Читать книгу Amethyst: The Story of a Beauty - Coleridge Christabel Rose - Страница 3

Market Cleverley was a dull little town, within easy reach of London, but on another line from Silverfold. The great feature of its respectable old-fashioned street was the high-built wall and handsome iron gates of Cleverley Hall, a substantial house of dark brick of the style prevalent in the earlier part of the last century. Nearly opposite the Hall was the Rectory, smaller in size, but similar in age and colour; and, beyond the large, long, square-towered church which stood at the end of the street, were the fields and gardens of Ashfield Mount, a large white modern villa built on a rising ground, which commanded a view of flat, fertile country, and of long, white roads, stretching away between neatly trimmed hedges.

The exchange of the dull but innocuous Admiral and Mrs Parry, at Cleverley Hall, for a large family of undoubted rank and position, who were supposed to be equally handsome and ill-behaved, and to belong to the extreme of fashion, could not fail to be exciting to the mother of two growing girls, and of a grown-up son, whose good looks and fair fortune were not to be despised. Mrs Leigh rented Ashfield from the guardian uncle of the owner, Miss Carisbrooke, a girl still under age, and had lived there for many years. Her son’s place, Toppings, in a northern county, had been let during his long minority.

She was a handsome woman, still in early middle life, and, having been long the leader of Cleverley society, naturally regarded so formidable a rival as Lady Haredale with anxiety. She was indeed so full of the subject, that when Miss Margaret Riddell, the rector’s maiden sister, came to see her for the first time, after a three months’ absence abroad, she had no thoughts to spare for the climate of Rome, or the beauty of Florence; but began at once on the subject of the sudden arrival of the owners of Cleverley Hall, and the change from the dear good Parrys.

“Have you called there yet?” said Miss Riddell, as the two ladies sat at tea in the pleasant, well-furnished drawing-room at Ashfield Mount.

“Yes,” said Mrs Leigh, “but Lady Haredale was out. Three great tall girls came late into church on Sunday, handsome creatures, but not good style. Gertie and Kate are very eager about them, of course, but I shall be cautious how I let them get intimate.”

“But what is the state of the case about the Haredales? What has become of the first family?”

“Well, my cousin in London, Mrs Saint George, tells me that Lord Haredale is supposed to be very hard up; ill luck on the turf I fancy, and the eldest son’s debts. He, the son, is a shocking character, drinks I believe. But my cousin thinks his father very hard on him. Then Lady Clyste, the first wife’s daughter, does not show at all – lives on the continent. Sir Edward is in India; but everybody knows that there was a great scandal, and a separation.”

“Well, they both seem pretty well out of the way, at any rate.”

“Yes, but it is this Lady Haredale herself. There’s nothing definite against her, Louisa says, but she belongs to the very fastest set! And these children have knocked about on the continent; and at Twickenham, where they have had a villa, they were always to be seen with the men Lady Haredale had about, and, in fact, chaperoning their mother. – A nice training for girls!”

“Poor little things?” said Miss Riddell. “Perhaps this is their first chance in life.”

“I dislike that style of thing so very much,” said Mrs Leigh; “with my girls I cannot be too particular.”

Miss Riddell knew very well that this sentence might have been read, “with my boy I cannot be too particular;” and she was herself concerned at the report of the new-comers, though, being a woman of a kindly heart, she thought with interest and pity of the handsome girls, with their bad style – the result evidently of a bad training.

“I must go and call – of course,” she said.

“Oh, of course – and I hope you and the Rector will come to meet them, we must have a dinner-party for them as soon as possible. Besides, it is time that Lucian came forward a little, if he is so shy when he goes back to Lancashire, he will make no way at all in his own county.”

Miss Riddell’s reply was forestalled by the entrance of the subject of this remark, who came up and shook hands with her cordially, but with something of the stiff politeness of a well-bred school-boy.

“Ah, you hear what I say, Lucian,” said his mother, “there are several things in store for you, which I do not mean to let you shirk in your usual fashion.”

“But I don’t want to shirk, if you are asking the Rector and Miss Riddell to dinner,” said the young man. “I’m very glad to see you back again, Miss Riddell; and if I must take in this formidable Lady Haredale, you’ll sit on the other side – won’t you? – and help me to talk to her?”

“I fancy from what I hear that you won’t find that difficult,” said Miss Riddell, “or disagreeable; but, if you like, I will report on her after my first visit.”

“Ah, thanks – give me the map of the country beforehand. Syl coming down this Easter?”

“I think so, for a week or two,” said Miss Riddell, as she took her leave. “Come some day soon, and see my Italian photographs; you know you are always welcome.”

“I will,” said Lucian; “the mother can’t say I shirk coming to see you.”

