Dodie Smith - I Capture the Castle

Simon, and Topaz and I slipped out to bring the tea in. Neil kindly

came after us saying he would carry things.

We stood round the kitchen fire waiting for the kettle to boil.

"Doesn't your Mother really know Rose was the bear ?" I asked.

"Gosh, no-that wouldn't do at all," he said, "it isn't her kind of joke. Anyway, it wouldn't be fair to your sister."

I did see that, of course I Mrs. Cotton would have wondered why on

earth Rose was running away. (i suppose Neil guesses it was because

she felt they had dropped us. Dear me, how embarrassing!) "But I can't see how anyone could believe that you killed the bear with a

pitchfork," I said.

"I didn't. I only wounded it- badly, I think, but not enough to put it out of action. It came blundering towards me, I stepped aside and it

crashed head-first into the river- I could hear it threshing about in the darkness. I picked up a big stone-poor brute, I hated to do it but I had to finish it off. It gave just one groan as the stone hit it and then went down. I held the lantern high; I could see the bubbles

coming up. And then I saw the dark bulk of it under the water, being

carried along by the current."

"But you didn't have a lantern," I said.

"He didn't have a bear," said Topaz.

For a moment I had almost believed him myself--and felt most

desperately sorry for the bear. No wonder Mrs.

Cotton has been deceived.

"Mother made us go over to compensate the circus owner this morning,"

he went on, grinning.

"It's just a midget of a circus-he didn't have any bears at all, as a matter of fact; but he said he'd be delighted to back our story up- he hoped it might get him a bit of publicity. I tried to buy one of his

lions but he wouldn't sell."

"What did you want a lion for ?" I asked.

"Oh, they were kind of cute," he said vaguely.

Then the kettle boiled and we took the tea in.

After Neil had helped to hand things round, he went and sat by Rose on the window-seat. And Simon came and talked to Topaz politely. Father

and Mrs. Cotton were still interrupting each other happily. It was

fascinating to watch them all, but the conversations cancelled each

other out so that I couldn't listen to any of them. I was anxious

about Rose. I could see she was letting Neil do most of the talking,

which was excellent; but she didn't seem to be listening to him, which was not so good. She kept leaning out of the window to feed the swans.

Neil looked a bit puzzled.

Then I noticed that Simon kept watching her, and after a while she

caught his eye and gave him a smile. Neil shot a quick glance at her, then got up and asked Topaz for some more tea (though I noticed he

didn't drink it). Simon went over to Rose. She still didn't say much, but she looked as if everything he said was terrifically interesting. I caught a word here and there, he was telling her about Scoatney Hall. I heard her say: "No, I've never seen the inside." He said: "But you must, of course. We were hoping you'd dine with us one night next

week." Then he turned to Mrs. Cotton and she invited us. There was an awful moment when I thought I was going to be left out because she said: "Is Cassandra old enough for dinner parties ?" but Neil said

"You bet she is!" and it was all right.

Oh, I do like Neil! When they went, I walked up the lane with him;

Father was with Mrs. Cotton, and Rose with Simon. Neil asked how we

would get over to Scoatney and when I said we should have to think that out, he arranged to send the car for us. He is the kindest person

-though as we passed the barn I remembered how very far from kind he

was about Rose that day. Perhaps one ought never to count things one

overhears. Anyway, it was Simon who said I was consciously naive--Neil said I was a cute kid; it's not exactly the way I see myself, but it

was kindly meant.

As we walked back to the castle Father said how nice they all were,

then asked if we had dresses for the party. I had been worrying about this myself, but I said:

"Oh, Topaz will manage something."

"Could anything of Aunt Millicent's be altered his If not- damn it, there must be something we can sell--" He gave me a humble, appealing sort of look. I put my arm through his and said quickly:

"We'll be all right." He looked tentatively at Rose. She was smiling faintly to herself. I don't think she had heard a word we had said.

When we went in, Topaz was washing up the tea-things.

"Mortmain, you deserve a medal," she said.

"What for?" said Father.

"Oh, for talking to Mrs.

Cotton? I enjoyed it very much."

Topaz simply stared at him.

"I got used to the vitality of American women when I was over there,"

he explained.

"Do they all talk as much as that?" I asked.

"No, of course not. But she happens to belong to a type I frequently met--it goes to lectures. And entertains afterwards-sometimes they put one up for the night; they're extraordinarily hospitable." He sat on the kitchen table, swinging his legs, looking rather boyish.

"Amazing, their energy," he went on.

"They're perfectly capable of having three or four children, running a house, keeping abreast of art, literature and music-superficially of

course but, good lord, that's something--and holding down a job into

the bargain. Some of them get through two or three husbands as well,

just to avoid stagnation."

"I shouldn't think any husband could stay the course for more than a few years," said Topaz.

"I felt that myself at first--the barrage of talk left me utterly depleted. But after a time I got used to it.

They're rather like punch balls -you buffet them, they buffet you, and on the whole the result's most stimulating."

"Unless they knock you out altogether," said Topaz, drily.

"They have that effect occasionally," Father admitted.

