At Lady Molly's - Anthony Powell [84]
I was fortunate enough already to have established myself to some small extent in Lady Warminster’s good graces by a book written a year or two before which she happened to have enjoyed, so that my own reception might have been a worse one. Even so, with a person of her sort that was not a matter upon which to presume. For a time we discussed affairs personal to Isobel and myself, and then, as soon as these could be politely, and quite kindly, dismissed, Lady Warminster gave a smile that showed plainly we should turn to more intriguing topics.
‘I think you are one of the few people, either in or out of the family, who have met Erridge lately,’ she said. ‘So that you must now tell me what you think about this trip of his to China.’
I assured her that I knew little or nothing of Erridge and his movements, but that the journey seemed a reasonable one for him to make in the light of his interests and way of life. I admitted that I had heard him discuss a visit to China.
‘I agree with you,’ she said. ‘Erridge is much too much by himself. He will not be alone on the voyage, I think, will he?’
That was not easy to answer. I did not wish, at this early stage in our relationship, to be detected telling, or, indeed, implying, a deliberate lie. I hoped equally to avoid revealing all that was known about Erridge and Mona, scanty as that might be. I said that I knew no details about the arrangements made by Erridge for his journey.
‘There are always plenty of people to talk to on boats,’ I suggested, with a sense of descending into banality of the most painful kind.
‘Of course,’ she said, as if that notion had never before been so well presented to her. ‘Do you like the sea?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Nor me,’ she said. ‘There is nothing I detest more than a sea voyage. But surely he is taking a secretary, or someone of that sort. I think he will. It will be so lonely otherwise. Especially as he is used to living by himself. You are never so lonely as when among a lot of people you do not know.’
It was impossible to tell whether the reference to ‘a secretary’ designated Mona, or some new figure in Erridge’s life; or was merelv a random shot to draw information.
‘I don’t think I know about a secretary.’
‘Perhaps I am mistaken. Someone may have said something cf the sort. What did you think of Thrubworth? Erridge does not take much interest in the house, I am afraid. Still less in the grounds.’
‘I commented on Thrubworth and its surroundings, again aware that banality had not been avoided. Lady War minster sighed. She moved her thin, pale hands, covered with a network of faint blue veins, lightly over the surface of a cushion.
‘You were staying in the neighbourhood, I think.’
‘Yes.’
‘Not, by any chance, with the writer, J. G. Quiggin?’
‘Yes—with J. G. Quiggin. I have known him a long time. Do you read his articles?’
‘I was so interested when I heard Erridge had him living in that cottage. I enjoy Mr. Quiggin’s reviews so much, even when I do not agree with them. They have not been appearing lately.’
‘No. I haven’t seen any of them lately.’
‘Is there a Mrs. Quiggin?’
‘Yes, she —’
‘But I do not know why I am asking you this, because Susan and Isobel told me how they met you and the Quiggins, both of them, at Thrubworth. She is a great beauty, is she not?