Busman’s Honeymoon

‘Yes, that’s it. Very like the Ballade des Pendus. Only it was hot, with a sky like brass-and we knew that the end of the journey would be worse than the begi

‘What was the end of it?’

‘It didn’t end. It changed when you touched me-something about rain and a bunch of chrysanthemums… Oh, it was only the old responsibility-dream, and a mild one at that. The fu

‘It’ll come back if you don’t worry it.’

‘I wish it would; and then I shouldn’t feel so guilty about it… Hullo, Bunter, what’s that? The post? Heaven above, man, what have you got there?’

‘Our silk hat, my lord.’

‘Silk hat? Don’t be ridiculous, Bunter. We don’t want that in the country.’

‘The funeral is this morning, my lord. I thought it possible your lordship might desire to attend it. The prayer-books are in the other parcel with the black suit.’

‘But surely to goodness I can go to a village funeral without a mourning suit and a top-hat!’

‘The conventional marks of esteem are highly appreciated in rural communities, my lord. But it is as your lordship wishes. Two vans have arrived to take the furniture, my lord, and Superintendent Kirk is below with Mr MacBride and Mr Solomons. With your lordship’s permission, I will suggest that I should take the car over to Broxford and order a few temporary necessities-such as a couple of camp-beds and a kettle.’

‘Peter,’ said Harriet, looking up from her correspondence, ‘there’s a letter from your mother. She says she is going down to the Dower House this morning. The shooting-party at the Hall has broken up, and Gerald and Helen are going for the weekend to Lord Attenbury’s. She wonders whether we should like to join her for a day or two. She thinks we may need rest and change-not from one another, she is careful to explain, but from what she calls housekeeping.’

‘My mother is a very remarkable woman. Her faculty for hitting the right nail on the head is almost miraculous, especially as all her blows have the air of being delivered at random. Housekeeping! The house is about all we’re likely to keep, by the looks of it.’

‘What do you think of her idea?’

‘It’s rather for you to say. We’ve got to go somewhere or other, unless you really prefer the kettle and the camp-bedstead to which Bunter so feelingly alludes. But it is said to be unwise to introduce the mother-in-law complication too early on.’

‘There are mothers-in-law and mothers-in-law.’

‘True; and you wouldn’t be bothered with the others-in-law, which makes a difference. We once talked about seeing the old place when we could do it on our own.’

‘I’d like to go, Peter.’

‘Very well, then, you shall. Bunter, send Her Grace a wire to say we’re coming down tonight.’

‘Very good, my lord.’

‘Heartfelt satisfaction,’ said Peter, as Bunter left them. ‘He will be sorry to abandon the investigation, but the camp-beds and the kettle would break even Bunter’s spirit. In a way I feel rather thankful to Mr Solomons for precipitating matters. We haven’t run away; we’ve received the order to retreat and can march out with all the honours of war.’

‘You really feel that?’

‘I think so. Yes, I do.’

Harriet looked at him and felt depressed, as one frequently does when one gets what one fancied one wanted. ‘You’ll never want to come back to this house again.’

He shifted uneasily. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I could be bounded in a nutshell… were it not that I have bad dreams.’

But he would always have bad dreams in that house while the shadow of failure lay on it… He pushed the subject aside by asking: ‘Any other news from the Mater?’

‘Not news, exactly. Of course, she’s awfully sorry we’ve been tr-r-roubled by all this. She thinks she has found us a very suitable pair of housemaids, to come in November. The chandelier is up, and every drop has been separately silenced so as not to jingle; she had the piano-tuner playing the piano at it for an hour on end, and it didn’t let out a single ting-a-ling. Ahasuerus caught a mouse on Tuesday night and put it in Franklin’s bedroom slipper. Your nephew had a little difference of opinion with a policeman but explained that he had been marrying off his uncle and escaped with a fine and a caution. That’s all. The rest is-well, it more or less amounts to saying she’s glad I can give you a good chit and it may not be a bad thing to begin with a little adversity.’

‘Perhaps she’s right. I’m thankful it was a good chit, anyhow. Meanwhile, here’s a note for you from Uncle Pandarus-I mean. Uncle Paul-enclosed in a letter to me in which he has the impertinence to hope that my addiction of late years to what he calls “intemperate orgies of virtue” have not left me too much out of practice for my métier d’époux. He recommends une vie réglée and begs I will not allow myself to become trop émotio

‘Mine’s good advice, too; but it isn’t exactly cynical.’

(Mr Delagardie had, in fact, written: ‘My dear niece-I hope that my absurd, but on the whole agreeable nephew is contriving to fill your cup with the wine of life. May an old man who knows him well remind you that what is wine to you is bread to him. You are too sensible to be offended by cette franchise. My nephew is not sensible at all-il n’est que sensible et passablement sensuel. Il a plus besoin de vous que vous de lui; soyez genereuse-c’est une nature qu’on ne saurait gater. Il sent le besoin de se do

Peter gri

(Mr Delagardie had, in fact, written: ‘… Cette femme te sera un point d’appui. Elle n’a co

Peter folded this epistle away with a grimace, and inquired: ‘Do you mean to go to the funeral?’

‘I don’t think so. I’ve got no black frock to do your top-hat credit, and I’d better stay here to keep an eye on the Solomons-MacBride outfit.’