"Quite a number of American men are remarkably silent."

"She seemed to know a lot about Jacob Wrestling," I said.

"She'd probably read it up before she came--they do that, and very civil of them. Curious how many of them are prematurely gray; most

becoming. And I must say it's a pleasure to see a woman so well

turned-out."

He began to hum abstractedly and went off to the gatehouse as if he had suddenly forgotten all about us. I could have slapped him for that

"well turned-out" remark, because Topaz was looking so particularly far from well turned-out. She was wearing her hand woven dress which is

first cousin to a sack and her lovely hair, being rather in need of a wash, was pushed into a torn old net.

"Perhaps he'd find it stimulating if I talked as much as that," she said.

"We shouldn't," I told her. Actually, I had thought Mrs. Cotton very stimulating myself, but had no intention of being so tactless as to say so.

"Topaz, will there be moths in his evening clothes his He can't have worn them since Aunt Millicent's parties."

But she said she had taken care of them.

"We'll have to get him some studs, though, because he sold his good ones. Oh, Cassandra, it's fantastic- a genius, a man American critics write essays on, and he hasn't a decent stud to his name."

I said many geniuses had lacked shirts to put the studs in; then we got talking about our own clothes for the party.

I am all right--my white, school Speech Day frock will pass for anyone as young as I am, Topaz says. And she can fix up one of her old

evening dresses for herself. Rose is the problem.

"There's not a thing of your aunt's I can use for her," said Topaz,

"and nothing of my own is suitable. She needs something frilly. As we'll never be able to stop her turning on the Early Victorian charm, we ought to accentuate it."

I could hear Rose playing the piano. I closed the kitchen door and

said: "What did you think of her manner today ?"

"At least it was quieter, though she was still making eyes. But, anyway, it doesn't matter now."

1 looked at her in astonishment and she went on:

"Simon Cotton's attracted--really attracted--couldn't you see?

Once that happens, a girl can be as silly as she likes--the man'll

probably think the silliness is fetching."

"Is Neil attracted, too ?"

"I doubt it," said Topaz.

"I've an idea that Neil sees through her -- I saw him give her a very shrewd look.

Oh, how are we going to dress her, Cassandra his There's a chance for her with Simon, really there isI know the signs."

I had a sudden picture of Simon's face, pale above the beard.

"But would you really like her to marry him, Topaz?" I asked.

"I'd like her to get the chance," said Topaz, firmly.

Miss Marcy arrived then with a book for Father. She told us the Vicar has been invited for the same night as we have she heard from his

housekeeper.

"Most people have only been asked to lunches or teas," she said.

"Dinner's ever so much more splendid."

We told her about the problem of Rose's dress.

"It should be pink," she said, "a crinoline effect-there's the very thing here in this week's Home Chat."

She dived into her satchel for it.

"Oh, dear, that would be perfect for her," sighed Topaz.

Miss Marcy blushed and blinked her eyes, then said:

"Could you make it, Mrs. Mortmain? If--if dear Rose allowed me to give her the material?"

"I'll allow you," said Topaz.

"I feel justified."

Miss Marcy shot her a quick glance and Topaz gave her the very faintest nod. I nearly laughed--they were so different, Miss Marcy like a rosy little bird and Topaz tall and pale, like a slightly dead goddess, but just that second they so much resembled each other in their absolute

lust to marry Rose off.

"Perhaps we could offer Miss Marcy something of Aunt Millicent's as a small return," I suggested. They went off to the dining-room where the clothes are spread out, while I stayed to get Stephen his tea--Topaz

had decided that those of us who'd had afternoon tea would have supper with cocoa, later.

Stephen was worried to hear I shall be wearing such an old dress at

Scoatney.

"Couldn't you have a new sash?" he asked.

"I've got some money saved."

I thanked him but said my blue Speech Day sash was as good as new.

"Then a ribbon for your hair, Miss Cassandra ?"

"Goodness, I haven't worn a hair-ribbon since I was a child," I told him.

"You used to have little bows on the ends of your plaits before you cut your hair," he said.

"They were pretty."

Then he asked how I liked the two Cottons, now I knew them better.

"Oh, I don't know Simon at all--he talked to Rose most of the time. But Neil's very nice."

"Would you call him handsome ?"

I said I hardly thought so--"Not really handsome--not the way you are, Stephen."

I spoke without thinking--we all of us take his good looks for granted; but he blushed so much that I wished I hadn't said it.

"You see, you have classical features," I explained, in a matter-of fact voice.

"It seems a waste when I'm not a gentleman."

He grinned--a little sarcastic sort of grin.

"Don't talk like that," I said quickly.

"Gentlemen are men who behave like gentlemen. And you certainly do."

He shook his head.

"You can only be a gentleman if you're born one, Miss Cassandra."

"Stephen, that's old-fashioned nonsense," I said.

"Really, it is.

And, by the way, will you please stop calling me "Miss" Cassandra."

He looked astonished. Then he said: "Yes, I see. It should be "Miss Mortmain" now you're grown up enough for dinner parties."

"It certainly shouldn't," I said.