At Lady Molly's - Anthony Powell [32]
Frederica Tolland did not seem gready interested by this account of the General’s Christmas activities. She turned from him to Mrs. Conyers, as if she hoped for something more congenial.
‘What have you been doing, Bertha?’ she asked.
‘I went to the sales yesterday,’ said Mrs. Conyers, speaking as if that were a somewhat disagreeable duty that had been long on her mind.
‘Were you nearly trampled to death?’
‘I came away with a hat.’
‘I went earlier in the week,’ said Frederica. ‘Looking for a cheap black dress, as a matter of fact. So many royalties nearing their century, we’re bound to be in mourning again soon.’
‘Have they been working you hard?’ asked the General.
I had the impression that he might be a little jealous of Frederica, who, for her part, was evidently determined that he should not be allowed to take himself too seriously. There was just a touch of sharpness in their interchanges.
‘Nothing really lethal since the British Industries Fair,’ she said. ‘I had to throw away my best pair of shoes after that. You are lucky not to have to turn out for that sort of thing. It will finish me off one of these days.’
‘You come and carry my axe at the next levée,’ said the General. ‘Thought I was going to drop with fatigue the last time I was on duty. Then that damned fellow Ponsonby trod on my gouty toe.’
‘We saw your Uncle Alfred the other night, Frederica,’ said Mrs. Conyers.
She spoke either with a view to including me in the conversation or because habit had taught her that passages of this kind between her husband and Frederica Budd might become a shade acrimonious: perhaps merely to steer our talk back to the subject of Widmerpool.
‘He was looking well enough,’ she added.
‘Oh no, really?’ said Frederica, plainly surprised at this. ‘Where did you meet him? I thought he never went out except to things like regimental dinners. That is what he always says.’
‘At Molly Jeavons’s. I had not been there before.’
‘Of course. He goes there still, doesn’t he? What strange people he must meet at that house. What sort of a crowd did you find? I really must go and see Molly again myself some time. For some reason I never feel very anxious to go there. I think Rob was still alive when I last went to the Jeavonses’.’
These remarks, although displaying no great affection, were moderate enough, considering the tone in which Molly Jeavons herself had spoken of Frederica.
‘That was where I found Nicholas again,’ said Mrs. Conyers.
She proceeded to give some account of why they knew me. Frederica listened with attention, rather than interest, again recalling by her manner the checking of facts in the course of some official routine like going through the Customs or having one’s passport examined. Then she turned to me as if to obtain some final piece of necessary information.
‘Do you often go to the Jeavonses’?’ she asked.
The enquiry seemed to prepare the way to cross-questioning one returned from the remote interior of some little-known country after making an intensive study of the savage life existing there.
‘That was the first time. I was taken by Chips Lovell, whom I work with.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said vaguely. ‘He is some sort of a relation of Molly’s, isn’t he?’
She showed herself not at all positive about Lovell and his place in the world. This surprised me, as I had supposed she would know him, or at least know about him, pretty well. A moment later I wondered whether possibly she knew him, but pretended ignorance because she disapproved. Lovell was by no means universally liked. There were people who considered his behaviour far from impeccable. Frederica Budd might be one of these. A guarded attitude towards Lovell was only to be expected if Molly Jeavons was to be believed. At that moment the General spoke. He had been sitting in silence while we talked, quite happy silence, so it appeared, still pondering the matter of Widmerpool and his sister-in-law; or, more probably, his own rendering of Gounod and how it could be