Читать книгу A Dancer from the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 9

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Rachel stood looking at the key. “Marry understands,” she said to herself. “Well, that’s something! I’d feel worse if it meant nothing to her.”

“Is it——? Oh, I see! How thoughtful of Damson!” Benedicta exclaimed.

Rachel glanced at her. “You’ll go on with your job, won’t you? I know there’s heaps to do. I’d better go in,” and she disappeared through the Abbey gate.

Benedicta pursed her lips. “She can’t go and cry in the oratory, for fear visitors come. It’s hard on her. But I couldn’t show tourists round. Ray’s on duty; she’ll have to wait. I can’t help her. I’ll carry on with that weeding.”

Rachel stood looking at the telephone. “I’d better ring Lady Jen. It seems natural to tell her things, and she’ll hear to-morrow, when Mr. Grandison comes back. She’d wonder why I hadn’t said anything.”

She rang up the Manor. “Lady Jen? Damaris has gone. I thought you’d better know.”

“Gone? Oh, my dear, what do you mean?”

Rachel told what had happened and the plan for the next day. There was a pause, while Jen took in the news. Then she said quietly, “That all seems very well arranged. One can sympathise in her excitement. What about you, Ray?”

“Nothing. I’m all right, Mrs. Brown.”

“That old nickname always makes me laugh! Are you feeling very desolate?”

“Yes, Mrs. Brown.”

“I was afraid you would. Could you come here for the night, when you close the Abbey to visitors?”

“Oh, no! It’s a kind idea, but I must be here. Marry might ring up to tell me what Madame says. I don’t really think it will occur to her, but if it does I wouldn’t like her to get no answer.”

“I see. Will you keep Benedicta for the night?”

“No.” Rachel’s tone was almost defiant. “Marry suggested it, but I don’t want anybody. I’m perfectly safe; no one can get into the Abbey.”

“I know, but I don’t like to think of you all alone.”

“I’d much rather, honestly. Don’t worry about me. I wouldn’t have told you, but I knew you’d hear it from Mr. Grandison to-morrow.”

“Yes, of course. I say, Ray! I like him quite a lot.”

“So do I. He seems kind and understanding.”

“Wouldn’t it be fun if Dammy-Marry married him and went to look after his rock-garden in the North? Or do you want him yourself?”

“Oh, no! I’ve married the Abbey. I won’t have anyone else.”

“I rather thought you felt like that. Well, Damaris, then.”

“Oh, I wish she would!” It was a heartfelt cry from Rachel. “I’d feel so much happier about her! But I’m afraid she’ll never marry. And I’m afraid of something else, Mrs. Brown.”

“That he’ll want her and break his heart if he can’t get her?”

“Just that. He thinks she’s marvellous.”

“He’s old enough to look after himself. You can’t do anything. Perhaps he’ll win her away from the stage.”

“Dancing means so much to her. I haven’t much hope.” Rachel rang off and went to her work-room.

Benedicta, creeping to the gate to listen, heard the sound of the typewriter. “Oh, good! She’s working. She said she was going to copy out a story. She won’t have time to think.”

By a great effort Rachel kept her mind fixed on the manuscript for an hour. Original work would have been impossible; she could not have lost herself in it. But, desperately determined to concentrate, she managed to type her story and even felt some satisfaction in the clean pages as she slipped them into a drawer and went to put on the kettle.

“Tea, Benedicta!” she called presently.

Benedicta came eagerly. “I’m always dying for it! Did you finish your story?”

“The typing’s done. I still have to read it through. And I’ve done a letter to Marigold in Ceylon, about the Coronation and telling her our news. Jansy will write, but Marigold will want to hear about Damaris from me. I rather hoped some tourists would come, but we’re having a quiet day, so far as visitors are concerned. You heard what Marry said about the night?”

Benedicta glanced at her. “I heard. But you don’t want me, do you?”

“I don’t mean to be unkind, but I’d rather be alone. Do you mind?”

“No, but I’d like to be company for you. She didn’t want you to be all on your own.”

“It’s perfectly safe. I don’t want company. Don’t tease me, Benedicta.”

