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Chapter 37: "An amazing man"
"That was a rather splendid opera," Charlotte declared enthusiastically as the four of them left the theater.
"It certainly was," Jean agreed. "The woman who played the lead had a superb voice."
The two women strolled ahead, discussing the opera. James and Arthur walked silently behind them. Arthur cleared his throat.
"Charlotte seems to be doing well," he suggested timidly.
James nodded. "Yes, but she's been tired lately. She slept for three hours this afternoon."
"That's to be expected, you know." They were silent again. A few feet in front of them, Charlotte and Jean had moved on to the subject of housekeepers.
"You know, James, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty about going to Scotland," Arthur spoke again.
James looked at him. "I know. I made myself feel guilty. Will you do me a favor?"
"Certainly."
"Will you keep an eye on Charlotte while I'm gone? Just sort of check on her from time to time, I mean?"
Arthur nodded. "Of course. I'll be happy to."
"I've never left her for more than a few hours. Is it wrong of me to do something for my career? I am in no way prepared for this. I feel like this is my first marriage. What did I miss the first time?"
"You missed a lot. The joy of being in love and the anxiety of having children. You didn't have a real marriage. Yours was a sham. I commend you for what you've made of your life. Better men than you wouldn't have been able to cope with the circumstances you had to overcome."
"Thank you, Arthur. My self-esteem is greatly improved."
Arthur laughed. "I'm glad." He looked around and realized that they were not going in either the direction of his flat or James' house. "I say, where are they taking us? Jean," he called.
"Yes?" She turned to look at him.
"Would you mind telling me where exactly we're going?"
"Professor Montgomerie's. He called to invite us to a party tonight. Didn't I tell you?"
"No, dearest, I don't seem to recall that."
"Well, I've just found out that Charlotte and James have been invited as well, and I thought we might make an appearance now."
Anticipating some resistance, Charlotte turned to her husband.
"Please, James? Just for a few minutes? I do so want to meet Professor Montgomerie."
James hesitated. "Well, I'm not sure whether I should allow this. I ought to take you home."
"Oh, James. Please. I promise we don't have to stay for too long."
"Will you go straight to bed as soon as we get home?"
"If you insist."
"Hmm." James pretended to ponder his answer. "You were awfully well-behaved at the opera tonight. I suppose you deserve a bit of a reward."
"Thank you, darling." She kissed him. "I promise I won't embarrass you."
"I'm not worried about that. But coming with Arthur does present a bit of a problem."
Arthur smirked at him. "Very amusing, James."
They stopped in front of the house James had visited earlier. Arthur knocked on the door. It was answered by Mrs. Mallery, who stared at them suspiciously until she recognized James. She stood back to let them all into the house.
As they entered the foyer, James, Charlotte, Arthur, and Jean were confronted by a sight so comical that it seemed entirely out of place at such an important gathering: Professor Montgomerie, dressed in full Scottish garb, complete with sporran and kilt; slippers; and his faithful top hat perched on his head. He stood at the foot of the staircase, a cane in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. He proudly surveyed the guests moving about in the next room, and turned toward the front door.
"James! Arthur!" He hurried over. "Come in, please! I'm so glad you're here!" He noticed Jean and Charlotte. "Hello. Who might these two beautiful young ladies be?"
Arthur stepped forward to introduce Jean.
"Professor Montgomerie, Jean Leckie."
"Ah, yes. The woman Arthur can't seem to stop talking about."
Jean blushed.
"Well, James, aren't you going to introduce me to the vision of loveliness standing next to you?"
"Of course. Professor Hugh Montgomerie, Charlotte Barrie." It suddenly occurred to James that he had previously introduced Charlotte as "my wife". He had never before used his own last name in reference to her, and he rather liked the sound of it.
Professor Montgomerie bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Barrie. And may I congratulate you on your expected arrival."
"Thank you very much."
"May one inquire as to when the baby is due?"
"In about five months," James answered proudly.
"Wonderful. Well, go and enjoy yourselves, everyone. I'm sure you're bound to find people in there who are eager to talk to you."
He followed the four of them into the parlor, where adoring and star-struck women immediately converged upon Arthur, despite Jean's presence. Not so for James, who was far less desirable to the public, especially considering his lack of a baronetcy and the fact that he did not share Arthur's rugged, athletic good looks.
So, James was left to spend a quiet moment with his wife. They stood removed from the crowd that had gathered around Arthur (in spite of Jean's loud and vehement protests). Charlotte seemed to think that Arthur's reaction to his admirers was extremely amusing; he seemed to soak up the attention and flattery of the many young women.
"You know, I'm leaving in a few days," James reminded her, slightly cross.
"I know. We'll talk about it when we get home, all right? I don't want to fall apart in front of everyone."
"What do you mean?"
"It's very difficult for me, James. I don't want to do this now. Look, isn't that Mrs. Snow?"
"Yes, you're right." James saw the elderly woman making her way across the room, but his view was soon obstructed by Professor Montgomerie, tottering about with his cane. Professor Montgomerie spotted the two of them and came over.
"So, James, I imagine you're looking forward to Tuesday, aren't you?"
Charlotte's jaw tightened, but she resigned herself to listening to the conversation.
"Yes, I'm quite looking forward to it," James said, glancing sideways at Charlotte. He put his arm around her.
