Читать книгу Robins in the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 3

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“Are you travelling quite alone?”

The brown-eyed girl in the brown overcoat and soft hat turned quickly, to see who had spoken in that clear, very sweet voice.

“Yes, but—oh, it’s you! I saw you come on board. You were with—with a party; a lot of children.”

“Yes, the Marchwood twins and the Quellyn babies. I’m Miss Belinda, the twins’ nursery governess.” And the blue eyes laughed back at her. “My name is Belinda Bellanne, but most people call me Lindy.”

“Belinda Bellanne? How fascinating!”

“My sister is Anne Bellanne; we both have old family names. Are you really crossing alone? Then do come along to us sometimes. You looked so forlorn, gazing back at New York as if you’d left all your friends behind!”

The brown girl laughed. “Well, I haven’t. My friends are much farther away than that. My adopted sister came out with me, but she’s staying for some months with very great friends in the West Indies. I want to get home to Mother.”

“The West Indies! That’s a long way off! Oh, well, you must adopt me and the twins till we get to Southampton! I’m sure you’ll like us.”

“I’m sure I should! That’s very kind and generous. But it’s no good, you know. You mustn’t be friends with me.” The brown girl’s face had clouded.

Belinda pushed back the yellow curls which hung round her face, and gazed at the new friend in astonishment.

“But why ever not? Are you a criminal fleeing from justice? Or have you got scarlet fever?”

In spite of herself, the brown girl laughed. “Nothing so dreadful as that. But Lady Quellyn—I saw her come on board; I’ve heard of her, and I knew her by the lovely red hair—she wouldn’t like it. I’m Robin Brent; Robertina, but I’m known as Robin.”

Lindy’s eyes went to the brown hat and coat and caught a gleam of red from a blouse or jumper. “Robin colours! Why on earth should Lady Quellyn object to my being friends with Robin Brent?”

“Then you don’t understand,” Robin said quietly, and turned to look back at New York again. “I inherited the Quellyn family place—Plas Quellyn, in Carnarvonshire—from my godfather, Robert Quellyn. She feels that he ought to have left it to his cousin, Richard, who was her husband’s father. They had quarrelled, and my godfather, who had been in love with Mother, left the estate to me. Lady Quellyn feels Sir Ivor should have had it, and though she’s heard of me, I know she doesn’t want to meet me.”

“Oh!” Lindy said slowly. “Yes, I see how she feels. But it isn’t your fault.”

“No. I couldn’t help it. But I understand how she feels too. Plas Quellyn is the family home, and Sir Ivor, her husband, is the only Quellyn left; now that she has two little Quellyn boys, she’d like them to have it some day. And here am I, just Robin Brent and no bit of Quellyn in me, owning the whole place. She can’t help feeling I’ve butted in. I knew nothing about it till after my godfather’s death, when I was only twelve; I’d never heard of Plas Quellyn. But Lady Quellyn can’t forgive me for—well, for being here.” She smiled at Lindy.

“But how do you know she feels like that? Has she said so?”

“Not to me; I’ve never met her. But I was at school with a girl who knew her. I went to Wood End. You don’t know Wood End School? I knew Benney Bennett and—oh, several girls who knew; they told me.”

Lindy stood gazing back also. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “Poor Lady Joy! We call her Lady Joy, though of course it’s not correct.”

“I’ve heard her called Lady Joy. I’m sorry, too. It makes me uncomfortable to know she grudges my house to me. She looks so marvellous! I’d love to know her and have no sore feeling. But there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Except for Lady Joy to get over her soreness.”

“That, of course. But I can’t do anything.”

“I’m going to tell her I want to be friends with you during the crossing,” Lindy said decisively. “You can’t be left all alone, and I don’t want you to find somebody else. I want you to come in with us. I shall see what Lady Joy says.”

“I’m afraid she’ll object,” Robin said quietly. “I shall understand, if you don’t come back. But I’ll wait and see.” And she smiled again. “I won’t chum up with any one else just at once.”

“Give me time to consult her! I was going to say—to convert her, but I hope that won’t be needed. I’ll go and talk to her right now. If she’s willing, I’ll bring the twins along to see you.” And Lindy nodded and made her way across the crowded deck.

Robin stood by the side, her brown eyes wistful. She had watched the family party come on board: the nurse, carrying a year-old baby; the red-haired twins, ten years old, leading between them their dark little elder step-brother, now nearly two years old; “Miss Belinda” keeping a close eye on the three; and beautiful Lady Quellyn following them all. She knew, from the newspapers, that Sir Ivor Quellyn was remaining in New York for two weeks longer, to take part in an International Music Conference. He would follow his family shortly, but Lady Quellyn, after fifteen months in the States, which had included a dangerous operation and a long convalescence, had been unwilling to delay her return any longer. Robin had liked the look of the little family and had wished friendship had been possible.

In the stateroom, where settling-in was in progress, Lindy poured out the story of her meeting with the girl who owned Plas Quellyn.

Joy raised her brows. “The heiress? Where’s the other one? There were two of them.”

“She’s stayed behind with friends. I like Robin Brent, and she’s lonely. Lady Joy, would you mind?——” Lindy pleaded.

