his savoury, and hurried the maid as she swept off the crumbs with the silver sweeper. When she had left the room, he filled his glass with wine and said:
Anybody been here this afternoon?
June.
What did she want? It was an axiom with the Forsytes that people did not go anywhere unless they wanted something. Came to talk about her lover, I suppose?
Irene made no reply.
It looks to me, continued Soames, as if she were sweeter on him than he is on her. Shes always following him about.
Irenes eyes made him feel uncomfortable.
Youve no business to say such a thing! she exclaimed.
Why not? Anybody can see it.
They cannot. And if they could, its disgraceful to say so.
Soamess composure gave way.
Youre a pretty wife! he said. But secretly he wondered at the heat of her reply; it was unlike her. Youre cracked about June! I can tell you one thing: now that she has the Buccaneer in tow, she doesnt care twopence about you, and, youll find it out. But you wont see so much of her in future; were going to live in the country.
He had been glad to get his news out under cover of this burst of irritation. He had expected a cry of dismay; the silence with which his pronouncement was received alarmed him.
You dont seem interested, he was obliged to add.
I knew it already.
He looked at her sharply.
Who told you?
June.
How did she know?
Irene did not answer. Baffled and uncomfortable, he said:
Its a fine thing for Bosinney, itll be the making of him. I suppose shes told you all about it?
Yes.
There was another pause, and then Soames said:
I suppose you dont want to go?
Irene made no reply.
Well, I cant tell what you want. You never seem contented here.
Have my wishes anything to do with it?
She took the vase of roses and left the room. Soames remained seated. Was it for this that he had signed that contract? Was it for this that he was going to spend some ten thousand pounds? Bosinneys phrase came back to him: Women are the devil!
But presently he grew calmer. It might have been worse. She might have flared up. He had expected something more than this. It was lucky, after all, that June had broken the ice for him. She must have wormed it out of Bosinney; he might have known she would.
He lighted his cigarette. After all, Irene had not made a scene! She would come round that was the best of her; she was cold, but not sulky. And, puffing the cigarette smoke at a lady-bird on the shining table, he plunged into a reverie about the house. It was no good worrying; he would go and make it up presently. She would be sitting out there in the dark, under the Japanese sunshade, knitting. A beautiful, warm night.
In truth, June had come in that afternoon with shining eyes, and the words: Soames is a brick! Its splendid for Phil the very thing for him!
Irenes face remaining dark and puzzled, she went on:
Your new house at Robin Hill, of course. What? Dont you know?
Irene did not know.
Oh! then, I suppose I oughtnt to have told you! Looking impatiently at her friend, she cried: You look as if you didnt care. Dont you see, its what Ive been praying for the very chance hes been wanting all this time. Now youll see what he can do; and thereupon she poured out the whole story.
Irenes face remaining dark and puzzled, she went on:
Your new house at Robin Hill, of course. What? Dont you know?
Irene did not know.
Oh! then, I suppose I oughtnt to have told you! Looking impatiently at her friend, she cried: You look as if you didnt care. Dont you see, its what Ive been praying for the very chance hes been wanting all this time. Now youll see what he can do; and thereupon she poured out the whole story.
Since her own engagement she had not seemed much interested in her friends position; the hours she spent with Irene were given to confidences of her own; and at times, for all her affectionate pity, it was impossible to keep out of her smile a trace of compassionate contempt for the woman who had made such a mistake in her life such a vast, ridiculous mistake.
Hes to have all the decorations as well a free hand. Its perfect June broke into laughter, her little figure quivered gleefully; she raised her hand, and struck a blow at a muslin curtain. Do you know, I even asked Uncle James. But, with a sudden dislike to mentioning that incident, she stopped; and presently, finding her friend so unresponsive, went away. She looked back from the pavement, and Irene was still standing in the doorway. In response to her farewell wave, Irene put her hand to her brow, and, turning slowly, shut the door.
Soames went to the drawing-room presently, and peered at her through the window.
Out in the shadow of the Japanese sunshade she was sitting very still, the lace on her white shoulders stirring with the soft rise and fall of her bosom.
But about this silent creature sitting there so motionless, in the dark, there seemed a warmth, a hidden fervour of feeling, as if the whole of her being had been stirred, and some change were taking place in its very depths.
He stole back to the dining-room unnoticed.
Chapter VI
James at Large
It was not long before Soamess determination to build went the round of the family, and created the flutter that any decision connected with property should make among Forsytes.
It was not his fault, for he had been determined that no one should know. June, in the fulness of her heart, had told Mrs. Small, giving her leave only to tell Aunt Ann she thought it would cheer her, the poor old sweet! for Aunt Ann had kept her room now for many days.
Mrs. Small told Aunt Ann at once, who, smiling as she lay back on her pillows, said in her distinct, trembling old voice:
Its very nice for dear June; but I hope they will be careful its rather dangerous!
When she was left alone again, a frown, like a cloud presaging a rainy morrow, crossed her face.
While she was lying there so many days the process of recharging her will went on all the time; it spread to her face, too, and tightening movements were always in action at the corners of her lips.
The maid Smither, who had been in her service since girlhood, and was spoken of as Smither a good girl but so slow! the maid Smither performed every morning with extreme punctiliousness the crowning ceremony of that ancient toilet. Taking from the recesses of their pure white band-box those flat, grey curls, the insignia of personal dignity, she placed them securely in her mistresss hands, and turned her back.
And every day Aunts Juley and Hester were required to come and report on Timothy; what news there was of Nicholas; whether dear June had succeeded in getting Jolyon to shorten the engagement, now that Mr. Bosinney was building Soames a house; whether young Rogers wife was really expecting; how the operation on Archie had succeeded; and what Swithin had done about that empty house in Wigmore Street, where the tenant had lost all his money and treated him so badly; above all, about Soames; was Irene still still asking for a separate room? And every morning Smither was told: I shall be coming down this afternoon, Smither, about two oclock. I shall want your arm, after all these days in bed!
After telling Aunt Ann, Mrs. Small had spoken of the house in the strictest confidence to Mrs. Nicholas, who in her turn had asked Winifred Dartie for confirmation, supposing, of course, that, being Soamess sister, she would know all about it. Through her it had in due course come round to the ears of James. He had been a good deal agitated.
Nobody, he said, told him anything. And, rather than go direct to Soames himself, of whose taciturnity he was afraid, he took his umbrella and went round to Timothys.