CHAPTER NINE

TheCountessofRocksbiersatattheheadofthetablealonewithJacob.Feduponchampagneandspicesforatleasttwocenturies(four,ifyoucountthefemaleline),theCountessLucylookedwellfed.Adiscriminatingnoseshehadforscents,prolonged,asifinquestofthemherunderlipprotrudedanarrowredshelfhereyesweresmall,withsandytuftsforeyebrows,andherjowlwasheavy.Behindher(thewindowlookedonGrosvenorSquare)stoodMollPrattonthepavement,offeringvioletsforsaleandMrs.HildaThomas,liftingherskirts,preparingtocrosstheroad.OnewasfromWalworththeotherfromPutney.Bothworeblackstockings,butMrs.Thomaswascoiledinfurs.ThecomparisonwasmuchinLadyRocksbier'sfavour.Mollhadmorehumour,butwasviolentstupidtoo.HildaThomaswasmealy-mouthed,allhersilverframesaslantegg-cupsinthedrawing-roomandthewindowsshrouded.LadyRocksbier,whateverthedeficienciesofherprofile,hadbeenagreatridertohounds.Sheusedherknifewithauthority,toreherchickenbones,askingJacob'spardon,withherownhands. "Whoisthatdrivingby?"sheaskedBoxall,thebutler. "LadyFirtlemere'scarriage,mylady,"whichremindedhertosendacardtoaskafterhislordship'shealth.Arudeoldlady,Jacobthought.Thewinewasexcellent.Shecalledherself"anoldwoman"—"sokindtolunchwithanoldwoman"—whichflatteredhim.ShetalkedofJosephChamberlain,whomshehadknown.ShesaidthatJacobmustcomeandmeet—oneofourcelebrities.AndtheLadyAlicecameinwiththreedogsonaleash,andJackie,whorantokisshisgrandmother,whileBoxallbroughtinatelegram,andJacobwasgivenagoodcigar. Afewmomentsbeforeahorsejumpsitslows,sidles,gathersitselftogether,goesuplikeamonsterwave,andpitchesdownonthefurtherside.Hedgesandskyswoopinasemicircle.Thenasifyourownbodyranintothehorse'sbodyanditwasyourownforelegsgrownwithhisthatsprang,rushingthroughtheairyougo,thegroundresilient,bodiesamassofmuscles,yetyouhavecommandtoo,uprightstillness,eyesaccuratelyjudging.Thenthecurvescease,changingtodownrighthammerstrokes,whichjarandyoudrawupwithajoltsittingbackalittle,sparkling,tingling,glazedwithiceoverpoundingarteries,gasping:"Ah!ho!Hah!"thesteamgoingupfromthehorsesastheyjostletogetheratthecross-roads,wherethesignpostis,andthewomanintheapronstandsandstaresatthedoorway.Themanraiseshimselffromthecabbagestostaretoo. SoJacobgallopedoverthefieldsofEssex,floppedinthemud,lostthehunt,androdebyhimselfeatingsandwiches,lookingoverthehedges,noticingthecoloursasifnewscraped,cursinghisluck. HehadteaattheInnandtheretheyallwere,slapping,stamping,saying,"Afteryou,"clipped,curt,jocose,redasthewattlesofturkeys,usingfreespeechuntilMrs.HorsefieldandherfriendMissDuddingappearedatthedoorwaywiththeirskirtshitchedup,andhairloopingdown.ThenTomDuddingrappedatthewindowwithhiswhip.Amotorcarthrobbedinthecourtyard.Gentlemen,feelingformatches,movedout,andJacobwentintothebarwithBrandyJonestosmokewiththerustics.TherewasoldJevonswithoneeyegone,andhisclothesthecolourofmud,hisbagoverhisback,andhisbrainslaidfeetdowninearthamongthevioletrootsandthenettlerootsMarySanderswithherboxofwoodandTomsentforbeer,thehalf-wittedsonofthesexton—allthiswithinthirtymilesofLondon. Mrs.Papworth,ofEndellStreet,CoventGarden,didforMr.BonamyinNewSquare,Lincoln'sInn,andasshewashedupthedinnerthingsinthescullerysheheardtheyounggentlementalkingintheroomnextdoor.Mr.SanderswasthereagainFlandersshemeantandwhereaninquisitiveoldwomangetsanamewrong,whatchanceistherethatshewillfaithfullyreportanargument?Assheheldtheplatesunderwaterandthendealtthemonthepilebeneaththehissinggas,shelistened:heardSandersspeakinginaloudratheroverbearingtoneofvoice:"good,"hesaid,and"absolute"and"justice"and"punishment,"and"thewillofthemajority."ThenhergentlemanpipedupshebackedhimforargumentagainstSanders.YetSanderswasafineyoungfellow(hereallthescrapswentswirlingroundthesink,scouredafterbyherpurple,almostnaillesshands)."Women"—shethought,andwonderedwhatSandersandhergentlemandidinTHATline,oneeyelidsinkingperceptiblyasshemused,forshewasthemotherofnine—threestill-bornandonedeafanddumbfrombirth.PuttingtheplatesintheracksheheardoncemoreSandersatitagain("Hedon'tgiveBonamyachance,"shethought)."Objectivesomething,"saidBonamyand"commonground"andsomethingelse—allverylongwords,shenoted."Booklearningdoesit,"shethoughttoherself,and,asshethrustherarmsintoherjacket,heardsomething—mightbethelittletablebythefire—fallandthenstamp,stamp,stamp—asiftheywerehavingateachother—roundtheroom,makingtheplatesdance. "To-morrow'sbreakfast,sir,"shesaid,openingthedoorandtherewereSandersandBonamyliketwobullsofBashandrivingeachotherupanddown,makingsucharacket,andallthemchairsintheway.Theynevernoticedher.Shefeltmotherlytowardsthem."Yourbreakfast,sir,"shesaid,astheycamenear.AndBonamy,allhishairtouzledandhistieflying,brokeoff,andpushedSandersintothearm-chair,andsa