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Updated: June 23, 2025
Forsyte will be very glad to see you. He was saying at lunch that he never saw you nowadays." Val grinned. "Well, here I am. Kill the fatted calf, Warmson, let's have fizz." Warmson smiled faintly in his opinion Val was a young limb. "I will ask Mrs. Forsyte, Master Val." "I say," Val grumbled, taking off his overcoat, "I'm not at school any more, you know."
I'll see him myself tomorrow." They were touched by this declaration, and Emily said comfortably: "That's right, James, we won't have any nonsense." "Ah!" muttered James darkly, "I can't tell." The advent of Warmson with fish diverted conversation.
"He wouldn't go to bed till you came in. He's still in the diningroom." Soames responded in the hushed tone to which the house was now accustomed. "What's the matter with him, Warmson?" "Nervous, sir, I think. Might be the funeral; might be Mrs. Dartie's comin' round this afternoon. I think he overheard something. I've took him in a negus. The mistress has just gone up."
"She is pretty," said Emily; "she ought to make a good match." "There you go," murmured James; "she'd much better stay at home and look after her mother." A second Dartie carrying off his pretty granddaughter would finish him! He had never quite forgiven Emily for having been as much taken in by Montague Dartie as he himself had been. "Where's Warmson?" he said suddenly.
"You mustn't worry, Father," said Winifred calmly. "I mean to make him behave." "Ah!" said James. "Here, take this thing off, I'm hot." They unwound the shawl. He turned, and walked firmly to the dining-room. "I don't want any soup," he said to Warmson, and sat down in his chair. They all sat down too, Winifred still in her hat, while Warmson laid the fourth place.
And making Warmson bring him an early cup of coffee; he stole out of the house before the hour of breakfast. He walked rapidly to one of those small West End streets where Polteed's and other firms ministered to the virtues of the wealthier classes. Hitherto he had always had Polteed to see him in the Poultry; but he well knew their address, and reached it at the opening hour.
The butler asked whether Mrs. Soames was in the cab, the master had told him they were both expected to dinner. Soames answered: "No. Mrs. Forsyte has a cold." The butler was sorry. Soames thought he was looking at him inquisitively, and remembering that he was not in dress clothes, asked: "Anybody here to dinner, Warmson?" "Nobody but Mr. and Mrs. Dartie, sir."
"I should like a glass of Madeira to-night." "There's champagne, James." James shook his head. "No body," he said; "I can't get any good out of it." Emily reached forward on her side of the fire and rang the bell. "Your master would like a bottle of Madeira opened, Warmson." "No, no!" said James, the tips of his ears quivering with vehemence, and his eyes fixed on an object seen by him alone.
At a quarter past he was placing his umbrella in the stand at Park Lane he did not choose to relinquish his hat and coat; telling Warmson that he wanted to see his master, he went, without being announced, into the study, and sat down. James was still in the dining-room talking to Soames, who had come round again before breakfast.
"She she was always...." he said, and with that enigmatic remark the conversation lapsed, for Warmson had returned.
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