§ 13
Gervase’s feelings towards Alard being what they were, anybody might wonder he should think of giving up Oxford for the family’s sake. Indeed, he almost changed his mind in the throes of that wakeful, resentful night, and resolved to take his expensive way to Christ’s or Balliol. But by morning he had come to see himself more clearly and to laugh at his own pretences. He wasn’t “giving up” Oxford—he didn’t want to go there—he had always shrunk from the thought of Oxford life with its patterns and conventions—and then at the end of it he would still be his father’s youngest son, drawing a youngest son’s allowance from depleted coffers. He would far rather learn his job as an engineer and win an early independence. Going to his work every morning, meeting all sorts of men, rough and smooth, no longer feeling irrevocably shut up in a class, a cult, a tradition ... in that way he might really win freedom and defy the house of Alard. “My name’s Gervase Alard,” he said to himself—“and I’m damned if Gervase shall be sacrificed to Alard, for he’s the most important of the two.”
If only he could persuade his father to see as he saw—not quite, of course, but near enough to let him make a start. Peter had not seen very well, still he had nearly agreed when the argument was broken up. Sir John must be found in a propitious hour.
The next day provided none such, for Christmas had not unexpectedly brought a return of the Squire’s twinges, but these passed off with unusual quickness, and on Innocents’ Day his indomitable pluck mounted him once again on his grey horse to ride round the farms. Gervase found him finishing his breakfast when he came down for his own, and seeing by whip and gaiters what was planned, he realised that a favourable time had come. So he rushed into his request while he was helping himself to bacon.
To his surprise his father heard him without interruption.
“Have you any bent for engineering?” he asked at the end.
“Oh, yes, Sir. I can drive any sort of car and mess about with their insides. I always was keen.”
“You’ve been keen on a good many things if I remember right, but not always proficient. All my sons have been to Oxford.”
“But think what a lot it ’ud cost you, Sir, to send me.”
“I expect it ’ud cost me nearly as much to make an engineer of you.”
“Oh, no, Sir—you’ll only have to plank down about a hundred to start with, and in time they’ll pay me some sort of a screw. And if I go into a shop at Ashford I can live at home and cost you nothing.”
“You think you’ll cost nothing to keep at home? What ull you live on, you damned fool?”
“Oh, relatively I meant, Sir. And if I get, say, fifteen bob a week, as I shall in time....”
“It’ll be a proud day for me, of course.”
“Things have changed since the war, and lots of chaps who’d have gone up to the ’Varsity now go straight into works—there’s Hugh’s friend, Tom Daubernon, opened a garage at Colchester....”
“That will be your ambition in life—to open a garage?”
“No, Sir—Alard and Co., motor-engineers and armament makers—that’s my job, and not so bad either. Think of Krupps.”
Sir John laughed half angrily.
“You impudent rascal! Have it your own way—after all, it’ll suit me better to pay down a hundred for you to cover yourself with oil and grease than a thousand for you to get drunk two nights a week at Oxford” ... a remark which affected Gervase in much the same way as the remark on “little women” had affected Peter.
The conversation was given a more romantic colour when Sir John retailed it to Peter on the edge of the big ploughed field by Glasseye Farm. Peter was going out after duck on the Tillingham marshes—he had that particularly solitary look of a man who is out alone with a gun.
“I must say I think the boy has behaved extremely well,” said his father—“it must have cost him a lot to give up Oxford. He thinks more of our position than I imagined.”
“I don’t see that it’ll add much to the dignity of our position to have him in a workshop.”
“It mayn’t add much to our dignity—but he’s only the youngest son. And what we want more than dignity is money.”
“Gervase giving up Oxford won’t save you more than a few hundred, and what’s that when it’ll take fifty thousand to pay off the mortgages?”
“You’re a sulky dog, Peter,” said Sir John. “If you’d only do as well as your brother, perhaps you could pull us out of this.”
“What d’you mean, Sir?”
“Gervase has done his best and given up the only thing he had to give up—Oxford. If you could sink your personal wishes for the family’s sake....”
Peter turned crimson and his pale Saxon eyes darkened curiously.
“D’you know what I mean?” continued his father.
“You mean marry a rich woman ... you want me to marry Dolly Hurst.”
For a moment Sir John was silent, then he said in an unexpectedly controlled voice——
“Well, what’s wrong with Dolly Hurst?”
“Nothing that I know of ... but then I know nothing ... and I don’t care.”
“I’m told,” continued the baronet, still calmly, “that you have already formed an attachment.”
“Who told you?”
“Never mind who. The point is, I understand there is such an attachment.”
Peter sought for words and found none. While he was still seeking, Sir John shook the reins, and the grey horse moved off heavily up the side of the field.