Читать книгу The Abbey Girls on Trial - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 6

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“Elspeth has Eleanor heavily on her mind,” Audrey thought more than once, during the next few days. “She can’t throw things off. I feel Eleanor has made a mistake; but we can’t do anything to help her now. Even if her husband gives her money and a position, she’s lost something; for she doesn’t pretend she loves him. How could she, with nearly forty years between their ages? She’s chosen to do without love, and she’ll regret it. But it won’t help her for us to be unhappy.”

Elspeth’s classes in the seaside town to which she went by bus closed three days after the arrival of Eleanor’s startling letter. She had left school the summer before, but had been working at shorthand and book-keeping at a secretarial college, so that she should have a second subject if the Squirrel House should ever close its doors. Her heart was not in the work, but she was a good student and had made progress.

Now she felt that everything was changed, however. She came in on the last day of term, and threw her books on the kitchen table.

“Are you there, Audrey? I’ll help to washup. Audrey, I needn’t go back to the office, need I? You do see that things are different now, don’t you?”

“Because Eleanor is married?” Audrey fetched a rubber apron and went to the sink.

“Of course. We aren’t expecting her to come back and help you now.”

“We certainly are not,” Audrey agreed. “And you think it’s your job to take her place?”

“Well, isn’t it? You can’t do it all. Three of us weren’t needed, so you thought I’d better learn something else. But now I want to work here, along with you.”

Audrey twirled her mop in a cup. “Are you sure? You’ve made a good start at your shorthand. It’s a pity to lose it unless you feel certain you’ll stick to the Squirrel. It means cooking and cleaning all day long. I’d love to have you. But are you sure you’ll like it?”

“Certain. If I don’t I’ll stick to it, all the same. But I shall like this, Audrey. In any case, I ought to be helping you.”

“Then you shall, my dear. I’m very glad you feel like that,” Audrey said. “I wouldn’t have asked you to bury yourself here among the woods. It seems so much more thrilling to go in to town and to see the sea every day; and you aren’t much more than a kiddy. You ought to be with other girls—and boys. I didn’t want to defraud you of your rights.”

“We’ll see plenty of people here,” Elspeth remarked. “I don’t want cinemas and dance-halls and the pier. I like the sands, but I loathe the prom. You could hardly walk along it for the trippers to-day.”

Audrey laughed. “Poor trippers! Their one day at the sea in the whole year!”

“I know. I try to remember that. I don’t mind their being on the prom., but I don’t want to be there too——.”

At a tap on the outer door they both looked up in astonishment.

“May I come in?” a shy voice asked. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody anywhere. You aren’t away, for I can hear you washing-up.”

Audrey and Elspeth hurried out, Audrey looking puzzled. Elspeth’s eyes were excited and her colour had risen.

In the doorway stood the dark-eyed foreign girl, Maidlin, in her orange suit and cap. Her hands were full of red and pink and yellow rosebuds.

“Why, it’s Miss—we didn’t catch your name,” Audrey exclaimed.

“I knew your voice,” Elspeth smiled a shy welcome.

“How nice of you to remember! I’m Madalena di Ravarati, but I don’t expect anybody to remember that. So I’m just Maidlin, please. These are for you,” and Maidlin thrust the roses into Elspeth’s hands.

“They’re lovely! But why—oh, you aren’t thinking I really minded what you said? You couldn’t think me such a baby!” Elspeth cried.

“I know you did mind. I was unkind, and I was sorry,” Maidlin spoke impetuously. “I couldn’t say it before the others, and Ros had made it all right. She always helps me out of holes. I’m afraid I keep her busy! But I thought about it afterwards, and I was sorry I’d been horrid to you.”

“Oh, but you weren’t! It was I who was silly,” Elspeth stammered, quite overcome.

“I was thoughtless, and I hurt your feelings. I asked Joy what I’d better do, for she saw I was worried. Joy? We live with her and the twins; she’s Lady Marchwood, and she’s my guardian. I’m only twenty-one, and they decided I mustn’t be of age till I’m twenty-five. I’m glad,” Maidlin confessed. “I feel more like seventeen. I don’t want to be of age. I like leaving all the business to Joy. I wish they’d made it thirty!”

“Will there be so much business?” Audrey asked laughing. “And have you come alone? Or are your friends hiding somewhere?”

“I came alone. There will be rather a lot to do; there are things in Italy I’ll have to look after. But I’m not going to worry until I must. Joy suggested that I should come, to make sure you’d forgiven me, so I brought some flowers; I knew they’d give you a better message than I could.”

“They are beauties! I’ve been looking at the gorgeous ones in the shops in town,” Elspeth confessed. “We have only little cottage roses. These are duchesses or court beauties!”

Maidlin laughed. “Is it too late to ask you for a cup of tea? We’ve come a long way.”

“In two minutes,” Audrey promised. “I’ll take some out to the car too. You didn’t come quite alone, I suppose?”

