Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [57]
‘Do you so?’ the merchant said at last. He had come from business and was still in outdoor attire, full-skirted cotton summer coat, buff waistcoat, old-fashioned wig with a roll of curls above the ears. ‘And she, how does she view the matter?’
‘I think she is not averse to me.’
‘Is that a way of saying there is already an understanding between you?’
The question was deliberately disingenuous; he knew already of the young man’s interest: it had been expressed to him by Sarah herself. And he knew to what extent the girl had responded. But Erasmus’s hasty manner inclined him to temporize, partly from the long habit of bargaining, partly because he had been roused to some hostility by it. ‘I am asking if you have spoken together,’ he said rather sharply.
‘There is no understanding, sir,’ Erasmus said. ‘But she has given me reason to hope.’
Wolpert considered for some moments. Though phlegmatic in manner, he was acute, particularly where it concerned him nearly. His daughter was a source of delight to him and he treasured her deeply. There was no timidity in the bearing of the young man before him, no personal deference towards himself. This first suitor of his daughter was no doubt suffering, but it seemed from arrogance as much as love. He had known Erasmus for many years, had seen him from time to time as he grew up. It was with a feeling of surprise now that he met the dark eyes and realized that the youth had become formidable. ‘How old are you now, Erasmus?’ he said.
‘I shall be twenty-two in December, sir.’
‘You have spoken of this with your father, of course?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Wolpert permitted himself a smile. Erasmus was the only son and he knew the extent of Kemp’s ambitions for him. ‘And how did he take it? With a pinch of salt, I suppose, eh?’
‘He has given his consent.’
‘Aye, I dare say so.’ Wolpert was still smiling. ‘Why would he not? But as a distant prospect, no doubt? He will want to keep you by him some time yet.’
‘No, sir, he has made no condition regarding the time.’ Erasmus had great pride of family and as far as he had pondered his father’s response, apart from his own relief at it, it had seemed to him like a condescension to the Wolperts, something they ought to be pleased at. But now he saw the indulgent smile on the heavy face fade quickly, and for a space of some moments he found the older man’s eyes turned upon him as they might have been on some not fully trusted associate – not unfriendly exactly, but appraising and rather cold.
‘How?’ Wolpert said in a quieter tone. ‘Are you saying your father has given immediate consent to the match?’
‘I have said so,’ Erasmus returned, rather brusquely.
Wolpert appeared to muse for some moments, then he said, ‘Listen well to me, my fine young man. My daughter is not yet eighteen years of age. She is too young to be saddled with promises. You may say to her what you like and she may answer you as she pleases – I cannot be present at it, so I can have nothing to say about it. But I will countenance no special arrangements, at least for the time being. You may continue to see my daughter as you see her now, as a friend among other friends. She will be eighteen in some months, then we shall reconsider.’
Rising to terminate the interview he caught a blaze from the young man’s eyes such as might have been reserved for a rival. ‘I expect you to abide by this on our words and my wishes alone,’ he said with an involuntary response of severity. ‘And I will make both known to my daughter.’
This he did, in gentle terms, and had an impression the girl was relieved at it. That same evening he consulted his wife, who had been aware of the situation for some considerable time, he now discovered, and who had sounded the girl in ways that would not have entered his head. Of the strength of the young man’s feelings there could be no doubt. ‘He cannot keep his eyes off the girl,’ Mrs Wolpert said placidly. ‘He watches her every movement.’ Embroidery in lap, eyes mild, hair tucked under her close-fitting lace coif, she seemed at a long remove from