"You must be proud of your husband, Mrs. Barrie," Professor Montgomerie observed. "He's a rare bird. It's not often someone this talented graces the rest of us with his presence."
"Of course I'm proud of him. He is an amazing man. Anyone who doesn't recognize that is a fool." James gazed at her affectionately.
"I do hope you'll take care of my husband during your trip, Professor Montgomerie," Charlotte continued. "He sometimes loses focus and doesn't get any work done."
"Well, I can assure you that your husband will be in very capable hands, Mrs. Barrie. I'm not likely to let him lose sight of his work."
"I'm glad to hear that. He's working on a new play, you know, Professor."
"Oh, James, how exciting! What's it about?"
"You'll just have to come and see it," James replied mysteriously. "Professor, we really ought to be going. Would you tell Arthur that I'll speak to him before I leave?"
"Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Barrie, once again."
"Thank you, Professor Montgomerie. I had a lovely time."
"Goodbye. I'll see you on Tuesday morning, James."
"Yes. Thank you again."
He and Charlotte went outside. They got into one of the several carriages lined up along the street, waiting to take Professor Montgomerie's visitors back home.
"What did you think of Professor Montgomerie?" James asked as the carriage rattled along the street.
"He seems very nice. He's a bit eccentric, isn't he?"
"And what's wrong with that?" James burst out indignantly.
"Nothing at all. He reminds me of you. That's how you'll turn out when you're eighty."
"If I live that long."
"Stop it, James."
They were silent. James tried to turn his thoughts to something other than his own mortality, but they only settled on Charlotte's. If he failed one day to tell her that he loved her and appreciated her, he might never get that moment back. He would not be able to make up for it. Did she know that he loved her more than he ever had anyone else? Had she ever awoken in the early hours of the morning to find him sitting motionless in a chair near the foot of the bed, staring at her, as he often did when he couldn't sleep?
She sat quietly next to him, deep in thought, worried. She wore her emotions very clearly on her face. He always knew what she was feeling without asking her. He knew that she had been especially anxious in the last few days because a faint frown line had appeared above the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were very grey, giving the impression that a storm was coming inside her, and it was as though the clouds were becoming dense with rain. He wondered what could possibly have sent her soul into such turmoil that it was actually mirrored through her eyes.
James unlocked the front door to the house and they went inside. All was quiet; it was nearly half-past eleven. They went quietly up the stairs. James stopped at the door to the boys' room and listened. No sound came from within—they were all sleeping peacefully, immersed in dreams of Tiger Lily and the Lost Boys and, most especially, Wendy.
James continued down the hall to his own bedroom. Charlotte followed.
"Did you really mean all of what you said earlier?" James asked abruptly. "About me being amazing and you being proud of me?"
"Of course. On most days."
"Was there ever a time when you wouldn't have meant it?"
"No."
"I hope there isn't one in the future, either."
"I'm sure there won't be."
"I know this trip came at a bad time. I'm sorry."
"I told you, James, I would never expect you to turn down such an opportunity. And I would certainly never try to stop you."
"I know."
"I just want you back at the end of six weeks. I want you to run home as though the devil is right behind you."
"I will."
"And I want you to promise me that you'll stay home until after our child is born."
"You have my word."
"Well after."
"All right."
"Preferably for a few years after, but I know that's too much to ask."
"It is."
"You're quite sure I can't come with you?"
"Quite. I wish you could. You know it would be unwise."
She shrugged. "I had to try."
"But perhaps next time, hmm?"
"Yes."
He took her hand. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to change my mind. I have to do what's best for you. Let's see a smile. Come on." She gazed at him, wide-eyed and very sad.
"Come on. It's only six weeks. And I'm not leaving for a few days yet. Here." He got up, went to the wardrobe, and took something out of one of the drawers. "I was going to wait until Monday night to give you this, but—I suppose you need it now. This is something I've held onto for, oh, forty years. I need you to take care of it for me." He handed her a small, surprisingly well-preserved, stuffed dog.
She took it from him carefully and turned it over in her hands, examining it. "What's his name?" she whispered.
"Admiral." He grinned. "I was very imaginative as a child. And I believe I used to play pirates quite often. Anyway. Will you look after him for me while I'm gone?"
She nodded.
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"Good. And you can talk to him, if you like. He's a very good listener, but he never repeats anything you say to him."
"Oh, James, I'm going to miss you so much."
"Now, now. Let's not start that. I'm not gone yet. I don't want to hear anymore about it. Except in letters, then say it as many times as you wish. Now." He reached over and brushed a tear from her cheek with his finger. "I don't want any more tears, all right? We'll say goodbye and see each other at the end of six weeks. We're both going to have to be brave about this, yes?"
"All right."
"Good." He gave her his handkerchief. She held it to her eyes for a moment, then gave it back to him.
He kissed her. "Your special day is coming. Will you at least cheer up for that?"
She finally managed a weak smile.
"Yes. That's what I want to see. Now, I think it's time we went to bed. It's nearly midnight."
James went downstairs to lock up the house. When he returned, Charlotte was already in bed, Admiral's head resting on the pillow next to Charlotte's. James got into bed beside her.
"Goodnight, James," she murmured sleepily.
"Goodnight, my dawtie. I love you." He kissed her cheek.
James waited until Charlotte fell asleep. Then he got up, went around to the other side of the bed, sat in his chair and watched her until he himself dozed off.
In the Scottish dialect, "dawtie" means "pet" or "sweetheart".