Taking Liberties Read Online Free PDF Page A

that at least. Alice had many faults but meanness was not among them; the object was dependence, her dependence. Alice’s oddity was that she admired her mother-in-law and at the same time was jealous of her, both emotions mixed to an almost ludicrous degree. It had taken a while for Diana to understand why, when she changed her hairstyle, Alice changed hers. A pair of gloves was ordered; similar gloves arrived for Alice who then charged them with qualities that declared them superior.
    Diana tended old Mrs Brown in the village; of a sudden Alice was also visiting the Brown cottage in imitation of a charity that seemed admirable to her yet which had to be surpassed: ‘I took her beef tea, Maman —she prefers it to calves’-foot jelly.’
    Yes, her pension had been stipulated by Alice. She was to be kept close, under supervision, virtually imprisoned in genteel deprivation, required to ask for transport if she needed it, all so that Alice could forever flaunt herself at the mother-in-law she resented and wished to emulate in equal measure. Look how much better I manage my house/marriage/servants than you did, Maman .
    Nor would it be conscious cruelty; Alice, who did not suffer from introspection, would sincerely believe she was being kind. Dutifully, the Dowager strove to nurse a fondness for her daughter-in-law but it thrived never so much as when she was away from her.
    No . It was not to be tolerated. She had been released from one gaol, she would not be dragooned into another.
    The Dowager halted and turned on her son.
    He was sweating. His eyes pleaded for her compliance as they had when he was the little boy who, though hating it, was about to be taken to a bear-baiting by his father, begging her not to protest—as indeed, for once, she had been about to. Let it be, his eyes said now, as they had then. Don’t turn the screw.
    If it were to be a choice between offending her or Alice or even himself, then Alice must win, as his father had won. He would always side with the strong, even though it hurt him, because the pain of not doing so would, for him, be the greater.
    So protest died in her, just as it always had, and its place was taken by despair that these things were not voiced between them. She opened her mouth to tell him she understood but, frightened that she would approach matters he preferred unspoken, Robert cut her off. Unwisely, he said: ‘If you think it too little, Mama, perhaps we can squeeze a bit more from the coffers.’
    Good God . Did they think she was standing on a street corner with her hand out? All at once, she was furious. How dare they expect that she might beg.
    â€˜Thank you, Robert,’ she told him with apparent indifference, ‘the pension is adequate.’
    He sagged with relief.
    Oh no, my dear, she thought. Oh no, Alice may rule my income but she will not rule me. She had a premonition of Alice’s triumphs at future gatherings: ‘Did you enjoy the goose, Maman? ’ Then, sotto voce : ‘Dear Maman , we always give her a goose at Michaelmas.’ Unaware that by such bourgeois posturing she reduced herself as well as her mother-in-law.
    Oh no. I am owed some liberty and dignity after twenty-odd years. I’ll not be incarcerated again.
    So she said, as if by-the-by: ‘Concerning the Dower House, it must be held in abeyance for a while. I am going visiting.’
    He hadn’t reckoned on this. ‘Who? When? Where will you go?’
    â€˜Friends,’ she said vaguely, making it up as she went, ‘Lady Margaret, perhaps, the De Veres . . .’ And then, to punish him a little: ‘I may even make enquiries about Martha Pardoe’s son, Grayle as she now is—I believe you saw the letter she sent me.’
    He was horrified. ‘Martha’s . . . ? Mama, you can’t. Involving oneself for an American prisoner? People would think it . . . well, they’d be appalled.’
    â€˜Would they, my