The Confessions of a Well-meaning Woman
9781465680280
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Lady Ann (to a friend of proved discretion): You have toiled all the way here again? Do you know, I feel I am only beginning to find out who are the true friends? I am much, much better... On Friday I am to be allowed on to the sofa and by the end of next week Dr. Richardson promises to let me go back to Mount Street. Of course I should have liked the operation to take place there—it is one's frame and setting, but, truly honestly, Arthur and I have not been in a position to have any painting or papering done for so long ... The surgeon insisted on a nursing-home. Apparatus and so on and so forth... Quite between ourselves, I fancy that they make a very good thing out of these homes; but I am so thankful to be well again that I would put up with almost any imposition... Everything went off too wonderfully. Perhaps you have seen my brother Brackenbury? Or Ruth? Ah, I am sorry; I should have been vastly entertained to hear what they were saying, what they dared say. Ruth did indeed offer to pay the expenses of the operation—the belated prick of conscience!—; and it was on the tip of my tongue to say we are not yet dependent on her spasmodic charity. Also, that I can keep my lips closed about Brackenbury without expecting a—tip! But they know I can't afford to refuse £500... If they, if everybody would only leave one alone! Spied on, whispered about... The papers made such an absurd stir! If you are known by name as occupying any little niche, the world waits gaping below. I suppose I ought to be flattered, but for days there were callers, letters, telephone-messages. Like Royalty in extremis... And I never pretended that the operation was in any sense critical... Do you know, beyond saying that, I would much rather not talk about it? This very modern frankness... Not you, of course! But, when a man like my brother-in-law Spenworth strides in here a few hours before the anæsthetic is administered and says "What is the matter with you? Much ado about nothing, I call it..." That from Arthur's brother to Arthur's wife, when, for all he knew, he might never see her alive again... I prefer just to say that everything went off most satisfactorily and that I hope now to be better than I have been for years... It was anxiety more than anything else. A prolonged strain always finds out the weak place: Arthur complaining that he had lost some of his directorships and that, with the war, he was being offered none to take their place; talk of selling the house in Mount Street, every corner filled with a wonderful memory of old happy days when the princess almost lived with me; sometimes no news from the front for weeks, and that could only mean that my boy Will was moving up with the staff. It was just when I was at my wits' end that he wrote to say that he must have five hundred pounds. He gave no reason, so I assumed that one of his friends must be in trouble; and I was not to tell Arthur... This last effort really exhausted me; and I knew that, if I was not to be a useless encumbrance to everybody, I must "go into dock," as Will would say, "for overhauling and repairs." Dr. Richardson really seemed reluctant to impose any further tax on my vitality at such a time, but I assured him that I was not afraid of the knife. So here you find me!
