Chapter 7, The Enchanted April By Elizabeth Von Arnim

Chapter 7, The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Arnim, written in 1922, was inspired by a trip to the Italian Riviera.
Mrs. Wilkins and Mrs. Arbuthnot are captivated by an advertisement in The Times. "To those who appreciate wisteria and sunshine. Small medieval castle on the Mediterranean to be let furnished for the month of April..."

Read by Brita Benson

Transcript

THE ENCHANTED APRIL,

CHAPTER VII Their eyes followed her admiringly.

They had no idea they had been snubbed.

It was a disappointment,

Of course,

To find she had forestalled them,

And that they were not to have their happiness of preparing for her,

Of watching her face when she arrived,

And first saw everything.

But they were still Mrs.

Fisher.

They would concentrate on Mrs.

Fisher,

And would watch her face instead,

Only,

Like everybody else,

They would have preferred to watch Lady Caroline's.

Perhaps then,

As Lady Caroline had first talked of breakfast,

They had better begin by going and having it,

For there was too much to be done that day to spend any more time gazing at the scenery,

Servants to be interviewed,

The house to be gone through and examined,

And finally Mrs.

Fisher's room.

They waved their hands gaily at Lady Caroline,

Who seemed absorbed in what she saw and took no notice,

And turning away,

Found the maid servants of the night before had come up silently behind them in cloth slippers with stringed soles.

She was Francesca,

The elderly parlour maid who had been with the owner,

He'd said,

For years,

And whose presence made inventories unnecessary,

And after wishing them good morning and hoping they'd slept well,

She told them breakfast was ready in the dining room on the floor below,

And if they would follow her,

She would lead.

They did not understand a single word of the many which Francesca succeeded in clothing this simple information,

But they followed her,

For it was at least clear that they were to follow,

And going down the stairs and along the broad hall,

Like the one above except for the glass doors at the end instead of a window opening into the garden,

They were shown into a dining room,

Where sitting at the head of the table,

Having her breakfast,

Was Mrs.

Fisher.

This time they exclaimed,

Even Mrs.

Arbuthnot exclaimed,

Though her exclamation was only,

Oh!

Mrs.

Wilkins exclaimed at greater length,

Why,

But that's like leaving the bread taken out of one's mouth,

Exclaimed Mrs.

Wilkins.

How do you do?

Said Mrs.

Fisher.

I can't get up because of my stick,

And she stretched out her hand across the table.

They advanced and shook it.

We had no idea you were here,

Said Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

Yes,

Said Mrs.

Fisher,

Resuming her breakfast.

Yes,

I am here,

And with composure she removed the top of her egg.

It's a great disappointment,

Said Mrs.

Wilkins.

We had meant to give you such a welcome.

This was the one Mrs.

Fisher remembered,

Briefly gazing at her,

And when she came to Prince of Wales Terrace she said she'd seen Keats.

She must be careful with this one,

Curb her from the beginning.

She therefore ignored Mrs.

Wilkins and said gravely,

With a downward face of impenetrable calm,

Bent on her egg,

Yes,

I arrived yesterday with Lady Caroline.

It's really dreadful,

Said Mrs.

Wilkins,

Exactly as if she had been ignored.

There's nobody left to get anything ready for now.

I feel thwarted.

I feel as if the bread has been taken out of my mouth,

Just as I was going to be happily swallowing it.

Where will you sit?

Asked Mrs.

Fisher of Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Markedly of Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

The comparison with the bread seemed to her most unpleasant.

Oh,

Thank you,

Said Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Sitting down rather suddenly next to her.

There were only two places she could sit down in,

The places laid on either side of Mrs.

Fisher.

She therefore sat down in one,

And Mrs.

Wilkins sat down opposite her in the other.

Mrs.

Fisher was at the head of the table.

Round her was grouped the tea and the coffee.

Of course they were all sharing San Salvador equally.

But it was she herself and Lottie,

Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Mildly reflected,

Who'd found it,

Who had done the work of getting it,

Who had chosen to admit Mrs.

Fisher into it.

Without them she could not help thinking Mrs.

Fisher would not have even been there.

Morally,

Mrs.

Fisher was a guest.

There was no hostess at this party,

But supposing there had been a hostess,

It would not have been Mrs.

Fisher nor Lady Caroline.

It would have been either herself or Lottie.

Mrs.

Arbuthnot could help feeling this as she sat down,

And Mrs.

Fisher,

The hand which Ruskin had wrung suspended over the pots before her,

Inquired,

Tea or coffee?

She could not help feeling even more definitely when Mrs.

Fisher touched a small gong on the side table beside her,

As though she had been used to that gong and that table ever since she was little,

And on Francesca's appearing bade her in the language of Dante to bring more milk.

There was a curious air about Mrs.

Fisher,

Thought Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Of being in possession,

And if she herself had not been so happy,

She would have perhaps minded.

Mrs.

Wilkins noticed it too,

But it only made her discursive brain think of cuckoos.

