Читать книгу The Abbey Girls at Home - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 5

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Jen stood on the terrace waving good-bye as the car bore Betty away down the beech avenue.

Tea had been laid in a grassy corner, whose walls were red climbing roses. Then Jen had led the way down a shrubbery path and through an old gate into the Abbey ruins, and had shown Betty quickly round.

“You must come again to see it properly, and to hear all the stories and see the underground parts. It’s a long job to do it thoroughly; if I start on the legends you won’t be home to dinner and your sister will be sending out wireless inquiries for you. I’m sorry you haven’t seen Ros and Maidie, but they often have to stay after school. As Queen and ex-Queen, they’re important people, and they’re needed for all sorts of things,” Jen had explained. “You’ll find me here or at the Manor, so I do hope you will come again.”

“I’d love to!” Betty said warmly.

As she lay back in the car, after waving good-bye to “Lady Marchwood,” Betty was conscious of a happier feeling than had possessed her before her visit. It was not merely the easing of her nervous dread or the happiness of renewed friendship. There had been an indefinable atmosphere about the house, a sense of courage in the face of loss, and of resolute rebuilding of life, which had ministered to her own need.

“Jenny-Wren makes a lot of Joy’s pluck,” she said to herself, as they drew near the lodge gates. “But she has plenty herself. It can’t have been easy to let her husband go away so far, after only a week together. And when Joy’s husband didn’t come back—no, Jen must have her bad times, though she says nothing about that. Of course, those babies are helping them all. If I had something that really needed me! I suppose I shall find something. I haven’t been looking for it; I’ve only been thinking how lonely I am. Their way is better; I shall have to buck up! I’ve been a slacker. There’s mother, to begin with; she misses Meg too. I’ve only thought about myself. I have been selfish.”

Her brows puckered in a frown. Then, as the car swerved round a sharp corner, just beside the great Abbey gateway, Betty sprang up with a wild cry. “Oh, stop! Stop quickly! You’ll run over them!”

Two cycles lay in the road, one with a twisted wheel. Two schoolgirls were just picking themselves up from the dust when the car bore down upon them.

Betty’s shout was echoed by a yell from one girl and a scream from the other. The chauffeur jammed down his brakes and swung the car round into the hedge. The turn was too sharp; the wheel caught the edge of the ditch, and the car crashed over on its side.

“And all because Maidie wouldn’t run over a hen!” Rosamund cried breathlessly. “Is anybody hurt? We’re all right; you’ve done for my bike, but it was a bit damaged—oh, I say!” Her voice sobered in terror. “Is she hurt? Who is she? She’s not—not dead, is she? Maidie, keep away! I’ll tell you in a moment!”

White and frightened, the man, unhurt himself, was trying to drag Betty out of the wrecked car. She lay limp and stunned, her head cut by the broken glass, her eyes closed. She had started up in fear for the girls, and had been thrown forward on to her head.

“Must fetch help,” the man panted. “She’s not dead, missy. Where’s the nearest hospital? Where can we get another car?”

“At the Hall,” Rosamund said steadily. “We’d better take her there. It’s the nearest place; the hospital is miles away. Lady Marchwood wouldn’t want her taken so far. Were you coming from the Hall? Had she been there? Oh, then, of course we must take her there! Maidie, are you hurt? Can you run? Then scorch home and tell Jen; through the Abbey will be the quickest way. Say they must send the car. Go quickly; I’ll be more use here. But—Maidie! Don’t frighten Joy! If Jen’s with her, get hold of Mary. But do it quickly!”

Maidlin nodded, with trembling lips. She was no use in an emergency such as this, but she could go for help, and she was tremulously eager to do something. She cast one terrified look at Betty, who moaned as Rosamund, with steady hands and set lips, helped the man to lay her on the grass. “Is she dead, Ros?”

“Not a bit. Stunned a little, that’s all. She’ll be sitting up and asking for brandy by the time the car gets here,” Rosamund said cheerfully. “But do be as quick as ever you can, Maidie. One never knows.”

Maidlin raced off at full speed through the old gateway and into the Abbey grounds, much happier for those comforting words.

Rosamund looked at the man searchingly, to see if he had believed it. What she saw in his face made her say quickly,—

“You couldn’t help it. You couldn’t run over us. If any one’s to blame, we are. You did the only possible thing. Will you please go to the Abbey and ask for some brandy, in case she comes round? And bring water; I could bathe her head. Ask Mrs. Watson to come; tell her what’s happened. And you should take some brandy yourself.”