“No, Frost drove the car. Joy would be nervous if I’d come alone. I can drive, but I don’t go out without Rosamund or Joy,” Maidlin explained. “Ros had a class this evening, so I came alone.”

“What sort of class does she go to?” Elspeth’s thoughts had been often with friendly Rosamund.

“Oh, I mean she had to teach a class! She teaches country-dancing to our Guides and to the Women’s Institute. She’s a jolly good teacher.”

“And how is little Rosemary Jane?” asked Audrey, spreading a green cloth under a green umbrella.

Elspeth quietly but firmly removed it and spread it under a yellow umbrella instead. “I’m sure Maidlin will like that better.”

“I like them all. It is so pretty! Rosemary Jane’s topping, a little angel. She’s three weeks old now.”

“And is that still her name? Or has it been changed again?” Elspeth filled a green bowl with water and began to arrange the roses.

“No, I think it’s really fixed that she’s Rosemary Jane.”

“And has Mrs. Raymond’s little boy begun with measles yet?” Audrey asked.

“Oh yes! He always copies Janice in everything. But he isn’t ill; he’s a lovely kid, and always very well. Joan can’t come near us till he’s better, because of Elizabeth and Margaret.”

“Are those the twins—Lady Marchwood’s twins?”

“Yes, Joy’s twins. Ros and I were her first children.” Maidlin sank into a basket chair under the yellow umbrella. “She adopted us when she was only twenty-one, seven years ago. I’ve often thought how brave she was! I was just a baby of fourteen, but Ros, at fifteen, wasn’t a baby at all. It was tremendously sporting of Joy. But she had Jenny-Wren to help her; she always says Jen pulled her through.”

Audrey brought a tray, with a green plate and cup and saucer. “I’m beginning to understand about Lady Marchwood and the twins and Rosamund. But who is Miss Jenny-Wren?”

Maidlin’s eyes widened. “She’s the mother of Rosemary Jane. She’s Lady Marchwood too.”

“No, no! That’s too muddling,” Audrey protested. “How does she manage it? She can’t be allowed to be another Lady Marchwood!”

“Rosamund told me. She married a brother.” Elspeth looked up from her roses.

“How trying of her! But—oh!” and Audrey’s face grew grave. “Have the twins no father?”

“He died before they were born,” Maidlin explained. “Joy was only married for one year. She never lived in his house at all. They went to London, and from there to Kenya for their honeymoon; and he never came home. Joy came back to her own house, and the twins were both girls, so Andrew’s brother became Sir Kenneth. As he’d married Jen, who was Joy’s best friend, that made Jen another Lady Marchwood.”

“It isn’t so puzzling when you understand how it happened,” Audrey admitted.

“Jen’s eldest boy is called Andrew after him. The second is Antony, after Sir Antony who left the Abbey to Joan. Then there’s Rosemary Jane.”

“A nice little family! And you all live close together?”

“Next door. Jen’s garden meets ours. Her house is the Manor and ours is the Hall.”

“And where is the Abbey?”

“In our garden. It’s beautiful. Couldn’t you come to see it?”

Audrey laughed. “The worst of our job is that we can’t take holidays. Other folks’ holidays are our busy times,” and she went indoors to make the tea.

As she worked, she saw Elspeth and Maidlin walking round the garden together.

“I’m glad she came. Elspeth will have something new to think about, and something pleasanter than blaming Eleanor. She’s always inclined to brood over any trouble. Oh, how glad I am the kid has decided to stay at home! I wouldn’t have asked her to do it, but it’s what I was hoping for. We’ll make a good thing of the Squirrel between us; I’ve heaps of plans. But Eleanor wasn’t keen, and she wouldn’t back me up. Elspeth has all the imagination that’s needed; if I can stir her up we can go ahead. I’m seeing visions and dreaming dreams!”

Elspeth, among the lupins and pansies, was shyly telling Maidlin of her new plans.

“It’s only been decided this afternoon. I shall ask Audrey to teach me cake-making; she had a proper course of lessons, but I shan’t need that, as I can learn from her. And I thought I’d take on the gardening; she hasn’t time for it. I don’t know whether she’ll keep on Alice, the girl who has been helping her, but if not, there’ll be washing-up all day as well. I’d far rather be in a kitchen or a garden than in an office.”

“Oh, so would I! Kitchens are fascinating. I used to live on a farm, before I came to live with Joy,” Maidlin explained. “I was brought up in a farm kitchen. My mother went away to be in service in London, and when she died——”

Elspeth was staring at her wide-eyed. “Your mother?”

“She was a housemaid,” Maidlin said composedly. “In a big house in London. My father saw her; he was staying in the house. He married her, and then he had to go back to Italy. I was born, and she died, and he left me with my aunts on the farm. His father in Italy was very angry, for there was a lot of money to come to him. But he died, and my grandfather died, and in a few years the money will be mine. I’m rather afraid of it; I wish I hadn’t been an heiress. But it was because of the money that Joy adopted me; she was so sorry for me, you see.”

