"I understand that you like your independence," said Frances. "You might like to come to see us at the Mission."
"I intended to invite myself if you didn't ask me," I said.
"My dear, there is no need to wait for invitations, is there, Peterkin?"
"Of course there is not. We'd love to see you there. We might even make use of you."
"There is always a great deal to do," explained Frances, "especially now we have enlarged the place considerably. We have the house next door now which has made us almost double the size. We have big kitchens. We make gallons of soup each day, don't we, Peterkin? Good nourishing stuff. We're always looking for someone to give a hand."
"Most of our workers," Peterkin explained, "work because they believe in what we are doing. So we have to have most people of independent means. We can't afford to pay many people. We need all the money we can get for the work."
"I know you have done wonders."
"A lot has been due to my generous father-in-law," said Frances. "He is very helpful, particularly when there is some political crisis and he wants to call attention to the family's good works. Matthew benefits from it. And all he asks is that it is known where the help comes from. A small price to pay for the goods, as I always say."
Frances was a little cynical about Uncle Peter. I knew there was always a motive behind almost everything he did—but he did give the money to the Mission which had made a great deal of difference to it.
"Well, do come along, soon," said Frances.
And I promised I would.
Dinner was a sparkling occasion. Ben, from the top of the table, led the conversation which was amusing, witty and topical, and there were many references to what was going on in the political field. Many of them seemed to be on intimate terms with "Dizzy" and Mr. Gladstone and Her Majesty herself. There were references to the Queen's gillie, John Brown, who, some thought, was more than her gillie; they talked of the rather scandalous cartoons appearing in the press, and speculated as to whether the sly gossip would bring the Queen out of her retirement.
I noticed that Grace joined in the conversation and seemed to be as knowledgeable as any of them. Lizzie said hardly a word. She sat at the end of the table, opposite Ben, an unwilling hostess. She looked at times as though she were going to burst into tears and I noticed how often her eyes strayed to Grace, who was seated a pace or two away from her. But Grace was engaged in animated conversation and did not look poor Lizzie's way.
I wished I was nearer to her so that I could talk to her.
I was very much aware of Ben. There he sat at the head of the table so assured, certain that very soon he would be in Parliament. All he needed was an election. I felt he was certain to win.
Once or twice he caught my eyes and smiled at me. I think he guessed what was in my thoughts. I had a stupid impression that he was doing all this for my benefit ... reminding me that he was the kind of person who always won.
After dinner the ladies went to the drawing room, leaving the men at the table with the port.
I saw Lizzie then and I said: "It was a most successful party, Lizzie."
"Yes," she said.
Then Grace came up.
"You were very good, Lizzie," she said.
"Was I?" asked Lizzie.
"Oh yes. It's getting easier, isn't it? Isn't it lovely to have Angelet here?"
"You've been living in the country, haven't you?" said Lizzie.
"Yes ... with my parents."
"That must have been nice."
"Very nice."
"I hope I shall see the dear little baby."
"Oh, you mustn't call Rebecca a baby. She wouldn't like that. She's a little girl now and wants everyone to know it."
Lizzie laughed delightedly and the furrow disappeared from her brow.
I said: "Pedrek is the same. He's quite a little man. They play together. They love the parks. I'll bring them to see you sometime. May I?"
"Oh please do."
Before the men returned Lizzie took me up to her bedroom. There was a special room set aside for the ladies, but she took me to hers. I fancied she wanted to speak to me alone.
I could see that this was not in any sense Ben's room. So they occupied separate rooms, I thought.
She said: "It's nearly over now, isn't it?"
"Nearly over?"
"This evening."
"Oh yes. We shall soon be gone and you will have your lovely house all to yourselves."
"I didn't mean that."
She looked at me and suddenly flung her arms about me, starting to cry.
"Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie," I said, "what is it? Don't cry, there's a dear. It will make your eyes red ... and you wouldn't want people to see."
"Oh no ... no ..." She began to tremble.
I helped her dry her eyes. "What's wrong, Lizzie?" I asked gently.
"I ... I want to go home ... I'm no good at this. I shouldn't have come."
"You mean meeting all these people?"
"I don't know what to say to them. Grace tells me ... and I say something ... but I don't know what to do next. I'll never know. I'm just not clever like they are. I know Ben wishes he hadn't married me."
"Has he said so?" I demanded sharply.
She shook her head. "But I know."
"Isn't he ... kind to you?"
"Oh, he's very kind ... he's always kind ... He's patient ... You see he has to be patient. He ought to have married Grace."
I wanted to say: But she could not bring him a gold mine. But what I did say was: "He married you, Lizzie, because he wanted to."
"I think my father persuaded him."
Poor Lizzie. I was overcome with pity for her. I felt I hated Ben then. He had found the gold in the creek that day ... kept it secret, tried to buy the land, and when he couldn't he had married Lizzie and thrust her into a life for which she was most unsuited.
"All this, Lizzie, this entertaining and meeting people ... It's not important really."
"Oh it is ... It is to Ben. It's because he's going into Parliament. Then it will be worse. I'll never be able to do that. I try ..."
"You do very well ..."
"I'm not clever ... I'm not clever enough for Ben."
"Men don't like clever women, you know."
She stared at me.
"No," I elaborated. "They like to think they are the clever ones. I know some clever women who pretend to be less clever ... so that the men like them."
She shook her head. "You're trying to comfort me," she said. "Oh, Angelet, it's so hard. I worry."
"You mustn't, Lizzie."
"Grace has been so good. But she is not there all the time. She helps me. She tells me what to wear and what to say ... but I still don't do it right. I can't sleep at night. I lie awake thinking about it and wishing I was back and Dad was alive and nothing had changed."
"Oh, Lizzie, you mustn't feel that. You are married to Ben and you can see how highly thought-of he is."
"That's what troubles me. I ought not to have married Ben."
"But, Lizzie, you are married to him. Think that without you he would not have all this. You brought him the mine, didn't you? He owes a great deal to you. I am sure he knows that. You see, you are not looking at this clearly. Do you love him?"
She nodded.
"Well then, everything will be all right."
"I have Grace ... and now you. I can't sleep though. I feel better when I do. Grace got something for me to make me sleep."
"Oh, what was it?"
"I've forgotten the name. It's on the bottle. I'll show you."
She opened a drawer and took out a bottle.
"Laudanum," I said aghast.
"It's good, Angelet. It makes me sleep. You mustn't take more than it says or you would get too sleepy."
"Perhaps you should see a doctor. Ask his advice about taking this stuff."
She shrank. "I couldn't do that. I'm not ill. I just get worried and then I can't sleep. I feel better when I take this. I sleep and sleep. Then I wake up and feel better. Things always seem different in the mornings."