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

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“But it’s all different!” The girl, small and slight, with lint-white hair curling on her neck, ran to the Abbey wall and stood gazing, astounded. Where she remembered a green meadow, surrounding the beautiful old gate-house, there now lay a sea of flowers. By the gate-house itself stood tall white lilies and bushes of red and yellow roses; the gravel drive leading to the Abbey had borders of pansies and bushes of sweet-briar; against the grey walls were banks of blue and mauve delphiniums and rose and lemon lupins; a path winding among the flower-beds was edged with lobelia and marigolds, with bushes of lavender among them.

“It’s wonderful! But how have they done it?” the fair girl marvelled.

“You’re sure you like it?” Almost at her feet, on the other side of the low wall, a girl rose from her knees behind a big clump of yellow loosestrife. She had been weeding and her trug was full of grass and willow-herb.

“Oh! I didn’t see you,” cried the visitor, and eyed her in delight, for the gardener wore corduroy shorts and a green shirt, and her hair was covered with a green scarf.

“No, but I heard you,” she retorted. “You’ve evidently been here before.”

“Yes—oh yes! I stayed at the Hall for some months four years ago, and I slept in the Abbey for a few nights, in the little room that opens off the cloisters. I’m Benedicta Bennett.”

“Bene—? That’s an odd name!”

“Some people call me Ben, or Benneyben. I like Benedicta best. I’m not particularly blessed, at the moment, and I’m afraid I’m not really much of a blessing, but it is my name. There was no garden here four years ago.”

“There was no garden here one year ago. It was only started last spring.”

“Oh! Somebody’s worked jolly hard!”

“Me. I mean, I did it, with a little help and a lot of gifts of plants. Everybody gave me things.”

“Do you work here all the time?” Benedicta asked, wide-eyed.

“It’s a full-time job. The grass of the old meadow keeps coming through.” She held up her trug. “You see?”

“It will, of course. It will take a long while to get rid of it. What a lovely job! Caring for the Abbey garden! You don’t want an assistant, do you?”

“This is very sudden!” the gardener said solemnly. “Are you proposing to join me on the spot?”

“There’s nothing I’d like better. Nobody wants me very much and I adore the Abbey. I’d love to do something for it.”

“Why does nobody want you? Are you so bad to live with?”

“No, not that,” Benedicta said ruefully. “But there isn’t anybody left. My mother and father have died, and my only brother is married. I live with them and I love Gail, my sister-in-law; but she’s busy with the baby and I’m not needed.”

“Did you come to have another look at the Abbey? Oh, by the way, I’m Damaris Ellerton.”

“What a pretty name!” Benedicta felt something strange in the garden girl’s tone as she said her name and wondered what it meant. “Yes, I’ve been staying with my godparents, and I’m spending a few days with cousins before going home to Gail and Jimmy. So I came to have a look at the dear Abbey. But I never expected to see a lovely garden!”

“I bet you didn’t. You really do like it? I’m always a little afraid that people who used to know it will miss the meadow. It’s all right for strangers; they always like it.”

“Oh, I like it,” Benedicta said earnestly. “It’s a beautiful garden and a fascinating way to go to the Abbey, through banks of flowers. I’d like to see every corner of it, but I mustn’t take up your time. I’ll go on to the Abbey.”

“Ray will take you round; Rachel, my sister. There are no tourists in there now.”

“But where’s Mrs. Watson? She was so kind, when I slept there. Has she gone away?”

“No—I mean, yes. She died last winter.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I suppose she was getting rather old?”

“She was,” Damaris assented. “She was our aunt, so we took on the job. Rachel looks after the tourists and I do the garden.”

“And you live in the Abbey and work for it all the time? Lucky you! Who thought of the garden first?”

“I did. Moi qui vous parle. It was my idea.”

“I’m jolly glad you did. You’ve made a lovely place of it. And all in a year!”

“Less—six months. We came here in February. I was ill; I’d had an accident. We came as soon as I was well enough.”

“You look all right now.” Benedicta eyed her curiously.

“Oh, I’m very fit! I wasn’t needed for the tourists and I had no job. I thought of the garden, and Mrs. Raymond gave me leave to try. She likes it. Are you going to see them at the Hall?”

“Not today,” Benedicta said firmly. “I asked in the village who was at the Hall now, and they told me Lady Quellyn had just come home, this afternoon. I can’t possibly butt in when she’s only been here for an hour. Tomorrow morning I shall come to see her. I love Lady Joy and the twins! The woman in the village said there were a lot of new tiny children as well.”

“Quellyn infants, three of them; David and Richard and a very new baby girl. I haven’t seen them yet, but Lady Joy and the twins hurled themselves out of the car when they saw the garden and came rushing to look, with shrieks of joy,” Damaris said solemnly.

“Didn’t they know?”

“No, I begged that it should be a secret. They’ve been in New York for nearly two years. They knew we were living in the Abbey, but they weren’t told about the garden. I wanted to hear what they said.”

“And they liked it? I’m sure they did. Lady Joy likes anything beautiful.”

“Yes, they liked it. If you’re coming here tomorrow, where do you mean to sleep? Under a bush?”

“At the Music-School. I asked Miss Betty if she’d have me for one night, and she was very kind and said she had room for me. She remembered me quite well.”

“She would, if you stayed at the Hall for some months. Why did you? Four years ago? That would be when we were in Italy.”

“I’ve just come from Rome; my godfather lives there.”

“I was studying in Milan,” Damaris said briefly. “Why did you stay at the Hall for so long?”

“I had an accident in the Abbey. Lady Joy said I must stay till I was better. My mother was ill, so they kept me at the Hall.”

“An accident in the Abbey?” Damaris raised her brows. “How did you manage that? It seems a fairly harmless place! Unless you fell out of a dormitory window, I don’t see what you could do that was at all dangerous.”

Benedicta reddened. “That’s exactly what happened. I fell through the door of the night-stair, at the end of the monks’ dormitory.”

Damaris stared at her. “What on earth did you do that for? Are you unsteady on your feet?”

“No. It wasn’t my fault. Are the twins all right? They’ll have grown a lot.”

“Elizabeth and Margaret? Other people in the family have twins too. Oh, they’re big girls now. Twelve, aren’t they?”

“They must be; they were eight when I saw them last. It will seem odd! I suppose they’re tall and leggy?” Her eyes were roving over the garden. “I like your rock plants! What lovely red stone you’ve found for the rockery in the corner!”

“I call that one Wirral; it’s made of Wirral stone. Oh, don’t you know the Wirral? It’s in Cheshire; that funny bit that sticks out, with the Mersey on one side and the Dee on the other. A friend told me about it and said the red stone would make a lovely rockery, so I sent for some. The other rockery, with the pink sedum all over it, is called Windermere, because the grey stone came from there. Our home’s really among the Lakes.”

“Wirral and Windermere! What fun!” Benedicta laughed. “I’d like to scramble over those red rocks. But I’ll go to see the dear Abbey first.”

“I’ll come along,” Damaris said. “I’ll introduce you to Rachel. She’s the Abbey Guide; I’m the Abbey Gardener.”

“I envy you both very much,” Benedicta said wistfully, as they went down the drive to the entrance.