At Lady Molly's - Anthony Powell [94]
He spoke without great conviction, gazing for a time at the object in his open palm. Then he returned it to his coat pocket, fumbling about for some time, and at last bringing out a tattered packet of Gold Flake. He nicked up one of the cigarettes with his thumb, and offered it to each of us in turn.
‘Well,’ he said to me, ‘so you are going to get married.’
Members watched him with absolute horror. Jeavons, I was sure, was wholly unaware of the poor impression he was making. Members could stand it no longer.
‘I think I must go now,’ he said. ‘I have another party I have to look in on. It was kind of Lady Molly and yourself to ask me.’
‘Not at all,’ said Jeavons. ‘Glad to see you. Come again.’
He watched Members leave the room, as if he had never before seen anyone at all like him. His cigarette remained unlighted in his mouth.
‘Odd bloke,’ he said. ‘I feel shocking this afternoon. Had too much lunch. Red in the face. Distended stomach. Self-inflicted wounds, of course.’
We talked together for a minute or two. Then Jeavons wandered off among the guests. By then General and Mrs. Conyers had arrived. I went across the room to speak to them.
They had come up from the country the day before. After making the conventional remarks about my engagement, Mrs. Conyers was removed by Molly to be introduced to some new acquaintance of hers. I was left with the General. He seemed in excellent form, although at the same time giving the impression that he was restless about something: had a problem on his mind. All at once he took me by the arm. ‘I want a word with you, Nicholas,’ he said, in his deep, though always unexpectedly mild, voice. ‘Can’t we get out of this damned, milling crowd of people for a minute or two?’
The Jeavonses’guests habitually flowed into every room in the house, so that to retire to talk, for example in Molly’s bedroom, or Jeavons’s dressing-room, would be considered not at all unusual. We moved, in fact, a short way up the stairs into a kind of boudoir of Molly’s, constricted in space and likely to attract only people who wanted to enjoy a heart-to-heart talk together: a place chiefly given over to cats, two or three of which sat in an ill-humoured group at angles to one another, stirring with disapproval at this invasion of their privacy. I had no idea what the General could wish to say, even speculating for an instant as to whether he was about to offer some piece of advice—too confidential and esoteric to risk being overheard—regarding the conduct of married life. The period of engagement is one when you are at the mercy of all who wish to proffer counsel, and experience already prepared me for the worst. The truth turned out to be more surprising.
As soon as we were alone together, the General sat down on a chair in front of the writing-table, straightening out his leg painfully. It still seemed to be giving trouble. Alone with him, I became aware of that terrible separateness which difference of age imposes between individuals. Perhaps feeling something of this burden himself, he began at first to speak of his own advancing years.
‘I’m beginning to find all this standing about at Buck House a bit of a strain,’ he said. ‘Not so young as I was. Dropped my eyeglass not so long ago in one of the anterooms at St. James’s and had to get a fellow who was standing beside me to pick it up for me. Secretary from the Soviet Embassy. Perfectly civil. Just couldn’t get down that far myself. Afraid I’d drop my axe too, if I tried. Still, although I’m getting on in life, I’ve had a good run for my money. Seen some odd things at one time or another.’
He moved his leg again, and groaned a bit. I always had the impression that he liked talking about his appearances at Court.
‘I’m a great believer in people knowing the truth,’ he said. ‘Always have been.’
Without seeing at all clearly where this maxim would lead us, I agreed that truth was best.
‘Something happened