As the caretaker, with many exclamations of pity, washed Betty’s cuts and bathed her face, Rosamund asked hurried questions of the chauffeur.

“Who is she? Can you give us her address? We’ll have to let her friends know. Are they on the ’phone? Lady Marchwood will do everything possible; they’ll have ’phoned for our doctor by now. It’s a good thing it happened so near the Hall. We’ll get her put to bed quite quickly.”

Mrs. Watson looked up. “We could carry her into the Abbey, Miss Rose. It’s nearer. I’ve heard say you shouldn’t move folks more’n can be helped till the doctor’s seen them, for fear there’s something broke inside. It’s a long way to the Hall if you go round by road.”

“But with the car—oh, goodness! The car’s got a wheel off! Jen said so this morning. I say, Ann, we’d better carry her in to your rooms! You could make up the bed in Joan’s little room, where Maidie slept the day the twins were born?”

“Easy, Miss Rose. I’ll fetch a mattress and we’ll lift her gentle.”

“Yes, that’s best,” Rosamund agreed; and while she waited and tended Betty, one part of her mind, working alone, said that it was just as well Maidie had been adopted by Joy and taken to the Hall, and had not been left to her aunt’s bringing up.

Maidlin, her bruises forgotten, raced through the Abbey buildings, across the cloister garth, and down the tresaunt to the gate which led to the Hall. In less than five minutes she was panting out her story to Jen, whom she caught on the terrace, just setting out for the Manor to spend the night with her new mother.

“Maidie! What is it, child?”

“A lady—hurt—the motor,” gasped Maidlin. “It went in the ditch—by the Abbey. Ros says will you send the car to bring her here?—and she isn’t dead—but she looked like it—and—and don’t frighten Joy, Jen.”

Jen ran to the telephone. She rang up the doctor, and then the Manor, asking there for Lady Marchwood’s maid. “Edith, I won’t be able to come to-night. We’ve had an accident; none of us—a friend. I don’t know yet how bad it is. I’ll ring up again later. Tell Lady Marchwood not to expect me.”

Then she called Mary Devine from her study, and told her what she knew. “Don’t say anything to Joy yet. She has gone to bed, so she won’t see us bring her in. It must be Betty McLean, who was here to tea, I’m afraid. I’m going to her now. Get a bedroom ready, Mary; and see to Maidie. She’s had a fearful race. Now, Maidie, exactly where is Betty? The car’s under repair, so we’ll have to carry her. You came through the Abbey; is that nearest? All right; don’t tell Joy yet, unless you have to; if you must, let Mary tell her.”

And she raced off across the lawn and into the Abbey grounds.

Mary asked a few questions of Maidlin, then bade her rest and get her breath, and went off upstairs to prepare a room.

In Ann Watson’s little room within the Abbey walls, Jen bent over Betty, who lay, white and still, on the mattress Ann had hastily stripped from her own bed and given to the frightened chauffeur. He and Rosamund had lifted Betty very carefully and carried her in, without jarring her in any way.

Rosamund gave a sigh of relief. “At last, Brownie! We’ve done all we can think of. Is she a friend of yours? She isn’t dead; but I don’t know how much she’s hurt. She moaned when we lifted her.”

“I knew her when she was your age, and at school.” Jen was steadying herself with a great effort. Her lips quivered, but she bit them fiercely. “You’ve done splendidly, Ros. I’m glad you’ve brought her in here. There’s only one thing more—to wait out in the road and stop the doctor’s car. He needn’t go up to the house. I ’phoned, and he was in and said he’d come at once.”

“Right. I’ll stop him,” and Rosamund slipped out and ran back to the road, and stood straining her eyes for the first sight of the car.

Jen turned to the caretaker. “Ann, could you make up the bed in the little room? If she has some internal injury the doctor may not want her carried all the way to the house. She might be better here for a few days; then we could take her to the Hall afterwards.”

“Yes, Miss Jen—m’lady. Miss Rosamund thought of that. Shall I make it ready now?”

“Rosamund doesn’t lose her head,” Jen said, with relief in her tone. “Yes, I think the bed should be ready. I’ll bathe her head.—Oh, Betty, my dear, I am so sorry!” she whispered, as she took Ann’s place.

