He moved to and fro between the great polished sideboard and the great polished table inimitably sleek and soft.
Old Jolyon watched him, feigning sleep. The fellow was a sneak he had always thought so who cared about nothing but rattling through his work, and getting out to his betting or his woman or goodness knew what! A slug! Fat too! And didnt care a pin about his master!
But then against his will, came one of those moments of philosophy which made old Jolyon different from other Forsytes:
After all why should the man care? He wasnt paid to care, and why expect it? In this world people couldnt look for affection unless they paid for it. It might be different in the next he didnt know couldnt tell! And again he shut his eyes.
Relentless and stealthy, the butler pursued his labours, taking things from the various compartments of the sideboard. His back seemed always turned to old Jolyon; thus, he robbed his operations of the unseemliness of being carried on in his masters presence; now and then he furtively breathed on the silver, and wiped it with a piece of chamois leather. He appeared to pore over the quantities of wine in the decanters, which he carried carefully and rather high, letting his head droop over them protectingly. When he had finished, he stood for over a minute watching his master, and in his greenish eyes there was a look of contempt:
After all, this master of his was an old buffer, who hadnt much left in him!
Soft as a tom-cat, he crossed the room to press the bell. His orders were dinner at seven. What if his master were asleep; he would soon have him out of that; there was the night to sleep in! He had himself to think of, for he was due at his Club at half-past eight!
In answer to the ring, appeared a page boy with a silver soup tureen. The butler took it from his hands and placed it on the table, then, standing by the open door, as though about to usher company into the room, he said in a solemn voice:
Dinner is on the table, sir!
Slowly old Jolyon got up out of his chair, and sat down at the table to eat his dinner.
Chapter VIII
Plans of the House
Forsytes, as is generally admitted, have shells, like that extremely useful little animal which is made into Turkish delight, in other words, they are never seen, or if seen would not be recognised, without habitats, composed of circumstance, property, acquaintances, and wives, which seem to move along with them in their passage through a world composed of thousands of other Forsytes with their habitats. Without a habitat a Forsyte is inconceivable he would be like a novel without a plot, which is well-known to be an anomaly.
To Forsyte eyes Bosinney appeared to have no habitat, he seemed one of those rare and unfortunate men who go through life surrounded by circumstance, property, acquaintances, and wives that do not belong to them.
His rooms in Sloane Street, on the top floor, outside which, on a plate, was his name, Philip Baynes Bosinney, Architect, were not those of a Forsyte. He had no sitting-room apart from his office, but a large recess had been screened off to conceal the necessaries of life a couch, an easy chair, his pipes, spirit case, novels and slippers. The business part of the room had the usual furniture; an open cupboard with pigeon-holes, a round oak table, a folding wash-stand, some hard chairs, a standing desk of large dimensions covered with drawings and designs. June had twice been to tea there under the chaperonage of his aunt.
He was believed to have a bedroom at the back.
As far as the family had been able to ascertain his income, it consisted of two consulting appointments at twenty pounds a year, together with an odd fee once in a way, and more worthy item a private annuity under his fathers will of one hundred and fifty pounds a year.
What had transpired concerning that father was not so reassuring. It appeared that he had been a Lincolnshire country doctor of Cornish extraction, striking appearance, and Byronic tendencies a well-known figure, in fact, in his county. Bosinneys uncle by marriage, Baynes, of Baynes and Bildeboy, a Forsyte in instincts if not in name, had but little that was worthy to relate of his brother-in-law.
An odd fellow! he would say: always spoke of his three eldest boys as good creatures, but so dull; theyre all doing capitally in the Indian Civil[20]! Philip was the only one he liked. Ive heard him talk in the queerest way; he once said to me: My dear fellow, never let your poor wife know what youre thinking of! But I didnt follow his advice; not I! An eccentric man! He would say to Phil: Whether you live like a gentleman or not, my boy, be sure you die like one! and he had himself embalmed in a frock coat suit, with a satin cravat and a diamond pin. Oh, quite an original, I can assure you!
Of Bosinney himself Baynes would speak warmly, with a certain compassion: Hes got a streak of his fathers Byronism. Why, look at the way he threw up his chances when he left my office; going off like that for six months with a knapsack, and all for what? to study foreign architecture foreign! What could he expect? And there he is a clever young fellow doesnt make his hundred a year! Now this engagement is the best thing that could have happened keep him steady; hes one of those that go to bed all day and stay up all night, simply because theyve no method; but no vice about him not an ounce of vice. Old Forsytes a rich man!
