The confessions of a well-meaning woman

by Stephen McKenna

Indeed I know what I am talking about. In this very room, though Arthur would not allow me to be present: it was not "a woman's province." Clergyman or no, the mad old father would have had short shrift from me. "Proof, my good man," I would have said, "proof." ... That is how the matter stands at present, and you can realize that, while we are braced to receive the next onslaught, there can be no question of long, careless holidays.

But I was glad I went even for a short time. Even to Menton, which truly honestly is only a suburb of Monte Carlo (I had a reason), even with the railways in their present abominable condition—the French seem to be making no effort to pull themselves together after the war except by means of wholesale robbery. They have clearly decided that, as we came to their rescue and paid for their war, it is now our bounden duty to pay for them in peace as well... I always believe in going right away after a domestic crisis of that kind; and I was really beginning to fear a break-down if I stayed any longer in London. There is a curious convention that there is something funny about a man of Arthur's age and position falling under the spell of a little chorus-girl; it is less funny when you have to fight for your life to preserve your husband and the father of your child. Some form of madness that overtakes men... I have not told you, I never shall tell you what Arthur was like when he found that this girl had thrown him over at the last moment. Dazed... His behaviour to me seemed of no account; the fact that I knew everything from the girl's own lips and had helped to pack the clothes in which he was to run away with her... He was like a man in a trance...

I uttered no word of reproach. It was unnecessary. At first he behaved as if the light had gone out of his life—which was pleasant for me; then he seemed to realize that perhaps some amends were owing to me... Assented immediately to my proposal that we should go right away...

I chose Menton because Sir Appleton Deepe was there. He, I fancy, would be the first to tell you that I really made him. Unheard-of before the war, except in business... I wanted his advice about Will: where he could lay out his talents to greatest advantage, as it were; and, though nothing has been decided definitely, I have a promise, and he is most anxious to meet Will... So one's time was not wasted...

And there, in the peace and wonderful sunshine, one had an opportunity of recovering one's perspective. I had tided Arthur through his great crisis; and there was nothing, I felt, to fear in the future. But we could not let it rest at that. There had been an intolerable amount of malicious gossip—how wide-spread I could not believe until the proof was thrust before me—; men jesting in their clubs, women gloating... And you may be sure that the Brackenbury and Spenworth broods were only too delighted to think that yet another had been dragged down to their level; if one was not to be a by-word and an object of scorn... Goodness me, I wasn't thinking of my own poor dignity, but these stories had to be stopped somehow. In the school in which I was brought up one was supposed to set something of an example; for what it may be worth, one does occupy a certain niche; it was more than time for us to shew that there had been no catastrophe, as our kind friends would have liked to think.

"Arthur," I said, "you will never hear me allude to this again. We have passed through a time of trouble, but God has mercifully brought us into safety. For some months we have been spied on and whispered about; it is our duty to shew a happy and united front!"

Arthur said at once that he would do whatever I wanted...

You do not often hear me talking of "position" or "dignity" or "rights", but I did indeed feel that any poor little niche we might occupy was threatened. Spenworth's own record is so infamous that people would feel it was only natural for his brother to tread the same path. I am not ashamed to confess that I do feel what people say about me. Some people... And it was these people, the people who mattered, that I wanted to convince; if there was indeed no rift between Arthur and me, why should we allow the gossips to pretend there was? ...

I decided to signalize our return to England by a little party—just a few friends to dinner, a little music, a few more friends coming in if they had nothing better to do. I have never found it necessary to inform the world—as your Mrs. Tom Noddys do—that they have left Gloucester Place for Eastbourne or Eastbourne for Gloucester Place. Goodness me, "Who wonders—and who cares?," as they say. But I was not sorry to find that our little party was being discussed; and, of course, when once the princess's name was mentioned, the papers came at me with open arms... I left no stone unturned to make a success of the little gathering. We have always been quite pitiably restricted in our entertaining, but this was not the moment to grudge a few extra pounds well laid-out... And it does not require a mathematician to prove that Arthur could have given me more money if he had given less in other directions. Of course, I did not hint such a thing; my dear, peace, forgiveness, forgetfulness was what I wanted... And it was not necessary; Arthur assented to everything.

First of all I made certain of the princess. What she can see in a dull old woman like me you must ask her; but she has been a true and loving friend for perhaps more years than either of us now cares to recall; and, if humble affection and gratitude matter to her, she knows that they are hers whenever she does me the honour of visiting my house... She likes coming, I know; in me, she has been gracious enough to say, she finds an attitude of mind, a point of view which is disappearing only too fast; in a sense—I am sure she would be the first to excuse my presumption—we were brought up in the same school.