But Betty only moaned and did not hear.

Rosamund came in with the doctor, hastily telling how the accident had happened. “What can I do now, Brownie?” she whispered, as they drew back and left him to make his examination.

“If you’d run to the house and ask nurse to come and help,” Jen suggested gratefully. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell Joy about this now. Can you do that, Ros? It won’t hurt her; but tell her gently. I don’t think I ought to go while Dr. Cairns is here; and I couldn’t bear to go until I know what he says.”

“Of course not. She was your friend,” Rosamund nodded. “I’ll tell Joy, Jenny-Wren.” Her eyes met Jen’s bravely; she did not like the task; she was even a little frightened, for Joy was only just beginning to pick up strength after a very terrible shock; though Betty had not been her friend she might very well be distressed by the news of her serious injury at their very gates. But Rosamund would not shirk, and she would not ask Jen to leave her friend at such a moment. And yet nurse must be fetched, and therefore Joy must know.

“You’re a brick, Ros!” Jen whispered warmly. “One other thing; send round to the garage and tell them; the men must help the chauffeur with his car. We must ’phone to Betty’s sister, too, but not till we’ve heard the doctor’s report.” Her lips quivered again. “Betty came to see me,” she said unsteadily. “If she hadn’t cared about me enough to come, she wouldn’t be lying like that now.”

“Don’t be a goat, Brownie,” Rosamund drew her outside the door and spoke vigorously. “She might have come to see you a dozen times and have been all right. It wasn’t you; it was that hen.”

“Hen?” Jen stared at her dazedly.

“Maidie wouldn’t run over it; the silly thing ran out under her wheel. She turned and caught my wheel and we crashed and went down; and then the car came round that sharp corner, perhaps just a shade too quickly. Betty stood up and yelled to the man to stop; they were on top of us, as we’d been on top of the hen a second before, and the man swerved just in time; the car was all mixed up with my bike. It tipped over on the edge of the ditch, and Betty overbalanced and shot out on to her head and was cut by the glass. It was the hen and nobody else, Brownie.”

“I wondered how it happened,” Jen admitted. “Tell Joy all about it, Ros. And send nurse quickly. Make light of it to Joy and Mary; and tell Maidlin it will be all right.”

Rosamund nodded. “Queer, how we all try to save Maidie!” she said to herself. “We seem to think she can’t stand anything. I suppose there’s something in it; she says so little, but so much goes on inside her. She takes things so badly. But she can’t have us to act as fire-screens all her life! She’ll have to come out of her shell and pull herself together—my aunt! What a mixture! I’m thinking wildly to keep myself from thinking about telling Joy. The sooner I get it over the better. There’s no need to be so scared, you ass!” she said to herself severely. “Joy’s all right. She won’t faint or cry or anything. But all the same I don’t like having to tell her bad news.”

“Oh, Ros, how is she? Is she dead?” Maidlin came flying out on to the terrace.

“No, silly. The doctor’s there——”

“Is who dead? Girls, what are you talking about?” Joy had been standing by the open window above them before getting into bed. She leaned out, her long bronze plaits drooping over her white wrapper. “Ros, has anything happened to Jen?” she cried, her voice sharp with terror.

“Maidie, you idiot!—No, Joy, Jen’s all right,” Rosamund called reassuringly. “I’m coming up to tell you all about it. The girl who was here to tea with Jen has had a little accident, that’s all. Jen’s taking care of her; she’s in the Abbey. I’ll come up at once.—Maidie——” and then, at sight of the fear in Maidlin’s face, Rosamund said no further word of reproach. “It’s all right, silly. There’s no harm done. But you must learn to think. I’d been sent to tell Joy gently, and under her very window you shriek out, ‘Is she dead?’ Of course, Joy thinks you mean Jenny-Wren and gets the wind up! Go round to the garage and tell them there’s been an accident to a car outside the Abbey, and they must go to help. Don’t look so blue, you infant! You haven’t done Joy any harm. You’d better come and see for yourself that she’s all right; but go to the garage first.”

“Maidie’ll be in the depths for days now,” she said, as she entered Joy’s room. “You must buck her up somehow, Joy. She thinks she’s done you harm.”

“She mustn’t be a silly child,” Joy said impatiently. “Tell me what’s happened, Rosamund!”

Rosamund glanced at her, as she lay back in a big chair. “She’s nervy still. She had a fright about Jen. She’ll say something to upset Maidie if she isn’t careful,” the thought flashed through her mind.

