Miss Mapp by E. F. Benson (best free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📗

she did not think it would be wise to trust too much to chivalry. Still, even if they did carry out their unmanly menace, nobody would seriously believe that she had been drunk. But they might make a very disagreeable joke of pretending to do so, and, in a word, the prospect frightened her. Whatever Tilling did or did not believe, a residuum of ridicule would assuredly cling to her, and her reputation of having perhaps been the cause of the quarrel which, so happily did not end in a duel, would be lost for ever. Evie would squeak, quaint Irene would certainly burst into hoarse laughter when she heard the story. It was very inconvenient that honesty should be the best policy.

Her brain still violently active switched off for a moment[201] on to the eternal problem of the portmanteau. Why, so she asked herself for the hundredth time, if the portmanteau contained the fatal apparatus of duelling, did not the combatants accompany it? And if (the only other alternative) it did not——?

An idea so luminous flashed across her brain that she almost thought the room had leaped into light. The challenge distinctly said that Major Benjy’s seconds would wait upon Captain Puffin in the course of the morning. With what object then could the former have gone down to the station to catch the early train? There could be but one object, namely to get away as quickly as possible from the dangerous vicinity of the challenged Captain. And why did Captain Puffin leave that note on his table to say that he was suddenly called away, except in order to escape from the ferocious neighbourhood of his challenger?

“The cowards!” ejaculated Miss Mapp. “They both ran away from each other! How blind I’ve been!”

The veil was rent. She perceived how, carried away with the notion that a duel was to be fought among the sand-dunes, Tilling had quite overlooked the significance of the early train. She felt sure that she had solved everything now, and gave herself up to a rapturous consideration of what use she would make of the precious solution. All regrets for the impossibility of ruining the character of Captain Puffin with regard to intoxicants were gone, for she had an even deadlier blacking to hand. No faintest hesitation at ruining the reputation of Major Benjy as well crossed her mind; she gloried in it, for he had not only caused her to deceive herself about the early hours on alternate nights, but by his infamous willingness to back up Captain Puffin’s bargain, he had shown himself[202] imperviously waterproof to all chivalrous impulses. For weeks now the sorry pair of them had enjoyed the spurious splendours of being men of blood and valour, when all the time they had put themselves to all sorts of inconvenience in catching early trains and packing bags by candle-light in order to escape the hot impulses of quarrel that, as she saw now, were probably derived from drained whisky-bottles. That mysterious holloaing about worm-casts was just such another disagreement. And, crowning rapture of all, her own position as cause of the projected duel was quite unassailed. Owing to her silence about drink, no one would suspect a mere drunken brawl: she would still figure as heroine, though the heroes were terribly dismantled. To be sure, it would have been better if their ardour about her had been such that one of them, at the least, had been prepared to face the ordeal, that they had not both preferred flight, but even without that she had much to be thankful for. “It will serve them both,” said Miss Mapp (interrupted by a sneeze, for she had been sitting up in bed for quite a considerable time), “right.”

To one of Miss Mapp’s experience, the first step of her new and delightful strategic campaign was obvious, and she spent hardly any time at all in the window of her garden-room after breakfast next morning, but set out with her shopping-basket at an unusually early hour. She shuddered as she passed between the front doors of her miscreant neighbours, for the chill of last night’s mist and its dreadful memories still lingered there, but her present errand warmed her soul even as the tepid November day comforted her body. No sign of life was at present evident in those bibulous abodes, no qui-his had indicated breakfast, and she put her utmost irony into[203] the reflection that the United Services slept late after their protracted industry last night over diaries and Roman roads. By a natural revulsion, violent in proportion to the depth of her previous regard for Major Benjy, she hugged herself more closely on the prospect of exposing him than on that of exposing the other. She had had daydreams about Major Benjy and the conversion of these into nightmares annealed her softness into the semblance of some red-hot stone, giving vengeance a concentrated sweetness as of saccharine contrasted with ordinary lump sugar. This sweetness was of so powerful a quality that she momentarily forgot all about the contents of Withers’s letter on the kitchen table, and tripped across to Mr. Hopkins’s with an oblivious smile for him.

“Good morning, Mr. Hopkins,” she said. “I wonder if you’ve got a nice little dab for my dinner to-day? Yes? Will you send it up then, please? What a mild morning, like May!”

The opening move, of course, was to tell Diva about the revelation that had burst on her the night before. Diva was incomparably the best disseminator of news: she walked so fast, and her telegraphic style was so brisk and lucid. Her terse tongue, her revolving feet! Such a gossip!

“Diva darling, I had to look in a moment,” said Elizabeth, pecking her affectionately on both cheeks. “Such a bit of news!”

“Oh, Contessa di Faradidleony,” said Diva sarcastically. “I heard yesterday. Journey put off.”

Miss Mapp just managed to stifle the excitement which would have betrayed that this was news to her.

“No, dear, not that,” she said. “I didn’t suspect you of not knowing that. Unfortunate though, isn’t it, just[204] when we were all beginning to believe that there was a Contessa di Faradidleony! What a sweet name! For my part I shall believe in her when I see her. Poor Mr. Wyse!”

“What’s the news then?” asked Diva.

“My dear, it all came upon me in a flash,” said Elizabeth. “It explains the portmanteau and the early train and the duel.”

Diva looked disappointed. She thought this was to be some solid piece of news, not one of Elizabeth’s ideas only.