Joy laughed, rather shortly. “Not desperately, Miss Belinda. Don’t expect me to welcome her! That would be rather much to ask. I do grudge that house to her, as she knows very well; it ought to be ours. But do as you like. If the girl’s alone, I know your generous soul will want to be good to her; and I wouldn’t like you to be any different. You and the twinnies can pal with her during the crossing; but don’t bring her to speak to me.”

As soon as she could be spared, Lindy called the twins and went with them in search of Robin, looking relieved, but grave.

“It’s all right for us, but I’m sorry for Lady Joy. It must be horrid to keep a sore feeling like that,” she said to herself.

Robin, still standing alone, heard the same very striking voice say cheerfully, “This is Elizabeth Marchwood, and this is Margaret. Twins, this is Robertina Brent, but she’ll let you call her Aunty Robin, I expect.”

Robin swung round, and looked down into two pairs of amused brown eyes.

“Robertina! That’s a funny name!” said Elizabeth.

“As long as ours,” Margaret added. “I like just Robin best. She’s not our aunty.”

“Then we’ll say just Robin. I like it better, too,” the owner of the name assured them.

“Does the sea make you ill?” Margaret asked.

“Not unless it’s very bad.” Robin smiled down at her.

“I like you when you grin,” Elizabeth cried.

Robin laughed. “That’s a good thing! I’ll grin a lot, just for you, shall I?”

It was the beginning of a pleasant ship-board friendship. Joy held aloof and soon made other acquaintances; she was too well known to have any difficulty in finding her circle. But the twins and Lindy were constantly with Robin Brent, and all four enjoyed the companionship and were sorry that it must come to an end in a few days.

An evening concert organised by the passengers brought surprises for Robin, for after Lady Quellyn had played a Beethoven sonata, the twins came forward, Elizabeth carrying a small ’cello and Margaret a violin, and joined their mother in a simple but tuneful and gay little piece, written by her especially for them. For their age they played well, and they were not nervous and acknowledged the delighted applause with little bobbed curtseys which reminded Robin of country-dancing at school. Then came another surprise, for Lindy stood up to sing, and her voice rang out with a clear bird-like quality which was delightful.

“I wondered what your speaking voice meant!” Robin told her at the end of the concert. “I noticed it from the first words you said. But I didn’t know you were a singer.”

“I’m hoping to be a singer some day,” Lindy corrected her. “I want to sing in oratorio, with Maidlin di Ravarati, who is now Mrs. Robertson.”

“I’ve heard her sing, before her marriage. Your voice is like a lark’s.”

“That’s what she said the first time she heard me sing,” Lindy laughed. “She’s lovely. But she’s been too busy to sing in public lately; she’s just had two baby girls. We’re rushing home to see them.”

“More twins!” Robin exclaimed.

“There’s another set as well. Her best friend is the Countess of Kentisbury, and she had twin girls just seven weeks ago.”

“Oh, I know the Countess! She’s been terribly kind to our school, and she often comes to see us. I still think of it as my school, though I left a year ago; I’m twenty now. We were all at the Kentisbury wedding; the school formed the guard of honour for the bride—we knew her as Rosamund Kane. I saw Lady Quellyn at the wedding, and Miss di Ravarati and the twins were bridesmaids, and we saw other friends of theirs as well. I feel I know all their crowd by sight, though I haven’t spoken to any of them. I saw in the papers about the Kentisbury twins. How I’d love to see them!”

“Perhaps you will, some day. You can understand we’re in a hurry to get home, to see four new babies!”

“I’m not likely to see them, I’m afraid. Quellyn is far away, in a lonely part of North Wales.”

“It sounds odd to hear you say ‘Quellyn’ like that,” Lindy observed. “I hadn’t realised it was a place as well as a surname.”

“Lady Quellyn would think it odd to hear me say it.” And a shadow fell on Robin’s face.

“Do you live there all the time? It sounds lonely.”

“We love the country. Mother and I live there, and Gwyneth, my adopted sister. Father’s often abroad; he hasn’t given up his business interests, and he travels a great deal. One of my brothers is in Edinburgh, studying medicine; the younger one’s in the Navy and is hardly ever at home. Mother and Gwyn and I have settled at Quellyn, now that we’re done with school. We’ve heaps to do; we’re remaking the garden, for one thing. I’ve been away for three months. I’m rather craving to get back to Mother now. She’s going to meet me at Southampton.”

“You’re jolly lucky to have a mother to meet you! I’ve only one sister in the world, though she’s a particularly nice one.”

“You seem to have friends who are just like your own family, though.”

“Oh, yes! I’m not lonely,” Lindy said happily. “I’m terribly sorry for lonely people. Nan and I might so easily have been two forlorn strays; it was just a chance we fell in with these Abbey people. I’ll tell you the story to-night after the twins are in bed.”

“Abbey people? Oh, I remember. They live near a ruined Abbey, don’t they?” Robin asked with interest.

“Rather! I wish you could see it. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Benney Bennett told me about it. I’d like to see it,” Robin admitted. “But I don’t see much chance of it.”

“You and your mother could be tourists and pay a shilling to come in and be shown round,” Lindy suggested.

“We’ll think about it,” Robin agreed.