Flowering Wilderness

“What’s become of her brother?” And again he looked at Di

“Alan? He’s out on the China station.”

“Your aunt never ceases to bemoan your not clicking there.”

“Dear Uncle, almost anything to oblige Aunt Em; but, feeling like a sister to him, the prayer-book was against me.”

“I don’t want you to marry,” said Sir Lawrence, “and go out to some Barbary or other.”

Through Di

“This confounded officialism,” he continued, “seems to absorb all our kith and kin. My two daughters, Celia in China, Flora in India; your brother Hubert in the Soudan; your sister Clare off as soon as she’s spliced—Jerry Corven’s been given a post in Ceylon. I hear Charlie Muskham’s got attached to Government House, Cape Town; Hilary’s eldest boy’s going into the Indian Civil, and his youngest into the Navy. Dash it all, Di

“Do you see much of Mr. Muskham, then, Uncle?”

“Quite a lot at ‘Burton’s,’ and he comes to me at ‘The Coffee House’; we play piquet—we’re the only two left. That’s in the illegitimate season—from now on I shall hardly see him till after the Cambridgeshire.”

“Is he a terribly good judge of a horse?”

“Yes. Of anything else, Di

“Oh!” said Di

“That’s the glare of the sand. He’s a kind of Bedouin, you know. His father’s a recluse, so it’s a bit in his blood. The best thing I know about him is that Michael likes him, in spite of that business.”

“His poetry?” said Di

“Disharmonic stuff, he destroys with one hand what he gives with the other.”

“Perhaps he’s never found his home. His eyes are rather beautiful, don’t you think?”

“It’s his mouth I remember best, sensitive and bitter.”

“One’s eyes are what one is, one’s mouth what one becomes.”

“That and the stomach.”

“He hasn’t any,” said Di

“The handful of dates and cup of coffee habit. Not that the Arabs drink coffee—green tea is their weakness, with mint in it. My God! Here’s your aunt. When I said ‘My God!’ I was referring to the tea with mint.”

Lady Mont had removed her paper headdress and recovered her breath.

“Darling,” said Di

“Then give me a kiss, Di

“I came up to shop for Clare at the Stores.”

“Have you got your night things with you?”

“No.”

“That doesn’t matter. You can have one of mine. Do you still wear nightdresses?”

“Yes,” said Di

“Good girl! I don’t like pyjamas for women—your uncle doesn’t either. It’s below the waist, you know. You can’t get over it– you try to, but you can’t. Michael and Fleur will be stayin’ on to di

“Thank you, Aunt Em; I do want to stay up. I couldn’t get half the things Clare needs today.”

“I don’t like Clare marryin’ before you, Di

“But she naturally would, Auntie.”

“Fiddle! Clare’s brilliant—they don’t as a rule. I married at twenty-one.”

“You see, dear!”

“You’re laughin’ at me. I was only brilliant once. You remember, Lawrence—about that elephant—I wanted it to sit, and it would kneel. All their legs bend one way, Di

“Aunt Em! Except for that one occasion you’re easily the most brilliant woman I know. Women are so much too consecutive.”

“Your nose is a comfort, Di

“Yours is only faintly aquiline, darling.”

“I was terrified of its gettin’ worse, as a child. I used to stand with the tip pressed up against a wardrobe.”

“I’ve tried that too, Auntie, only the other way.”

“Once while I was doin’ it your father was lyin’ concealed on the top, like a leopard, you know, and he hopped over me and bit through his lip. He bled all down my neck.”

“How nasty!”

“Yes. Lawrence, what are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking that Di

“I was going to have it tomorrow, Uncle.”

“There you are!” said Lady Mont. “Ring for Blore. You’ll never have enough body until you’re married.”

“Let’s get Clare over first, Aunt Em.”

“St. George’s. I suppose Hilary’s doin’ them?”

“Of course!”

“I shall cry.”

“Why, exactly, do you cry at weddings, Auntie?”

“She’ll look like an angel; and the man’ll be in black tails and a toothbrush moustache, and not feelin’ what she thinks he is. Saddenin’!”

“But perhaps he’s feeling more. I’m sure Michael was about Fleur, or Uncle Adrian when he married Diana.”

“Adrian’s fifty-three and he’s got a beard. Besides, he’s Adrian.”

“I admit that makes a difference. But I think we ought rather to cry over the man. The woman’s having the hour of her life and the man’s waistcoat is almost certain to be too tight.”

“Lawrence’s wasn’t. He was always a thread-paper, and I was as slim as you, Di

“You must have looked lovely in a veil, Aunt Em. Didn’t she, Uncle?” The whimsically wistful look on both those mature faces stopped her, and she added: “Where did you first meet?”

“Out huntin’, Di

“I think that’s ideal.”

“Too much mud. We didn’t speak to each other all the rest of the day.”

“Then what brought you together?”

“One thing and another. I was stayin’ with Hen’s people, the Corderoys, and your uncle called to see some puppies. What are you catechisin’ me for?”

“I only just wanted to know how it was done in those days.”

“Go and find out for yourself how it’s done in these days.”

“Uncle Lawrence doesn’t want to get rid of me.”

“All men are selfish, except Michael and Adrian.”

“Besides, I should hate to make you cry.”

“Blore, a cocktail and a sandwich for Miss Di

“What a darling, Uncle!”

“I’ve never denied it, Di

“I always feel better after her. Was she ever out of temper?”

“She can begin to be, but she always goes on to something else before she’s finished.”

“What saving grace… !”

At di

After di

‘If I ever married,’ thought Di

“Do you remember your wedding, Fleur?” she said.

“I do, my dear. A distressing ceremony!”

“I saw your best man today.”

The clear white round Fleur’s eyes widened.

“Wilfrid? How did you remember him?”

“I was only sixteen, and he fluttered my young nerves.”

“That is, of course, the function of a best man. Well, and how was he?”