“No, Lucian, I have no fault to find with you. You know I always take your part. Good-bye for the present.”

Miss Riddell watched him as he walked away down the garden whistling to his dog – a tall fair youth, handsome as a young Greek, possessing indeed a kind of ideal beauty, that seemed almost out of character in the simple good-hearted boy who loved nothing so well as dogs and horses, liked to spend all his days in the roughest of shooting-coats, was too shy to enjoy balls and garden-parties (since he had never found out that he might have been the most popular of partners), and except on the simplest topics, in the home circle, or with his old friend Sylvester Riddell, never seemed to have anything to say. He was not clever, and cared little for intellectual interests, but he had managed to get himself decently through the Schools, and never seemed to have found it difficult to behave well.

His mother often declared herself disappointed that he did not make more of himself; but Miss Riddell wondered if there was much more to make.

She was interested in him, however, for ever since she had come to live with her widowed brother, the young people of the neighbourhood had formed one of the great interests of her life; and it was with every intention of giving a kindly welcome to the new-comers, that she set out on the next day to call on Lady Haredale. Within the wrought-iron gates of Cleverley Hall, a short straight drive led up to the house, defended by high cypress hedges, cut at intervals into turrets and pinnacles, troublesome to keep in order, and sombre and peculiar in effect. Miss Riddell wondered what the fashionable family would think of them. She was shown into a long drawing-room, where a tall slim figure rose to receive her, and three tall children started up from various parts of the room.

Lady Haredale was girlishly slight and graceful. She seemed to have given her daughters their delicate outlines and pale soft colouring, neither dark nor fair; but as Miss Riddell watched the manner and expression of the four, it seemed to her that the mother’s was much the simpler, and less affected; while she looked almost as youthful, and much more capable of enjoyment than her daughters. She was dressed in a shabby but becoming velvet gown, which told no tale of extravagance or of undue fashion.

“You know, Miss Riddell,” she said presently, in a sweet cheerful voice, “we are supposed to come here to be economical. This is our retreat. These children are getting too big to be dragged about on the continent. Aren’t they great girls? I have had them always with me. Now we ought to shut them up in the school-room.”

“Have they a governess?” asked Miss Riddell.

“Why – not at present. You see there wasn’t money enough both for education and frocks – and I’m afraid I chose frocks,” said Lady Haredale, with a voice and smile that almost made Miss Riddell feel that frocks were preferable to education.

“They have some time before them,” she said.

“Poor little penniless things,” said Lady Haredale, with a light laugh. “They haven’t any time to waste. This creature – come here, Una – is really fifteen.”

“I hope we shall soon be good friends,” said Miss Riddell, kindly.

“Oh, thanks, you’re very good, I’m sure,” said Una, with a cool level stare out of her big eyes and an indifferent drawl in her voice.

“They want some friends,” said Lady Haredale. “But this is not my eldest. There’s Amethyst. Her aunt has brought her up, and kept her always at school. But now we’re going to have her back. She’s a very pretty child it seems to me.”

“Is she coming to you soon?” asked Miss Riddell.

“After Easter. At her school they don’t like going out in Lent,” said Lady Haredale, opening her eyes, and speaking as if keeping Lent was a Japanese custom recently introduced. “She’s been so well brought up by good Miss Haredale. But now she is eighteen, and it’s time to take her out. The fact is, her aunt has had money losses – the last person among us who deserved them – but none of us ever have any money! She has been down here, poor woman, with Lord Haredale, to settle about it all.”

“She feels parting with her niece, no doubt.”

“Oh yes, dreadfully. But of course we shall let Amethyst go to her constantly. I’m so grateful to her for bringing her up. I hope the child will rub along with us comfortably. We shall have a few people staying with us soon; and while we are down here we must get these children taught something – they can do nothing but gabble a little French and German. Amethyst is finished, she has passed one of these new examinations. I hardly know what they are – but we left all that to her aunt, of course,” concluded Lady Haredale, with a slight tone of apology. “And I think she’s too pretty to be a blue.”

“I hope she will find Cleverley pleasant,” said Miss Riddell as she rose to take leave.

“I’m sure she will,” said Lady Haredale sweetly and cordially, as she shook hands with her guest. “Of course we shall do our best to enjoy ourselves while we are in retreat. Though I don’t mind confessing to you that I detest the country.”

“She looks innocent enough,” thought Miss Riddell as she walked away. “Silly I should say – but a real beauty.”

“That woman’s more frumpish than Aunt Annabel,” said one of the girls as the door closed behind the visitor.

“Just her style, dear good creature,” said Lady Haredale. “But they’re the Cheshire Riddells, you know, my dear – quite people to be civil to.”