“Drive ahead,” she said.

“They ran away from each other,” said Elizabeth, mouthing her words as if speaking to a totally deaf person who understood lip-reading. “Never mind the cause of the duel: that’s another affair. But whatever the cause,” here she dropped her eyes, “the Major having sent the challenge packed his portmanteau. He ran away, dear Diva, and met Captain Puffin at the station running away too.”

“But did——” began Diva.

“Yes, dear, the note on Captain Puffin’s table to his housekeeper said he was called away suddenly. What called him away? Cowardice, dear! How ignoble it all is. And we’ve all been thinking how brave and wonderful they were. They fled from each other, and came back together and played golf. I never thought it was a game for men. The sand-dunes where they were supposed to be fighting! They might lose a ball there, but that would be the utmost. Not a life. Poor Padre! Going out there to stop a duel, and only finding a game of golf. But I understand the nature of men better now. What an eye-opener!”

Diva by this time was trundling away round the room,[205] and longing to be off in order to tell everybody. She could find no hole in Elizabeth’s arguments; it was founded as solidly as a Euclidean proposition.

“Ever occurred to you that they drink?” she asked. “Believe in Roman roads and diaries? I don’t.”

Miss Mapp bounded from her chair. Danger flags flapped and crimsoned in her face. What if Diva went flying round Tilling, suggesting that in addition to being cowards those two men were drunkards? They would, as soon as any hint of the further exposure reached them, conclude that she had set the idea on foot, and then——

“No, Diva darling,” she said, “don’t dream of imagining such a thing. So dangerous to hint anything of the sort. Cowards they may be, and indeed are, but never have I seen anything that leads me to suppose that they drink. We must give them their due, and stick to what we know; we must not launch accusations wildly about other matters, just because we know they are cowards. A coward need not be a drunkard, thank God! It is all miserable enough, as it is!”

Having averted this danger, Miss Mapp, with her radiant, excited face, seemed to be bearing all the misery very courageously, and as Diva could no longer be restrained from starting on her morning round they plunged together into the maelstrom of the High Street, riding and whirling in its waters with the solution of the portmanteau and the early train for life-buoy. Very little shopping was done that morning, for every permutation and combination of Tilling society (with the exception, of course, of the cowards) had to be formed on the pavement with a view to the amplest possible discussion. Diva, as might have been expected, gave proof of her accustomed perfidy before long, for she certainly gave the[206] Padre to understand that the chain of inductive reasoning was of her own welding and Elizabeth had to hurry after him to correct this grabbing impression; but the discovery in itself was so great, that small false notes like these could not spoil the glorious harmony. Even Mr. Wyse abandoned his usual neutrality with regard to social politics and left his tall malacca cane in the chemist’s, so keen was his gusto, on seeing Miss Mapp on the pavement outside, to glean any fresh detail of evidence.

By eleven o’clock that morning, the two duellists were universally known as “the cowards,” the Padre alone demurring, and being swampingly outvoted. He held (sticking up for his sex) that the Major had been brave enough to send a challenge (on whatever subject) to his friend, and had, though he subsequently failed to maintain that high level, shown courage of a high order, since, for all he knew, Captain Puffin might have accepted it. Miss Mapp was spokesman for the mind of Tilling on this too indulgent judgment.

“Dear Padre,” she said, “you are too generous altogether. They both ran away: you can’t get over that. Besides you must remember that, when the Major sent the challenge, he knew Captain Puffin, oh so well, and quite expected he would run away——”

“Then why did he run away himself?” asked the Padre.

This was rather puzzling for a moment, but Miss Mapp soon thought of the explanation.

“Oh, just to make sure,” she said, and Tilling applauded her ready irony.

And then came the climax of sensationalism, when at about ten minutes past eleven the two cowards emerged into the High Street on their way to catch the 11.20[207] tram out to the links. The day threatened rain, and they both carried bags which contained a change of clothes. Just round the corner of the High Street was the group which had applauded Miss Mapp’s quickness, and the cowards were among the breakers. They glanced at each other, seeing that Miss Mapp was the most towering of the breakers, but it was too late to retreat, and they made the usual salutations.

“Good morning,” said Diva, with her voice trembling. “Off to catch the early train together—I mean the tram.”

“Good morning, Captain Puffin,” said Miss Mapp with extreme sweetness. “What a nice little travelling bag! Oh, and the Major’s got one too! H’m!”

A certain dismay looked from Major Flint’s eyes, Captain Puffin’s mouth fell open, and he forgot to shut it.

“Yes; change of clothes,” said the Major. “It looks a threatening morning.”

“Very threatening,” said Miss Mapp. “I hope you will do nothing rash or dangerous.”

There was a moment’s silence, and the two looked from one face to another of this fell group. They all wore fixed, inexplicable smiles.

“It will be pleasant among the sand-dunes,” said the Padre, and his wife gave a loud squeak.

“Well, we shall be missing our tram,” said the Major. “Au—au reservoir, ladies.”

Nobody responded at all, and they hurried off down the street, their bags bumping together very inconveniently.

“Something’s up, Major,” said Puffin, with true Tilling perspicacity, as soon as they had got out of hearing…

Precisely at the same moment Miss Mapp gave a little cooing laugh.

[208] “Now I must run and do my bittie shopping, Padre,” she said, and kissed her hand all round… The curtain had to come down for a little while on so dramatic a