Читать книгу Robins in the Abbey - Elsie Jeanette Dunkerley - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Robin followed Jen Marchwood through the Abbey ruins, entranced by the peace and beauty of the ancient place. Her visit to Maidlin’s little dark girls, and her reply to Joy’s enquiries, had taken only a few moments, and Jen had led her away for a first glimpse of the Abbey.

“Maid will be tired. She isn’t strong yet, and it’s been very exciting to show her twins to Joy. We’ll leave them to rest. I’d like to be the one to show you the Abbey.”

“I don’t know you by sight,” Robin said shyly. “I saw all the others at Lady Kentisbury’s wedding, when we danced on the village green; but your little girl was ill and you couldn’t be there.”

Jen looked grave. “It was a terrible day for us. Rosemary had a very bad operation. She isn’t too strong, even now. I hate the thought of leaving her, though I know she’ll have the best of care.” And she told of her husband’s serious illness and the long holiday insisted on by the doctors.

While she talked, they crossed the lawn and took a shrubbery path, which led to an old gate in a wall. Jen unlocked the gate and stood aside, her attitude saying—“There!”—though she did not speak.

“Oh!” Robin cried. “Oh, how beautiful!”

The wide lovely windows of the refectory, facing them, looked down on a tiny garden, with roses, lilies, and pansies, a stone seat and a flagged path. The path led to an arched doorway, and through a dark tunnel came a gleam of sunlit green.

“This is the Abbot’s garden. The infirmary for sick folk was over there, but it has gone.” Jen’s voice was quiet. “This high place is the refectory; the kitchens and penance-chambers are underneath. The passage through the arch is the tresaunt, leading to the cloister garth, where the monks were buried; the heart of the Abbey. Come and I’ll show you.”

Standing in the sunshine on the smooth lawn, Jen pointed to the grey walls which enclosed the little square of green and told what lay behind each. “The refectory again, on the south side. That blank north wall is where the great church used to be; I’ll show you pictures of it in the refectory. On the east here’s the chapter-house; yes, beautiful windows and doorway; and the parlour, where the monks were allowed to talk; and the stairs leading up to the dormitory. That row of windows above is the dormitory. The monks’ day-room is here, where we came in; the entrance, and the way out to the gate-house, are over there on the west, where the cloisters still remain, just on that one side. There’s a lot to see, and there are mysterious places underground; the glorious old church in the crypt, and the tomb of the first Abbot Michael. We called our third boy after him. The eldest is Andrew, for Joy’s first husband—my husband’s brother; the second is Antony, for Sir Antony Abinger, who restored the Abbey when it was used as farm buildings and made it beautiful again. When he died he left it to Joan, now Mrs. Raymond, and he left the Hall to Joy; he was her grandfather. I’ll take you for a quick look round and then leave you to wander by yourself, and to-morrow I’ll come again and we’ll do it thoroughly, and I’ll tell you all the stories and legends. You’ll enjoy them more if you’ve got the feeling of the place first.”

Robin realised later how wise this had been and how much more she was able to appreciate Jen’s history when the atmosphere of the Abbey had soaked into her mind. She was also told by Maidlin, and by Joy, and by Mary Devine, how fortunate she had been to be introduced to the Abbey by Jen, who loved it as much and knew it as well as did Joan herself.

“Look at this little chap! He thinks the Abbey belongs to him. I always bring something for him,” and Jen flung a handful of crumbs to the inquisitive robin who had followed them about the ruins.

“My namesake,” Robin said. “I’ll remember to bring him a present too.”

“He does very well. Mrs. Watson, the caretaker, feeds him, I know.”

With a final “Cheer up! Try not to feel too bad!” Jen went off to her family, and Robin wandered about alone, delighting in the beauty of the ruins and feeling the peace of centuries healing her frightened mind. She had been instructed to slip out by the Abbot’s garden, if tourists came to be shown round, or, if she could not escape, to hide in the little room which the twins and Miss Belinda had used as a schoolroom, but which had once been a bedroom for Jen and for Mary-Dorothy, and in schoolgirl days for Joy and Joan themselves, and since that time for many other friends. She looked inside and was seized with a great longing.

“I wonder if they’d let me sleep there! Although they’re all so kind, and in spite of what Lady Kentisbury said, I feel I’m a stranger here and they’re such a family party. The house must be very full; Mrs. Robertson’s husband will be back from London before night, she said. I shall feel in the way. Oh, I wonder if they would! But I’d be farther from the telephone.” And her face grew grave again.

Filled with the idea, she went back to the house at last, locking the old gate behind her.

“Oh!” She paused on the lawn. “Here’s somebody new! How jolly she looks!”

On the terrace stood a slim girl of fourteen, in riding-breeches, with a green pullover, and a vivid orange scarf tucked in at the neck; she was bare-headed and had big dark eyes, and dark brown curls tumbling about her face. She ran down the steps to the lawn and came to meet the stranger, with no trace of shyness—only an eager desire to make her feel at home.

“You must be Robin. I needn’t say Miss Brent, need I? Thanks awfully; it would only have been for half-an-hour. You’d have been sure to turn into Robin before long. Mary-Dorothy told me about you; I’m to bring you in and give you tea. Lady Joy is having hers upstairs with Maidlin and the babies, and Mary has gone to look for Lindy and the twins, who seem to have lost themselves somewhere in the garden. So I’m to look after you; you must be dying for your tea. I’m Joan Fraser, but everybody calls me Littlejan, or Marigold. Shall I tell you why?”

“Please do!” Robin smiled at her. “Either name seems to need some explaining.”

“I’ll tell you when you’ve had some tea. It’s ready,” and Littlejan led her into the big hall, and made her sit in the corner of an old oak settle, where a round table was drawn up and spread for tea.