“I don’t see!” Elspeth exclaimed. “Why was she sorry because you were an heiress?”

“I was staying with my other aunt, who is the caretaker of Joan’s Abbey. She couldn’t teach me the things I had to know, and the way I ought to live. Joy saw how awful it was for me, and she took me into her family,” Maidlin explained. “I didn’t understand at the time, but now I know all that it has meant and what a difference it has made. I suppose I’d have been sent to boarding-school if Joy hadn’t adopted me; but even school wouldn’t have been all I needed. It’s not like living with people. I’d still have looked at everything from the farmhouse point of view. You know what I mean?”

“Did Lady Marchwood take you into her own house?” Elspeth asked, intensely interested. “Weren’t you scared stiff?”

“Oh, I was terrified! And Ros was there, and I was afraid of her too, and dreadfully jealous. I couldn’t bear it if Joy spoke to her or took any notice of her. I was a little silly,” Maidlin sighed. “But it was all so new, and I was so frightened, and they all seemed so queer—Joy and Jen and Ros!—There’s your sister with my tea.”

“I’ll take some out to your man,” and Elspeth hurried forward. “Audrey, I’ve been slacking again! I spend all my time telling you I’m sorry!”

“Not this time. You’ve been entertaining our guest. You’ll find a tray ready for the chauffeur,” Audrey nodded.

Maidlin begged to be shown the woods when her meal was over. “And squirrels, if possible, please!”

“You go, Audrey. I’ll tidy things here,” Elspeth suggested.

“Nonsense! I’m sure you can produce more squirrels than I can. Run along, but don’t forget Miss Maidlin’s long drive home.”

“Oh, you mustn’t call me that!” Maidlin’s tone was shocked. “It’s so unfriendly. I shall think you don’t like me!”

Audrey laughed, and carried a tray indoors.

In a corner near the pond the two girls crouched to watch a red squirrel dart across the path and up a long bare stem. Then, as Maidlin would have risen, Elspeth caught her arm, and they held their breath as a vivid streak of blue flashed across the pool.

“What was it?” Maidlin whispered. “What a gorgeous colour!”

“The kingfisher. He lives over there. But he’s very shy; it was just a chance to see him.”

“A lucky chance for me. I’m so glad I came with you! It will be something to tell the girls to-morrow. We have meetings in our beech woods,” Maidlin explained. “We sit round a camp fire and sing and tell stories. Sometimes we all report some beautiful thing we’ve seen. I shall tell about the kingfisher and the squirrel.” And as she walked with Elspeth down the wood paths she told of her Camp Fire Girls and of her duties as Guardian.

“Why aren’t the squirrels shy?” she asked. “Don’t you have picnic parties in the woods? I should have thought they’d have driven all the squirrels and kingfishers away.”

“Oh, but this part is private,” Elspeth explained. “The open parts of the woods are across the road. People picnic there all the time. Behind us the land belongs to the big house at the foot of the hill, and it has been shut up for years. So the birds and squirrels use it as a sort of sanctuary, we think. We’re allowed to wander there, but not many other people go. That’s why we love it so.”

“Elspeth’s a solitary being,” Audrey said laughing. “She loves to be alone. Crowds don’t attract her in the slightest.”

“I know how she feels,” Maidlin agreed. “But we couldn’t live like that,” and she looked at Elspeth. “It would be dreadful if we all lived on our own.”

“I know. It’s horrible to want to go off and enjoy yourself all alone by a pool in the woods,” Elspeth agreed. “It’s unsociable, and it’s no good to anybody. But it’s how I’m made. What do you think I ought to do about it?” Her answering look at Maidlin was not entirely in joke; there was seriousness behind.

“I think there are different sorts of people and we’re all needed,” Maidlin said promptly. “There are plenty who prefer to be in a crowd. Perhaps the woods will teach you something useful to do that you couldn’t learn with packs of people about.”

Elspeth coloured. “Perhaps, some day,” she admitted.

“You can’t tell me, of course. But perhaps you’re going to be an artist, or a poet, or a novelist, and you have to go away and think by yourself. I live with somebody who writes books, and I know what she’s like at times.”

“Lady Marchwood? Does she write?” Audrey asked with interest.

“Not books. Joy writes lovely songs. No, I mean Mary Dorothy Devine, who writes books for girls.”

“But she doesn’t live with you, does she?” Elspeth asked, in amazement. “I’ve some of her books, and I love them.”

“She’s one of our family. She’s Joy’s secretary, when she isn’t writing books. She goes into the woods alone. Perhaps you’re going to write books, too,” and Maidlin looked at Elspeth again.

“You are queer people! How many more are there in your family?” Elspeth cried.

“We’re always adopting somebody,” Maidlin said sedately. “Joy and Jenny-Wren will do it; it’s their way. Now I really must go. Thank you so much for the tea and the kingfisher!”