Part 45 (2/2)
”I don't quite see where I come in.”
”My dear Jan, that's absurd. You have money--and a few hundreds now will start me again....”
”Start you again in what direction?”
”That's what we've got to thresh out. I've several propositions to lay before you.”
”All propositions will have to be submitted to Mr. Davidson.”
”That's nonsense. You must remember that I could contest Fay's will if I liked--it was grossly unfair to leave that two thousand pounds away from me.”
”She left it to her children, Hugo, and _you_ must remember you spent eight thousand pounds of her money.”
”_I_ didn't spend it. Do you think _I_ benefited? The investments were unfortunate, I grant you, but that's not to say I had it.”
”Anyway that money is gone.”
”And the sooner I set about making some more to replace it the better, but I must have help.”
”It takes every penny of my income to run things here.”
”Well, you know, Jan, to be quite candid, I think it's rather ridiculous of you to live here. You could let this place easily and for a good rent. In a smaller house you'd be equally comfortable and in easier circ.u.mstances. I'm not at all sure I approve of my children being brought up with the false ideas they will inevitably acquire if they continue to live in a big place like this.”
”You see, Hugo, it happens to be my house, and I'm fond of it.”
”No doubt, but if you make a fetish of the house, if the house stands in the way of your helping your own flesh and blood....”
”I don't think I've ever refused to help my _own_ relations.”
”Which means, I suppose, that your sister's husband is nothing to you.”
Jan rose. ”You are rather unjust, I think,” she said quietly. ”I must put the children first.”
”And suppose you marry----”
”I certainly wouldn't marry any man who would object to my doing all I could for my sister's children.”
”You think so now, but wait till a man comes along. You're just getting to the age, Jan, when a woman is most apt to make a fool of herself over a man. And, remember this, I'd much rather my children were brought up simply with my people in Guernsey than that they should grow up with all sorts of false ideas with nothing to back them.”
Jan clenched her teeth, and though outwardly she was silent, her soul was repeating, ”I _will_ not fear,” over and over again.
”Perhaps you are right, Hugo,” she said quietly. ”You must arrange as you think best; only please remember that you can hardly expect me to contribute to the keeping of the children if I am allowed no voice in their upbringing. Have you consulted your parents as to their living with them in Guernsey? Shall we go out? It's such a beautiful evening.”
Hugo followed her into the hall and out into the garden. Involuntarily he looked after her with considerable admiration. She held herself well, that quiet woman. She waited for him in the drive, and as she did so Tony's words came back to her: ”I used to feel frightened inside, but I wouldn't let him know it, and then--it was funny--but quite sunnly I wasn't frightened any more. You try it.”
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