Benedicta said no more. She worked late, doing the weeding which Damaris had neglected; then she called good-night, but was not surprised to receive no answer. Rachel, released from duty, had taken off her white gown, pulled on a big coat and gone to the oratory.

Soberly, Benedicta went to her room in the village, and thought much before she slept of the girl who had gone from the Abbey and the girl who was left alone.

No schoolgirls came to the Abbey that night. Rachel was relieved and wondered if Jen had passed on the news to the Hall. Joy and Mary would be home by now; it was kind of them not to ring up and sympathise. She could guess how Jen would insist that she must be left in peace.

She sat on the floor in the Abbot’s little room, on the rug Damaris had placed there, and thought, heavily and desolately, of the changes that had come so suddenly. She was not the sort to cry easily, but a feeling of dead depression came down and seemed to crush her. There was nothing to cry about. It was right for Damaris to go back to her old life; it was necessary that she herself should stay in the Abbey. She wanted to stay; she wanted Damaris to go. But the separation hurt her; she could not take it lightly.

She rose at last, very cold and stiff, and went up the steps to the oratory, to kneel where the abbots had knelt and to pray, as they had prayed, for one who must leave the Abbey sanctuary and go out into the trials of the world.

Then, a little comforted, she went down to the garth, realising suddenly that she was shivering.

“I must have a fire and a hot drink,” the thought. “It doesn’t seem worth while cooking supper for myself, but I must do it. That’s one of the things about which I’ll have to be careful. I mustn’t turn into an idiot who lives on tea and bread and butter. I’ll have an egg, though it seems silly to do just one. I’d much rather creep into bed and eat a biscuit.”

She paused on the garth, to let the silence and peace of the old place soak into her; the quiet was broken only by the hooting of an owl. At last she turned to her home within the walls.

Then she stopped, in great surprise and almost in fear, for light was streaming out into the passage, and the black kitten sat washing her face in the shining doorway, having obviously just been fed.

“Who? What? Marry?” she cried.

Mary Devine, Joy’s secretary at the Hall, came to meet her.

“Forgive me, Ray! Jen told us your story, when we came home from The Pallant, and begged me to come and see that you were properly fed. She was afraid you’d go to bed without troubling about supper.”

The rose-coloured curtains were drawn, a small fire flickered in the grate; the golden cat lay singing happily on the hearthrug, half asleep. With grave courtesy he came to meet Rachel, purring his usual noisy roar, and she bent and stroked his head and clapped his comfortable flanks.

The electric light was glowing under its crimson shade, and the table was laid for a meal for two, a bowl of three red rosebuds in the centre.

“Joy sent those,” Mary explained. “They’re early, aren’t they? She cut all there were in the greenhouse for you.”

“How kind!” Rachel stood and looked round. “Oh, Mary! It’s home! When I think of the bustle and noise of London——!”

“But Damaris enjoys the rush and excitement,” Mary reminded her. “You two are very different, you know. She’ll be happy, and perfectly safe. Now, Ray, I was going to make an omelette as soon as you came in, but I know your omelettes are rather special. Would you prefer to do it yourself? Everything is ready.”

Rachel flung off her coat. “I’ll do it. Mary, you are good! Weren’t you tired, after being out all day? And after last night?”

“Not a bit! I’m going to tell you about Maidlin and Baby Paul, when you’ve finished cooking.”

“Yes, please. I want to hear all about our newest cousin.”

“His father calls him Jackie-Paul. Maid is very happy and very proud of her boy. Shall I stay with you for the night? I brought a tooth-brush and a few things, in case you’d like to have me.”

Rachel, busy with her eggs, smiled across at her. “There’s no need, but I’d like you to stay. I thought I couldn’t bear to have anybody, but you’re rather a special person, like my omelettes, aren’t you? It’s a very dark night; I’d have to go with you through the garden, and then you’d have to come back with me, and we should never get to bed at all. Stay with me, Mary-Dorothy! You shall have one cat for company and I’ll have the other. You’ll tell me about Maid and the little girls and Jackie-Paul, and I’ll tell you about Mr. Grandison’s visit and more about Damaris.”