Then quickly and clearly she told the story. “Jen wants nurse to go, in case the doctor needs help, Joy. Can Maidie and I help you here? Or shall I call Mary?”

“Will you go at once, nurse? You’ll be able to help Jen. You might stay here, Ros; you’d be most use. If one of the children wakes and cries, the other will join in; and I’d want help. Nelly Bell’s out, or it would be all right. Mary will be needed, if they bring Betty here. I didn’t see her, but Jen talked of her as ‘Betty.’ You’d better stay with me,” she said, as nurse hurried away, full of sympathy and eager to help. “Maidie isn’t really——”

Rosamund closed the door with meaning emphasis.

Joy looked at her and knit her brows. “What’s that bang for, Rosamunda?”

Rosamund turned to her, flushed and indignant. “You people! You and Maidie. Don’t you know you’ll break her heart if she hears you say she isn’t any use? Don’t you know she’ll come flying up here to see if her silly question has done you any harm? Don’t you know she’s dying to be of use to you—as we all are? And then you go and say she isn’t really any use! It’s true, but that’s no reason for saying it, is it?” and she faced Joy, hurt indignation in her eyes.

“Oh——!” said Joy helplessly, and gazed at her incredulously.

“I don’t understand you people, who care for one another so much and yet can’t see what you’re doing to one another,” Rosamund said bluntly. “You’re just as bad as Maidie, and you’re seven years older. If she’d heard you she’d have gone and drowned herself in the Manor lake, or hidden herself weeping in the Abbey crypt, or run away to sea, or something. You’d have broken her heart. Why don’t you think sometimes?” Tight-lipped and indignant, she turned and began to pick up the baby-clothes nurse had dropped.

Joy raised her eyebrows at the implied rebuke. Then as she watched Rosamund straightening the room, pausing to lay her hand gently on little Margaret Joan as she stirred and gave a tiny cry, picking up the elder twin and hushing her, laying her down again very carefully, and going on with her tidying and making ready for the evening, Joy’s face changed, losing its resentment, and she gazed absorbedly at the younger girl, as if seeing her for the first time. Rosamund was quiet and business-like and efficient, tall and graceful, with two long yellow plaits hanging down her back; there was no sudden change in her; and yet Joy felt she was looking at a new person. Had this new Rosamund been there always, and had she been unnoticing? Or had the new person sprung to life as Ros faced her with hurt, indignant eyes, and asked her why she did not think? Joy was suddenly sorry and ashamed that she had called up that look and that rebuke. She never questioned its justice; all her life her trouble had been that she did not think.

After a long, thoughtful scrutiny of Rosamund’s determined face, Joy said gravely, “Thank you, Rosamunda. You’ve saved me from doing real harm. I’m deeply grateful.”

In a moment Rosamund was on her knees beside her. “Joy, forgive me! I had no right to speak to you like that.” Her arms went round Joy, and she hid her face in Joy’s lap.

Joy put her arm round her. “What I want to know, Ros, is how you understand so well? You thought for both me and Maidie. How did you manage it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rosamund said brokenly. “I don’t know how I dared to speak like that to you.”

“I’m very glad you did. But what made you understand so well?”

“I don’t know,” Rosamund said helplessly again. “I suppose it was because I’m so frightfully fond of you both. I was wild with Maidie because she’d frightened you; but I went all silly when I thought of how much you might have hurt Maidie. You can say or do what you like to me; but she can’t stand anything. You’d almost kill her if you hurt her, Joy. You don’t know how much she cares about you.”

“What I do seem to see is how much you care for Maidie, Rosamunda,” Joy said, wonder in her tone. “I knew you and she were good chums, but I never thought you cared specially much for her—or for anybody; not out of the ordinary, you know.” Her eyes searched Rosamund’s flushed face curiously.

With a cautious tap on the door, Maidlin cried outside, “May I come in, Joy?”

Rosamund sprang up. “Perhaps I care more than you think. I don’t talk about my feelings. I can’t, if I care enough. I can babble about things that don’t matter.—Give Maidie something to do, Joy. I’m going to help Mary, and be ready if Jen sends for anything.—Maidie, call me or Mary if the babes wake. You stay here and help Joy,” and she fled, first to her own room for a moment, and then to ask Mary Devine to give her something useful to do.