Books Do Furnish a Room - Anthony Powell [33]
‘I’ll have a further word with Bagshaw,’ he said. ‘Then he or I will get in touch with you.’
Siegfried entered with a large teapot. He set it on one of the tables, made a sign to Frederica, and, without waiting for further instructions, began to organize those present into some sort of a queue. Frederica, now given opportunity to form a more coherent impression of Widmerpool’s wife and her temperament, addressed herself with cold firmness to the three of them.
‘Won’t you have some tea ?’
That broke it up. Siegfried remarshalled the party. Hugo took on Pamela. Widmerpool and Roddy Cutts, left once more together, returned to the principles of hire-purchase. Alfred Tolland, wandering about in the background, seemed unhappy again. I handed him a cup of tea. He embarked once more on one of his new unwonted bursts of talkativeness.
‘I’m glad about Mrs Widmerpool… glad she found her way … the foreign manservant here … whoever he is, I mean to say … they’re lucky to have a … footman … these days… hall-boy, perhaps … anyhow he looked after Mrs Widmerpool properly, I was relieved to find… Confess I like that quiet sort of girl. Do hope she’s better. I’m a bit worried about the train though. We’ll have to be pushing off soon.’
‘You’ll have time for a cup of tea.’
‘Please, this way,’ said Siegfried.’ Please, this way now.’
He managed to break up most of the existing conversations.
‘Just like Erry to find that goon,’ said Hugo. ‘He’s worse than Smith, the butler who drank so much, and raised such hell at Aunt Molly’s.’
In Siegfried’s reorganization of the company, Gypsy was placed next to me, the first opportunity to speak with her. All things considered, she might have been more friendly in manner, though her old directness remained.
‘Is this the first time you’ve been here?’
‘No.’
That was at any rate evidence of a sort that she had visited Erridge on his home ground at least once; whether with or without Craggs, or similar escort, was not revealed.
‘Who’s that Mrs Widmerpool?’
To describe Pamela to Gypsy was no lesser problem than the definition of Gypsy to Pamela. Again no answer was required, Gypsy supplying that herself.
‘A first-class little bitch,’ she said.
Craggs joined his wife.
‘JG and I have completed what arrangements can be made at present. We may as well be going, unless you want another cup of tea, Gypsy?’
The way he spoke was respectful, almost timorous.
‘The sooner I get out, the better I’ll be pleased.’
‘Ought to thank for the cupper, I suppose.’
Craggs looked round the room. Frederica, as it turned out, had gone to fetch some testamentary document for Widmerpool’s inspection. While they had been speaking Roddy Cutts took the opportunity of slipping away and standing by Pamela, who was listening to a story Hugo was telling about his antique shop. She ignored Roddy, who, seeing his wife’s eye on him, drifted away again. Widmerpool drummed his fingers against the window frame while he waited. Until Roddy’s arrival in her neighbourhood, Pamela had given the appearance of being fairly amenable to Hugo’s line of talk. Now she put her hand to her forehead and turned away from him. She went quickly over to Widmerpool and spoke. The words, like his answer, were not audible, but she raised her voice angrily at whatever he had said.
‘I tell you I’m feeling faint again.’
‘All right. We’ll go the minute I get this paper – what is that, my dear Tolland? – yes, of course we’re taking you in the taxi. I was just saying to my wife that we’re leaving the moment I’ve taken charge of a document Lady Frederica’s finding for me.’
He spoke absently, his mind evidently on business matters. Pamela made further protests. Widmerpool turned to Siegfried, who was arranging the cups, most of them odd ones, in order of size at the back of the table.