Mr. Baynes made himself extremely pleasant to June, who frequently visited his house in Lowndes Square at this period.
This house of your cousins what a capital man of business is the very thing for Philip, he would say to her; you mustnt expect to see too much of him just now, my dear young lady. The good cause the good cause! The young man must make his way. When I was his age I was at work day and night. My dear wife used to say to me, Bobby, dont work too hard, think of your health; but I never spared myself!
June had complained that her lover found no time to come to Stanhope Gate.
The first time he came again they had not been together a quarter of an hour before, by one of those coincidences of which she was a mistress, Mrs. Septimus Small arrived. Thereon Bosinney rose and hid himself, according to previous arrangement, in the little study, to wait for her departure.
My dear, said Aunt Juley, how thin he is! Ive often noticed it with engaged people; but you mustnt let it get worse. Theres Barlows extract of veal; it did your Uncle Swithin a lot of good.
June, her little figure erect before the hearth, her small face quivering grimly, for she regarded her aunts untimely visit in the light of a personal injury, replied with scorn:
Its because hes busy; people who can do anything worth doing are never fat!
Aunt Juley pouted; she herself had always been thin, but the only pleasure she derived from the fact was the opportunity of longing to be stouter.
I dont think, she said mournfully, that you ought to let them call him The Buccaneer; people might think it odd, now that hes going to build a house for Soames. I do hope he will be careful; its so important for him. Soames has such good taste!
Taste! cried June, flaring up at once; wouldnt give that for his taste, or any of the familys!
Mrs. Small was taken aback.
Your Uncle Swithin, she said, always had beautiful taste! And Soamess little house is lovely; you dont mean to say you dont think so!
Hmph! said June, thats only because Irenes there!
Aunt Juley tried to say something pleasant:
And how will dear Irene like living in the country?
June gazed at her intently, with a look in her eyes as if her conscience had suddenly leaped up into them; it passed; and an even more intent look took its place, as if she had stared that conscience out of countenance. She replied imperiously:
Of course shell like it; why shouldnt she?
Mrs. Small grew nervous.
I didnt know, she said; I thought she mightnt like to leave her friends. Your Uncle James says she doesnt take enough interest in life. We think I mean Timothy thinks she ought to go out more. I expect youll miss her very much!
June clasped her hands behind her neck.
I do wish, she cried, Uncle Timothy wouldnt talk about what doesnt concern him!
Aunt Juley rose to the full height of her tall figure.
He never talks about what doesnt concern him, she said.
June was instantly compunctious; she ran to her aunt and kissed her.
Im very sorry, auntie; but I wish theyd let Irene alone.
Aunt Juley, unable to think of anything further on the subject that would be suitable, was silent; she prepared for departure, hooking her black silk cape across her chest, and, taking up her green reticule:
And how is your dear grandfather? she asked in the hall, I expect hes very lonely now that all your time is taken up with Mr. Bosinney.
She bent and kissed her niece hungrily, and with little, mincing steps passed away.
The tears sprang up in Junes eyes; running into the little study, where Bosinney was sitting at the table drawing birds on the back of an envelope, she sank down by his side and cried:
Oh, Phil! its all so horrid! Her heart was as warm as the colour of her hair.
On the following Sunday morning, while Soames was shaving, a message was brought him to the effect that Mr. Bosinney was below, and would be glad to see him. Opening the door into his wifes room, he said:
Bosinneys downstairs. Just go and entertain him while I finish shaving. Ill be down in a minute. Its about the plans, I expect.
Irene looked at him, without reply, put the finishing touch to her dress and went downstairs. He could not make her out about this house. She had said nothing against it, and, as far as Bosinney was concerned, seemed friendly enough.
From the window of his dressing-room he could see them talking together in the little court below. He hurried on with his shaving, cutting his chin twice. He heard them laugh, and thought to himself: Well, they get on all right, anyway!
As he expected, Bosinney had come round to fetch him to look at the plans.
He took his hat and went over.
The plans were spread on the oak table in the architects room; and pale, imperturbable, inquiring, Soames bent over them for a long time without speaking.
He said at last in a puzzled voice:
Its an odd sort of house!
A rectangular house of two stories was designed in a quadrangle round a covered-in court. This court, encircled by a gallery on the upper floor, was roofed with a glass roof, supported by eight columns running up from the ground.