A maid brought the teapot, and Littlejan sat down to preside, pressing her guest to help herself to hot scones or bread and butter.

“The Hamlet Club chose me for its Queen, last May, and I took orange for the colour of my train and marigolds for my flowers,” she explained, throwing aside the vivid scarf from her neck. “That’s why I’m called Marigold; the Queen usually has a nickname. I’ve been to Kentisbury for my riding practice; my pony, Chestnut, lives in the stables there, and the Countess sends the small car to fetch me for my lesson twice a week during the holidays. There isn’t time once term begins; being Queen, I’m kept jolly busy. Littlejan was my home name; Father’s name for me, because I’m so like Mother, whose name is Janice. Home used to be in the South Sea Islands, but we’ve moved to Ceylon since I came home to school, and I’ve a new little sister, just three weeks old, called Cecily Rose, after the Abbey bell and the Countess. Mother helped to find the bell, a year ago; and the Countess was just terribly good to us when we arrived in this country. Now that’s all about me. I’ve heard about you; you mustn’t worry too much! I expect good news will come quite soon. What did you think of the Abbey?”

“I loved it,” Robin said simply. “I want to stay in it. Would they let me sleep in that little room?”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that!” Littlejan cried, her tone shocked.

“Oh? I’m sorry! But why not? Lady Marchwood said several people had slept there.”

“Oh yes! That would be all right. But you’d be so far away from everybody.”

“From the telephone. Yes, I thought of that,” Robin admitted, her face clouding.

“That wouldn’t matter. The telephone’s in the Abbey; we could pass on the message to you. I don’t mean that.” Littlejan spoke earnestly. “Don’t you see? You might want to speak to somebody; you might feel suddenly bad—lonely or frightened, in the night. Until you’ve had good news, you simply mustn’t go and bury yourself all alone in the Abbey! Presently, when you know your mother’s safe and your father’s going on well, you can sleep in the Abbey; you’ll love it. It’s so peaceful and quiet. But just now you must be near people, so that you can come to somebody if you want company.”

Robin flushed. “How very kind of you to think of that! But I couldn’t bother people, however bad I felt.”

“But they’ll want you to bother them. They’ll expect it,” Littlejan assured her. “I don’t suppose Lindy or I would be much use, as we’re younger than you; though Lindy can be very comforting. She helped me, on my first night here, when my mother had gone off to Scotland in a hurry, and I was lonely and sure she’d have a train smash in the night.”

Robin shivered. “That’s how I feel.”

“Yes, but why should she? Thousands of people fly safely, and after an accident is the safest time, for everybody will be so extra careful. You don’t ever get two crashes at the same place and the same time! But if you felt like that in the night you’d just have to go to somebody, and Mrs. Watson in the Abbey wouldn’t be the slightest use.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t!”

“You could! Not to Lady Joy, perhaps; I don’t know—I haven’t seen her yet. But you could go to Mary-Dorothy!” Littlejan leaned forward and spoke eagerly. “Every one goes to Mary’s room when they’re in a mess or when things go wrong; I’ve done it myself. She always helps. And she seems so surprised and pleased, if you go to her; as if you’d paid her a compliment she didn’t feel she deserved. She’d be so touched and happy if you went and cried in her room and said you were frightened and lonely! She’d give you coffee and biscuits and cheer you up. You can’t go away into the Abbey and lose the chance of being helped by Mary-Dorothy!”

Robin gazed at her, fascinated by her earnest pleading tone. “The school was very sensible when they chose you as Queen.”

Littlejan flushed. “What has my being Queen to do with your going to Mary’s room at night?”

“There is a connection, but I can’t explain it,” Robin told her seriously.

“I don’t see it! But you’ll remember that Mary-Dorothy would want you to go, won’t you?”

“Is Mrs. Robertson’s second twin called after her?”

“Dorothy is for Mary, and Rose is for Lady Kentisbury. The other one is Marjory, for Dr. Robertson’s mother, who died last year; and Joy, of course.”

“Why did you go to Miss Mary at night? Were you bothered about your mother?”

“No, Lindy helped me that time. But she’d gone to America, to take the twins to Lady Joy, who was very ill after a bad operation. I was bothered about something at school.”

“But how could Miss Mary help you about school troubles?”

“She did help. It was about the dancing Club, the Hamlet Club. Mary told me to tell Aunty Joan—Mrs. Raymond; she’s my godmother and I’m called after her, but they couldn’t have two Joans in the family, so they call me Littlejan. I told her all about it and she told me what to do.”

“What was wrong with the Club? What did Mrs. Raymond suggest?”

“She told me to tell the President, Mrs. Everett—but they call her Cicely. I went to tea with her and she gave me some marvellous ideas. She’s just had a baby girl; everybody is so pleased!”

“Thank you for looking after Robin for me, Littlejan Fraser!—I mean, Queen Marigold!” cried a voice from the staircase. “Let me look at you! Oh, you are like your mother! You’re just Jandy Mac over again!”

“Lady Joy!” Joan the Second sprang up, eager and excited, and bobbed a country-dance curtsey. Her voice rang out in delight. “Oh, you’re just like Aunty Joan! And the twins, of course. Everybody told me the twins were the image of you!” and she gazed up at Joy, while Joy looked down at her, both glad to meet at last.

“I’ve heard such heaps about you,” Littlejan told her.

“And I’ve heard so much about you, from Miss Belinda,” Joy assured her. “The reigning Queen! I’m glad to meet you, Marigold.”

Littlejan bobbed again. “I can’t imagine why they chose me, but it’s fun being Queen,” she said.

“I know it’s fun,” Joy agreed. “I’m sure you’re a good Queen,” and she came down the steps to the hall.