She would no doubt immediately have begun to talk of cuckoos,

Incoherently,

Unrestrainably,

And deplorably,

If she had been in a condition of nerves and shyness.

She was in the last time that she saw Mrs.

Fisher.

But happiness had done away with shyness.

She was very serene,

And she could control her conversation.

She did not have horrified to listen to herself saying things that she had no idea what she was saying when she began.

She was quite at her ease and completely natural.

The disappointment of not going to be able to prepare a welcome for Mrs.

Fisher had evaporated at once,

For it was impossible to go on being disappointed in Heaven.

Nor did she mind her behaving as a hostess.

What did it matter?

Who did not mind things in Heaven?

She and Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Therefore,

Sat down more willingly than they had otherwise would have done.

One on either side of Mrs.

Fisher,

And the sun pouring through the two windows facing east across the bay,

Flooded the room,

And there was an open door leading into the garden,

And the garden was full of many lovely things,

Especially freesias.

The delicate and delicious fragrance of the freesias came in through the door and floated around Mrs.

Wilkins in raptured nostrils.

The freesias in London were quite beyond her.

Occasionally she went into a shop and asked what they cost,

So as just to have an excuse for lifting up a bunch and smelling them,

Well,

Knowing that it was something awful like a shilling for about three flowers.

Here they were everywhere,

Bursting out of every corner and carpeting the rose beds.

Imagine it,

Having freesias to pick in armfuls if you wanted to,

And with glorious sunshine flooding the room,

And in your summer flock,

And it being only the first of April.

Suppose you realise,

Don't you,

That we've gone to heaven,

She said,

Beaming at Mrs.

Fisher,

With all the familiarity of a fellow angel.

They are considerably younger than I had supposed,

Thought Mrs.

Fisher,

And not nearly so plain,

And she mused a moment,

And she took no notice of Mrs.

Wilkins' exuberance on their instant and agitated refusal to play at Prince of Wales Terrace to have anything to do with the giving or the taking of references.

Nothing could affect her,

Of course nothing that anybody did.

She was simply too solidly seated in respectability.

At her back stood massively,

In a tremendous row,

Those three great names she had offered,

And they were not only the ones that she could turn to for support and countenance.

Even of these young women,

For she had no grounds for believing in one out in the garden to be really Lady Caroline D'Esta,

She had merely been told that she was.

Even if these young women should turn all round to be what Browning used to call,

How well she remembered his amusing and delightful way of putting things,

Fly-by-nights,

What could it possibly,

Or in any other matter,

Way matter to her?

Let them fly-by-night if they wished.

One was not sixty-five for nothing.

In any case,

There would only be four weeks of it,

At the end of which she would see no more of them,

And in the meanwhile there were plenty of places where she could sit quietly away from them and remember.

Also there was her own sitting-room,

A charming room,

All honey-coloured furniture and pictures,

With windows to the sea towards Genoa,

And a door opening on to the battlements.

The house possessed two sitting-rooms,

And she explained to that pretty creature,

Lady Caroline,

Certainly a pretty creature,

Whatever else she was,

Tennyson would have enjoyed talking to her for the blows of the downs,

Who had seemed inclined to appropriate the honey-coloured one,

That she needed some little refuge entirely to herself because of her stick.

Nobody wants to see an old woman hobbling around everywhere,

She'd said.

I should be quite content to spend much of the time here by myself,

Sitting out in these convenient battlements.

And she had a very nice bedroom,

Too.

It looked two ways,

Across the bay to the morning sun,

She liked the morning sun,

And on to the garden.

There were only two of these bedrooms with cross-views in the house,

She and Lady Caroline had discovered,

And they were by far the airiest.

They each had two beds in them,

And she and Lady Caroline had had the extra beds taken out at once and put in two of the other rooms.

In this way there was much more space and comfort.

Lady Caroline,

Indeed,

Had turned hers into a bed sitting-room,

And with the sofa out of the bigger drawing-room and the writing-table and the most comfortable chair,

But she herself had not had to do that because she had her own sitting-room,

Equipped with what was necessary.

Lady Caroline had first thought of taking the bigger sitting-room entirely for her own,

Because the dining-room on the floor below could well be used for between meals to sit in by two others,

And was a very pleasant room,

With nice chairs.

But she had not liked the bigger sitting-room's shape.

It was a round room with a tower,

With deep-slit windows pierced through the massive walls,

And a domed and ribbed ceiling arranged to look like an open umbrella,

And it seemed a little dark.

Undoubtedly Lady Caroline had cast covetous glances at that honey-coloured room,

And if she,

Mrs.

Fisher,

Had been less firm,

She would have installed herself in it,

Which would have been absurd.

"'I hope,

' said Lady Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Smiling,

Making an attempt to convey to Mrs.

Fisher what she thought,

Mrs.

Fisher might not be exactly a guest.

She was certainly,

At the very least,

A hostess.

"'Your room is comfortable.

' "'Quite,

' said Mrs.

Fisher.

"'Will you have some more coffee?

' "'No,

Thank you.

' "'Will you?

' "'No,

Thank you.

' There were two beds in my bedroom,

Filling it up unnecessarily,

And I had one taken out.

It has made it much more convenient.

"'Oh,

That's why I've got two beds in my room!

' exclaimed Mrs.

Wilkins,

Illuminated.

The second bed in her little cell had seemed an unnatural and inappropriate object from the moment she saw it.

"'I gave no directions,

' said Mrs.

Fisher,

Addressing Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

"'I merely asked Francesca to remove it.

' "'I have two in my room as well,

' said Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

"'Your second must be Lady Caroline's.

She had hers removed too,

' said Mrs.

Fisher.

"'It seems foolish to have more beds in a room than there are occupiers.

' "'But we haven't got husbands here either,

' said Mrs.

Wilkins.

"'And I don't see use in any extra beds in one's room if there aren't husbands to put in them.

"'Can't we have them taken away too?

' "'Beds,

' said Mrs.

Fisher coldly,

"'cannot be removed from one room after another.

They must remain somewhere.

' Mrs.

Wilkins's remarks seemed to Mrs.

Fisher persistently unfortunate.

Each time she opened her mouth,

She said something best left unsaid.

Loose talk about husbands had never been in Mrs.

Fisher's circle to be encouraged in the eighties when she chiefly flourished.

Husbands were to be taken seriously as the only real obstacles to sin.

Beds,

Too,

If they had to be mentioned,

Were approached with caution.

And a decent reserve prevented them and husbands ever being spoken of in the same breath.

She turned more markedly than ever to Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

"'Do let me give you a little more coffee,

' she said.

"'No,

Thank you.

But won't you have some more?

' "'No,

Indeed.

I never have more than two cups at breakfast.

Would you like an orange?

' "'No,

Thank you.

Would you?

' "'No,

I don't eat fruit at breakfast.

It's an American fashion which I'm too old now to adopt.

Have you all you want?

' "'Quite.

Have you?

' Mrs.

Fisher paused before replying.

"'Was this a habit,

This trick of answering a simple question with the same question?

"'If so,

It must be curbed.

"'For no one could live four weeks in any real comfort with somebody who had a habit.

' She glanced at Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Who had parted hair and a gentle brow reassured her.

"'No,

It was an accident,

Not habit,

That had produced those echoes.

' She could as soon imagine a dove having tiresome habits as Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

Considering how she thought what a splendid wife she would have been for the poor Carlisle,

So much better than that horrid,

Clever Jane,

She would have soothed him.

"'Then shall we go?

' she suggested.

"'Let me help you up,

' said Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

All consideration.

"'Oh,

Thank you.

I can manage perfectly.

"'It's only sometimes that my stick prevents me.

' Mrs.

Fisher got up quite easily.

Mrs.

Arbuthnot had hovered over her for nothing.

"'I'm going to have one of those gorgeous oranges,

' said Mrs.

Wilkins,

Staying where she was and reaching across the black bowl piled with them.

"'Rose,

How can you resist them?

Look,

Have this one.

"'Do have this beauty,

' and she held out a big one.

"'No,

I'm going to see to my duties,

' said Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

Moving towards the door.

"'You'll forgive me for leaving you,

Won't you?

' she added politely to Mrs.

Fisher.

Mrs.

Fisher moved towards the door too,

Quite easily,

Almost quickly.

Her stick did not hinder her at all.

She had no intention of being left with Mrs.

Wilkins.

"'What time would you like to have lunch?

' Mrs.

Arbuthnot asked her,

Trying to keep her head,

As at least a non-guest,

If not precisely a hostess,

Above water.

"'Lunch,

' said Mrs.

Fisher,

"'is at half-past twelve.

'" "'You shall have it at half-past twelve,

Then,

' said Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

"'I'll tell the cook.

It will be a great struggle,

' she continued,

Smiling,

"'but I've bought a little dictionary.

' "'The cook,

' said Mrs.

Fisher,

"'knows.

'" "'Oh,

' said Mrs.

Arbuthnot.

"'Lady Caroline has already told her,

' said Mrs.

Fisher.

"'Oh,

' said Mrs.

Arbuthnot again.

"'Yes,

Lady Caroline speaks the kind of Italian cooks understand.

"'I'm prevented from going into the kitchen because of my stick,

"'and even if I were to be able to go,

I fear I shouldn't be understood.

' "'But,

' began Mrs.

Arbuthnot,

"'but it's too wonderful!

' Mrs.

Wilkins finished for her from the table,

"'delighted with these unexpected simplifications in hers and Rose's lives.

"'Why,

We've got positively nothing to do here,

Either of us,

"'except just be happy.

' "'You wouldn't believe it,

' she said,

"'turning her head and speaking straight to Mrs.

Fisher,

"'portions of orange in either hand.

"'How terribly good Rose and I have been for years without stopping,

"'and how much now we need a perfect rest!

' "'And Mrs.

Fisher,

Going without an answer,

"'went to the room and said to herself,

"'She must,

She must be curbed!

'